Koreana Autumn 2011 (English)

a ut umn 2011

Korean Culture & Arts

Handicrafts and Design

vo l. 25 n o . 3

Special Feature a utum n 2011

Korean Design Aesthetics

Wooden Furniture; Textile Art; Pottery; Lacquer Painting; Metal Craft

ISSN 1016-0744

v o l. 25 n o. 3

A Glimpse at Works by Modern Artisans

PUBLISHER EDITORIAL DIRECTOR EDITOR-IN-CHIEF EDITORIAL BOARD

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Kim Byung-kook Zeon Nam-jin Lee Kyong-hee Bae Bien-u Elisabeth Chabanol Han Kyung-koo Kim Hwa-young Kim Moon-hwan Kim Young-na Koh Mi-seok Song Hye-jin Song Young-man Werner Sasse Dean Jiro Aoki Lim Sun-kun Teresita M. Reed Cho Yoon-jung Charles La Shure Chung Myung-je Hwang Sun-ae Kim Young-kyu Min Eun-young

CREATIVE DIRECTOR ART DIRECTOR DESIGNER LAYOUT & DESIGN

Kim Sam Lee Duk-lim Kim Ji-hyun Kim’s Communication Associates

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS Autumn 2011 Published quarterly by The Korea Foundation 2558 Nambusunhwan-ro, Seocho-gu, Seoul 137-863, Korea

A scene from a video introduction of textile designer Chang Eung-bok’s exhibition “Hidden Flowers,” held in Seoul in 2010.

Calligraphy © Kang Byung-in

“Morning Sea” (detail), lacquer painting by Jun Yong-bok, 60cmx60cm, 2010.

The World of Korea’s Modern Artisans For every nation and people, there is a familiar aesthetic that can be seen in the ordinary objects of their everyday life. This is also true of Korea, where there is a lengthy history of making daily items that has been carried on by generations of artisans. Though their names are unknown, their spirit remains palpable in the vast array of craftworks that are admired as true works of art today.

Unlike their predecessors, the artisans of our time, like those who are introduced in this edition, have earned a personal reputation for their works. In this regard, they may be called the first generation of modern-day Korean artisans who have managed to attain

their own artistic voice. Whether consciously or not, they have been enriched by the wealth of creative traditions left behind by these long-ago craftsmen and their works, which exude a distinctive essence of the Korean aesthetic.

Koreana is pleased to offer a glimpse into the world of Korea’s foremost artisans who represent the esprit of our times through their dedicated pursuit of innovative artisanship.

This special feature is an effort to shed light on these masterful artisans of former and present generations and to explore the significance of their unique crafts.

Lee Kyong-hee Editor-in-Chief

Special Feature Handicrafts and Design

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introduction

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Choi Joon-sik

wooden furniture

Lee Jeong-sup Revives the Spirit of Joseon Furniture

Goo Bon-joon

textile art

Chang Eung-bok Adopts Folk Motifs for Interior Styling

Jeon Eun-kyung

Pottery

Yi Yoon-shin Promotes Everyday Dinnerware

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Jeon Eun-kyung

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Lacquer painting

Jun Yong-bok Extends the Boundaries of Traditional Art

Park Hyun-sook

Metal craft

Yu Kuk-il Designs Metal Speakers for the Pure Sounds of Nature

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08

Korean Design Aesthetics: Simple, Natural and Human

Kim Young-woo

Focus 1

Exploring the Future of Korean Studies Worldwide

Huh Jin-suk

Focus 2

Joseon Royal Books Return Home after 145 Years in France

Lee Kyong-hee

Art Review

Landscapes of a Thousand Years Captured in the ‘Light of Time’

Interview

Lee Moon-jae

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Beneath the Flamboyance, A Sense of Sadness Lee Yong-baek at 2011 Venice Biennale Koh Mi-seok On the global stage

A Global Bestseller: Shin Kyung-sook’s ‘Please Look After Mom’

Kim Mi-hyun

ARtisan

Potter Kim Il-mahn Preserves the Age-old Tradition of Onggi Ware

Park Hyun-sook

on the road

Millennium Pilgrimage of the Tripitaka Koreana

Venerable Sungahn 54

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Books & More Kim Hak-soon English Translation of Abridged Classic of Joseon Scholar

‘Admonitions on Governing the People’ Written by Jeong Yak-yong Korea’s Natural Wonders Earn Michelin Star Ratings

‘Korea Green Guide’ Published by Michelin

Music Beyond Music: Cutting-edge Recording Technology Meets Tradition ‘Echoes of the Great Pines’ (CD) Released by 31st Productions 86

80 82 86 90

Entertainment

‘I Am a Singer’ Leads TV Entertainment Shows

Lee Young-mee

Gourmet’s Delight

Bindaeddeok : Korean Pancake for Any Day, Any Occasion

Ye Jong-seok

Lifestyle

Busan Seagulls: Passionate Baseball Fans of the Lotte Giants

Song Young-man

journeys in Korean literature

Critique: Guides to Pathless Ways: The Fiction of Kim Mi-wol Guide to Seoul Cave by Kim Mi-wol

Lee Kwang-ho

Introduction

Handicrafts and Design

Korean Design Aesthetics:

Simple, Natural and Human What elements make up the cultural DNA of modern Korean designers?

Clues to this can be found in the exquisite blend of the natural and the man-made in the coarsely made ceramic bowls and the unique patchwork wrapping cloths of the Joseon Dynasty.

Choi Joon-sik Professor, Department of Korean Studies, Graduate School of International Studies at Ewha Womans University

A patchwork wrapping cloth (Museum of Korean Embroidery) and an 18th century “moon jar� (National Museum of Korea)

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he artistic sentiments expressed in traditional Korean art are as varied as the history of Korea is long, so it is impractical to fully examine its related details. For example, comparison of the art of Baekje of 1,500 years ago and the art of Joseon from 100 years ago would show that they are as different as the arts of separate countries. As such, this article offers a discussion of Korea’s traditional arts from the perspective of modern-day Koreans. Surprisingly, the art that most Koreans today think of as traditional is not from the distant past, but in large part from the late Joseon period (late 16th century to late 19th century). For example, the uniquely Korean vocal art form pansori , designated an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO, attained its current form in the late 19th century. It is the aesthetic characteristics of the art works created during this period that will be examined here.

Palace Architecture A particularly noticeable aspect of the Korean arts from this period is the unconventional aesthetic expressions of asymmetry and spontaneity. Koreans seem to have an inherent resistance to conventional orderliness. This is especially evident in a comparison of Korean art to the art of China and Japan, which all belong to the same cultural sphere of Northeast Asia. The art works of China and Japan favor an ideal of perfect symmetry, but during the late Joseon period, asymmetric works dominated the art scene, in regard to ceramic vessels and building architecture.

Palace architecture is an example of this distinction. Palace architecture in China, as seen in the Forbidden City, is based on a principle that features a central axis, running from the front gate to the rear gate, along which buildings are arranged symmetrically. Of the five Joseon palaces in Seoul today, only Gyeongbok Palace adopts this Chinese design layout. The remaining palaces, and especially Changdeok Palace, a UNESCO World Heritage site, were all built with an asymmetric layout based on the natural terrain, which does not conform to the conventional axis alignment.

Patchwork Wrapping Cloths and ‘Moon Jars’ When discussing asymmetrical aesthetics of Joseon, we should not overlook the patchwork wrapping cloths. Patchwork wrapping cloths, which are made from leftover scraps of fabric, require meticulous sewing techniques; but it is their composition that makes them so noteworthy. Since they are made with scraps, each cloth is a truly one of a kind work. As such, it would not be possible for the cloths to have a symmetrical appearance. Indeed, it is a wonder that such practical wrapping cloths can be made from randomly shaped pieces of fabric.

When completed, though, the overall composition is a beautiful blend of colors and shapes, based on an unseen order of its own asymmetry and spontaneity. When these patchwork wrapping cloths are exhibited abroad, viewers often ask who the artist is, because of their striking appearance. But as all Koreans know, these designs were created by nameless women of Joseon. They never studied art or design, and yet have left behind such elegant works of art.

Another essential aspect to any discussion of the Korean design aesthetic is the appropriately named “moon jar,” a rotund white porcelain vessel that was a signature ceramics type of the late Joseon period. Of all the moon jars that remain in existence, no two are exactly alike in color or shape. In some way, each piece is unique. And in particular, there is a definite asymmetry or irregularity in its appearance. Most often, one side is lopsided or appears to be dented somewhat. This kind of asymmetrical white porcelain is difficult to find in Japan or China. But in Korea, this style of porceK o r e a n a ı A u t u mn 2 011

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lain ware was the norm.

Interestingly, this type of jar was made by joining together two sections, upper and lower. Yet the seam joint is left visible. If you look closely at the jar’s middle section, you can often see fine cracks that have formed at the seam. This is another feature found only in Korean ceramics. That is, Koreans are less interested in the details and not greatly concerned with minor flaws that may appear during the production process. But to Chinese or Japanese artists, this would be a haphazard way of working. Many Korean art works boldly leave out the details and focus only on the bigger picture. So, many Korean works of art will appear more attractive from a distance but reveal a somewhat coarse finish when seen up close. If Korean artisans were not highly skilled, this less than refined approach would simply lead to inferior works; but when combined with exceptional craftsmanship, it can result in unparalleled works of art.

This artistic spirit is also seen in the works known as “rough” bowls. These ceramic bowls were highly popular in Japan, from the 17th century, due to their coarse look and rugged character. This artistic approach might be associated with the problematic concept of naturalism. The artisans who crafted these bowls did their best to highlight natural effects, like allowing the glaze to flow freely while the bowls were being fired and paying no heed if a side bulged outward, thereby expressing the Korean aesthetic of endearing imperfection. This unrefined approach produced a natural appearance that was popular among the Japanese, who were long accustomed to artistic symmetry. (Yet these bowls were not at all popular in China!)

Wood Furniture It must not be forgotten that there is another aesthetical aspect in Korean art, quite apart from asymmetry or spontaneity. This would be a sense of simplicity, or even naivety. Most of the art works from the late Joseon period are simple in appearance, likely due to the influences of Confucianism, and NeoConfucianism in particular, which advocated restraint. The moon jar would be a typical example of this. In Japan or China, there are few ceramic works like the moon jar, which is left plain white with absolutely no decorative element on its surface.

The aesthetic sentiment of the moon jar is a combination of spontaneity and simplicity, but there are other works of Korean art that exhibit an exceedingly refined and simple style. The most representative example would be the wooden furniture of Joseon, which can be called world-class works of art for their perfect sense of proportion, simplicity, and natural appearance. Joseon wood furniture is another broad subject that needs to be examined from various perspectives, but here we will deal with its basic simplicity.

The furniture takes on regular forms in order to be functional and practical for home interiors. It should be noted that a large majority of wooden furniture works were designed to be as simple as possible, in accordance with the principles of Neo-Confucianism, which called for self-restraint. The exceedingly elaborate works of art that can be found in China are not often seen in Korea. Instead, many works sought to forsake as much ornamentation as possible.

This is also the case with Joseon furniture, but these items of furniture were exceptional for their ideal sense of proportion. The proportions, which need nothing more and nothing less, bring to mind the elegance of Seokgatap pagoda at Bulguk Temple, which reflects this kind of minimalist concept. (This stone pagoda is the most simple in design, and yet the most exceptional in Korea thanks to its perfect proportions.) Eschewing the elaborate ornamentation of Chinese or Japanese furniture, Joseon artisans focused on simplicity and took great pains to preserve the wood’s natural features, like the original grain.

Avoidance of artifice is a prominent characteristic of Joseon aesthetics, which is readily apparent in the wooden furniture.

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Many Korean art works are designed to boldly omit details and to instead focus on the bigger picture.

If Korean artisans were not highly skilled, this less than refined approach would simply lead to inferior works; but when combined with exceptional craftsmanship, it can result in unparalleled works of art.

Joseon rough bowls and a decorative wooden shelf (National Museum of Korea) K o r e a n a 覺 A u t u mn 2 011

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Wooden Furniture

Handicrafts and Design

Lee Jeong-sup Revives the Spirit of Joseon Furniture Lee Jeong-sup is acclaimed as a master furniture maker who has helped to revive the tradition of Joseon-period wood furniture. He started out on the path of a painter, but he took a side road and eventually ended up in a mountain village, where he makes furniture inheriting the spirit of traditional Korean architecture.

Goo Bon-joon Staff Reporter, The Hankyoreh | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

1. The tea room of Space Hanok in the Space Group building, which is furnished with Lee Jeong-sup's works: a tea table, low single shelf, and a set of shelves for the tea implements.

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hen the Space Group opened a bookshop in its building in Wonseo-dong, Seoul, it was furnished with the works of carpenter Lee Jeong-sup, including tables, chairs, bookshelves, and other objects, making it the talk of the town among cultural circles. The building, designed by the late architect Kim Swoo-geun, the founder of the group and pioneer of the first generation of modern Korean architects, is a pilgrimage site for architecture students and a place of interest for international architects when they visit Seoul. Space Architecture, a leading Korean architectural design firm, was impressed with the refinement of Lee’s works and thus set out to make them known to the world. Visitors to the Space Bookshop can sit and browse through books about architecture in chairs made by Lee.

Competing with Import Brands The wooden furniture of Joseon is typically dark in tone yet preserves the subtle and unique features of the wood; it is simple in shape and devoid of ornamental embellishments, but with an ideal sense of proportion. It exudes the warmth of a bygone time but at the same time is more modern than today’s furniture with its pure clean style. This is why the revival of the tradition of Joseon wood furniture has been such a persistent goal of modern Korean designers.

As for Lee, who would rather be called a carpenter than a furniture designer, he is acclaimed as the foremost furniture artisan who is keeping alive the traditional aesthetics of Joseon wood furniture. His works are characterized by an extremely simple design, which emphasizes a natural and minimal appearance. In reverence of the true nature of the wood that he uses, Lee faithfully creates durable and lasting pieces. The slight upward curve in the seats of his chairs brings to mind the curved roofline of traditional Korean architecture, while the fit of the seat and the legs is reminiscent of a building’s support pillars.

Lee and his works have come to be highly regarded only recently. In late 2007, he opened Naechon Carpenter’s Workshop in Cheongdam-dong, Seoul, which is lined with stores selling international brand name furniture, for the purpose of “going head-to-head” with these popular brands. Though the economic outcome of his venture has yet to be determined, his works quickly began to garner public attention. With its graceful harmony of traditional Korean aesthetics and modern design elements, his furniture is an attractive addition for both traditional and modern spaces, and thus quickly gained popularity. As a designer of masterpiece furnishings, Lee is sometimes compared to the Japanese-American master woodworker George Nakashima.

‘There is No Such Thing as Creation’ 1

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In Korea, architects have traditionally been carpenters. And even today, the builders of traditional structures are typically carpenters rather than architects, since traditional Korean

2. A table with legs of forged iron. This piece shows the unique harmony of forged iron legs by Junji Kawai (blacksmith, adjunct professor at Musashino Art University and Tokyo University of the Arts) and a wooden tabletop by Lee Jeong-sup.

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buildings are constructed almost entirely from wood. In ancient times, every building, from the largest palace to the smallest home, was built by carpenters. There are two types of carpenters in Korea: those who put up buildings and those who make furniture and fixtures, such as windows and doors. The two fields are clearly separate.

But Lee works in both areas, since he first worked as a carpenter so that he could build houses. Earlier on, he had dreamed about being a painter. He majored in painting at Seoul National University, but soon lost interest when he found the world of fine arts to be overly institutionalized and exclusive. He then set aside that dream and began to do what he had always wanted to do. He was fond of making things and had long been intrigued with a small

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1. Space Bookshop, an open archives in the Space Group building, furnished by Lee jeong-sup.

2. A low single shelf, which exhibits Lee Jeong-sup's artless construction and unique proportions.

3. Carpenter Lee Jeong-sup, who “makes furniture when it rains and works on the house when it does not.”

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house his uncle had built in his hometown village. That humble abode of his uncle, who was neither a carpenter nor an architect, was a source of inspiration and creativity for him.

Lee sought to build houses he would like to live in, that is, functional homes with no pretense of design, which actually would become more attractive when lived in. For this, he enrolled at a school of traditional Korean architecture and transformed himself into a carpenter. It was no surprise, though, that no one asked this young carpenter with no architect’s license and no experience to build a house for them. So, he turned his attention to furniture making. He began to make furniture because no one else was producing the kind of furniture that met with his approval.

Lee set out to make simple furniture “with good materials and an attractive appearance.”

Also, the furniture had to be sturdy. But unable to find what he wanted, he began to make his own articles, infused with his minimalist design aesthetic. The elegance of Lee’s furniture, with no need for ornamental features, is expressed through its structure. He never thought to consider economic feasibility and eschewed mass production methods. Indeed, everything he produced was hand-made. And soon enough, news of his handcrafted work spread quickly by word of mouth.

After Lee distinguished himself as a master furniture maker, he was able to realize his dream of being an architect as well. Those impressed by his minimalist furniture wanted him to build houses in the same style. Like his furniture, the houses that Lee designed and built are noticeably simple and bring out the natural beauty of their materials.

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Throughout his career, Lee has been known to resist the latest trends, yet his works are regarded as true masterpieces of our time because he has upheld the simple yet difficult-to-maintain values of honesty and sincerity.

Interestingly enough, Lee will never say that he created his own designs. Instead, to him, the greatest-ever designs of humankind have existed since the distant past and he merely borrows from these ideas. “When I viewed Mesopotamian pottery at the British Museum, I realized that the most perfect designs had already been made long ago. There is no such thing as creation. I simply make furniture based on a combination of the existing proportions,” he said.

Mountain Village Workshop Lee spends all his time at his workshop in Naechon-myeon, Hongcheon County, Gangwon Province, surrounded by wood. It has been 10 years since he settled here, about a twoand-a-half-hour drive from Seoul, where the natural environment is perfectly preserved and the vitality of a mountain village can be readily sensed. His house, built with his own two hands and filled with simple furniture, is a real-life example of his design philosophy. Here, he “makes furniture when it rains and works on the house when it does not.”

Since the furniture-making process begins with the selection of the most suitable wood, which is then aged for at least five years, and ends with such a sturdily-built piece that you could toss it about without causing any damage, Lee’s production output is naturally limited by the time-consuming processes. All of the materials he uses, even the adhesives, are certified by the FDA for consumer safety, and if he cannot find a part to his liking he will make it himself. Throughout his career, Lee has been known to resist the latest trends, yet his works are regarded as true masterpieces of our time because he has upheld the simple yet difficultto-maintain values of honesty and sincerity.

1. Lee Jeong-sup's guesthouse 2. The lounge of Space Bookshop, furnished with Lee Jeong-sup's sofa, chair, and low round table.

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Textile Art

Koreana

Handicrafts and Design

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hang Eung-bok is the kind of designer who can take a diamond in the rough and turn it into a brilliant gemstone. After studying textile arts at Hongik University, she founded Mono Collection in 1985. And for the past 25 years, she has been active as a textile designer, while steadily burnishing her artistic reputation at home and abroad.

Delicate Interior Styling Chang Eung-bok’s fabrics have a noticeable handicraft character. Her designs are inspired by traditional Korean motifs, such as flower-patterned shoes, folding fans, still-life paintings, rice cake molds, tassel ornaments, and rubber shoes, yet they have a modern look. The fabrics are invariably of the highest quality and are thus often used as decorative interior elements.

As for her “soft interior styling,” Chang explains: “I make fabrics, but I also use the fabrics to create furniture or to style interiors. My ‘soft interior styling’ is just that: soft and variable, so that customers can fashion spaces to their own liking. To put it another way, though it may be a problem for those who value privacy, I design spaces that are organic and encourage interaction.”

Chang recently moved her workshop to Gwacheon, near Seoul. The vast, open space is a representation of her soft interior styling, featuring sliding-door partitions draped with various fabrics from her Mono Collection. Another advantage of fabric is that it is reusable and easy to work with. The versatility of soft interior styling allows you to create entirely new spaces with only a few pieces of fabric, without spending much money or having to tear down walls. Partitions, lights, furniture, and curtains are just a few of the elements for which fabrics can be utilized to full advantage.

Chang Eung-bok Adopts Folk Motifs for Interior Styling Chang Eung-bok is a world-class textile designer who reinterprets Korean aesthetic sensibilities through a modern sense of style. She works with a wide variety of fabrics, while crossing the boundary between furniture and interior design, and is now striving to take her “soft interior styling” to a new level.

Jeon Eun-kyung Editor-in-chief, Monthly Design | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Textile designer Chang Eung-bok, standing next to a sliding partition covered with fabric bearing a motif of flower-patterned shoes.

The patterns she designs are used in a variety of products, from underwear to furniture.

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Motifs from Traditional Paintings “I believe that Korean, Chinese, and Japanese sentiments differ in terms of the way they express an appreciation for nature,” Chang says.

“While the Japanese seek to create a miniature representation of nature in their gardens, the Chinese favor the largest and most elaborate gardens. Koreans, however, find a site with a beautiful view and build a pavilion there to enjoy the natural scenery.”

