On the Day of the Workshop
We arrived early in the morning at the venue for the international exchange workshop, the “Tokyo International Forum.”
It looked like an endless expanse of glass walls reinforced with white steel frames, resembling a massive glass greenhouse.
Amid the vast buildings that were hard to take in with one glance, crowds of people bustled about.
Thanks to the event pamphlets and signboards set up for the international exchange workshop, people were moving in an orderly fashion toward various destinations.
We stood at the entrance of the building, not yet merging into the flow of the crowd.
“As expected, since this is a university-hosted event, there are a lot of students here. I think the only middle schoolers around are Mija and me.”
I absentmindedly looked at my companions. Even on the third day of our trip, Mija and Palgon still seemed fascinated, glancing around curiously.
“Uncle Palgon! Take a picture of me here so the building comes out nicely!”
“Alright! Haha! One, two…”
“Wait, wait! Let me fix my hair first…”
“You already look pretty enough.”
“Hehe, stop it! Alright, I’m ready! Take it now!”
“One, two, three, kimchi!”
“Kimchi!”
Click!
Palgon, who was now carrying Mija’s digital camera everywhere, had initially found her intimidating because she looked like a complete foreigner. However, he quickly warmed up to her and became friendly.
‘Why does it feel so weird to see someone with that face saying “kimchi”? Anyway, it feels like the only calm people in our group are Geonwoo and me.’
I glanced at Yoo Geonwoo.
“…”
‘He’s just a college student, but he’s so reliable and serious.’
Yoo Geonwoo, our group’s guide, was silently focused on his PDA phone. He skillfully navigated Tokyo’s insanely intricate and inconvenient subway system as if it were child’s play.
All we had to do was follow his instructions.
“Yes, yes,” we’d say, simply keeping up with him.
– “If we transfer here, it’ll be faster.”
– “Yes.”
– “Turn right here, and take out your transit cards.”
– “Yes.”
– Beep
– “Go Hana, aren’t you hungry?”
– “…Yes.”
– “Let’s grab breakfast here first. The bread here is good.”
– “Yes.”
It was like a high-speed sprint.
Thanks to him, we arrived earlier than scheduled.
‘If it had just been me, Mija, and Uncle Palgon, we’d have been 100% late. Why does their subway system require transferring and transferring again just to move one station?’
As I grumbled internally, Yoo Geonwoo turned around with a satisfied smile. His eyes met mine.
“!”
“…We’ve arrived much earlier than I expected. There’s still about an hour until the orientation starts. Shall we take our time exploring in the meantime?”
“Yes, looking at those two, I think we’ll have to.”
Yoo Geonwoo glanced toward Palgon and Mija, smiling wryly.
– “Uncle, spin me around in a circle!”
– “Alright! Hahaha!”
Somehow, Mija had climbed onto Palgon’s shoulders and was taking selfies. Palgon clapped enthusiastically, cheering her on like a doting father might.
Yoo Geonwoo sighed as he watched her.
“Our Mijang is having the time of her life. She’s so used to being spoiled by her grandmother… It’s like she’s completely forgotten she came here to study with her friends.”
“Having fun is what trips are for. She’s still a middle schooler, after all.”
“…When Go Hana says it like that, it feels oddly profound.”
“Is that so?”
“Go Hana, you were originally in elemen….Oh, wait, sorry. That might’ve been rude to mention. My apologies.”
Realizing his misstep, Yoo Geonwoo bowed his head slightly.
“Heh, don’t worry about it.”
“Anyway, let’s take a look around too.”
“Sure, Geonwoo o…”
“Hmm?”
“…I hope today ends up being a fun day.”
“Agreed.”
We wandered around the Tokyo International Forum for a while, checking out architectural models and the event venue itself. Mija excitedly reacted to every little thing she saw, making a big fuss over them.
After about an hour of sightseeing, it was time for the orientation to begin. Yoo Geonwoo and Kim Palgon decided to wait at a nearby café.
– “If you need anything, feel free to contact us anytime.”
– “Oppa, buy me some figures from Akihabara later.”
– “……”
Yoo Geonwoo didn’t respond.
