Theresa Hak Kyung Cha’s hands and gloves represent the complex relationship between art and life. Hong begins her chapter on Cha by describing how Cha delivered a series of photographs to a gallery right before Joseph Sanza raped and murdered her. Cha would be showing the photographs, which depicted different people’s hands, in an upcoming exhibit. Later, at the end of the essay, Hong notes that the first thing Cha’s brother John encountered when he stumbled on her crime scene was her bloodied glove, which appeared to be full of air but quickly deflated. John calls it his sister’s “final art piece.” Remarkably, her photography exhibit was planned for later the same day.
This coincidence points to the broader, disturbing parallel between Cha’s work and her death. Life appears to have imitated art in this situation, not only because Dictee’s focus on violence against women can be seen as predicting Cha’s murder, but also because her physical hands were found to be absent in her glove at the same time as they were present in her art. One way to interpret this coincidence would be to say that the image of the deflating, bloodied glove suggests that Cha’s spirit somehow departed it—presumably to relocate itself in her exhibit (her artwork). Of course, it’s also significant that hands are the central tools in virtually all of the labor that human beings perform—including the literary and creative work done by artists like Hong and Cha. However, Hong also consistently warns her readers against trying to treat Cha’s death as an “answer key” to the meaning of her work. Thus, readers should view these coincidences as a starting point for further analysis about Cha’s life and work but not as a definitive statement about their meaning.