As if emerging from the depths of serene dark- ness itself, the face of Maya, the illusion, both overwhelms and surrenders to perception. Beyond what is so indisputably tangible, is where the mirage lies- speaking through its reality into an ethereal consciousness that forms a paradox, culminating into a weightless existence. The art of park seung Mo is not installation, it is not sculpture, it is not portraiture; it is an exposition on consciousness, a critique of reality and most of all, a discourse on the meaning of the self itself- churning existence into a haze of wired ambiguity. here is where skill meets the elusive crossroad of conceptual- where does meaning begin and aesthetic end? Where does the reading start and the understanding close?
