Koreana Summer 2011 (English)

Summer 2011

Korean Culture & Arts

vo l. 25 n o . 2

Special Feature Sum m er 2011

Jeju Island Jeju: The Past, Present and Future Praying for Mercy of the Goddess of Wind In Search of the Jeju Horse

ISSN 1016-0744

v ol . 25 n o . 2

Born of Volcanic Lava The Rapture and Sorrow of Jeju Island

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Kim Byung-kook Kim Sung-yup Lee Kyong-hee Cho Sung-taek Han Kyung-koo Han Myung-hee Jung Joong-hun Kim Hwa-young Kim Moon-hwan Kim Young-na Dean Jiro Aoki Lim Sun-kun Teresita M. Reed Cho Yoon-jung Kim Sam Lee Duk-lim Kim Ji-hyun Kim’s Communication Associates

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS Summer 2011 Published quarterly by The Korea Foundation 2558 Nambusunhwanno, Seocho-gu, Seoul 137-863, Korea

Waves of reeds swaying in the wind along the coast of Jeju Island. brm1a-018h, 2002 © Bae Bien U Calligraphy © Kang Byung-in

sea1a-051h, 1999 © Bae Bien U

Welcome to the New Look Koreana!

The Summer 2011 edition of Koreana features new design elements. The redesign has been undertaken in an effort to heighten the publication’s appeal to its broadened readership. The editorial staff has been considering a variety of improvements for some time, which I believe should now be implemented.

Since its inauguration in 1987, Koreana has become a flagship publication of the culture and arts of Korea in the global community. At the time of its launch, just ahead of the 1988 Seoul Olympic Games, it was a sheer delight for the Korea Foundation and its editorial staff to introduce to the world the richness of Korea’s cultural and artistic resources.

Over the years, the interests of readers as well as the aspirations of those involved in the publication of Koreana have naturally evolved and matured. The redesign is thus an initial step toward satisfying a wider spectrum of readers around the world. Koreana will continue this renewal process so as to create a more attractive publication for readers in terms of its content and visual appeal. In this regard, we always welcome your valued comments and suggestions. Thank you for your continued interest and readership.

Lee Kyong-hee Editor-in-Chief

Special Feature

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Jeju: An Overview

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Born of Volcanic Lava: The rapture and Sorrow of Jeju Island Evolution of Jeju

Jeju: The Past, Present and Future

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Choi Sung-ja

Shaman Rituals

Praying for Mercy of the Goddess of Wind: Yeongdeung Shaman Rites

Kim Yoo-kyung 28

Feminist Heritage

Legendary Strength of Jeju Women

Heo Yeong-seon

Horse Breeding

In Search of the Jeju Horse

Kim Yoo-kyung

Gourmet’s Delight

Exploring Jeju’s Savory Delicacies

Choi Sung-ja

A Foreigner’s View

Moving to Jeju: A Personal Account

Werner Sasse

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Heo Yeong-seon

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Focus 1

Korea Rediscovered! German Museums Exhibit their Korean Treasures Focus 2

Seoul’s New Cultural Icon Brightens the Day of Passersby

Koh Mi-seok

Art Review

‘Tears of Heaven’ A Vanguard of Korea’s Budding Musical Industry

Discovering Korea

My Voyage in Korean Literature

Won Jong-won

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Charles Montgomery

Interview

Hwang Doo-jin’s ‘Rainbow Rice Cake’ Architecture

Robert J. Fouser

On the global stage

Retrospective at the Guggenheim ‘Lee Ufan: Marking Infinity’

Jung Hyung-mo 60

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on the road

Bukchon: Delightful Glimpse into the Seoul of Bygone Days

Kim Yoo-kyung

book Reviews Kim Hak-soon

Ancient Portraits Provide Glimpses of Korea’s History and Culture

‘Great Korean Portraits’ by Cho Sun-mie

A Scientist’s Cultural Account of Trees: ‘There Is a Story Hidden in Every Tree’

‘The World of Korean Trees’ by Park Sang-jin

The Last Collection of Essays Bequeathed by ‘The Storyteller of Our Time’

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‘The Road Not Taken is More Beautiful’ by Park Wan-suh

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Maya Stiller

lifestyle

Youths Fall In to Join the Marine Corps

Kim Dang

journeys in Korean literature

Critique: Quiet Harmony of Shade and Space Taengja by Yoon Dae-nyeong

Bok Do-hoon

Š The Dong-A Ilbo

Special Feature Jeju: An Overview

Born of Volcanic Lava The Rapture and Sorrow of

Jeju Island

Sunrise view from the summit of Mt. Halla.

Climb up to the top of an oreum and look out at the vast open sea and Mt. Halla. The winding ridges of the mountain and the oreum, the rounded thatched-roof houses and the coastline, the valleys, the meandering stone walls around the fields, the round tombs — Jeju is a land of graceful curves.

Heo Yeong-seon Poet | Sou Jea-chul Photographer

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A reflection of the Mt. Halla summit in the ocean waters surrounding Jeju.

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he black mountain ridges writhe. Clusters of oreum awaken, ready to gather and rush off somewhere. This is how dawn breaks on Jeju.

The wind and light live together on Yongnuni Oreum. Pure white Grass-of-Parnassus flowers sway to and fro. The fields are filled with wildflowers. People call these rolling hills that bulge up out of the flat land oreum . Jeju Island is home to more of these parasitic cones than anywhere else in the world. You could climb one a day for a year and still have more to see.

Mt. Halla and Oreum Here and there, the larger oreum include modest traditional tombs, surrounded by stone walls.

Here it seems that the end of one life is the beginning of another. The stone figures of young boys, covered with the moss of ages, have become friends of the deceased. Those who made the statues and carved the sublime expressions which capture the happiness and sadness of humanity must have been nameless residents of the island.

From afar come the calls of a herder rounding up his horses. Cows roam as they graze on the meadows. Oreum are home to vegetable gardens, offering bracken, wild greens, and medicinal herbs, and comfort to the weary. These age-old land-

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Baengnokdam, a volcanic lake in the crater of Mt. Halla, greets the arrival of spring.

forms were strongholds during the struggles of the island people, and a resting place for those who had lived out their lives.

The wind on the oreum does not slumber easily. It is delectable, filled with the salty scent of the sea. Climb up to the top of an oreum and look out at the vast open sea and Mt. Halla. The winding ridges of the mountain and the oreum, the rounded thatched-roof houses and the coastline, the valleys, the meandering stone walls around the fields, the round tombs — Jeju is a land of graceful curves.

Nearby Yongnuni Oreum you can find Darangshwi Oreum, the queen of them all. On a bright, moonlit night, the moon is cradled in its crater. The oreum, like a woman’s ample breasts, like women lying down or hunkered over. The deep, sunken craters are the wombs of the earth, which contain all creation and all destruction.

Jeju is a land of light. The light and wind atop the oreum create unimaginable color. The photographer Kim Yeong-gap was so enraptured by this incredibly dazzling light that after a visit he ended up settling here. For a long time, he would gaze out mesmerized by the light of the oreum and the light of the earth that flowed over Yongnuni Oreum. The oreum of Jeju, fil-

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© Jeju Special Self-Governing Province

Abu Oreum is an example of the 360 or so of Jeju’s oreum, or secondary cones, spawned by Mt. Halla.

tered through his unique sensibility, can be seen at the Kim Yeong-gap Gallery in Samdal-ri. There, you can feel the spirit of his photography, martyred at a young age to the island’s natural environment.

The road to Sara Oreum, which passes Sanjeong Lake, is the way to Mt. Halla. The path up the mountain, which begins at Seongpanak, sparkles with the crimson of maples, the green of broadleaf trees, and the bright red of Kamatsuka berries.

For the residents of Jeju, Mt. Halla is a life force as well as the foundation of their imagination. Seen from above, it is like a plush carpet. Halla, the mountain from where you can reach out and touch the Milky Way. If you lie down and look up at the heavens, the stars come pouring down. It is a mountain of myth, a maternal mountain. A lonely mountain, but one that comforts all who come within its sturdy embrace. It is a mountain that stands up to typhoons and to external pressure, protecting all those in need of comfort.

Think what we have there. Large boulders embrace the trees, and the trees embrace the boulders. Such places where rocks and trees are intertwined are called gotjawal . They are primeval forests, manifesting Jeju’s unspoiled character.

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Yeongsil on Mt. Halla, where autumn colors adorn its fascinating cliffs and rock formations.

Nowhere is the wilderness instinct stronger. Jeju, a volcanic island that burst forth in a pillar of flame two million years ago.

The swift yet steady lava has left its traces everywhere. Camellia Hill in Seonheulgot also bears the mark of fire. This gotjawal is a treasure trove that brings forth the essence of life. It is here that the lives and history of the people of Jeju have been shaped. Here, they made charcoal, picked berries, and cut down trees to build homes, sheltering all sorts of rare plants, roe deer, and other living things.

So it is with the path up Geomun Oreum. This ancient forest speaks: “You humans are part of nature too, so take after the ways of nature.� It tells us to be humble. Here we must walk more slowly, working our way along the forest path with heads bowed respectfully.

A Geological Park Jeju, a single dot on the ocean. Unlike the Mediterranean or other oceans, the ocean here cries out with all its being. How can the color of the water look so different from one village to another? It changes from indigo to sapphire, deep blue, and even inky black.

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© Jeju Special Self-Governing Province

Yongcheon Cave, one of the nine caves of the Geomun Oreum lava tube system, is a world-renowned cave that features the characteristics of a limestone cave as well as a lava tube.

(UNESCO World Natural Heritage and World Geological Park)

On a day thick with fog, the melancholy melody of a shaman song drifts plaintively on the Jeju seas. The song has a more somber tone than even the black rocks of Jeju. The sound of prayers for the souls of those lost at sea, and for the well-being of those who rely on the sea. In the second lunar month, Grandmother Yeongdeung, the wind goddess, arrives on the wind.

Jeju is a paradise for 18,000 deities. Mt. Halla, the ocean, caves, and every village are permeated with mythic roots. As if to speak for this kingdom of the gods, each village maintains a shrine, where the villagers perform rituals.

The beauty of the island has been created by the wind and the waves. Beyond Soesokkak, in Seogwipo, the coastline of Oedolgae, the coastline of Daepo-ri, and the seaside cliffs of Yerae-dong draw exclamations of wonderment. They were born of Jeju’s volcanic creation. They are the traces of lava flows stopped in their tracks. The land of the volcano, Jeju is an island of fire. Carved into layers, marked by the wind. They are the masterpieces of the gods, shaped by the wind and the waves.

It is exhilarating to stand before the stone pillars (jusangjeolli ) that rise straight up out of the ocean. Long, long ago, when the volcano erupted, it spewed forth molten lava. And then the lava writhed and flowed like a red river down to the ocean, its

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Š The Dong-A Ilbo

Koreana

Jusangjeollidae is a wondrous coastal sight formed by the island’s volcanic activity.

tears stopping as soon as it met the water. The power of the lava produced the celebrated natural attractions like Mt. Halla, the lava caves of Geomun Oreum, and Ilchulbong, or Sunrise Peak.

The entire island of Jeju is a geological park. Stone cairns, stone dikes, tomb embankments, salt fields. The basalt riddled with holes is filled with the wind. The people of old cut these rocks and shaped them into items for use in everyday life.

Volcanic formations in the shape of all sorts of animals, rocks with faces like people, and the age-old folklore of Jeju; the place to experience this is the Jeju Stone Park. It is a garden of myth imbued with the legend of Grandmother Seolmundae, the giantess who created Jeju Island, and her 500 sons. Time there flows slowly. Those in a hurry would be better off not stopping by.

Splendor of Mt. Seong and Suwol Peak Mt. Seong offers such a magnificent sunrise that people pay homage to the breathtaking scene here. A mountain that exploded out of the ocean! Mt. Seong is even more graceful when seen from a distance, rather than up close. Its majesty is even greater when seen from above.

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Mt. Seong’s Seopjikoji, a promontory that juts out into the ocean, is one of Jeju’s most attractive coastal sights.

And yet, why do sad eyes gaze upon the rugged coastline of Mt. Seong’s Sunrise Peak? To gain a true picture of this island, you have to learn about its scars. Only then will you realize why this island, covered with brilliant yellow rape flowers under the spring sunshine, is so entrancing; why the camellia flowers are even redder than its once molten lava.

Jeju Island has withstood various upheavals. Such was the fate of an island located in the center of Northeast Asia. On the coast of the Sunrise Peak is a series of cave openings. These are the Jinji Caves from the Japanese colonial period. The people who had been forced to carve out these openings were the powerless residents of Jeju.

Six decades ago, the island was caught up in the vortex of the April 3 Uprising (1948-1954), a tragedy of modern Korean history. One of the bloodiest tragedies rooted in the ideological clash between leftists and rightists after liberation from Japan, the uprising led to the most horrendous sacrifice of human lives from April 1948 to the winter of 1949. At one time, countless refugees sought shelter on Mt. Halla. None of the wondrous sights of the island was spared the carnage. The Jeju April 3 Peace Park is dedicated to these memories.

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Mt. Sanbang, rising high above a broad plateau, is a volcano without a crater. (UNESCO World Geological Park)

The road to Mt. Songak is also steeped in the wind of that history. Even today, the hangars built during the Japanese colonial period hug the ground with their gaping maws. Seodal Oreum is marred by scars of the uprising in April 1948. If you stop and lower your head, you might hear the labor songs of those who endured a harrowing life here on this dry and crumbling volcanic ash soil, long trapped in nature.

Finally, we arrive at the wind-swept Mt. Songak. From here, where even the blades of grass find no rest, we can see Jeju’s brother islands, Gapado and Marado. To see more pristine islands, you must depart from Jeju. Within Jeju’s territory lie the islands of Biyangdo, Marado, Gapado, Chujado, and Udo. The sorrow of Jeju Island can be traced back to the independent state of Tamna during the Joseon period. To the locals, Jeju was simply a harsh, arid land. It was a lonely island, where even the little that they had would be plundered by Japanese pirates from time to time. The Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) used Jeju as a place of exile. The punishment for felons who escaped the death penalty was exile to Jeju. But through the exquisite scenic beauty of the island, the isolation of the exiles

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An aerial view of Mt. Seong’s Sunrise Peak shows that the flat crater covers the entire islet. Scholars regard this peak as a “world-class textbook for aquatic volcano research.” (UNESCO World Natural Heritage and World Geological Park)

was sublimated into art. Kim Jeong-hui, a late Joseon scholar and celebrated calligrapher, who was forced to live in exile on Jeju for nine years after being victimized by political strife, is a notable example.

At twilight the oreum turn back into sleeping black mountain ridges. At Chagwido, the glow of the setting sun is bewitching. Standing atop Suwol Peak, a world geological park at the western end of Jeju, the setting sun seems to question you.

About the life you have lived, the life you are going to live, and what it is you have lost.

So, to heal yourself and to find inspiration in your life, throw everything aside and come to this island. You will feel the vibrant energy of the island. Wherever you look on Jeju, your eyes meet the horizon, Mt. Halla, and oreum. The twisting Olle trail, Saryeoni Woodland Path, the coastal routes, the stone ways... those who have walked these paths know just how blessed Korea is to have Jeju Island. It draws no attention to itself yet possesses all forms of beauty; a symphony of the south, a land of rapture and sorrow that has survived through wind and rain. A hidden yet dazzling island of black rock, Jeju should be treasured by the world.

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Special Feature Evolution of Jeju

Jeju: The Past, Present and Future Jeju, the southernmost island of Korea, is only an hour’s flight from Seoul. This volcanic paradise features a pristine natural environment and is also a free international city.

Choi Sung-ja Journalist | Suh Heun-gang Photographer

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eju greets visitors with its unique appearance and distinctive ocean scent for each season. The towering summit of the 1,950meter-high Mt. Halla is visible from anywhere on the island, while the scent of the surrounding ocean is always adrift on the wind.

The island’s volcanic activity created its landmark oreum (parasitic cones), as well as its fields and coastline. Strangely shaped stones spark the imagination. These stones have been used to create the Jeju Stone Park on a site of some 300 hectares. At this park, with its display of rare stones and stone artifacts, you can experience the myths and legends behind the island’s stones. It presents other aspects of the local stone culture than the familiar stone walls found all over the island.

The largest island in Korea, Jeju forms a rough oval shape stretching 75 kilometers from east to west and 41 kilometers from north to south. It is located off the southernmost coast of Korea, lying between China and Japan. The four seasons are distinct, but the climate is temperate. The temperature rarely falls below zero even in winter, except at the summit of Mt. Halla. With Mt. Halla at its center, the island is a treasure trove of subtropical, temperate, and cold-climate plant life, and a paradise for butterflies and insects. It is a habitat for some 8,000 species of plants and animals. Various types of seeds have been carried to the island by the Kurushio Current and Taiwan Warm Current, like the Poison Bulb, which is native to Africa but can be found growing on the Jeju coast.

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© Jeju Special Self-Governing Province

Walking the Olle Trail Walking the Olle trail on Jeju Island is all the rage these days. Olle is a native Jeju word that originally referred to a path along a low basalt wall, which served as a windbreak, leading from the street to the house. The door of a traditional thatched-roof house on Jeju would

1. Jeju Sculpture Park 2. Media art exhibition hall in the basement of Tadao Ando’s Genius Loci.

3. Tadao Ando’s Glass House is designed to allow visitors to take in views of Mt. Seong’s Sunrise Peak, the surrounding seas, and vast expanses of meadows in a single glance.

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open onto an olle path. These paths that once connected neighbors now connect villages and cities, meandering past fields and rice paddies to reach the sea. Along the Olle trail, visitors can leave behind the hustle and bustle of everyday life and immerse themselves in the island’s natural environment. “The air and water of Jeju are great because they’re so clean,” said a smiling hiker.

The Olle trail was created by the journalist Seo Myeong-suk, whose hometown is Jeju. She was inspired by the El Camino de Santiago pilgrimage course in Spain. Thus far, 18 routes have been opened, each covering about 15 kilometers and taking an average of 5-6 hours to walk. The system connects coastal paths, alleys, mountain trails, field paths, and even lava tubes, and goes around a small island. The Jeju Olle World Trekking Festival will be held in November.

Recreation and Eco-tourism Jeju Island, blessed with a marvelous natural environment, is a world-class tourism and vacation destination. The local economy is centered on its tourism and green-growth industries, with the latter being focused on water resources. In 2010, the island attracted some 7.5 million tourists from home and abroad. This is 15 times its resident population, which stands at 500,000. Today, people from some 180 nations can visit Jeju without a visa.

Overseas visitors to the island include Americans and Europeans, but most are from nearby China and Japan. These days, Jeju bustles with Chinese tourists, who can fly to the island from Beijing or Shanghai in only an hour and a half. The Chinese are said to be buying up tourism facilities and land on the island these days.

Park Yung-soo, president of the Jeju Tourism Organization, explains: “The Americans mainly come to enjoy the natural environment and relax on the beaches, while German and French tourists enjoy the geological characteristics of Jeju as a volcanic island, and seek to explore or engage in eco-tourism. Koreans, Chinese, and Japanese are always on the go, venturing into every nook and cranny of the island.”

To gain a better understanding of Jeju’s history and culture, tourists may visit its myriad museums, including the Jeju Folklore and Natural History Museum, the Jeju National Museum, and the Haenyeo Museum. After learning about the history and culture of Jeju’s women divers (haenyeo ) at the Haenyeo Museum, you can head to the coast and observe the divers gather shellfish from the ocean floor.

A two-kilometer tunnel dug by the Japanese during the colonial period is the centerpiece of the War History Museum. The Hendrick Hamel Memorial Hall is a ship that has been restored to commemorate the bookkeeper of the Dutch East India Company who was

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1. Mario Botta’s Club House Agora takes the form of a glass pyramid.

2. Itami Jun’s Church of Sky is said to be the architect’s impression of Noah’s Ark 3. Itami Jun’s Podo Hotel, inspired by Jeju’s oreum and traditional thatched-roof houses, features curved roof lines.

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Americans who visit Jeju mainly come to relax on the beach, while German and French tourists seek to explore or engage in eco-tourism. Koreans, Chinese, and Japanese are always on the go, venturing into every nook and cranny of the island.

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marooned on Jeju along with 36 crew members in 1653. He eventually returned to his homeland in 1668. The record of his experiences on Jeju was the first book to introduce the geography, customs, and commerce of Korea to European readers.