Just as her ancestors “borrowed the scenery” as a backdrop, Chang adopts traditional images that are uniquely Korean and incorporates the themes into her designs. “I am inspired by a great many things, but many of my works to date have borrowed motifs from Korean folk paintings. I have taken ideas from a number of everyday Korean items, such as flower-patterned shoes, folding fans, and dining tables, and I also adopt proven motifs. I focus on designs that offer modern reinterpretations of the unique beauty of Korea, without straying far beyond traditional boundaries,” she says.

Chang was raised in a traditional Korean house in the neighborhood of Jeongneung, where the native characteristics of Korea are still evident. “People call my designs ‘very Korean,’ and I think that is due in no small part to the environment in which I grew up. My grandfather, who gave me my name, was a scholar of the Chinese classics, and we regularly performed ancestral rites at home. I lived a simple life with my father, who was a civil servant, and my mother, who was skilled with her hands. I grew up in a very traditional environment, but at the time I didn’t know how to appreciate it,” she recalls.

Her neighborhood and environment must have been a kind of reallife antique. She even remembers a passing antique dealer knocking on their door because he wanted to buy the old earthenware platters that he noticed in the backyard. In the 1960s and 70s, when the age of plastic

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Chang enjoys the process of creating new moods in interior design or clothing with her patterns. Below is a partition based on a painting of Mt. Kumgang (Diamond Mountains) by Jeong Seon, a Joseon master of landscape painting.

“I have borrowed many motifs from Korean folk paintings. I have taken ideas from a number of everyday Korean items, such as flower-patterned shoes, folding fans, and dining tables.”

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arrived, there was not a single plastic item in her house. Looking back, her environment provided her with unique experiences, but she didn't realize this, and she later left this environment behind to travel around the world.

Experiencing the World “I spent my thirties and forties on the road, traveling the world. At one time I pursued ‘Orientalism for export,’ while reviving Korean traditions as a way to make ends meet. But now I’m free from that pressure,” Chang says. After 25 years as a designer, she no longer needs to rely on the adjective “Korean” to describe her work, since she has developed a true style of her own.

The Mono Collection has achieved impressive results at exhibitions around the world, as well as at the Seoul Living Design Fair, the largest design event in Korea. This all began in 1994, with the Japan Heimtex in Tokyo. Then, in 2000, her collection received favorable reviews at Heimtextil in Frankfurt, Germany. It was also shown at the “Elegance of Silence” exhibit at the Mori Art Museum in Japan in 2005, while the Mono Collection fabrics and related products were first exported to Roche Bobois in France in 2007.

Recently, Chang launched the home interior brand Bogg as part of her efforts to promote high-quality design. A line of bedding items, which retains the elegance of her designs but is mass-produced, comprises the first products of this brand that has been well received by consumers.

Nowadays, Chang has a new concern: how to work in today’s digital and analog era as a designer from the age of pen and paper. “In the past I wore myself out taking photos and sketching patterns. If the process is automated and becomes too easy, won’t it lose some of its appeal?” she wonders.

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Chang says that the power of soft interior styling is the ability to create new spaces with just a few pieces of fabric or accessories.

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Pottery

Handicrafts and Design

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hat sort of dinnerware do you use regularly? Even the simplest meal can become a feast if served with the right dishes. In this regard, the English art critic Herbert Read has noted that the creativity of a people can be assessed by looking at the ceramics they use in their everyday lives.

Korea has long been known for its ceramics tradition, especially its Goryeo celadon ware and Joseon white porcelain. In modern times, however, Korea’s ceramics culture has regressed and now pales in comparison to its former glory. Throughout the Japanese colonial period and the industrialization era of the 1960s and the 1970s, Korea’s precious cultural heritage had largely been neglected. And, despite the ceramics industry’s well-established infrastructure, efforts were focused mainly on the preservation of tradition. There seemed to be no place for ceramics in the hectic lifestyles of modern Koreans. Yi Yoon-shin was grieved at this state of affairs. So she made a resolution: “The dishes I make will be used on the dinner table.”

Everyday Ceramics for Modern Lifestyle Yi belongs to the first generation of Korean potters who are dedicated to making what is known as “everyday ceramics.” She received her undergraduate and graduate degrees in fine arts from Hongik University, and also studied pottery at the graduate school of Kyoto City University of Arts in Japan. When she embarked on her career as a ceramic artist some 25 years ago, “beautiful dishes” were not for regular usage but items to be displayed and admired. But while studying in Japan, where ceramic wares are widely used in everyday life, she felt a sense of remorse and envy, which motivated her to create not works of ceramic art but dinnerware that would be naturally found on the dining table. Based on this approach, Yi placed a priority on practicality as well as a need to design ceramic wares that suited the times.

“When you consider the spirit and culture of the Goryeo and Joseon periods, it becomes quite apparent that celadon and white porcelain were inevitable outcomes of their eras. Similarly, I believe a certain type of ceramics will eventually emerge from modern Korea in the 21st century. Celadon and white porcelain are, of course, exceptionally beautiful, but they have no practical value in our present situation,” says Yi. In order to produce ceramics better suited to contemporary society, Yi prefers electric and gas kilns over the traditional wood-fired kiln. She believes it is more important to focus on the making of simple yet elegant dinnerware, which is consistent with modern ways, than to insist on traditional processes.

“With ceramics as art works, it can take months to make even a single piece and all effort is focused on the production process, but everyday ceramics are created with commercial

Yi Yoon-shin says that the person who uses the dish gives it its value.

Yi Yoon-shin Promotes Everyday Dinnerware According to potter Yi Yoon-shin, ceramic dinnerware belongs on the dining table, not in a display case. In 2010, she opened Yido Pottery, a multipurpose cultural space in Bukchon, Seoul, where she strives to promote the attractiveness of Korean dinnerware and to advocate a new cultural lifestyle.

Jeon Eun-kyung Editor-in-chief, Monthly Design | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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production in mind, so many things need “The more precious a dish, the more it should be taken out and to be considered, even after the dishes are made,” Yi explains. “My goal is to increase used, thereby enhancing its value. The function and beauty of the the number of people who use ceramic dish itself is important, but even more meaningful is the discernment dishes regularly, and in order to achieve this, it is necessary to be able to mass proof the individual who selects and uses it.” duce, so I need to share my production secrets with my staff.”

Of course, this “mass production” does not mean full automation. Much of the work still needs to be done by hand, so only 100-200 pieces can be produced at a time, about the same volume that could be handled in the old days at the large-size kilns. This adaptation helps to preserve the sense of traditional Korean ceramics and yet allows the production of practical dinnerware. In line with this principle, Yi’s workshop was originally named with the Chinese characters that literally mean “Yi’s pottery” (李陶); however, in 2006, the name was changed to the English rendering, Yido, in anticipation of expanding the everyday ware to the international market.

Dinnerware Complements the Food While Korean-style ceramics have not necessarily been compatible with international tastes, Yido dishes are ideally suited for Korean cuisine as well as the Japanese and Western dining table. At hotels and Western restaurants, Yido dinnerware is used to serve pasta, salad, and dessert. Yi’s dishes are traditional and yet have an informal, modern look, making them perfect for any kind of food and occasion. Another advantage is that you can easily combine pieces from different sets without creating a mismatch. With the absence of contrived beauty, the dishes also convey a sense of well-being. Although they have no fancy decoration or patterns, and are not as colorful as the finely finished ceramics of Japan or Europe, Yido din-

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nerware can complement whatever food you might serve with them.

When making her ceramics, Yi always considers how they will be used to serve food, because her dishes are meant to be used rather than put on display. Since the dinnerware’s value and beauty are optimized when used to serve food, it is only natural that their owners should want to use them as often as possible. Yido dinnerware is highly praised, particularly in Europe. To highlight the Visit Korea Year (2010-2012) campaign, “The Kimchi Chronicles” documentary series was recently aired by PBS in the U.S. While centering on the commentary of Korean cuisine by the renowned New York chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten and his wife, Marja, who is half-Korean, the series also featured Yido dinnerware for the table settings.

Yi advises people not to leave dishes in the cupboard just because they were made by a well-known artisan, but to regularly use them. She herself uses not only her own dishes but also those made by highly regarded artisans. “The more precious a dish, the more it should be taken out and used, thereby enhancing its value,” she says. “The function and beauty of the dish itself is important, but more meaningful is the discernment of the individual who selects and uses it. In the end, the value of a dish can only be appreciated by its use. Use your dishes and see for yourself.”

Out of this desire to bring everyday ceramics to ever more people, Yi has joined hands with the monthly lifestyle magazine Happy House (Haengbok-i gadeukhan jip ) to promote a monthly “Dish Drive,” which gives readers a chance to replace the dishes in their cupboards.

She also conducts an annual “10,000 Won Happy Exhibit,” when dishes are offered for sale at the price of just 10,000 won.

For Serving Panini or Bibimbap After several years of planning and preparation, Yi finally opened Yido Pottery, a multipurpose cultural space where she strives to promote the attractiveness of Korean dinnerware and the true value of handcrafted goods, and to advocate a new cultural lifestyle. It is housed in a modern building at the end of a lane in Gahoe-dong, an area that retains Korea’s traditional character. Yido Pottery displays a variety of ceramics that can be used in everyday life, from tea cups to rice bowls, larger bowls, plates, and even large crocks, as well as the works of esteemed Korean potters, which are all available for sale. Yido Academy offers classes in table setting, food styling, and pottery making.

The recently published Korea edition of the Michelin Guide (May 2011) included information about Yido Pottery, alongside 23 popular sightseeing destinations like Gyeongbok Palace, Bukchon, Hanok Village in Jeonju, and Hwaseong Fortress in Suwon, in the section on restaurants and cafes recommended for tourists. The restaurant on the second floor, Il Cipriani, uses Yido dishes to serve its panini sandwiches and coffee.

Yido is the fruit of Yi’s lifelong endeavors to bring everyday ceramics to the consumers in Korea and beyond. Yi says that you can tell a lot about a person by the dishes they use, while her dinnerware items and this cultural space say a lot about her.

“If I had to do it all over again, I would still be a potter. And I think I would do better the next time around,” Yi notes. Her dream is to build Yido into a premier brand that can continue to grow even without her presence. She predicts that the market for Yido products will eventually expand well beyond Korea, by appealing to the younger generation of potential customers.

Interest in Korea’s popular culture and Korean cuisine, such as the rice liquor makgeolli, bibimbap, and bulgogi, is steadily growing in France and elsewhere. Yi firmly believes that in order for the story of Korea’s “slow food” to be shared properly with the world, the spirit behind the food must be conveyed by the Korean dishes as well, just as Japanese cuisine is a perfect match for Japan-made ceramics. Thanks to the efforts of Yi Yoon-shin, the day is fast approaching when we will see Korean cuisine being served in stylish Korean dinnerware, both at home and abroad.

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Yido Pottery, located in the basement of the multipurpose cultural space Yido in Gahoedong, Jongno-gu (left). Yido dishes are suited to both Asian and Western cuisine.

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Lacquer Painting

Handicrafts and Design

Jun Yong-bok Extends the Boundaries of Traditional Art Jun Yong-bok’s art is rooted in traditional Korean lacquer art, but his stylistic features include the influences of Japanese lacquer art as well as his own ingenious techniques. Jun has thus broadened the horizons of his unique craft.

Park Hyun-sook Freelance Writer | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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n early April, the exhibition of a natural lacquer artist held at the National Art Museum of China attracted an unusual amount of attention. With the exhibition entitled “The Everlasting Lacquer Painting,” Korean lacquer artist Jun Yong-bok made a featured appearance at the Chinese national art museum, which exhibits, collects, and studies predominantly Chinese artworks from the ancient to the modern eras. And although it rarely exhibits the works of foreign artists, Jun’s exhibition attracted over 25,000 visitors during its 10-day run.

Jun Yong-bok began to make a name for himself in the art world when 2 he took on the restoration of Meguro Gajoen, a huge banquet hall in Tokyo, built in the early 1930s. The project involved the restoration of large lacquer paintings on the walls and another 5,000 lacquer ware items. One of the paintings, “Landscape of the Four Seasons” (26.3m×1.4m), exhibits the entire array of traditional lacquer painting techniques of Korean and Japanese origins.

Diverse Applications of Lacquer Art Lacquer paintings are created with the sap extracted from lacquer trees, which is filtered to eliminate impurities. The creation of a lacquer painting requires more than 30 processes that must be fastidiously undertaken over a six-month period. In addition, the drying process is highly sensitive to temperature and humidity, making it extremely difficult to produce lacquer works on any kind of grand scale. Nevertheless, Jun’s recent exhibition in China featured over 50 large-scale works, including “Homecoming” (5.6m×1.8m), depicting a scene of salmon struggling upstream to return to the place of their birth. Also on display were wardrobes, stationery chests, and dressing tables decorated with lacquer paintings of traditional Korean landscapes. There were also wristwatches with lacquer-painted faces, as well as musical instruments, like a cello, violin, and guitar, with a lacquer finish.

Jun states that the qualities unique to natural lacquer have encouraged him to continuously attempt to transcend the two dimensions of the canvas. “Natural lacquer possesses distinctive aesthetic qualities that cannot be found in other types of paint: its luminous hue, decorative quality, and moldable texture,” he explains. “Lacquer also allows for a wide variety of expressive techniques. Moreover, the durability of lacquer-coated artifacts is evident from the fact that various excavated lacquer relics have survived for more than 10,000 years. A lacquer coating will absorb toxic elements from concrete buildings, block electromagnetic waves from computers, and emit far-infrared rays, which are beneficial for people. Lacquer is said to create gi (energy), as Koreans would call it, which is a life force or source of vitality.”

Until he managed to create his original lacquer art techniques, Jun had experienced repeated failure. To apply lacquer paint to a metal panel rather than the usual wooden articles, he repeatedly experimented with an array of tools and implements. Finally, he succeeded in developing a high-temperature hardening method that enabled him to apply lacquer paint to elevator panels and watch dials.

1. “Melody in Spring,” lacquer painting on woodblock, 80×60cm, 2007.

2. Jun Yong-bok’s exhibition at the Lacquer Art Museum in Iwate Prefecture, Japan.

3. Modern-style chest employing techniques of traditional Korean lacquer art.

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Jun Yong-bok with a lacquer-painted wardrobe. Below are two examples of his lacquered bridal chests.

The technique of sprinkling gold or silver dust over a lacquer finish by blowing it through a straw, known as kuchibuki makie in Japanese, is also one of Jun’s innovations. It came about when Jun was practicing the traditional Japanese technique of makie , which involves sprinkling gold or silver dust over lacquer by delicately tapping a bamboo tube filled with the dust.

After countless disappointments in controlling the tapping so as to produce an even dispersal, Jun let out a long sigh of exasperation. To his amazement, this spread the gold dust evenly over the lacquered surface, creating the desired effect. Although mainly by accident, this success can be attributed to Jun’s relentless dedication.

Currently, Jun operates his own lacquer art studio, where he works on innovative techniques with a variety of laser and computer-aided equipment. He is also committed to training young lacquer artists at his academy.

Enchantment of Lacquer Painting “I’ve never received formal art education. Since my family was so poor, I barely finished high school and had to support my family, working as a fruit vendor, construction worker, and

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Jun’s lacquer paintings are rendered on various surfaces, including a dining table and a guitar.

other odd jobs. Later, when I found out about lacquer art, I sought out masters in the field to learn from them and I also worked hard to develop creative techniques,” Jun said. “Although my youth was full of hardship, I was consoled by the beauty in everything I saw. When I was, say, taking a brief rest on the construction site with my shovel stuck in the ground, I was fascinated by how a crack in the earth was formed by the shovel. Late at night, when I would return home utterly exhausted after the day’s hard work, the moonlight shimmering through the bamboo grove and the gentle touch of the night breeze was enough to revive me.”

As a boy, Jun dreamed of becoming an artist. Often he would collect all sorts of rubbish, such as shards of pottery, twigs, and even the straw ropes that had been hung across his neighbors’ gates (to mark the birth of a baby) to create a kind of structure, which he claimed to be an artwork. He was also inspired by his two maternal uncles, both of whom were artists, one of Western painting and the other of Asian painting. However, poverty kept him from pursuing his dream. Eventually, he went to work for a furniture manufacturer, where his artistic talent was rewarded with a handsome salary and speedy promotions. When he had secured a certain level of financial stability, he was able to turn his attention back to his childhood dream.

Along with being his livelihood, the furniture-making work provided him with the chance to learn about various coating materials and to discover the charms of natural lacquer. It seems that Jun was destined to become an artist, of lacquer painting, after all. In one of his works, he applied multiple layers of lacquer to a traditional wardrobe and decorated the front with a lacquer painting recreation of a landscape scene by the painter Kim Eun-ho. He depicted the mountain ranges with slivers of abalone shell inlaid at even intervals, a basic technique of traditional Korean lacquer ware inlaid with mother-ofpearl.

In his lacquer paintings, Jun will often apply a traditional brush painting technique, called the ax-cut texture stroke (bubyeokjun ), which is used to create a rugged texture with repeated ink marks that look as if they had been made with an ax. Likewise, he endeavored to create new effects by K o r e a n a ı A u t u mn 2 011

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Jun seeks to express the vitality and beauty of nature. Moreover, he has found lacquer to be the optimal medium for this pursuit.

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adopting mother-of-pearl inlay and brush painting techniques. As a result, he established an original style of his own in the world of lacquer painting.

Global Touring Exhibition In 1986, some 10 years after his introduction to lacquer, Jun received the Grand Prize at the Korea Contemporary Arts and Crafts Contest for a work that featured the traditional technique of applying lacquer to earthenware. Two years later, while he was living in Japan, he was awarded the Special Prize at the Iwate Prefecture Arts and Crafts Contest. At the contest in Korea, Jun expressed his artistic creativity through traditional techniques, while in Japan, he displayed his innovative methods by using Styrofoam and dry lacquer.

“I was idly looking at a bulb of garlic I had brought from home [Korea] when I could see the image of a woman’s naked body on its surface. I exclaimed, ‘That’s it!’ and then set out to create a work that would express Korean sensibilities with lines and shapes that reflect the Asian aesthetics,” he says. “First, I sculpted a mold with Styrofoam, depicting the elegant outline of the garlic bulb, then attached hemp fabric to the surface and applied a layer of lacquer mixed with red clay. After loosening the weave of the hemp cloth to exaggerate its texture, I applied alternating layers of hemp fabric and lacquer coating. After the coating was completely dry, the mold was melted and removed, resulting in a novel lacquer ware work in the shape of a porcelain pot. I named it ‘Desire,’ an emotion that I feel is the beginning of a grudge, or regret, or sorrow, or a mixture of all these sentiments, like what Koreans call han .”

Jun is now preparing for a global touring exhibition of his lacquer artworks that is slated to get underway in the fall of 2012.

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1. A wardrobe with doors adorned with a painting of Mount Kumgang at sunrise.

2. Lacquer paintings on woodblocks.

3. A ceramic pot coated with lacquer.

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Metal craft

Handicrafts and Design

Yu Kuk-il Designs Metal Speakers for the Pure Sounds of Nature Speaker designer Yu Kuk-il makes extensive use of metal because of its ability to transmit the original sound almost perfectly.

His speakers have gained worldwide recognition for their optimal delivery of sound and stylish design.

Kim Young-woo Staff Reporter, Monthly Design | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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1. “Swan,” which received the Red Dot Award 2010, took Yu four years to make.

2. Speaker designer Yu Kuk-il at his studio.

3. As seen in “Moon III,” Yu seeks the best sound along with aesthetic beauty, making use of holes and small details.

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u Kuk-il majored in metal art and design at college. But from his early childhood, he had acquired a love for music. In 1992, Yu was able to work on both areas when he started to design metal speakers. Then, in 1998, he founded Metal Sound Design, which led him to enter into a technical partnership in 2004 with Accuton, a German maker of the world’s most advanced driver units, for the production of world-class, high-end speakers. His speakers are highly appraised for the way their stylish form integrates the technology for delivering an authentic sound, by taking advantage of the metal’s properties. His speakers have earned three Innovations Awards at the Consumer Electronics Show (CES), the world’s largest electronics trade fair.

Why Metal?

The name of his company, Metal Sound Design (MSD), aptly describes the focus of Yu’s work. That is, he designs sound speakers made with metal. As an audio engineer, he seeks to design the form of speakers with metal elements that can deliver the most original sound.

Except for the diaphragm unit and circuitry, the entire speaker, including internal components, is made of metal. Although heavier and more rigid, metal speakers produce a clearer and purer sound with less distortion than do wooden speakers, because they cause less vibration. This is what attracted Yu to the use of metal.

On the other hand, metal is a finicky material, difficult to process, and even a minor flaw will render the unit worthless. The best-known speaker makers in the world rarely produce metal speakers because of the added cost and effort required. Yet, Yu has spent nearly 20 years making metal speakers, which are now known the world over for their excellence in sound technology and handsome appearance.

