People in the Arts: An Artist Couple Living in the Arts

By Kang Jennis Hyun-suk

A couple of months ago, I went to a gallery cafe on Gwangju’s Art Street (예술의 거리). A lot of wonderful artworks were hanging on the walls in the cafe. Among them, a little surface relief caught my eye. It was a nude. I asked the owner of the cafe whose work it was. The lady said that her husband bought the relief as a congratulatory gesture at an artist couple’s wedding. The couple was Ju Hong and Goh Geunho. She said the two artists’ wedding was held in a gallery, where they exhibited the works that they had made during their dating period. The surface relief was also made during this time by Goh. How romantic! I thought the artworks were like love letters the dating couple sent to each other.

Thinking back, I remembered that I had once previously seen a piece of Goh’s work. It was a sculpture of two molded clay men. One was an older man in a loose suit. He had bent shoulders as if he had carried many heavy burdens on his back throughout his life. And the other was a young man in jeans with a skull-shaped buckle. One of his eyes was hidden by his long hair, and his arms were folded as if he was challenging the world. The title of the sculptures was “Father and Son.” I could empathize with the work. The era of my parents required going through a lot of difficulties on this land in the early 20th century. Thanks to them, the next generation could enjoy the fruits of life, but that is also why we do not have the ability to understand the shadows of the former generation. At the time, I wondered who this artist was who had depicted the stark contrast between the two generations. From these two encounters, I wanted to know more about this artist duo and thought that I could do so through an interview. I set up separate interviews for the two of them because I guessed that the artistic expression they were pursuing might be quite different. Before going to the interview with artist Goh, I browsed through his recent artworks on the internet. His works have changed over the years. Recently, Goh is known for his pop art. I had heard the term pop art before, but I was not sure exactly what it referred to. So, I headed to the library.

This is my favorite part of writing art articles. Going to the library helps me to learn about the artists. What I learned from the library was that “pop art,” an abbreviation for popular art, was originally born in England in the mid1950s. After World War II, pop art emerged as an art movement in England and the United States. There are several world-famous pop artists you might know: Roy Lichtenstein, who is known for the work Happy Tears; Andy Warhol, who asserted that everyone in the world should be able to enjoy the arts equally, just as everyone can enjoy the same taste of Coca-Cola; and Jean-Michel Basquiat, who brought wild graffiti into the galleries. “But are there pop artists in Korea?” I thought. The concept of pop artists was a little surprising to me.

▲ Father and Son, by Goh Geunho.

At last, I could meet artist Goh at his studio in Gwangju. When I followed him up to his studio, I thought I was in an animation park or Charlie’s Chocolate Factory. Colorful metal pieces were connected with nuts and bolts to create interesting stories. When I saw a bike emitting flower farts flying against the wall, I could not help but

▲ Goh Geunho assembling a work of art.

▲ Darth Vader, by Goh Geunho.

▲ Woman in Relief, by Goh Geunho.

laugh. I could see a lot of metal creatures. Don Quixote on Rosinante; Darth Vader, who spread the phrase “I am your father” worldwide; Wonder Woman, who was my childhood idol; and the Little Prince, who went back to his asteroid, B612. I could not help but enjoy myself with the various poses of these metal heroes.

In one of Goh’s artworks, there was a Buddha sitting and thinking inside a door. Behind the door, there was a line of people waiting earnestly for the Buddha to finish his thinking. The jovial aspect is that the waiting metal characters are from popular paintings by Klimt, Seurat, Picasso, and Munch. I felt that he was depicting diverse characters of common people in diverse waiting poses. I just dropped my jaw and said, “Wow” again and again. On the way up to the studio, I also saw his words written on a board. They read: “There is no point in life unless you are happy.” I think his words on life are expressed in all of his works.

After this amazing “tour,” we sat down in Goh’s studio for the interview. Jennis: Where on earth does your creative mind come from? Perhaps you are the artist least influenced by schooling, not fitting into a mold that society may expect. Goh Geunho: How did you know that? My nickname is Gong-dam.

Jennis: What does that mean? Goh Geunho: When I was a high school student, my teacher asked me why I had built a high barrier against studying. Actually, I was not interested in studying but in doing art at that time. After that, I call myself Gong-dam, or “wall against study” in Korean.

Jennis: So, you were able to build your creativity safely on the other side of the wall. Goh Geunho: Right. I could not catch up with the speed of my bursting ideas when I was young. But nowadays, they come at a proper speed so that I can jot them all down in my notebook.

Jennis: How positive you are! Can I ask what your childhood was like? Goh Geunho: When I was young, my mother ran a bakery. Next to the bakery, there was an underwear shop and the owner of the shop always gave me the remaining cardboard paper after selling her goods. I kept myself happy by making robots and cars by cutting and pasting the cardboard.