Geomun Oreum: Birthplace of Lava Caves

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These days, travelers tend to favor eco-tourism at natural attractions. I thus set out to see Geomun Oreum. This parasitic (secondary) cone was created during volcanic eruptions. The area is now home to a lush forest. Hong Seong-pyo, a curator at the War History Museum during the week and volunteer guide on the weekend, said: “The lava that flowed out of the crater followed the valley floor for 14 kilometers.

This lava formed Manjang Cave, Gimnyeong Cave, and Yongcheon Cave. Geomun Oreum is the birthplace of Jeju’s lava caves.” The volcanic rock from this lava flow is full of moisture. The trees here send their roots down not into the soil, but into the lava rock.

Manjang Cave, known as a “work of art created by lava,” is the world’s longest cave at 7.6 kilometers. In 2005, a telephone pole on the roadside disappeared into the ground, leading to the discovery of Yongcheon Cave. The cave contains a lake, about 800 meters in length, that is home to fish whose vision has been impaired by the darkness.

Charcoal and pottery fragments from some 1,400 years ago have also been found, providing evidence of human habitation. In 2007, this cave, which had captivated geologists from around the world, was included among Jeju’s lava tubes and caves that were designated as UNESCO world natural heritage sites.

Local Water Industry Water has always been scarce on Jeju, which sits on porous layers of basalt. The earthenware water jars exhibited at the Folklore and Natural History Museum symbolize the hardship of local women who used them to draw water from artesian springs. The underground water that so much vexed the women of Jeju in the past is now a valuable resource that has given birth to a thriving water industry. Jeju’s “Samdasu” brand of aquifer water is a kind of Korean version of Evian.

Jeju Governor Woo Keun-min will offer his guests Samdasu water, rather than coffee or tea. “Samdasu is pumped up from 420 meters below the surface. Rain that falls on Mt. Halla passes through dozens of layers of volcanic basalt to finally reach a water table, a journey that takes over 18 years,” he said. Every day, the Samdasu plant in Jeju City can process 2,100 tons of water, which has passed inspections of the U.S. FDA and Japan’s Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare. This water is exported to the United States, China, Japan, and Indonesia. It is refreshing and slightly alkaline, with natural minerals.

1. Itami Jun’s Duson Art Museum 2. The interior of Itami Jun’s Water Museum.

3. Jeju Governor Woo Keun-min treks the Olle trail with Kathleen Stephens, the U.S. Ambassador to Korea.

4. The horses grazing on Jeju’s grassy hills are irresistible photo subjects for island visitors.

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“Jeju’s mineral water is of world-class quality. We have plans to create a water industry cluster that includes a hydrotherapy center and producers of specialty liquors, health drinks, and cosmetics,” said Governor Woo, underlining his commitment to make Samdasu a global brand. “Next year, we will be launching a premium ‘Jeju Beer’ made with Jeju barley and Samdasu water.”

Free International City Jeju Island is undergoing change, quietly but steadily. Like blossoming flowers, structures designed by world-class architects have emerged along the 258 kilometers of the island’s coastline, with attention paid to harmonizing with Jeju’s natural environment. Phoenix Island in Seogwipo is home to the Club House Agora by the master of geometric architecture, Mario Botta, and the Glass House and Genius Loci by Tadao Ando, who favors a minimalist style. Itami Jun’s Stone Art Gallery, Wind Art Gallery, Church of Sky, and Podo Hotel can be seen on other areas of the shore. The North London Collegiate School Jeju, of the Jeju Global Education City, which is scheduled to begin classes in September, has also been designed by Itami Jun. Jeju Global Education City is an ambitious project that the local authorities are actively pursuing, along with the development of its medicine and health care industry. By 2015, plans call for the completion of 12 international schools, an English education center, and related facilities in an area of Seogwipo that is designed to attract a population of 23,000. It has been confirmed that England’s North London Collegiate School and Canada’s Branksome Hall will operate schools here.

Jeju is also fostering the MICE (Meeting, Incentive, Convention, and Exhibition) industry in order to become one of the top 25 international convention cities in the world. “Jeju Island has hosted the 2009 ASEAN Summit, the 2010 China-Japan-Korea Summit, and a dozen other summit-level meetings, along with a total of 147 international conferences last year,” noted Governor Woo. The 2012 World Conservation Congress is also scheduled to be held on Jeju. Some 10,000 participants, including international environmental experts and political leaders, will meet to discuss the global environment.

“If you visit the Grand Canyon you simply see an awesome natural spectacle, and only a chosen few can climb up and witness the beauty of Mt. Kilimanjaro,” said Governor Woo. “But on Jeju Island anyone can experience the culture and beauty of our picturesque natural setting, and feel the beauty of nature in the lives of the local people.” The provincial government’s slogan is: “The World Comes to Jeju, and Jeju Goes to the World.” Indeed, Jeju is open to the world, offering its many charms.

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1. The Jeju Stone Park tells the history of the island’s formation and its stone culture.

2. Jeongbang Waterfall, where the Legend of Xu Fu originated.

3. A unique icon of the island’s folk culture, rustic Stone Grandfather (dol harubang) images catch the eye of visitors to the Jeju Stone Park.

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© Jeju Special Self-Governing Province

Legend of Xu Fu and ‘Brain Art Meditation’ There is a local Jeju legend about the Chinese emperor Qin Shi Huang (259-210 B.C.). It tells of the court sorcerer Xu Fu (Seo Bok), who was dispatched by the Qin emperor to find the elixir of life at Mt. Yeongju (Mt. Halla), one of the three sacred mountains where the immortals were said 2

to live.

According to this legend, to comply with the orders of Qin Shi Huang, Xu Fu climbed up Mt. Yeongju with thousands of boys and girls in search of the elixir. When he arrived at Jeongbang Waterfall, he was so captivated by its beauty that he carved “Xu Fu passed by here” in the rock face, and then headed west. The name of Seogwipo city is said to be derived from this inscription.

The Xu Fu Galler y, opened in 2003 above the western cliff of Jeongbang Waterfall, is rooted in the legend of Xu Fu’s exploits. At the entrance, a stone monument reads “Xu Fu Park,” car ved from the characters written by Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao.

The legendary quest for longevity lives on today in the discipline of “brain art meditation.” Every year, some 3,000 visitors from places like the United States, Canada, Japan, Germany, Russia, and Hong Kong, come to experience a meditative journey that has been led for the past 10 years

by Lee Il-chi, president of the Korea Institute of Brain Science (KIBS), at the Health and Longevity Theme Park of the Jeju Korean History and Culture Park.

Brain art meditation involves traditional Korean meditation and exercise practices, such as gi exercises, hypogastric breathing, and meditation techniques. The goal is to discover yourself and to heal your mind. Lee believes in the legend of Xu Fu and the sought-after elixir that is related to the “three nothings” for which Jeju Island is famed: no thieves, no doors, and no beggars.

Jeju Governor Woo Keun-min believes that the elixir of life that Xu Fu sought is from the Korean Dendropanax (Dendropanax morbifera ) tree, which is said to have a pharmacologic agent effective for anti-aging. Governor Woo has also agreed to utilize 3D-imaging equipment to investigate the 23-meter-high and 10-meter-wide cliff near Jeongbang Water fall, where Xu Fu was said to have made his inscription.

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Special Feature Shaman Rituals

1. Shaman Kim Yun-su dances with ritual swords in both hands.

2. Haenyeo burn paper offerings to appease the dragon king and pray for the safety of sea-faring villagers.

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Praying for the Mercy of the Goddess of Wind: Yeongdeung Shaman Rites

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The goddess of the wind rode in on the west wind and stopped off at Jeju Island. The islanders, who rely on the sea for their livelihood, gathered to pray: “Please sow bountiful seeds in the fields of the ocean.”

Kim Yoo-kyung Journalist | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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n the second month of the lunar calendar, which usually falls in mid-February to mid-March, the windswept island of Jeju is often gripped by a fickle cold. This time is known as “Yeongdeung Month” on Jeju Island, which marks the visit of Grandmother Yeongdeung, the goddess of the wind. At this time it is customary for residents to suspend all regular activities: fishing at sea (including the haenyeo women divers who gather shellfish from the ocean floor), moving house, home repair, travel, and even wallpapering.

UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage To the east of Jeju City, on the slope of Sara Peak, stands Chilmeori Shrine, one of the many shrines dedicated to the various shamanic deities of Jeju Island. Chilmeori Shrine was originally located near the harbor piers, but when a new road was built it was moved to its present location. During this process, the shrine’s accessories were lost, so now only three spirit stones have been placed side by side in Sarabong Park.

To the Jeju residents, who make their living from the sea, the wind is an element that controls their lives and livelihoods, such that shamanic rituals are regularly held at seaside villages to pray for safety and abundance. The Yeongdeung Rites at Chilmeori Shrine (Chilmeoridang Yeongdeunggut ) constitute a representative ritual to promote the community’s well-being. It was designated an Important Intangible Cultural Property by the government of Korea in 1980, and an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO in 2009.

The ritual consists of three separate parts: a welcome rite, a fare-

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well rite, and another rite held on Soseom (Udo), or Cow Island, where Grandmother Yeongdeung is said to stay over for one day before returning home.

The Yeongdeung Welcome Rite, held on the first day of the second lunar month, is a rather simple rite performed indoors at a fish market. The Yeongdeung Farewell Rite, held a fortnight later, is the grandest of the three rites, in which many people participate, including the haenyeo, fishing boat owners, and local residents. The final rite, held on Soseom, is usually slated for a time when travel to the island can be dangerous, so the residents of Soseom will often carry out the rite on their own.

Ritual for the Sacred and Secular At nine o'clock in the morning on March 18, the Yeongdeung Farewell Rite began in an open area ringed by black pines near Chilmeori Shrine. Long streamers in five colors, banners held aloft on tall bamboo poles, and pieces of paper in five colors on the altar fluttered in the wind. The hourglass drums, gongs, and special brass drums that are used in Jeju Island rituals all sounded at once, announcing the start of the proceedings.

Shaman Kim Yun-su, wearing a scarlet robe and a black hat with a peacock feather, began the rite by dancing and telling a story. Twentytwo men and women from the Yeongdeung Rites Preservation Society, including Lee Yong-ok, performed the musical accompaniment.

Also present were several hereditary shamans from longtime shaman families.

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In front of the folding screen, set up between the spirit stones, were some 30 tables, large and small, each covered with ample food offerings provided by the haenyeo, fishing boat owners, and village residents. While the tables looked much like those for any typical shamanic ritual, they included various items unique to the Yeongdeung Rites: round and flat glutinous rice cakes, boiled eggs, rice wrapped in white paper for the dragon king, and the fruits of the Jeju seas, including abalones, top shells, and octopus.

Lead participants in the rite, such as the haenyeo in white skirts and jackets, and the families of fishing boat owners, raised their 2 cups of liquor and bowed deeply before the altar. “Look, the candles burn steadily even in the wind,” someone whispered. A high stack of white paper comprised the list of the shaman’s regular clients who prayed for good fortune.

On a rope strung high in the air pieces of paper were attached bearing the names of various deities to symbolize their presence at the rite. Another rope displayed the names of those who had donated money and material, including the Cultural Heritage Administration, and government officials like the local governor and those from the Fishery Cooperative, along with others related to fishing boats, haenyeo, seafood businesses, local residents, business owners, karaoke bars, dance troupes, publishing companies, traditional musical groups, and drama troupes. A few 10,000-won bills were hung beneath each name.

The rite was an exquisite melding of the sacred and the secular, of gods and money, of seriousness and lightheartedness. A few Japa-

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nese visitors were there as well, earnestly observing the entire proceedings as they sat on mats. One of them, worried about the aftermath of Japan’s earthquake and tsunami a week before, said, “I just pray that Japan does not founder.”

Significance of the Rites “The rite begins by opening the storage chest that holds the spirit tablets of the deities,” said the shaman Kim Yun-su. “After all, it is only when the cover is opened that the deities can come out to participate. There is a dance for opening the cover, and a dance for checking inside the chest. First, I invite the deities to attend the ritual, then I check to make sure that no deities are left behind, and I help to seat them. I recite the history of the rite and entertain the guest of honor, Grandmother Yeongdeung, to the best of my ability with the food offerings, along with song and dance. Then I ask for a bountiful catch and pray that she take away all misfortune when she leaves.” He added: “It is a ceremony not unlike that held to receive important guests of state today. We even engage in negotiation, discussing what to give and what to take.”

Shaman Kim danced around the area with various objects in hand, such as a ritual sword, bamboo, incense burner, and cup of liquor.

As the tempo reached a breathtaking pace, so did the shaman’s footwork. Kim Jeong-ja, a spectator who has obviously seen the rite many times, commented: “He doesn’t make big movements when dancing, but his footwork is quick and light. He also has a good singing voice.”

In fact, Kim was awarded the President’s Prize at the 1990 National

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1. To carry away misfortune, an ogre dances with a torch in his hand.

2. Ritual banners flutter in the wind.

3. A scene from the “old man’s play,” the finale of the Yeongdeung Rites.

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Folk Arts Content for his performance of Seoujetsori (native folk song and dance of Jeju), while leading a 250-member group. A total of 76 shamanic rituals are performed on Jeju Island, for every one of which Kim has mastered the dance, ceremony, and song. He also performs the initiation ritual for new shamans, which can require up to 14 days.

The Yeongdeung Rites feature a hunting scene, including an archery pantomime, to welcome the general-in-chief, the head deity

the weather is warm, so he has worn loose clothing. They say that when Grandmother Yeongdeung comes with her daughter, the weather is warm.”

Kim went on: “In another part of the rite we sprinkle seeds on the seas so that the fish will be plentiful and to faithfully prepare the way for the dragon king, while encouraging the general-in-chief to leave that way in peace. I sing Seoujetsori two times. The people of Jeju Island sing this song when they work, when they play, and when they are downtrodden. The rite “I entertain the guest of honor to the best of my ability with the food ofends with the ‘old man’s play,’ a secular performance to ward off ferings along with song and dance. It is a ceremony not unlike that held to misfortune.” receive important guests of state today. We engage in negotiations as well.”

Jeju Island shaman songs, which can go on for 30 to 40 minutes, begin with the creation of the of Chilmeori Shrine. The shaman ties strips of cloth around his foreuniverse and then tell the story of Korean history, from ancient times arms and torso to prevent the imaginary bow and quiver from being through the island’s modern history. From ancient gods and legendjostled, while dancing with a bottle of liquor in hand, creating a pasary generals to modern historical events like the Korean War and the sionate and aggressive atmosphere. tragic sinking of the passenger ship Namyeong in 1970, Kim's songs When asked how he communicates with the general-in-chief, Kim are a form of narrative literature. Although the lyrics are difficult to said: “I toss the bottle of liquor to the 3,000 soldiers under his comunderstand, due to the unique Jeju dialect, one message is clear: mand, while pleading, ‘Please be satisfied with this and let me pass.’

“Please take care of us, your descendants.” They are fervently repeatThis is when the spirit enters, so I can’t allow myself to be distracted. ed entreaties for safety on the seas.

I ask him, ‘Will you give us a bountiful catch this year?’ and he replies, Besides a mystical earnestness, there is also humor in the rite.

‘Those who toil at sea will fare better than last year.’ He also says that When the female divers and fishing boat owners burn prayer papers,

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1. A straw boat, filled with various offering items, is set adrift at sea to carry away misfortune.

2. Bamboo leaves are dipped in liquor and then sprinkled about to purify the path that the deities will take to enter the ritual grounds.

3. To greet the general-in-chief, the shaman binds his arms and dances the archery dance, after which he hurls a bottle of liquor so that the soldiers following the deity will step aside.

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the shaman warns: “Don’t set your hair on fire!” Being in touch with reality even as one communicates with the gods is another distinctive characteristic of Korean shamanism. Lee Yong-ok notes: “We know that the gods are watching us from all around, so we concentrate and bow to them with all courtesy, and at those times we feel their weight resting on our shoulders.

Old coins or cups are thrown to see how they fall in order to divine our success on the ocean.”

The participants wait with bated breath to learn which fish would be caught in abundance, and whether or not they would be blessed with good fortune. Here, the power of literature, art, and religion are used to both honor and influence the forces of nature that extend beyond human control.

These days, the number of rituals held on Jeju has decreased dramatically. “Before, the fishing boat owners were all Jeju locals, and there were more haenyeo as well, so we had many more tables for the food offerings. But now, there are fewer haenyeo and the fishing boat owners are mainlanders. Still, now that this ritual has been designated a cultural heritage, people seem to accept it quite comfortably.

I intend to do everything in my power to see that it is preserved,” Lee pledged.

Sending Misfortune Away The next part of the rite is about “getting recognition.” This involves collecting a nominal offering in a basket, but everyone is curious to see what the shaman will say to each person and everyone’s reaction.

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“Oh, you’re a student, 1,000 won for you. That’s OK! The man with the camera, if you don’t ask for recognition your pictures will come out all black!” For foreign guests, a simple “Hello!” or “OK!” will do.

2 The old man’s play, which is meant to carry away misfortune, is a type of traditional outdoor performance. The seven sons of a minister from Seoul play the old dokkaebi , or ogres. The youngest, known as the “Scoundrel Badger,” resides on Mt. Halla and is said to cause disease and stormy weather, while his older brothers come by to take him away. A small straw boat, after being filled with all sorts of offerings, is set adrift on the water with the old ogres. The ogres like pork and alcohol, so these are included in the offerings. This year, two pig heads were featured on the offering tables, and meat from the pigs was boiled to make pork broth with noodles for the spectators.

The old ogres wear white masks, tattered bamboo hats, and black overcoats. They leap into the ritual arena from all directions carrying torches and long pipes, singing and dancing. Then, they put the offerings in the straw boat: white rice, red snapper, flat glutinous rice cake, seaweed, energy drinks, candy, and a pig’s head from the tables.

At six o’clock in the evening, three boats depart from the western pier. At a certain point they hold up the straw boat and throw it into the water. Decorated with cloth in five colors, the boat remains upright and is carried off by the waves. In this way, all misfortune is sent away, along with the greedy ogres.

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Special Feature Feminist Heritage

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eyond the gently waving fields of bright yellow rape flowers heaves the deep blue ocean. With only a gourd for support, haenyeo (women divers), young and old, freely plumb the ocean’s depths.

They are heroines with the sea deep in their hearts. Their life as well as their death is found in that ocean. “When we measure the depth of the deep ocean and dive down one or two body lengths, we pass between life and death,” one of them says. Today, they are the living goddesses of Jeju Island.

The myths and shaman songs of Jeju feature numerous women protagonists. They are the medium that brings Jeju and the outside world together. They also give their bodies over to creation, while

carving out independent lives without reservation. With a strong selfawareness and sense of adventure, the women of Jeju find no need to act cautious or bashful in front of men; they choose their own husbands, and use their courage, wisdom, and ability to react in a flash to save their communities from danger.

Women in Jeju Mythology Grandmother Seolmundae, the goddess of Jeju’s foundation myth, is the creator deity and mother of the island. With her vast bulk and unbounded generosity, she is the goddess who throws open the door to the Pacific. This giantess is so big that if she lies down with Mt.

Legendary Strength of Jeju Women Old silver grass, worn out by the salty air, waves its white hair. On the sea surface, black flippers shoot upward and then suddenly disappear. Whoo! Whoo! The distinctive melody of haenyeo as they catch their breath — the sound drifts off and fades into the wind.

Heo Yeong-seon Poet | Brenda Paik Sunoo, Sou Jea-chul Photographers

1. A work from the Korean-American photojournalist Brenda Paik Sunoo’s collection, “Moon Tides — Jeju Island Grannies of the Sea,” which portrays the everyday lives of women divers of the island.

2. Haenyeo head out to sea to gather the ocean’s bounty.

3. Haenyeo dive deep into the sea without breathing apparatus. They rely on a gourd for a flotation device out in the open waters and a net bag to hold the fruit of their hard labor.

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Halla as her pillow, her feet would rest on Gwantal Island off the coast.

She has the instinctive love of a devoted mother, who while boiling porridge for her 500 sons ended up falling into the pot and meeting her demise. She was bold enough to imagine connecting the island with the mainland. It is said that Grandmother Seolmundae piled her skirt high with earth to build a bridge, but the earth spilt out to create the 360 or so oreum on the island of Jeju.

sense of community mindedness.

The people of Jeju grow up hearing that they “owed everything to Grandmother Man-deok.” In 1794, when a severe famine swept the island, Kim used her entire fortune to buy rice, saving 1,100 residents of Jeju from starvation. When King Jeongjo learned of her generous deed, he told her he would grant any wish of hers. Kim told the king that she wanted to visit Mt. Geumgang (Diamond Mountains). Thus, she became the first resident of Jeju to travel to the mainland and visit the mountain, thereby ending a two-century prohibition that had denied the people of Jeju from visiting the peninsula.