“Designers have to know exactly what materials they are dealing with, and also need a thorough understanding of the entire production process. You have to look at the big picture while considering every detail, including how to connect the surfaces during the assembly process, what the speaker would feel like when being used, and an image of the finished product,” Yu explains. “I believe good results depend on a harmony between the characteristics of the materials and the overall design.”

Among the various types of metal, Yu is especially fond of duralumin, which is used to K o r e a n a ı A u t u mn 2 011

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The curved lines of the speakers are so graceful you might not believe that they are made with metal, which reflects Yu’s unique talent to craft natural forms. Moreover, this elegant appearance actually serves to enhance the sound’s purity.

make airplanes. After trying a variety of metals, such as bronze, cast iron, and stainless steel, he found that duralumin was the most suitable for speakers because of its light weight and durability, which reduces vibration and is also easier to handle. The curved lines of the speakers are so graceful that you might not believe they are made with metal, which reflects Yu’s unique talent to craft natural forms. Moreover, this elegant appearance actually serves to enhance the sound’s purity.

Matching the Visible and the Invisible “What you see is important, but I think the unseen factors are equally important. So I always seek to match the visible and invisible factors,” Yu notes.

This means that first, Yu uses metals for the internal elements, which are unseen, and second, he “designs” for the invisible sounds. This is possible because of his keen sense of hearing and ability to do the tuning himself. As a speaker designer, rather than simply creating an attractive appearance, he first seeks the form that is most ideal for producing the perfect sound, which is then made into an object with an appealing look.

A good example of this is the “Rhea W” series, with an appearance that resembles the curved contour lines of a map. Designed so that the wavelength curve is lower as the unit emits sound, to reduce distortion caused by sound reflection, the speaker is a representation of a starry sky. Based on the principle that a lower wavelength can produce a clearer sound, this model received the CES Innovations Award in 2009.

Earlier, the “Moon II” speaker earned Yu his first CES Innovations Award in 2005. For this speaker, which suggests a scene of the moon orbiting the earth, he improved the upper register sound by installing two cylindrical enclosures that function as speaker barrels. The holes around the unit, which reduce the sound distortion, are meant to represent the Milky Way. Meanwhile, the “Planet” speaker, the first model under his part-

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1. “Lyra” with super-tweeter (for high sounds) 2-3. In “Planet,” mid-high note sounding tweeters (at the top) rotate back and forth and from side to side to find the right spot to produce the best sound.

4. The recent work “Yeon” represents ripples in a pond in the shape of a lotus leaf. This was designed as a built-in speaker for the ceiling of a traditional Korean house.

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nership with Accuton, resembles the planet Mars in orbit. The tweeters, which produce highmiddle audio frequencies, rotate in all directions in order to produce the optimal sound. This model, which received the CES Innovations Award in 2006, is another example of Yu’s efforts to “combine the visible and the invisible.”

Inspiration from the Night Sky For his speaker designs, Yu finds inspiration in nature. Since 2001, the basic theme of his speakers has been the night sky and all his speaker models have been named after stars and heavenly bodies. For Yu, anything in nature can be the start of a design. “I think it’s important for a designer to appreciate everything around him. A feeling brings up an image and an image leads to a design,” he says.

Yu will spend as much time as necessary on each project. “The Swan,” which in 2010 received a Red Dot Award, one of the world’s most prestigious design awards, required four years of work. Yu insists on his designs being just right, needing nothing more or nothing less, regardless of how many years it might take.

“If you take a beautifully hued Goryeo celadon bowl overseas, it will take on a different appearance because of such factors as the intensity of the light and the tone of its surroundings abroad. The same is true for the stars in the sky. In the desert, the stars have a reddish tint, but at sea they look blue. Everything reflects its particular environment,” Yu says. On that point, he explains that he seeks to express his feelings derived from nature, and has never consciously sought to convey the so-called “Korean-style beauty.”

MSD’s speakers include driver units made by Accuton and network circuits made by Mundorf, two German manufacturers known to be the world’s No. 1 makers of audio components.

When Yu visited Mundorf in 2008, they said to him: “Thank you for using our parts in your beautiful speakers.” Accuton, the world’s leading manufacturer of speaker driver units, which are supplied to 34 countries, lists Metal Sound Design among its 14 major clients on its website.

While the world has come to highly acclaim his works, Yu says he most wants to create designs that satisfy his own expectations, rather than seeking to gain recognition from others. “I believe the designer is the one who best understands his own works. I’m just doing the work that I love for my own sake, not for anybody else,” he says.

1. The pedestal of “Moon III”

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2. “Rhea W,” which received CES Innovations Award in 2009.

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Focus 1

Exploring the Future of Korean Studies Worldwide The 2011 Korea Foundation Assembly was held July 7-9 at the Lotte Hotel in Seoul with the participation of some 200 Korean studies scholars, including 86 from overseas. Under the theme “New Approaches to Korean Studies: Understanding Korea in the Global Context,� the conference explored the ways to develop Korean studies abroad, in the six areas of language, humanities, social sciences, theories and policies, instructional methodology, and Korean studies centers.

Huh Jin-suk Staff Reporter, The Dong-a Ilbo

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he Korea Foundation, to commemorate its 20th anniversary this year, hosted for the first time a large-scale international conference that gathered together a large number of Korean studies scholars and directors of Korean studies centers worldwide. Just like an individual who reaches the age of 20 years and makes plans for the future, the Foundation organized the conference to discuss proposals for further advancing Korean studies in the global community in the years ahead.

Over the past two decades, a total of 100 Korean studies professorships have been established at 69 institutions in 12 countries with the Foundation’s program assistance. In addition, some 40 Korean studies centers are now being operated in 13 countries. The number of students enrolled in Korea-related courses supported by the Foundation amounted to some 9,000 as of 2010. The average number of students per class exceeded 20, the minimum number required for a regular course.

‘Embrace North Korean Studies’ During the conference, several suggestions were offered for the continued development of Korean studies. Various participants called for expanding Korean studies as part of applied social sciences research, while going beyond the boundaries of traditional academic disciplines, such as philosophy, religion, ideology, and history. Others stressed the need to include North Korean studies in the category of K o r e a n a ı A u t u mm 2 0 1 1

Korean studies.

In particular, leading experts on Korea’s economic development are not counted as Korean studies scholars under the traditional classification system and, therefore, are not entitled to program support, lamented John Lie, a professor at the University of California, Berkeley. To ensure the sustainability of Korean studies, he reiterated the importance of ultimately maintaining a viable intellectual system. He also advised that Korea would do well to avoid repeating the mistake of Japan, which provided support for Japanese studies, but not to scholars who were critical of Japan.

A scholar in the audience then emphasized the importance of expanding Korean studies from “a consumer’s perspective.” He noted that one of the reasons that many foreigners take an interest in Korean studies is because they need Korea-related information for their business, which means that business management needs to be included in Korean studies. Likewise, research on Korean culture should also be expanded to practical disciplines, like “Korean culture for business purposes.”

In a separate interview, Cho Sung-taek, a professor of philosophy at Korea University, observed: “There’s a rising need to expand support to all disciplines, including political science, social studies, and economics, beyond the traditional boundaries of the humanities, such as history, culture, and arts, in consideration of Korea’s economic growth and the influence of hallyu .” Professor Cho is pres-

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“In the past, foreigners were mainly interested in the unique security situation of Korea and its rapid economic growth. But recently, hallyu , or the popularity of Korean pop culture overseas, has emerged as a factor that makes them look at Korea in a new way.

Therein lies the need to support hallyu research.”

ently leading a research project on ways to promote Korean studies under the sponsorship of the Academy of Korean Studies. He continued: “We need to formulate a customized strategy to suit the specific characteristics of different regions, such as North America and Southeast Asia, considering that demand has notably diversified over the years.”

Nonetheless, various academics suggested that it is still necessary to intensify support for the traditional humanities disciplines.

They contended that “the horizons of Japanese and Chinese studies were broadened only after sufficient support had been provided to traditional humanities disciplines.”

‘Hallyu as a Serious Field of Study’ Hallyu, or the spread of Korea’s popular culture abroad, which is also known as the Korean Wave, was a subject of considerable discussion. During a joint press conference, on July 7, foreign academics introduced a series of hallyu-related anecdotes about their students and called for support to encourage academic research in this noteworthy phenomenon.

Professor Antonio Fiori, of the University of Bologna in Italy, said that many Italian students, who would never have known about Korea if not for K-pop, are now attending Korean language classes.

Professor Niu Linjie of Shandong University, which maintains the largest Korean studies department in China, noted: “In the past, many students entered the department hoping to find work at a Korean firm after graduation. But now more than half of about 150 freshmen say they decided to study about Korea because they liked Korean music and TV dramas.” Also, Professor Vyjayanti Raghvan, of Jawaharlal Nehru University in India, mentioned that Indian society has been widely influenced not only by Korean pop culture but also its business culture, thanks to Hyundai Motor Co. In a survey of 20 overseas Korean studies scholars conducted by The Dong-a Ilbo during the conference, 80 percent of the respondents expected the recent hallyu boom, centered on K-pop, to have a positive effect on efforts to promote Korea around the world.

Professor Victor Cha, a Korean-American expert on Korean affairs at Georgetown University, and Professor David Kang at the University of Southern California emphasized the need to consider hallyu as a serious field of study. Professor Cha said that in the past foreigners were mainly interested in Korea’s unique security situa-

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tion and rapid economic growth, but that hallyu has now emerged as a factor that makes them see Korea in a new way. Either the Korean government or the Korea Foundation should support research of hallyu, he added. Professor Kang stressed that hallyu, which is spreading regardless of the different cultural mechanisms around the world, is definitely a subject for academic research.

Policy Suggestions The conference comprised six panel sessions devoted to the Korean language, humanities, social sciences, Korean studies centers, theories and policies, and instructional methodology. On July 9, to wrap up the proceedings, the participants adopted policy suggestions for the Korea Foundation’s consideration to further promote Korean studies abroad.

First, in regard to Korean language education, they stressed the need to develop more instructional materials for heritage learners and to recruit more educators who can teach Korean as a foreign language. For the humanities disciplines, they pointed out a preponderance of research on modern Korea and asked for support to be stepped up for research on pre-modern Korea.

It was also recommended that support programs be strengthened for Korean studies related to the social sciences, since the emphasis of Korean studies in North America and Europe has recently shifted from the humanities to the contemporary society and politics of Korea.

As for enhancing governance capability and building a data network, they reiterated the importance of creating a Korean language database that would help to boost collaboration between Korean language educators and Korean studies scholars, organizing more seminars for overseas scholars, and encouraging their interaction.

It was also proposed that centers for the promotion of Korean studies should be established in regions other than North America, and that research on the Korean diaspora be expanded. Participants also called for support for additional Korean studies research centers, along with efforts to build a multipurpose database for access to video materials, syllabuses, audio files, theses, and documents that are necessary for Korea-related lectures and research. They also stressed the importance of building an interdisciplinary network between Korean studies scholars and researchers of other disciplines.

Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

Korean Studies Scholars from Around the World Get to Know Each Other Clark W. Sorensen Professor of International Studies, University of Washington, U.S.

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he first Korea Foundation Assembly was a significant gathering for nearly 100 academics from North and South America, Europe, Australia, Northeast and Southeast Asia, and, of course, Korea. Being a “second generation” North American Korea scholar — that is, one who learned about Korea from the first generation of scholars in America, who were capable of conducting research in Korean, and most of whom have since passed away — I have become somewhat to my surprise a “senior scholar” in Korean studies now, who is supposed to give advice to the third and fourth generations of scholars in the United States.

The good thing about being a senior scholar is that, having been around for a long time, I have met over the years most of the established scholars in Korean studies in my region. For this group, it was a pleasure to have the opportunity to meet to renew and deepen old ties, but the KF Assembly also gave me the opportunity to get to know some of the rising young blood in Korean studies, which was a real treat. Among other participants whom I had not known personally before the conference and whose work I am now familiar with, I was particularly pleased to meet one scholar whose article we are carrying in “Journal of Korean Studies,” published by my school.

As a senior scholar who studied with one of the founders of Korean studies in the U.S., James B. Palais, I recalled in my presentation the sad, but real, fact that Korean studies as an academic discipline in my country has appeared largely because of the expansion of U.S. power into the Asia-Pacific region. Compared to China and Japan, who have fired the American imagination for more than a century, Korea until recently has been a hard civilization to get Americans interested in. Luckily, the establishment of Korean studies in the United States — with no small help from the Korea Foundation — has provided studies that have gradually begun to interest the general public. Fortunately, Korea’s economic growth and the recent popularity of Korean TV dramas and other cultural products are fascinating the younger generation.

Things are looking up, but what I emphasized is what I see as the inevitable link between Korean studies and the American political arena. Korean studies emerged because the U.S. government needed Korean-speaking administrators and intelligence analysts after World War II, and yet some of these people became fascinated

by Korea and founded Korean studies in America. While I spotlighted the capacity of scholars to reflect on their work and strive to overcome the limitations of each preceding generation and the institu-

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tional structures within which they worked, I also want to mention critical political turns in the United States that have affected area studies, particularly the Red Scare of the late 1940s and early 1950s, and the critical scholarship that emerged in the late 1960s and early 1970s, which was at least partly in response to the Vietnam War. I had both expected and unexpected responses to my presentation. The former was that a few members of the audience, who had personally experienced the academic turns I was trying to describe, corrected some of my interpretations. This is something I had hoped would happen, and later I interviewed a couple of key scholars so that I would have more accurate information. As for unexpected reactions, younger American scholars who didn’t know the history of the field expressed gratitude that I had laid it out for them. This reaction was gratifying because I had not been sure that my paper would be so useful.

An even more unexpected response came from the European scholars — not simply to my paper but to a series of papers by American scholars about the nature of regional studies and the place of Korean studies within it. While we American scholars have focused on how American cultural politics might have affected Korean studies, several European scholars reminded us that while U.S. scholarship on Korea has a particular contour because of the political circumstances in which it has appeared in the U.S. and the political controversies that have periodically roiled U.S. academia, this history is specific to the United States.

Olchi! , as we might say in Korean. We in the United States tend to be the proverbial “frogs in the well” thinking that what happens in our academic battles is absolute and universal. Our Korean friends often partake in this tendency because of the influence of U.S. education in Korea, as well as the close Korean-American alliance which has affected U.S. and Korean academic politics in similar ways.

These colleagues of ours from Europe don’t share the political traumas of America’s recent past, and thus they are less inclined to take absolutist positions on the political nature of area studies based on the American example.

So this was the fun and substance of the KF Assembly for me. We know each other and admire each other’s work. And yet, until we all came together in a single conference and had to put down in paper our thoughts on Korean studies, we never knew that we didn’t agree on such important issues. I am grateful that we now know each other much better.

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Interview with KF Assembly Participant

Korea: A Highly Relevant Study Case of Asian International Relations Antonio Fiori Korea Foundation Endowment Chair and Professor of Political Science, University of Bologna, Italy

Q. What was the most significant aspect of the KF Assembly?

A. In the first place, it was a gathering of Korean studies special-

the European region and its future direction?

A. The tradition of Korean studies in Europe is very long and well-

ists from every corner of the world to talk about the future of Korean studies and to find better ways to improve this academic discipline.

I think that having such an occasion for dialogue with scholars from around the globe and exchanging ideas is the most profitable way to improve the future of Korean studies.

Q. How did you first become interested in Korean studies? Did you have any special motivation? What difficulties have you encountered as a Korean studies scholar, and what have been the most rewarding aspects?

A. I became interested in learning Korean when I discovered that its alphabet had no ideograms! Gradually, I became fascinated by the culture, society, history, and political development of Korea. I have never regretted the choice to focus my research on Korea, since I think that for a political scientist, Korea is a valuable source of inspiration. Sometimes other social scientists think that doing research on Korea is too limitative, but I am convinced that Korea is a highly interesting microcosm and a highly relevant study case for those interested in Asian international relations.

Q. How would you describe the current situation of Korean studies in Italy?

A. At the moment, the situation of Korean studies in Italy is satisfactory. Three major universities (L’Orientale in Napoli, La Sapienza in Rome, Ca’ Foscari in Venice) offer courses in Korean studies, mainly focusing on language and literature. At the University of Bologna, on the contrary, the professorship position sponsored by the Korea Foundation was created at the Faculty of Political Science, where I teach Korean politics and international relations. I teach both undergraduate (focusing on the political and social development of Korea since 1910) and graduate (focusing on the international relations of South Korea and inter-Korean relations) classes. Since the establishment of the position, in 2008, the number of students interested in Korean politics has rapidly grown and this popularity is witnessed by the constantly rising number of dissertations on Korea, written both by undergraduates and graduates. In the future, we aim to enlarge the Korean studies courses by establishing a professorship in Korean language, which would make the program more appealing to students and contribute to enhancing the prestige of our university.

Q. Describe the situation of Korean studies in Europe as a whole.

What do you expect in regard to the development of Korean studies in

established, and I personally think that the future of Korean studies in Europe will be positive, at least judging from the growing number of students interested in Korea and Korean studies in our continent.

However, in the near future, it is important to have more integration among European universities, and in this regard, the pathway of digitalization and networking should be developed: this would allow European universities to establish a sort of consortium that could be really useful in bringing scholars of different areas of Korean studies to universities where those areas are not covered. This will reduce costs. And, on top of that, I think that more European universities should activate Ph.D. programs in Korean studies in order to increase the number of young qualified scholars and to become more competitive.

Q. What are the most obviously lacking areas of Korean studies in Europe? What particular improvements are needed?

A. In the last few years, Korean studies in Europe has entered a phase of substantial consolidation in all universities where they are present. However, in the overall context of Asian studies, Korean studies must fiercely struggle to be on par with Chinese and Japanese studies, which have traditionally been more attractive to students, with substantial funding more easily available to them. I think that in order to improve the conditions of Korean studies in Europe it is fundamental to establish — and consolidate — more professorships with a focus on Korea. It would also be important to organize more public initiatives to make Korea better known to the general public. The role of the Korea Foundation is absolutely pivotal in the dissemination of Korean studies in Europe, as some countries, including mine, are currently going through relevant educational reforms to restructure the university system.

Q. In view of the growing popularity of K-pop in Europe, what would you suggest to the Korean government and academia to encourage more lasting interest in Korea among the young generation in Europe?

A. I am not a specialist of hallyu , although some of my students have become interested in Korean studies because of Korean films, TV dramas, K-pop, cartoons, and the like. As such, I personally think that the Korean Wave has been useful in attracting new students and has also increased general interest in Korea and Korean culture, so I welcome its growth and increasing popularity.

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Interview with KF Assembly Participant

Hallyu Crucial for Expanding Foreigners’ Overall Perceptions of Korea Carolina Mera Professor of Korean Studies, University of Buenos Aires, Argentina

Q. What motivated you to take up Korean studies and what areas have you been most interested in?

A. First of all, the presence of Korean immigrants in Argentina

piqued my interest. This theme has remained as my primary interest since 1991. Since then, I have also taken a keen interest in the historical and cultural aspects of modern and contemporary Korean society, such as families, religion, and political changes.

Q. We understand that the University of Buenos Aires is the only educational institution that maintains a Korean studies center in Latin America. How was it established, and what are its future plans?

A. The Korean studies program was started by the Gino Germani Institute of the School of Social Sciences at the University of Buenos Aires in 1995. It has since operated as a hub for research on the Korean immigrants to Argentina. As a result, the University of Buenos Aires Press published a book titled “Korean Migration in Buenos Aires” in 1997.

Since 1999, the institute has played a key role in conducting research on the identity of second-generation Korean immigrants in Argentina. In 2000, it organized a variety of events, including the exhibition, “35 Years of the Korean Community in Argentina.” In a session of the joint committee on the Argentina-China science and technology cooperation, held in Beijing on May 30, 2001, Professor Pedro Krotsch, then director of the institute, proposed the launch of the East Asian Studies Group (GEEA) to promote research on East Asian regional studies.

The GEEA I had organized as part of activities by the institute’s cultural division later turned into an interdisciplinary research group consisting of undergraduate and graduate students at our university.

The group carried out Korea-related research projects and hosted various conferences and seminars in the process of formulating research plans. The exchange of experience and knowledge between Korea and Argentina has become increasingly livelier, with the institute’s initiative of promoting Korean studies as momentum. At each opportunity, both sides have shown a keener interest and created more chances for cooperation in research on the humanities, sciences, and culture.

Under these circumstances, the Centro de Estudios Corea-Argentina (CECA), a research center for Korean studies at the University of Buenos Aires, was launched jointly by Dr. Choe Yang-boo, then Korean ambassador to Argentina, then Korea Foundation President Kwon In-hyuk, and then University of Buenos Aires Rector Guillermo Jaim K o r e a n a ı A u t u mm 2 0 1 1

Etcheverry.

Q. What is the current status of Korean studies in Latin America? How active is the exchange among Korean studies scholars in the region?

