Koreana Winter 2015 (English)

winter 2015

Korean culture & artS

Special Feature

Seowon

academic and Ideological strongholds of rustic literati; simplicity and restraint Define the seowon architecture; a look into the everyday life of seowon and their new roles

Legacies of Seowon, Neo-Confucian Academies of the Joseon Dynasty

vol. 29 no. 4

Korean Culture & Issn arts1016-0744 107

IMAGE OF KOREA

At the Onset of Winter Kim Hwa-young Literary Critic; Member, National Academy of Arts

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pdong , the seasonal division of the year that marks the onset of winter, fell on November 8 this year. In the countryside, this is when everyone gets busy preparing for the winter. One of the major tasks is the making of meju, or soybean blocks. The sight of these blocks bound with straw and hanging under a ledge in the main bedroom or under the eaves of the house, drying in the bright autumn sunshine, is a picture that hangs in my heart together with longing for the hometown of my childhood.

Meju is the basic ingredient of soybean paste, soy sauce, and red pepper paste, which are the heart of Korean cuisine, and a source of plant-based protein. In the olden days, when ipdong came around my mother and grandmother would put an iron pot in the outer yard and fill it with soybeans to be boiled. All day, the beans would boil over a low fire fueled by well dried chestnut burrs, and the house would be filled with their pleasant smell. Sneaking some boiled beans from the pot would take the edge off my hunger.

It was at this time of year that I would help my father as he pasted fresh white paper on the windows and doors. A thin glue was made and applied evenly on the wooden frames and then the white paper was placed lightly on top, brushed down smooth, and tapped down to make sure it was well attached. Then, with a mouthful of clean water, he would spray the paper wet all over evenly. That way, the paper would become tight as it dried in the bright autumn sunshine. By this time, mother would have already taken the beans out of the pot and started to crush them in a mortar. Grandmother would spread hemp cloth inside small wooden molds and pack the crushed beans tightly into the molds to form soybean blocks. Then straw was spread on the ground and the blocks were laid on top to dry in the sun for two or three days. Father would tie up the hardened blocks with straw and hang them under the eaves where it was sunny. As they matured in the cool air, aided by the sun and the wind, the microorganisms implanted in the soybean blocks would secrete enzymes that break down protein. Meanwhile, the newly papered doors and windows would block the cold winter winds while allowing sunlight in to fill the rooms.

These days few young people living in the city know what meju is, not to mention how it is made. Soybean paste, soy sauce, and even meju can be purchased at any market.

“You can say meju is made with beans [but still I wouldn’t believe you],” younger Koreans might say, hardly able to imagine the traditional way of life that had sustained their forebears for hundreds of years and, in fact, until quite recently. Is it the pizzas, hamburgers, and fizzy drinks that account for their lack of interest?

Editor’s Letter

early Morning ritual at a confucian academy Around 6 o’clock in the morning, the countryside was shrouded in mist. Driving along a paved road cutting through broad rice paddies in a golden hue, we abruptly found ourselves facing a small picturesque village of neat houses. The mist had lifted all of a sudden. In the crisp morning sunshine, the ancient academy emerged right next to the village, beyond a tall red-spiked gate. We thus arrived at Piram Seowon in Jangseong, South Jeolla Province, at early morning on September 13.

The Special Feature coverage team for this edition of Koreana , on the fourth leg of our tour of several outstanding Confucian academies, looked forward to an unusual experience at this academy. It was a chance to observe its semi-monthly “rite for offering incense.” Soon the yusa, or administrators of the seowon, arrived one after another. They gathered in the main room of the old lecture hall for a short meeting. Then, everyone donned a white ritual gown and in solemn quietude walked in single file toward the shrine at the back of the compound.

The rite proceeded as the chanter read the protocol aloud. Burning incense and making deep bows — this simple and austere ritual was repeated. Time seemed to have stalled, or more precisely, it felt like it had ticked back hundreds of years. (See photo on page 8.) What is the purpose of this rite? What are the values that these men are striving to uphold and sustain in this day and age, and to further pass down to future generations? It is hoped our readers might find answers to these questions in articles of the Special Feature, “Legacies of Seowon, Neo-Confucian Academies of the Joseon Dynasty.”

Readers can also visit our webzine (www.koreana.or.kr) to view two videos related to the article, “The ‘Celestial Dancer’ Lee Mae-bang and His World of Dance.”

Lee Mae-bang, a 20th–century legend of Korean traditional dance, passed away in August this year. The condensed versions of Lee’s two signature works, “Monk’s Dance” and “Exorcism Dance,” are presented as a tribute to the master dancer. lee Kyong-hee Editor-in-Chief

puBliSHer eDitorial Director eDitor-in-cHieF eDitorial BoarD

copY eDitor aSSociate eDitor aSSiStant eDitorS creatiVe Director eDitorS art Director DeSiGnerS

Yu Hyun-seok Yoon Keum-jin Lee Kyong-hee Bae Bien-u Choi Young-in Emanuel Pastreich Han Kyung-koo Kim Hwa-young Kim Young-na Koh Mi-seok Song Hye-jin Song Young-man Werner Sasse Dean Jiro Aoki Kim Jeong-eun Teresita M. Reed Cho Yoon-jung Kim Sam Noh Yoon-young, Park Sin-hye Lee Young-bok Kim Ji-hyun, Lee Sung-ki, Yeob Lan-kyeong

laYout & DeSiGn

Kim’s Communication Associates 385-10 Seogyo-dong, Mapo-gu Seoul 121-839, Korea www.gegd.co.kr Tel: 82-2-335-4741 Fax: 82-2-335-4743

tranSlatorS

Chung Myung-je Hwang Sun-ae Min Eun-young Park Hyun-ah Suh Jung-ah

Price per issue in Korea 6,000 won Elsewhere US$9 Please refer to page 104 of Koreana for specific subscription rates.

SuBScription/circulation correSponDence tHe u.S. anD canaDa Koryo Book Company 1368 Michelle Drive St. Paul, MN 55123-1459 Tel: 1-651-454-1358 Fax: 1-651-454-3519

Korean culture & artS winter 2015

“Bookcase” Eight-panel folding screen, circa second half of 18th century– first half of 19th century, color on paper, 112cm x 381cm (detail), private collection. © Dahal Media

Still life paintings called chaekgado, or chaekgeori, were mostly used to decorate a scholar’s study. They featured books, writing implements, curios and other objects arranged on book shelves, symbolizing the owner’s learning, economic status, or personal aspirations.

otHer areaS incluDinG Korea The Korea Foundation West Tower 19F Mirae Asset CENTER1 Bldg.

26 Euljiro 5-gil, Jung-gu, Seoul 100-210, Korea printeD in winter 2015 Samsung Moonwha Printing Co. 274-34 Seongsu-dong 2-ga, Seongdong-gu, Seoul 133-831, Korea Tel: 82-2-468-0361/5

Published quarterly by the Korea Foundation 2558 Nambusunhwan-ro, Seocho-gu Seoul 137-863, Korea http://www.koreana.or.kr

© The Korea Foundation 2015 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without the prior permission of the Korea Foundation.

The opinions expressed by the authors do not necessarily represent those of the editors of Koreana or the Korea Foundation.

Koreana , registered as a quarterly magazine with the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism (Registration No. Ba-1033, August 8, 1987), is also published in Arabic, Chinese, French, German, Indonesian, Japanese, Russian and Spanish.

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FoCuS

the ‘Celestial Dancer’ lee Mae-bang and His World of Dance Yang Jong-sung

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interview

Han Kang: “language Gives Me a Certain Pain” Kang Ji-hee

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74

BooKS & More

“Multiethnic Korea? Multiculturalism, Migration, and Peoplehood Diversity in Contemporary south Korea” insightful Debate on Korea’s transition toward ethnic Diversity

“Black Flower” epic tale of First Korean emigrants to Mexico

“Beautiful things in life”

44

Art review

lee Quede: a legendary Painter who lived through an age of turmoil

a Versatile Haegeum player’s crossover collaboration

http://seoulcitywall.seoul.go.kr/ front/eng/index.do online Guide to Seoul city wall

Kim Yoo-kyung

Charles La Shure, Lee Woo-young

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GuArDiAn oF HeritAGe

reviving the tradition of Geomungo Chung Jae-suk

20 Special Feature

legacies of Seowon, neo-Confucian Academies of the Joseon Dynasty SpeCiAl FeAture 1

04 10

SpeCiAl FeAture 3

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a look into the everyday life of seowon and their new roles Kim Hyun-jin

SpeCiAl FeAture 4

24

78

Park Chan-il

in love witH KoreA

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Jang Hüseyin: a Voice for Greater understanding Darcy Paquet

liFeStyle

82

Men in aprons: Falling in love with Cooking Kim Yong-sub

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Gwak Jae-gu

JourneyS in KoreAn literAture

86

a sun that never sets, a longing that never Fades Cho Yong-ho

70

Dr. lee sung-nack’s Dermatological Diagnoses of Joseon Portraits

Lee Sang-hae

Kang Myoung-seok

Dongji Patjuk : red Bean Porridge for Warmth in Coldest Winter

Kim Hak-soon

AlonG tHeir own pAtH

simplicity and restraint Define the seowon architecture

one-person Media Breaks into Mainstream Broadcasting

GourMet'S DeliGHt

sad songs of life in the Mountains of Yeongwol and Jeongseon

Shin Byung-ju

SpeCiAl FeAture 2

First, speak the same language: alternative schools Help Young Defectors adapt to new Home

on tHe roAD

academic and Ideological strongholds of rustic literati

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tAleS oF two KoreAS

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entertAinMent

over the West Mountain Kim Chae-won

Kang Shin-jae

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schools for the ‘noble Man’ awaken from a long slumber Lee Chang-guy

SpeCiAl FeAture 5

Modern-Day seowon attract Young Intellectuals Lee Kil-woo

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SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 1 Legacies of Seowon, Neo-Confucian Academies of the Joseon Dynasty

AcAdEMIc And IdEOlOGIcAl StROnGHOldS OF RuStIc lItERAtI

Shin Byung-ju Professor, Department of Korean History, Konkuk University Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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Preparing for the annual memorial rites, Confucian scholars of Byeongsan Seowon in Andong, North Gyeongsang Province, draw up the work schedule log to assign various responsibilities.

Seowon, the neo-confucian academies of the Joseon dynasty (1392–1910), were private educational institutions founded by the local literati for the purpose of paying tribute to past sages and fostering young scholars. From the outset, seowon served as the academic headquarters for neo-confucianism, Joseon’s ruling ideology. As their influence expanded, however, the academies became hotbeds of political strife, seriously undermining state power. to this day, more than 600 of these institutes have preserved their academic traditions and the legacies of affiliated family clans. And today’s Korean society, thirsting for all-round education for the younger generation, is taking a fresh look at the age-old pedagogy.

Korean Culture & arts 5

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he Neo-Confucian academies of the Joseon Dynasty exerted wide-ranging influence on the nation’s politics, economy, education, and culture. The establishment of these academies, called seowon, has been attributed to the growth of the new literati class, who had expanded their power in the provinces during the latter years of the preceding Goryeo Dynasty. Their staunch footing in local communities enabled them to survive the four literati purges (sahwa) of the 16th century and emerge as the ruling class in the latter half of the Joseon period.

They founded private academies to spread Neo-Confucianism and, with the support of the local community, raised their voices against the powerful relatives of the royal family in the central government.

Baegundong Seowon, Korea’s First neo-confucian Academy Ju Se-bung (1495–1554), while serving as magistrate of Punggi County, founded Baegundong Seowon in 1543 in the village of Sunheung-myeon, North Gyeongsang Province. At this institution, which was the first private Neo-Confucian academy in Korea, he sought to train young scholars and enshrined the memorial tablet of An Hyang (1243–1306), in honor of his contribution to the introduction of Neo-Confucianism to Korea in the late Goryeo period.

Ju Se-bung had previously built a shrine named Hoeheonsa in memory of An Hyang, and went on to open Baegundong Seowon (meaning “White Cloud Grotto Academy”), modeled after Zhu Xi’s White Deer Grotto Academy in China.

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place of learning and Ritual Worship of Sages The facilities for instruction and memorial rites were essential elements of the academies. Study facilities included the lecture hall and the dormitories, while the primary ritual facility was the shrine dedicated to the sages or teachers honored at each academy. Other facilities in a typical Neo-Confucian academy included a storage building for ritual utensils, where food for sacrificial rites was also prepared; an open pavilion, where students could relax while enjoying the natural scenery; and library areas for publishing and storing instructional materials and books.

By housing a wide range of books, a Neo-Confucian academy served as a kind of community library as well. Around 1600, the Sosu Seowon library housed 1,678 volumes of books under 107 titles. With their large book collections and independent publishing activities, the academies helped to enlighten the local communities by offering them access to a broad range of knowledge resources.

Seowon began to be established all across the nation in the late 16th century, largely through the efforts of landed gentry seeking to broaden their bases of influence in the provinces. A total of 18 academies were founded during the reign of King Myeongjong (r. 1545–1567) and another

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©National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, Korea

1 “Dosan Seowon” (1721) by Jeong Seon (1676–1759), Ink and color on paper. 124 × 67 cm.

Illustrating the ideal location of a Neo-Confucian academy, the painting depicts Dosan Seowon nestled amidst scenic woods at the foot of Mt. Cheongnyang overlooking the Nakdong River in Togye-ri, Andong, North Gyeongsang Province.

