A fold does not remove what came before it. It changes its direction.

Opened again, the surface may appear flat, but the crease remains: a line produced by pressure, time, and contact. Memory behaves in much the same way. What has passed does not return intact. It comes back compressed, displaced, prolonged, or attached to another image.

*Interstices of Memory* 《記憶的摺痕》, presented by L GALLERY and Da Xin Art Museum in Tainan, brings together KwanYoung Kim, Kim YoungJun, Inae, and Suzy Q. Across painting, animation, illustration, and video, their works begin at different points but meet in what memory leaves after it has already changed.

For KwanYoung Kim, what remains is dispersed across the surface. Points, lines, planes, and color drift in and out of relation, as though fragments had surfaced without bringing the event that produced them. His ongoing *The Memory of the Unconscious* does not reconstruct a past image; it gives form to the unstable threshold at which something is sensed before it can be clearly recognized.

Kim YoungJun approaches the same instability through duration. A movement repeats. A landscape shifts almost imperceptibly. An object seems still until time reveals that it is not. By stretching moments that would ordinarily disappear, his drawings and animations turn duration itself into a kind of residue. What is remembered may be less a scene than the strange length of time it occupied.

Elsewhere, recollection acquires weight. Inae repeatedly deposits paint through her process of layering, allowing previous gestures to remain beneath subsequent ones. Thickness changes the surface; light catches differently; what is covered continues to affect what is visible. Gold appears throughout her work with an equally unstable character—at once luminous and material, abundant and excessive. Here, memory survives not through accuracy but through accumulation.

Suzy Q gives forgotten things somewhere else to go. In “LIMBO,” MOO, the rubber duck, and other recurring figures inhabit a world in which disappearance is never quite complete. Detached from their former contexts, they persist as altered characters and symbols. Forgetting becomes not an ending, but a change of habitat.

Fragment. Duration. Layer. Afterlife.

These are not four definitions of memory so much as four ways of disturbing its chronology. One scatters what should have remained whole; another extends what should have passed; another buries earlier states beneath new surfaces; another lets what was lost return under a different name.

Perhaps this is where the “interstice” lies—not between remembering and forgetting as two opposite conditions, but inside the act of remembering itself. Every recollection contains a small displacement: something omitted, something prolonged, something added later.

A crease is evidence that a surface has been elsewhere.

Even after it is unfolded.