A. Korean studies is still at a nascent stage in Latin America. Despite the closer cooperation among scholars, it will take much time for Korean studies centers to take root over the mid and long term, considering the time needed to train a new generation of scholars. What is important for long-term sustainable growth is, above all, to promote Korea-related studies in regard to the social sciences, literature, arts, economics, linguistics, and political science. Korean studies will develop as a field of scientific and independent study, and achieve sustainable results, thanks to research conducted by young scholars in this field.

Q. How strong is the presence of hallyu in Argentina? What efforts do you think the Korean government or overseas Korean studies scholars should make so that the growing popularity of Korean pop culture can develop into a more extensive interest in Korea?

A. Foreigners’ perception of, and interest in, Korean pop culture makes up a large portion of their understanding of Korea. Many foreigners have now taken an interest in Korea. But the challenge is to turn this narrow interest in K-pop or soap operas into a deeper interest in Korea’s culture and history. I think hallyu is very important in expanding foreigners’ overall perceptions of Korea. But the atmosphere has not been ripe enough to establish a system for strengthening the connection between the serious fields of Korean studies and universities in Latin America.

Q. Which aspects of Korean culture do you believe appeal most to the Argentine people?

A. We can’t talk about Korean pop culture without mentioning taekwondo, and K-pop has attracted Argentines’ attention recently.

Among other things, films by famous Korean directors have also aroused keen interest in Argentina.

Q. What are your mid- and long-term plans for the development of Korean studies in Latin America?

A. We need to strengthen relations between Latin American universities and research institutes, and between Latin America and Korea overall. We need to encourage people so that they can publish more Korean books that have been translated into Spanish, and host Spanish-language seminars and conferences on Korea’s history, culture, society, and politics.

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Focus 2

Joseon Royal Books Return Home after 145 Years in France With the arrival of the final set on May 27, all 297 volumes of the royal protocols of the Joseon Dynasty which had been housed at the National Library of France in Paris have been returned home to Korea. The return of these royal books, which are of immense cultural and academic significance, has been heralded with a series of commemorative events.

Lee Kyong-hee Staff Reporter, The JoongAng Ilbo | Suh Heun-gang Photographer

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n 1782, during the sixth year of King Jeongjo’s reign, a remote branch of Gyujanggak, the royal library 1 and archives, was built on Ganghwa Island. It was named Oegyujanggak (literally “Outer Gyujanggak”), where over 5,000 volumes from the capital were relocated to the new archives. Among these materials were royal protocol volumes, detailed records of important state events. But in 1866 (third year of King Gojong), troops from a French naval vessel invaded Ganghwa Island and plundered about 340 volumes from the library’s collection, including 297 volumes of royal protocol. The remaining materials were set ablaze by the intruders.

The whereabouts of these palace documents had long remained unknown until the Korean bibliographer Dr. Park Byeong-seon, who was working as a librarian at the National Library of France (Bibliotheque nationale de France), discovered the books in the library and released a listing of the documents in 1975. “The Anthology of Great Buddhist Priests’ Zen Teachings” (Jikji simche yojeol, or Jikji simgyeong) was also discovered by Dr. Park in the same library.

This is the world’s earliest extant book printed with movable metal type, published in 1377 during the Goryeo Dynasty.

1. The front cover of “The Royal Protocol on the Conferment of Honor for Queen Jangnyeol” (Jangnyeol wanghu jonsung dogam uigwe , 1686).

The book records the process in which Queen Jangnyeol (1624-1688), King Injo’s second wife, was conferred with an honorable title. This copy, produced for the king’s perusal, has covers of green, cloud-patterned silk, and the title is written on a separate strip of silk sewn onto the cover.

Negotiations for Return Seoul National University, which has assumed maintenance of materials from the Gyujanggak royal archives, initiated efforts to retrieve the Joseon royal books from the French library in 1991. Thereafter, the Korean government forwarded an official request to the French government for their return in 1992. During the KoreaFrance summit in 1993, when France lobbied for the export of its TGV high-speed train technology to Korea, French President François Mitterrand returned “The Royal Protocol on the Relocation of Hwigyeongwon Tomb” (Hwigyeongwon wonso dogam uigwe ), one of the royal protocols of Joseon that had been taken to France in 1866, and made a promise to return the remainder.

This promise would not be fulfilled, however, due to opposition in France, including a protest lodged by the librarians of the National Library of France. Inter-governmental nego-

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2. A palanquin carrying the photographic replica of a royal protocol is followed by a grand procession of 500 marchers, including escort officials, a traditional military band, dancers, and cavalry soldiers.

3. The procession makes its way to the courtyard area of the main throne hall of Gyeongbok Palace.

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The royal protocols that have recently been returned are especially valuable because most of the materials are the highly elaborate originals prepared for the king.

In addition, about 30 volumes are the sole extant copies of the original documents.

1. An illustration from “The Royal Protocol on the Wedding of King Yeongjo and Queen Jeongsun� (Yeongjo jeongsun wanghu garye dogam uigwe , 1759). The painting depicts the procession of King Yeongjo personally going forth to receive his queen at his second wedding after the death of his first wife. In other protocols of royal weddings, the bride is typically received by an envoy, not by the king himself, but this painting is the first example showing the king’s sedan chair among the procession to receive the bride.

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2 2. “The Record of the Construction of Munhui Shrine” (Munhuimyo yeong­ geoncheong deungnok , 1789) is a copy of the official record of the royal event kept by a relevant government agency.

tiations also faltered, as talks for the books’ return, broken off several times, made little headway.

Finally, there was a breakthrough in 2010. During the G20 Seoul Summit, the presidents of the two countries agreed on the return of the books under a five-year renewable lease. While many Koreans were displeased with such a lease arrangement, the government asserted that this compromise was the most practical means of getting the books back to Korea, since a permanent return would only be possible if the French government agreed to amend its relevant laws. The National Library of France and the National Library of Korea signed a working-level agreement on the return process, and the books came home in four air deliveries, from April 14 to May 27.

Royal Protocols of the Joseon Dynasty Most of the books returned from France are royal protocols of the Joseon Dynasty, which are detailed records of important state or royal events that took place during the dynasty’s some 500 years of history, documented with handwritten text and painted illustrations.

The Korean word for the royal protocol, uigwe , is a compound of the characters ui , for “ceremony” and gwe for “exemplary standard.” Uigwe can thus be defined as the “exemplary standards for ceremonies,” or “white papers,” for a variety of significant events and ceremonies, which served as a valuable reference and model for future generations. These palace documents of the Joseon Dynasty have been inscribed on the UNESCO Memory of the World Register, as of 2007. Along with “The Annals of the Joseon Dynasty” (Joseon

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3 3. “The Royal Protocol on the Funeral of Grand Heir Uiso” (Uiso seson yejang dogam uigwe, 1752) documents the funeral of the eldest son of Crown Prince Sado. It contains minute details of the funeral, down to the size of each garment used in rites.

wangjo sillok ), another set of Joseon court records with the same UNESCO designation, the royal protocols are regarded as the epitome of Korea’s record-keeping culture. Compared with the annals of the Joseon Dynasty, a chronological record of major events during the reign of each king, which includes only text, the royal protocols provide a more vivid documentation of history with exquisitely rendered illustrations accompanying the written accounts.

In large part, the royal protocols followed the lives of the royal family. For instance, when a prince was born, a site was selected for the construction of his placenta chamber, where the placenta was stored as prescribed, with the entire process being recorded in the form of a royal protocol. The proclamation of a crown prince and related procedures were also documented as a separate royal protocol.

In the case of a royal wedding, the entire event was recorded in great detail, including the selection of the bride, the dowry listing, and the groom’s procession to welcome the bride. A royal protocol would be published upon the death of an important member of the royal family, such as the king, queen, crown prince or his spouse; the construction of royal tombs; and the enshrinement of a deceased king’s memorial tablet in the royal ancestral shrine, Jongmyo, following the three-year mourning period. In addition, the processes of palace or fortress construction or renovation, important royal banquets, publication of the annals of each king’s reign, and production of the kings’ portraits were all carefully documented.

The royal protocols of the Joseon Dynasty are noted for their rigorous attention to detail, which includes a list of people involved with each event, their personal profiles, the dimensions and materials of the items produced or used, as well as all expenditures, down to the smallest currency unit. For example, “The Royal Protocol on the Construction of Hwaseong Fortress” (Hwaseong seongyeok uigwe ) lists the names of over 1,800 artisans and workers who participated in the construction work, along with details of the wages paid to each

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1. An illustration from “The Royal Protocol on the Funeral of Queen Jangnyeol” (Jangnyeol wanghu gukjang dogam uigwe , 1688), which documents the funeral procession of Queen Jangnyeol, the second wife of King Injo. Screens are set up on both sides of the royal bier to hide it from view. The mourners marching behind the bier are also hidden by white curtains. In kings’ funerals, no screens or curtains were used.

2. The celebratory performance is underway in front of the main throne hall of Gyeongbok Palace.

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worker, according to the number of days worked, down to half a day.

The detailed accounting information in the royal protocols helped to prevent the waste or abuse of state funds by disclosing all the particulars of an undertaking.

The illustrations in the royal protocols were painted by the most talented artists of the Royal Bureau of Painting (Dohwaseo ). These works have such a high level of artistry and descriptive detail that the protocols are at times used today for a recreation of the documented events. For example, Hwaseong Fortress in Suwon, which suffered extensive damage during the Korean War, was eventually restored in 1975 based on the royal protocol written almost 200 years ago.

The inscription of Hwaseong Fortress as a UNESCO World Heritage site can in large part be attributed to the role of the royal documents, which served as an indispensable reference.

Academic Significance During the Joseon Dynasty, the royal protocol for each individual event was produced in multiple versions, including one for the king and additional copies that were stored in history archives and the various departments in charge of court rituals. The royal protocols that have recently been returned are especially valuable because most of the materials are the highly elaborate originals prepared for the king. In addition, about 30 volumes are the sole extant

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copies of the original documents.

The king’s version was produced with high-quality paper (chojuji ) and paint, and bound in silk covers with bronze clamps. On the contrary, copies for distribution to the relevant government offices and archives were made of coarser mulberry paper (jeojuji ) and bound in hemp covers with iron clamps. It is known that the books retrieved from France are of a superior quality as compared to the some 3,800 volumes of royal protocols housed at the Kyujanggak Institute for Korean Studies at Seoul National University and the Academy of Korean Studies.

Among the recently returned 297 volumes, about one-half are records of royal funerals, while the remainder includes accounts of royal weddings, various celebrations, investitures of crown princes, and construction or repair of palaces and fortresses. Shin Byeong-ju, history professor at Konkuk University, who has personally inspected the royal protocols from France on five occasions, has noted: “The banchado illustrations in the books were just perfect. The depiction of numerous figures, lined up in accordance with their official rank, was so detailed that even the strands of their beards could be made out.”

Except for the 30 volumes that are sole extant copies, other versions of the remaining volumes can be found in Korea. However, since all copies of a particular protocol were written and painted by hand, differences can be found in their covers, binding styles, and

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other minor details. Although the copies preserved in Korea include various omissions in the painted illustrations, the returned books have more detailed depictions since they were produced for the king, according to Professor Shin.

The 30 volumes that are the single existing copies had been digitally recorded in 2005, for the French and Korean governments.

Since there was no guarantee of the books’ return at that time, Korean scholars were eager to study the materials, even in electronic images. Now that the books are back home, they can be closely examined firsthand for subtle details, such as the quality of the paper, covers, and paint. “Naturally, the actual books provide more information than the photographed images. The royal protocols need to be studied from a more comprehensive perspective, taking note of factors aside from the content, such as the material and quality of the paper, descriptive styles, and paint,” said Professor Shin.

Overall, the returned royal protocols are of immeasurable academic value and will contribute much to academic research in history and bibliography, as well as Korean costume and art history.

Nearly all the books, excluding 12 volumes (seven titles), have had their covers repaired. It is presumed that the covers were damaged by fire or water, before or during their transport to France, and were later mended. Therefore, the 12 volumes preserved in their original form have an even greater significance as reference materials.

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Welcoming Events Aside from the initial volume returned in 1993, the Joseon royal protocols were transported to Korea in four sets. After a fierce competition between Asiana Airlines and Korean Air, the two airlines took turns flying the books home. Upon arrival, the books were immediately placed in storage at the National Museum of Korea in Seoul.

Events to celebrate the return of the royal protocols were held on Ganghwa Island and in Seoul on June 11. That morning, a procession of some 500 people, including island residents, made their way from the South Gate of Ganghwa Mountain Fortress to the original site of the Oegyujanggak archives. The procession reenactment was based on “The Daily Records of the Cabinet” (Naegak illyeok ), the journal housed at Gyujanggak, which recorded the relocation of the materials from Gyujanggak in Seoul to Oegyujanggak on Ganghwa Island in 1783. A solemn ancestral rite to announce the books’ return to the kings of Joseon was also held, along with related commemorative events.

The Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism has formed a research team of related scholars and specialists that plans to conduct an academic symposium in December 2012. By 2013, the royal protocols returned from France will be compiled into a digital database.

Electronic versions of the 30 volumes that are the sole extant copies will be made available online later this year.

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Art Review

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1. Buddha, Bodhisattva, and heavenly maids engraved on the east side of Sabangbul in Tapgol, an alpine valley on the slopes of Mt. Nam in Gyeongju, 1986.

2. Tombs of Nodong-dong, Gyeongju, 1984.

Landscapes of a Thousand Years Captured in the ‘Light of Time’ 2

Kang Woon-gu is a pioneer of the first-generation documentary photographers in Korea.

His exhibition “Vintage Landscapes” is the fruit of his decades-long exploration of Korea’s cultural archetypes, such as the myths of the Three Kingdoms period, royal tombs of the Silla Kingdom, and Buddhist artifacts.

Lee Moon-jae Poet and Professor, Department of Creative Writing, Kyung Hee Cyber University | Kang Woon-gu Photographer

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t might be an overstatement to refer to Busan as a city of photography. But in the photography circles of Korea, this was indeed the case from mid-April of this year.

Three Photography Exhibitions Along with being Korea’s second largest city and largest maritime port, Busan has come to be known as a “city of film” since the turn of the 21st century. For the past 16 years, it has hosted the Pusan International Film Festival (PIFF), which is today acclaimed as one of the world’s most dynamic film festivals. A photography exhibition, even a “retrospective” (though the photographer would deny this), does not attract the same kind of attention as a film festival, but Kang Woon-gu’s “Vintage Landscapes” exhibition was nevertheless worthy of notice. The exhibition venue, the new branch of the GoEun Museum of Photography, is also noteworthy, as only the second Korean museum specializing in photography outside of Seoul after the original GoEun Museum of Photography, which opened four years ago. Both are located in the Haeundae Beach area of Busan.

Coincidently, while Kang’s photos were being shown to Busan residents, two other photography exhibitions were also being presented in the city: Kwon Tae-gyun’s “Silent Stones” at the original GoEun Museum of Photography, and Suh Heun-gang’s “Garden of Gods” at the Toyota Art Space. Kwon and Suh are both established artists who belong to the so-called “Kang Woon-gu troop.” These two second-generation photographers, who have been influenced by Korea’s pioneer of documentary photographer, were showing their own works in the same city at the same time, and with a similar theme of traditional Korean culture. As such, from April through early July, Busan was indeed a city of photography.

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Scene with a Buddha carved on a cliff in Yaksu, an alpine valley on the slopes of Mt. Nam, Gyeongju, 1985.

Three Themes of History Kang Woon-gu’s “Vintage Landscapes” explores Korea’s cultural heritage through three historical themes. Ten years ago, he held an exhibition in Seoul, titled “Images of Three Villages,” featuring photos of three remote mountain communities, and also published a photography book of the same title. But the three pillars of his latest exhibition include the royal tombs of the Silla Kingdom, the various sites mentioned in the “Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms” (Samguk Yusa ), which records the myths and legends of the Three Kingdoms period, and the Buddhist relics from Silla. These three themes, which Kang has explored over the past 40 years, are representative icons of Korea’s traditional culture which have survived for more than a thousand years.

Samguk Yusa , which was compiled by the historian monk Ilyeon in 1281 during the Goryeo Dynasty, contains the legends, folktales, and myths about Korea, from the start of the mythological Dangun nation-founding era through the collapse of Unified Silla, of which the Silla period itself covers nearly one thousand years (57 B.C.-A.D. 935). While mostly rooted in myth, it mentions historical dates as well as actual sites that can still be visited today. Kang noted in the publication for this exhibition: “I learned that myths are not stories about

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heaven but about the earth, based on reality.”

While the exhibition featured 100 photos, most viewers seemed to linger around the images of Silla’s Buddhist artifacts on Mt. Nam, or Namsan. This mountain, just south of Gyeongju, might only stand about 471 meters in height, but temples, pagodas, and stone Buddhas can be found in every valley and on every ridge. Indeed, the mountain is a veritable open-air museum steeped in the resplendent ambience of Silla Buddhism. Kang has left no stone unturned on this mountain since the late 1970s, when he first combed through the mountain as an enthusiastic but inexperienced photographer. He ended up discarding all the photos he had taken over an entire year, which were supposed to be included in his first photography book.

“I tried too hard to take good pictures, but the photos ended up being childish,” he recalls. Over the following four years, he continued to take photos of the mountain, but instead of striving to master the stone Buddhist statues, he waited patiently for their inner character to naturally emerge. As such, he waited for the right moment, when the intensity and angle of the light brought the faces to life.

Kang’s photos are the product of waiting. One or two days of waiting for a single photograph is not all that unusual. To capture the Silla royal tombs in winter, however, Kang had to wait for years on Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

West Pagoda of Mireuk Temple in Geumma-myeon in Iksan, North Jeolla Province, 1996.

end, constantly listening to the weather forecast. At the news of snowfall he would rush to the tombs, only to arrive after the snow had already melted. Certain subjects offered only a single opportunity for a photo during an entire year, such as the Buddhist statue found in a rocky cave, whose face caught the sunlight just right only once a year. This photograph, “Face of the Seated Buddha in Bulgol Cave” (1984), was shown at the Busan exhibition.

A monk who had admired the photo of this statue in Kang’s book “Gyeongju Namsan” (1987) hoped to take his own picture of the statue. But when he visited the cave on several occasions, the light was never right, a fact that he lamented when he met Kang at the exhibition. Back when he had completed “Gyeongju Namsan,” Kang wrote: “My only method was to visit the site repeatedly in a plodding fashion, taking countless images. If by chance my subject has been captured with any degree of accuracy, it is due to this simple doggedness.”

Discovery of Landscapes The use of “vintage” in his “Vintage Landscapes” title has a dual meaning. It refers to ancient times, as the photos depict symbols of Korea’s cultural heritage that have survived for more than a thousand years. It also means that the photos belong to a long-ago period K o r e a n a ı A u t u mm 2 0 1 1

of the photographer’s career. In Kang’s vintage landscapes, it is not so much the light but the time that is the key. For any photo, light naturally plays a crucial role. But Kang’s photos depend not only on the sunlight but also the “light of time,” a concept reflected in the title of one of his books. The photos in this exhibition seem to emphasize the “then (there)” rather than the “now (here).” Of course, photos of a pine tree forest, the sky at twilight, the seashore, a stone pagoda, and the isolated corner of a royal tomb site reveal the layers of time associated with the objects, but the “then” and the “now” are not clearly distinguished.

The photograph “Tombs of Nodong-dong, Gyeongju” (1984) captures the royal tombs set against four layers of ridges, but it takes you back in time to more than a thousand years ago. If it is possible for a landscape scene to be discovered, this photo would be an example of that. It shows not the time of light, but the light of time. Here, time seems to be a metaphor for time and history, for the photographer’s own time and his subjectivity. The photo of the tomb site in Nodong-dong is, as Kang notes, the result of a fortuitous harmony of the subject and the manner of expression. But in his works, the manner of expression is not so important. Kang’s photos are not technically sophisticated, and are thus likened to an “amateur’s photos,” in

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1. Site of Mujang Temple in the woods of Amgok-dong, Gyeongju, 1995.

2. The standing Avalokitesvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion, on Mt. Nam in Gyeongju, 1985.

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the minds of younger photographers. But more than any other phostory of the earth” and “the story of history.” The latter has been pretographer, Kang insists on the fundamentals, the inherent nature of sented through the “Vintage Landscapes” exhibition and book of the photography. same title, while the former can be seen in his exhibitions and books: Kang took up photography as a university student in the 1960s, “Images of Three Villages” (2001), “In the Evening” (2008), and “All while studying English literature. After graduation, he went to work the Sediments” (1997). for a news magazine but was greatly disappointed at his lack of indeSince his early years as a freelance photographer, Kang has pendence and artistic freedom. He was dismissed from his job in worked in various genres. But he has never acknowledged any com1975 when the military regime sought to tighten its control over the missioned work as his own, no matter how artistic the result might news media. While studying the history of photography, he would be. He advises his juniors: “The photographer alone can protect himoften wonder: “What is photography?” So after he was fired, he self.” He is that rare artist who has aligned his work with his life. Yi became Korea’s first freelance photographer. In such harsh times, when a photographer had no rights The image takes you back in time to more than a thousand years ago. If it but only obligations, Kang traveled the countryside, which was being is possible for a landscape scene to be discovered, this photo would be an rapidly destroyed under the dictatorial government’s development-first example of that. It shows not the time of light, but the light of time. policy, to establish his own photographic language.