2 At Donam Seowon in Nonsan, South Chungcheong Province, the administrators inspect printing woodblocks in the repository, which houses 2,103 woodblocks for works including “The Complete Collection of Sagye and” (Sagye jeonseo ) by Kim Jang-saeng and “The Complete Collection of Sindokjae” (Sindokjae jeonseo ) by Kim Jip.

In early Joseon, Confucian scholars with educational aspirations would spend their own money to build private educational facilities called seodang, or village schools, for the instruction of young students. In the 16th century, this tradition was carried on by the sarim, elite scholars living in the provinces, who established seowon as institutions for higher learning and places for worship of eminent scholars of the past. Hence, conducting memorial rites to honor past sages and training of young scholars were the two primary objectives of those academies.

Upon his appointment as the magistrate of Punggi in 1548, Yi Hwang (1501–1570) requested government support for Baegundong Seowon, stressing the academy’s educational significance. In 1550, the king renamed the academy Sosu Seowon and bestowed a name board on the academy. The naming of a shrine or Neo-Confucian academy by the king along with the bestowal of a name board signified state accreditation, which ensured government support in the form of land, books, and servants as well as exemption from taxes and compulsory labor.

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By housing a wide range of books, a Neo-Confucian academy also served as a kind of community library‌With their large book collections and independent publishing activities, the academies helped to enlighten the local communities by offering them access to a broad range of knowledge resources.

Korean Culture & arts 7

Administrators of Piram Seowon in Jangseong, South Jeolla Province, conduct one of the semi-monthly memorial rites falling on the first day of each lunar month.

The shrine, Udongsa, houses the memorial tablets of Kim In-hu (1510-1560) and his disciple and son-in-law Yang Ja-jing (1523-1594).

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63 during the rule of King Seonjo (r. 1567– 1608). Many were located in the Gyeongsang region, a deep-rooted power base of local literati. Prominent examples included Dosan Seowon, Deokcheon Seowon, and Byeongsan Seowon, which were dedicated to the revered scholars Yi Hwang, Jo Sik (1501–1572), and Ryu Seong-ryong (1542– 1607), respectively.

Spread of Seowon and Growing power of local literati At the outset, these private educational institutions competed against the existing public county schools, called hyanggyo. But as the seowon came to have greater influence and better educational environments, the gentry began to send their sons to the academies. From the mid-Joseon period, seowon played a pivotal role in higher education and the propagation of Neo-Confucianism. These contributions, however, were overshadowed by their eagerness to serve the interests of the local gentry, who consolidated their social networks on the basis of kinship, regionalism, and school relations. Influential scholars in the provinces began to use seowon as a means to strengthen their academic and political prestige, eventually transforming the educational institutions into hotbeds of political strife.

As conflict escalated, various political factions formed around schools of thought: Toegye School for the Namin (Southerners), Nammyeong and Hwadam Schools for the Bugin (Northerners), Yulgok and Ugye Schools for the Seoin (Westerners),

Myeongjae School for the Soron (Young Doctrine), and a separate Ugye School for the Noron (Old Doctrine). When controversy arose over philosophical or political issues — for example, the doctrine of principle and material force, or disputes over ritual propriety — the leaders of different schools advocated their political positions by means of public appeals to the king. On such occasions, the scholars would gather at the academies to rally forces and gather opinions.

After the mid-Joseon era, Neo-Confucian academies were built in larger numbers in Jeolla, Chungcheong, and Gyeonggi provinces as the scholars from these regions tended to occupy more prominent academic and political positions. During the reign of King Sukjong (r. 1674–1720), the number of seowon grew rapidly to reach 166 nationwide, of which 105 had been officially recognized by the state. Thereafter, negative consequences began to surface. Above all, the exemption from taxes and compulsory labor, a privilege enjoyed by the private academies, was deemed to deal a serious blow to the national economy. Eventually, Sukjong banned the opening of new academies and also stopped granting state recognition. Yeongjo (r. 1724–1776), who sought to reinforce his authority, actively adopted the policy measures of his father.

In “The Annals of King Yeongjo” (Yeongjo sillok ), an entry dated the eighth day of the fourth month in 1741, records the king’s order as follows: “Close down all the private academies and shrines established in 1714 and thereafter without state authorization. All the existing academies that have added sages to be worshipped at their shrines during this same period, regardless of their founders’ background, either high-ranking officials or respected local scholars. . . If any new academies are privately built or existing academies add new sages for worship, lawfully dismiss the governor and the magistrate of the locality concerned and send the scholars into exile.”

Abolition of Seowon and decline of neo-confucianism Following Yeongjo, Prince Regent Heungseon implemented even more drastic measures to abolish the Neo-Confucian academies. The prince regent, who had taken control of state affairs after his teenage son Gojong rose to the throne in 1863, shut down Mandongmyo, a shrine dedicated to the Ming emperor Shenzong, as it turned out to be a stronghold for Noron scholars and politicians. In addition, over six hundred academies without state accreditation were also closed in 1868. Arguing that seowon created environments conducive to factional strife, in 1871 he ordered that all the private academies and shrines throughout the nation be closed, except for 47 of them.

Confucian scholars from all over the country gathered in Seoul to protest the policy, and 1,460 students from the Gyeongsang region met in front of the palace to submit a collective petition to the court. The prince regent did not budge, though. He broke their spirits instead by declaring, “I would not forgive anyone who does harm to the people, even if Confucius were to come alive. . . The seowon have now become dens of thieves.” The nationwide shutdown of seowon aroused the furious resistance of Confucian scholars like Choe Ik-hyeon (1833–1906), which led to the downfall of the once all-powerful prince regent.

During Japanese colonial rule and then Korea’s period of rapid modernization, the NeoConfucian academies lost their educational function but have maintained their ritual traditions through today. Recently, people seeking to keep the tradition alive have paid keen attention to the restoration of seowon in view of their historical and cultural implications for modern society. The person-centered education provided at the ancient academies, where exemplary scholars of the time refined their knowledge and instructed young students, is of growing significance for today’s society, which has come to value a humanistic knowledge base. Indeed, the modern utilization of seowon seems to be more relevant today than ever before.

Korean Culture & arts 9

SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 2 Legacies of Seowon, Neo-Confucian Academies of the Joseon Dynasty

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SIMplIcIty And REStRAInt dEFInE tHE SEOWOn ARcHItEctuRE the site conditions and spatial arrangement of Korea’s neo-confucian academies, called seowon, are based on confucian ideals of beauty defined by restraint and modesty. Reflecting the ideals of scholars based in the provinces who sought to leave worldly commotion behind and concentrate on their studies to understand the laws of nature and human conduct, the academies were built in secluded sites amidst outstanding natural scenery. to faithfully carry out the functions of study and rituals, they adopted the basic layout of low ground at the front and higher at the back, with the lecture hall in front of the memorial shrine. lee Sang-hae Chairman, Cultural Heritage Committee, Cultural Heritage Administration of Korea Suh Heun-gang Photographer

Mandaeru (Pavilion of Late Encounter) at the entrance to Byeongsan Seowon in Hahoe Village, Andong, North Gyeongsang Province. The pavilion at a Neo-Confucian academy is a place where the scholars could relax next to nature as they contemKorean Culture & things. arts 11 plated the order of the universe and the principle of all

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he establishment of Neo-Confucian academies during the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910) was led by the landed Confucian scholars in the provinces, known as sarim. They pursued a holistic education system that would turn out honorable human beings through the cultivation of personal character rather than focusing on practical knowledge or functional abilities. Holistic education, they believed, could be achieved through self-cultivation (jangsu) that focused on study. But for Neo-Confucian scholars, academic study did not simply involve the reading of classics and lectures and debates (ganghak); it also involved taking part in rites to honor scholars of past generations, as a sign of reverence and the desire to emulate their teachings, as well as rest and relaxation (yusik) in nature to relieve the stress of study, refresh the mind and body, and contemplate the laws of the universe. Hence, an academy’s location was selected with much care and its spatial arrangement was designed to effectively carry out these functions. In this sense, the seowon clearly differ from religious facilities built purely as places of worship.

Adapting to nature and the Will of Heaven Baegundong Seowon, the first private Neo-Confucian academy in Korea, was established in 1543

by Ju Se-bung (1495–1554), the magistrate of Punggi County. In 1550 it was accredited by the state and 12 Koreana winter 2015

conferred the new name Sosu Seowon. The academy comprised a shrine for memorial rites, a lecture hall for study, and a pavilion for relaxation, but the typical seowon-style layout had not yet been formed.

The shrine located to the west of the compound faced south, while the lecture hall sitting to the east of the shrine faced east. Still, Sosu Seowon served as a model for the countless academies that would be built thereafter in terms of site conditions and spatial composition. It was located near the hometown of An Hyang (1243–1306), the sage who was honored there; the site was selected for its serene and secluded surroundings and graceful scenery; and the rites conducted there set the standard for Confucian rites held throughout the Joseon period.

The architecture of the seowon is closely related to the concept of the unity of heaven and man, which underpinned the study and teaching methods of the scholars who built the academies — “knowledge comes through the investigation of things” — as well as their view of the world and human nature. The “investigation of the essence of all things” is an essential theory that comes from the “Great Learning” (Daxue), which Zhu Xi (1130–1200), the foremost Neo-Confucian scholar of the Song Dynasty in China,

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1 At Sosu Seowon in Yeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, Gyeongnyeomjeong (Pavilion for Revering Yeomgye) stands overlooking a stream and pine forest in front.

2 At Namgye Seowon in Hamyang, South Gyeongsang Province, the arrangement of buildings on the sloping site, low in front and high at the back, is forthright and assertive.

A tranquil lotus pond in front of the two dormitory buildings echoes the stream that flows by the front of the academy.

3 Jungjeongdang (Hall of Centrality and Correctness), the lecture hall at Dodong Seowon in Dalseong, North Gyeongsang Province. Through the open door at the back, the stairs leading to the shrine, can be seen.

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Korean Culture & arts 13

© Conservation and Management Foundation of Seowon

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There is a naturalness and liveliness that comes from the exercise of freedom within certain boundaries. The buildings thus erected are neither pretentious nor grand. They sit modest and restrained as a refined expression of the Confucian worldview in an architectural context.

1 At Dosan Seowon in Andong, North Gyeongsang Province, the two dormitories, Bagyakjae (House of Comprehensive Learning and Rigorous Propriety) and Honguijae (House of Broad Mind and Vigorous Endurance), face each other across a courtyard in front of the lecture hall, Jeongyodang (Hall of Classical Teachings).

2 Eungdodang (Hall for Concentration on the Way), one of two lecture halls at Donam Seowon, in Nonsan, South Chungcheong Province, is a building of large scale and formality, setting it apart from the typical style of seowon architecture.

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had included as one of the Four Books, together with the “Analects of Confucius” (Lunyu), “The Mencius” (Mengzi), and “The Doctrine of the Mean” (Zhongyong). The scholars of Joseon sought to locate their academies in an environment that was aligned with the ideals advocated by Zhu Xi, and hence chose places secluded from the world with peaceful natural surroundings.

The concept of the unity of heaven and man, which is also expressed in seowon architecture, calls for compliance with the mandate of heaven. As such, the landscape that the Neo-Confucian scholars sought was one in which they could learn for themselves the principle of all things through observation of changes in nature, ultimately to become one with it. So they removed themselves far from the cities and built their academies in the bosom of nature to cultivate both mind and body and to teach the next generation of scholars.

Accordingly, Sosu Seowon is located alongside Jukgye, or Bamboo Stream, which originates at the foot of Mt. Sobaek, in a “secret place deep in the mountains with cozy valleys and streams and covered in clouds.” Dosan Seowon, built in honor of Yi Hwang (1501–1570), is also situated in a similar environment. The academy was constructed in 1574 incorporating the village school, Dosan Seodang, which Yi had established in 1561 to pursue his studies and teach young students. “Twelve Songs of Mt. Do” (Dosan sibigok), written by Yi Hwang soon after building the school, offers insight into his state of mind at the time and glimpses of the surrounding scenery.

In the spring wind, the mountain is aburst with flowers.

Under the autumn sky, the observatory is flooded with moonlight.

All through the four seasons, nature’s beauty becomes one with man.

The hawk flying up in the sky and the fish jumping up and down the river, The sky sparkling with sunlight and the clouds casting shadows, Nature’s wonders know no bounds.

Korean Culture & arts 15

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1 Sungnyesa (Shrine of Reverential Rites) at Donam Seowon is enclosed by beautiful walls, featuring tiles with decorative patterns along the front. Enshrined here are the spirit tablets of Kim Jang-saeng, a leading scholar of Confucian ritual studies, his son Kim Jip, also an eminent scholar, Song Si-yeol, and Song jun-gil.

2 Ritual officiants descend from the shrine of Donam Seowon.

3 Cheinmyo (Shrine of Practicing Benevolence) at Oksan Seowon in Yangdong Village, Gyeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, can be seen through the triple-portal gate to the ritual area. Located at the highest and most remote part of the academy compound, the ritual area was closed off with a separate gate.

location and Architectural Style The basic architectural style of the Neo-Confucian academies of Joseon first took form at Namgye Seowon, built in 1552 in Hamyang, South Gyeongsang Province. The areas for relaxation, study, and rituals were arranged one behind the other along an axis from the front gate, which became the basic layout for all subsequent seowon. Other layout principles were low land at the front, high at the back, and the lecture hall in front of the shrine. The relaxation and study areas were positioned toward the front because the scholars would frequent these areas on a daily basis, naturally creating an active and lively ambience. The shrine was located in the rearmost area to limit access and maintain a solemn, quiet atmosphere.

