ung Bocsu is an artist who gives form to the most primal human emotions—pain, desire, loss, and compassion—through the figure of the human body.

His subjects appear as contorted, dissected, and anguished beings. These are not simple portrayals of people, but visual embodiments of emotion, memory, and the wounds of their time. The figures cry out without sound, their broken anatomies echoing stories that words cannot contain.

The work Dreams of Flesh — a title that juxtaposes “dream” and “flesh”—depicts a landscape where the unconscious collides with lived experience. Coarse, repetitive brushstrokes, smeared ink, and unbalanced limbs give shape to an unresolved tension between the internal and the external, the personal and the political.

For Jung, ink is not a contemplative medium. It is a dark fluid that stains with pain. The brush is not a meditative tool, but a blade that cuts through silence and exposes wounds.

In line with the Biennale’s theme Neighbors of Civilization, this work confronts those who have been silenced and excluded—offering not slogans, but bodies in rupture, bearing the truth of what has been denied or forgotten.

Standing before this work, you do not merely “see” it.
You feel it.
You hurt with it.

It is not an image to interpret, but a presence to witness—
an act of solidarity,
and a call to remember through flesh.