Skin, Stone, Dust is an autoethnographic journey that weaves together three strands of geopolitical research on Artificial Marble. By intersecting geographies and histories of a factory in South Korea, a temple in Greece, and farmlands in Cambodia, it traces the archetype, the replica, and movement of marble in the context of global capitalism.
11.02.2021
Dear A,
I am now sitting in my father's factory. Last week, I decided to be here from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day.
I have no story yet; however, I believe that waking up at the same time and spending a fixed number of hours in one space will help me get through this period.
Today, I filmed the workers, the office kitchen, small plant pots, a worn-out door, sloppy wallpaper, and raindrops.
When I talk about the modern/colonial/capitalist world-system, I imagine certain faces.
I was expecting to encounter these faces in the factory. However, this 30-year-old factory, nestled between a mountain and a river, is as quiet as my father.
Sincerely,
Kihyun
28.02.2025
Water flows in front of the factory.
It is the Gyeongan Stream, meaning “joyful and peaceful.” This old waterway has been recorded as "Socheon" since the 1700s. On winter mornings, the cold water meets the dazzling sun, and mist rises. At lunchtime, my brother and I walk along the stream, watching the ducks and cranes. The small ducklings are practicing their flaps.
Midway through our walk, the massive body of a bridge comes into view, spanning the Gyeongan Stream. It is part of the expressway connecting Pocheon and Sejong. The snow beneath the bridge never melts. Though unnamed, the pillars supporting it are (of course) far larger than those of the Acropolis.Since 2021, I have been documenting my father’s artificial marble factory. What began as a collection shaped by words like “global capitalism,” “labor migration,” and “climate change” gradually turned into something resembling a diary. Each day at lunchtime, as my brother and I walked along the river, the construction of that bridge naturally found its way into my camera.
“That overpass on our walking path is connected to it—it collapsed.” A few days ago, my brother told me that the bridge that had fallen in Cheonan was part of the same expressway I see every day. Another friend mentioned that two of the casualties were Chinese workers.The closer you look at a structure—whatever its name may be—the more you see its intricate, elusive expressions. Reading the headlines, I think of the Gyeongan Stream, the sunlight spilling onto my cheeks, and the amplified rush of water beneath the bridge. It is not a strange thing.
For over 30 years, my father has run a factory in South Korea that manufactures and distributes artificial marble—a building material designed to replicate the natural patterns of real stone. The first version, Solid Surface, was invented by DuPont in 1967. Today, the South Korean market offers around 450 colors and patterns, including Delphi, named after the ancient Greek city of the 8th century B.C.
Founded in 1990, the factory emerged alongside South Korea’s first wave of migrant workers. Today, seven Cambodian workers, averaging 25 years old and employed for 5 to 10 years, sustain its operations. Many eventually return home to establish farmland using their savings. The factory has been my family’s sole source of income, financing my overseas education. After spending a decade in Germany, I returned home with a new perspective—one that revealed the factory’s entanglement in a larger narrative of migration, labor, and economic flows.
28.10.2024
I went to Delphi for my first research trip for the project <Stone, Skin, Dust>, which I’ve been working on since 2020. Actually, coming to Athens wasn’t strictly necessary for the project itself; it was more about reigniting my desire to work.
On the last weekend of my month-long journey, I missed the first bus to Delphi and barely managed to catch the last one. I lay under the scorching sun and drank from a spring. Delphi was once the center of the universe. They say drinking this water makes you incapable of being completely unhappy until the day you die.
My shoulders ached as I pondered the questions for the Oracle. I wandered around the ruins of the temple but ended up not asking anything at all. In the stillness atop the mountain, everything felt like a fleeting speck of dust in the universe.