Oksan Seowon was established in 1573 in Angang on the outskirts of Gyeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, to commemorate Yi Eon-jeok (1491–1553), who played an instrumental role in laying the groundwork for Korean Neo-Confucianism in the early half of the Joseon period. Lauded as one of “the five sages of the East,” Yi was the founder of the Yeongnam School. The academy where he is venerated is also located along a lovely stream with scenic views of Joaksan, or Purple Jade Mountain. Mubyeonnu (Pavilion of Boundlessness) and the lecture hall Guindang (Hall of Pursuing Benevolence) are notable structures that gracefully harmonize with the natural environment. Since the buildings of this academy were all planned beforehand and built at the same time, they are arranged precisely along a central axis, one behind the other in a straight line from the front gate to the shrine at the very back.

The largest and oldest Confucian academy in the Honam region, Piram Seowon was established in 1590 to venerate Kim In-hu (1510–1560). This academy differs from others in the topography of the site and the layout of buildings. Rather than sitting on a slope low in front and high at the rear, the academy sits on level ground at the foot of a mountain. Accordingly, the lecture hall is placed at the front and faces the shrine at the back. Between the two buildings is a spacious courtyard that creates a sense of openness. The expansive views that the academy looks out upon can be fully enjoyed from Hwagyeonnu (Pavilion of Openness and Impartiality) at the front.

Located in Dalseong County, Daegu, Dodong Seowon sits on a perfect site according to the ideals propounded by Neo-Confucian scholars of Joseon. Built in honor of Kim Goeng-pil (1454–1504), the academy is a vivid embodiment of the archetypal site location, spatial layout, and architecture of the seowon as it looks out onto the Nakdong River flowing in front from a sloping site at the foot of a mountain, with the areas for relaxation, study, and rituals arranged in an orderly fashion along a central axis.

The architecture is exquisite in terms of the structure of the buildings, the materials used, and the refinement of construction methods.

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© Conservation and Management Foundation of Seowon

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The typical layout of buildings on a sloping site, low in front and high at the back, is clearly seen at Byeongsan Seowon in Hahoe Village, Andong, North Gyeongsang Province.

This arrangement reflects the Neo-Confucian scholars' ideals expressed in architecture in harmony with nature, with mountains at the back and fields and streams in front.

Donam Seowon in Nonsan, South Chungcheong Province, is located on a vast expanse of plains with views of surrounding fields and mountains in the far distance. The academy is dedicated to Kim Jangsaeng (1548–1631), who wrote, “While looking up to the mountains and down at the stream, I have realized the laws of the world from nature.” Echoing this thought, the pavilion at the front is named Sanangnu, meaning “pavilion of looking far away up to the mountains.”

Byeongsan Seowon in Hahoe Village, Andong, North Gyeongsang Province, memorializes Ryu Seong-ryong (1542–1607), author of Jingbirok (Book of Corrections), a memoir of the Japanese Invasions of 1592–1598. The relaxation area of this academy is a wonderful example of architecture harmonizing and communing with nature. To moderate the overwhelming presence of Byongsan, or Screen Mountain, across the river, a pavilion was placed at the front of the compound, a long sparse building with only a floor, pillars, and roof, but no walls at all. While offsetting the visual impact of the mountain across the way, the pavilion does not block the picturesque views, exemplifying the concept of “borrowed scenery.”

Humble Restraint and Borrowed Scenery As the seowon were places where scholars would live together as a community, the dormitories were positioned to the east and west, facing each other across the courtyard in front of the lecture hall.

This arrangement turned the study area into an independent space, with open views toward the external area to the front. The lecture hall and the pavilion in front were situated so that one could sit in them and gaze out at the streams and fields and the mountains in the distance. It was believed that the views one encountered in everyday life helped to promote character development and enhance learning. The pavilion was the ideal space to commune with nature and it was thus placed near the entrance to maximize interaction with the surrounding environment.

The Neo-Confucian scholars attempted to bring the surrounding natural scenery into the architecture as much as possible, which resulted in a mutual exchange and blending of external and internal spaces. The interpenetration of buildings and nature creates an ensemble type of architecture.

The buildings are laid out in such a way that the relationship between them is clear while creating varied external spaces. In short, though the layout is basically symmetrical, the symmetry is not strictly geometrical. There is a naturalness and liveliness that comes from the exercise of freedom within certain boundaries. The buildings thus erected are neither pretentious nor grand. They sit modest and restrained as a refined expression of the Confucian worldview in an architectural context. To extend philosophy to the natural setting, efforts were made to realize the unity of heaven and man through the harmonization of manmade spaces with nature. Well-ordered and graceful in form, the seowon manifest the beauty of restraint and clarity, a humble but eloquent reflection of Neo-Confucian ideals.

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SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 3 Legacies of Seowon, Neo-Confucian Academies of the Joseon Dynasty

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a looK into tHe eVerYDaY liFe oF Seowon anD tHeir new roleS Kim Hyun-jin Freelance Writer Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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usa is the age-old title given to those who operate and manage seowon , the Neo-Confucian academies established during the Joseon period. Every seowon is overseen by yusa of varying numbers depending on their respective circumstances. These administrators look after the academies and see to it that the institutions continue to perform their centuries-old functions. I recently visited several seowon to interview some of their administrators.

new Base for Humanistic Education My first destination was Sosu Seowon in Yeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, where dozens of Vietnamese college students happened to be participating in a “Seowon Stay” program. Dressed in the ancient Confucian scholar’s robe and angular cap, they were learning traditional Korean etiquette from Kwon Yong-hak, principal of the local traditional school, Sunheung Hyanggyo.

While practicing a deep bow in the Korean way with a serious look on their faces, they would burst into laughter and make fun of each other’s clumsiness. They seemed to enjoy the unusual experience.

Seowon Stay offers demonstrations of classical lectures and memorial rites, instruction on the mindset and spirit of Confucian scholars, and traditional etiquette, as well as accommodation for a couple of nights in the nearby Scholars’ Village, called Seonbichon. The program attracts a steady flow of students, corporate employees, foreigners, and other participants. In this way, many seowon pro-

vide a type of humanistic education, of which there has been a growing awareness across Korean society in regard to their modern-day relevance.

My next destination was Byeongsan Seowon, located in Andong, North Gyeongsang Province. There I met with two administrators, Ryu Si-ju and Ryu Han-uk. Both are descendants of Ryu Seong-ryong (1542–1607), a distinguished scholar-official who led the wartime government of Joseon as the first state councilor during the Japanese Invasions of 1592–1598.

They both said they have lived “prudently” all their lives, cautious of their speech and actions due to the admonitions of their seniors “to not bring disgrace upon your ancestors.” Unlike Ryu Han-uk, who returned home after retiring from his job in Seoul, Ryu Si-ju has been working for the academy since his 20s. Had he ever considered Confucian teachings and etiquette to be staid? “Not once,” he said. Rather, he

feels sorry to see people who do not appreciate the true value of Confucianism and simply denigrate it as being conservative.

He also laments the near disappearance of “mealtime education” by parents eating meals with their children and seeing to their manners and character development.

As a child, he was fearful of the seowon compound and found its many rites incomprehensible, but he grew up to realize the true value of Confucian teachings. He believes that today’s young people would develop an affinity for the seowon and Confucian values if they are given proper education.

the Same courtesy to Everyone Located near Dosan Seowon in Andong, the clan head family house of Yi Hwang (1501–1570) is now the abode of Yi Geunpil, the 16th-generation eldest male descendant of the main lineage of the eminent scholar. Well-built and dressed in tra-

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1 A group of Vietnamese students, taking part in the Seowon Stay program at Sosu Seowon, learn how to put on the Confucian scholar's angular cap from the instructor Kwon Yong-hak, principal of Sunheung Hyanggyo. The program provides a wide array of participants with opportunities to learn about and experience the ways of Confucian scholars and traditional Korean etiquette.

2 The administrator Ryu Han-uk, who retired from his job in Seoul and returned home to work for Byeongsan Seowon, stands in Mandaeru (Pavilion of Late Encounter) looking across at Byeongsan (Screen Mountain).

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ditional attire, the elderly man in his 80s was sitting on his knees in front of a group of elementary school students who were visiting the house as part of a program offered by the Confucian Scholarly Culture Training Center affiliated with Dosan Seowon. In a kindly voice, he was explaining various aspects of Confucian virtues that are expressed in classical Chinese phrases, such as 樂不可極 (nak-bul-gageuk, meaning “There should be a limit to 22 Koreana winter 2015

pleasure”) or 浴不可從 (yok-bul-ga-jong , meaning “Don’t try to possess all the good things”). Surprisingly, his explanations, taking popular figures like the figure skater Yuna Kim and the pop singer Psy as examples, captivated the young students. Since he was hard of hearing, communication had to take the form of writing. Nevertheless, the retired school principal with his magnanimous and affectionate character wisely used his knowledge and virtues to

communicate with the young children.

Watching the scene, Kim Byeong-il, rector of Dosan Seowon and president of the Training Center, said, “I was so deeply moved by his demeanor that I’ve taught myself to emulate him and to sit kneeling in front of anyone I converse with. It took a lot of practice and effort, I must say.” The courteous reception of guests is a longstanding tradition that has not been created overnight. “It’s been one of the basics here

and academic seminars. The costs of these events are shared by the clans affiliated with the academy.

to receive any guest humbly and politely,” senior administrator Yi Dong-gu said.

During his lifetime, Yi Hwang hoped to see the world filled with more goodnatured people, an ideal that today’s Dosan Seowon continues to uphold. I could see his moral teachings that urged people to “act right in order to set the world right” have been devoutly practiced by his 84-year-old descendant and other scholars of today.

connecting with the General public At 7 o’clock in the morning on September 13, Piram Seowon in Jangseong, South Jeolla Province, was conducting a semimonthly memorial rite, which every NeoConfucian academy across the country observes on the first and fifteenth day of every lunar month (I was fortunate to visit the academy on the first day of the eighth lunar month). Conducting numerous rites all year round is undoubtedly a heavy burden, but the administrators in ritual attire carried out the procedures with the utmost courtesy in accordance with age-old manuals. Kim In-su, who has been an administrator since his retirement from public service, took his sense of responsibility as his motive for undertaking the hard and at times tedious work. “This academy is the largest organization of its kind in this region, so it certainly has a role to play. The administrators appointed by each clan to deal with this academy’s affairs are faithfully fulfilling their duties as representatives of their clans,” said Kim. Smiling, he shook his head when asked

1 Yi Geun-pil, the 16th-generation eldest male descendant of Yi Hwang, explains Confucian virtues to elementary school students visiting his clan head family house. The children listen intently as he mentions celebrities like Yuna Kim and Psy to tell them how to live happily doing what they like.

2 An administrator of Piram Seowon records the details of the memorial rite held on the first day of the lunar month.

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about the Confucian teaching that prohibited boys and girls from sitting next to each other after they reach the age of seven. “Those days are now gone,” he says. “It is unwise for people in modern times to take ancient teachings word for word. They should translate the ideas into today’s context.”

Based on this awareness, the academy has been rewriting the abstruse Neo-Confucian texts in easier words in order to interpret and disseminate the ideas in contemporary contexts. It also offers various programs for public participation on the eves of the regular memorial rites in spring and autumn, including lectures by elderly scholars reading classical texts with commentaries, writing contests on Confucian topics,

Reaching Out to young people At Donam Seowon in Nonsan, South Chungcheong Province, the senior administrator Kim Seon-eui happily devotes his time to the academy while leading a busy life running his own business. A relatively young administrator in his early 60s, Kim has been active in the efforts to apply for the inscription of seowon on the UNESCO World Heritage List. Identifying himself as a Christian, Kim declared emphatically, “Confucianism is not a religion.” Proudly, he introduced an array of future-oriented programs, like the annual Seowon Festival, that are intended to “bring a Renaissance to Confucian studies through the seowon.”

In the past, Kim noted, the seowon were places for young people in their teens and twenties because they assumed the role of local colleges. Believing that the ancient academies should be connected more closely to today’s young generations, Kim recently held a classical music concert on the academy grounds for the residents of nearby areas. He has also produced promotional brochures and videos to publicize its etiquette classes and created archives of the ancient books and documents in its collection.

As a descendant of Kim Jang-saeng (1548–1631), who led ritual studies of the Joseon era, Kim Seon-eui believes that seowon should provide education on etiquette and character development for the young generation. This belief has led him to spend his own money to produce teaching materials, distribute them to local students, and visit schools to teach etiquette classes. Recalling the times when the seowon served as local bases for intellectuals, and also to prepare for their inclusion on the World Heritage List, he plans to develop more attractive programs to make the Confucian spirit and values more broadly known among the general public in easier and more approachable ways.