Jennis: So, you grew up as a pop artist? Then did you major in sculpture in college? Goh Geunho: I used to do fine art. I liked painting since I was young. One day, Prof. Ko Jong-soo, who taught us sculpture in a practical course for experiencing various fields, told me that I was talented in sculpture. From that time, I became attracted to the field of sculpture – creating something that did not exist before – so I changed my major. And I have been doing pop art sculptures for the past 20 years, coloring and assembling plate steel.

Jennis: As a pop artist, when is the happiest moment for you? Goh Geunho: When I exhibit at art fairs around the world, I am happy that my booth is popular with the children.

Jennis: I can imagine. What do you think your next direction will be? Goh Geunho: With the encouragement of those who miss my old sculptures, I am now planning to establish a studio in Yeongam.

Jennis: I hope to see your new sculptures and pop art in art galleries soon. Thank you for your time.

Most artists’ works are displayed at exhibitions, and people who want to possess them can purchase them at the art galleries. However, in the 21st century, the art process itself has become the art. Ju Hong is an artist who is trying to be free from the constraints imposed upon art and the art industry. Sometimes she draws on paper or cloth with the freedom of a musician’s creativity. Sometimes she dances or creates a story with fine sand. But there is something in common in all her diverse artworks: conveying the message of nature or words of consolation to the people.

I saw Ju Hong’s artwork in a downtown Gwangju art gallery, and we were able to talk about her artworks during our interview. Jennis: A few days ago, I saw your work with your lefthanded writing on Korean paper. Is that one of your early works? Ju Hong: Yes, it was the poem “On the Way to Eunju-sa” by Yim Dong-hwak. Eunju-sa [in Naju] is a temple that has a story handed down for centuries. A thousand years ago, the people on this land believed that if a thousand Buddha statues and a thousand pagodas could be built in one night, the ideal world could be realized. But the dream of the common people did not come true because their efforts were short by one statue. The poet recalled May 18 from the broken statues scattered here and there at Eunju-sa. I sympathized with his poem and expressed it as a painting.

Jennis: I see. Was there any special reason to paint and write with your left hand? Ju Hong: One day, I had a chance to observe my actions one by one. I was so used to drawing with my right hand, and sometimes the hand went first without me even thinking about it. It is hard for quickly written and splendid words to convey one’s true mind. As you know, children’s crooked drawings express their feelings well. I also wanted to convey my mind with my unfamiliar lefthanded drawing.

Jennis: I see. I heard that you stayed in India for years when you were a young artist. Would you tell me the story of your stay there? Ju Hong: I majored in Korean painting at Chonnam University, and I did my master’s program in fine art at ChungAng University. So, I loved to combine Western materials with traditional black ink on white paper. After completing my master’s, I had a chance to go to India to prepare for a contemporary art exhibition between Korea and India in 1995. The president of Varanas Hindu University expressed an interest in my paintings, and he suggested that I teach Korean paintings to his students. barrier.” Fortunately, I was able to teach art with simple English.

Jennis: How was your stay in India overall? Ju Hong: I stayed in India for four years, coming and going eleven times. I have written my story of India as a newspaper column. It was a wonderful experience for me, but because I could not eat properly, it damaged my health.

▲ Korea-Eurasia Roadrun, We Must Meet, painting performance by Ju Hong.

▲ Ju Hong depicting Gwanghwa-mun in sand art.

▲ Finding Lost Memories, by Ju Hong, 518 UNESCO Archives Exhibition.

Jennis: I am curious to know how you met your husband, artist Goh Geunho. Ju Hong: It happened suddenly. One autumn day, as I was watching the falling leaves, I realized I was in my mid-30s. I suddenly missed having someone to have my meals with. Th en I thought of Goh and called him to have dinner together. We had known each other as artist colleagues. And he said yes! But we were both too shy for just the two of us to meet. So, we brought some friends along, and it became a big happy dinner. Th at was the beginning of our story.

Jennis: Th at is how this artist couple was born! And, I also heard that you wrote books for your children. Ju Hong: Living as artists, especially since our art was experimental, we did not make much money at that time. But we wanted to give our children something special as artist parents. Th eir father made artworks out of junk materials and took pictures of the process, and as a mother, I wrote a story and made a picture book for it. Th e title of the book is Th e Worn-Out Bike (고물자전거). Luckily, the book was then introduced on a children’s TV program and became popular. Another TV program fi lmed the process of making picture books in a documentary and aired it nationwide. Later, the book was selected as an outstanding book at the Bologna Book Fair in Italy and at the Frankfurt Book Fair in Germany.

