Underground water has long flowed through the earth as a vessel for memories unseen by human eyes. When rain falls, it briefly fills Jeju’s dry riverbeds before vanishing through cracks in the rocks, seeping into subterranean air vents known as sumgol, cascading down the lava walls of caves, and eventually reemerging as coastal springs after being compressed over time within the volcanic strata of the island. This ever-moving water leaves behind traces—silent marks etched in hidden spaces. div> The physical sensation of thirst constantly reminds us that our bodies are composed mostly of water. Yet groundwater, invisible and inaudible, only becomes legible as material value once it is bottled in plastic and consumed. Even now, countless micro-vibrations ripple through the darkness beneath our feet—droplets shattering in silence beyond the range of human hearing. Though often forgotten, these sounds persist. After the pandemic and a period of recovery and rebuilding, we have become more acutely aware of our interdependence with more-than-human beings on this shared planet. While our daily lives are punctuated by forgetting—of distant wars, of the looming climate crisis—we are also reminded by the faint yet enduring testimonies of Jeju’s April 3rd Uprising that even the most muffled tremors carry the potential to become waves. The desire to hear what cannot be heard becomes an act of remembering.

The participating artists of Unmute Water: A Walk in Oscillation—Diana Band (Shin Wonjeong & Lee Dooho), Oro Minkyung, and Grace Kim—conducted six months of field research across Jeju, visiting dry riverbeds, caves, and sumgol. Holding the question, “How can we hear the sound of water beneath the ground?”, they experimented with various bodily senses and listening devices to find ways of connecting with water. The journey of bringing our bodies to water’s domain was also a trembling affirmation of existence. These walks in vibration continue to flow—within the self, within relationships, and within the world—through encounters and frictions with various more-than-human beings. The Sanjicheon stream, where surface water meets resurging groundwater, holds deep symbolic meaning both geopolitically and historically. It is a fitting site for an exhibition exploring such tremors and flows. How far can our listening bodies walk in step with other audible bodies? In the echoing footsteps of Jeju’s women who carried water jars daily up the stream to collect spring water; in the mourning steps beside the sea to mark the tenth anniversary of the Sewol Ferry disaster; in the movements of activists building new homes in Rohingya refugee camps; in the bodies that cross and dissolve borders and walls—this walk continues.