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"I cannot give up my Korean nationality" Eom Dohyeon, ceramicist
- Léa Baron
- 2 days ago
- 6 min read
Based in France since 2010, Eom Dohyeon divides her time between creative work and teaching. Having worked as a photographer and later as a ceramicist under the name "Forêt de Hyo"—while also teaching Korean—she uses her personal journey to share the freedom of being herself that she discovered in France, her deep connection to South Korea, and the process of forging an identity between two cultures.
From Paris to Brittany, and now Arles: a portrait of a creator who found a language in art.
Written by Léa Baron | June 12, 2026
"It’s a mix of Marseille and Le Havre." That is how Eom Dohyeon describes her hometown, Ulsan, a major port city in southeastern Korea, near Busan. An industrial and maritime hub, it is home to Hyundai’s massive automotive and shipbuilding complexes.
"I come from a very simple and fairly traditional family," she says over a cup of tea. Her father worked for thirty-five years at the same shipbuilding company, while her mother, a former nurse, became a homemaker.
Like many young Koreans, she followed a demanding academic path. Her mother hoped she would pursue higher education. But at the end of high school, a conversation with a classmate upended her certainties.
"She was talking about her dreams. I realized I had never really thought about what I wanted to do." This realization led her to choose design studies in Seoul. Yet, she quickly felt the limitations of a highly hierarchical, male-dominated system with an almost "military" structure.
"I wanted something more creative, freer."
From South Korea to France: a desire for freedom
During her studies, several trips to Europe changed her trajectory. In Germany, England, and then France, she discovered different ways of living and creating. Meeting French students on exchange programs ultimately convinced her.
In 2010, she left Korea for France.
After a year spent learning French in Strasbourg, she enrolled at the École nationale supérieure d'art de Paris-Cergy (ENSAPC). It was a major culture shock. "The first year, I understood maybe 20% of what was being said to me. It was tough. I’d smile and pretend I understood," she recalls today with a laugh.
But the school also opened up a new creative realm for her. "In Korea, you have to choose your specialization very early on. At Cergy, I was able to take classes in film, dance, and sculpture... I experienced a freedom I’d never known before."
Photography as a language
At art school, she also discovered photography. At the time, the French language remained a barrier, and presenting her projects orally required immense effort. Then one day, she simply showed her images.
"I didn't even need to explain myself anymore. People understood exactly what I meant right away. That’s when I chose photography as my artistic language."
She further developed this practice while pursuing a master’s degree at the University of Paris 8, before co-founding a small Franco-Korean publishing house specializing in photography (Ces éditions).
In 2023, she published *Daegu était un grand étang* (Aprilsnow Press), a book exploring the traces of long-vanished lakes and the memories of the residents of that Korean city. This work will be showcased in Arles in 2024 at the renowned photography festival.
After Covid, her life took a new turn.
Brittany, nature, and ceramics
She left the Paris region with her partner at the time to settle in a small Breton village of a thousand inhabitants, surrounded by forests and crossed by a river. For the first time, she had space, time, and a studio.
That was where her passion for ceramics was born.
It started out simply as a gift. Her ex-partner is a great tea lover, and she wants to give him a teapot "made with her own hands." The challenge immediately captivates her, as the teapot is one of the most complex pieces to create.
Over the years, she learns on her own, experimenting, observing, and meeting other artisans from Brittany. "Ceramics has become my artistic language," she declares, her eyes shining with passion.
What started as a hobby gradually evolved into a profession. She founded *La Forêt de Hyo*, her ceramics studio, where she crafts teapots, bowls, cups, vases, and plates.
"I don't set out to represent Korean culture in my ceramics, yet it naturally shines through in my work," she explains.
A great admirer of Joseon Dynasty porcelain and the famous "moon jars," she now recognizes the subtle influence of that heritage on her own creations.
Finding happiness a different way—without children
In Brittany, she also discovered a different way of life. "I spent my days immersed in nature, creating, and walking my dog. That was also where I realized I could find fulfillment without following the traditional path of marriage and children," she confides.
"I loved my freedom, my work, and my daily routine. I adore children, and for a long time, I imagined having a family like the one I grew up in. But I came to realize that I could be deeply happy living life differently."
Her creations took on a central role in her life. "Sometimes, I feel they represent another form of passing something on. I am leaving something behind—something crafted with my own hands."
Initially, her parents were disappointed by her choices; they had envisioned a more conventional path for her. Over time, however, their perspective shifted.
One day, when she confided in her mother about her doubts regarding motherhood, her mother replied, "You don't have to have children; it’s not a big deal." This reaction took her by surprise, contrasting sharply with the expectations she had faced when she was younger.
Her father also demonstrated this change in attitude. After a breakup, he simply told her, "You, too, can live like a man." These words touched her deeply, symbolizing the gradual acceptance of the path she had chosen.
Arles: A New Base
After a separation, she returned to the Paris region for a time before settling—almost by chance—in Arles, a city that had left a lasting impression on her during a photography festival.
Today, she has set up her studio there, acquired a kiln through crowdfunding, and continues to develop her work as a ceramicist.
Alongside this, she gives private Korean lessons to French speakers. This allows her to maintain a daily connection with her native language while also observing how perceptions of Korea are evolving.
Hallyu as seen from France
When she began teaching Korean about a decade ago, her students often had a Korean partner or some personal connection to the country. "Today, many people are interested in it thanks to the global spread of Korean culture."
Demand for her classes has skyrocketed over the past six or seven years. "When I first arrived in France, many people couldn't even locate Korea on a map. Now, they know the artists and TV series, and sometimes even a few phrases in Korean. It’s remarkable!"
Between two countries
After sixteen years in France, Eom Dohyeon has built her life here, yet Korea remains a constant part of her daily life.
She closely follows political news from her home country, votes remotely, and listens primarily to Korean music. "It transports me and stirs my emotions," she confides.
Korea is also present in her cooking. Although Korean grocery stores are scarce in Arles, she adapts recipes from her childhood: "I make *doenjang-jjigae* my own way using local ingredients. Sometimes I even make my kimchi with celeriac!"
"I remain deeply attached to Korea, even though I’ve built my life in France."
Whenever she visits Paris, she stocks up on *ramyeon* (instant noodles) and products that are unavailable in the south of France. And when her mother comes to visit, she always brings Korean cosmetics in her luggage.
This connection to her homeland remains vital, and she refuses to contemplate a symbolic break from it. In South Korea, acquiring another nationality entails losing one's original citizenship.
"I cannot give up my Korean nationality," she asserts. "I remain deeply attached to Korea, even though I’ve built my life in France."
It is here that she feels she has found a kind of freedom that suits her better. "I feel freer from social pressure here. In Korea, I often feel like I’m constantly being judged."
She has experienced this difference even in how she relates to her own body. As a child, she was involved in a serious car accident that left a large scar on her leg. For a long time, she avoided showing it for fear of how others might look at her. "In France, I realized that people didn't care," she says. Gradually, she grew more confident. "I don't need to wear makeup, style my hair, or worry about what others think of my clothes."
It is a freedom that stays with her. "Now, I tell myself it doesn't matter if people stare or judge me. It’s no longer something that holds me back from living my life." At the age of 37, Dohyeon found the freedom in France to be fully herself.