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SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 4 Legacies of Seowon, Neo-Confucian Academies of the Joseon Dynasty

ScHOOlS FOR tHE ‘nOBlE MAn’ AWAKEn FROM A lOnG SluMBER lee chang-guy Poet and Literary Critic Kim Jeong-tae Photographer

For some time now Korean society has been anxiously debating the deterioration of public education and trying to find ways to improve its education system. yet, we hear that u.S. president Barack Obama has praised Korean-style education and encouraged people to adopt it as a model. What are the qualities of Korean education that have earned the praise of the American leader? What is the inherent value of our traditional education that we seem to have lost sight of? In an effort to restore their relevance for our times, the seowon are now taking the initiative to bring back their ideal of a wellrounded, holistic education, or education of the “whole person.”

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igh praise for Korean education by the president of the United States is no longer news among Koreans. On several occasions, President Barack Obama has extolled the excellence of Korean education, citing how hard Korean students study and how highly teachers are regarded in Korean society. But the more such praise is repeated, the more uneasy Koreans feel.

For any Korean who is aware of peripheral issues surrounding the nation’s Confucian-based education, this kind of compliment brings on a need for serious self-reflection. Just how much of the educational benefits cited by Obama can actually be found in contemporary Korean society; how valid is this tradition in relation to the values required to succeed in the realms of industrialization and capitalism of today and the future; and is this tradition sustainable?

Educational Ideals of the Ruling Elite Around the time Europe emerged from the Middle Ages and embarked on the Age of Discovery, the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910) was founded on the Korean peninsula. The dynasty’s forward-think-

In a reenactment of the ceremony to receive the name board bestowed by the king to Dodong Seowon, Confucian scholars wait for the procession carrying the board. Dodong Seowon was established in 1568 to honor the learning and virtues of Kim Goeng-pil, a leading proponent of Confucian study in Joseon. The academy received state recognition in 1607.

ing founders dreamed of reform not just to legitimize the new leadership but to also abandon Buddhism, which had dominated Asia for more than a thousand years, and create a new state that adopted Neo-Confucianism as the ruling ideology. But the transformation into a Confucian nation was fundamentally different from a transition of power. The people of Joseon experienced seemingly endless conflicts, as well as trials and errors, before they finally accepted Confucian values after a lengthy period of adjustment.

But the people of Joseon did indeed succeed in building a new nation of the kind that had not been envisioned even in China’s Song Dynasty, home to one of the pioneers of Neo-Confucianism, Zhu Xi (1130–1200). Moreover, this new nation went on to remain intact for more than 500 years. The ruling elite of Joseon was comprised of Korean Culture & arts 25

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government officials and Confucian scholars based in the provinces, or rustic literati, known as the sarim. These intellectuals in the provinces, who were not in public office, pursued self-cultivation in order to become a gunja (“noble” or “superior” person), possessing upright ethical values and exemplary character. They also dreamed of an ideal society in which the nation was ruled by a sage king, as in ancient times. They aimed to create a Confucian-based nation of a kind that had not existed before and to establish a new culture rooted in Confucian values. The educational institutions established by these literati, who could be described as revolutionary and fundamentalist, were the seowon. For over three hundred years, these private institutes served as bastions for the creation of a unique new Confucian culture centered on education, which focused on reading, lectures, and collective action.

Not all education took place at these academies, however. In the class-based society of Joseon, the road to success was to pass the state examinations for civil service (gwageo) and be appointed a government official. Naturally, education was geared toward the state examinations. To walk the elite path toward this end, a young child would first study at a village school (seodang) for basic understanding of the Confucian classics, and then attend either one of the four public schools in the capital or a county school (hyanggyo) in preparation for the preliminary exams (sogwa). After passing these

for “disaster.” The very fact that four sweeping literati purges took place in the early 16th century, at a time when Neo-Confucianism began to spread quickly throughout the country, has significant implications. It was after these bloodbaths that the seowon emerged as Joseon’s foremost educational institutes.

Who Studied What?

The person who defined the seowon as educational institutions for Neo-Confucian scholars and facilitated their development was Yi Hwang (1501–1570), also widely known by his pen name Toegye.

He was also behind the royal authorization of Baegundong Seowon, the first Neo-Confucian academy established in Korea. In 1550, seven years after the academy was founded by Ju Se-bung, King Myeongjong granted state accreditation by bestowing a signboard bearing the academy’s new name, Sosu Seowon. Such recognition placed the private academy on a par with the county schools, but more importantly it meant financial support from the government.

Yi Hwang was well aware that to spread and put into practice Confucian ideals state assistance would be absolutely essential.

The rules of Baegundong Seowon stated that priority for admission would be granted to those who had passed the preliminary state examinations (literary or classics licentiates) or the regional qualifying exams. These conditions were similar to those required

by Seonggyungwan, the national Confucian academy. It may be that Ju Se-bung After the demise of the Joseon Dynasty, it was widely believed that thought of the early seowon as a kind of the path to modernization was to learn the Western ways. At a time regional public school. However, the rules of Isan Seowon, founded by Yi Hwang, did when tradition was seen as something simply to be preserved, not require literary or classics licentiate Yi Hwang, on the occasion of the 500th anniversary of his birth, status for admission. In this we can read Yi Hwang’s intention to establish the seowon effectively served to bring back to life the original function of the as places for self-cultivation and private seowon as an educational institute. study rather than preparatory schools for the state exams. Nevertheless, the seowon 1 The autumn sacrifitook into consideration realistic circumtests, the next step was Seonggyungwan, the national Confucian cial rites are held at academy and the highest educational institute in the country, to prestances and to admit students from the Donam Seowon, built local community adopted a flexible attitude pare for the higher-level civil service examination (daegwa). to memorialize, study and honor the virtues toward the state exams. As time passed, The sarim, however, were critical of the way that officials selectof the Neo-Confucian however, they became further removed ed under this system would so readily submit themselves to the scholar Kim Jangfrom the grooming of successful bureauprevailing norms. While most government officials accepted Consaeng. The rites begin with the offering of fucianism, they regarded it as a system for ruling the world rather crats and utilitarian principles. sacrifices (bonjinrye ), than a code of ethics or philosophical principles. The sarim conEducation at the Neo-Confucian acadfollowed by the offersidered this kind of deep-rooted bureaucratism to be a stumbling emies was largely based on lectures and ing of silk (jeonpyerye ) and then the offering block to genuine reform. Inevitably, conflict and competition arose reading. Reading was pursued by the stuof the first libation as various officials resisted the rigid framework and pace of change dents on an individual basis at all times, (choheonrye) .

2 Officiants bow during desired by the reformists. Even the kings who had appointed memwhile lectures required the students to the autumn sacrificial attend scheduled sessions. bers of the sarim to high-ranking government positions did not rites held at ByeongThe studies covered basic Confucian always applaud their suggestions. In the end, many of the intellecsan Seowon. texts, such as the Four Books and the Six tuals who advocated reform were eliminated in a series of purges Classics, and a wide range of other materiknown as sahwa, a compound term of sa for “scholar” and hwa Korean Culture & arts 27

als including “Master Zhu’s Family Rituals” (Zhuzi jiali), “Reflections on Things at Hand” (Jinsilu ), and the “Lesser Learning” (Xiaoxue ). While the texts studied might have differed from one academy to the next, the “Lesser Learning” was mandatory at all academies. An introductory reader, the “Lesser Learning” explains the Neo-Confucian principles of conduct, including the ideals of self-cultivation and the five moral rules in human relations. It was a bestseller in early Joseon, a book that the state went to great efforts to publish and distribute as a means to transform the country into a Neo-Confucian society. Likewise, all distinguished Confucian scholars went to great pains to teach and put the teachings of this book into everyday practice. King Jungjong (r. 1506– 1544), after studying the book as part of his own education, upgraded its status of being a “children’s book” by proclaiming that it must be studied until one’s death and including in the book the “Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning” (Seonghak sipdo) produced by Yi Hwang and given to the future King Seonjo when Yi was tutoring the young crown prince.

President Obama might appreciate the following dictum of the philosopher Guan Zhong (720–645 B.C.) from the “Lesser Learning”: “The teacher presents his teachings; students take them as standards for their behavior. By being dutiful and reverential and keeping their minds completely open, their learning is maximized.”

“Master Zhu’s Family Rituals” was another text that played an instrumental role in converting Joseon into a Neo-Confucian nation. It contains the universal rules of conduct for major occasions in life, including coming of age, marriage, death, and memorial rites for ancestors.

The basic goal of this book is to encourage people to take pride in their lives as worthwhile human beings and to strengthen love and respect between family members.

Revival of Seowon for character development Joseon was the era of the seonbi, the Confucian scholar, or traditional Korean intellectual, who believed: “What heaven has conferred is called nature. Conformity with this nature is called the path of duty; the regulation of this path is called instruction.” The basic outlook of the Confucian scholar is summed up in the following lines: “The Master said, ‘When good government prevails in his state, he is found to be in office. When bad government prevails, he can roll his principles up and keep them in his breast.’” In the Neo-Confucian view of education, importance was placed on the teachings of the master, and scholars strove to be faithful to “succession of the Way,” or passing down learning from teacher to student. Seowon were thus places where the succession of learning took place.

In 2001, the 500th anniversary of the birth of Yi Hwang was commemorated at Dosan Seowon. On this occasion, in memory of the great teacher, his disciples discussed the significance of Confucianism in the 21st century. The participants hoped to contribute to the creation of an ethical nation by educating people to take the lead in ethical practice.

There was also an agreement on establishing a scholarly culture training center under the wing of Dosan Seowon, to promote succession and cultivation of the “seonbi spirit” through experiences that emulated the 28 Koreana winter 2015

1 Children watch as a teacher demonstrates the proper way to bow at an etiquette class held at Donam Seowon. The academy conducts regular education programs on etiquette and ritual propriety for children in the local area.

2 Local scholars participate in a reenactment of the Joseon-era state civil service exams held in the provinces, at Donam Seowon. The exams were reenacted in different divisions for elementary school students, secondary school students, university students, and the general public.

3 A concert is underway in Eungdodang, a lecture hall at Donam Seowon.

The academy holds classical Korean and Western music concerts and organizes etiquette classes and lectures by famous speakers, among other activities, as ways to reach out to the public and explore the role of seowon in contemporary life.

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lives of Confucian scholars of the past.

Ten years hence, this now thriving institute, equipped with hightech lecture facilities and traditional-style accommodations, offers a variety of programs true to its founding objectives.

After the demise of the Joseon Dynasty, it was widely believed that the path to modernization was to learn the Western ways. At a time when tradition was seen as something simply to be preserved, Yi Hwang, on the occasion of the 500th anniversary of his birth, effectively served to bring back to life the original function of the seowon as an educational institute.

Inspired by this move, many other Neo-Confucian academies are also offering various programs that make the most of their own histories and traditions. Sosu Seowon in Yeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, operates a two-day seonbi culture program, while Donam Seowon in Nonsan, South Chungcheong Province, has been conducting etiquette education for students in the area. It also fosters teachers in the field of character development through a qualification system. Another example is Byeongsan Seowon in

Andong, North Gyeongsang Province, renowned for the simple yet bold architecture of its open pavilion, Mandaeru (Pavilion of Late Encounter), and the graceful beauty of the surrounding landscape.

To capitalize on these features, the academy promotes the traditional practice of yusan , literally “roaming the mountains,” as a means to cultivate the seonbi spirit.

At a lecture in Seoul several years ago, the world-famous Confucian scholar Tu Weiming defined the characteristics of Confucianism as follows: “Confucianism is not about understanding human beings in isolation but as part of a stream of water that flows endlessly, like those who are always dynamic and in pursuit of change, learning about themselves along the way. When we understand ourselves in this way, as human beings laid in the midst of unceasing change, then the individual can stand in the center of relationships, not in the static sense but the dynamic sense.”

For the many people worried about what to teach the next generation in this age of abundance and competition, it is hoped these words of Tu Weiming bring some comfort and insight.

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SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 5 Legacies of Seowon, Neo-Confucian Academies of the Joseon Dynasty

MOdERn-dAy SEOWOn AttRAct yOunG IntEllEctuAlS lee Kil-woo Senior Reporter, The Hankyoreh Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Advancements in digital technology have given birth to “homo mobilians,� people who constantly obtain information and communicate with others via their mobile devices. However, in this rapidly changing world inundated with digital content, there are those who prefer to take a step back from the hectic pace and study classical texts the traditional way. like the young scholars of the Joseon period hundreds of years ago who congregated at the seowon nestled in serene natural settings to learn about the ways of the world under respected teachers, young intellectuals are now flocking to modern-day seowon amidst the hustle and bustle of the city to study the humanities and classics.

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oo Jin-yeong, a 22-year-old college student majoring in business administration, is busy reading “The Annals of the Joseon Dynasty” (Joseon wangjo sillok) these days for a paper she is writing on the subject of prisons and prison escapes during the Joseon Dynasty. Having attended middle and high school abroad, she barely knows how to read Chinese characters. But she has no problem reading the vivid historical records of Joseon that date as far back as 500 years. Modern Korean translations of the court annals can be viewed on the Internet where she can find the information required for her paper. “I don’t see these as merely records of what happened in the past. By learning about the historical events that unfolded hundreds of years ago, we can gain a better understanding of our country and people today,” said Woo.

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1 Students at Gunmyungwon listen to a lecture on Eastern philosophy given by Choi Jin-seok, philosophy professor and president of the academy. Classes are held every Wednesday evening, covering a wide range of disciplines in the humanities and the classics.

2 Students study in a classroom at Gunmyungwon, which is housed in a remodeled traditional Korean house.

Immersed in Eastern and Western classics Woo plans to go to law school and become an international trade lawyer. She is currently attending a program at Asan Academy where she studies a diverse range of subjects that she never encountered at school before. She says the program has helped her develop a deeper understanding of her country, which is how she came up with the subject of her paper.

