I TOLD YOU, I LOVE YOU

“I told you, I love you” combines my imagination of the octet rule with the wet plate process to explore the relationship between the visible and the invisible, the fixed and the fluid, the measurable and the felt.

This project begins with my fascination with the atom—the smallest unit that builds our universe. Each atom, in its dance between attraction and repulsion, mirrors the dynamic flux of human relationships. The octet rule—the tendency of atoms to gain, lose, or share electrons in search of stability—becomes a poetic framework through which I reflect on emotional exchange. People, like atoms, move toward and away from one another. Our desires, fears, and needs are like electrons: circling, colliding, shared, withdrawn. There is no final state—only becoming.

In my practice, I channel this fluidity through the wet plate process. By applying electric currents to the silver nitrate-coated plates, I do not just fix an image—I release a field of unpredictable forces. The electricity scars, distorts, or reconfigures the surface, much like emotions leave their marks on the psyche. The current maps my inner states—chaos, calm, resistance—across the material. These images are not representations; they are manifestations of movement. They are time inscribed.

Alchemy, once the bridge between matter and spirit, reminds us that transformation is not only chemical but also existential. As Carl Jung observed, the alchemical process was also a metaphor for psychic individuation—the merging and refining of the self. In the act of making these images, I undergo a similar ritual. I engage not only with materials but with the invisible forces within me. The wet plate becomes both a laboratory and a mirror.

Modern science, for all its precision, still struggles to account for the mystery of why matter behaves as it does. We know how to split the atom, but not fully why it binds. The octet rule, like many scientific laws, is derived from observation—but what it cannot explain is the why behind the yearning for completion. Just as atoms seek harmony, so do we—but not by calculation, rather by movement, intuition, and becoming.

For me, each atom is a microcosm, a vibration, a spiritual unit. So are we. We do not fully know what occurs within the atom, just as we do not fully know what lies at the center of the self. But we respond, we collide, we change. In the space between attraction and resistance, I search for traces of connection, of meaning, of transformation. Through electricity, silver, and time, I try to give form to the invisible—to those fleeting emotional currents that move through us, unmeasurable but deeply felt.

SHARON HO

I TOLD YOU, I LOVE YOU