Jennis: Wow, what a story! Your love for your children was surely conveyed to the people. By the way, I read your profi le and found that you are a healing artist. How did you come to want to be a healing artist? Ju Hong: Aft er my marriage, I needed work to earn a living. Fortunately, I had a certifi cate as an art teacher, so I started to work as an art teacher on an island. Th e island of Anjwado (안좌도), one of the islands of Sinan [off the west coast], is the hometown of the famous Korean painter Kim Hwan-gi. However, there were some students there who lived with their grandmother instead of their parents and who had left the island to make money. Some of the children were mentally retarded , being unable to write letters or numbers. I taught them timetables and the letters of Hangul through art in their aft er-school classes. Th ey surprisingly improved themselves a lot. Th rough this experience, I learned that painting has the power of healing, and I wanted to study more about it. So, I went to Wonkwang University for a doctorate in art therapy.

Jennis: Amazing, I respect how you strive to develop yourself constantly. Now you work as director of a gallery, Th e Box of Th oughts (생각상자), and as curator of May Hall. Is May Hall concerned with Gwangju’s May 18? Ju Hong: Right. May Hall is located across from the Asia Culture Center (ACC). In 2012, at the suggestion of pastor and artist Im Uijin, citizens and artists joined to create a space to preserve the spirit of Gwangju.

Jennis: I see, but the ACC was built in memory of and to keep the spirit of democracy, was it not? Ju Hong: Yes, but some of the citizens, including some artists, thought that the spirit of Gwangju’s citizens could not be properly preserved under the government’s control. So, every Saturday at 2 a.m., several people got together and painted graffi ti on the walls of the ACC construction site. Th e people of diverse generations got together as one at that time and made a plan to create a space to preserve the spirit of Gwangju citizens. Th at is May Hall.

Jennis: And it has already been ten years since then! Th is might be a silly question, but what made you concerned about May 18? And would you tell me what your next steps as an artist might be? Ju Hong: I think the experience of May 18 at a young age has guided me through my whole life. I have kept thinking about why it happened, how we can heal ourselves, and what we leave for our following generations as a legacy of democracy. As an artist, I will keep fi nding ways of doing this. I think that artists exist to help people discover their abilities for self-healing.

Jennis: It is said that art has come about to give comfort and hope from primitive times. It is amazing that you constantly develop yourself in diverse way as an artist. Th ank you for your time.

Artist Goh Geunho achieved excellent results at Hong Kong’s Asia Auction Week and Singapore’s Larasati Auction, and his works were also welcomed at the Tokyo Modern Art Fair and the COEX International Art Fair in Seoul. His Heroes series, which was created from cartoon and historical heroes, has been continuously popular. I wonder who his next hero will be. Ju Hong is working as an artist of Gwangju and for Gwangju. She is an artist with soul and wants to be a guerrilla of culture. I support the lives of this artist couple, who are diff erent but similar, and who are ardent supporters of each other.

Kang “Jennis” Hyunsuk is a freelance English tutor and a once-in-a-while interpreter. She worked for the Asia Culture Center during its opening season and likes to grow greens and walk her dog. Every weekend, she goes to the countryside and takes photos of nature with her husband.

Korean folklore is full of the supernatural: flying horses, phoenixes, three-headed fowls, pipe-smoking tigers, prankplaying and evil spirits, and of course, dragons and ghosts of all sorts. We have gone back through our archives to find a duo of very interesting articles on the latter two. Adam Volle writes about dragons and their journey to Korea (“Dragons Are Important in Korean Mythology,” Gwangju News, September 2013), while Stephen Redeker tells us all about “Korean Ghosts” (Gwangju News, December 2012). Have no fear; pure enjoyment is to come. — Ed.

Dragons are important in Korean mythology, so how did they come to Korea? The simple answer is “from China.” Archaeologists have discovered dragon statues in Henan that date back to the Stone Age. The culture that made those statues probably shared the dragon concept with the ancestors of ethnic Koreans.

But China is only the birthplace of the dragon’s appearance and basic associations (power, rain, and luck). To truly understand Korean dragons, look to the birthplace of their stories: India. India is the home of Buddhism, one of Korea’s major religions. India is also the home of the nāga, a spirit that usually takes the form of a king cobra and sometimes that of a human. The nāga can fly but does not make a habit of it for the understandable fear that a bird might attack it. As one of India’s old gods, nāgas have a place in most Indian religions, and Indian Buddhism is no exception.

One famous nāga in Indian Buddhism is Mucalinda, king of the snakes. Legends say that when a storm rained upon the Buddha during his meditation, Mucalinda covered the Buddha with his hood. Afterward, Mucalinda invited the Buddha to his underwater palace and became the Buddha’s first follower.

If you are acquainted with East Asian dragon stories, this story sounds familiar. Chinese, Korean, and Japanese mythologies all have dragon kings who live in underwater palaces. In all three cultures, dragons are also the Buddha’s first believers.