Kim Tae-yeong, 24, is another student at the academy. Through Eastern classics, such as the “Thousand Character Classic” (Cheonjamun) and “Important Methods of Eliminating Ignorance” (Gyeongmong yogyeol), he is learning about the inquiring spirit and political thinking of ancient scholars. These are areas of study he would never have experienced as a mechanical engineering major.

Woo and Kim are among the 32 students who were admitted to Asan Academy in August this year. They made it through a highly competitive admissions process in which the acceptance rate was only 10 percent.

Located in downtown Seoul near Gyeonghui Palace, the academy is housed in an ultramodern building that looks like it belongs on a space movie set. It opened in August 2012 as a “21st century seowon” offering programs that combine the traditional education of the Neo-Confucian academies of the Joseon period and the University of Oxford’s PPE (philosophy, politics and economics) course. Its objective is to cultivate modernday leaders with an international outlook and a good grounding in the humanities.

For the first five months, students live at the academy’s dormitory and study various subjects in the humanities; the next five months, they work as interns at prominent think tanks, either in Washington, D.C. or Beijing. They also attend academic conferences hosted by the Heritage Foundation and the Brookings Institution in the United States. The academy covers full tuition in Korea as well as expenses for internships abroad. The name “Asan” comes from the pen name of the late Chung Ju-yung (1915–2001), founder of the Hyundai Group.

The curriculum encompasses basic humanities disciplines, including history, philosophy, and literature, as well as international politics, political philosophy of the East and West, economics, and English. The program also features rather unique subjects, such as “rhetoric,” “openness and closure,” and “spatial sociology of architecture.” Character education, volunteer work, cultural experience programs, and sports activities further enrich the learning experience. The workload is substantial. Students often have to pull all-nighters to prepare for presentations and debates, and those who fail two or more subjects have to leave. Students say they have to study even harder than when they were preparing for the college entrance examinations.

Kim Seog-gun, vice president of Asan Academy (and director of the Center for Korean Studies at the Asan Institute for Policy Studies), refers to their studies as “a kind of play.” This means that students choose to study 2 what they want based on their own interests. “The Korean Culture & arts 31

humanities topics we teach are not out of touch with reality, but something the students can relate to. We strive to be an educational institution that addresses the needs of our society today by combining the education models of the traditional seowon and modern-day universities,” said Kim.

Emphasis on Future potential over current performance Gunmyungwon is another seowon-type academy that opened in March this year in Bukchon, central Seoul. Its program offers a different approach to learning from regular school education, comprising subjects in Eastern and Western philosophy, art, and science, with the goal of fostering future-oriented individuals with multifaceted talents. Oh Jeong-taek, president of Dooyang Culture Foundation, donated 10 billion won (about $10 million) to establish the academy.

The faculty line-up is impressive. Choi Jin-seok, philosophy professor at Sogang University, who is also the president of the academy, teaches Eastern philosophy and Taoism, and Bae Chul-hyun, professor of religious studies at Seoul National University, teaches religion and Latin classics, while Kim Kai-chun, interior design professor at Kookmin University, teaches subjects in art and architecture. Also, Kim Dae-shik, professor of electrical engineering at KAIST (Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology), teaches brain science, and Jeong Ha-woong, physics professor at the same school, lectures on complex networks and big data, while Jou Kyung-chul, professor of Western history at Seoul National University, teaches modern world history. Seo Dong-wook, philosophy professor at Sogang University, gives lectures on Western thought, and Kim Sung-do, linguistics professor at Korea University, teaches media studies.

A select group of 30 students in their twenties meet every Wednesday evening for four hours to study and attend lectures by these prominent professors. Students must memorize the classics, such as “Classic of the Way and Its Power” (Dao de jing) by the ancient Chinese philosopher Laozi in Chinese and speeches by Cicero in Latin. After they complete the 10-month program in Korea, they are given the opportunity to go abroad for a month-long training program. All expenses are paid by the academy.

Professor Kim Dae-shik, who teaches brain science, introduced the students to the concepts of “brain

Students are accepted based solely on their passion and creativity, regardless of academic background, nationality, gender, or religion. the competition ratio was 1:30 this year. the topic of this year’s application essay was “Where do you see yourself and Korea in 30 years?”

32 Koreana winter 2015

1 Students of Asan Academy visit the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. After completing the initial fivemonth humanities courses in Korea, they attend overseas training programs for five months.

2 Ha Yeong-seop, president of the Korean Hansi School, teaches classical Chinese poems of the Tang Dynasty.

The students, mostly in their fifties and sixties, listen carefully to their 89-year-old teacher.

reading” (ability to read thoughts) and “brain writing” (ability to input specific information in the brain). “Ninety percent of our thoughts are actually based on an optical illusion resulting from the way our brain interprets outside information,” explained Kim. “You could say our life is the sum of all the information the brain selects and edits.” He closed the lecture saying, “It’s meaningless to just live a long life biologically. Cognitive longevity is what’s important.” The students applauded.

Oh Jeong-taek, founder of the academy, asks the professors to teach the students to become “rebels.” He said, “Only those who can challenge the norms of our time can play a central role in the coming age.” He also stressed, “In 30 years, when today’s youth take on important roles in our society, they won’t be able to produce effective solutions to problems by adhering to our current way of thinking. Completely changing 2 the frame of mind is what is required of future leaders, and for that a solid background in the humanities is necessary.”

Students are accepted based solely on their passion and creativity, regardless of academic background, nationality, gender, or religion. The competition ratio was 1:30 this year. The topic of this year’s application essay was “Where do you see yourself and Korea in 30 years?”

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©Asan Academy

understanding Ancestors through classical chinese poems The Korean Hansi School is housed in a temporary building next to Pagoda Park (Tapgol Park) in Jongnogu, Seoul. Its founder and president is Ha Yeong-seop, an 89-year-old who says he has very few friends still around. He has been teaching hansi, or classical Chinese poems, for 11 years at the school, which holds classes every Tuesday.

Ha writes a poem on the board. It is “Sentiments on New Year’s Eve on the Ba Mountain Pass” by Cui Tu, a famous poet of China’s Tang Dynasty. The poem conveys the weariness of a wayfarer who drifts from place to place. The 30 or so students reading the poem out loud with him are mostly former and current professors past middle age. Kim Ju-chang, philosophy professor at Dankook University, began attending classes at this school in September this year to acquire insight into classical Chinese poetry. The student sitting in front of him is the class president, Hwang Pil-hong, also a philosophy professor at the same university, who has been attending the school for 10 years.

Ha fell in love with Chinese poems in his fifties. “You need to study classical Chinese poems for at least 10 years to genuinely appreciate their true beauty,” he said. “It’s rewarding to be able to nurture students who can continue this marvelous tradition.” He went on, “We need to study Chinese poems if we are to gain a better understanding of the aesthetic sentiments and tastes of our ancestors. Here you can learn what the modern-day seowon do not teach.”

A number of modern-day seowon have sprung up across the country, such as Gildam Academy where people study classical texts at a book café in Tongin-dong, Seoul, and Gamidang where people gather to read diverse classics, ranging from the “Book of Changes” and “Records of the Grand Historian” to “The Annals of the Joseon Dynasty” and works by Spinoza.

Just as the seowon of the Joseon period were established as an alternative to the hyanggyo, public county schools focused on preparation for the civil service examinations, young people today are turning to the modern-day seowon for the kind of learning that is largely absent from today’s universities, which have devolved into prep schools for securing a respectable job. It is true that the humanities are declining in popularity these days, but on the other hand, for many people who are driven into cutthroat competition in this rough-and-tumble world, the humanities are where they can seek answers to the true meaning of life. This could explain the rising numbers of people who are attracted to modern-day seowon.

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FOcuS

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Lee Mae-bang performs the monk’s dance. Widely lauded as a “celestial dancer,” Lee took the dances handed down among the common people in Korea as part of Buddhist rituals, shaman rites, and folk plays, and developed them into an original form of performing art.

THE ‘CELESTIAL DANCER’ LEE MAE-BANG AND HIS WORLD OF DANCE A natural-born dancer who mesmerized audiences with his inspired performances, lee Mae-bang passed away at the age of 88 on August 7, 2015. He distinguished himself in Korea’s traditional dance scene of the 20th century and made invaluable contributions to Korean dance and the training of younger dancers to carry on the legacy. His delicate but powerful steps and moves captivated generations, and although lee Mae-bang is no longer around, his sublime artistry has left an indelible mark on the history of traditional Korean dance. yang Jong-sung Visiting Professor, Korea National University of Arts choi Byeong-jae Photographer

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n a 2001 review of “The Grand Performance: Lee Mae-bang’s Lifelong Dedication to Dance,” the late playwright Cha Beom-seok wrote: “Lee Mae-bang is what we call a celebrated dancer. Everyone has their own reasons for praising him, but I would say that he dances with his whole soul. His dance comes from the heart. It is not just a manifestation of his virtuosity but his heartfelt prayers. When he dances, his moves and expressions are so beautiful they are solemn, and so exquisite they are mysterious. His untiring energy, which fills the whole stage, and the rise and fall of his moves, create ripples that transcend the world of mortals.”

Starting Out as a dancer at Seven Lee Mae-bang was born in 1927 in Mokpo, South Jeolla Province. His family had been shamans for generations before his father abandoned the longstanding tradition. Yet the ancestral trait was in his blood, for Lee displayed a talent for dance as a young child. At age five or six, he would don his sisters’ hanbok (traditional Korean clothing) and dance in front of the mirror on his mother’s dressing table.

At seven, he joined the local gwonbeon (training institute for professional entertainers, called gisaeng, operated by the Japanese colonial government) on the recommendation of its director Ham Guk-hyang, who lived next door. There, he learned how to dance along with young girls around the age of ten who wore their hair in a long braid. Lee also learned the monk’s dance (seungmu) and sword dance (geommu) from his grandfather Lee Dae-jo, who was well known for his singing, drumming, and dancing.

While still a child, Lee traveled between his home in Mokpo and a larger institute for would-be enter36 Koreana winter 2015

tainers in Gwangju to refine his skills in the monk’s dance and drumming.

Lee spent his school years in Manchuria. During a visit to his older sister in Beijing, he was infatuated by the performance of Mei Lanfang (1894–1961), the legendary Peking Opera actor and dancer and had the good fortune to study dance with him for a short time, during which he learned the sword dance and the lamp dance. This encounter prompted Lee to change his name from Gyu-tae to Mae-bang, the Korean pronunciation of the first and last characters from the name of the revered Chinese artist.

Lee made his debut as a dancer in 1948. At a performing arts contest in Mokpo which was initiated by the renowned pansori singer Lim Bang-ul, the artist who was scheduled to perform the monk’s dance did not show up. On his teacher’s recommendation, Lee went on stage as a substitute performer and received an enthusiastic response from the audience.

Lee held his first dance recital in Gwangju in 1953, which marked the start of his life on stage. The ensuing years saw him give countless performances both in Korea and overseas, including recitals to celebrate the 50th, 60th, and 70th anniversaries of his career. From the 1980s, he played a pivotal role in introducing traditional Korean dance around the world, performing in the United States, Europe, and other countries. He was also invited to perform at the 1998 Avignon Festival in France, and was awarded the French Order of Arts and Letters that same year.

All members of Lee’s family have pursued careers in traditional dance. His wife, Kim Myeong-ja (73), and his only daughter, Lee Hyeon-ju (39), are following in his footsteps as the accredited instructor and the trainee, respectively, of the monk’s dance and exorcism dance (salpuri), which are state-designated Important Intangible Cultural Properties. Lee taught many of today’s distinguished performers of Korean dance, and over a thousand students are currently studying his versions of the monk’s dance and exorcism dance.

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©Woo-bong Leemaebang Art Company

A life dedicated to traditional dance Lee Mae-bang is widely lauded as a “celestial dancer.” He took the dances handed down in Korea as part of Buddhist rituals, shaman rites, folk plays, and the repertoires of itinerant entertainers that expressed the joys and sorrows of everyday life, and developed them into a truly original form of performing art. The dance critic Kang I-mun (1923–1992) nicknamed him the “national dancer,” and many others in the cultural circles called him “an artist sent by heaven.” Lee revived the roots of Korean dance, which had been falling out of favor in modern times, and refined this tradition into a contemporary performing arts genre and cultural heritage.

Lee Mae-bang brought to life the artistic ideals and spirit of the Korean people incorporated in their traditional dance.

Being rooted in the folk dances that had spontaneously developed, Lee’s repertoire occupied a special place in the history of Korean dance. In recognition of his contributions to the field, Lee was designated the title holder of Important Intangible Cultural Property No. 27 (Monk’s Dance) and No. 97 (Exorcism Dance) in 1987 and 1990, respectively.

Topping Lee Mae-bang’s dance lineage is a figure named Shin Bang-cho, who was born in 1817 to a family of shamans in Okgwa, South Jeolla Province. As an entertainer in exorcism rites, he was famous throughout the Homan region (encompassing South and North Jeolla Provinces) for his exceptional talent in dance, song, and percussion accompaniment, such that noted shamans in the region would vie for his presence at their rites.