The background of this prohibition is from the early Joseon period, when the men of Jeju took to the sea to fulfill the heavy burden of military service and to provide local tribute to the royal court. They suffered greatly when they were mobilized to man the island’s defensive fortifications or to deliver tributary items (mandarins, horses, and abalone). Over time, a growing number of residents relocated to the mainland to escape this burden. This led the royal court to impose a prohibition against island people from visiting the mainland (1629), and to mobilize women as well for military duty. For this reason, the gathering of abalone, previously done by men, became the work of the haenyeo from the 17th century. The haenyeo had to supply the aba-

Wealthy Merchant Kim Man-deok Like the island goddesses, the women of Jeju possess a sense of self-identity and inner strength that allows them to blaze their own paths in life. In the barren natural environment of Jeju, while struggling to satisfy demands of the royal court, the long-ago women had to perform like superhuman beings.

Jeju’s first known female merchant, Kim Man-deok (1739-1812), not only lived the independent life of a goddess, she was charitable as well. She lost her parents at the age of 12 and was forced to make her own way in life. She fought to rise above her gisaeng (entertainer and courtesan) status by developing a nose for business. She did not give in to her adverse circumstances and eventually succeeded in trade, which enabled her to amass a personal fortune and demonstrate a

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lone they gathered as tribute to the royal court or tax payments to the local government.

Thus the sea became everything to the women of Jeju, as their means of survival and everyday life. They began diving as children and continued to reap the sea’s bounty as they became elderly veterans with exceptional diving abilities. At times, they would put their lives on the line, diving into the treacherous depths to earn their livelihood. Even when they gave birth, they would return to the water after a three-day rest.

Yang, the Diver Away from Home The young haenyeo, who had learned to dive in the waters of their hometown, would often make a living from diving elsewhere during their adult years. They would venture across the seas of East Asia,

from Guryongpo, Cheongjin Port, and Daemado Island (Tsushima), to Taiwan, Qingdao, China, and Vladivostok, Russia.

Haenyeo who left Jeju to dive in Japan in the 1920s formed a social network there. Their lives were infused with the tumultuous modern history of Korea. You can observe their experiences in the documentary film “Ms. Ryan, The ‘Ama’ Diver,” by Japanese director Haramusa Masaki. The heroine of this film, a Jeju haenyeo named Yang Ui-heon, went to Japan to dive and then settled down there after she got married. This woman, who supported her family by diving in the rough seas of a strange land, is now 96 and resides in Ikuno-ku, Osaka.

Some of her seven children moved to North Korea in the 1960s, and she has visited North Korea more than 20 times to see them. Brief meetings, long separations. This mother of the sea, who bears the pain of separation deep in her heart, thinks only of the reunification of

The mythical Grandmother Seolmundae was bold enough to imagine connecting the island with the mainland. It is said that she piled her skirt high with earth to build a bridge, but the earth spilt out to create the 360 or so oreum on the island of Jeju.

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the two Koreas.

Yang continued to dive until she was 80, while learning exactly where to find all the abalone, top shells, and seaweed in the ocean.

She was, of course, once a veteran haenyeo who dove the seas of Dongbok-ri back home on Jeju Island, as well as the waters of southern Japan off Kagoshima, Tsushima, Ehime, and Mie. There are haenyeo who have been diving the waters off Dokdo Island since 1952. “Seals the size of cows would lie on the rocks and then slip into the water.” So say the Jeju haenyeo who played with the baby seals there, who ate so many seagull eggs that they feared seagulls would become scarce, and who ate abalone day and night because of its abundant supply. Only seaweed earned them real money at that time, so the haenyeo of Jeju would make their way to Dokdo for months at a time to harvest seaweed. Dokdo has long been their workplace and is undeniably Korean territory, so they are perplexed as to why Japan should suddenly start a territorial dispute.

Spirit of Resistance The inner strength of the Jeju haenyeo was unleashed during the Japanese colonial period. For two years, from 1931, the Japanese mobilized the people of Jeju to provide forced labor. But rather than

submit to this demand, the haenyeo took to the streets armed with knives. It began as a struggle for the right to survive, but without a staunch spirit of resistance it would not have lasted long. A total of 17,000 haenyeo gathered from around the island to participate in the only struggle against the Japanese led by women during the 35 years of colonial rule. It was also the largest uprising of fishing villagers in Korea. The Jeju Haenyeo Museum tells the story of this incident.

The women of Jeju suffered much tragedy due to the various uprisings that swept across the island. Their pain reached a peak during the April 3 Uprising (1948-1954), which devastated the community of Jeju in an instant. In the midst of this bloody conflict, the women endured the indescribable horror of seeing their sons and daughters killed and maimed. Even then, when they were stripped of everything, they resolved to live on and survive like the wildflowers. By overcoming the harsh winds of Jeju, they acquired an extraordinary resilience.

Bowed as they might have been from every manner of hardship imaginable, they managed to survive and thrive like dignified old trees.

And in this way, these women have grown old. They are the kindhearted Jeju grandmothers you see at the village markets and roadside stalls, out at the sea and in the fields. The same dignity that the women of Jeju myth displayed is possessed by them as well.

1. The famed women divers of Jeju are not only skillful in reaping the sea’s bounty but they also grow crops on land when they are not out at sea.

2. Mt. Seong’s Sunrise Peak forms a backdrop as the haenyeo make their way home.

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Special Feature Horse Breeding

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here are three types of horses on Jeju Island: the Jeju horse (also known as a pony), international racing thoroughbreds, and the Halla horse, a cross-breed of the two. As has always been the case, these horses are not used for the military, transport, or field labor, but are raised for horseracing, recreational riding, and food consumption. Dr. Lee Jong-eon of the National Institute of Animal Science noted: “Ninety percent of the 27,000-28,000 horses around the country come from Jeju, and 70 percent of all Korean horses are raised on the island.”

Origins of the Jeju Horse Jeju Island horses certainly deserve their own page in the history of Korea, and the study of horses. The steeds of Buyeo and Goguryeo have long been known, but the first record of horses on Jeju Island only goes back to 1073, when “fine steeds were sent to King Munjong of Goryeo.” The special capital defense forces of the Goryeo Dynasty resisted the Mongol invaders on Jeju, but they were defeated on the mainland.

Thereafter, the Mongolian Yuan Dynasty of China established a ranch on the island to breed warhorses, thus changing the course of Jeju’s history.

“The arrival of 160 Ferghana horses in 1276, with a large number of Mongolian expert horse breeders, laid the foundation for the ranching system of Joseon in later days,” said Dr. Lee. “The native horses that had been raised on Jeju Island since ancient times eventually disappeared, while the Ferghana horses, through adaptation to the harsh environment of the island, became the small yet hardy Jeju breed of today. We are currently researching ways to raise specialized riding horses that inherit the advantages of our unique Jeju horses.”

The Ferghana horse was a superior breed from Dayuan in Central Asia (Turkmenistan), which was said to be able to run 1,000 li (one li is equivalent to 400 meters) per day, dripping sweat the color of blood. When Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty learned of this horse, he invaded Dayuan, and after a fierce

struggle managed to capture several horses that were taken back to China. For 100 years, beginning in 1276, the horses raised on Jeju were dispatched to Yuan.

Toward the end of the Goryeo Dynasty, during the reign of King Gongmin, Jeju Island again became Goryeo territory when Yuan gave way to the Ming Dynasty in China, which enabled Goryeo to directly manage the local horses. But when Ming demanded the supply of 200 Jeju horses, the Mongolian horse breeders, who had settled on the island, refused to hand their horses over to the enemy. They rose up in rebellion, which led to the killing of hundreds of Jeju officials. In 1374, General Choe Yeong needed a large army to suppress the rebellion.

As I passed by the islet of Oedolgae, I reflected on how General Choe had used this rocky outcropping as a ruse to defeat the rebels. The traces of the general, in connection with the Jeju horse, and General Yi Seong-gye, with whom he was at odds, can be seen from the walking trail, now called Olle, which overlooks this quiet islet. It is said that one of the eight horses ridden

by Yi, founder of the Joseon Dynasty, was a Jeju horse. There is also a record stating that Yi was a warrior so skilled on horseback that “he could ride down a steep cliff on a horse.”

Historical Records of Jeju Horses Jeju was home to 10 large horse ranches during the Joseon period. During the reign of King Sejong in the 15th century, a 200-kilometer-long stone wall, called Jatseong, was built around Mt. Halla to prevent the horses from escaping. The consumption of horse meat was forbidden in order to protect the horse population.

Jeju Island presented 30 horses to the royal court in Seoul, as annual tribute, and to the county magistrate once every three years. If the quality of the horses was not satisfactory, the royal court would dismiss the individual in charge, so the officials on Jeju did whatever necessary to ensure that they selected only the best horses.

In Search of the Jeju Horse The horses that can be seen grazing in herds along the hilly regions of Jeju, at elevations of 200-600 meters above sea level, are an enduring symbol of the island. The abundant grass that thrives in the rich volcanic soil, together with the island’s mild climate and lack of predators, has made Jeju an ideal site for horses and livestock.

Kim Yoo-kyung Journalist | Sou Jea-chul, Ahn Hong-beom Photographers

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“Ninety percent of the 27,000-28,000 horses around the country come from Jeju Island, and 70 percent of all Korean horses are raised on the island.”

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1. Jeju horses frolic on the slopes of Mt. Halla. 2. Painter Yi Myeong-bok’s “Jeju Horse” (acrylic on canvas) 3. Horse driver Kim Wan-bo mounts a horse that he is training for horseback riding.

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It was a privilege to own horses at that time, and a local Hong family recalled how one of their ancestors who “never took a bribe in his life, could not resist the temptation of a horse and ended up being dismissed for accepting one.”

The number of horses raised on Jeju Island reached a peak of about 20,000 during the late Goryeo to early Joseon periods.

Yi Hyeong-sang, county magistrate of Jeju, wrote in his book “An Inspection Tour of Jeju Island” (Tamna Sullyeokdo ) in 1702 that the number of horses owned by the island county stood at 9,372, along with 703 cows and a resident population of 43,515.

Stone Wall of Volcanic Rock After the advent of the automobile, horses lost their traditional function. In 1984, there were fewer than 1,000 purebred horses on Jeju Island, and in 1986 a few dozen horses of proper pedigree were designated natural monuments. Today, according to figures of the Jeju provincial government, the local horse population includes 1,392 Jeju horses (of which 200 are purebreds with registered pedigree), 4,179 thoroughbreds, and 16,692 cross-breed Halla horses, making a total of 22,223. They are raised by 1,157 farm households around the island, and 1,000 are slaughtered every year.

Today’s prevalent horse industries are horseracing and horseback riding, while horse meat is also used for food and horse oil for the manufacture of products like soap. The racetrack has been a particularly effective prescription for revitalizing the Jeju horse. Each year, 80-90 horses with registered pedigrees and implanted electronic chips are raised and trained as racehorses.

The traces of Jeju’s long history of ranching can be found in the Jatseong wall along hilly regions. At one meter wide and one-and-a-half meters high, this two-layer wall marks the boundaries of the former horse ranches. Each district had its own way of building the wall, such that each section has a different appearance. Parts of the stone wall extend deep into the mountains, while remnants of the collapsed wall can be seen at Geomun Oreum, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The Mongolian horse breeders were eventually assimilated into the local population. Jwa Dong-ryeol, who studies the “stock farming rituals of Jeju Island,” made note: “One of my ancestors was a horse overseer and doctor who came here from Yuan.” He suggested that I visit the site of Majodan (Horse Ancestor Altar) in Jeju City, nearby the KAL Hotel intersection.

Rituals would be held at the altar to pray for the horses to multiply, where a monument marks the original site atop a picturesque hill.

Experts who have been trained in traditional animal husbandry techniques to raise and live in close proximity with horses are known as horse drivers. The children’s book “The Last Horse Driver” (Majimak taeuri ), written by Bak Jae-hyeong of

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the Jeju Office of Education, tells the story of 82-year-old Go Tae-u, who has spent his entire life with horses.

The Last Horse Driver “In the old days, every family raised horses, so we took turns rounding them up and taking them to graze in the mountains, where the grass was good. Horse drivers were the professionals who did this, while everyone else simply looked after the horses when their turn came,” said Go. His call to the horses is like a spiritual melody that allows him to communicate with the horses.

I met with Go Gyeong-hyeon and Kim Wan-bo, two horse ranch owners, who talked about horse breeding on Jeju today.

“Even the methods used for raising native Jeju horses and foreign thoroughbreds are different. Jeju horses are tough,” Go explained. “So you can put them out in a snowy field and they will find their own food, but they are only half as fast as thoroughbreds. Thoroughbreds are fast, but not so smart.”

Horse drivers these days do not graze their horses in any area of pasture. Instead, they load their vehicles with food and water for the horses and drive to their own ranches in the mountains. Grazing is now prohibited in Gotjawal, where protected native plants grow on the lava flows. The horses recognize the sound of the owner’s approaching vehicle and wait with their heads upright.

“Riding horses is my specialty, and for generations we have been raising exceptional riding horses. I’m proud of developing a breed that can run at a gallop and then immediately slow to a walk. It’s a cross-breed that has the advantages of both Jeju horses and thoroughbreds,” explained Kim. Even as the rain came splashing down on the ranch, the horses milled about calmly, seeming not to mind. The two ranchers were nonchalant as well, standing there in the rain while tending the horses or checking to make sure they were all in the proper place. “Not more than a handful of traditional horse drivers are left on Jeju Island. We are drivers with a true love for horses,” they said.

There’s no doubt that Jeju’s artists paint, sculpt, and photograph the island horses because of their love for them. “Jeju Horse,” by Yi Myeong-bok, a painter who moved to Jeju Island and opened up the gallery Nori, has the appearance of a wild, untamed person. Yi is now preparing to stage an exhibition on horses.

At the race track, spectators enjoy the thrill of seeing horses gallop by in a flash, their manes fluttering in the wind. A horse that runs at this pace must be rested for two weeks. The Mongolians have once again brought their horses to Jeju Island.

At an outdoor theater they ride 50 or so horses, while showing off remarkable riding techniques. But the horses they ride are Halla horses.

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Special Feature Gourmet’s Delight 1.The meatiest part of dageumbari is served as sashimi (right); the tastiest morsels from the cheeks, under the fins, the dorsal spine, the belly, along with lightly balanced fish lips and internal organs, make up another special dish (left).

2. Grilled okdom (red tilefish) 3. Steamed abalone is an island staple.

4. Seasoned and grilled horse meat. Horse meat dishes are a by-product of Jeju's horse-breeding industry.

Exploring Jeju’s Savory Delicacies

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As those who have visited this popular honeymoon destination already know, seafood is the backbone of the local cuisine of Jeju Island. Yet, sashimi and abalone are not the only delicacies to be found on this scenic paradise. This southernmost island province boasts vast expanses of farmland blessed with a subtropical climate, which enables a variety of produce and livestock to also make their way onto the dinner table here.

Choi Sung-ja Journalist | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

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eafood takes the lead in many of the dishes for which Jeju Island is noted, while coloring a food culture that sets itself apart from that of the Korean mainland. Fresh, glistening, near-translucent slices of sashimi, from fish that have just been caught, is a must for any gourmand, as are stews chockful of abalone boiled up bubbling with various seafood in earthen pots, known as obunjagi haemul ttukbaegi .

Grilled okdom (red tilefish) and galchi (large-head hairtail) melt like butter on the palate. The long, silvery cutlass-like galchi is another soup favorite. A type of seaweed (mojaban , sargassum fulvellum ) is served up in a pork broth that is known as momguk . Sea urchin also brings its salty tang when included in soup dishes.

Those uninitiated to the world of “water” sashimi would do well to try out this Jeju Island specialty by simply dipping their chopsticks into a bowl filled with tender, succulent slices of raw jaridom (pearl-spot chromis), a delicious small fish that resembles sea bream, or hanchi (miniature mitra squid).

I visited several well-known restaurants on the island to take a closer look at these delectable specialties.

Obunjagi Ttukbaegi For those who are unfamiliar with the classic dish known as obunjagi ttukbaegi , it is made with small abalones (obunjagi ) that cling to rocks 20 meters underwater. Seventy percent of the nation’s obunjagi are supplied by Jeju Island.

Horned or spiny turban shells, which are like ocean varieties of escargot, along with shrimp and clams, are added to a stew that is seasoned with doenjang (soybean paste) and gochujang (red pepper paste), to yield a distinctly piquant and refreshing flavor.

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In Yeon-dong, Jeju City, the Yuri-ne Restaurant is famed for its version of this stew dish, as well as its sea urchin seaweed soup, grilled galchi, and “water” sashimi.

The restaurant proudly displays its longstanding and enviable reputation on its walls and ceiling. Many famous figures, including presidents past and present, have come and dined here, then signed their autograph alongside those of many others who have passed through its doors.

The banchan (side dishes) are generous, including bing tteok , which is heaped so high that each diner can enjoy their own pancake, while awaiting the arrival of their meal. Bing tteok is an incredibly flavorful local dish made from a buckwheat flour batter filled with finely sliced, blanched, seasoned daikon radish, which is cooked like a thin pancake and then rolled into a long flute-like shape.

Black Barley Noodles Culinary nostalgia is very much in fashion these days as the focus on healthy living has sparked interest in reviving long-cherished flavors of traditional fare lovingly prepared by our grandmothers and ancestors.

At the Black Barley Noodle restaurant in Ildo 2-dong, Jeju City, the proprietor Kim Jeong-ja was inspired by fond memories of her grandmother’s tasty black barley pancakes. She used black barley rice as the primary ingredient to develop her signature pajeon (green onion pancake), sujebi (hand-torn dough clumps) and noodles.

“The harvest of black barley is much less than regular barley, but it has this wonderful fragrance. It boasts over five times as much dietary fiber as regular barley and is rich in iron, phosphorus, potassium and

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A perception that the island’s cuisine might have something to do with the longevity of its population is shining the spotlight on the health benefits and wholesome influence of Jeju’s food culture.

other minerals, making it helpful in preventing adult diseases,” said Kim. When Kim prepares her barley rice batter, she combines ground potatoes, mountain yam, and mushrooms with water to create a springy texture. For her noodle soup, she makes a clean tasting light broth from kelp, anchovies, and salt. Sea gastropods, another Jeju Island delicacy, imparts a refreshing clean flavor to her sujebi soup.

Horse Meat Delicacies When it comes to meat, Jeju Island is known for its pheasant, pork from black pigs, and, last but not least, horse meat delicacies.

In the past, Korea’s horses were bred and raised on Jeju Island, leading to an abundance of horses and the development of horse meat dishes. It is said that, during the Joseon Dynasty, horse meat, along with abalone and tangerines, would be presented as local tribute to the royal court, which means that it likely was served as part of the king’s sura (main meals).

Horse meat, however, was not restricted to the royalty alone. Common people dined on horse meat as well.

Horse meat was consumed after October, in accordance with the lunar calendar, when the meat was less gamey. Since the meat has so little fat, it was enjoyed as tartare, braised short ribs, or seasoned and grilled. The bones were used to make broth or ground into a powder to treat neuralgia.

Horse meat started to appear on restaurant menus in the 1980s, when tourists who sought out the delicacy began to flock to the island. There are currently more than 40 restaurants on Jeju that serve horse meat dishes.

I dined at the horse meat specialty restaurant

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Jeju Mawon, a spacious traditional hanok located at the Jungmun Resort in Seogwipo. After the seasoned horse meat was lightly grilled, it would be dipped in a shoyu and wasabi sauce. The meat was tender with a clean taste. One thing to note is that if you overcook horse meat, it can become quite tough.

“Japanese guests prefer horse meat as tartare,” said the chef at Mawon. “Chinese visitors generally order a full course meal that includes horse marrow extract, tartare, and cold naengchae (a chilled salad of julienned seafood and vegetables).”

Tangerine Coffee, Tangerine Chocolate The tangerine is Jeju Island’s No. 1 fruit product. Jeju’s sweet and tasty tangerines are grown on the island’s numerous tangerine farms.

Over 20 varieties of the juicy citrus have been developed, including the popular Hallabong and Cheonhyehyang, premium fruits sold at supermarkets throughout the country.

Recently, cosmetics using extracts from the rind of tangerines, along with perfumes and air fresheners, have emerged on the market. Tangerines are also being used to flavor chocolate and makgeolli , a traditional rice wine enjoying a recent resurgence among trendsetters.