Yes, many Buddhist stories about dragons in East Asia are actually nāga stories. Moreover, every dragon story in Asia is influenced by them. Like the teachings of the Buddha, the stories of nāgas told by Indian missionaries became very popular with Chinese people, and it is not hard to understand how they heard the Indians talk about large, flying snakes and thought they must be talking about dragons.

The misunderstanding greatly changed East Asian concepts of dragons. Before Buddhism, Chinese people understood dragons as controllers of rain, but they did not believe a dragon might live in any river, lake, or ocean. Nobody believed in dragon kings. Dragons certainly did not have the wish-fulfilling orbs, which in Korean are called yeouiju (여의주, dragon ball). The orbs are from an Indian legend about a jewel called the Cirimani.

Most importantly, the job of dragons changed with the Indian influence; they became protectors more than rainmakers. Indeed, dragons even became the guardians of Buddhism’s Three Gems: the Buddha, the Buddha’s teachings, and Buddhist monks. As Korea became a Buddhist land, dragons logically became guardians of Korea itself – and though Buddhism later declined, Korean interest in dragons never has.

What exactly are Korean ghosts? There are precisely four types of Korean ghosts, called gwishin (귀신), which are believed to be the spirits of the deceased who have not been able to fulfill their life’s purpose. They are stuck in the afterlife, still haunting the living, not able to cross over to “the other side,” and waiting for their souls to be appeased. The origins of these spiritual beliefs stem from shamanism, an ancient religion that still has its followers in Korea, which deals with supernatural spirits in the natural world. Numerous shamanistic rituals deal with appeasing these gwishin. Subsequently, there are many Korean horror films that feature ghosts looking like deathly pale girls wearing white gowns. Their lips are blood red and they seem to float on air. This resembles the ghost called cheonyeo-gwishin (처녀귀신).

The cheonyeo-gwishin is the most common of the four types of Korean ghosts. She is the “virgin ghost,” the girl who could not serve her full purpose in life. It was very difficult to be a woman in early Korean times; her life would consist of only serving her father, her husband, and her children. If she had failed in achieving her wish and had lifelong resentment, her life would have been meaningless and her soul would be stuck in our world. This ghost wears traditional white mourning clothes called sobok (소복) and wears her long hair down because she does not have the right to wear her hair up, as married women traditionally did. She holds grudges over those who may have caused her harm and continues to haunt them. The Ring is a film based on an earlier Japanese horror movie that features a ghost such as this.

The male equivalent to the cheonyeo-gwishin ghost is the chonggak-gwishin (총각귀신). Also known as mongdalgwishin (몽달귀신), he is the unmarried bachelor ghost. Sometimes there are shamanistic rituals that aim to unite these two forms of ghosts, the cheonyeo- and chonggakgwishin, so that they may be married. If successful, their life would be completed and satisfied (in a spiritual sense). At peace, they may then be permitted to enter the afterworld. In pop culture and films, the female ghost is much more common than the male version.

Some people say drowning is the worst way to die. Well, there is a ghost for that. A mul-gwishin (물귀신) is the spirit of someone who drowned, a “water ghost.” These ghosts are very lonely, living in the cold water where they died, so they may pull the living down into the watery depths if they are not careful. This spirit has led to the Korean term mul-gwishin jakjeon (물귀신 작전), meaning “water ghost tactics.” This expression means that someone is dragging you down so that you suffer ▲ Painting of Gumiho, the nine-tailed fox.

The ghost named dalgyal-gwishin (달걀귀신) might be the strangest. It is egg-shaped with no eyes, nose, mouth, or even arms or legs. According to legend, if one sets eyes on it, they will die. The ghost has no personality or discernable emotions or origins. This is the deadliest and most frightening ghost. Some say it lives in the mountains and haunts those who traverse its paths.

Another ghost worth mentioning here is the “nine-tailed fox” ghost (gumiho, 구미호). Long ago, it was believed that certain animals could obtain human-like characteristics. This nine-tailed fox is an example, as it could change into a beautiful woman and lure an unsuspecting man to his death (by eating out his liver). This ghost is mainly seen as an evil spirit, but a recent Korean romantic film called My Girlfriend Is a Gumiho (내 여자친구는 구미호) totally changed that image. This film, starring Lee Seung-gi and Shin Min-ah, gives a very cute and bubbly depiction of the gumiho ghost. In the movie, the ghost is trying to have a successful relationship with her boyfriend in order to fully become human!

As in many other countries and cultures, Korea has its share of unique ghosts that have arisen from old beliefs carried down through the centuries. Although not as feared as they were in the past, they still serve their purposes as entertainment and as a glimpse into what people once believed to be true. Now, armed with an education in Korean “ghost lore,” many of these popular Korean horror movies may have more meaning. How about some Hollywood remakes with a few gwishin in the plot? Wouldn't it be great to see a Korean version of Ghostbusters featuring all of these ghosts? Written by Adam Volle and Stephen Redeker. Arranged by David Shaffer.