Shin’s dance style was handed down to artists like Lee Jeong-seon. Highly talented not only in dancing but playing the drum and singing pansori as well, Lee also enjoyed great

1 Monks’ Chanting Dance (Boryeom Seungmu ) is a group performance rooted in Buddhist rituals.

Symbolizing a merciful heart that helps others with offerings and chants — or worldly goods and Buddhist teachings — the dance features dynamic movements.

2 In the opening part of the Dance of the Confucian Scholar (Sapung Jeonggam ), Lee Mae-bang mimics a scholar painting on his folding fan. It is a masculine dance expressing the heartfelt joy of a Confucian scholar who has realized the truth.

popularity. Later, his style was passed on to Lee Mae-bang’s teachers, such as Park Yeong-gu, Lee Daejo, Lee Chang-jo, and Jin Seok-san. Park Yeong-gu was a noted drummer and performer of the monk’s dance who taught at the Gwangju training institute. Lee Dae-jo was Lee Mae-bang’s grandfather and a master performer of the monk’s dance who taught at the Mokpo training institute. Lee Chang-jo, a performer from Neungju who was famed for his skill in the sword dance, also taught at the Gwangju institute, and Jin Seok-san (aka Jin So-hong) trained performers in the exorcism dance while running a restaurant in Insa-dong, Seoul. Lee Mae-bang inherited the essence of dance from these masters, and by learning the monk’s dance from his grandfather he kept alive the lineage of the dance in his family for the sixth generation.

Elegant Restraint Expressed with Every Fiber of the Body Lee Mae-bang’s typical repertoire included 19 dances: the Monk’s Dance, Exorcism Dance, Sword Dance, Long Sword Dance (Janggeommu ), Standing Dance (Ipchum ), Double-headed Drum Dance (Janggochum), Dance of the Confucian Scholar (Sapung Jeonggam), Dance of the Straw-hatted Child (Choripdong ), Ascension Dance (Seungcheonmu ), Great Lord’s Play (Daegam Nori ), Prayer Dance (Giwonmu), Buddhist Chanting Dance (Boryeommu), Drum Dance (Gomu), Hand Drum Dance (Sogochum), Song of Love (Sarangga), Way of the Flower Youth (Hwarangdo), Dance of the Prodigal Man (Hallyangmu), Dance of the Taoist Sage (Sinseonmu), and the Story of Chunhyang (Chunhyang-jeon).

Lee Mae-bang’s monk’s dance was infused with a strong Buddhist flavor epitomizing the ideal of “movement in stillness.” With his elegant and intense movements, Lee transformed the monk’s dance, which had typically been performed by female dancers to entertain male customers, into a sublime art form. His monk’s dance was the portrayal of a human being striving to discard worldly concerns and bring the long journey of life to the transcendental realm.

In pre-modern Korea, the salpuri dance was performed to ward off evil spirits and prevent misfortune. But Lee’s version was characterized by a graceful expression of sorrow. Acclaimed as “a soulful dance,” it was highly restrained as Lee skillfully controlled and released tension in his movements.

The originality of Lee’s dance was achieved through a dexterous mixture of contrasting qualities: light and heavy, fast and slow, slack and taut, delicate and dynamic, exquisite and stately. His dance expressed sadness and happiness, regret and relief, suffering and bliss, tranquility and turmoil. Ultimately, he danced to convey, and overcome, all the agonies, joys, sorrows, hopes, and happiness of life.

These profound sentiments were delivered in the most subtle of steps, refined gestures of the hands and arms, varied body movements, and the mystic facial expressions of someone in a trance, all of which held the audience in thrall.

Lee is known to have said many times, “All my life, I’ve never worried about what to wear or what to eat. I’ve done nothing but dance.” He would reprimand his disciples if they sought fame rather than dedicate themselves to the basics of dance, while he would personally see to it that everyone’s stage costume was ready for a performance. He was a teacher and artist who pursued perfection and refused to compromise his principles in any matter. In tribute to one of Lee’s recitals, the playwright Cha Beomseok wrote, “You may very well be one of the loneliest souls in the world, like a wanderer who has set off on a long journey well before the day breaks.”

All through his life, Lee believed that a dancer should have a good heart to dance beautifully. A man who possessed a clear philosophy of dance and uncompromising spirit, Lee Mae-bang will live forever in the memories and dance movements of posterity. ©Woo-bong Leemaebang Art Company

38 Koreana winter 2015

“All my life, I’ve never worried about what to wear or what to eat. I’ve done nothing but dance.”

Lee Mae-bang brought alive the version of exorcism dance originating from the Honam region, where his hometown was located.

Originally part of the traditional shamanic rites to expel misfortune, it was developed into a refined dance performance.

Korean Culture & arts 39

IntERvIEW

H A N K A N G “lAnGuAGE GIvES ME A cERtAIn pAIn”

Kang Ji-hee Literary Critic Baik da-huim Photographer

two decades or so since her debut, Han Kang is one of Korea’s most prominent writers today with a slew of honors, such as the yi Sang literary Award (2005) and the tong-ni literary Award (2010). this year, her novella “the vegetarian” was published in English translation by portobello Books in England to high acclaim. Han has also signed a contract for the publication rights of her 2014 novel “Here comes the Boy” (“Human Acts” in the English translation) with the largest u.S. publisher, penguin-Random House, through its Hogarth imprint, which specializes in literature.

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ince her literary debut, first with poems in 1993 and then a novel in 1994, Han Kang has written and published continuously. One literary critic called her works “fingerprints of light,” for they record human tragedy and pain in poetic language. She knows how to depict the face of fate, which rules an entire life, by seizing on a momentary, aesthetic impression. She is thus an impressionist who focuses on the dim light of redemption, only reachable from the abyss of despair.

Impressionist who portrays Fate with Fleeting Senses KJ You studied Korean literature at Yonsei University and worked briefly at a publishing company after graduation. Your father is the well-known novelist Han Seung-won, and you have said that the only thing plentiful in your childhood was books. Your life cannot be thought of apart from books, so it seems natural, or perhaps even inevitable, that you became a writer. Still, was there a particular moment when you decided to become a writer?

HK When I was in the ninth grade, I read the first collection of stories by the then young Lim Chulwoo. As I read his short story “Sapyeong Station,” I noticed with surprise that the story is driven not by a specific protagonist but by the darkness of the night and the snow, the small, cold train station in the countryside, and the light of its stove burning sawdust — that life itself could become the main character and flow with its own inner rhythm. I was fascinated by the story’s unique approach, and I can remember that for the first time I seriously wanted to write a story in my own special way.

KJ If you had not become a writer, what do you think you would be doing now?

HK In high school, I wanted to be a backwoods traveler, but in university I liked to watch plays. I was too shy to join a theater club, but I remember that as I looked at the dark stage before the curtain rose I wanted to be up there. I somehow felt that was my place . . . I wanted to laugh and cry there.

KJ A backwoods traveler? That’s a surprise.

HK I saw a fortuneteller a long time ago who said my destiny was to be a vagabond, roaming from one place to the next. (Laughs) I do like to get around and see new places.

KJ Not only your acclaimed novella “The Vegetarian,” which has been translated into several languages, but many of your other works could be called “artist novels” because they deal with artists such as painters, photographers, sculptors, and video artists.

HK It’s probably because I like art and have always been influenced by it. But I’m surprised whenever somebody describes my novels that way. I thought I was just writing about people. But when I hear the description “artist novel,” I wonder whether it wasn’t my obsession with language that drew me to art.

But ultimately I’m a writer dealing with language, so I want to make my way with language alone. Language gives me a certain pain, and my task will always be to fight against that pain. thoughts on Religion and love KJ Your works such as “Baby Buddha” and “The Story of a Crimson Flower” reveal strong Buddhist sentiments. I once heard that literature is born when you turn your back on God. What do you think about religion?

HK I was deeply engrossed in Buddhism in my late twenties. Because Buddhist thinking is so deeply engrained in me, when I encounter certain thoughts and ideas, I still compare them with Buddhism, to

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see how similar or different they are. Only when I was 31 did I begin to distance myself from such thinking. I was very ill then. Usually, people seek religion when they are sick, but in my case it was the opposite.

Without believing in anything or relying upon anything, I wanted to see everything anew with my own eyes — my naked eyes without any shield. Later, I read some physics books for the same reason. I wanted to understand the world as it is, as if for the first time.

KJ As for love, it seems to be rather limited in your works, with many characters who are afraid of love or see it as something fleeting. But while they might

be skeptical, their love is perhaps all the more explosive and intense, inasmuch as love for them is momentary and something to be feared. In that same context, the body seems to be something like an outer shell that is afflicted with pain, but some scenes describe amazingly deep intimacy, greater than love, in the moment when the bodies come together and become one. What is love for you?

HK I would have to say I don’t know.

That’s the most accurate answer for now.

My fifth novel, “Greek Lessons,” is a story about a woman and a man. I have written other novels where a man and a woman appear, but this is the first that was meant to be “the story of a man and a woman” from the beginning. But it isn’t really a fullon love story, but the story about two people who quietly come together, drawn by their sense of each other’s presence. The man slowly loses his sight, which in some sense portrays ourselves as we slowly lose our lives, moment by moment. The woman, who suddenly lost the ability to speak, suffers in subtle ways from the violence implicit in language. I wanted to capture the moment when the two people’s lives overlap at a sensitive point.

Gwangju — understanding Human cruelty and dignity KJ “Here Comes the Boy” deals with one of the deepest wounds in Korea’s modern history, for it’s a story about the Gwangju Democratiza-

tion Movement of May 1980. In the long epilogue you wrote in place of an author’s preface, I was touched by the statement: “They stayed because they did not want to be victims.”

HK I was nine years old when the Gwangju uprising, or massacre, took place.

I was born in Gwangju but my family moved to Seoul just four months before the incident. Our move was not intended as an escape, but it looked that way, as if we had left to avoid the violence. So we felt a kind of guilt for a long time. What happened in Gwangju was distorted in news reports and public announcements by the new military regime, but we had friends and relatives there, so we were able to hear about what really happened. I was very young, but I heard about the terrible situation by eavesdropping on the adults’ conversations.

Because I was young, the incident was imprinted on my mind as a fear of humans instead of hatred toward the military regime. Humans are scary, and I am one of them, I thought in my fear. At the same time, I was very impressed by those people who fought against such horrible violence.

So to speak, two unsolvable riddles were tossed my way.

As I researched the incident after deciding to write this novel, I realized that it had been much more horrific than I had thought. I also did research on similar cases, such as Auschwitz, Bosnia, Cambodia, the Nanjing Massacre, the Great Kanto Earthquake, and the massacre of Native Americans, among others. The

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“I think writing is like striking a match, watching the flame light up and continuing to watch until it burns out. Perhaps that’s all that a novel can do. To ask questions about human beings and life as we gaze at the light.”

42 Koreana winter 2015

more material I accumulated, the more I thought I would not be able to write this novel. I sensed so deep a threat, a fear that my trust in people was being destroyed.

But I was able to write the novel in the end thanks to the second riddle that was thrown at me. I ruminated over the fact that there were people in Gwangju in 1980 who, in the midst of such extreme violence, strived to preserve human dignity. Only after realizing that they had made a choice not to become “victims” was I able to go ahead with the novel. So I wrote, starting with human cruelty and moving toward human dignity, telling myself I would be honest, and accept whatever came about, even if my beliefs were to be shaken.

1 The cover page of the Korean version of “Here Comes the Boy,” which deals with the Gwangju Democratization Movement of May 1980. The novel is scheduled to be published in English under the title “Human Acts” in January 2016

by Penguin-Random House through its Hogarth imprint.

2 “The Vegetarian,” featuring a main character who distances herself from eating meat because of a childhood memory and believes herself to be turning into a tree, was published in English translation by Portobello Books early this year.

3 Han Kang has published various works written in a careful and serious style, showing a deep perception of the world. Inviting readers to explore varied themes, she is one of Korea’s most prominent writers today.

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©Park Jae-hong

death, Soul, and candlelight on the Snow KJ “Here Comes the Boy” ends with a scene where you are silently gazing at the flames of candles as they slowly melt down onto the snow. Your short story, “While a Snowflake is Melting,” for which you received the Hwang Sun-won Literary Award, starts with a dead person’s return and snow again seems to have an important symbolic meaning.

HK I thought of the candlelight scene when I first started writing “Here Comes the Boy.” In the first chapter, Dong-ho lights candles for the spirits of the dead as he believes that they will approach the light.

I decided to end the novel with a scene, 30 years later, of gazing at the candles in front of Dong-ho’s tomb. “While a Snowflake is

Melting” is a short story that came to me straight after “Here Comes the Boy.” It’s the story of a spirit who visits the narrator one night and the conversation they have.

While I was writing the novel, and even after I had finished it, there were times I felt that the deaths were inside me. For the rest of my life I will have to embrace the traces of those deaths, though the feeling will probably fade slowly. The story about the spirit...well, the spirit was the thing that felt closest to me after finishing “Here Comes the Boy.” The image of snow, which is so clean as it falls, completely covers everything and then disappears, this all overlaps with the image of the spirit inside me.

KJ It’s now more than twenty years since you started writing fiction. Is there anything that has changed in your thoughts or your attitude toward literature? What do you think literature exists to testify to?

HK Before, I would just write as much as I could. I think I wrote just to survive.

Maybe I still do. But I think writing is like striking a match, watching the flame light up and continuing to watch until it burns out. Perhaps that’s all that a novel can do.

