To correctly experience this piece, two people are required. Both persons may begin by looking at the piece from the outside, but only one person may go in at a time. When a person is ready to go inside the piece, he or she is to stand in front of the sliding door (the back of the project). The second person is to stand to the right of that person and slide the wooden board out to allow the first person in.

Once the first person is completely inside box, the sliding door is to be closed so that the first person cannot get out that way. There are labels inside to tell the person what to do, but once inside the box, there is no one to tell the person to do or not to do something, so he or she may do as he or she pleases.

While the first person is inside the box, the second person is to quickly and quietly move the first person's shoes to the front where the two swinging doors are.


(responses)
Most people were delighted to enter a space and be surrounded by windows of this pattern that isn't common in the western cultures. Many people tried a candy (which was peanut caramel), some flipped through the books, while others tried to play the mysterious pipe-like instrument. One person opened the doors to show other people something she liked in one of the books.

(my own explanation)
During my late elementary and early middle school years, my mom and my aunt put their funds together to buy a house in the country-side of Korea. The house was very old. 'm pretty sure the house was at least 90 years old, but I can't remember exactly how old it was, but it was so old that the date it was erected was carved into one of the supporting beams in the ceiling in Chinese numbers in a very traditional way. But since it was such an old fashioned house, it also had old style architecture, such as a sub-ground oven that heated the stones under the floors as it vented, and sliding doors coated with paper for privacy and insulation (however ineffective it is, anyway). It also came with some farming land where one summer, my mom and I had planted and harvested two or three big black garbage bags worth of sweet potatoes because the dirt was incredibly fertile. When I enter this piece, I expect to see the concrete outdoor flooring, and the field to the left of it, but instead, I realize that I'm still in the states.


Update: This project was dismantled and the floor, ceiling, and corner beams have been discarded. I kept the windows though. I felt like I was ending the journey as I was pulling the screws and nails out. I'll miss being able to sit in it, but I'll always remember it, in a strange, romatic, dreamy, twisted way.