I’m a nomad because choosing one path means giving up the rest of the world.

I left high school exactly one semester after I started. Classrooms felt like boxes, and my world had no walls. So I wandered into Seoul’s crowded Dongdaemun Market and opened a clothing store. There, I learned to spot trends, understand what people wanted, and tell stories through fabric and thread. Soon, fashion became my obsession. I imagined myself orchestrating entire runway shows, creating every moment that unfolded under bright lights. Central Saint Martins accepted me into their prestigious program, but hesitation took hold. Could true creativity really fit neatly inside one category?

Fine art seemed like my next answer, a place of freedom and limitless possibility. Generous scholarships poured in from prestigious art schools across America. I dreamed of art as something boundless, where I could shape concepts, forms, and even guide the viewer’s journey through my exhibitions. Yet, here too, I faced familiar pressure. Painting or sculpture? Installation or performance? I asked, “Why not all of them?” They replied that choosing was necessary. To me, true art meant letting the idea dictate its own form. Disappointed, I turned away again.

Graphic design offered a fresh start, promising collaboration, speed, and infinite reach. Pixels could travel anywhere, reach anyone. But soon I saw familiar limits approaching, the boundaries quietly creeping closer, another path headed toward confinement.

Then came advertising. It was different from the start, offering a world that built concepts from scratch and then chose the right way to bring them to life. Here was the freedom to blend fashion’s emotional insight, fine art’s conceptual depth, and graphic design’s visual precision. Advertising felt like a home for nomads like me. Every road I’d traveled suddenly connected into one.

Today, as an Art Director, I weave all my past experiences into campaigns that make people feel deeply, remember vividly, and talk passionately. The tattoo covering my left arm and chest, once a proud declaration of youthful defiance, is slowly fading away. But my desire to cross boundaries, reject labels, and remain creatively restless never will.