To ask questions about human beings and life as we gaze at the light. In some ways, I feel that I keep pushing my life forward little by little as I finish one novel and go on to the next. After just managing to complete the questions I had been holding onto in one novel, I move on to the next novel, the next questions, the next step in life. That’s all.

There’s a gentle quietude about Han Kang. Whenever I read her novels early in the morning, I feel as if I have just left a chapel after sitting there quietly alone for a long time. The history of slaughter by humankind is probably the history of fire.

But the writer finds a snowflake that miraculously does not melt in fire. With human dignity, feeble but not yet lost entirely, and hope that can cleanse impure suspicions about life — in this way Han Kang’s literature protects us.

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ARt REvIEW

1 “Self-portrait in traditional coat,” late 1940s, Oil on canvas, 72 x 60 cm, private collection. this is an iconic painting by lee Quede, who spent the chaotic period of ideological conflict after national liberation of 1945 in agony and went to north Korea as a part of the prisoners-of-war exchange during the Korean War. In the background behind the artist is a typical Korean landscape with mountains and fields.

2 visitors look at paintings at the exhibition “lee Quede: An Epic of liberation” held July 22–november 1, 2015, at the national Museum of contemporary Art, deoksugung, in commemoration of the 70th anniversary of Korea’s liberation from 44 Koreana winter 2015 Japanese colonial rule.

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ARt REvIEW

LEE QUEDE A lEGEndARy pAIntER WHO lIvEd tHROuGH An AGE OF tuRMOIl

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the exhibition “lee Quede: An Epic of liberation” was held July 22–november 1 this year at the national Museum of Modern and contemporary Art, deoksugung, in Seoul, to commemorate the 70th anniversary of Korea’s independence. In 1988, the Korean government’s nordpolitik led to the lifting of a decades-long ban on works by many artists who had defected to north Korea during the chaotic post-liberation period. the painter lee Quede (1913–1965, also known as yi Kwae-dae) was among those artists who emerged from the shadows. this exhibition featured many new materials that have helped to shed light on the life and work of an outstanding artist who lived through Korea’s tumultuous modern history.

Kim yoo-kyung Journalist Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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Independence and Ideological conflict From his 20s until his defection to North Korea in 1953, Lee was an active artist. He left about 60 paintings behind that vividly convey his resistance against the circumstances of the time.

Between 1941 and 1944, Lee founded and led the New Artists Association, along with Kim Jong-chan, Moon Hak-su, Lee JungMajor life Influences seop, Jin Hwan, and Choe Jae-deok. Remaining from that time are Lee Quede was born into a landowning family in Chilgok, North letters that the artists exchanged and materials related to the exhiGyeongsang Province. During his days at Whimoon High School in Seoul, he studied under the artist Chang Bal (1901–2001) and later bitions they organized as they met at Jeil and Jeonwon tea houses attended the Imperial Art School in Japan (now Musashino Art Uniin Myeong-dong. Lee produced works such as “Swing,” “Portrait of a Woman,” “Horse,” and “Young Lady,” and also held a solo exhibiversity).

In the late 1930s, Lee entered tion titled “Lee Quede’s Oil Painthis paintings “Dancer’s Recess,” ings.”

“Destiny,” and “Evening Picnic” in Art critic Park Mun-won (1920– Nikaten, a private art competition 1973) noted at the time, “The paintin Japan. When “Destiny” earned ings by members of the New Artan award, it is said the people of ists Association were decadent and his hometown held a big party escapist, but their resistance was to celebrate but were later flusmore against the Choson Art Exhitered to find out that the painting bition [organized by the Japanese depicted a man’s death. In those colonial government], and underlydays, Lee was focused on depicting their work was the quest to seek and protect things that are truly ing his fellow Koreans. Men, as Korean.” household heads, were linked with Lee Quede’s views on the nation’s images of death as if to symbolize situation are clearly expressed in a country in decline, while women a letter he sent to Jin Hwan upon with their glowering stares and national liberation: “The long awaitdetermined faces were portrayed as goddesses leading the crowd, ed day of exhilaration is finally here. as seen in “People.” “Couple PlayWe artists have come together under the precious slogans ‘Unite, ing Cards,” also from the 1930s, 1 mingle and don’t fight amongst reveals the tension and discomfort ourselves’ and ‘Play a role no matfelt by a couple upon the intrusion of a stranger. ter how small in the history of our 1 “Spring Maiden,” Late 1940s, Oil on canvas, 45.7 × 38.3 cm, Private Lee Quede was ideologically country’ to make a contribution to collection. This picture of a strong, poised woman is recognized as one influenced by his older brother, the nation. Dear brother, come to of the masterpieces of modern Korean painting.

Lee Yeo-seong (born Lee MyeongSeoul as soon as possible to give us 2 “People 4,” Circa 1948, Oil on canvas, 177 x 216 cm, Private collection.

The “People” series is a rare masterpiece, known to be inspired by geon, 1901–?), who was a newspastrength.” realist murals the artist saw in Haeju, while traveling North Korea in Kim Ye-jin, curator of the recent per reporter, independence activ1946. exhibition, noted, “Independence ist, historical painter, and author of 3 The palette used by Lee Quede was a huge life-altering event for “The History of Korean Costume” Lee Quede, both as an artist and an individual. Few artists agonized (Joseon boksik go). Thanks to his brother, he did not turn a blind eye so much over the role of the artist and put their thoughts into action to the country’s grim situation under Japan’s occupation. as Lee did. For this, he has a very special place in the history of At the age of 20, Lee married Ryu Kap-pong (1914–1980), the modern Korean art.” woman he loved and model for all the women in his paintings as well as the person who managed to save all of his earlier works.

Her initials are found in the corner of “Woman in a Red Coat,” datA Self-proclaimed nationalist ing to the 1930s, along with a written pledge by Lee to devote his life Amid the vortex of ideological conflict, Lee Quede, an unequivoto art: “K.P.R. This is my calling, against all odds.” cal advocate for elimination of the remnants of Japanese imperialhe recent Lee Quede exhibition featured 412 objects, including 41 oil paintings. It provided a rare opportunity to view such noteworthy paintings as “Self-portrait in Traditional Coat,” “People,” “Dahlia,” and “Horse.”

46 Koreana winter 2015

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“Independence was a huge life-altering event for Lee Quede, both as an artist and an individual. Few artists agonized so much over the role of the artist and put their thoughts into action as Lee did. For this, he has a very special place in the history of modern Korean art.�

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Korean Culture & arts 47

1 “Situation,” 1938, Oil on canvas, 156 x 128 cm, Private collection.

The woman in the center, who looks like a dancer, seems to have kicked the bowl with her foot. Near the upturned bowl, broken objects are scattered about.

The perplexed expressions on the faces of the people behind convey a sense of unease and tension.

2 “Portrait of Madame Lee,” 1943, Oil on canvas, 70 x 60 cm, Private collection.

Entered in the 3rd New Artists’ Association Exhibition, this painting features Lee’s wife as the model, as with most of his paintings of women.

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ism from the local art scene and an adamant objector to the establishment of a separate government in South Korea, called himself a nationalist. Though he had joined the Choson Art Construction Headquarters, formed in South Korea in 1945, he ended up leaving the group when it started to show ideological biases. He then joined the Choson Art Alliance in North Korea in 1946, but soon withdrew from this organization as well. That same year Lee traveled around North Korea but was disappointed by the propaganda art there. He was impressed, however, by a giant mural which showed the influence of Soviet socialist realism. Upon his return, he wrote “Report on North Korean Art” for the literary magazine Sin Cheonji (New World).

Later he became chairman of the Choson Art and Culture Asso48 Koreana winter 2015

ciation and was also one of the artists recommended for the 1st Korean National Art Exhibition. But the still life that he submitted was rather ordinary. “I should have presented a better work but unfortunately, circumstances were such that all I could manage was this small piece,” he said, hinting at his perturbed state of mind and situation.

After his brother, Lee Yeo-seong, defected to the North in 1948, Lee Quede was constantly summoned for interrogation, and after the police repeatedly visited his atelier, Seongbuk Painting Institute, he closed it down. Thereafter, the National Guidance Alliance forced him to switch his ideology and produce anti-communist posters, and to deliver anti-communist messages in public.

The five self-portraits shown in the recent exhibition well depict

the artist’s changing sense of self during this tumultuous period.

While “Self-portrait 1” captures the face of a fearless young man, “Self-portrait 3,” a photo-realistic work produced after his visit to North Korea in 1946, depicts a man who is starting to grasp the grimness of reality. “Self-portrait in Traditional Coat” is Lee’s iconic masterpiece. Holding a palette marked with brushstrokes and several Asian-style paintbrushes, he stands firm, facing front with jaws clenched and his coat fluttering in the wind, as if declaring, “I am an artist of Korea.” The background shows women carrying water pots or baskets of food on their heads as they walk along the peaceful country roads.

The counterpart to this selfportrait is “Spring Maiden.” The woman has calm eyes and a healthy build; she walks forward while stroking her luscious hair.

This is another masterpiece in a different style, the peaceful background scenery rendered in a more abstract manner. Though a dexterous painting of a woman with poise and grace rarely found in Korea’s modern art history, this work was not on exhibit. To add Korean character to Western oil painting, Lee used Asian-style paintbrushes and made heavy use of black lines, a technique that harks back to Korea’s folk painting tradition.

The “People” series also stands out. These paintings reflect Lee’s views on the role of paintings in society under the obvious influence of the striking mural he came across in Haeju, North Korea. However, the leftists criticized him for being too “bourgeois” and painting non-propaganda pictures with unclear messages, while the rightists felt “uncomfortable” with his criticism of reality, especially his depiction of the U.S. military’s bombing of Dokdo islets.

At Lee’s Seongbuk Painting Institute, housed in a building with a high ceiling, many aspiring artists, such as Kwon Jin-kyu and Chon Roe-jin, learned from him. Recalling those days, Kim Suk-jin said, “The ‘People’ paintings were first drawn in sections and pieced together on the canvas. I was in charge of enlarging the drawings.”

Kim Tschang-yeul called Lee “My only teacher, a true man of character.” When Lee Quede’s first exhibition in South Korea was held at Shinsegye Art Gallery in 1991, the old men and women from Lee’s hometown of Chilgok who came to see the paintings commented,

“It took 30 majigi [one majigi roughly equals 660 square meters] of his family farmlands to complete these works.”

Korean War and northbound defection After the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950, Lee was unable to leave Seoul because of his sick mother and pregnant wife. Instead, he rejoined the Choson Art Alliance and produced portraits of Kim Il-sung and Stalin. During the Second Battle of Seoul in late 1950, he was arrested by the South Korean Army and sent to the prisoner-of-war camp on Geoje Island.

That was to be his final domicile in South Korea. The American head of the POW camp recognized him and asked him to paint family portraits, and even allowed him to visit Busan to buy painting supplies and meet with friends. It is said that when doing the portrait of an American family with a baby in the mother’s arms, he wept as he said, “My baby Han-woo [Lee’s youngest son, born in August 1950] is just about his age.” The murals remaining in the camp were apparently produced under Lee’s supervision.

While teaching art to a 17-year old named Lee Ju-yeong at the camp, Lee created a “human anatomy notebook” for him. According to Lee Ju-yeong, “Lee Quede’s life was in danger at the camp because 2 of powerful people in the art scene and the rightists who tried to eliminate him by accusing him of being a leftist.” Lee subsequently suffered from ulcers that made it difficult for him to eat properly. Finally, during the POW exchange of 1953, he chose to go to the North.

Lee Quede was an active artist in North Korea, but after his brother was purged he disappeared from the art scene. His name finally reemerged in the news in 1999, when it was reported that he had remarried in the North and had a son and a daughter before his death in 1965.

For decades, Lee’s wife and family in the South have held onto all the paintings he had left behind. The recent exhibition only showed a small part of Lee’s work after his defection to North Korea. However, as stated by the curator of the exhibition, Kim Ye-jin, it was a meaningful first step in research on Lee Quede, whose life and art have largely remained shrouded in mystery.

Korean Culture & arts 49

GuARdIAn OF HERItAGE

Reviving the tradition of Geomungo the geomungo is a six-stringed, traditional Korean zither whose origins date back some 1,500 years. It is commonly known as a masculine instrument for its deep, resonant sound. Heo yoon-jeong is a highly acclaimed geomungo player who is more widely known abroad than in Korea.

Well-versed in traditional music and dance, she chose the geomungo as her life companion, captivated by its soulstirring meditative sounds. chung Jae-suk Editorial Writer and Senior Culture Reporter, The JoongAng Ilbo nah Seung-yull Photographer

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50 Koreana winter 2015

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eo Yoon-jeong has revived the near-forgotten sound of the geomungo in contemporary music. Amidst a wave of fusion and crossovers in which many of her gugak (traditional Korean music) contemporaries have turned to Western-style music, she has remained steadfast in her devotion to her instrument. The profound sounds flowing from her instrument is infused with the uncompromising spirit of gugak and the power of tradition.

She has a small physique, but her powerful performance mesmerizes audiences who gaze in rapturous awe wondering where such vibrant energy comes from. Playing an instrument with a robust, sonorous sound gives her the great satisfaction and pleasure of pushing the limits of physical realm.

