When I was a child, I used to go to the skating rink—a frozen-over rice paddy— every day. The moment I stood on the ice, feeling the early winter morning wind on the tip of my nose, my heart would pound, excited to draw the first line on the uneven but clean surface. Kish-kish. The sound of my blades merrily biting the ice, the warm sunlight pouring on the cold surface, the wind that seemed to get stronger as I sped along, the sweat running down my back, the traces of my movement carved into the ice—these memories became the starting point of Line.
Carving lines into the ice, drawing, making mistakes, becoming frustrated, erasing, drawing again—the process of piling all these experiences together is similar to that of creation. In Line, two seemingly unrelated worlds roll simultaneously together. The two stories run parallel, as if they do not know about the other’s presence until they meet—and part—at one specific moment. The picture book is the ideal medium through which to embrace mutually different worlds at the same time. With no written text, Line offers much to talk about.
✦ ←Index