Mija and I entered the designated hall. The interior was bright and pristine, illuminated by large lights hanging from the ceiling.
Each table was decorated with a small vase of flowers, and participants were busily preparing with their laptops and notes.
At the entrance, we presented our participant IDs, and the Japanese staff gave us name tags.
“Please wear these during the workshop sessions.”
Mija whispered the translation into my ear.
“Ah, understood. Do we need to wear them during the orientation as well?”
Mija translated my question, and the staff responded.
“It’s not necessary during the orientation.”
“Got it. Thank you.”
I accepted the tag.
『Go Hana』
“…..”
Looking at the name tag, I suddenly thought of Mari.
Almost two years had passed since those memories.
“My cardigan and name tag… I wonder if she still has them?”
Feeling a subtle longing, I put the name tag into my pocket. Then, Mija and I searched for our assigned seats. Thanks to the numerous name placards placed on the tables, it wasn’t hard to find.
“I think it’s here?”
“Ugh… There are so many foreigners at this table. Do we really have to sit here?”
“What are you talking about, Mijang? We’re the foreigners here.”
“…Fine.”
The table had neatly arranged paper name tags, each listing the student’s nationality and school name. Ours read “South Korea – Hanul Comprehensive Arts School.”
Next to us sat students from Japan, China, and Thailand. Judging by their uniforms and awkward postures, they also seemed to be from arts-focused middle or high schools.
“So we’re grouped together? Looks like we’re the youngest here. I guess we’ll be treated like kids for the next few days.”
Before sitting down, I nodded politely to the Thai boy sitting next to me—likely a high schooler. He noticed and, already smiling broadly, grinned even wider as he extended his hand.
“?”
I shook his hand lightly, unsure of what to expect. He spoke to me in English.
“Nice to meet you. You can call me Chai.”
“Ah, nice to meet you.”
“You’re from… Oh, Korea! I can see it on your name tag. Sorry about that! I was just so nervous I couldn’t sit still. Please excuse me if I say anything weird.”
“…I see.”
Chai, seemingly relieved that I responded, adjusted his tie and launched into a chatty monologue.
“I was about to go crazy sitting here alone. That guy over there from China? The one with glasses?
He’s just sitting there, arms crossed, looking all serious. And those two girls from Japan? Sitting prim and proper, barely saying a word… I mean, come on! We’re stuck together for two weeks, so why not break the ice? Don’t you think?”
“Uh, yeah… I guess so.”
“Wow, you’re really kind! Let’s see… Hanul? Oh! That’s a super famous arts school in Korea, right? Man, we’ve got a real elite here. Honestly, I thought you were an elementary schooler, but you’re a middle schooler. Nice to meet you!”
“Nice to meet you too.”
While responding, I was taken aback. Chai’s over-the-top sociability was one thing, but his unusual yet clear English accent was surprisingly easy to understand.
“Maybe it’s because of the intense English training I had last year? I can actually understand all of this.”
But not everyone shared my fortune.
Sitting next to me, Mija had her lips firmly sealed, her blue eyes darting nervously.
“….”
A bespectacled girl sitting beside Mija (likely from Japan) was softly speaking to her in ‘English.’
“Nice to meet you. I’m Goto Mirei from Kyoto. Are you studying abroad in Korea by any chance?”
“….”
“If you don’t mind, may I ask what art genre you’re specializing in?”
“….”
Mija opened her mouth as if to say something but couldn’t get the words out.
Her nervousness, though it was more about the English issue seemed endearing, almost like a younger sibling.
Perhaps because of this, Goto spoke to her even more enthusiastically.
Chai, observing the scene, muttered in a grumbling tone.
“When I asked him questions, Goto barely gave me short answers, but now he’s being overly friendly. Is this what discrimination feels like?”
“….”
Goto glanced briefly at Chai before responding.
“The chairman was so loud that I couldn’t hear properly.”
“Oh, really? That’s what it was? I thought you just found me annoying or something.”
At that, the short-haired Japanese girl, who had been sitting blankly, casually chimed in.
“Don’t take what someone from Kyoto says at face value. Just assume it means, ‘You’re so clingy and noisy, asking my hobbies and age out of nowhere, that I didn’t want to answer.'”
