Njuthesophist on threading ambiguity, sexuality, and the self in her second exhibition in London

Njuthesophist on threading ambiguity, sexuality, and the self in her second exhibition in London

It’s a rare sunny day in London during March. The wind is incessant, diverting the heat rays of the Friday afternoon sun in a manner that leaves us both squinting — half from the glare, half from the breeze. In these conflicting elements, Eunjoo slouches into the bench, cigarette in hand, brushing the wind from her hair while scanning the bodies scattered about us, idle and unbothered.

This casual dissonance is central to Eunjoo's practice, better known by her artist moniker: njuthesophist. Her garments, much like her installations, flirt with the boundaries of perception. Born from observation and introspection, her work resists being neatly boxed. She gathers elements of people, time, discarded materials, fleeting moments and forgotten spaces, sewing them together, literally and metaphorically, into webs of interconnected meaning.

The collaboration between MK2UK, 75-RC and njuthesophist feels like an inevitable pairing, a shared ethos of resisting conformity and championing the overlooked. What started in Seoul in a quiet cafe exhibition has now found its way to a small window-front in London, curated with the same spontaneity and care that Eunjoo brings to her practice.

"I’m most sexy when I’m most me."

At the heart of this collaboration is a quiet rebellion against tradition, predictability, and the hyper-categorisation of self. 

Raised by a mother who encouraged modesty, simplicity, and what Eunjoo calls “a desire to be normal,” her work now pushes in the opposite direction. This fixation with sexuality and the potential for freedom it provides is what Eunjoo grapples with consistently in her work. But she does on her terms, in her own time. It’s not loud. There’s no manifesto. No capital-letter defiance. Just a slow, deliberate weaving of sensuality, ambiguity, and the instinctive self.

For her, sexiness isn't skin. Its essence. "You’re most sexy when you’re true to yourself. Not in a 'trying to be different' kind of way, but just… authentic. Fearless. Free."

Her pieces reflect this ideology – each one is unique, stitched with different snippets of herself. Similarly, her fabrics mirror her ethos; the stretched mesh and organza materials embody a breathability and mutability that refer to the continuously shifting self, a moving target. Like identity, it doesn’t settle.

 

Every piece is part of something larger.

The inspiration for Expanding Indra’s Net ver 2 is both cosmic and personal. A Buddhist documentary reconnected her with the teachings of the Avatamsaka Sutra, which imagines the universe as an infinite web, with each node reflecting every other; bound together, yet distinct. It’s a fitting metaphor for Eunjoo’s world: interconnected but fragmented, abstract but tender.

It was a happy accident with an analogue film roll that sparked the idea for digitally printed images on fabric. Unknowingly shooting over a used film roll, Eunjoo discovered a series of hauntingly layered images. Those same images were recontextualised as clothing, then deconstructed into sculpture, representing a recurring theme in her work: continuation. Echoes. Rebirth.

Her signature sewing technique—free motion embroidery—transforms the machine from a tool of straight lines and uniformity into something wild, painterly. It’s a method she stumbled into at university, inspired by quilting and water-soluble fabric that vanishes, leaving only threads behind. What remains is a visual map of emotion, memory, and movement.

Clothes are worn down. Art lingers.

While fashion often dissolves into trend cycles and wearability, Eunjoo’s garments feel closer to relics — intimate artefacts of lived experience. Her installation work builds on this sensibility, extending the narrative beyond the body and into space. Invited by 75-RC to present her evolving practice, Eunjoo felt compelled to return to her first installation, Expanding Indra’s Net ver 1, which was first held in Seoul. Her intention wasn’t to make a continued piece per se, but as the stitched forms began to evolve, they took on sculptural lives of their own.

“Art,” she tells me, “lasts longer. Clothes get worn out, but art... it stays. Clothes almost feel like waste products sometimes. We wear them, and have to throw them away as our bodies ruin them. But this? This is a fixture.”

From Seoul to London, and Beyond

The journey from her first pop-up in a friend’s cafe in Seoul to this collaboration with MK2UK was never planned. It began with a feeling — something beyond just visiting family — and grew through chance conversations, curiosity, and connection. A window space became a canvas. An exhibition space, a conversation starter.

 

 

This is only Part Two. She’s bursting at the seams with ideas for future installations: “I want to do a dance film with the cloth, maybe even do a water exhibition, and explore how the fabric shifts on a different medium”. Her second exhibition has already garnered invites for new projects in the coming months – unfortunately, confidential for now – and I can’t wait to see what she brings to the table next. 

"Nothing is final. That’s the point."

Eunjoo doesn’t want to be boxed in by labels, industries, or expectations. When asked about who or where she sees herself in the future, she resists painting a clear picture. "Nothing is final. That's the point. Who I want to be now may change in a year. Change is the only constant thing. I don't want to stick to one form of myself." She keeps it open intentionally, lingering in the grey. Like her favourite fabric, taffeta, she is always shifting. "People can call me a designer, artist, daughter… whatever. Those are just pieces of me. I hope I stay humble. I hope I stay happy." She continues.

The collaboration with 75-RC and MK2UK is a snapshot of an ongoing practice. A moment in a much larger journey. It’s about art, yes. But it’s also about connection, rebellion, and building worlds out of overlooked things.

You can explore the collection and experience the installation here, or visit the 75-RC shop, where the line between garment and artwork disappears — and something else entirely takes its place.

 

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