The tangerine peel is also used as a medicinal ingredient. For instance, the peel of the jin tangerine variety can be boiled in water to make a decoction for

1. Hallabong is a premium tangerine brand developed on Jeju Island.

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2. Bing tteok, buckwheat pancakes rolled with daikon radish filling.

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Dageumbari Master

Kang Chang-geon “Have you ever tasted such great sashimi?”

For those who have not tried

dageumbari (sawtooth perch/ Niphon spinosus) sashimi, it is difficult to describe just how delicious it really is. It is thus 1

necessar y for you to visit the master chef at his restaurant.

Jinmiga, located in Sagye-ri, Andeok-myeon, Seogwipo City, is the place to go to enjoy

treating digestive ailments, while the cheong peel is used for medication to treat malaria and bacterial diseases.

the finest dageumbari sashimi.

The renowned owner, “dageumbari master” Kang Changgeon, 57, and his restaurant harken back to the early 1990s.

Jeju Island Food Culture

In 1991, when the South Korea–Soviet Union summit was

Visitors can learn about the local cuisine of Jeju Island at the Folklore and Natural History Museum of the Jeju Special Self-Governing Province. In the past, with island life being so basic, food was especially precious. Moreover, cooking methods needed to be simple, because most women worked at sea as haenyeo (female divers) and did not have much time for household chores.

Hence, dishes based on raw ingredients were favored over those that required time-consuming steaming, boiling, or simmering. As a result, the cuisine of the island highlighted the natural flavors of the ingredients rather than the seasonings, resulting in the distinctive characteristics of its local food culture.

These qualities have attracted keen interest because of the current enthusiasm for healthy living and the possible link between Jeju’s food and the island’s reputation for longevity. Jeju is known, among other things, for the large share of centenarians in its resident population.

A demographic survey, conducted in September 2009 of 16 cities and provinces, revealed that Jeju Island had 53 people aged 100 and older.

In short, Jeju has the largest percentage of centenarians, over twice the national average.

A perception that the island’s cuisine might have something to do with the longevity of its population is shining the spotlight on the health benefits and wholesome influence of Jeju’s food culture. Due to this notion, people have come to notice its primary ingredients, which come from clean ocean waters and fields nearby, and the fact that the dishes are cooked quickly, thereby reducing the loss of nutrients.

According to Hyeon Hak-su, a public relations official at the Jeju Special Self-Governing Provincial Government: “We have plans to highlight over 470 kinds of Jeju Island cuisine that are good for your health and longevity.”

held on Jeju, at the banquet in honor of then Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev, Kang served 27 types of dageumbari sashimi. His culinar y contributions to this diplomatic milestone propelled him to national fame.

More recently, Kang was selected for his dageumbari expertise as one of 100 top chefs, from a pool of over 1,000 from 150 countries, to attend the Slow Food Network’s biennial Terra Madre conference in Torino, Italy, in October 2006.

So how does he do it? How does this master chef serve up such delectable dageumbari? Kang mastered the art of dageumbari preparation through his passion and research.

He has created over 30 dishes for dageumbari and also received a patent for his unique sashimi preparation in 2002.

The secret to preparing this prized fish, Kang pointed out, is his “own method of handling the fish and utilizing the knife in specific ways on individual parts of the fish.”

“It is also impor tant to keep the fish fresh after it is caught by placing it in an aquarium,” he added. “I inject oxygen into the tank, keep the water at the right temperature, and play music. If the fish remains motionless in the tank, the meat loses its quality. You need to create wave action like in the ocean to get them to move about.”

When preparing each part of the fish, he explained, the knife needs to be handled dif ferently so that the special flavor of each section can be brought out. Also, when slicing, you need to bend over the cutting board at a 45 degree angle and slice at a 135 degree angle to the board.

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Special Feature A Foreigner’s View

Moving to Jeju A Personal Account Sit down on a rock and take the time to look closer at the colors of the sea — light ochre with green spots of loose seaweed near the beach, turning turquoise or emerald further out, then into different shades of blue, finally ending in a dark steel-colored line at the horizon. When dark rainy clouds come, the same sea will be black, and when the clouds are high and white, it turns silver, not to mention the gold of sunrise and the red of sunset.

Werner Sasse Painter and Koreanist | Bae Bien-u, Sou Jea-chul Photographers

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e feel as if we have lived here forever. The constantly moving sea with its wide horizon is invigorating. The rocky landscape, structured by the characteristic stone walls which are the result of millennia of human effort to make the most of arable land, is a unique sight. And the small walled fields are occasionally interrupted by patches of abundant scrub, mostly hidden where the rainy season’s outpours have cut deep and narrow waterbeds, which are virtually dry most of the year. Above it all towers Mt. Halla, the volcano which gave birth to this paradise island.

‘Sugarmoon’ and Wedding We selected Jeju for our future home while on our “sugarmoon” trip. Koreans have a wonderful way of playing with words and have given “sugarmoon” a special meaning: if “honeymoon” is traveling together after marrying, “sugarmoon” is a trip before tying the knot.

Soon after we arrived on Jeju, within a few days of traveling on the island we had decided that we would give up our beautiful homes on the mainland — hers a quiet mountain retreat in Gyeonggi Province and mine a beautiful hanok (traditional house) in the plains of Jeolla

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Province.

After settling on Jeju as the place for our future life together, we planned to have our wedding here, too. A friend suggested we use the marvelous Jeju Stone Park, which has breathtaking scenery dotted with natural and man-made stone sculptures. Dressed in white modernized traditional Korean clothing (hanbok ) made of special Korean mulberry paper (hanji ), we started the ceremony by performing a meeting scene on a stage atop the Sky Pond, the roof of the underground Stone Museum. Afterward, we changed into traditional Pyongyang-style ceremonial dress and were married in an abbreviated North Korean-style ceremony — a bride from the East and a bridegroom from the West tying the knot in a Northern-style ceremony on Korea’s southernmost island!

Serene yet Dynamic Island When asked what attracted us to Jeju, I can only give a few random reasons, because living in this wonderful place is too complex to explain. First of all, here we have found some basic conditions for the kind of life we want to lead, the general atmosphere being the most

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1. Picturesque sunrise view from Mt. Seong’s Sunrise Peak.

2. Werner Sasse, a retired professor of Korean Studies, who is pursuing his artistic career on Jeju.

hustle and bustle of Seoul and other big cities. Jeju is a “slow island,” not clinging to its romanticized past but eagerly looking forward to the future.

The Light of Jeju

important one. As my wife is an avant-garde dancer and meditation master and I am a painter and a Korean Studies scholar, we both need peace and quiet on one hand, and an active, future-oriented climate on the other. The culture and lifestyle of Jeju wondrously meets these seemingly contradictory conditions.

The people of Jeju still maintain a strong sense of tradition as well as conviction in their cultural ingenuity, distinguished from the peninsula, which results in a marvelously relaxed pace. At the same time, almost ubiquitous are projects run by private individuals or by government agencies to shape the island’s future. Discussions of plans to create a socially and ecologically healthy environment fill the pages of the newspapers and are the subject of numerous meetings. In these projects, the islanders are trying to balance national and international tourism with a sustainable economy and lifestyle.

The main focus of all these projects is education, development of natural/biological products, and medical recreation facilities, rather than distraction-oriented “pleasure parks,” and development of the arts. Jeju, with its clean air, clear water and mild climate, is blessed with the conditions that make possible a lifestyle alternative to the

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Jeju has two faces. You enter this island by air or by boat, normally through its northernmost gateway, which is the city of Jeju, the seat of the provincial government. From here it is an hour’s drive to the southern coastal city of Seogwipo and the resort area of Jungmun.

The road (all roads on the island are well kept) leads to high ground some 800 to 1,000 meters above sea level, where you can enjoy two starkly different but equally fantastic types of scenery depending on the weather — the many volcanic hills, called oreum with an affectionate connotation by the locals, and a few small islands in the distance beyond on a clear day; or the otherworldly, misty woodlands on the mountain, shrouded in clouds on a foggy day. Once you pass over the mountain you have left the somewhat rougher, windier, and slightly cooler northern region; you suddenly find yourself in balmy subtropical surroundings with abundant flowers and vegetation emanating a faint sweet fragrance.

However, there is one element that binds the two regions together: the light. On Jeju the light is much brighter than on the mainland, which I find more than precious as a painter. In Europe, many artists move to the Mediterranean coast, searching for inspiration in its sparkling light. In Jeju, wherever you go you are enraptured by brilliant light. It is no wonder that many artists and craftsmen have made this island their home, permanently or temporarily, to work in its resplendent light — either in studios at Jeoji Artists Village, or at private workrooms tucked away in the mountain valleys, or on the spacious inland plateaus, closer to the sky. Needless to say, the light is more than a medium for artistic inspiration; it is the best medicine for body and soul.

Actually, those coming to Jeju for a short visit, taking one photo after another, here and there, and then leaving after one or two nights,

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have never really been here. They have only seen and touched the surface of the island. Jeju does not readily reveal its beauty at first; you have to calm down, adapt yourself to its pace and take the time to watch it patiently.

The sea, for instance, is always fascinating to watch with the waves crowned with white foam constantly coming, clashing against the rocks or on the sandy beach, and receding, only to be swallowed by the next wave. The only constant is change — a symbol of life itself.

But sit down on a rock and take the time to look closer at the colors of the sea — light ochre with green spots of loose seaweed near the beach, turning turquoise or emerald further out, then into different shades of blue, finally ending in a dark steel-colored line at the horizon. When dark rainy clouds come, the same sea will be black, and when the clouds are high and white, it turns silver, not to mention the gold of sunrise and the red of sunset.

The waters around Jeju are also a dazzling reflection of the everchanging sky. Here, the sky keeps changing as fast as the weather due to the winds. Therefore, going out for a walk along the easy hiking tracks, called Olle, in the mist of an early summer morning, you are well advised to take both rain coat and swimming suit along. Depending on how the weather develops, you may need one or the other, or even both in one day.

Wind, Stones and Women Wind is one of the “three abundances” that Jeju is famously blessed with, along with rocks and women. The island indeed has a lot of wind and even roaring storms at times, so the waves dance furiously before they splash against the rocky coast. But I may be the

“Jeju! That’s the place! We will make Jeju our home.” This decision was a pretty spontaneous one, and it is only some months old. Yet already we are sure it was the best one to make. only one here who feels uncomfortable when the storms come. With the proper clothing, it is actually refreshing and invigorating to walk in the storms as you can let all unpleasant thoughts and feelings blow away.

Yes, it’s true that Jeju abounds in wind and rocks, characterizing its natural environment, which is probably an eternal phenomenon.

But the abundance of women is rooted in socio-economic reasons that may change with time. Local people explain that traditionally many fishermen lost their lives at sea, leaving their wives behind to support their families, so these women had to grow stronger. Another popular view among the locals is that women living along the coast became powerful because they were the bread-earners of their families. On Jeju, many tasks normally done by women had to be done by men. Men did the household chores, raised children and tended

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vegetable gardens while their wives were out in the sea gathering sea cucumber, crabs, seaweed, octopus, shellfish, or anything edible.

The world-renowned women divers of Jeju, called haenyeo , meaning “sea women,” are trained to dive some 20 meters under water, where they remain for several minutes without oxygen equipment.

Although their number is said to be declining, I can still spot quite a few of them when I look up from my writing desk or, while walking along the coast, hear their whistles as they let out their breaths.

Some say that Jeju was traditionally a matriarchal society. Whether we agree on this or not, women are actually the forerunners of the development taking place in Korean society today. An increasing number of Korean women are becoming economically active and socially more independent than ever, especially since the founding of the Joseon Dynasty six centuries ago. And women’s changing role

Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

The wondrous color and light of Jeju’s ocean have long provided inspiration for artists from home and abroad.

brm1a-049hc, C-print, 260×135cm 2002 © Bae Bien U

in Korean society is gaining momentum. For example, I wonder who will end up being more successful among, let’s say, 20 students in an Internet café, of whom 17 are boys and 3 are girls, most of the boys likely immersed in playing games while the girls read content pages or write letters.

Mt. Halla and the Olle Trail Back at our place, where we are temporarily living before we find a permanent home, the apartment lies on top of a rock by the sea where the sound of the waves can be heard directly from under our balcony.

The seaside, however, is not the only option for those starting their lives on Jeju.

Mt. Halla rises 1,950 meters, sitting midpoint on the 41-km northsouth and 73-km east-west axis of the island. Just a few kilometers inland from the coast, a change comes in the climate and vegetation.

If you go up the mountain just 4-5 kilometers inland, the subtropical plants will soon make way for dense woods and then wide highland pastures where horses and cows graze. And while the Olle walking routes along the coast are famous enough to draw many tourists,

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many hiking trails are also found in the Mt. Halla area. Both types of trails are well marked by many signs, and inexperienced trekkers like me should be thankful for the many bridges and elevated wooden sections of the trails over rough terrain.

Another feature that I like is the way many of the coastal trails are laid out to allow you to stop now and then to eat or drink. The food on Jeju is wonderful. Of course, as on other islands, many restaurants here offer an abundance of fish and other seafood, cooked or raw.

Many of these fish can only be found on Jeju, and only in season. There are also special local delicacies based on the meat of the famous Jeju black pigs, horses, or pheasants. These dishes are served with plenty of fresh greens even in winter.

Jeju is certainly recommended for those who travel in pursuit of fine golf courses, casinos, theme parks, museums and galleries as well as sporting opportunities like scuba diving and horseback riding, though they are not among my interests. Last but not the least, I want to stress the hospitality and friendliness of the islanders, whose behavior may sometimes seem a bit simple and direct but always comes from the heart.

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Focus 1

Korea Rediscovered!

German Museums Exhibit their Korean Treasures

“Korea Rediscovered! Treasures from German Museums,” a touring exhibition initiated by the Korea Foundation and jointly organized by 10 German museums, opened on March 25, 2011 at the Museum of East Asian Art Cologne, Germany. This marks a turning point in the history of Korean art exhibitions in Europe with all of the works on display coming from the Korean art collections of leading German museums.

Maya Stiller Researcher of Korean Art History and Religions, University of California at Los Angeles

“K

orea Rediscovered! Treasures from German Museums,” a touring exhibition of Korean artworks in Germany, was launched with an impressive opening event held on March 25, 2011 at the Museum of East Asian Art Cologne. Addressing a crowd of some 400 guests representing the local cultural and diplomatic communities, Adele Schlombs, director of the museum, noted in her opening speech: “In the past 30 years, there have been only six exhibitions of Korean art and culture in Europe.

We must admit that our interest in Asian art has been primarily focused on China and Japan, but this exhibition endeavors to change this perception.”

A joint project that includes the participation of 10 German museums under the auspices of the Korea Foundation and the Linden-Museum Stuttgart, this exhibition successfully proves to the 1 European audiences that there is more to Korea than Samsung mobile phones, Hyundai cars, and the Red Devils soccer fans. For the first time in the history of Korean art exhibitions in Europe, this exhibition highlights 116 artifacts from the collections of major German museums. The exhibits were carefully selected by a panel of Asian art curators, representing the 10 participating museums, from among their collections, which together comprise some 8,000 objects.

Collaboration of 10 German Museums The artworks were mostly acquired by German diplomats, merchants, and missionaries who had visited Korea from the late 19th to the early 20th centuries. The items include religious and genre paintings, ceramics, lacquer boxes with mother-ofpearl decoration, folding screens, sculptures, and books print-

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ed with movable type. After the opening exhibition in Cologne, scheduled to continue through July 17, 2011, the upcoming venues will include the GRASSI Museum of Ethnography Leipzig (February 27-May 27, 2012), the Museum of Applied Arts Frankfurt (June 28-September 9, 2012), and the Linden-Museum Stuttgart (November 17, 2012-February 17, 2013).

“The exhibitions will offer unique chances to see Korean art objects in the possession of major German museums at one place. Visitors will be able to observe the cultural and stylistic correlations among the exhibits,” said Siegmar Nahser, the Asian Art curator at the Ethnological Museum, National Museums in Berlin. Nahser was among the curators from the 10 German museums who met for the first time in the summer of 2008 at the invitation of Min Youngjoon, the director of the Korea Foundation’s Berlin Office, to plan a joint exhibition that would tour Germany.

A subsequent survey revealed that some 10,000 Korean objects lay dormant in museum storages around Germany, many of them untouched for the past century since their acquisition. Each museum also had its own story about the accumulation of its Korean collection. The curators thus set out to study the objects and how they made their way to their museums, which were documented in essays that have been published in a 400-page catalogue, in German and English, along with photographs of the exhibits. The catalogue combines a descriptive analysis of the objects along with the background of the German museums’ collections, as well as the history of Korean-German diplomatic and cultural relations at the dawn of the 20th century.

While preparing the exhibition, the curators made some

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1. Gold earrings of the Silla Kingdom (5th-6th century, length: 10cm, Museum of Ethnology, Hamburg, donated

by Namkoong Ryun in 1986) 2. Celadon pitcher of the Goryeo Dynasty (12th century, height: 26cm, Museum of East Asian Art, Cologne, purchased by Adolf Fischer in 1905) K o r e a n a ı S u mme r 2 011

3. Blue-and-white jar with dragon design of the Joseon Dynasty (18th century, height: 45cm, diameter: 32.5cm, GRASSI Museum of Ethnography in Leipzig, collection of H. Sanger, purchased in 1902) 4.“Water-Moon Avalokitesvara” of the Goryeo Dynasty: (14th century, hanging scroll, height: 98cm,

width: 55cm, Museum of East Asian Art, Cologne, purchased by Adolf Fischer in 1909) 5. Wooden sculpture of boy attendant with phoenix of the Joseon Dynasty (17th-18th century, Museum of East Asian Art, Cologne, purchased by Adolf Fischer in 1910)

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noteworthy discoveries. “During our meetings we introduced our collections to each other,” says Dietmar Grundmann from the GRASSI Museum of Ethnography Leipzig. “It became clear that each museum reflects a different aspect of Korean culture.” In many cases, the curators learned about each other’s collections for the first time. Adele Schlombs exclaimed: “For example, GRASSI was a revelation for me. Some of their most beautiful white porcelain bowls and vases from the 18th and 19th centuries were fantastic.”

Noteworthy Discoveries About half of the exhibited artworks are from the Museum of East Asian Art Cologne, which boasts a premium collection of more than 400 Korean objects. The founder of the museum, Adolf Fischer (1856-1914), greatly admired the Buddhist paintings and ceramics of the Goryeo period (918-1392). When Fischer and his wife visited Korea in 1910, they purchased fine art objects from Japanese art dealers, and a large number of these acquisitions are being shown in the current exhibition in Cologne.

The “Water-Moon Avalokitesvara” painting from the 14th century, a highlight of the exhibition, attests to Fischer’s refined connoisseurship. Despite the darkened silk, you can clearly discern the sublime image of a popular deity decked out in resplendent robe and accessories, depicted with exquisite brushwork.

A Korean nobleman’s outfit, which had been acquired by Paul Georg von Moellendorff (1848-1901), who served as vice foreign secretary to King Gojong in the early 1880s, from the Ethnologi-

cal Museum, National Museums in Berlin, effectively illustrates the cooperative relationship between Germany and Korea at a turbulent turning point in modern history. Genre paintings by the 19th-century painter Kim Jun-geun (style name Gisan), also from the Berlin museum, testify to the keen interest of the early German visitors in Korea’s folk art and lifestyles.

Another notable exhibit is Nam June Paik’s video collage “Global Groove,” from the Museum Ludwig, a tribute to the pioneer video artist who started his artistic career in the German city, studying music as a student of Karl-Heinz Stockhausen. A bridge between East and West, Paik’s work successfully rounds off the exhibition, which begins with shamanic ritual paintings featuring the mystic images of mountain gods and tigers.

This joint exhibition presents only 116 objects. But its significance goes far beyond the number of exhibited items. As a result of their organizational efforts over the past two years, the curators have come to realize that much more work remains to be undertaken in terms of cataloguing and researching the Korean art collections at their museums. Hence, the exhibition marks the beginning of a new era in efforts to make Korea’s cultural heritage more visible to the German public.

Susanne Knoedel, the Korean art curator at the Museum of Ethnology Hamburg, reveals her museum’s future plans: “This joint project has increased our museum’s interest in Korea and has accelerated our plan to process the data on our Korean collection. Inspired by this joint exhibition, we also plan to show a selection from our collection of 2,600 Korean objects in a special exhibition in 2013. ”

1. Guests at the opening event of the touring exhibition “Korea Rediscovered! Korean Treasures from German Museums” view the Korean artworks on display at the Museum of East Asian Art, Cologne, Germany, on March 25, 2011.

