My Story 

I’ve also received a notice of a damage claim once in my life. It was terrifying. The letter said, “The damage you caused the company is worth tens of millions of won—actually, much more than that—but since I once cared about you, I’ll consider that and only claim this much.” Even so, the amount was suffocatingly high. It was the price I had to pay for unilaterally canceling a scheduled performance. 

I had little to say. The listed damages were, from a social standpoint, mostly reasonable. All I had were my “personal feelings,” “personal reflections on why those feelings arose,” and “personal analyses of how I see music and people.” I had no logical weapons to defend myself with. Whatever I said, once written down, looked like the immature rambling of someone who hadn’t grown up yet. 

To me, everything about myself feels justified. But when that self is exposed to society, what’s right and wrong becomes clearly divided. The version of me that exists in society is no longer a complete individual. Thus, inevitably, humans must live with a degree of duality. 

• The raw state of simply being what I feel, right or wrong
  
• The refined state of a social being who must assert what’s right in a socially and legally acceptable way 
  

I learned this rather late in life, by accident, through a certain event. 

The Story of Min Hee-jin 

Every human being lives with some kind of vision, big or small. Here, vision means “a blueprint for a moment in the future that transcends the present.” When I look at Min Hee-jin, I get the impression that she is someone with a grand and vivid vision. 

But a vision is an intensely personal creation—born from an individual’s eyes, imagination, and burning passion. 

Anyone can debate events that have already happened. But things that haven’t happened yet can only be seen through the mind’s eye—through imagination. When multiple people imagine the same thing, their minds resonate, a positive synergy forms, and they cooperate to create a single moment. That kind of miracle is much rarer than we think. Listening to Min Hee-jin’s first press conference, I felt that such miracles didn’t happen often in her collaborations with others. 

“I mean, if we just do it this way, it’s totally possible—what’s the problem?” That kind of frustration—of having one’s creativity stifled by a prejudiced environment—was palpable in her words. Whether or not it aligns with today’s public sentiment, I find myself supporting her artistic creativity. People like her are the reason something truly new appears in the world. 

Gathering people who share your blueprint while pushing away those who constrain you, trying to build an environment where your vision can breathe more freely—perhaps that’s a natural human instinct. But in Min Hee-jin’s case, that process seems to have unfolded quite aggressively. 

The Story of NewJeans

I believe that Min Hee-jin and NewJeans did experience something unjust. Whether or not it resonated emotionally with the public when put into words, it must have existed. They must have witnessed something during their work—something real—and each interpreted it in their own way. Yet, judging from the court’s decision, that unfairness wasn’t recognized as socially valid. 

An artist is, at their core, a person who wants to remain purely individual. But to live that way in everyday life is to invite remarks like, “Haven’t you ever worked in a company?” or “Do you think you’re some god living outside society?” So artists express that individuality through abstract means like music, art, or dance. Yet even those artists are still social beings who must earn a living from others. Art is something humans do, but it also transcends human limitation. 

In wrestling at the exact boundary between individuality and social existence, NewJeans eventually returned to their agency, unable to bear the pressure of paying damages. The reason NewJeans could be NewJeans was partly thanks to the producers who planned the group, but equally because they truly became themselves. The public was captivated by their natural expression—untainted by the urge to appear perfect. I hope this incident doesn’t make them lose that purity. I also hope they don’t become too mature. 

As for me, I just hope I can keep listening to good music that makes my ears dance inside my head.