In the tropical paradise of Jeju Island, where vibrant tangerines flourish amidst lush greenery and volcanic hills, lies a dream of escape for many weary city-dwellers of Korea. While a permanent holiday surrounded by oranges and bathed in sunshine remains just a dream for most, for acclaimed artist/illustrator Minjung Kang (ANKA), it’s a lived reality. Having used her art to escape the hustle-and-bustle of city life, in “Tangerine Daydreams,” ANKA uses the island’s citrus as a symbol to reflect on the sweetness of youthful dreams. Now a parent herself, her work is full of quaint colors and vintage hues that reads like postcards from the present to the past, capturing the nostalgia and innocence of escapism- whether to an island paradise or back to childhood memories.

When it's warm, they hide in the green light like leaves; but when it’s cold, they chitter excitedly as their cheeks blush orange.

Many Jeju tangerines swagger along in the summer, pretending to be expensive. Come winter, they are just one of many popped into someone’s mouth, disappearing.

“Mom, I want to get a cat! I want to get a dog!”

As an adult, I tell my children it’s not a good idea to raise something alive unless you can take responsibility until the end.

“Mom, I want to make a snowman. When will it snow?”

It’s warmer here on Jeju Island than the rest of Korea. As an adult, I know this, but I fear I’m becoming increasingly out of reach as an adult. What does it mean to get in touch with your younger self? Did I ever like cats? Or did I just like just touching something warm, furry, and alive?

With these thoughts in my mind, I turn to my children and ask: “Should we make it out of clay instead?”

What I’m working on today is more of the same. That is to say, I am trying to convince myself that what I’ve just now created far surpasses any of my previous works. It involves layers and layers of concealment, new over old, a continuous effort to overshadow and outshine my past accomplishments. Or perhaps I’m just procrastinating.

In the tropical paradise of Jeju Island, where vibrant tangerines flourish amidst lush greenery and volcanic hills, lies a dream of escape for many weary city-dwellers of Korea. While a permanent holiday surrounded by oranges and bathed in sunshine remains just a dream for most, for acclaimed artist/illustrator Minjung Kang (ANKA), it’s a lived reality. Having used her art to escape the hustle-and-bustle of city life, in “Tangerine Daydreams,” ANKA uses the island’s citrus as a symbol to reflect on the sweetness of youthful dreams. Now a parent herself, her work is full of quaint colors and vintage hues that reads like postcards from the present to the past, capturing the nostalgia and innocence of escapism- whether to an island paradise or back to childhood memories.

When it's warm, they hide in the green light like leaves; but when it’s cold, they chitter excitedly as their cheeks blush orange.

Many Jeju tangerines swagger along in the summer, pretending to be expensive. Come winter, they are just one of many popped into someone’s mouth, disappearing.

“Mom, I want to get a cat! I want to get a dog!”

As an adult, I tell my children it’s not a good idea to raise something alive unless you can take responsibility until the end.

“Mom, I want to make a snowman. When will it snow?”

It’s warmer here on Jeju Island than the rest of Korea. As an adult, I know this, but I fear I’m becoming increasingly out of reach as an adult. What does it mean to get in touch with your younger self? Did I ever like cats? Or did I just like just touching something warm, furry, and alive?

With these thoughts in my mind, I turn to my children and ask: “Should we make it out of clay instead?”

What I’m working on today is more of the same. That is to say, I am trying to convince myself that what I’ve just now created far surpasses any of my previous works. It involves layers and layers of concealment, new over old, a continuous effort to overshadow and outshine my past accomplishments. Or perhaps I’m just procrastinating.

In the tropical paradise of Jeju Island, where vibrant tangerines flourish amidst lush greenery and volcanic hills, lies a dream of escape for many weary city-dwellers of Korea. While a permanent holiday surrounded by oranges and bathed in sunshine remains just a dream for most, for acclaimed artist/illustrator Minjung Kang (ANKA), it’s a lived reality. Having used her art to escape the hustle-and-bustle of city life, in “Tangerine Daydreams,” ANKA uses the island’s citrus as a symbol to reflect on the sweetness of youthful dreams. Now a parent herself, her work is full of quaint colors and vintage hues that reads like postcards from the present to the past, capturing the nostalgia and innocence of escapism- whether to an island paradise or back to childhood memories.

When it's warm, they hide in the green light like leaves; but when it’s cold, they chitter excitedly as their cheeks blush orange.

Many Jeju tangerines swagger along in the summer, pretending to be expensive. Come winter, they are just one of many popped into someone’s mouth, disappearing.

“Mom, I want to get a cat! I want to get a dog!”

As an adult, I tell my children it’s not a good idea to raise something alive unless you can take responsibility until the end.

“Mom, I want to make a snowman. When will it snow?”

It’s warmer here on Jeju Island than the rest of Korea. As an adult, I know this, but I fear I’m becoming increasingly out of reach as an adult. What does it mean to get in touch with your younger self? Did I ever like cats? Or did I just like just touching something warm, furry, and alive?

With these thoughts in my mind, I turn to my children and ask: “Should we make it out of clay instead?”

What I’m working on today is more of the same. That is to say, I am trying to convince myself that what I’ve just now created far surpasses any of my previous works. It involves layers and layers of concealment, new over old, a continuous effort to overshadow and outshine my past accomplishments. Or perhaps I’m just procrastinating.