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2

3

4

This joint exhibition presents only 116 objects. But its significance goes far beyond the number of exhibited items. As a result of their organizational efforts over the past two years, the curators have come to realize that much more work remains to be undertaken in terms of cataloguing and researching the Korean art collections at their museums.

5

2.“Mountain Spirit and Tiger� (Early 20th century, hanging scroll, height: 61.5cm, width: 46.5cm, Museum of Ethnology Hamburg, purchased with funds provided by the Association of Friends of the Museum of Ethnology Hamburg in 1980) 3. Adolf Fischer (1856-1914), founder of the Museum

of East Asian Art, Cologne, and his wife. The couple acquired a large number of Korean art objects during their trip to Korea in the early 1900s.

4. Joseon Dynasty garments originally acquired by Paul Georg von Moellendorf (19th century, length (coat) 140cm, Ethnological Museum, National Museums in

Berlin) 5. Cosmetic box with mother-of-pearl and tortoiseshell inlay of the Joseon Dynasty (18th century, height: 20.5cm, length: 19cm, width: 32cm, Asian Art Museum, National Museums in Berlin, donated by Barbara and Wolfgang Rabi in 2008)

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Focus 2

Seoul’s New Cultural Icon Brightens the Day of Passersby The spring whispers.

Bloom, hope, and love.

In your life have no fear.

20th Anniversary of the Gwanghwamun Poetry Placard in Downtown Capital For the past 20 years, the poetry signboard, installed on the front wall of the Kyobo Life Insurance building in Gwanghwamun, has offered encouragement to the people of Seoul. In the signboard’s brief message, those passing by can find a moment of refreshment, comfort, or even hope.

Koh Mi-seok Senior Reporter of Art and Design, The Dong-a Ilbo | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer Oh, owl! Make some other face.

This is spring rain.

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t was just past 6 p.m. on the first workday of March. As usual, Sejongno Street, in the heart of Seoul, was teeming with people heading home from work. Among them was Ha Ji-yeong, an office worker. Passing by Gwanghwamun Square, she happened to notice the large signboard on the Kyobo Life Insurance building. In an instant, her expressionless face brightened. She rushed to a nearby florist and bought a bouquet of freesias.

“As I held the flowers in my arms on the way home, enveloped by the fragrance, it was already spring in my heart,” she said. “When I gave the bouquet to my mother I saw spring appear on her face, too.”

The sudden urge to feel the spring breeze tickling the tip of her nose came from the following verse on the Kyobo Life Insurance signboard: I feel a sudden impulse to buy flowers. What else would I buy other than flowers?

Quoted from Lee Jin-myeong’s poem “Damn, why do I buy flowers like this?” the expression blows the warmth of spring into the hearts of city dwellers who barely find a moment to take pause in their hectic daily lives. Such is the power of a poetic message on a 20-meter-wide, 8-meter-high signboard facing Gwanghwamun Square.

Messages of Inspiration and Hope The “Gwanghwamun poetry signboard” was first installed in January 1991 at the suggestion of Shin Yong-ho, the late founder of Kyobo Life Insurance. A selected phrase or message, short enough for passersby to take in at a glance, would be posted on the signboard for a

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three-month period and changed with the seasons, in March, June, September, and December. In the early years, the signboard featured mainly instructive slogans, but this changed after the Asian financial crisis (1997-1998) swept through Korea. Thereafter, it displayed messages of hope and consolation, mostly from poetry, and eventually became a cultural institution of Seoul citizens.

“People seem to like the signboard because it doesn’t feature trite maxims but words from various literary works that offer encouragement, hope, or something to think about, and at times playful thoughts,” said Eun Hee-kyung, a novelist and member of the 2009 committee to select signboard messages. The Gwanghwamun signboard is now more than just a project to enhance the insurer’s corporate image but a cultural icon of Seoul.

Selection Process For some time after the signboard’s installation, the messages were selected through an in-house process. But since December 2000, Kyobo Life has maintained a seven-member selection committee that includes writers, professors, and journalists. Based on suggestions submitted by the general public to the company website and the recommendations of committee members, the committee makes the final selection following in-depth discussion and a vote.

Then, a team of 6 to 10 designers work out the visual presentation to ensure that the lettering is stylish yet legible at a quick glance. The final design is featured on the signboard for three months and then

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The poetry signboard on the front façade of Kyobo Life Insurance building in Gwanghwamun is a cultural icon of Seoul that brightens the day of passersby with words of hope and encouragement.

According to Kyobo Life, all of the 65 expressions thus far have been enthusiastically received, but the most popular lines of poetry are Ko Un’s: Each of us together forms the woods ; and If there’s no road, make

one as you go ahead. From here starts hope . Messages of challenge and hope were also popular: How can a flower bloom without being shaken? (Do Jong-hwan); and In the morning, there’s no such thing as destiny. There’s only a new day! (Jeong Hyeon-jong). replaced by another message.

Gwak Hyo-hwan, a poet and director of the Daesan Foundation, established by Kyobo Life Insurance, has participated in the selection process from the early years. “It is a meaningful experience to come in contact with a work of poetry in the nation’s capital, in the very heart of the city at that,” he said. “It is fortunate both for those who see it and enjoy a brief moment of contemplation, and for those who are given the precious opportunity to present their works to the public.”

Factors considered in the selection process include the reflection of current interests, seasonal appropriateness, and ability to easily convey the meaning of a proposed message. Thus far, the signboard has featured expressions from the works of 40 poets and intellectuals, covering a wide range of time and place, including Confucius, Hermann Hesse, Alfred Tennyson, Pablo Neruda, Seo Jeong-ju, Ko Un, and Do Jong-hwan, as well as thoughts from Aesop’s Fables, Buddhist scripture, and even a song by the hip-hop artist Kebee: You and I, each planted in a separate pot, bask in the same sunshine .

Metaphorical expressions of poetic works have been the most popular, with the most frequently (seven times) selected author being Korea’s renowned poet Ko Un, who has been repeatedly nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature.

‘100 People Who Light Up Our World’ While devoid of neon lighting, these brief messages posted on a building signboard have steadily attracted growing social and cultural

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attention over the past 20 years. As soon as a new expression appears, the news spreads quickly through personal blogs and often invites commentary in newspapers.

In December 2007, the Kyobo Life signboard was named one of the “100 People Who Light Up Our World” by the Korea Green Foundation, despite it not being a person. In March 2008, the signboard received a citation for its efforts to promote the Korean language from the Cultural Union for Hangeul, a civic group. A book published in October 2010, “Read, Stroll and Feel in Gwanghwamun” contains a list of messages from the signboard, while a free smartphone application which allows users to download the expressions is available as well.

In addition, Kyobo Life receives a continuous flow of inquiries from government agencies and businesses with an interest in putting up their own signboards. Spurred on by such positive responses, Kyobo Life has installed similar signboards on its other buildings nationwide, in Gangnam (Seoul) as well as Cheonan, Daejeon, Busan, Gwangju, Daegu, and Jeju.

Power of Empathy and Metaphor The Gwanghwamun poetry signboard has maintained close relations with the public by reflecting their reality, thereby serving as a window to Korean society. The featured expressions provide a glimpse of the path that society has traveled along.

Recently, a research team led by Professor Yi Myeong-cheon of Chung-Ang University published a paper that evaluates the themes

Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

Jump, Fish!

I'll snatch at the first sensation.

and stylistic characteristics of the featured messages. The paper concludes that the signboard is “an unprecedented case of outdoor advertising in terms of its location, which allows it to serve as a landmark; its grand scale in contrast with other billboards; its exposure to one million pedestrians and 250,000 vehicles per day; and above all, its existence over 20 years.”

According to the paper, the signboard has been a beloved institution for so long thanks to its expressions of empathy and metaphor.

That is, rather than using direct messages, it has managed to create empathy through emotional appeal and struck a chord in the hearts of people with thought-provoking metaphors.

When it was originally put up in 1991, the signboard message read: “Let’s work together to reinvigorate the economy.” This was followed by other expressions that sought to boost Korea’s economic strength: “It’s not too late. Let’s make the leap to economic prosperity” and “Great results come from a great start.” When Korea was hit hard by the Asian financial crisis in late 1997, these slogans were replaced by words of encouragement. Kyobo Life founder Shin Yong-ho called for this change, saying: “Forget about advertising the company. Use this signboard solely to give comfort to the citizens.”

In February 1998, a new beginning was heralded by these lines from Ko Un’s poem “An Unknown Place”: Leave for an unknown place, away from your repeated daily routines .

Afterward, the signboard featured a series of messages that offered solace and hope to Koreans, whose everyday lives were being challenged by recession. In the aftermath of the financial crisis, the signboard mainly displayed messages of consolation, hope, self-reflection, perseverance, and similar values. In the winter of 1998, for example, a message for co-existence and co-prosperity sought to uplift the public: Each of us together forms the woods. Each and every one of the trees, not being cut down, forms the woods. We’re going back to that time of the woods .

When Korean society overcame the crisis and recovered its stability, love emerged as the dominant topic: Just as I love your heart with tenderness, I love this world we live in (summer 2008); The first wildflower that shoots through the cracks in snow and ice, I hope it is you (winter 2010).

The growing popularity of the signboard has given rise to a variety of incidents. In early 1998, emboldened by the signboard’s message to “Leave for an unknown place…” a public official working at the presi-

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dential office, Cheong Wa Dae, resigned his position to pursue a longheld dream. In 2004, a young man just discharged from the military and worried about his future was inspired by the signboard’s expression: How can a flower bloom without being shaken? Any flower that’s beautiful is shaken before it blooms . In expressing his gratitude to Kyobo Life for this boost, the young man noted how the poem had restored his confidence in his own potential.

In the spring of 2008, upon the inauguration of a new administration, a lively political debate emerged over the quote from a poem by the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda: Joy, my love, joy in all things, in what falls and what flourishes . People actively discussed their interpretation of “what falls and what flourishes.”

There was also considerable attention paid to the message that appeared in spring 2009. By coincidence, a haiku work by the Japanese poet Kobayashi Issa — Oh owl! Make some other face. This is spring rain . — was featured on March 1, the anniversary of Korea’s 1919 uprising for liberation from Japanese rule. Kyobo Life was anxious as to how people would respond to this potentially delicate situation. Fortunately, the spring poem was accepted and welcomed for what it expressed, demonstrating Korean society’s acceptance of cultural diversity.

‘A Special Present Just for Me’ According to Kyobo Life, all of the 65 expressions over the past 20 years have been enthusiastically received, but the most popular lines of poetry are Ko Un’s: Each of us together forms the woods ; and If there’s no road, make one as you go ahead. From here starts hope .

Messages of challenge and hope were also popular: How can a flower bloom without being shaken? (Do Jong-hwan, spring 2004); In the morning, there’s no such thing as destiny. There’s only a new day!

(Jeong Hyeon-jong, winter 2008).

Literary figures have expressed their ardent desire for the signboard, a rare cultural icon with few counterparts in the world, to be permanently maintained. “Just as the short verses can lift my heart, I saw that they could embrace all those down at heart, ease their pain and worry, and heal the open wounds and scars on their souls” (Jang Seok-ju, poet). “The Gwanghwamun signboard is the blue sky over Seoul. It is a cool breeze in the humdrum of everyday life, a blue river that has flowed through the streets of Gwanghwamun for 20 years” (Kim Yong-taek, poet).

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Art Review

‘Tears of Heaven’ A Vanguard of Korea’s Budding Musical Industry The original musical production “Tears of Heaven” was a success thanks to its casting of young pop idols and advance publicity from the release of a theme album. However, a number of challenges need to be addressed before moving ahead with its hoped-for Broadway debut.

Won Jong-won Musical Critic; Professor of Mass Communication, Soonchunhyang University

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ow many musical productions are staged in Korea each year? Surprisingly, more than 180, and this figure does not even include the musicals made for children or educational purposes.

This high number may lead to a belief that those involved in the musical industry are making piles of money. But the market does not necessarily work that way. The growing gap between the rich and the poor is pervasive throughout the cultural scene, and musicals are no exception. Those involved in the production business cite the imbalance between imported and locally produced musicals as one of the vexing problems. Only licensed productions of international hits or adaptations thereof ensure an adequate return, while domestic musicals based on Korean cultural themes and produced with local human resources and capital find it ever more difficult to compete.

The production and staging of such a large number of musicals also means they can generally have only a limited run. Most local musicals are inevitably outdrawn by international hits that have been thoroughly tested on the global stage. Hence Korean musicals have less ability to open people’s wallets, while the likelihood of failure is particularly high for large venues of 1,000 seats or more. As such, the market is desperate to see a competitive domestic production.

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In“Tears of Heaven,” the lead character, Joon (the Korean soldier to the left) is dispatched to the Vietnam War. Pop singer Kim Jun-su proved his box-office appeal by attracting legions of his fans.

Korean Story and Global Production “Tears of Heaven,” which premiered on February 1-March 19, 2011 at the National Theater in Seoul, is meaningful for its efforts to address the prevailing concerns of the musical market. The two Korean producers, Creative Production and Seol and Company, sought to cast Korean pop idols and retained a global production team in order to attract a global-minded audience. These moves reflect the producers’ aspirations to transform the Korean musical market from a buyer of licensed works into one that can be a source of new creative content. Some see “Tears of Heaven” as a “multinational” cultural product that combines local capital and planning with a foreign creative team; but whatever the case, its attempt to adapt to or challenge the global marketplace is certainly noteworthy.

Another ‘Miss Saigon’?

The setting for “Tears of Heaven” is the Vietnam War. At first, people might question the reason for making another musical based on the Vietnam War in light of the popularity of “Miss Saigon,” a huge international hit dealing with the same subject. On second thought, however, the intentions of the producers are easy enough to understand.

In “Tears of Heaven,” the Vietnam War, as a historical event, is reconstructed from the Korean perspective. (South Korea dispatched more than 300,000 troops to Vietnam, the second-largest presence behind only the United States, and suffered a heavy human toll in the war.)

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In “Raining Fire,” an ensemble sings of death amidst the vortex of war and destruction on the stage, while the lead actor and other cast members sing “Can You Hear Me?” as they make their way to the frontline. The stirring music and singing greatly enhances the emotional impact of the scenes.

A good response to the question of whether the local musical would ever be able to break free from the shadow of “Miss Saigon” comes from the musical actor Brad Little, who played the U.S. Army Colonel James Grayson: “Why shouldn’t there be a musical that tells another side of the Vietnam War?”

Aiming for Broadway The sophisticated stage scenery makes for a compelling, enjoyable experience. The LED panels covering the stage floor emit a rainbow of colors, adding to the intended mood, while an Asian-style shadow play, utilizing lighting and multimedia, is shown as a backdrop. The “door,” which is moved to different areas of the stage to create a variety of spaces, offers a distinctive enjoyment to the stage performance. The sets designed by David Gallo, who has gained worldwide acclaim for his work on “The Drowsy Chaperone” and “Thoroughly Modern Millie,” are imaginative as well as resourceful.

The songs composed by Frank Wildhorn are gripping and full of popular appeal, much like those of his other musicals, such as “Jekyll and Hyde” and “Monte Cristo,” which had both been staged in Seoul earlier this year. In “Raining Fire,” an ensemble sings of death amidst the vortex of war and destruction on the stage, while the lead actor and other

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Scenes from “Tears of Heaven.” (Left) Brad Little, who played Colonel Grayson, was praised for his dramatic stage presence. (Right) Lead characters Linh (Lee Hyeri) and Joon (Kim Jun-su).

cast members sing “Can You Hear Me?” as they make their way to the frontline. The stirring music and singing greatly enhances the emotional impact of the scenes.

Of particular note, the production of a theme album prior to the premiere, a true rarity for a local Korean musical, marks a unique and fresh marketing approach. Given the fundamental role that music plays in a musical production, the advance release of the album, which includes “Can You Hear Me?” by Onion and “Tears of Heaven” by Lee Hye-ri of the girl group Davich, served to attract the interest of audiences, who could become familiar with the songs before even seeing the show. As the ranks of foreign fans of Korean pop music continue to grow, thanks to the influence of hallyu , or the Korean Wave, the album serves as a useful marketing tool.

While “Tears of Heaven” was a success as a brand new and original musical production, there are numerous hurdles that must be overcome to assure its further success. In particular, the extreme turn of emotions, slowmoving plot development and series of unrealistic coincidences need to be revised or improved. The experiences of its premiere in Seoul will prove valuable if more careful attention is paid to various details in order to upgrade the overall performance quality. In doing so, a Broadway debut would be something to look forward to.

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Discovering Korea

My Voyage in Korean Literature Every day has been an adventure since I began my journey of Korean literature six years ago, at the age of 45.

Every corner promises something new; every book I discover brings me new insight. Once a week, I visit the foreign bookstores in Seoul. I’m on a personal mission to build a private library containing all the published translations of modern Korean literature.

Charles Montgomery Professor, Department of English Interpretation and Translation, Dongguk University | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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bout 15 years ago in a language lab in Hayward, California, a young Korean tutor named Ed Park came up to me and asked if I would like to go out for a bite and to discuss literature. There, under the fluorescent laboratory lights with computers humming, my education about Korea got underway. Ed Park became my best friend, we worked together on translations, we continuously discussed literature, and I eventually became the godfather of his son. Nine years later, I flew to Korea for the first time to attend Ed’s wedding ceremony in Gwangju.

The very moment I landed at Incheon International Airport, I had the sense that something special was unfolding. Perhaps it was partly because Incheon is a world-class airport; perhaps it was just jet lag. But the feeling never left, and as I traveled around Korea I knew that I would someday come back here to pursue my growing cultural interests.

Discovering the Literature Upon my return to the United States, I began my postgraduate studies in English Literature. As my thesis deadline grew nearer, I luckily came across the story “They Won’t Crack it Open” by Kim Yong-ik.

Kim was an author of whom I had never heard, but the story was an amazing portrayal of life and lives across cultures and seas. I scrambled to the Internet and began to search out the details of Kim’s life and work. His story was amazing; a Korean writer who came to the United States and learned English well enough to write his work directly in English. And what a work! Most of his works were out of print, but a diligent Internet search found most of his volumes, and I quickly put together a private library of Kim’s works.

One of the things that most impressed me about Kim’s work was that it deals with the real issues of real people. It seemed to be a literature for people and not solely for academics. Kim Yong-ik not only gave me the eventual topic for my Master’s thesis, but also stimulated my interest in Korean literature.

Shortly thereafter, I visited Ed and asked him for recommendations of translated Korean literature.

He handed me Yi Mun-yol’s “Our Twisted Hero.” I read it in one sitting and was amazed by how relevant Yi’s work seemed even across cultures and how well it read, translation notwithstanding. I slowly began reading more Korean literature. At the same time, with my postgraduate degree in hand, and with a desire to get closer to the source of the literature, I began looking to Korea for a job.

Thus in March 2008, I found myself, again, at Incheon International Airport. This time, however, I had quit my job as marketing director for the San Jose/Evergreen Community College District, and was on my way to Daejeon to teach at Woosong University and Solbridge International School of Business.

Once settled in Daejeon, I began taking excursions to Seoul to search for books. Book shopping has always been one of my favorite pastimes and, a few months later when my bibliophile wife joined me in Korea, searching for books became a regular part of our life. One day I came across a volume from the “Portable Library of Korean Literature,” a collection of short novels and stories translated with support of the Korean Literature Translation Institute and published by Jimoondang. This book was Kim Youngha’s “Photo Shop Murder” packaged with “Whatever Happened to the Guy in the Elevator.” Both stories were outstanding, and Kim’s laconic style intrigued me immediately.

This book led me to a decision to read all of the works published under the Jimoondang imprint and to review them on my blog. It was not so much that I felt a compulsion to share the literature, but I felt that reading and reviewing these works would help me to better understand the literature myself. As time went by, this evolved into a blog completely devoted to modern Korean literature. This is KTLIT (www.ktlit.com), where Ed Park and I blog about all things having to do with translated modern Korean literature. And in this initial journey through modern Korean fiction, I did begin to feel compelled to share the literature.

At the end of my first year in Korea, I had a stroke of luck. I applied for and received a job in the English Interpretation and Translation Department at Dongguk University in Seoul. Here, I found congenial colleagues and outstanding students. Everyone I work with is an expert on some aspect of Korean litera-

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ture or translation and all are happy to share their knowledge with me. In addition, I was privileged to work as an editor with the Translation Studies Research Institute (TSRI) of Dongguk University. This introduced me to even more Korean literature, and insights into how Koreans view their national literature.