Gi-ung, the publisher of most of Kang’s books, wrote in the foreword Kang’s philosophy of photography can be called a “bap photography theory.” Here, bap means “steamed rice,” while the theory sugto “Kang Woon-gu’s Philosophy of Photography,” released last year: gests that “as with bap , the greatest dish that can be made with rice, “Kang Woon-gu is stubborn. He never gives way on his convictions. the essence of photography is the documentary photo.” This concept But his convictions, gained through much observation, thought, and has laid the foundation for Korea’s documentary photography. As for study, are almost always right.”

Kang, the best photos are those that document things quickly and Kang is turning 70 years old this year. Considering his age, Kang’s accurately. A photojournalist’s duty is to communicate with the public life cycle seems to be akin with his vintage landscapes. But his through the realistic images of his photos. He is respected by young photography and artistic spirit remain youthful because he rigidly photographers in Korea for the consistent application of this philosoadheres to the essence of photography and to his professional digniphy to his works. His oeuvre might be generally grouped into “the ty. Kang Woon-gu is forever young.

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Interview

Beneath the Flamboyance, A Sense of Sadness Lee Yong-baek at 2011 Venice Biennale The 54th International Art Exhibition of the Venice Biennale (June 4-November 24, 2011), directed by the Swiss art historian and critic Bice Curiger, comprises a light-themed main exhibition titled “ILLUMInations� and a record-high 89 national pavilions. Korea is represented by the conceptual media artist Lee Yong-baek, whose works have generated considerable enthusiasm among global viewers.

Koh Mi-seok Senior Reporter of Art & Design, The Dong-a Ilbo

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s soon as he returned from Venice after attending the opening ceremony of the Biennale art exhibition, Lee Yong-baek again took off for deep sea fishing in Korea’s southern seas, with his cell phone turned off. I visited Lee at his studio in Gimpo, Gyeonggi Province, after his return.

With his tanned complexion, unruly hair, and wiry yet sturdy build, Lee looked more like a scrappy seaman than a cosmopolite at the forefront of contemporary artistic expression through various media and communication technologies.

Lee’s hometown is Gimpo, a small city west of Seoul, where he returned after completing his studies in the capital 20 years ago and built a home and workroom atop a low hill. His home studio is part of a concrete structure built three years ago. The workroom looks like a disorderly factory.

With an oversized speaker that looks like it should belong in a recording studio, large TV monitors crowd the space with an assortment of tools scattered all over the place. After looking around the workroom, we sat down at a wooden table in the kitchen area.

“Plastic Fish,” a painting on canvas, depicts artificial fishing lures in vibrant colors and variety (left). On the right, set against windows framing a scene of luxuriant trees, is “Pieta — Selfdeath,” a contemporary take on the iconic theme, in which the casting mold holds the resultant work.

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Koh: Congratulations! The Korean Pavilion, which is displaying 14 of your works, including the installations titled “Angel Soldier” and “Broken Mirror,” the sculpture “Pieta,” and the painting “Plastic Fish,” has been receiving favorable reviews at the Venice Biennale. What do you think of your exhibition?

Lee: I’d been to the Biennale before, a couple of times, as a spectator. But as an artist this time, displaying my works there, it was a totally different experience.

It was a real battlefield. I heard that more than $4 million was spent on the

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U.S. Pavilion, which includes an upturned tank. Competition was fierce. Seeing that, I just thought: “Okay, you people can fight a war. I’m going the opposite way.” Because national pavilions took on such an aggressive approach, I laundered flowery-camouflage military uniforms and hung them from the rooftop.

The military uniforms, as laundry, signify a timeout, or peace, suggesting our intention to not engage in war. As the international media covered my works and word spread among visitors, I began to receive an enthusiastic response.

Flowers and Military Images Visitors to the Korean Pavilion came up to Lee to express their approval of his works, telling him it is “the best exhibition.” Recalling these words of praise, he notes in a hushed voice: “Though flamboyant on the outside, all these works give me a sense of sadness on the inside. I guess people could see this sorrow.”

Koh: The title of the exhibition, “Love is gone, but the scar will heal,” sounds like a romantic poem. What is the meaning of this title and how did you go about selecting the works to exhibit?

Lee: The Korean Pavilion commissioner Yoon Jae-gap suggested the title. And I agreed, interpreting it as a gradual process of getting over our unrequited love for Western art. The wound has healed and now we’ve come to a point where we can compete on an equal footing. Before deciding on the works to display, I thought about the exhibition space. The pavilion was designed to look full even without any exhibits. Therefore, I decided to display works of various media, like painting, sculpture, and installation. While hoping that people might be attracted to at least one of the forms, I wanted that to lead them to my other works.

The first impression you are likely to get from my works is that they are pretty and showy overall. However, if you take a closer look, you are confronted with a grave reality. In the case of “Angel Soldier,” which is an installation work of video

and photography, the video screen shows images of diverse colors in harmony, as figures in flower-patterned military camouflage, armed with rifles, advance stealthily. Flowers are the No. 1 taboo subject of modern art, but I use them nevertheless. What you see first is the beauty of flowers, but they conceal terror and tension beneath the surface, hitting you in the gut with the heart-wrenching political situation of [our] divided Korea.

Koh: The sculpture “Pieta” shows an unusual form in which the casting mold holds the resultant figure. It has been called a stroke of genius to make such use of a mold, which is ordinarily discarded after a form is created.

Lee: We, as humans, are torn between this duality in our nature — loving ourselves too much or hating too much.

So, the “Pieta” expresses these two sides: the human figure holding his own dead self in his arms and attacking itself. “Pieta” originally represented human sorrow itself. But in the West, the image depicting the Virgin Mary holding the dead Jesus in her arms has been used for religious iconography. I think the real sorrow is our own death after all. I don’t mean just physical death, but losing our own dreams.

Koh: “Broken Mirror” is an actual mirror that shatters at the sound of a gunshot when a viewer stands in front of the work. It is also a huge hit as an interactive media art form.

Lee: The mirror signifies the self breaking apart, sug-

The media installation “Angel Soldier” (left) and its creator, Lee Yong-baek, right. If you look closely, you can see figures, armed with rifles, advancing stealthily.

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“I’m planning to make nature documentaries in earnest when I turn 60. I want to film the uninhabited islands of Korea while enjoying deep sea fishing and scuba diving.

In order to sustain yourself as an artist for the long term, I think it’s very important that you know how to enjoy yourself.”

gesting a philosophical self-reflection. Because of the loud and shocking sound, we get startled reactions; some people even scream. I started to work on mirrors when I was studying at the State Academy of Visual Arts Stuttgart (SAdBK) in Germany. As a male, I would rarely look at myself in a mirror, but while studying abroad, I often found myself in front of a mirror to prepare for presentations. I talked to myself in the mirror or just gazed at my reflection. Between yourself in reality and the fascinating image of yourself you dream about, many things come into play. Reality approaching fantasy means dreams coming true, while reality falling far short of fantasy will frustrate people. I wanted to show an in-between state through breaking mirrors.

“Plastic Fish,” a painting of colorful artificial fishing lures, is a sharp rebuke on the reality of imitations of nature being used to capture the true essence of nature. The exhibition of these works has been seen as an insightful reflection of Korea’s modern history and hardship in the 20th century.

Influence of Nam June Paik As an artist, Lee most admires three of the world’s most influential contemporary artists: John Cage, Nam June Paik (Paik Nam-june), and Joseph Beuys, whose avant-garde explorations of artistic expression and interactivity through modern media have changed the paradigms of art in multiple fields.

Meeting Nam June Paik, the creator of video art, has left an indelible mark on Lee. Lee: When I was studying in Germany, in 1991-1996, I saw students walking hurriedly across the campus. I asked one of them: “What’s going on?” He said: “Nam June Paik is here!” I followed them and got to meet him. At another time, I went to an art gallery to buy some books and ran into him there. I introduced myself as a Korean student and he invited me to grab a bite to eat. So, we spent a couple of hours talking over a meal at a hotel. I told him I was struggling to figure out what I should do after finishing my studies and he said to me: “Do you have anything more to learn in school? Just go to Korea, America, or any other place where you can live and work on your art.” He also said that it’s important to understand the difference between funny and interesting.

Of Nam June Paik’s advice to him during this encounter, Lee remembers most this enduring lesson: “Do not show what you are K o r e a n a ı A u t u mm 2 0 1 1

good at and instead minimize your mistakes.” This wisdom has been his guide at the Venice Biennale. But it was not an easy journey. As Paik had suggested, Lee returned to Korea after his studies, but it was tough for an unknown to survive as an artist, even at home.

self. Enjoying yourself can actually be more difficult than working hard. To make an art work, you need to be motivated by some kind of stimulus or inspiration.

The Artist and his Times Lee: After I came back to Korea in 1996, about two years later, an art gallery offered to hold an exhibition of my works. But then the gallery hired a new curator and he canceled the proposed project six months before my exhibition. So, I just went to Sungkok Art Museum to see the curator, whose name I didn’t even know, and asked him to give me just half an hour to explain my work to him. Then and there, he agreed to hold my exhibition. And you know what? He was Lee Won-il, who passed away just a few months ago. As an exhibition by a no-name artist, we were fortunate: the show attracted many visitors and earned favorable reviews. In 2000, I displayed an interactive work, titled “Artificial Emotion,” in which viewers were confronted with the breathing of a dead cow. But this was seen by only 30 visitors. I was really shocked that nobody showed interest in it.

Koh: This must have been really frustrating.

Lee: Definitely. Then, I thought I should stop trying for a while. An artist can never make it alone. Selling works aside, experimental work needs at least some encouragement. It was really difficult for me that nobody cared. In 2001, I didn’t do any exhibition work and instead started to work on broadcast projects. I made a living by diving 30 meters underwater with heavy equipment to film scenes for nature documentaries.

From his thirties until last year, Lee worked on documentaries to earn income, which he then invested into his art work. One such production project was a documentary that showcased Korea’s historical monuments, such as Bulguk Temple, for the online content of the Cultural Heritage Administration. At the age of 41, he finally found himself in a position to offer his artworks for sale.

Lee: Art and documentary making are what I like to do. I’m planning to make nature documentaries in earnest when I turn 60. I want to film the uninhabited islands of Korea while enjoying deep sea fishing and scuba diving. In order to sustain yourself as an artist for the long term, I think it’s very important that you know how to enjoy your-

Lee’s art works are straightforward and provocative.

Commissioner Yoon notes: “While many artists create conceptual, ambiguous, and personal works, Lee Yongbaek highlights the aesthetics of relationships, which I like. Roughly speaking, his works express a kind of sociology of art but they also reveal, ultimately, things about life. Also, Lee has his own style that you cannot easily find in Western references.”

Koh: You work in a variety of media such as painting, sculpture, and installations.

Lee: I work in various forms because I lived in a period when artistic freedom and open expression were prohibited. I began my studies in 1985 at Hongik University where 100 percent of the professors were minimalists.

I strongly opposed education that adheres to only one method. I went to college because I wanted to do my own art work, but they repressed anything creative, which suffocated me. Under the military dictatorship, there was also a strong wave of self-censorship. Art, as I see it, is about expanding ideas and perceptions. However, in those years, it was like living in a house ruled by a single-minded conservative patriarch. But outside the campus, there also was a strong voice emerging, that of People’s Art. I couldn’t accept this dichotomy.

I believe that the arts are fundamentally about personal freedom, and as a result, you can also help others to free themselves. But that was not allowed during my college years. So I had no

choice but to go abroad; I allowed myself to be as free as possible, within legally acceptable bounds, while studying abroad. In the early years, I was much attracted to “process art,” in which the works cease to exist after they are exhibited. For this, I needed a video camera to record my works. Then, I thought competition with Westerners might be tough in traditional painting and sculpture, but in the newly emerged video art, I could compete on an equal footing. That is why I experimented with various methods.

Thereafter, Lee has developed a practice of considering an idea from different perspectives related to various media. The final form he decides on, he notes wryly, depends on his “bank balance.”

Koh: An art book commentary by the distinguished U.S. scholar, John Rajchman of Columbia University, has attracted much attention. He noted that Korea’s indigenous modern art emerged after the democratization movement in 1987, and that your works are closely related to the politics, history, and social conditions of Korea. Would you call yourself a student activist?

Lee: I joined demonstrations but was not a hardcore member [of any group]. During one demonstration, I threw a stone that I saw hit a riot policeman, who fell down. From then on, I didn’t throw any more stones. When I went to the art studio during high school, teachers were divided into Modernist versus People’s Art. I hated both. In retrospect, our generation, which was educated during the Park Chung-hee regime, was accustomed to coercion. People’s Art was not much different. After seeing the creation of doctrines, organizations, and authoritative rules, I didn’t see any difference from Modernism. I believe that if you decide on the way you want to see the world in advance, and maintain this mindset, you can never be an artist.

At the Starting Line Again Lee’s artworks are visually appealing. This is related to his notion of survival as an artist. He first attempts to have people let their guard down with beauty and glitter, but then has them look at the real truth within themselves and probe the

issues of our times. Just as he rejected the dichotomy during his college years, he still refuses to have his artworks restricted by external factors.

Lee: While studying abroad, I delved into various experimental works. If people reacted positively to my works, I would immediately stop working on them and move on to new works. While I was trying to figure out how to live my life, I read an insightful passage in a book, which said: “If you set a trap to catch a rabbit, after you have succeeded in catching one you should discard the trap.”

I applied this to my own life. Art is a means to communicate. Once the communication is complete, you should dump the means. So, when I completed my study abroad, I threw out most of my works, as much as two full containers, and returned home with only works on paper.

Koh: What are your plans for the future?

Lee: In September, I’ll be holding a large-scale private exhibition at the Pin Gallery in Beijing’s 798 Art District. I call the Venice Biennale a practice game; the exhibition in China is the main game.

He explained the exhibition plans with a bemused look on his face. He cannot imagine spending his entire life working on a single theme because he strongly believes that an artist with vitality also has a strong sense of self-reflection. Wise enough to boldly dump the trap after catching its prey. This is exactly why we can expect endless challenges and surprises from Lee Yongbaek.

Left: “Pieta — Self-hatred,” a sculpture attacks the prone motherfigure of the casting mold whence it came. Right: Lee hung laundered flower-patterned military uniforms from the rooftop of the Korean Pavilion at the Venice Biennale as a symbol of peace.

ON THE GLOBAL STAGE

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A Global Bestseller Shin Kyung-sook’s

‘Please Look After Mom’ Following its successful release in the United States in April, Shin Kyung-sook’s novel “Please Look After Mom” is now making a noteworthy foray into the European region. It is widely acknowledged that her literary work has achieved global popularity through her masterful portrayal of the symbolism of a mother figure.

Kim Mi-hyun Professor of Korean Language and Literature, Ewha Womans University

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he novel reached the one-million sales mark only 10 months after its release in Korea in November 2008, the fastest-ever ascent to the million-seller list for a literary publication in the country. As of June 2011, sales have reached 1.75 million copies, with publication contracts in 28 countries around the world. The novel has become the first translated publication of a Korean literary work to be showcased in the United Kingdom, Portugal, Israel, Serbia, Finland, and Iceland, among other countries. Online bookstore Amazon.com named the book one of its top ten publications for the first half of 2011, while The New York Times ranked it 14th on its best fiction list. The author has recently completed a successful book tour of seven U.S. cities and eight European countries.

These are the facts and figures of novelist Shin Kyung-sook’s literary success at home and abroad. In an interview, she once likened the high acclaim she earned outside her homeland as the “first snow” that fell on foreign soil for the writer and for Korean literature as well. To me, however, her comment seems an understatement: this “first snow” now appears to be of almost blizzard proportions in terms of its literary and commercial triumph. Especially, Shin’s achievements are a reward for the perseverance and dedication of her artistic efforts since her debut in 1985, with a short story published in a literary magazine. [Additional information about Shin Kyung-sook and her literature can be found in the 2010 Winter edition of Koreana. — Editor’s Note] The global embrace of Shin’s novel “Please Look After Mom” is partly due to contributions from a number of sources, such as the Korea Literature Translation Institute and the Daesan Foundation that provided assistance for the English translation.

The adroit translation by Kim Chi-young and the marketing expertise of the literary publishing house Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. also contributed much to the book’s commercial success. But the international acclaim that has been lavished upon the book is ultimately the result of the novel’s universal appeal.

Beyond the Boundaries of Korean Literature

2 1. Novelist Shin Kyung-sook at the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, New York City. She says she frequently visited the center during her stint as a visiting scholar at Columbia University from September 2010 to August 2011. (Photograph: Lee Jae-an) 2. Book cover of the U.S. edition of “Please Look After Mom.”

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The fame of “Please Look After Mom” does not necessarily support a popular notion that “what is the most Korean is the most universal.” Evidently, there are elements that reinforce its universal resonance with readers of different backgrounds beyond national borders. Above all, the novel is about Mom, which enables the fictional writing to attain a certain level of familiarity. In the novel, Mom is portrayed as a heroic self-sacrificing figure who prevents family values from becoming obsolete. For this, Mom will at times find herself in conflict with other family members, through which she strives to sustain and transform the family. Readers are encouraged to interpret and understand the mother figure from their own perspectives. For some, the Mom character can serve as a personification of God, Life (womb or homeland), or Otherness. It can even be regarded as a stand-in for the reader himself. Mom is a representation of the values or sentiments that have been lost but need to be found and restored.

The universal appeal of the Mom motif effectively resonates with readers around the world. “The novel is a story of a Korean family, but it is also about any American family given different names and locations,” a reader notes in an Amazon.com review.

“The novel captures the dilemma experienced by any family around the world,” according to another book review on a Ms. Magazine blog.

“Please Look After Mom,” however, is not content with simply portraying Mom as the traditional persona of a self-sacrificing motherhood. On the contrary, the novel

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The author autographs copies of her book at a book-signing event at the Hay Festival, in Hay-on-Wye, Wales, United Kingdom, in May.

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struggles against the ideology of a conventional motherhood. The author defines the novel as a work that reveals the truth about Mom, which does away with Mom stereotypes, while deconstructing the Mom into an independent, self-reliant human being.

Even though the novel may appear to uphold the conservative patriarchal values of a pre-modern motherhood at first glance, readers are gradually led to discover a progressive and autonomous mother figure. In other words, we can say that the novel is a kind of Trojan Horse of the literature on motherhood.

The self-sacrificing Mom in the novel transcends what might be categorized as “anti-modern” or “anti-feminist.” The novelist goes beyond that to create a Mom who is actually “post-modern” and “post-feminist.” Therefore, the caring Mom is not a passive existence of “is,” but a multifaceted dynamic character who “does.” As the author has mentioned on several occasions, the underlying theme of the novel is not so much about reminiscing about Mom as endeavoring to identify Mom and find the truth of her life. In this sense, “Please Look After Mom” is a novel that portrays the motherhood and family of the 21st century.

Shin Kyung-sook’s Literary Achievement In addition to its worldwide popularity, the novel’s artistic success has been widely heralded as well. From the first sentence of the book — “It’s been a week since Mom went missing” — to its ending with “It’s been nine months since Mom went missing,” the story maintains the literary tension of a mystery plot. Also impressive is the powerful narrative, encompassing the different per“The novel is a story of a Korean family, but it is also about any spectives of the Son, Daughter, Husband, and Mom herself. The first three are voiced in a American family given different names and locations.” tension-filled second-person “you” narrative, while Mom’s part is spoken in the more emotionally charged first-person “I” narration. The artistic refinement of the novel is highlighted by the masterful adaptation of symbolic objects, such as Mom’s shoes, birds, and Michelangelo’s sculpture, Pieta.

Readers also give due attention to the notable literary devices employed in the novel. For example, Oprah Magazine recommended the book in its April 2011 issue, along with a list of thought-provoking questions, such as: “While the second-person (“you”) narration is an uncommon mode, it is used throughout the novel’s first section (account of the daughter, Chi-hon) and third section (account of the husband). What is the effect of this choice? How does it reflect these characters’ feelings about Mom? Why do you think Mom is the only character who tells her story in the first person?

Why is food such a powerful element in Hyong-chol’s memories of his mother? How do you explain the fact that Mom has been seen by various people wearing blue plastic sandals, with her foot badly injured, although when she disappeared she was wearing low-heeled beige sandals?”

In this way, readers are invited not only to follow the storyline but also to appreciate the novel’s artistic presentation. In-depth reading and the resulting public appreciation of Shin’s work as a masterful literary accomplishment provide an opportunity for the author’s other writings to be introduced to the global literary scene. According to Shin, literature is a source of reflection and artistic appeal that reinforces human solidarity and provides solace for the weak and fragile. She maintains that the role of her writing is not to denounce or resent the absurd realities of the world. As global readers continue to seek out such intrinsic values of art and the human condition, demand for Shin Kyung-sook’s works can only grow.