“…”
“…”
Goto added awkwardly, “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I just didn’t feel like talking.”
“…”
“…”
The atmosphere at the table turned strangely heavy.
From afar, a Chinese male student sitting alone shook his head and pushed his glasses up with a sharp motion.
For the record, the entire conversation up to this point had been in English. Mija’s eyes were still trembling.
I gave a wry smile.
‘If I just started speaking in Japanese, those two would probably respond right away…’
As I debated whether to offer this advice, the room’s lights dimmed, and an announcement played. The fact that it repeated in multiple languages was impressive.
– “To all participants of the Tokyo University of the Arts International Exchange Workshop: the orientation will begin shortly. Please take your seats at your tables.”
Soon, the once-boisterous hall fell silent, and a representative of the organizing team stepped onto the stage.
Through a brief opening speech in English, he explained the workshop’s purpose and schedule.
“This workshop is not just about creative activities but serves as a platform for artistic talents from various countries to come together and interact. We hope this will be an opportunity to share your diverse perspectives on art and culture.”
The subsequent presentation detailed the schedule for the two-week exchange workshop.
‘So, the group you move with is made up of your tablemates…’
The first week involved attending special lectures at various halls within Tokyo University of the Arts, while the second week featured visits to cultural sites, museums, and art galleries.
At the conclusion of the workshop, select invited artists and students would hold a special exhibition at a museum near Ueno Park. I was among those included in this event.
Looking at the schedule, I was impressed.
‘This is really well-organized! I thought it’d just be something casual, like a field trip to kill time.’
What caught my eye most were the names of the professors and artists leading the lectures. They ranged from traditional Japanese art masters to renowned contemporary artists and scholars.
‘Honestly, this seems like the kind of thing you’d normally have to pay for…’
As my anticipation grew, the orientation continued smoothly. The host wrapped up with closing remarks.
“That concludes today’s agenda. Thank you to all participants for attending the orientation.”
Clap Clap Clap!
The lights in the hall brightened again, and people began to stand and leave their seats.
I also prepared to leave with Mija.
…until I was abruptly stopped in the hallway and asked to give a special lecture.
*
The middle-aged man with gray hair, Takashima, spoke in Korean.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be giving a lecture on the topic of ‘The Fusion of Media and Asian Culture.’ During the class, could you perhaps share your thoughts on visual arts in a brief presentation?”
His request left me momentarily speechless.
“Me? But I’m still just a student… I’m only here as a participant in this workshop.”
Takashima smiled and nodded understandingly.
“Yes, I understand. However, as far as I know… Miss Go Hana, you already have a clear perspective as an artist in your own right. That conviction shines through in works like Sanctuary of Saint Chris and your earlier paintings.
Sharing your views during the special lecture would, I believe, provide great inspiration to the other ‘participants.'”
“But…”
“You don’t need to feel too pressured. Just a simple speech or sharing your thoughts would be more than enough.”
“…”
He continued in a gentle tone.
“Simply expressing your perspective honestly is all that’s needed.”
‘That so-called conviction of mine is actually adding to the pressure…’
Speaking in front of someone renowned in education like him.
And in front of students who were aspiring artists themselves.
Could I really do this?
“…”
I hesitated for a moment.
But my decision didn’t take long.
‘Well… I have to exhibit my work anyway, so I might as well think of this as an opportunity to preemptively explain myself.’
“…Then, although I may not be fully prepared, I’ll give it a try.”
“Thank you so much for making this big decision.”
Takashima and I exchanged polite bows.
Truthfully, as soon as I resolved to do it, the tension began to dissipate quickly. If it were in front of people like Chai and Goto, I figured I could speak casually without getting too nervous.
‘Besides, the lecture is split into smaller groups, so there probably won’t be that many people attending.’
*
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
The next day.
I swallowed hard.
In front of me were thousands of eyes glittering with curiosity, including those of Tokyo University of the Arts students and veteran artists.
To make things worse, countless microphones were set up before me, as if this were a press conference.
Ah…
This…
I didn’t see this coming.