The word ‘deconstruction’ immediately brings to mind the French philosopher Jacques Derrida and his critique of Western metaphysics. Influenced by his ideas, deconstructivist art challenges notions of unity, centrality, and binary hierarchies. It often reexamines marginalized or unconventional perspectives, favoring flexibility over rigid modes of thought. Over time, this approach has extended beyond the artwork itself, inviting viewers to participate in the creation of meaning.

A recent exhibition in Korea by Damien Hirst gave me a vivid glimpse into this deconstructivist sensibility. Driven by a longstanding preoccupation with death, Hirst confronts viewers with works such as a diamond-encrusted skull, a shark suspended in formaldehyde, and a decaying cow’s head swarming with flies, etc.. Among them was a stunning piece that resembled a beautiful cathedral stained-glass window. Yet a closer look revealed that it was made from thousands of real butterfly wings coated with glossy paint.

Countless lives had been sacrificed; butterflies had been literally deconstructed to create a sublime religious image. In that moment, I felt a collision between beauty and cruelty, life and death, symbol and reality. If Hirst intended these works to place viewers in that uneasy space between fascination and revulsion – and if that response is part of the artwork itself – then he is a remarkably successful deconstructionist.

As I think about the piece I will create for this prompt ‘Deconstruction’, I find myself asking what kind of deconstructionist I want to be. My answer is simple. I will practice a far more literal form of deconstruction. I plan to take apart one of my older works – one I was never fully satisfied with – and transform it into something new. Compared to Derrida or Damien Hirst, my ambitions are modest. I have decided to become a deconstructionist in the most physical sense of the word.