As I read Korean literature I discover new things about Korean culture. Each book has been a doorway to understanding Korea ― its history, its culture, its people. Every reading reveals something new. The semihallucinatory haze of Yi Sang’s “Wings” brought me closer to understanding the stifling effects of Japanese colonialism. Reading bundan munhak , meaning the “literature of division,” led me to understand, in an entirely new way, the effects of the Korean War. Reading Yi Kwang-su’s “The Heartless” and Yeom Sangseop’s “Three Generations” made clear to me the amazing speed at which Korean culture has changed since the 20th century.

Some things, I confess, remain beyond my understanding: I have read Yi Hyo-seok’s “Buckwheat Season” many times in different translations, and I still do not completely understand its appeal. The same is true of Hwang Sun-won’s “Shower,” which many Koreans love unreservedly, but which strikes me as simple and predictable. Yet it is partly those differences in taste and popular appeal that keep Korean literature semi-mysterious, and therefore interesting to me. I believe those same differences, as well as the universal cultural similarities and interactions, will someday bring Korean literature to a larger international audience.

While reading its literature, I also began to travel around Korea and enjoy its broader culture. A trip to Gyeongju introduced me to the Silla Kingdom. I still recall driving in a taxi to the Seokguram Grotto and spotting the Kim Dong-ni/Park Mok-wol Literary Museum. On the way back down from Seokguram, I convinced my family (and the taxi driver who was not used to stopping there) that we had to stop and visit. I had read Kim Dong-ni’s short stories “The Cry of Magpies” and “The Shaman Sorceress,” but seeing them in his museum, with a friendly attendant following me around and snapping pictures, was a priceless experience.

On a trip to Chuncheon, I also happened to come across the Kim Yu-jeong House of Literature. This was another happy coincidence as one of the Portable Library books I had read was Kim’s “The Camellias.” At the Kim Yu-jeong House of Literature, I took dozens of photographs and practiced my poor Korean on the extremely patient docent of the facility.

My journey has continued. In May last year I went on a tour of Gangwon Province that featured a stop at the Kim Satgat Cultural Center. I had read Yi Mun-yol’s excellent novel “The Poet” several months before and it was a rare privilege to visit the region where the legendary poet, Kim Satgat, had once roamed and to see history literally “come to life” at his memorial center in the form of manuscripts, artworks, buildings, and even his burial mound.

Korean literature in translation has also continued to grow. Last year alone there have been at least two major translations that promise to bring Korean literature to further prominence. Park Wan-suh’s “Who Ate Up All the Shinga?” is a charming mother-daughter story that deftly blends an intricate family anecdote with

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Culture KoKorean re a n Cu l tu re && Arts A rts

modern Korean history. Last fall, Kim Young-ha’s “Your Republic Is Calling You” was published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. This is a very special time to be a fan of Korean literature as new styles and genres are making their way to the English-reading world.

Wikipedia Project As my knowledge of Korean literature has increased, I have also become aware that Korean literature is not as well known internationally as it deserves. This was evident among my literary friends in the United States and the United Kingdom. When I told them that I was studying and reading Korean literature, they would respond politely, but they obviously had never heard of the books and authors I mentioned. While none of them could identify sijo or pansori , they certainly knew of haiku and kabuki. I wondered why? From my Internet searches, I could see that Korean literature was seldom mentioned in international literary contests or on international literary websites for translated works. I tried to think about ways to find a rightful place for Korean literature on the international stage.

Consequently, I began working on a Wikipedia Project, my own personal attempt to increase the amount of information on Korean literature available on the English-language website. Nearly 80 percent of English-

In May last year, I went on a tour of Gangwon Province that featured a stop at the Kim Satgat Cultural Center. I had read Yi Mun-yol’s excellent novel “The Poet” several months before and it was a rare privilege to visit the region where the legendary poet, Kim Satgat, had once roamed and to see history literally “come to life” at his memorial center, in the form of handwritten manuscripts, artworks, buildings, and even his burial mound. language web users utilize Google to search for information, and for “Korean Literature,” the first search result is a Wikipedia page. Unfortunately, Wikipedia has only sketchy information on Korean literature and authors. I began filling out the existing pages, and creating new ones. This effort soon attracted the attention of my colleague Kim Soon-young at Dongguk University, who brought it to the attention of the university as a whole. The university is currently developing a program to vastly increase the impact of Korean literature on English-language websites.

In this task, it is all important for the general Korean “brand” to be presented in a consistent, intelligible manner to foreigners, and continuously to be publicized throughout the world. In addition, increased effort should be put into the translation of Korean literature. Here, I mean increased effort is needed to choose the “right” works, which will be of interest to English-speaking readers, as well as the “right” translators who can translate into fluid and vernacular English. Finally, these translations should be readily available to any interested reader.

Building a Personal Library As my journey continues, Korean literature never ceases to amaze me. Once a week, I visit the foreign bookstores in Seoul. I am on a personal mission to build a private library containing all the published translations of modern Korean literature.

Is this likely to happen? Probably not. But it is likely for me to discover even more excellent works along the way.

Every day has been an adventure since I began my journey with Korean literature six years ago, at the age of 45. Every corner promises something new, and every book I discover brings me new insight. Korean literature is strongly national, intensely personal, and reveals a history and culture that are relatively unknown to the world. This is the great gift that Korean literature can offer to the English-speaking world.

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Interview

Gahoeheon, an Italian restaurant in Bukchon, is a unique combination of Western and Korean spaces.

O

ver the last 100 years, many renowned architects have cast a critical eye on the urban environment that frames their creations. These visionary commentators greatly influenced the emergence of new sensibilities that would help shape and reshape urbanscapes and city life in succeeding decades. In the early and mid-20th century, architects viewed the city negatively and sought to bring order to urban chaos. Le Corbusier, one of the pioneers of the International Style, wanted to cleanse the city by creating planned communities built of steel, glass, and concrete structures. On the other side of the Atlantic, Frank Lloyd Wright, perhaps the most distinguished architect in U.S. history, had an equally dim view of the city, for which he advocated decentralization through the creation of large green spaces to make the city more livable.

Things changed in the late 20th century, as the mod-

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ernist International Style gave way to an eclectic postmodernism. Architects became interested in the potential of the city as a source of discovery and stimulation. In discussing New York, the internationally acclaimed Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas, for example, celebrated the “chance-like� spontaneity of city life. The postmodern turn in urban theory has led to a number of related movements, such as the New Urbanism, New Pedestrianism, and Cittaslow (Slow Cities), that all focus on the development of dynamic urban spaces amidst a thriving local economy and strong sense of community.

As with most everything else in Korea, the speed of change causes the old and the new to coexist in harmony as well as tension. Though urban modernism set down roots during the Japanese colonial era, it remained dormant until the 1970s when the push began to develop new planned communities in Seoul’s Yeouido and Gangnam areas. The paradigm of wide roadways and large apartment complexes that emerged then continues to dominate urban planning in Korea.

Enter Hwang Doo-jin, one of the leaders of a new generation of architects who offers an alternative to the modernist apartment paradigm. Critics of the apartment

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Hwang Doo-jin’s

‘Rainbow Rice Cake’ Architecture Hwang Doo-jin, one of Korea’s foremost contemporary architects, is engrossed in redesigning the former city center of Seoul for future generations. His architectural projects are focused on ways to revitalize the dormant old neighborhoods at the very heart of the bustling metropolis so that they can be reborn as vibrant cultural spaces where tradition and modernity coexist.

Robert J. Fouser Professor of Korean Language Education, Seoul National University

paradigm emerged in the late 2000s as this approach overwhelmed the urban landscape, but few have offered workable alternatives. In March 2011, I met with Hwang at his studio in Tongeui-dong in the Seochon neighborhood of Seoul to discuss various alternatives and to learn more about one of Korea’s most visionary architects.

Fouser: I have read in a newspaper that you really liked Seochon (Western Village) and decided to move here. When did you move here and why?

Hwang: I moved here in 2002. I was working on a building in nearby Hyoja-dong and visited the area often.

I really liked the neighborhood and decided to make it my home. I like the mix of history, nature — Mt. Inwang is only a stone’s throw away — and the mixed-use ambience. You can feel layers of time here.

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Redevelopment of Traditional Neighborhoods Fouser: I lived in nearby Nuha-dong in 2009 and remember the bitter controversy over redevelopment versus preservation. The city has since developed a plan to preserve the traditional Korean-style houses in the area. What do you think of these issues?

Hwang: I think ambience is really important. We need to think about what is special about Seochon. We need to think about what should be preserved and what should be developed. For example, I think most people will agree that we need to preserve the traditional Korean-style houses, the alleys, historical landmarks, and of course, the natural environment. On the other hand, I think there are things that need to be developed. The infrastructure — the sewage system and the like — is old and needs improvement. More importantly, I think the area could benefit from greater density. For a central location — we’re less than 10 minutes from Gwanghwamun — the density is quite low compared to other major cities in the world. Greater density means more activity and a stronger local economy, so it’s an important issue. Also, while the area is close to nature, there are not enough

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“You know what ‘rainbow rice cake’ is, right? It’s an attractive rice cake with different colored layers. Well, I’ve applied this idea to architecture for the design of two- or three-story mixed-use buildings. This type of structure fits in with the current building codes and I think it would work well in Seochon, where there is already a lot of commercial activity. I think it offers a model for the mixeduse development of other older urban neighborhoods in Korea.”

Jipunhyeon in Gahoe-dong. Hwang Doo-jin integrates modern elements into the traditional hanok for the convenience of its occupants.

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accessible green spaces in the area.

Fouser: Traditional Korean-style houses are one floor with a middle courtyard. How can you increase density and preserve them at the same time?

Hwang: I know it’s not easy, but there are areas in Seochon that are not being used very well now. I think you can preserve the Korean-style houses while increasing the density in areas that don’t have Korean-style houses now. You know what “rainbow rice cake” is, right? It’s an attractive rice cake with different colored layers. Well, I’ve applied this idea to architecture for the design of twoor three-story mixed-use buildings. The first floor, for example, can have a shop, office, or workspace — some kind of business — while the second and third floors are residences. This type of structure fits in with the current building codes and I think it would work well in Seochon, where there is already a lot of commercial activity. I think

it offers a model for the mixed-use development of other older urban neighborhoods in Korea.

Fouser: Interesting. Let’s jump over Gyeongbok Palace to Bukchon (Northern Village) for a moment. What do you think of efforts to preserve the Korean-style houses in that area?

Hwang: Efforts started late — we almost lost Bukchon — but I think they succeeded. Much of the traditional cityscape of Bukchon has been saved and many of the houses in the area have become attractive living spaces. The narrow guidelines for preservation that were in effect in the early stages of preservation have been loosened somewhat to allow for more creativity. I think that’s good because a lot of the restored houses look the same.

Fouser: I now live in Gye-dong in the heart of Bukchon, and I’ve noticed that, too.

Have you done any work in Bukchon?

Hwang: I’ve designed eight traditional Korean-style houses in Bukchon and two Korean-style non-residential buildings in Gyeonggi Province. I haven’t done one in Seochon yet. At first, I followed traditional design principles very closely, but with experience, I’ve integrated other elements to design something more original. For example, I’ve included basements with very contemporary interiors — hardly elements of traditional Korean design — in some of the Korean-style houses.

Fouser: Some people complain that the preservation efforts are not doing enough. What’s your take on that?

Hwang: The problem is that a lot of those critics define preservation in European terms, but they overlook the simple fact that European cities have had high density for centuries. The same holds true for older cities on the East Coast of the United States. By contrast, Joseon-period Seoul was mainly a one-story city with relatively low density. Things were packed tightly together, but the population density was low compared to European cities. Preservation in Seoul needs to satisfy the contemporary demands for higher density.

Seochon, Bukchon and Gangnam Fouser: I’ve lived in both Seochon and Bukchon and still have trouble describing the differences in ambience of the two areas. What do you think?

Hwang: It’s hard for me, too. I like both areas. I go to Bukchon often and like it. For starters, Bukchon is hilly, whereas Seochon is flat. Topography makes the areas feel quite different from each other. Bukchon has a heavier, more ponderous ambience; you can feel the weight of history there. Seochon is more diverse and has a more vibrant feeling about it. It feels more urban. Seochon is my home and I feel like I’m part of the community here.

Fouser: I’d like to widen our discussion to the city of Seoul. What do you think of Seoul?

Hwang: Seoul may not be number one in any single category, but it ranks high in a composite of categories. It is a very large city that combines old and new. Seoul also has a lot of nature, something people often overlook. Above all, I think Seoul gains energy from the speed of life and the interesting dynamism between online and offline worlds. There’s a whole online digital city of Seoul that runs parallel to the offline physical city, and the interaction between the two is fascinating.

Fouser: And what do you think about Gangnam?

Hwang: Gangnam was designed to be a residential area to help relieve acute crowding in Seoul in the 1960s. It has become way overbuilt for the infrastructure, and the presence of nature is lacking. In a way, Gangnam and the older areas of

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1. The Choonwondang clinic of traditional Korean medicine.

Through the clinic's front window, you can observe the concoction of herbal prescriptions.

2. The Korean Room of the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities, in Stockholm, is an overseas design project by Hwang Doo-jin.

the city in Gangbuk are two different cities, so it’s hard to look at them through a one-size-fits-all approach to urban planning.

Landmark Buildings Fouser: I know this might be a difficult question, but what other architects have influenced your ideas and work?

Hwang: Ludwig Mies van der Rohe has probably influenced me most. His work — which is almost entirely glass and steel — is minimalist. It goes back to the Bauhaus tradition of minimalism: the idea that form follows function. My work is not minimalist, but I don’t like to add unnecessary elements. Louis Kahn is another architect I like. And I like Frank Lloyd Wright because his work reflects his deep roots in a defined place, the American Midwest. In the end, I think great architecture is locally rooted.

Fouser: Interesting influences. Could you tell me a lit-

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tle about your life and background?

Hwang: Well, my parents escaped from North Korea during the Korean War, so I’m part of the North Korean diaspora in South Korea. We could never visit our ancestral graves because they are in North Korea, so I always felt a little different from most people around me. I grew up in a middle-class family that valued learning, graduated from Seoul National University (B.S. and M.S.) and then earned a Master’s degree in architecture at Yale University. I first became interested in localism at Yale because the university was actively reaching out to the city of New Haven, which was quite troubled at the time. Yale is a global institution — people come from everywhere — but it was very concerned with its locality, with New Haven. That impressed me a great deal.

Fouser: I’ve neglected to ask you about your contemporary work. Could you tell me about that?

Hwang: I already talked about the importance of locality in architecture, and my locality is Korea, or, more accurately, Seochon in Seoul. I think the contemporary buildings that I design can and should reflect my locality. Let me give you an example. In 2008, I designed a building for the Choonwondang Oriental Medicine Clinic and Museum in Jongno 3-ga. Founded in 1847, Choonwondang is the oldest Oriental medicine clinic in Seoul. It has remained in a single family for generations.

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United States. My first work overseas is the interior design of the Korean Room, an exhibition space for Korean art at the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities (Östasiatiska museet ) in Stockholm that is scheduled to open in October 2011. The Korean Room is located at one end of the building, which provides an attractive place to relax. The focal point of the design is a long bench that looks out through an eyelevel window to the harbor and cityscape. It’s a very Swedish view and I wanted to bring that locality into the space for Korean art; I wanted to harmonize the “Koreanness” of the exhibition with the “Swedishness” of the view. The quiet atmosphere evokes a sense of modesty found in traditional Korean interior design.

Swedish View from Korean Room 1

Oriental medicine is also traditional, using natural ingredients that are boiled into medications. The weight of history and the traditional craft-like work involved in making the medicines inspired me to put the workshop, the place where the ingredients are boiled, at the front of the building behind glass walls — usually it sits at the back hidden from view. I wanted to highlight tradition by bringing it into view. Another recent project (2009) is a series of five elevated riverside cafés perched at the entrances of three bridges over the Han River. The cafés offer a new way to place people in touch with the river — the most significant natural feature of Seoul; they see the river differently from the congenial atmosphere of the cafés.

Fouser: We’ve covered a lot of ground. I’d now like to move from Korea to the global stage. Have you done any work overseas?

Hwang: Yes. I participated in an exhibition in Frankfurt and did a lecture tour on architecture at universities in the

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Fouser: What are your plans for the future?

Hwang: So far, I’ve been a very local architect, rooted in my community. I’d like to widen the range of my community and interact more with different communities overseas. I want to share what my community has to offer while learning about other communities. The project in Stockholm is my first real foray into another community and I’m anxious to see the response.

Fouser: Thank you for sharing so much of your time with me. My heart still lies in Seochon, and I think we’ve become better neighbors today.

In talking with Hwang Doo-jin, I was reminded of Jane Jacobs. In her seminal work, “The Death and Life of Great American Cities” (1961), Jacobs criticized the modernist approaches to urban design that focused on building highways and destroying existing structures to build new, “modern” ones. For cities to remain vital, she argued that they need “four generators of diversity”: density, mixed uses, short blocks, and buildings of various ages and states of repair. Her work stimulated a new interest in how density and “chaos” contribute to vital urban spaces.

Jacobs never visited Seochon, but the area is a perfect match for her “four generators of diversity,” which explains why Hwang and others find it so appealing. Through buildings that range from traditional Korean-style houses to “rainbow rice cake” mixed-use buildings, Hwang Doo-jin offers workable solutions that enhance the vitality of aging neighborhoods in Korean cities. In so doing, he offers inspiration to other local architects around the world to apply density-based, mixed-use solutions to their urban situations.

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On the Global Stage

Lee Ufan: Marking Infinity

Retrospective at the Guggenheim The artworks of Lee Ufan (Yi U-hwan), a prominent Korean artist who has been active mostly in Japan and Europe, are being featured in a large-scale retrospective exhibition, “Lee Ufan: Marking Infinity,� at the Guggenheim Museum in New York (June 24-September 28, 2011). The exhibition features 90 of his drawings, paintings, and sculptural works from the early 1960s through today.

Jung Hyung-mo Culture Editor, JoongAng SUNDAY | Photographs The Guggenheim Museum

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“H

e is an important artist and philosopher. His artworks and writings are unequaled in Minimalist and PostMinimalist art. Being active mostly in Japan and Europe, he has hardly been introduced in the United States. The exhibition is overdue,” said Alexandra Munroe, Samsung Senior Curator of Asian Art at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, who organized the retrospective. Four years in the making, the monumental event brings the works of a truly remarkable Korean-born artist to North American audiences for the first time. This kind of enthusiasm makes it clear why the Guggenheim chose to feature Lee Ufan’s artworks.

‘Against Artifice’ Every year, the Guggenheim Museum presents an exhibition of one or two selected contemporary artists. Masters of contemporary avant-garde art, such as Joseph Beuys, Matthew Barney, and Claes Oldenburg, have been featured, as have the Korean artist Nam June Paik (2000) and the Chinese Cai Guo-Qiang (2008). Lee Ufan will be the third East Asian artist to be showcased in a major Guggenheim career retrospective.

Lee is known as one of the leading figures of the Monoha Movement in Japanese art. What is Mono-ha? Lee explains the background of the movement: “In the late 1960s, the so-called Kinetic Art landed in Japan. It was a kind of trick causing an optical illusion — a confusion of the existence and non-existence of things, confusion of right and wrong. That gave me the idea that ‘I see things before me but I can’t believe them.’ This unique way of critiquing reality, confusing the truth of reality, made a strong impact on me. The year 1968 was very important worldwide. In Italy, Arte Povera came on, an avant-garde art movement that uses materials from daily life and expands the perspective of an artwork by involving its display and site into the work. In such a context, Mono-ha (literally meaning “Object School”) claimed to advocate a critique of commercial products and to be ‘against artifice.’”

What does “against artifice” mean? Lee noted that art, since the beginning of modern times, has been mostly “reproduced.” He means that the artists first visualize an original in their minds and then use this to create a visible form. Mono-ha starts off by questioning such a practice.

“For Mono-ha artists, a motif remains merely an opportunity for creating a work. More important is that the object to be created, the time, and the site are all interactively reflected in the final work,” he said. In other words, “we try to limit our thinking to half of the artwork and to connect the visible with the invisible, the exterior with the interior, in the remaining half.”

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2 1. “Relatum — a signal” (2005) features a stone and a steel plate.

2. To find the stones for his artworks, such as the intense dialogue theme between stone and steel, Lee Ufan travels around the world.

Installation Works In this sense, the subject throughout his works, which are created with dots, lines, or a stone skillfully arranged with a steel plate, is the “blank space.” Lee explains in his book “Art of Blank Space”: “With my artwork, I try to limit what I create and accept what I did not create, through which the parts infiltrate each other in a dynamic relationship. I intend through this dynamic relationship for a poetic, critical and transcendent space to open up. I call it ‘art of blank space.’ It is not, however, an empty space that lacks reality. For example, when a big drum is struck the sound echoes through the surrounding space. I would call the vibrating space, including the drum, a ‘blank space.’”