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ARTISAN

Potter

Kim Il-mahn

Preserves the Age-old Tradition of Onggi Ware From antiquity, Koreans have used crude pottery jars to store kimchi, the fermented vegetable dish that is their trademark food worldwide, and other staples, such as doen-

jang (soybean paste), gochujang (red pepper paste) and ganjang (soy sauce). The microporous surfaces of the homely onggi vessels create an optimal environment for fermentation.

Park Hyun-sook Freelance Writer | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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he process of fermentation produces bacteria that are beneficial to the human body; not only does it make food more flavorful but it becomes more healthful as well. The rich, ripe flavor characteristic of fermented foods has an oddly attractive quality. Futurist Alvin Toffler predicts in “The Third Wave” that fermented foods would be the taste of the future. He foresees the world’s food culture turning its attention to fermented foods and away from a current preference for salt and prepared sauces. Fermentation enhances the nutritional value of foods by producing a variety of beneficial by-products.

Assisting in the fermentation process, crudely made pottery vessels, known as onggi , have long served as the ideal containers for Korean

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food. About 90 percent of Korea’s traditional cuisine is made with fermented ingredients.

Best Results from Traditional Ways The process of making a traditional onggi vessel involves a laborious kneading of the clay, shaping its form on a wheel, and firing it in a kiln stoked with oak wood. Korean onggi pottery can be glazed a dark brown (oji geureut ) or left unglazed (jil geureut ). However, nowadays the unglazed variety is rarely seen. The hard, vitreous crude ceramic containers have surfaces with micro-fine pores, which allow in air to facilitate the fermentation process. Foods stored in these jars are

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1. Master potter Kim Il-mahn smooths out the rim of a pot as the final step of shaping the vessel.

2. Coils of clay are piled in layers to form the pot’s bottom on the deck of the potter’s wheel.

3. Inner and outer surfaces of the clay walls are smoothed and hardened by hitting them with paddles on both sides.

4. The finished vessel is left to dry completely and then glazed before firing.

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less likely to spoil because the containers allow air to circulate, but without any leakage of liquid. Because of this property, Koreans call them “breathing jars.” In the past, when the crude pottery ware was an integral aspect of every household in Korea, women took great care to keep the surface of their jars clean so that the pores could breathe properly. In doing so, the flavors of their stored kimchi and soy sauce would be enhanced.

The importance of onggi pottery in Korean life has long been a matter of record. “History of the Three Kingdoms” (Samguk Sagi ), notes that the Silla Dynasty (57 B.C-A.D. 935) maintained a government agency named Wagijeon, which supervised the production of ceramic roof tiles and containers. More recently, in the 1960s, there were more than 500 kiln sites nationwide that fired traditional onggi products.

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Korea’s traditional pottery is best exemplified by two distinctive styles that are both technically high-fired porcelain — the bluishgreen celadon, which is reminiscent of a dignified nobleman, and white porcelain, often likened to an innocent and subtle beauty. As such, these ceramic works have been regarded more as fine artworks to be displayed and appreciated. By contrast, crude earthen or stoneware products called onggi were everyday household items, like a “plain and homely, hardworking wife,” as the poet Jeong Jiyong wrote in his poem, “Homesick.” These ordinary containers might not have a captivating charm, but with time and use they reveal their unpretentious and functional beauty.

Master potter Kim Il-mahn, 70, started to learn his craft at the age of 15 as a clay preparer who was responsible for filtering impurities from raw clay by mixing it with water. His lifelong dedication to onggi Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

pottery was rewarded on February 11, 2010, when the Korean government named him “Important Intangible Cultural Property No. 96.”

Kim explains: “When fired in a traditional kiln, only about 50 percent of the pieces come out undamaged. Many others explode in the kiln because the interior temperature is uneven. If I used a gas kiln, I wouldn’t have to stay up all night stoking the fire with wood, and I could save almost all my pieces. And for that matter, an electric wheel is much handier than a manual wheel. However, seeking such alternatives — that’s not what a true potter does.”

Pottery Legacy of Eight Generations

ter. I am the first potter in my family to have his own kiln. When I settled down here in Ipo in 1980, this was a potters’ village, littered with kilns. Now, with almost all of them disappearing, the three kilns in my workshop have become a rarity.”

Across from the kilns is a studio where the vessels are thrown. All the five potter’s wheels in the studio are spun by foot in the old way.

In the studio, three young men are throwing jars; some are large enough to hold more than 100 liters of water. They are the master’s eldest son Seong-ho, 49; youngest son Yong-ho, 37; and grandson Myeong-jin, 23. All of the master’s four sons are part of the family business; his second son Jeong-ho, 46, and third son Chang-ho, 43, operate their own workshops. All their products are sold under the brand name Obuja Onggi (Father and Four Sons’ Onggi Pottery).

Kim’s unwavering faith in the traditional ways is proudly on display at the entrance to his workshop, which stands alongside his house.

His “Yeoju Ipo-ri Onggi Kiln” complex consists of three traditional-style kilns built more than 150 years ago. Each kiln is different in shape “If I used a gas kiln, I wouldn’t have to stay up all night stoking and size. The largest kiln has a spacious chamber that can accommodate a large number of the fire with wood, and I could save almost all my pieces. And big-sized jars at one time. The kiln’s tunnelfor that matter, an electric wheel is much handier than a manual shaped chamber was originally 40 meters long when first built, but has since been reduced wheel. However, seeking such alternatives – that’s not what a to its current size: 24.5 meters in length, 2.42.8 meters in width, and 1.53-1.75 meters in true potter does.” height. The second largest kiln (10.73m by 1.5m by 1.1-1.15m) is mainly used for firing mediumIncluding his grandson, the tradition of onggi pottery is now being sized jars and steamer pots. The smallest kiln (7m by 1.95m by 1.15carried on by the eighth generation of the family. Like his father, the 1.27m) is used for small pots and unglazed vessels. eldest son Seong-ho’s career as a potter started when he was 15.

Kim said: “My hometown is Andong, North Gyeongsang Province, With over 30 years of experience, however, he still calls himself “a and my family has produced potters through six generations, includstudent.” ing me. Being a potter, in the past and in the present, is a hard way “I’m still learning. Not a single step is easy, beginning from preto make a living. To make matters even worse, my father drank up paring raw clay,” he says. “We collect clay from all over the counall the money he earned from selling his wares. With no home of his try to have the best quality mix for throwing and firing. I believe my own, he wandered around the country, working as an itinerant pot-

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1. The traditional kilns of Obuja Onggi are fired four times a year, for five days straight for each firing.

2. Kim checks the fired jars inside the cooled kiln. In a traditional kiln, the temperature is so uneven that almost half of the pieces are destroyed during the firing process.

father is right in persisting with the traditional way. It comes from his belief that machines can’t replace human hands, and this leads him to take the utmost care in his work. Firing in a traditional kiln results in a higher rate of loss, but the works that come out intact are more durable and attractive. Besides, unlike with electric wheels, I can maintain a proper rhythm and speed with my foot-treadle wheel, and only then can I pull up the walls that are stable and smooth.”

The master’s grandson, Myeong-jin, studied pottery in high school and is now in college, majoring in visual arts. He says his grandfather has been the source of pride and joy he feels as an artisan who stands to continue the family’s craft. His uncle Chang-ho chimes in: “Onggi pottery requires a painstaking process from the beginning all through the end. For a firing, we usually stay up all night, for at least five days, because we have to tend the fire and control its heat. On the final day, when the fire is extinguished, most potters are completely exhausted. When I was young, my father was the only potter who would go right back to his wheel on the same day. Watching my father, who was so tireless in the pursuit of his calling, I decided to follow his lead.”

Kim Il-mahn works at his wheel at the back of the studio, behind his two sons and grandson. They form a perfect tableau: the father, wise with lifelong experience and rich with insight, quietly observes his sons with pride. “A young and strong man can spin his wheel vigorously and hit the clay rhythmically as he pulls up the walls of his pot. But I’m an old man, so my wheel spins feebly and I make a faltering sound when I hit the walls of my pot. But, look at them! How energetic they sound!” The master knows that his sons and grandson are worthy heirs of his family’s legacy.

Kim is also proud of his foot-powered wheels. “When I was strong­ er, I used to throw a 1,200-liter jar all by myself. It’s not to say that I’m especially skillful, but other potters could not do that. In other countries, I heard that a number of potters collaborate to make an exceptionally large-sized jar, and they join together large slabs of clay to form the body. Korean potters make the walls by piling up long coils of clay and pinching them together. This way, we can make the body much more solid and sturdy.”

Pot walls built this way need to be smoothed out by striking the inner and outer surfaces simultaneously, using small implements in both hands. This is the most important step in making a sturdy onggi jar. While a potter with two to three years of experience can acquire the ability to properly pile up the clay coils, over ten years of experi-

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ence is needed to successfully execute this critical smoothing process.

Aging Clay for its ‘Breathing’ Function Just as kimchi attains its peak flavor when fully fermented, the clay also has to be properly aged to assure the vessel’s “breathing” function. The importance of aging is reflected in the saying among potters: “Clay you’re preparing today is best if used by your grandson.”

Kim explains: “The properties of clay vary widely by region. Crumbly or sticky, gritty or fine… the properties are diverse. The gritty quality itself differs widely due to the sand content in various clays.

Potters have to make the most of the clay’s individual qualities, so we’re not usually satisfied with single-origin clays. From early times, it has been known that the more clay types you combine, the better the clay mix you will end up with. I’ve also traveled to all the places in Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

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the country famous for their soil conditions to collect samples from as many sources as possible and to find out the best possible combination.”

Once the best combination is prepared, the raw clay is soaked in water to filter out impurities, such as grass roots or grit, before it is aged for a while. When the clay settles down, the water is poured off and the clean clay is dried and pounded into a fine powder. Then it is mixed with water and kneaded into long coils. A lump of clay is placed on the deck of the potter’s wheel, dusted with white clay powder, and then spread and pounded into the desired shape of the bottom. Coils of clay are piled in layers along the edges of the bottom to pull up the walls.

Once a piece has been shaped, it is left to dry for a week or a month, depending on the season. Glaze is applied on dried pieces.

The glaze is a mixture of wood ash and red clay, aged for 2-4 months.

Normally, it takes 50-60 days to complete the entire process, from K o r e a n a ı A u t u mm 2 0 1 1

the preparation of clay to the firing of the shaped pieces.

“We fire the kilns four times a year — twice in spring and twice in the fall. We fire 350-400 works in each kiln and stoke the fire with thin-barked red pine wood from Gangneung, because this particular wood can produce a higher heat. The temperature in the kilns rises from 100°C on the first day up to 1,200-1,300°C, and the fire is extinguished after five days,” says the master.

The crude ceramic pots and jars might all look similar to most people, but the master and his four sons can distinguish their own works from that of others. They say this is true of any experienced potter. Although the age-old pottery products are no longer household necessities of Koreans today, there are still people with discerning eyes on the lookout for well crafted traditional pots and jars. To satisfy the expectations of such customers and those of their own, this family of potters is determined to keep alive the tradition of onggi pottery making among even more generations to come.

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On the Road

The year 2011 marks the millennial anniversary of the commencement of the compilation of the original edition of the Tripitaka Koreana. To commemorate this historic occasion, a three-day reenactment event of transporting the wooden printing blocks was undertaken some 100 days ahead of the main celebration, “The 2011 Millennial Anniversary of the Tripitaka Koreana,� which officially commences on September 23.

Venerable Sungahn Director, Preservation Department, Institute of the Tripitaka Koreana, Haein Temple | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Millennium Pilgrimage of the Tripitaka Koreana

1. The procession headed by a palanquin carrying an original Tripitaka woodblock is circling the pagoda in the main courtyard of Haein Temple before departing for Seoul.

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A woodblock of the Tripitaka Koreana.

It has been a thousand years since the original edition was engraved.

However, the printing blocks were destroyed by fire in 1232 during the Mongolian invasion of Goryeo and only some prints have been preserved.

Four years later, in 1236, the reproduction of the Buddhist canon was initiated, which was completed after 15 years.

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n June 18, the grand bell at the music pavilion on the grounds of Haein Temple was struck five times, permeating the Saturday morning air with a deep resonance. A choir group, clad in traditional attire, sang “The Three Refuges” and Venerable Nojeon recited “The Heart Sutra.” Following a “Report to the Buddha” delivered by the rector of Haein Sangha College, the abbot removed one of the 81,258 printing blocks of the Tripitaka Koreana from its depository and placed it inside a palanquin. This departure ceremony marked the first of many steps to be taken by the huge procession on its journey to Seoul.

The Pilgrimage Begins The procession was headed by a traditional band, dressed in yellow costumes, playing bugles and drums. Next came the monks holding various ritual objects: an incense burner, a banner of the Soul-Guiding Bodhisattva, five-colored banners, parasols, and large plantain fans. They were followed by the palanquin with the original woodblock, and a legion of monks, including the chief abbot, along with those from the temple’s meditation center and others studying scripture, and nuns attending a summer meditation retreat. Bringing up the rear were devotees, each bearing a replica block on the head.

After departing the Hall of Dharma Jewel and passing by the Hall of the Great Tranquil Light, the procession marched ahead until they reached the Road of Steles, where the abbot presented the woodblock to the governor of Hapcheon County. With this delivery, the first day’s event came to an end. Following a commemorative event in Seoul, the printing block was scheduled to return to Haein Temple via the river port of Gaegyeong, thereby retracing the journey of seven centuries ago.

If the most exquisite culture is said to flourish in times of prosperity, the Tripitaka Koreana is a true national treasure that testifies to the lofty economic and cultural heights attained by the Goryeo Dynasty (9181392). Venerable Uicheon, a prince and national preceptor of Goryeo, remarked that the compilation of the Tripitaka was the “task of sending the wisdom of our millennium to another millennium of the future.”

The Goryeo people’s accumulated knowledge and technology of the past thousand years have been infused into the Tripitaka and passed along to us, a thousand years later. The immensity of this historic occasion was brought to light by the recent reenactment of the pilgrimage of the Tripitaka woodblocks.

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1 1. On their way back to Haein Temple, devotees bearing a replica block on their heads proceed along a road from Gilsangam hermitage.

2. The departure ceremony held in front of the depositories of the Tripitaka Koreana at Haein Temple.

One Hundred and Eight Steps Haein Temple, the home of the Tripitaka Koreana since the 14th century, is nestled among the slopes of Mt. Gaya. While walking toward the mountain’s peak along the pristine valley of Hongnyudong, you can see the ancient temple come into view above a verdant wooded area. Beyond the One Pillar Gate (Iljumun), the main entrance to the temple grounds, there are two additional gates — the Phoenix Gate (Bonghwangmun) and the Gate of the Four Guardians (Sacheonwangmun) — that lead to a stone stairway. Past these gates, another gate emerges, named the Gate of Nirvana (Haetalmun), which bears the signboard: “The Great Monastery of the Hwaeom Order of Korean Buddhism.” This gate opens onto a spacious courtyard, with the Pavilion of Nine Rays of Light (Gugwangnu) standing at the far edge.

Beyond this two-tier pavilion, with its first story serving as an entrance to the main courtyard, there is a three-story stone pagoda and a stone lantern from the Silla period (57 B.C.-A.D. 935). On the right is the Hall of Avalokitesvara

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(Gwaneumjeon), and on the left the Hall of the Ultimate Truth (Hyeondang), where student monks are housed.

Walking up the stairs, you come to the Hall of the Great Tranquil Light, the temple’s main hall where the Vairocana Buddha is enshrined. To the right are three structures: the Hall of Zen Bliss (Seonyeoldang), the abbot’s residence; the Hall of Judgment of the Dead (Myeongbujeon), where the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva is enshrined; and the Hall of the Arhat (Eungjinjeon). To the rear of the Hall of the Great Tranquil Light is a large complex that includes the oldest buildings at Haein Temple, the two depositories of the Tripitaka Koreana woodblocks (Janggyeong Panjeon). At the top of the steep stairway there is a gate to the complex with a signboard inscribed: “The Eighty-Thousand Tripitaka” (Palman Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

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Daejanggyeong).

The stairs that occasionally appear along the route from the One Pillar Gate to the Tripitaka depositories make a combined total of 108 steps. This number is based on the Buddhist notion that humans can experience 108 kinds of illusions, which are at the root of all suffering. According to Buddhist beliefs, these illusions can be dispelled by walking the path from the One Pillar Gate to the Tripitaka depositories, without missing a single one of the 108 steps. Treading one step after another, we can be freed from the illusions. As such, anyone who does not feel a sense of calm and peacefulness after arriving at the depositories must have missed a step or two along the way.

When I was ordained at Haein Temple, I offered 3,000

1. The Tripitaka woodblocks tightly packed onto the wooden shelves of a depository. Venerable Sungahn looks over one of the woodblocks.

2. The procession of the Tripitaka Koreana passes through the streets of Insa-dong in Seoul.

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bows at the main hall, had my head shaved, and then changed into the postulant’s brown garment. Every postulant is assigned a community-related duty.

Assigned to the General Management Office, I was responsible for miscellaneous tasks to look after things at the temple precincts. An important task of mine was to replace the monk in charge of guarding the Tripitaka depositories during the breakfast, lunch, and dinner hours. I cleaned up the Tripitaka Management Office and also did guard duty at the depositories.

Depository of Tripitaka Koreana Beyond the Gate of Panoptic Eyes (Boanmun), there is a framed board with the name Sudarajang, meaning “storehouse for sutras.” The name is a compound of the words sudara and jang ; the former is a transliteration of the Hindi word “sutra,” a general term for texts of the discourses and teachings of the Buddha and Buddhism in general, while the latter is a Sino-Korean word meaning “storage facility.”

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The buildings that house the Tripitaka Koreana woodblocks are the oldest structures at Haein Temple, built in 1488, during the early years of the Joseon Dynasty.

In order to protect the Tripitaka woodblocks from damage and deterioration, they were designed to maintain a constant temperature and humidity, the key conditions for storing wooden materials. The location, layout, and orientation of the buildings, as well as their interior structure, configuration of the windows, and structure of the shelves all help to ensure adequate lighting and ventilation, which are required to maintain a proper storage environment. Constructed to be functionally practical rather than aesthetic, the buildings are also replete with Buddhist symbolism: the number of pillars in the complex is 108 (the number of human illusions), while the aggregate floor area of all the buildings is equal to 365 pyeong (about 1,200m2), representing the number of days in the year. And the use of minimally trimmed stones is another notable feature.

The building at the center, Pavilion of the EightyThousand Scriptures, houses 6,791 books printed with

undertaking. (Today, a regular full-time worker would account for about 252 man-days in a year.) The cumulative number of characters carved onto the wood blocks amounts to about 52 million, similar to that of “The Annals of the Joseon Dynasty,” which was written over the course of almost 500 years.

Three major temples in Korea represent the Three Jewels of Buddhism: the Buddha, the dharma, and the sangha. Tongdo Temple, where the Buddha’s relics (sarira ) are enshrined, is the Buddha-jewel temple; Haein Temple, which has propagated the Buddha’s teachings by printing scriptures with its woodblocks, is the dharma-jewel temple; and Songgwang Temple, which has turned out a large number of revered monks, is the sangha-jewel temple.

Dazzling Procession through Seoul

On the second day of the pilgrimage, a celebration was held at Jogye Temple in Seoul, where a lively atmosphere was created by a fusion-style performance of prayer chants and verses from the “Great Dharani Sutra” adapted to up-tempo, contemporary music. The 2011 Millennial Anniversary of the Tripitaka Koreana, which is slated for September, is not just a religious event confined to the Buddhist community but a nationwide festival for all of Korean society. As such, the recent celebrations involved a number of public figures from various social sectors. For example, Ceferino Valdez, Paraguayan ambassador to Korea, has been named a goodwill ambassador for the upcoming festivities, and Lee Hee-ah, the “four-fingered pianist,” has also participated in the activities.

As bugles blared, the procession then Venerable Uicheon, a prince and national preceptor of Goryeo, departed from Jogye Temple. At Insa-dong, where local residents and foreign tourists remarked that the compilation of the Tripitaka was the “task of packed the streets on that Sunday afternoon, people applauded and cheered on sending the wisdom of our millennium to another millennium of the the marchers, each holding a replica woodblock. The crowds were busily clicking future.” The Goryeo people’s accumulated knowledge and away with their mobiles and cameras, while technology of the past thousand years have been infused into the young children gaped at the ox-drawn carts carrying the replica woodblocks.

Tripitaka and passed along to us, a thousand years later.

