Rather than simply marking a new beginning, the reopening exhibition stems from a reflection on the very notion of beginning again. It captures a moment not of a defined starting line, but of a dim and drifting sensation in the twilight before full light. To begin anew is not merely an act of moving forward with boldness—it is an attitude of accepting one’s own pace, cautiously navigating the hazy inner space, and treating uncertainty itself as a point of departure.

In this sense, “Morning Haze” refers quite literally to the fog of morning. Between night and day, between dawn and morning—this in-between moment fills the world with its quietest and most obscure sensations. In a light that is not yet clear, air that slowly seeps in from afar, and a resolve that has yet to fully form, we sometimes choose not to seek direction but to wait for it to naturally reveal itself. 

Fog does not conceal everything; rather, it drifts like a slow curtain, preparing the scene beyond. The moment it lifts, the exhibition begins.