This art of relationships is what Alexandra Munroe hopes will give American audiences a jolt. “Let’s take a look at his installation work ‘Relatum — dialogue b’ (2009). Steel means industry and symbolizes city and building. By contrast, stone is from nature. Lee Ufan focuses on the relationship between the two components.

He shows the dialogue between them. It is very conceptual and dynamic. It will hit the egos of many American viewers hard. They will feel something intrude from outside. It is the purpose of the exhibition to make the viewers receive more than merely a view of the artworks themselves.”

‘My Art Had to be Different’ Why did he want to deal with the invisible? Born in Haman, South Gyeongsang Province, Korea in 1936, Lee was taught writing and drawing by a scholar of Chinese classics during his childhood. His teacher praised his drawings but dissuaded

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“For me, artwork should make the viewers sense a higher, more distant, and larger world than they can see. It should open up a space and initiate viewers to experience a bigger world beyond their sight.”

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him from continuing to draw. He would state: “Drawing pictures is not a proper occupation for a man. A man should become a scholar or a politician.” The young child became confused and came to think that drawing pictures and imitating things as they are was a lowly activity and devoid of status (but he considered music great art because it was invisible).

In 1956, he entered the College of Fine Arts at Seoul National University, but in the summer of the same year, he left for Japan. His father had ordered him to deliver traditional Korean medicines to an uncle living in Japan.

His uncle, however, wanted him to stay in Japan. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Lee decided to study something new because he had not been all that excited about studying art in Seoul. He wanted to study literature but needed to first study philosophy to acquire a foundation.

For this, he transferred to the Department of Philosophy at Nihon University in Tokyo. It was not easy to study literature in a foreign language that he had yet to master.

“I was also interested in politics and looked into that

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briefly, but eventually gave it up. It didn’t fit my temperament to oppose things just for opposition’s sake. And then, after being befriended by artists, I imitated them and created some works of art. But my art had to be different. It was not enough to imitate things as they are. For me, artwork should make the viewers sense a higher, more distant, and larger world than they can see. It should open up a space and initiate viewers to experience a bigger world beyond their sight. Of course, this was all thought out later.”

Global Nomad Lee Ufan is an exemplar among contemporary Korean artists. His artworks commanded the highest prices among works by Koreans at international art auctions in 2009. According to the 2009 annual report of Artprice (www.artprice.com), an online site that assesses international art markets, the total paid for his works in that year amounted to $4,160,000, ranking him 164th for all artists in recent history. He ranks 30th among living artists, and 13th among living Asian artists. His works have been sold at 65 auction events, fetching the highest price of $696,600 for a single piece.

Lee taught at Tama Art University in Tokyo from 1973 to 2007, and was also a visiting professor at École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. He has also been awarded various honors. The Lee Ufan Art Museum in Naoshima, built by the architect Ando

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1. “Relatum — silence b” (2008) 2. The Guggenheim Museum’s unique architecture resembles a coiled steel spring.

3. “From Line” (1977) 4. “Dialogue” (2010)

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Tadao and opened in 2010, has become a popular attraction for people on art tours, averaging some 1,700 visitors a day.

Now a prominent artist who is known as a global nomad, Lee has had to endure a lonely struggle to pursue his art. “I was not the graduate of an art school, so I had nobody guiding and supporting me. I had to act aggressively to survive. Sometimes, I was accepted, but then criticized and excluded, as I stood out. I had to fight in order not to be excluded. Moreover, I was discriminated against as a Japanese in Korea and as a Korean in Japan.

In Europe, I was discriminated against as an Asian, so I would be left off the list even though I had been recommended…I was always on the margins and alone. But I’ve never said to myself: ‘I can’t try any more because I’m discriminated against.’ As soon as I say that, I would have to admit to being a loser.”

The exhibition at the Guggenheim is another challenge for Lee. The Guggenheim Museum features a unique architecture and challenging interior. The white building,

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designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, looks like a coiled steel spiral in which the artworks are viewed as you walk along a circular ramp, whether going up or coming down. Even the director of the museum, Richard Armstrong, has said: “Our space is so unique that every artist has a difficult time getting control of it. A very strong personality is required. It is an immense challenge for artists.”

For Lee, who seeks to attain harmony between his artwork and space, the continuous museum space was wholly foreign. He therefore insisted on the white, cube-shaped annex-level galleries for his exhibition. The director, however, encouraged Lee to also make use of the main exhibition space, to which these galleries are linked. Lee said: “I checked the space several times and then came to think that it might constitute a new challenge for me, since you can even see the artworks where the ramp curves around on the opposite side as you walk along.

I became enthusiastic about using this unique space for my works, along with the white-cubed space of the annex level. In this exhibition, you can see 90 pieces all together, of drawings, paintings, and sculptures. I’m also curious what they will say to me in this new space.”

The retrospective exhibition, which is being presented from June 24 through September 28, has been made possible with lead sponsorship from Samsung and additional support from the Korea Foundation, the Japan Foundation, and the E. Rhodes and Leona B. Carpenter Foundation.

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On the Road

Bukchon, or the “Northern Village,� is a district in Seoul where tile-roofed traditional Korean houses still stand along old roads and alleyways. Located just north of central Seoul, the 10 or so neighborhoods, which are collectively known as Bukchon, encompass Samcheong-dong and Gahoe-dong of Jongno-gu, nestled within the embrace of Gyeongbok and Changdeok palaces.

Kim Yoo-kyung Journalist | Ha Ji-kwon Photographer

Bukchon

Delightful Glimpse into the Seoul of Bygone Days

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n a deeper and more symbolic sense, Bukchon refers to the broader areas of Seoul where the spiritual heritage and living culture of the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) have been relatively well preserved. On a spiritual level, the boundaries of Bukchon extend beyond its administrative borders to include all the sites of historical significance both within and outside the capital’s former territory defined by its four main gates.

Traditional rituals of Confucian, Buddhist, shamanistic and scholarly origins are still kept alive in these areas.

As these neighborhoods of tile-roofed houses, or hanok , have gained popularity as a tourist attraction, people increasingly come by for a glimpse of the essence of traditional Seoul. Until less than a decade ago, though it now seems hard to imagine, Bukchon was considered a depressed corner of the city with deteriorating old homes, shuttered palaces, and forgotten relics of bygone eras scattered about — in stark contrast to the booming development of Gangnam, the upscale residential and commercial district in southern Seoul.

There was a time when demolishing outdated houses and building new Western-style housing complexes was thought to be the only feasible redevelopment approach for this neglected area. The remnants

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This hanok neighborhood, found within the innermost recesses of Gahoe-dong, is a highlight of Bukchon’s graceful scenery.

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of various multi-unit housing projects and a few widened and straightened roads in some areas of Bukchon are the results of this redevelopment initiative undertaken in the 1990s.

In the meantime, traditional homes have been under mounting pressure to modernize, causing many to simply disappear. Longtime area residents often lament that today’s Bukchon is “too frivolous” and “no longer like the old days.” Indeed, the stately traditional buildings at the entrance to the area have been hit hard by modernization, including the Andong Detached Palace and various mansions where royal family members resided, which have since vanished. The disappearance of timeworn houses and roads also eroded the area’s dignified atmosphere.

1. Modern light fixtures hanging from the rafters of a traditional hanok residence symbolize its adaptation to the life of contemporary Koreans.

2. Nowadays, the streets of Samcheongdong, of the Bukchon area, are almost always bustling with people and traffic.

Revival of Bukchon Fortunately, Bukchon was revived just in time, before all was forever lost, as ever more Koreans came to appreciate its value as an attractive representation of their traditional heritage. This community’s historical roots are so deep that

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a house once owned by Park Heung-sik, a wealthy entrepreneur in the early 20th century, is today one of the most coveted properties by the well-to-do of the present generation.

In Bukchon, community spirit is clearly alive and well. A prominent musician who just moved into this area recalled his first walk around the neighborhood, where he was greeted by his neighbors with a heartwarming welcome. It is common here to see people share their food, like kimchi, and to give gifts, such as rice cake, to neighbors on special occasions. Geographically as well, Bukchon has long been considered an ideal location for living. It sits on the sunny, south-facing slope of a gentle hill, open to fresh air and surrounded by graceful natural scenery. It is also close to the center of the city.

You can get to Bukchon by taking any of the four or five alleyways leading northward from the main road at the Anguk subway station. Although all routes are pleasant for a leisurely walk, with occasional spots to relax, the busier road to Samcheong-dong, along the walls of Gyeongbok Palace, offers the most direct access. This road continues for about 1.5 kilometers to Samcheong Tunnel, rising and dipping alongside the terrain of Maenghyeon Hill, soaring

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The homes that used to line the road have since been converted into all manner of shops in recent years, such that the road is constantly bustling with cars and pedestrians. Today, this road is the liveliest area in Bukchon, crowded with a wide variety of ethnic restaurants, cafĂŠs, and galleries. high to the right. The homes that used to line the road have since been converted into all manner of shops in recent years, such that the road is constantly bustling with cars and pedestrians.

Today, this road is the liveliest area in Bukchon, crowded with a wide variety of ethnic restaurants, cafĂŠs, and galleries. But you can still have a quiet time to unwind or meditate in the outdoor lecture hall of Beomnyeon Temple. A pious member of this temple has caringly tended to the lovely potted plants here with professional dedication, as a form of offering to the Buddha. The back alleys are lined with small workshops and galleries in which young artists work on their creations.

People walk this road leisurely, browsing at whatever might catch their eye and enjoying the ambience. Although the narrow sidewalk tends to slope up and down, this minor

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challenge is taken in stride. Exploring the alleyways and hiking up and down Maenghyeon Hill, you can enjoy a relaxing journey back to the past. From this neighborhood, you can return to the downtown area near Gwanghwamun, the recently restored main entrance of Gyeongbok Palace, in a matter of minutes.

Maenghyeon, the hill that rises up from the side of Samcheong-dong road, was named after the 14th-century court official Maeng Sa-seong, who is said to have gone up and down the hill on the back of an ox, playing a flute. Nowadays, people will ride over this hill with a car rather than an ox. On both sides of the main road, large galleries and trendy shops, vital businesses of the cultural sector, settled here from early on. Designer Lee Rhee-za, who has operated her traditional Korean dress boutique here for over 40 years, noted:

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“There is something about Bukchon that keeps you awake. I would have earned more money had I moved my boutique to the more affluent Gangnam. However, Bukchon has many elite institutions, which makes it easier for me to observe the fashion trends of high-class women, including the first lady. It is not just expensive, fashionable, or glamorous clothing that they are looking for, because they know that no matter how luxurious an outfit might be, they can’t wear it if it is not in accordance with protocol or etiquette.”

The cozy, classical alleys lined by traditional homes in Bukchon draw streams of curious visitors around the year.

Cultural Enterprises Walking along the streets of Samcheong-dong, you can sometimes stumble upon attractive works of art. In the show window of a small shop, I once found an exquisite celadon vessel in the shape of a lotus leaf. The streets are also home to numerous antique stores. Constant traffic congestion is one flaw in this otherwise ideal area for leisurely strolling. On weekends, especially, there are so many people around that you have to struggle to make your way through the crowds.

The neighborhood of old traditional homes clustered

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tightly in areas of Gahoe-dong is the quintessential feature of the Bukchon landscape. Walking through the neighborhood of tile-roofed houses is a remarkable contrast from passing by a jungle of identical apartment buildings. The residents feel a sense of familiarity with their neighbors, even if they don’t know one another personally, because they share a community spirit. Those who know each other well would never fail to keep a courteous distance, which is characteristic of the people of Seoul. This attitude may be a final remnant of the quiet acquiescence of longtime Seoulites.

In this neighborhood where more than 900 tile-roofed hanok are clustered, the curved lines of corrugated roofs of faded old tiles form a unique skyline of familiar stateliness.

This is the only neighborhood with such a high concentration of traditional-style Korean homes, facing one another across every alley. And here, you can have a glimpse of the 600-year history of Seoul and the everyday life of city residents.

Alleyways run through the neighborhood between the houses, widening and narrowing as they extend onward.

The delightful pleasure of wandering about Bukchon comes from allowing these old paths to take you in unknown directions. With no tall buildings around to block the sun, the

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entire neighborhood basks in sunlight, cozy and warm.

At one alley, a young boy calls out to his pet dog, while in another a stylish woman sets out to walk her large dog.

Cozy Alleyways In Gahoe-dong, the hanok homes, of varying sizes from 11 to 1,000 pyeong (1 pyeong equals 3.3 square meters), have survived the redevelopment onslaught thanks to their location on a steep hillside and roads too narrow to accommodate construction equipment. Having been home to the countless residents who have lived and worked in this neighborhood during the last 600 years, Gahoe-dong lives on.

On the southern edge of Gahoe-dong, the Constitutional Court stands on the former site of the Dowager Queen Jo’s family residence in the 19th century, which was later used as a center for the reformist movement during the enlightenment period. After the reformists were found guilty of treason and summarily executed, the state took possession of the property. The site of the childhood home of Empress Yun, the consort of Emperor Sunjong (r. 1907-1910), the last king of Joseon, which had been transformed into a housing complex for U.S. Embassy staff, is now a vacant lot of the Samsung Group. The house where two of Emperor Gojong’s concubines lived, outside the palace, is now a Buddhist temple.

Once grand residences now have only their roofs and frames intact; some have been turned into retail facilities, with the rows of rooms of the former servants’ quarters now filled with small shops of every kind. In Tongeui-dong, to the west of Gyeongbok Palace, there used to be homes of royal eunuchs. The structures were said to have been built with secret rooms and labyrinthine passages.

The traditional houses of affluent families in Insa-dong also experienced a similar fate. Because the owners dismantled and sold off structures piecemeal, they no longer have the elegant character of a traditional-style residence with a spacious courtyard and separate quarters. In Chebu-dong, where only the frameworks of ordinary houses remain, you can see signs expressing the residents’ opposition to the preservation of the original neighborhood.

A woman I met in Bukchon said: “I run early every morning all through Bukchon, and I really like this lovely neighborhood. Looking over Gyeongbok Palace at sunrise, I’ve come to appreciate just how beautiful Seoul is.”

Essayist Na Seong-gyun, who has lived in Bukchon for

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over 50 years, remarks: “I love the calm mornings when I set out to buy rice cake for my breakfast and then come back to my home in Samcheong-dong, walking through the alleyways amid the traditional homes in Gahoe-dong.”

The traditional ceremonies held in Bukchon every year give you a deeper sense of the Korean spirit that cannot be experienced by simply wandering the alleyways and viewing the hanok. The royal ancestral rites at Jongmyo, one of the most important Confucian ceremonies in Korea, is a timehonored ritual to commemorate the kings and queens of the Joseon Dynasty. When Seonggyungwan Academy opens its facilities to the public, every March and September, visitors can look around Joseon’s primary institution of advanced learning.

In September each year, Sajikdan, the altar for the land and grain gods, serves as a venue for rites with a mystical intrigue and a history dating back thousands of years, well before Buddhism and Confucianism found their way into Korea. Not far from this state facility of Joseon, there are shamanic shrines dedicated to mountain spirits, where more humble gut rituals continue to be performed throughout the year. All these events, in and around Bukchon, make it a unique area to have a taste of traditional Korean culture.

Once Upon a Time in Bukchon Whenever I think of Bukchon, I always recall a memorable scene at the hanok residence of a popular folk musician. The late Kim So-hui (1917-1995), a renowned performer of pansori , a form of traditional Korean vocal music, often invited her artist and journalist friends to her home. At one gathering, the guests staged an impromptu concert, in which musicians played the gayageum and geomungo zithers, to which a dancer performed salpuri for a spiritual cleansing. Dancer Yi Mae-bang also joined in to present his highly acclaimed hourglass-drum dance. The performance filled the house with mirth.

Kim So-hui sang Schubert’s “Ave Maria,” one of her favorite songs, with a wonderful flair. That day, it was raining. Someone made zucchini pancakes and shared it with us.

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‘Great Korean Portraits’ Cho Sun-mie, Dolbegae Publishers, 352 pages, 50,000 won ($45)

Book Review

Ancient Portraits Provide Glimpses of Korea’s History and Culture

Artists of the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) painted portraits with the belief that the incorrect depiction of even a single strand of hair would end up making the subject a different person. They adhered to such rigorous attention to detail so that they might capture not only the outward appearance but also the inner spirit of the subject.

Great Korean Portraits

Koreans in those days regarded portraits of their ancestors or the sages as

their physical manifestations deserving veneration rather than mere artworks. As

such, in times of war or natural catastrophe, they would save their family portraits and ancestral tablets before anything else. Joseon portrait paintings, however, did not attempt to reveal the subject’s psychological state or individual temperament as in the self-portraits of Rembrandt and Van Gogh, or the portrait of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the 17th-century Japanese shogun.

Written by Cho Sun-mie, professor of art at Sungkyunkwan University, “Great Korean Portraits” explores these characteristics of Korean portraits, focusing

on the period between the Goguryeo Kingdom (37 B.C.-A.D. 668), when portraits

were produced in abundance in tomb murals, and the Joseon Dynasty. Subtitled “Immortal Images of the Noble and the Brave,” this English edition, an edited ver-

sion of “Korean Portrait Painting: An Art of Forms and Images” (2009), is designed for general readers as well as Korean Studies researchers.

The World of Korean Trees, Vol. 1, 2

The original Korean edition presents portraits of 74 historical figures, including kings, the literati, meritorious retainers, women, and monks. It discusses style,

expressive techniques, and even the lives of the subjects, and offers comparisons

to Chinese and Japanese portraits from various perspectives. This English edition

Kim Hak-soon Journalist

features the portraits of 50 individuals of historical and artistic importance selected from the original book. The content has been edited to give readers a glimpse of Korean history and culture through the portraits and related stories.

The first art historian to earn a Ph.D. in Korea, the author has studied portraits for nearly 40 years and is recognized as a pioneer in the field. “While Chinese portraits emphasized the subject’s social position or status and Japanese portraits tended to stress or distort the subject’s personal traits, Joseon portraits surpassed their contemporary counterparts in terms of realistic representation,” she said.

According to the author, the empty background is also a distinctive feature of Joseon portraits. Unlike the Chinese and Japanese practice of adding ser-

The Road Not Taken is More Beautiful

vant boys or maids in the background of a portrait to reveal the subject’s wealth, power, and dignity, Joseon painters used no such device to reflect the person’s social status, refinement, or tastes. In addition, the aesthetic distortions and alterations that Chinese, Japanese and even European portrait painters utilized to express individuality are not found in Korean portraits of the Joseon period.

“Great Korean Portraits” has been edited and translated into English by Lee Kyong-hee, former editor-in-chief of The Korea Herald. Thanks to her meticulous editing and practical translation, general readers as well as professionals will be able to readily enjoy this book.