The Seoul segment of the procession featured added participants who were not part of the ceremony at Haein Temple. This the Tripitaka Koreana woodblocks. This is such a vast colorful pageant included official escorts, armored soldiers, civil and military collection that, if you read one book a day, it would take officials, and porters carrying woodblocks on their backs, together with ox carts 18 years to read them all. The shelves in the two deposiloaded with woodblocks and a farmers’ band. Passing through Insa-dong, Jongtory buildings, Sudarajang (Storage of Sutra) and Beopno 2-ga, Cheonggye 2-ga and Cheonggyecheon-no before heading to Gwangtong bojeon (Hall of Dharma Jewel), are crammed tight with Bridge, the procession filled the downtown streets of Seoul with a colorful vibranthe countless woodblocks. To describe this immensity, cy. The participants paraded smartly for two hours despite the summer heat and which cannot be easily grasped, it has been calculated sunlight. And all this time their faces were serene, as if consoled by the woodthat if stacked vertically, the woodblocks would reach a block scriptures. height of about 3,200 meters, and if laid end to end, they would extend over a distance of some 60 kilometers. In The Pilgrimage’s Grand Finale The event’s final day, on June 20, featured a reenactment of the ancient delivtotal, the woodblocks weigh over 280 tons. ery of the woodblocks to Haein Temple from Gaegyeong Port in Goryeong CounThe carving of the woodblocks began in 1236 and was ty, North Gyeongsang Province. It is known that the woodblocks had been procompleted 15 years later in 1251, requiring the equivaduced at the Tripitaka Directorate (Daejang Dogam) and its branch office, but it lent of some 1.3 million man-days for the mammoth

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The ceremony at Gaegyeong Port. It is believed that the Tripitaka woodblocks, produced in various locations, were transported using wooden boats to this port, which was the river landing closest to Haein Temple.

remains unclear exactly how and when they were transported to the temple. However, there is no doubt that the woodblocks were transported via Gaegyeong Port, long known as the “Tripitaka Port.” In those days, wooden boats would have been the most practical means of transporting such a massive load, while Gaegyeong Port was the river landing closest to Haein Temple. Accordingly, the final-day event began on a cargo ship moored at the port.

The cargo ship was similar to the grain transport ships of the Joseon Dynasty, which brought the rice harvest from the southern provinces to Seoul. The performance at the river wharf was meant to portray the unloading of the woodblocks from the cargo ship. ThereK o r e a n a ı A u t u mm 2 0 1 1

after, the procession, with the same participants as in Seoul, marched to the stone monument that was built recently to commemorate the historic role of this port in the transport of the Tripitaka woodblocks. At the monument, the significance of the pilgrimage was again noted, while as a final act of the performance, the governor of Goryeong presented the authentic woodblock to the governor of Hapcheon.

The procession to Haein Temple was resumed at Gilsangam, a hermitage nearby the temple. The leafy trees along the road cast cool shadows over the participants, who looked refreshed as they took in the cool air and listened to the marching band. Along the mountain path from Gilsangam to Haein Temple, which runs parallel to Hongnyudong Valley, the cool shade and murmur of water flowing down the valley gave the marchers a measure of relief from the summer heat.

Finally, the pilgrimage ended as the procession entered the temple grounds through the One Pillar Gate and the original woodblock was returned to the depository. The abbot and all participants then gave three cheers, marking the successful conclusion of the three-day event. From afar, a bell rang softly as dusk fell over the temple, while a wind chime under the eaves tinkled in the gentle breeze. As night approached, the depositories of the Tripitaka woodblocks settled back into the mountain temple’s age-old tranquility.

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Books & More Kim Hak-soon Journalist

English Translation of Abridged Classic of Joseon Scholar ‘Admonitions on Governing the People’ Written by Jeong Yak-yong, Translated by Choi Byeong-hyeon, Berkeley University Press, 1174 pages, $95.00 (hardcover)

“Admonitions on Governing the People” (Mongmin simseo ), the master-

It is said that Ho Chi Minh, the Vietnamese leader who was widely

work of the Joseon Dynasty scholar Jeong Yak-yong, has long been consid-

admired for his forthrightness, kept a copy of “Admonitions on Governing

ered one of Korea’s greatest classic texts. Indeed, in a public opinion poll it

the People” at his bedside.

was ranked as the No. 1 “must-read” book for all Koreans. In a word, this

With the publication of the first English translation late last year, “Admo-

book serves as a guide to local governance that discusses the rules, regula-

nitions on Governing the People” can now be read worldwide by English

tions, and virtues essential to governing the public, as well as the mindset

readers. Translator Choi Byeong-hyeon, professor of English language and

required of those in positions of authority.

literature at Honam University, has long felt that the book was “a true clas-

In writing this work, Jeong sought to promote the improvement of local

sic, on the same level as Plato’s ‘Republic.’” Choi is pleased with the pub-

government in particular and reform of the political system overall, through

lication: “Now that Jeong’s work has been published in English, it can take

an increased focus on public welfare. With the application of logic and truth,

its rightful place as a world-class text.”

Jeong digs deep into the issues and customs of his day, and after identi-

Because the original text spanned 12 full volumes, it was necessary for

fying the specific source of an ill, he suggests a remedy. His love for the

Choi to abridge the enormous work into a single book. That said, the book

Korean people, his integrity and humility as a scholar, and the detailed and

still amounts to some 66,000 words on 1,174 pages. The overall project took

exhaustive nature of his administrative recommendations — the intensity of

a full decade, with seven years spent on translation and another three on

Jeong’s efforts for self-cultivation is evident on every page.

editing, refinement, and publication.

The single most important virtue for a public official, according to Jeong,

Professor Choi’s English translation of Yu Seong-ryong’s “The Book

is “integrity.” He writes: “Integrity is the duty of the governor, the source of

of Corrections” (Jingbirok ), which was published by Berkeley in 2003, has

good, and the backbone of virtue; without integrity, one cannot govern prop-

been used as a textbook for Asian studies and Korean studies courses

erly. A leader who covets wealth will soon affect those under him, and soon

at Michigan University, Ball State University, and the University of British

everyone will work solely toward accumulating wealth. This is nothing more

Columbia. Among other projects, Professor Choi is currently compiling a

than sucking the very lifeblood of the people, which renders them no differ-

“Glossary for the English Translation of Korean Classics.”

ent from common thieves.”

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Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

Korea’s Natural Wonders Earn Michelin Star Ratings

Music Beyond Music: Cutting-edge Recording Technology Meets Tradition

‘Korea Green Guide’

‘Echoes of the Great Pines’ (CD)

Published by Michelin, 450 pages, 25 euros

31st Productions, 15,000 won

If the “Lonely Planet” series is regarded as the universal go-to trav-

“A few years ago I had the opportunity to attend an early morning

el guide, the “Michelin Guide” can be thought of as the Bible for gour-

service at Songgwang Temple. At the time I thought the temple music

mands and foodies. The globally acknowledged Michelin Guides include

made Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony pale in comparison. When the CD

a Red Guide for information on fine dining, and a Green Guide for a gen-

came out, I bought it immediately, and I was not disappointed.” These

eral range of information on everything from culture and society to his-

are the words of a Korean doctor. “Sounds fantastic!” was the reaction

tory, local attractions, and restaurants.

of John Newton, a world-class recording engineer, CEO of Sound Mir-

This spring, a Korea edition of the Michelin Green Guide was pub-

ror, and winner of numerous Grammy awards.

lished in France, marking the first time for the Michelin series to fea-

Along with being more than a thousand years old, Songgwang Tem-

ture Korea. In May, at a Korea Tourism Organization book launch,

ple is one of Korea’s three greatest Buddhist temples — and now, for

Bernard Delmas, the head of Michelin’s East Asia division, explained:

the first time ever in Korea, DSD 5.0 channel surround-sound technol-

“Michelin operates on the principle that if we provide interesting and

ogy has been utilized to record the music of the temple’s dawn services.

valuable information, our readers will have a good experience.”

It is well known that the dawn service is the most reverential and

The Michelin Green Guide awarded its highest rating of three stars

grand in scope and scale among the various rites and services that

(★★★) to 23 destinations across Korea. The cited attractions include

make up temple life. And Songgwang Temple’s morning service is par-

Seoul’s Gyeongbok Palace, Changdeok Palace, and Bukchon Hanok Vil-

ticularly renowned for its unique sounds. Above all else, the temple’s

lage; North Gyeongsang Province’s Bulguk Temple, Seokguram, Hahoe

service can be described as “musical.”

Village, and Yangdong Village; South Gyeongsang Province’s Haein

“Echoes of the Great Pines” is a significant achievement on several

Temple; and Jeju Island’s Seongsan Sunrise Peak. South Jeolla Prov-

fronts. There are, of course, a number of existing albums of Buddhist

ince’s Seonam Temple, Songgwang Temple, and Suncheon Bay also

services available for purchase. The services of Songgwang Temple

received three stars.

as well, widely known for their exceptional beautiful musicality, have

There are also surprise destinations that earned a three-star rat-

already been recorded and made available on two occasions. Yet this

ing, such as South Jeolla Province’s Maisan Independence Park and

new release is still drawing a great deal of attention. More than any-

Gochang Dolmen Museum. The reason for these high ratings, accord-

thing, this particular release is set apart by the noticeable advance-

ing to Delmas, was: “Foreigners who travel to Korea are especially

ment of its technical sound quality. Usually, recordings for a CD format

interested in things that are uniquely Korean.”

employ PCM (pulse code modulation) technology; however, “Echoes of

Michelin has awarded star ratings to 110 destinations throughout Korea, including a large number of traditional markets. For example,

the Great Pines” was produced with DSD technology, which is a step above PCM.

the Busan Jagalchi Market was given two stars, and the Daegu Chinese

Close your eyes as you listen, and it’s almost as if you’ve been trans-

Medicine Market and Seomun Market each received a one-star rating.

ported to the dawn service at the temple. This CD will bring the sound

And while they may not have been awarded any stars, Seoul’s Gwang-

of each chant, each syllable, into your living room, ringing every bit as

jang Market, various herbal medicine and used car markets, miscel-

clear as the original. Lose yourself in these voices that wake all of cre-

laneous flea markets, and a wide array of other markets are also listed

ation at each daybreak, and, as suggested in the album’s liner notes,

as places worth a visit. Westerners enjoy outings that combine a lei-

you might actually feel closer to nirvana. Listen as you drive, and let it

surely walk with a more laid-back pace of sightseeing. So this might be

calm your soul, dissipating the frustration of a tedious traffic jam.

why certain popular tourist destinations, like Itaewon or Myeong-dong in Seoul, did not make the cut.

The recording and production of this album was overseen by Hwang Byeong-joon, head of Sound Mirror Korea and one of the country’s fore-

The fact that jjimjilbang , or Korean dry sauna, has been mentioned

most recording engineers. Indeed, Hwang was part of the team behind

as a worthwhile and uniquely Korean experience may also come as a

“Grechaninov: Passion Week,” which was awarded the Grammy for

surprise. The guide explains that these places “epitomize the Kore-

Best Engineered Classical Album in 2008. Hwang has declared that

an culture of sharing.” The Michelin Guide also objectively presents

“Echoes of the Great Pines” will be a contender for yet another engi-

diverse information about Korea, including facts about the country’s

neering Grammy. As such, everything from the title to the liner notes

economy, drinking culture, and consumption of dog meat.

has been rendered in English. The album has been released simultane-

Michelin plans to release an English edition of this guide in Novem-

ously in Korea and the U.S.

ber 2011, in addition to the publication of a companion Red Guide on Korea.

K o r e a n a ı A u t u mm 2 0 1 1

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Entertainment

‘I Am a Singer’ Leads TV Entertainment Shows Nowadays, “Survivor” fever is all the rage among Korea’s popular TV entertainment shows. Currently, about 10 “Survivor”-format programs are being broadcast on regular TV channels and cable stations, and this number is likely to increase.

At the top of the heap is “I Am a Singer.”

Lee Young-mee Pop Culture Critic, Adjunct Professor, Sungkonghoe University

“I

Am a Singer” (Naneun gasuda ) is an early Sunday evening program aired by MBC-TV (Channel 11), in which seven singers compete. All contestants are leading singers in Korea, known for their excellent singing ability. Each episode is viewed by a team of judges, consisting of 500 members of the audience, in five age groups ranging from their teens to their fifties. The judges observe the singers perform in a studio concert and then vote for their favorites. The singer receiving the least number of votes after two rounds of competition is eliminated from the contest. In addition to the basic search to identify the most popular singer, the program offers “reality show” entertainment by showing off-stage scenes of the singers, who draw lots for the “mission” songs that they are required to sing, and rearrange and practice the songs, as well as scenes leading up to their performance on stage.

A Reflection of Korean Society It is clear that Korea’s “survival” programs are modeled after popular TV shows abroad. But their popularity is not borrowed; local appetite for these programs is clearly homegrown, as can be seen by looking closely into the changes taking place in contemporary Korean society. From 2001 to 2006, various “Survivor”type competition programs were aired, but they did not arouse such a feverish response then as today. The fact that they did not gain much popularity 10 years ago, but now there are 10 such shows that all enjoy strong viewership, reveals noteworthy changes in the Korean public’s attitude and social psychology.

Around 2000, TV programs tended to promote causeoriented campaigns with an entertaining style. “Exclamation Mark!” was a good example. Encouraged by this program, people acquired a renewed interest in reading, while small libraries were built in various areas, and attention to Korea’s cultural heritage was reawakened. Around that time, Korea was recovering from a serious economic downturn, the so-called IMF crisis resulting from

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the 1997-1998 Asian financial crisis. Under the newly launched Kim Dae-jung administration that came to power in 1998, the public supported collective efforts to overcome the crisis, even contributing their gold jewelry to help rebuild the country’s capital reserves, in an outpouring of civic nationalism. In this environment, TV programs associated with public-purpose campaigns appealed more to viewers than Survivor-type shows. Public opinion even supported the abandonment of programs that ranked popular music.

From 2003, a new type of entertainment program, which combined education with knowledge exploration, became popular. A typical example was “Sponge,” an “infotainment” variety show that focused on little-known audience-contributed trivia, which would be presented in an entertaining manner. Such programs stimulated viewer curiosity and offered solutions to problems through quiz contests, discussion, and demonstration events. “Sponge” was soon followed by “Vitamin,” a program featuring popular entertainers in a game-show examination of scientific knowledge related to personal health, exercise, and a healthy diet, and “Maldaliza,” which offered instruction on the finer points of the Korean language. This kind of learning environment was influenced and inspired by the new administration of Korea’s youngest president, Roh Moo-hyun, an intellectually curious and largely self-educated leader, who emphasized reading, discussion, and education.

Consequences of Extreme Competition As for the popularity of survival reality shows since 2010, the contemporary Korean social psychology has played a key role. These TV shows reflect Korean society as it is today, in which people engage in extreme competition, even though this does not involve a sense of hatred or malice toward others. In recent years, people have come to live in a society defined by the most intense and extreme competition ever experienced in Korea. Thus, viewers have taken a liking to “Survivor”-inspired entertainment, immersing themselves in a vicarious experience of undergoing cycles of emotional highs and lows, tension and relief, survival and defeat.

“I Am a Singer” is certainly deserving of its widespread popularity as a competition that features the top professionals in their respective fields. There are other similar programs in which singers and entertainment figures compete, for example, in singing opera arias, sports dancing, or even figure skating. But there are few, if any, consequences for the competition “losers.” In “I Am a Singer,” however, this is not the case. Here, the singers compete directly against each other in their own professional areas. Being voted out can thus deal a terrible blow to their image and future careers. They might say that it does not matter how they end up being ranked, but the fear of rejection is palpable, causing considerable angst.

They therefore practice strenuously to perform at their best, sometimes overexerting their emotions and voices. Despite years of experience as professional performers, they are known to fall into a state of utter exhaustion, almost unable to walk without assistance, after each performance, or withdrawing after one or two sessions due to illness.

For now, Koreans seem to love these kinds of shows, since they themselves live in a society of extreme competition and thus can have empathy toward the performers. Stressed out, hurting inside, viewers can commisserate with the performers, which serves as a form of therapeutic outlet for themselves.

Finally, Korean pop music fans are again interested in singers with powerful and vibrant voices. From middle-aged viewers with vivid memories of talented singers of the past and dissatisfied with the so-called girl/boy bands these days, to teens who are familiar with only the flashy images and elementary music of pop entertainment, Korean audiences have an opportunity to appreciate and recognize exceptional singing talent, beyond mere stage personality or electronically enhanced vocals. We will now have to see if Korean pop music takes this experience as a step in a new direction.

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Gourmet’s Delight

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he world over, different variations of the pancake are integral to the local culinary tradition. Global versions include the jian bing and cong you bing (China), okonomiyaki (Japan), blin (Russia), pancake or hotcake (U.S.), pizza (Italy), dosa and uttapam (India), injera (Ethiopia), crepe (France), tortilla (Mexico), and bánh xèo (Vietnam). Diverse ingredients are used to prepare each country’s favorite pancake, which is cooked and eaten in various ways. But what is true in every case is that the pancake is eaten regularly by ordinary people. The pancake’s ubiquity as a street food confirms its popular appeal.

‘Poor Man’s Cake’?

In Korea, the many different kinds of savory pancakes, variations of jeon , have names based on their main ingredient: pajeon (green onion), gamjajeon (potato), kimchijeon (kimchi), hobakjeon (squash), saengseonjeon (fish), and gogijeon (meat). The versatile bindaeddeok , however, is a definite favorite, a quintessential Korean dish, along with kimchi and bulgogi. As in other countries where their traditional pancake is enjoyed by all social classes, bindaeddeok is also known as a food of the common people. As such, its origin is steeped in folklore, with its name thought to be derived from binjaddeok , meaning “poor man’s cake.”

To prepare bindaeddeok, mung beans are soaked and ground up to form a batter that can include meat and various vegetables, such as balloon flower root, fiddlehead fern, green onion, kimchi, and chili pepper. The batter mixture is pan-fried, then served hot in bite-sized pieces that are dipped into seasoned soy sauce. In past times, the pancake would be laid on a plate onto which prepared meat or fish is placed for an offering during ancestral rites or for the dining table on a special occasion. After the event, it would be given to the domestic help. Over time, bindaeddeok developed into a separate dish.

During the Joseon period, whenever there was a serious drought, destitute commoners would gather outside the South Gate to Seoul, in hopes of receiving a handout. On such occasions, wealthy families would take it upon themselves to prepare mounds of bindaeddeok, which was transported to the gate in a cart for distribution to the needy, accompanied by an announcement: “This is alms from the family of . . .”

This was an early form of civic food aid.

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1. A big, thick bindaeddeok emerges golden brown and scrumptious from the griddle at Sun-hee’s eatery. Mixed only with kimchi and mung bean sprouts, the batter made of mung beans is fried in a well-oiled pan.

2. A serving of bindaeddeok at Pyeong­naeok restaurant, mixed with mung bean sprouts, chopped pork, and green onion.

Accounts in Ancient Cookbooks Bindaeddeok is first mentioned in “Gourmet Recipes” (Eumsik dimibang ), written around 1670. This cookbook is known as the first book written on Korea’s local cuisine by a woman in Hangeul, the Korean script. The author, Lady Jang of Andong, writes: “Soak mung beans, squeeze to remove the husk, and

Bindaeddeok

Korean Pancake for Any Day, Any Occasion Bindaeddeok is a favorite accompaniment for practically any kind of Korean alcoholic beverage. It is prepared with mung beans that are ground and made into a thick batter, into which various vegetables, and meat or seafood, are added. The batter is fried in a skillet until golden brown, served hot, and torn or cut into bite-sized pieces, which are dipped in seasoned soy sauce.

Ye Jong-seok Professor, School of Business, Hanyang University | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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grind to make a thick batter. Place a small amount of batter into the sizzling oil of a heated frying pan. Place in the center of this batter some peeled and boiled red beans glazed with honey, and then top with additional mung bean batter. This should be fried until it turns a citron-yellow color.” Unlike the bindaeddeok of today, this earlier recipe produced a sweet pancake.

A similar recipe is found in “Women’s Encyclopedia” (Gyuhap chongseo ) from 1809. The only difference is that this recipe called for honeyed chestnuts, instead of red beans for the filling, and a garnish of pine nuts and jujube dates, as in hwajeon (pancake with flowers).

The bindaeddeok of the past was thus served as a dessert with an attractive garnish.

A recipe closer to today’s bindaeddeok style is finally seen in “The Unbeatable New Korean Cooking Recipes” (Joseon mussang sinsik yori jebeop ) of 1924. However, this bindaeddeok was a high-class dish made with expensive ingredients, like sea cucumber, abalone, and certain mushrooms, noticeably different from today’s much simpler pancake for ordinary people. It is thus reasonable to believe that bindaeddeok has gradually evolved from a high-brow dish for the noble yangban into a staple for the masses.

“A Bindaeddeok Gentleman,” a 1948 hit song sung by Han Boknam, describes how the inexpensive pancake was enjoyed by ordinary people at this time. The lyrics tell about a man who eats and drinks at a restaurant but lacks the money to pay. As he is beaten and thrown out of the restaurant, the gisaeng hostesses sneer: “If you have no money, why not stay home and have bindaeddeok?” This comical scene struck a sentimental and humorous chord with the public.

Mung Bean Qualities Distinctive from most pancake dishes in Korea and other countries, bindaeddeok is made with the mung bean rather than wheat flour or corn meal. The mung bean is highly praised as “the most nutritious of the many seeds, grains, and beans in the world” in such traditional Korean medical texts as “Exemplar of Korean Medicine” (Dongui bogam ) and “Compendium of Materia Medica (Boncho gangmok , or Bencao gangmu in Chinese). Mung beans, of course, are more familiar to many people in the form of sprouts.

