(KYOOR-ing; to bring about recovery, or the process of hardening or strengthening things like clay). This name started as my healer paladin’s gamertag in World of Warcraft, as I always loved healing and helping my friends as we fought monsters together. Later, I began using the name beyond gaming and used it professionally as well, as I got my company shirt that says “Riot Curing” during my time working on League of Legends.

Now this word feels like a way of living for me as an artist. I am an introvert who moved schools ten times across three countries, and I was not good at making friends. Being a lonely and shy girl, nothing was more nurturing than to let my imagination guide the pencil across the paper. And now that I have become a professional, I can finally share my art across the world and connect with others, offering emotional resonance and delight.


My perspective comes from growing up between Sweden, South Korea, and the United States. Being exposed to such different cultures meant constantly seeing different ideas about beauty, society, nature, and humanity. A lot of my identity formed somewhere in between those viewpoints, and those tensions still shape the aesthetics and philosophy of my work.
I’m also drawn to fantastical narratives—they’re a language that lets me explore human emotions in strange or unexpected ways.


In recent years—especially with the rise of AI—I’ve been more inclined to non-pixel, process-driven work. Things that hold irregularities, resistance from the material, and human traces. Objects that are imperfect and singular. Digital tools are still part of my practice, but more intentionally now, often as part of a hybrid workflow. During my study at RISD, I ventured out of my focus, which was illustration, to learn other art disciplines like hand-building ceramics. Having also taken auditing psychology classes from the nearby Brown University.


Across prints, functional sculptures, and digital pieces, my work explores delight, sadness, and loneliness—not as problems to solve, but as shared human experiences.
I try to make things people can live with and return to over time. Objects that invite a pause, a little intimacy, and maybe quiet but delightful companionship.