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A Scientist’s Cultural Account of Trees: ‘There Is a Story Hidden in Every Tree’

The Last Collection of Essays Bequeathed by ‘The Storyteller of Our Time’

‘The World of Korean Trees’ (Vol. 1, 2)

‘The Road Not Taken is More Beautiful’

Park Sang-jin, Gimmyoung Publishers, 608 pages (Vol. 1), 572 pages (Vol. 2), 30,000 won

Park Wan-suh, Hyundae Munhak (Modern Literature), 268 pages, 12,000 won

Trees bear witness to a country’s history and culture. Trees

Park Wan-suh, a masterful contemporary Korean writer, is

share people’s joys and sorrows. Trees, which live for hundreds or

known by several nicknames. One is “active-duty writer,” apt for a

even thousands of years, have sometimes played a leading role in

novelist who never lost her passion for writing until her death at the

folktales. What makes this book an excellent work of the humani-

age of 80, in January 2011. Park was 40 years old when she made

ties rather than simply an ecological treatise is the inspiring story-

her belated literary debut in 1970. Over the next 40 years she pro-

telling that forms its framework. This colossal book on trees as cul-

duced numerous works that have provided healing and consola-

tural resources has been written by one of the foremost authorities

tion for both herself and her readers. Park was “the mother of the

in the field: Park Sang-jin, a dendrologist and professor emeritus of

literary scene,” who provided an example to younger writers with

Kyungpook National University.

her unwavering dedication to her work. She also had keen insight

The author has selected 242 trees, out of the more than 1,000

into the human condition and described people in a clear and unre-

native Korean species, and classified them into such categories as

served style for which she was known as “the storyteller of our

trees with beautiful flowers, fruit-bearing trees, trees with medici-

time.”

nal efficacy, garden trees, and roadside trees. The interesting

Born in the vicinity of Gaeseong (Kaesong, North Korea), Park

accounts that he tells about these trees are the result of his pains-

lived through the tragic war that underlies the modern history of

taking research, which included analyses of information related to

Korea. Her personal experiences of the war and her sorrow over

trees from various sources encompassing the four major works of

the loss of her hometown and deaths of her family members found

historical literature —“The History of the Three Kingdoms,” “Mem-

expression as stories of love, reconciliation, and forgiveness.

orabilia of the Three Kingdoms,” “History of Goryeo,” and “The

A collection of essays published in the summer of 2010, “The

Annals of the Joseon Dynasty” — as well as classical novels, literary

Road Not Taken is More Beautiful” is Park’s final work, in which she

anthologies, poetry collections, and works of modern and contem-

once again describes her unforgettable experiences of the tragic

porary literature.

war. She confesses: “I have consistently written about the Korean

A love story about the prominent Confucian scholar Yi Hwang

War — to the extent that I sometimes think I wouldn’t have become

(1501-1570) and a professional entertainer named Duhyang is

a novelist had I not lived through the war. But I feel I still have more

centered around a plum tree. Yi’s love for plum blossoms was so

to say about it.” Her remark that she might probably have taken

extraordinary that he wrote 91 poems on the subject, which he com-

the path of an academic had the war never occurred enables us to

piled into an anthology. According to the story, Duhyang fell in love

guess what she means by the book’s title, especially in relation to

with Yi when he was the magistrate of Danyang and presented him

Robert Frost’s classic poem: “The Road Not Taken.” In this book,

with a rare plum tree with bluish-white flowers. Yi was so deeply

she expresses her last hope to readers: “I hope never to lose my

moved by the beautiful tree that this opened his heart to Duhyang.

resilience of mind until the day God decides to take me out of this

Later, the tree was transplanted at Dosan Academy, a Confucian

world, because I still wish to write more good works and to be loved

school dedicated to Yi, and it is even mentioned in his last words:

and needed in this life.”

“Go and water the plum tree.” Today, the Korean 1,000-won note depicts images of Yi Hwang and the plum tree at Dosan Academy.

Park’s last book generated such a positive response that it was listed as one of the 10 greatest books of 2010 by The Hankyoreh

This book also introduces the trees that have inspired renowned

newspaper. Starting with her debut novel, “The Naked Tree,” Park

Joseon artists, such as Kim Hong-do, Shin Yun-bok and Jeong

produced a wide range of works including novels and short-sto-

Seon, and other trees that appear in the 20th-century poetry of Kim

ry collections — “A Faltering Afternoon,” “A Very Old Joke,” “The

Sowol and Yu Chi-hwan. The book is rich in visual content, including

Loneliness of You,” “Who Ate Up All the Singa?” and “Kindhearted

some 700 photographs and almost 50 old paintings of trees. Those

Bok-hee” — and collections of essays — “Applause for the Back

interested in further reading on the subject would find the author’s

Marker,” “Why I Am Infuriated Only by the Small Stuff,” and “A Hoe.”

previous books useful: “The Secret of the Woodblocks of the Tripitaka Koreana,” “Trees Carved with History: Trees Speak of Thousand Years of Life,” and “Trees in Korean Palaces: My Exploration of Trees as Cultural Heritage.”

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1

1. Young students practice IBS (inflatable boat small) maneuvers at the Youth Training Camp of the Marine Corps, which is meant to simulate actual basic training.

2. Recruits are proud to receive the signature crimson name patch of the ROK Marine Corps after overcoming six weeks of “hell training.�

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Lifestyle

Youths Fall In to Join the Marine Corps

Actor Hyun Bin waves to his fans as he enters the Marine Corps training camp in Pohang, North Gyeongsang Province, on March 7 to begin his military service.

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n the parade grounds awaiting inspection, a company of Marine Corpsmen snaps smartly to attention. In combat boots, crimson name patches with gold lettering, angular hats, hair cut tight on the top and shaved clean on the sides, from their neat appearance to the sharp tone of their report, you can tell that these are not members of the regular armed forces, but of an elite group.

Top Stars Enter the Marines

The Republic of Korea Marine Corps was founded on April 15, 1949, about one year before the Korean War broke out on June 25, 1950. Fighting alongside the Allied troops who came to their country’s defense, ROK Marines quickly earned the moniker “Ghost Catchers.” Today, the Marine Corps is a frequent topic of conversation in even the most unlikely circles.

Never have these special forces received so much flattering media attention.

Singers and actors in Korea now proudly reveal their Marine pedigree when appearing on entertainment shows. During the last three months, public interest has reached a fever pitch when top star Hyun Bin (Kim Taepyeong) chose to enlist with the Marines for his military duty. He has since been serving in Unit 1137.

On the day of Hyun Bin’s induction into the Marine Corps, lodging facilities and restaurants in Pohang City enjoyed an unexpected bonanza as fans from As pop stars at the top of their careers volunteer to enlist in the Marine Corps to Korea, Japan, China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, fulfill their mandatory military service, legions of fans and young Koreans have come and various other Asian countries descendto sing their praises and follow their lead. Joining the Marines is increasingly seen ed upon the Marine training facility, as early as the day before, to extend their best as a means to vault to the top tier of Korea’s intensely competitive society. wishes. Even President Lee Myung-bak, Kim Dang Journalist supreme commander of Korea’s armed forces, took note of this positive development with his comment: “Hyun Bin has the right mindset.”

All this recent media attention and the enthusiasm that Korean youth show toward the Marines are not due solely to the influence of these pop stars. Indeed, service in Korea’s Marine Corps has long been regarded as a valuable social experience.

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Attributes to Die For A recent opinion survey by the Maeil Business Newspaper of Koreans in their twenties, which it refers to as “Generation S,” has revealed notable findings. The survey, which looked into the social consciousness and values of Koreans in this age group, found out that societal polarization, rampant competitiveness, employment difficulties, and an insecure job market have all contributed to a sense of unease for this generation, who regard “intense struggle” and “amassing ‘specs’ for survival” as the primary challenges of their lives.

In his response to the survey, a Korea University sophomore stressed the importance of belonging to the right social groups. And for this reason, he selected the Marines for his mandatory military service. “Korea University for academics; the Marines for the mili-

January: “My heart was racing after I completed the final March to Cheonja Peak and received the crimson name badge, symbolizing that I was a Marine.”

Boot Camps for Students In August 2005, the ROK Marine Corps recorded a milestone with the formation of its 1000th Unit. The Marine Corps Institute for Strategic Studies sought to uncover the reasons for enlistment by the men in Units 1000 and 1001. The “toughness of the Corps” was easily (61 percent) the most frequently cited factor. This was followed by “the option to select an enlistment date” (19 percent), the Marines’ “stalwart image” (14 percent), and “strong recommendation” (6 percent).

Three out of four young recruits selected the Marine Corps for its

According to the 2010 Defense White Paper released by the Ministry of National Defense, the ROK Marine Corps (2 divisions and 1 brigade) makes up just 4.2 percent of the 650,000-member military force of Korea, thereby embodying the U.S. Marines’ recruiting slogan: “A Few Good Men.” Although few in number, Korea’s Marines, like their American counterparts, are highly regarded for their mental and physical prowess and tactical strategy on the battlefield. tary; the Jeolla region for your birthplace and childhood friendships —in today’s Korean society anyone with roots in all these three backgrounds will be as all-powerful as a Terminator.”

The Marines are charged with the responsibility of protecting Seoul by deterring incursions from islands to its west and northwest, and staging landing maneuvers in times of war or emergency. Landing maneuvers evoke images of water-borne deployment of troops to their intended destination; but in fact, the Marines mobilize all types of transport, including armored vehicles, amphibious vessels, and aircraft in their operations. Because the ROK Marines are a multifunctional fast-response military unit, its troops receive rigorous training in order to fulfill their mission and to respond to any emergency situation. The difficulty of the training that the recruits must survive is second only to actual combat. Indeed, the Marine Corps is a lean, mean, ever-ready amphibious force.

The Marine motto, “The more we sweat in training, the less we bleed in battle,” well underlines the culture of the ROK Marines, who are tasked with penetrating enemy lines to disrupt their operations, while securing beachheads for the advance of friendly forces.

The six-week training for new recruits is fittingly called “hell training,” due to the reputation it has earned for its rigorous, demanding process of turning each recruit into a troop member worthy of wearing the Marines insignia. The vaunted tenacity of these few and proud Marines begins with the painful demands of the arduous training. Thirty-year-old singer Lee Jung (Unit 1080), who completed his service and was discharged in August 2010, said in an interview this

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toughness and stalwart image.

In 2003, a marketing research institute assessing the competitiveness of domestic brands confirmed this attraction. Polling revealed that Korea’s “representative brands” were led by Samsung Electronics mobile phones, LPGA professional golfer Pak Se-ri (Se Ri Pak), U.S. Major League baseball pitcher Park Chan-ho (Chan Ho Park), and the ROK Marine Corps. Interest in the Marines began to rise around 1997, when Korea weathered the consequences of the Asian financial crisis. At that time, the Marine Corps launched a social outreach campaign that allowed young people to experience military training through a “Youth Training Camp” program.

Young students still years away or exempted from military service signed up for the opportunity to undergo five days and four nights of commando training, which included mountain trekking, mass grave detection simulation, and IBS (inflatable boat small) maneuvers that closely approximate actual Marine Corps training, under the tutelage of veteran instructors. The boot camps, open to male and female middleand high-school students, as well as office workers, were operated during the summer and winter vacation periods at Pohang and Gimpo.

Program demand has been so heavy that it is not possible to accommodate all applicants. Due to this overflow, similar privatelyrun boot camps are now offered at some 15 locations. At 150 to 300 participants per session, the Marine Corps has conducted some 95 training camps for youths, at the rate of three to four per year. That’s nearly 30,000 youths who now can declare: “Once a Marine always a Marine.”

Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

Once a Marine Always a Marine The popularity of the Marine Corps is related to the nation’s mandatory military service, under which all able Korean males must serve. Those who do not fulfill their military obligation, for whatever reason, are known to face a social stigma, especially since South Korea continues to be confronted by the militaristic North Korea.

While various young men will attempt to evade their military responsibility, the trend toward completing one’s service with pride, particularly by entering the Marine Corps, is far more prevalent.

Like its American model and counterpart, the ROK Marine Corps is noted for the esprit de corps that bonds its members together, an elite consciousness encapsulated in the proud slogan: “If anybody could become a Marine, I would not have chosen to do so.”

According to the 2010 Defense White Paper released by the Ministry of National Defense, the ROK Marine Corps (2 divisions and 1 brigade) makes up just 4.2 percent of the 650,000-member military force of Korea, thereby embodying the U.S. Marines’ recruiting slogan: “A Few Good Men.” Although few in number, Korea’s Marines, like their American counterparts, are highly regarded for their mental and physical prowess and tactical strategy on the battlefield. This proud reputation has motivated ever more young Koreans to join the Marines.

As compared to the Army or other ROK military branches, the Marine Corps truly exemplifies a “few elite.” Compared to other countries’ forces as well, the ROK Marines are, in numbers and quality, among the best of the best. In troop numbers, after the United States,

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Participants of a Youth Training Camp practice boarding a Korean armored amphibious vehicle (KAAV).

France, and Taiwan, the ROK Marine Corps ranks fourth among some 50 countries worldwide. Annual training with the U.S. Marines during the ROK-U.S. joint military exercises has confirmed that Korean Marines deserve recognition as one of the world’s best elite forces.

Media attention on national security issues certainly helps to boost military enlistment numbers. Moreover, the media spotlight on the Marine Corps’ defense preparedness in response to the Yeonpyeong Island shelling in November 2010 — the first time since the Korean War armistice that North Korean forces directly attacked South Korean territory — has also contributed to an upsurge in Marine Corps enlistment. According to the Office of Military Manpower Administration, the competition for enlistment reached a peak in January, when the ratio of applicants to positions stood at 4.5 to 1, with 4,553 men vying for 1,011 available slots.

During the surprise North Korean artillery assault on Yeonpyeong, two ROK Marines stationed on the island were killed in action, but their fellow troops were impressed by the adeptness of the Marines’ quick and measured response, even as shells fell on their positions.

A Korean bank has offered a job to one Marine who courageously returned fire with his helmet aflame, after he completes his service.

The stalwart image of the Marines, which is utilized in recruitment publicity, may have factored into this decision.

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Journeys in Korean Literature

It is through his short stories in particular that Yoon Dae-nyeong has received recognition for the aesthetic refinement of his writing.

Surely this is not unrelated to

CRITIQUE

Quiet Harmony of Shade and Space Bok Do-hoon Literary Critic

the fact that Yoon’s sentences are so uniquely poetic, and that his works read much like a lengthy work of prose poetry.

Yoon Dae-nyeong

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riter Yoon Dae-nyeong, born in 1962, studied French Literature and worked as a journalist for various fashion magazines before receiving the New Writer Award in 1990 from the monthly magazine Literature and Thought. Thereafter, Yoon has gone on to establish himself as a prolific writer and one of Korea’s leading literary voices. A recipient of several well-known literary awards, Yoon trod the path of a full-time writer until just a few years ago, when he accepted a position at Dongduk Women’s University to teach creative writing. “Taengja” is a story that Yoon wrote in 2005, during a year of self-imposed exile on Jeju Island.

Yoon Dae-nyeong is a prolific writer. Over the course of his career thus far he has published six volumes of short stories, eight fulllength novels, one short novel, and one novella. His first collection of short stories, “The Sweetfish Fishing Correspondence” (1994), has been praised as an outstanding work of art. Its two separate issues — the sentiments of one’s own origins, as embedded in the recurrence of a school of sweetfish, and the loneliness of urban life, as symbolized by the running correspondence — are harmoniously merged into one through his fascinating poetic style. Over time, Yoon’s mastery of both content and style has evolved and undergone subtle variations.

For example, in his recent collection of short stories, “Warnings of a Heavy Snowfall” (2010), you can see a deepening quest of the secular life. Yoon’s recent works have only grown in their ability to warm the hearts of readers; his simple, quiet, spacious sentences remind us that the sacred and the secular once were, at their origin, one and the same.

It is through his short stories in particular that Yoon Dae-nyeong has received recognition for the aesthetic refinement of his writing.

Surely this is not unrelated to the fact that Yoon’s sentences are so uniquely poetic, and that his works read much like a lengthy work of prose poetry. If you were to pick a foreign writer who might be compared to Yoon Dae-nyeong, in terms of literary style, it would, no doubt, be the French writer J.M.G. Le Clezio (1940-) who would first come to mind. A Koreaphile and a recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2008, Le Clezio and Yoon are, in fact, well acquainted with each other.

Few would disagree with the statement that Yoon Dae-nyeong stands as a true trailblazer of Korean literature for having opened

Ko re a n Cu l tu re & A rts

up heretofore unexplored vistas of Korea’s literary aesthetics in the 1990s. Those who began their writing careers in the mid-nineties here in Korea tended to focus their efforts largely on intricately detailed descriptions of the loneliness, meetings, and partings of young city dwellers, as characters who dreamt of somehow escaping the bleakness and alienation of urban life. Yoon’s poetic sentences took this new genre and created what we might call the aesthetics of epiphany, a kind of seismograph that captured the minute fissures of everyday life.

It was this seismograph that proved quite sensitive to the transcendent and poetic revelations which, every now and then, visit with such intensity the individuals who have been exhausted by the nonessential and insipid vagary of life in the city. Intriguing as well is that in these same works of Yoon’s, written during the nineties, the medium of the revelations in question is never nature itself, but rather things that are man-made. For example, in his first full-length novel, “I Went to See an Old Movie,” the moment when Yoon’s protagonist realizes that he has been oblivious of his own being, while living a life full of nothingness, comes not when a gust of wind violently shakes the leaves, but instead when he hears the sound of a flock of birds in The Beatles’ song “Across the Universe,” flowing out of a downtown record store. While it is true that throughout the 1990s, Yoon’s protagonists were all embarking on an arduous journey somewhere beyond the horizon, their desperate gestures were not movements toward an escape from life but rather toward a recovery of validity. Such was the world of Yoon Dae-nyeong’s fiction before a gradual shift in focus that came about with the onset of the new millennium.

I would like to understand this shift as a change of his perspective from that of a nomad to that of a settler. It may, however, be more accurate to call it an amicable union between the sensibility of a nomad and a settler. Yoon’s poetic descriptions remain intact on the other side of this shift; the change lies instead in his lens. For example, when he describes a painting, which happens to share the title of Manet’s painting “The Luncheon on the Grass” (included in his recent short story collection “Warnings of a Heavy Snowfall”), Yoon concentrates on the quiet harmony of shade and space, as if gazing upon an Oriental-style landscape in India ink rather than a Western painting usually characterized by a dazzling display of color and volume.

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It is also possible to sense this change in “Taengja” (an outstanding short story originally published in the collection “Raising Swallows”), in even the placement of a period; but it becomes as clear as day with his use of the Chinese idiom, gyul-hwa-wi-ji . The literal translation of this phrase is: “the tangerine becomes a taengja.” The didactic lesson behind this saying can be understood this way: As a tangerine from the South becomes a taengja when it is transplanted to the North, so does a person change when his circumstances are different.

The function of gyul-hwa-wi-ji in “Taengja,” however, is not as a moral anecdote. Instead, the saying is reborn as a literary mechanism — one that reveals the profound enlightenment existing in the writer’s pen. An aunt, who was treated as a “scullery maid” by her own family, pays a visit to her middle-aged nephew late in her life (for no other reason than that, as a child, he was the only family member who ever showed any sympathy for her plight). She confides in him, albeit with restraint, speaking of the trials and privations she has suffered throughout her life. She shares her wishes and resentments, her tears and her smiles; there are meetings and partings, laughter and tears. The nephew, for his part, deals with his aunt in a civil manner. Yet his ultimate inability to understand her leaves him utterly bewildered up through the very day of her departure. And so when, at the end of the story, we are obliquely given the news of her death, the narrator and the reader alike feel the numbness of a heart facing the onset of a painful reality.

“Taengja” is a moving story, and not because the life of a humble woman has been sublimated into a work of poetry. Neither is it because the tangerine becomes a taengja. Rather, it reveals that a tangerine can never become a taengja, or vice versa. A taengja is a taengja, a tangerine is a tangerine, and a humble woman is a humble woman. And in this way, each grows, ripens, and gracefully faces its respective finality. The taengja she brought to Jeju Island, on this final summer of her life, soon turn yellow, just like the island’s native tangerines, during the autumn of her death.

With this harmony of departure and return, nomad and settler, secularity and transcendence, the style of Yoon Dae-nyeong’s prose in “Taengja” stands as a rare exposition of the heights of contemporary Korean literature.

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IMAGE OF KOREA

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n Jeju Island, the beautiful jewel of Korea, enchanting waves of yellow rapeseed flowers swell beyond the walls of black basalt that line the fields rolling along the wind-swept watercolor land-

scape. This profusion of floral brilliance, in exquisite harmony with the stone walls, remains vividly in the mind’s eye of anyone who visits the isle of Jeju to take in its natural charm. The fragrance of the rapeseed flowers flows through and beyond the stone walls. Amidst a field of vibrant blooms surging like the rising tide, body and mind are intoxicated by the heady scent, such that I cannot tell if it is the flowers or myself that are swaying more in the breeze. Is there anyone who would not be mesmerized by this brilliant yellow in the dazzling southern sun?

The Golden Waves of Jeju Island

In spring, the island seems to dance in a spectacular festival of rape flowers. Visitors walking the Olle Trail amble along, exclaiming in wonderment and snapping endless photos. People arrive by air and by sea to revel in the yellow spring, which led to creation of the Seogwipo Rape Flower

International Walking Festival. Visitors from Japan, China, and even Russia frolic among the flowers with their hearts aflutter.

Heo Yeong-seon Poet

Take a moment for a closer look. There is more to the rapeseed plant than its decorative presence.

Before the flowers bloom, the leaves can be gathered and made into greens or kimchi, and after the flowers fall the seeds are pressed for its oil. In addition, the somewhat bitter yet tender rapeseed greens are served with fresh seafood to accentuate the flavors, while awakening your senses with a fragrance of spring.

When the waves of bright yellow flowers grow still and fade, the terrain of Jeju returns to its natural appearance. The black rocks that define the volcanic island emerge more vibrant, their gloss highlighted by the deep blue ocean, as the waves of summer move in.

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