1. A stack of bindaeddeok , fresh from the frying pan, tempts passersby.

2. A millstone is used to grind a heap of soaked mung beans.

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On a rainy evening, many a Korean will automatically yearn for the simple pleasure of drinking makgeolli while eating bindaeddeok . The traditional milky-white rice wine is a perfect match with the warm delectable pancake.

According to traditional medicine principles, the mung bean is helpful to reduce fever and to detoxify the body by purging waste matter. Moreover, the bean contains essential fatty acids that are effective for controlling diabetes and high blood pressure, in addition to basic amino acids and Vitamins B1 and B2, which all help to restore one’s physical vitality.

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Rainy Day Craving Bindaeddeok is a favorite accompaniment for practically any Korean alcoholic beverage. An endless variety of side dishes are offered for people to pick on while drinking in a group, a vital custom for social bonding at the Korean table. There is even a popular saying: “Good side dishes make for good drinking.” A typical drinking place will, without exception, offer bindaeddeok as a side dish. Of the many kinds of Korean drinks, the perfect match for bindaeddeok is makgeolli .

Koreans especially relish this savory pancake on rainy days. There are several theories about why this is so. For one, in the agricultural society of the past, people could not work in the fields when it rained, so they stayed at home and enjoyed bindaeddeok, an easily made dish, to pass the time. Also, it is said that the body’s hormones are influenced by the amount of sunshine, while a rainy day would mean an increase in melatonin that stimulates your appetite. Another notion is that, on a rainy day, the lower temperature causes the body’s metabolism to increase, which heightens appetite for fried foods, like bindaeddeok.

Finally, it is also said that the sound of falling raindrops makes people think of the pattering of a bindaeddeok being fried, which leads to its preparation. Indeed, on a rainy evening, many a Korean will automatically yearn for the simple pleasure of drinking makgeolli accompanied by bindaeddeok.

Today, there are numerous eateries in Seoul that are known for their delectable bindaeddeok. Especially popular establishments include Hanseong Restaurant in Nonhyeon-dong, Gangnam, south of the Han River, and Pyeongnaeok in Jeo-dong, Gangbuk, north of the Han River. The Sun-hee’s eatery in the food alley of Gwangjang Market of Jongno 5-ga serves a thick bindaeddeok of an impressive size, based on a recipe that is said to be from Pyeongan Province in North Korea.

At home, you can combine any ingredients with mung bean batter, cook it in a well-oiled frying pan until the outside is crispy, and then enjoy a scrumptious treat that simply cannot be beaten, in terms of ease of preparation and tastiness. Moreover, this form of Korean comfort food can be enjoyed on any day, rainy or otherwise.

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Lifestyle

For the residents of Busan, it is said there are only three kinds of days during the week: the days when the Lotte Giants, Busan’s hometown professional baseball team, won a game; the days when their team lost; and Mondays, when no baseball games are scheduled. This sentiment defines a subculture that has flourished among Lotte fans ever since professional baseball was launched in Korea three decades ago.

Song Young-man President, Hyohyung Publishing Company

Busan Seagulls Passionate Baseball Fans of the Lotte Giants

B

usan’s passion for the Lotte Giants is truly extraordinary. If Lotte is on a winning streak, markets in the city will be abuzz with vitality. But if the team suffers successive defeats, the markets are subdued, with customers neither buying things nor wanting to eat anything. When Lotte once advanced to the postseason series, consumption soared to upward of 150 billion won ($158.8 million), according to statistics. This is, people point out, the “Lotte Giants effect.” A cultural critic once wondered aloud how the Busan folks can get through the long winter days, meaning that he was curious about what they would live for during the Lotte Giants offseason.

The passionate legions of boisterous fans of the Lotte Giants are known as Busan Seagulls, after the title of a popular ditty they have adopted as their fight song. In any weather, they jam-pack Sajik Baseball Stadium, the team’s home field, in the city’s Dongnae District, sporting bright orange vinyl trash bags knotted on their heads. Their every roar, loud and infectious, is a familiar ritual during Lotte games, bringing to mind a kind of religious cult. Buoyed by such avid enthusiasm, Lotte is known to typically finish first in exhibition games in spring, if not in the playoffs in autumn. This gives rise to an affectionate lament from the stands: Bom-tte! and Sibeom-tte! This is meant to note that Lotte tends to perform well only during exhibition (sibeom ) games in the spring (bom ).

‘Born Fans’ Lotte Giants fans are often compared to “born Christians.” They will flock to the ballpark to root for Lotte, generation after generation, like the children who are born into Christian families (motae ), baptized, and attend their parents’ church. This fervid loyalty is proclaimed, proudly, in signs the Lotte faithful carry with them to the Sajik ballpark, many of which read: “Motae Lotte! ” The phenomenon is rooted in Busan’s baseball-loving tradition, which has been cultivated by generations of “Grandfather Seagulls” and “Father Seagulls.”

At the peninsula’s southern tip, Busan is very close to Japan, while Tsushima Island is closer to Busan than to Fukuoka. As such, terrestrial TV broadcasts from Japan could be viewed clearly in Busan until the early 1990s. In this way, Japan’s baseball fever and baseball players’ techniques were readily transmitted

1. Lotte Giants slugger Lee Dae-ho has set a world record with home runs in nine consecutive games.

2-3. Lotte Giants fans turn the stands into a sea of orange with their signature head gear: orange-colored plastic trash bags knotted into floppy fanciful shapes, which have become essential devices for cheering on their team.

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to Busan, where one high school after another launched a competigiving rise to an epithet of “Lotte fanatics,” due to the frenetic support tive baseball program. of Giants fans for their home team.

Accordingly, Kyungnam High School, Busan High School, Busan Lotte also won the league championship in 1992. Although the Commercial High School, and Kyungnam Commercial High School team finished third in the regular season, Lotte enjoyed a stelwere able to attract talented students, who went on to become lar playoff series, for which the entire city of Busan turned out to national and regional leaders. Baseball became a touchstone by bask in the glory of their team’s magical success. The Lotte home which the city of Busan came to define its identity, while a love of games attracted a record 1.2 million spectators, an unimaginable baseball spread among local residents, who are characterized by attendance level at that time. During the series, other outstanding their exuberance and competitive pride. The Hwarang Flag NationLotte pitchers, Yoon Hak-gil and Yum Jong-suk, also stormed their al High School Baseball Championships, sponsored by a regional way into the Busan Seagulls’ hearts. When the “first-generation newspaper in Busan, did not take a back seat to any national baseBusan Seagulls” emerged, the cheering of fans was rather crude ball championships held in Seoul. The schools in Busan were indeed and monotonous, showing less than gracious behavior toward visithighly regarded during the golden age of Korean high school baseing teams. Despite life’s ups and downs, these fans were more conball in the 1970s-80s. cerned with their team’s performance on the field.

In 1982, during a dark political period, the authoritarian leaders sought to provide an outlet for the people’s pent-up emotions, which Following a Slump, a Savior Arrives Lotte’s winning ways waned for several years, then recovered led to the launch of a professional baseball league. Busan enthusibriefly when the team finished as runner-up in 1995 and 1999. In the asts were finally given a chance to vent their energy at Gudeok Base1999 playoffs, Lotte was matched against Samsung. On the brink of ball Stadium, a ballpark in Busan that was the original home of the elimination, with one win and three losses, Lotte won three straight, Lotte Giants, from 1982 to 1985. each by the same score of 6-5, causing Busan to explode in a frenzy.

Back in 1979, only three years earlier, the residents of Busan had But this dramatic triumph turned out to be the prelude to a dismal taken to the streets, alongside those from the nearby city of Masan, decade for Busan baseball at the start of the new millennium. to express their vehement opposition to the dictatorial rule by PresiFor four straight years after 2001, Lotte fell into the league celdent Park Chung-hee, while the people of other regions chose to lar, suffering an unprecedented string of losses in which the team remain silent. Today, people will compare Busan’s passion for the Lotte Giants to the staunch loyalty of their Gwangju neighbors to the Haitai Tigers.

When the Lotte Giants were eliminated from the 2010 postseason playIt is said that baseball is all about offs, rumors circulated that Jerry Royster, the team’s manager, would be pitching. A stadium packed to the rafters with passionate team partireplaced. So the Busan Seagulls, the team’s devoted legion of supporters, sans would grow as hushed and still as a temple when the home team’s raised funds to run a newspaper ad that urged: “Let Royster stay!” pitcher took the mound. And then, all of a sudden, the crowd would erupt finished in “8-8-8-8-5-7-7” place in the season standings, from 2001 in a frenzied pandemonium. This behavior reflects a popular steto 2007. This was enough to cause many fans to turn their backs on reotype of the Busan resident, of having a seaman’s temperament, the team. In one Lotte game in 2002, the crowd included a total of 69 due to the fact that Busan is the country’s largest port and maritime spectators, an all-time low. In despair, Lotte fanatics would lament: city. As such, the city’s geographic location, the winning tradition of “God gave the worst team to Busan, but thankfully, allowed the city its high school baseball, the social outlet provided by its professional to have the best-ever fans.” They began to refer to their beloved Lotte baseball team, and the local seafaring environment have all contribGiants by a self-deprecating nickname: Kkol-tte , after kkoljji (cellar uted to the Busan people’s embrace of the Lotte Giants as truly their dweller or tail-ender). own. Thus from the first generation of Busan Seagulls, pride in the Enter Jerry Royster, a former major league player from the U.S. team and their city went hand in hand.

As the first foreigner to be hired as a baseball team manager in In 1984, the third season of professional baseball in Korea, a legKorea, he was brought in to revive the moribund team, along with endary pitcher of the Lotte Giants, Choi Dong-won, became a homean import ball player, Karim Garcia. For the disheartened Giants, town hero. During that regular season of 100 games (currently the Royster was a godsend, instilling the team with a fearless courage league plays a regular season of 133 games), he recorded 27 wins. and boosting their morale. As for the outfielder Karim Garcia, who He then helped his team to win four games and capture the 1984 had played with the New York Yankees, he brought valuable experileague championship. His outstanding performances electrified fans,

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Foreign baseball fans reveal their enthusiastic support for the Lotte Giants.

ence to the Giants clubhouse. His signature antic of breaking a bat in half over his knee after a strikeout was an instant hit with the Lotte players and fans, who had been wallowing in a state of self-pity. Thanks to the “Royster effect,” Lotte advanced to the postseason in Royster’s first season.

For the first time in a long while, the team advanced to the playoff series for three consecutive years, brightening the skies for the Busan Seagulls.

Thereafter, the Seagulls took on a new personality. The Lotte fans’ cheering routines at Sajik ballpark became more creative and surprisingly, given their history, more inclusive. Baseball fever infected the entire country when the Team Korea finished third (2006) and second (2009) at the World Baseball Classic, along with winning the baseball gold medal at the 2008 Beijing Olympics. This momentum drove ballpark attendance to new heights, which now included a growing number of female fans.

Eye-catching splashes of color, placards with catchy messages, and attention-grabbing slogans transformed Sajik ballpark into a kind of sports wonderland. Outdated cheering routines were replaced by free-wheeling and interactive styles. Even foreign spectators would wear the trademark Busan Seagulls headgear: bright orange garbage bags knotted into floppy bows or other goofy shapes.

Following the cue of self-designated cheerleaders, the whole stadium erupts with shouts of: Mah! (“Don’t do it!”), Sserira! (“Hit it!”), and Ah Jurah! (“Give the ball to the nearest kid!”).

Now such scenes are not only seen at Sajik ballpark in Busan, but also Jamsil in Seoul and Munhak in Incheon. This is the result of rabid groups of Busan Seagulls who follow the Giants team when they go on the road and stage their unique performances at ballparks around the country. Whether their team is winning or losing, Lotte Giants rooters are always high spirited and cheerful. Their ardent enthusiasm has rubbed off on other teams’ fans, giving rise to energetic crowd interaction throughout the ball game. The pop song “Busan Seagulls,” which has become the anthem of Lotte fans, rouses the crowd wherever the team plays, turning ballparks into what someone has described as the world’s largest karaoke venue. Ask any Busan native about their passion for the Lotte Giants and they are likely to say it’s their life and joy.

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Loyalty and Obsession With the approach of the baseball league’s postseason, the streets around Sajik Baseball Stadium turn into a camping ground as Lotte fans pitch tents or spread mats on the ground, waiting in long lines in a desperate effort to get any available tickets, again revealing a maniacal zeal.

But the Busan Seagulls’ passion for Lotte is a double-edged situation. In good times, Lotte games are another step in the quest for the “holy grail.” But in bad times, it can be as though they are forced to “drink poison.” When Lotte was beaten in the 2010 playoffs, rumors circulated again that Lotte’s manager was about to be replaced. So Busan Seagulls raised funds and ran a newspaper ad, urging the team’s owners: “Let Royster stay!” This was an unprecedented show of support as fans are not known to involve themselves in a team’s personnel affairs.

The post of Lotte head coach is said to be both a blessing and a curse. In the Internet era, baseball fans constantly scrutinize and judge a manager’s every strategy and players’ performance. Lotte often appears to be overly aggressive and even reckless in its game approach. Some critics even say the team is too physical in its play.

But others praise the team for its dedication and sportsmanship, which earns respect for the Lotte Giants.

But any team will end up losing if it adopts a faulty strategy.

Busan Seagulls are enjoying a renaissance as the Lotte Giants have advanced to the postseason in the past three consecutive years.

Moreover, the Busan Seagulls are eager to see Lotte players repeat slugger Lee Dae-ho’s amazing feat last year, when he set a world record by hitting home runs in nine consecutive games in nine days.

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Journeys in Korean Literature

How can “I” live in this cave called Seoul? How can I overcome my fear of confinement and of losing my way?

The short story “Guide to Seoul Cave” is a fine example of the way such questions serve as the starting point for Kim Mi-wol’s fictional works.

Kim Mi-wol

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Guides to Pathless Ways: The Fiction of Kim Mi-wol Lee Kwang-ho Literary Critic

“G

uide to Seoul Cave” is also the title of the first collection of short stories by Kim Mi-wol (b. 1977), published in 2007. The story deals with the isolation of today’s individuals, cut off as they are from the mainstream of society. Her first full-length novel, “The Eighth Room” (2010), uses humor and warmth to depict the development and frustrations of young adults living in our modern-day world — in that problematic space known as “room.”

The individual characters in Kim Mi-wol’s fiction are narrowly confined beings. Yet, these are not the same individuals as those of the 1990s, who were portrayed as withdrawn into themselves, apart from the mundane sphere. Instead of interacting with others, these contemporary individuals establish relations with objects in odd ways, experience different lives internally, and even create a kind of virtual paradise for themselves. As a result, what is depicted in Kim Mi-wol’s fiction is not an inner restoration of identity but rather a “new individual” living in a world of personal fantasy.

Kim Mi-wol’s literature suggests an obsession with private paradises; but, at the same time, it shows that they are not necessarily withdrawn from reality. In this sense, the spaces representing such paradises do not involve a comprehensive, Utopia-style fantasy; rather, they are minimal private realms. In a paradoxical sense, they can be thought of as a kind of “minimal paradise.” A minimal paradise is the personal fantasy formed by a generation that has been frustrated from any possibility of attaining a collective Utopia through social relationships with others. This virtual paradise is concealed within everyday reality, yet it is not located beyond the spheres of violence and falsehood that are part of the real world. It is neither a symbol of communal bliss nor a space of utter dystopia. Instead, it is a space located within ordinary time, inhabited by the individual’s memories and physical presence, an exterior realm of internal memory and reality. This still falls within a possible meaning of “paradise” since it comprises a minimal possibility of achieving one’s personal desires, yet does not lie beyond the “here and now” that involves the body and mind.

“Guide to Seoul Cave” well illustrates the typical starting point Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

of Kim Mi-wol’s fiction. There is a “cave” that represents a kind of virtual space. A social misfit, whom we can only slowly identify as female, is living in Room 203 of the Seoul Gosiwon study rooms. The gosiwon consists of a series of tiny rooms with cramped spaces, “in which more than forty people must each be lying in a hook-shaped position.” Early on, the place is described as “total chaos,” and at times its dark corridors are like an “unexplored cave.” The firstperson narrator “I” works at an artificial cave; “my” task is to serve as a guide for the Seoul Cave Exploration Center, leading groups of primary-school students through a rough imitation of a cave, dressed in spelunking gear. The structures of the gosiwon’s “cave” and this Seoul Cave where she works are very similar.

Short of breath and suffering digestive problems, the narrator’s symptoms are linked to a dual set of memories. One involves a glimpse of a drowned woman lying on a seaside beach holding a dead little girl in her arms; the other is an experience of panic at “what could only be termed total darkness” after losing her way while exploring a real cave as a university student. But underlying both memories is the image of her own mother, who we finally learn died trying to rescue a little girl that she thought was her daughter, but was actually someone else’s child. The pharmacist’s assistant, who sells her medicine for her indigestion, lives in the room next to hers, and every evening emits groans “thick like mayonnaise”; in the course of a brief encounter with her, “I” learns something of her truth. Unlike what others imagine, she spends her evenings watching videos featuring a character who looks like a man that she remembers. Finally, when accused of stealing drugs and sacked from the pharmacy, she disappears from the gosiwon. With rooms so close together, and separated by only the thinnest partitions, the gosiwon isn’t a space conducive to communication with others.

How is this “I” going to survive in the cave that is Seoul? Is it possible to escape from the dread of this confinement and losing your way? The artificial cave is structured in such a way that the entrance and exit are both the starting point and end point. The way into and out of the gosiwon similarly consists of a single glass door. Is escape K o r e a n a ı A u t u mm 2 0 1 1

from such a space ever possible? At the end of the story, “I” is faced with a question: “What should one do if the red and green lights of a traffic signal are both off?” That is an echo of the question at the start of the story: “If you’re standing at a crosswalk where the red and green lights are both on, what are you supposed to do?” Of course, the answer is either “1) You don’t cross, or 2) You just cross over” — one or the other. No matter what, there is no other option than “to cross or not to cross.” Such is the structure of the cave called Seoul.

In a space where the exit is the entrance, the word “way” can have no real meaning, since only one way can exist. Then in such an enclosed space as this, there can be no sense in seeking a way, and the role of a guide as a “person who shows the way” is certain to be a falsehood. Therefore, the job of “I,” as a guide for the Seoul Cave Exploration Center, is a deception. In the scenes depicting the hollowness of the notion of seeking a way, the story expresses, in a cool, collected manner, the critical situation facing those who live in the cave called Seoul. A cave is often a symbol of narrowness, enclosure, and constriction, but in this story, by a superimposition of the images of “virtual world” and “today’s Seoul,” the cave is transformed into a symbol of “pathless” modernity.

As she depicts the “rooms” of the new generation of young adults, confined and frustrated with respect to society, Kim Mi-wol portrays the minimal paradise of today’s isolated individuals. That minimal paradise is not a place that comforts them in their loneliness; rather, it is a place that enables them to embrace the fact that solitude is inescapable. She shows that their loneliness is not a mere attitude but life’s reality, and at the same time she creates a truly meaningful existential aesthetic of youth. Not so much suggesting that humanity means a resolute will to overcome unhappiness, she rather depicts an individual’s struggle to attain a modicum of inner autonomy by means of detachment and indifference. Here, the individual is not a strong character who confronts the world boldly, but someone able to establish a minimal realm of autonomy. Thus, Kim Mi-wol’s work shows in a strikingly exquisite manner a kind of “active passivity” that serves as another existential aesthetic of contemporary fiction.

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efore I was born, the world was there with its unchanging indifference. I look in on that world through the blue. After I am gone, I know that the world will still be there as indifferent as ever. I look out on the world beyond in the blue — the color of a life consumed by the flames of futile passion, its ashes scattered about in the air. In this blue, where there is no cause for joy and no cause for sorrow, I will no longer exist.

“Man was not born to live forever — so I must say. Thus one inevitable, inexorably approaching day, the universe will become an empty place where he does not exist.

The civilization he built and the victories he reaped will vanish with him. His beliefs, his doubts, and his justifications will disappear, and nothing of his will remain. And many things will be formed and then die.

Different forms of life will appear and different thoughts will spread out over the world. Then they will return to a formless existence shared by all.” (J.M.G. Le Clézio) The kings of Silla have lain silent in a long sleep over 1,500 years. Embracing the seeds of unknowable silence within such massive mounds, their graves have now become eternal waves that slowly wax and wane in time with the rhythm of the distant mountains. Time crumbled with age and on its own turned into blue. The tall upright trees stand in a thick circle, looking on indifferently at the blue and eternal waves. They seem to testify: “And yet the world will always remain there with something. Some substance — some imperishable substance — will still exist in the farthest space and time that we can imagine.” Then there will awaken in the blue a consciousness.

The Blue and Waves of Eternity Kim Hwa-young Scholar of French Literature Kang Woon-gu Photographer

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