A Rehearsal for Psycho (1960), 2024

Single-channel black and white video with sound,

wood, plastic, metal, varnish, silicon, and shampoo; 12 min. 44 sec.

Exhibition video documentary: https://youtu.be/BVHu4vkhgkg

I often feel a presence lurking in some shadowy corner, gazing at me. My glances toward that corner are filled with a blend of fear and anticipation. The invisibility of this presence leaves me feeling like a balloon, powerless, endlessly rolling on the ground, dizzy and disoriented. As I repeatedly look back, it feels like an energy is about to be released, yet swiftly restrained. This sensation becomes particularly intense while showering. I frequently open my eyes to confirm whether that person has pushed open the door to stand outside the curtain—perhaps just a silhouette, or maybe pressing their face against the curtain, engulfing me in fear and palpitations. Perhaps it is the moment of being naked, yet enveloped in warmth not my own, that brings this pending energy to its peak. I am always ready, waiting for their arrival. That day, just as the shampoo was about to be squeezed out, I saw them and felt the living warmth of their eyes slowly focusing on me. I screamed and threw the shampoo towards the shower curtain, fleeing in panic. The creamy substance spread everywhere, mixing with the water, forming a repulsive sight.