“I’ve always felt that the geomungo is a perfect fit for me,” said Heo. “I learned traditional dance when I was young and I can feel that rhythm in the geomungo. I love the instrument’s percussive pulse when I pluck the silk strings with the suldae (short bamboo stick). Also, the beat I learned from samul-nori (neo-traditional percussion quartet) exists in the beat of plucking the strings. I’ve always been drawn to the deep, low tones of instruments like the cello or viola, which is also a reason why I chose the geomungo.”

drawn to the deep, Majestic Sound When Heo was studying music in the 1980s, the geomungo was gradually falling out of favor. The once popular instrument, which only the top-tier gugak students could major in, was losing ground amidst the burgeoning fusion music scene. As a heavy and cumbersome instrument to carry around, it could not keep pace with the trend toward popularization of traditional Korean music, and thus was shunned by musicians.

“I once thought of majoring in ajaeng (seven-string fiddle),” said Heo. “Playing the instrument gave me a kind of catharsis. But after two or three years, I realized it wasn’t for me. You could say that after having an affair I longed more for my ‘former spouse.’ I became more certain than ever that the geomungo was my true passion. I decided to devote myself wholeheartedly to it and then delved more deeply into its sounds.”

Her late father Heo Gyu (1934–2000) has been a great influence on her developing such a single-minded focus. He was a prominent playwright and director who did much to rejuvenate the spirit of traditional performing arts. He also served as head of the National Theater of Korea. The Bukchon Changwoo Theater, which Heo Yoon-jeong currently heads, is a traditional arts theater that was built by her father. She grew up watching the performers on stage and nurtured her own dreams. “My father always told me to pursue what’s everlasting. That for me was the geomungo,” she said. “The various performances we are planning to stage at the Bukchon Changwoo Theater are an extension of our desire to restore the perpetuity of traditional arts.”

In the past, Heo was not afforded many opportunities to perform on stage in Korea as the geomungo was not a popular instrument

among local audiences. People generally presumed that traditional instrument recitals would be boring and difficult to appreciate.

Thus, she became more active overseas. And her performances earned rave reviews from musical circles abroad. In July this year, her performance at the Yeowoorak Festival (“Here Is Our Music”) at the National Theater of Korea marked her triumphant return.

Renowned jazz vocalist Nah Youn-sun, the artistic director of this festival, did not hesitate to feature Heo as the Artist of the Year.

“It felt so great to be recognized for my hard work and all those years performing at overseas venues,” Heo said. “I was honored to share the stage with master musicians Chung Jae-guk (piri, bamboo oboe) and Won Jang-hyun (daegeum , bamboo flute). It filled me with an overwhelming sense of pride that we were carrying on our tradition. Connecting with them through music on stage, I realized that there was an aspect of traditional Korean music that could appeal to people today.”

Embracing the Sounds of Other Instruments Armed with the confidence of a performer who has received enthusiastic responses at music festivals and theaters abroad, Heo displayed the many facets of her musical talent at the Yeowoorak Festival. Her performance reflected a broad range of experiences that she had gained from leading various music projects, including the Tori Ensemble, a world music project consisting of three traditional Korean music performers and three free jazz musicians from New York; Black String, a string band that focuses on improvisational music; and EASTrio (East Asian String Trio), a group that integrates the sounds of the geomungo, China’s pipa (four-string mandolin), and Japan’s shamisen (three-string lute).

In regard to the festival’s “Timeless Time” program, Heo explained, “It was a collaborative performance with jazz artists. The geomungo did not take center stage, but played a supporting role, enveloping and embracing the sounds of other instruments. It was a delightful experience. Afterward, people told me it was unique even though the geomungo did not stand out as much as they had expected. I discovered the capacity of the geomungo not only as a solo instrument, but also to lead other instruments.”

Now that she is nearing 50, Heo says she feels a sense of obligation to discover and foster young talent in traditional Korean music.

Having undergone many hardships during her early years, she understands the plight of young students and feels the need to support them. She is now at a stage in her career where her primary goal is not to focus on just her own music, but to create music together with others.

1 Heo Yoon-jeong plays Her music is no longer motivated by perthe geomungo at the sonal ambition, but a warmhearted sense Yeowoorak Festival, of togetherness. held at the National Theater of Korea in “The geomungo is my teacher,” Heo July 2015, where she said.

“It is a central instrument in tradiwas featured as the Artist of the Year. tional Korean music, comparable to the Korean Culture & arts 51

©Gwangju World Music Festival

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“My identity is embedded in tradition. I always revert back to it. I may take an interest in other types of music, but I always find myself going back to tradition, which is what anchors me.” piano in Western classical music. It is an instrument that carries a deep philosophy and can give expression to the ideals of traditional rites and music. The geomungo embodies the spirt of the classical scholars of the Joseon Dynasty. And this is probably why it is commonly referred to as a masculine instrument.”

Heo imbues the masculine instrument with feminine qualities, thereby broadening its musical spectrum. Like a mother’s warm embrace, she gives variation to its sound by interacting with other musical genres, at times collaborating with jazz vocalists or integrating electronic sounds.

Firmly Rooted in tradition Although her music crosses the boundaries between tradition and contemporary styles, the conventional and the unconventional, Heo Yoon-jeong has remained steadfast to the traditional roots of the geomungo. Nah Youn-sun, who regarded this highly and chose her as the main artist of this year’s Yeowoorak Festival, says, “Heo Yoon-jung shines even brighter because she carries the weight of tradition.” As the successor of the Han Gap-deuk (1919–1987) style of geomungo sanjo , which has been designated Important Intangible Cultural Property No. 16, Heo has walked a single path, never faltering.

“My identity is embedded in tradition,” she said. “I always revert back to it. I may take an interest in other types of music, but I always find myself going back to tradition, which is what anchors me. The geomungo that carries my music is an instrument that lies at the core of our musical tradition.”

This is one of the reasons why Heo is now making efforts to bring old musical scores back to life. She has recorded the court ensemble pieces of the Yi Royal Family Music Institution from the 1930s 52 Koreana winter 2015

1 Heo Yoon-jeong performs with musicians from various genres as part of the “Korea, China and Japan Project” at the 2013 Gwangju World Music Festival. From left: Jazz vocalist and composer Jen Shyu (U.S.); pipa player Min Xiaofen (China); geomungo player Heo Yoon-jeong (Korea); and percussionist Satoshi Takeishi (Japan).

2 Heo Yoon-jeong performs as a guest artist with the Nah Youn-sun Quartet at the National Theater of Korea in 2013.

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and 1940s, which highlight the geomongo and daegeum, and published a music book, in Korean and English, to make old musical scores more accessible to today’s musicians. She also intends to further expand the geomungo’s repertoire by searching for works from North Korea, which are very rare.

Heo is busy with preparations for an upcoming album as well as a string of performances at home and abroad. As part of the Ensemble SANI, she gave performances in London this past August and participated in “Journey to Korean Music 2015” in Seoul in October. The ensemble is composed of like-minded musician friends who have been playing together since their school years. (Sani is an archaic Korean word meaning “entertainer” or “performer.”)

“Music transcends nationality and genre. You can make good music together with anyone,” said Heo. “One of the main reasons traditional Korean music remains unpopular with the general public and is less appreciated is that people don’t come into contact with it often enough. If we take art as an example, people go to exhibitions and also make an effort to learn about the artworks before-

hand so as to gain a better understanding of what story they are trying to tell. Unfortunately, that’s not the case with traditional Korean music. The ‘suppliers,’ that is, the people in the industry like me, are also partly to blame. But I think that the attitude of the ‘consumers’ also needs to change. Rather than shunning traditional music because it is unfamiliar, people should just try to enjoy it. Frequent exposure is needed if music is to capture and touch people’s hearts.”

Heo dreams of a future when traditional Korean music can appeal to the masses. To this end, she is working hard to reach out to a wider audience in Korea and captivate them with her exhilarating performances that have won high acclaim overseas.

“I have a lot of stamina that comes from my many years of dancing,” Heo said with confidence. “When I was young, I would watch my father rehearse a play for seven to eight hours straight. I think I’ve inherited that energy. What’s there to worry about when I have the geomungo, my soulmate and life companion, by my side?”

Korean Culture & arts 53

tAlES OF tWO KOREAS

First, Speak the Same language

Kim Hak-soon Journalist; Visiting Professor, School of Media and Communication, Korea University Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Alternative Schools Help Young Defectors Adapt to New Home young north Korean defectors who arrive in South Korea after an arduous journey hope to enjoy their new-found

freedom. However, many of them are forced to live in a world of their own, unable to adapt to the unfamiliar environment in the South. their failure to adjust to South Korean society is not simply their own problem, but a serious matter that all of society should help to address. under these circumstances, alternative schools make efforts to help these youngsters develop a stable emotional outlook and adapt to their new home.

1 Students play soccer on the playground of Hangyeore High School, the only regular secondary school for adolescent North Korean defectors in South Korea.

The school, in which all of about 200 students live in a dorm, offers various afterclass vocational training programs, so that they can better adapt to South Korean society.

2 Ju Myong-hwa, the principal of Kumkang School, in class with students of varied ages. Most of them, who are attending regular schools nearby, live at this school's dorm and brush up there on subjects in which they aren’t doing well.

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54 Koreana winter 2015

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angyeore High School is the only regular secondary school for adolescent North Korean defectors in South Korea. Korean language classes at this school are much like foreign language classes.

Students often cannot understand their teachers’ Korean properly, so they ask the same questions again and again. Many students complain that they have difficulty understanding lessons because North and South Koreans use different words for the same things in many cases.

For example, South Koreans call fried rice “bokkeumbap”; it is “gireumbap” (oiled rice) in North Korea.

The South Korean word for chicken farm is “yanggyejang” but to a North Korean, it is “dakgongjang” (chicken factory). In South Korea, a parking lot is “juchajang ;” but North Koreans say “chamadang ” (car yard).

Instead of the South Korean word “munjang” (sentence), North Koreans use “geultomak” (group of words).

People from one side find it difficult to understand the other side’s words. They may speak the same language, but their vocabularies have diverged. Russian used to be the first foreign language for North Korean students and North Koreans seldom adopt foreign words as they are, but use Korean equivalents. South Korean students learn English as their first foreign language and are familiar with many Chinese words.

language Barrier, Emotional Instability Currently, about 30 percent of words used by people on either side of the divided peninsula are quite unfamiliar to the other side, says Hangyeore principal Kwak Jong-moon. For this reason, each classroom displays a chart of major Korean words that are used differently by each side. In an effort to narrow the language gap, Hangyeore offers a standard South Korean language instruction program through its broadcast system, and conducts a 30-minute reading time every morning as well as Hangeul contests.

No less important to the school is to provide the students with psychological support so that they can acquire emotional stability.

It is difficult for the young defectors to overcome the suffering and hardship that they experienced during their escape from the North at the risk of their lives. Chung Kwang-min, a 19-year-old student who fled the North in 2013, has been in South Korea for about six months. He escaped with his parents, but they were both caught

by North Korean border guards and sent to prison. Whenever he is alone, the boy sheds tears thinking of his parents. The only joy he

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has is to share the snacks that he gets from his older sister with his friends. His sister arrived in the South in 2009.

Kim Kyung-mi, a meditation teacher, helps the students to develop emotional stability through meditation and psychotherapy programs under the theme “In Search of the Real Me.” She advises the students: “Value yourselves above anything else.” “Students have a lot of worries,” another teacher, Kim Yong-bae, says. “I’m trying to help them understand that they’re not quite as isolated and lonely as they think.” For this reason, all teachers receive training in psychological therapies. To help the students gain psychological stability as quickly as possible, it is important to respect them and care for them to the utmost extent, Shin Ho-rae, vice principal of Hangyeore, pointed out.

Hangyeore: the Only Regular School for Adolescent defectors Hangyeore High School, located in Anseong, Gyeonggi Province, was established by the Won Buddhism Foundation in 2006 to help adolescent North Korean defectors overcome the emotional hardships they had suffered in the process of escaping from the North and adapt to South Korean society. The curriculum at this school is different from that of regular schools. Above all, many classes

are focused on helping students to develop psychological and emotional stability, fit into the South Korean educational system, and improve their ability to adapt to their new life. As they progress in these classes, the students receive instruction to improve their Korean proficiency, along with English and math skills, and sociocultural adaptability through social studies, science, music, arts, and physical education.

In particular, this school offers a wide array of after-school vocational training courses that can lead to license qualification in 15 vocational fields, including baking, cooking, skin care, nail art, makeup, operation of heavy equipment (like forklift and backhoe), barista, and computer servicing. In 2014, a total of 102 students qualified for forklift operator licenses. Teachers themselves have undergone vocational training in addition to the regular subject that they teach; all teachers hold two or three professional licenses or certificates. An ethics teacher gives forklift training and an English teacher conducts barista courses. The students are encouraged to find jobs or enter a two- or three-year junior college after graduation, rather than pursuing degrees at four-year universities that might not lead to guaranteed employment.

Classroom instruction and academic progression are not very Korean Culture & arts 55

important at this school. The students are trained to adapt naturally to South Korean society through their participation in volunteer and hands-on activities. Classes by volunteer teachers are also of great help to them. For example, workshops and lessons given by the renowned conductor Keum Nan-sae and the well-known poet Ahn Do-hyun were highly appreciated. Students also engage in afterschool club activities with much enthusiasm. Through a variety of out-of-school activities, such as visits to the demilitarized zone, the easternmost islets of Dokdo, and factories, as well as handson work experiences, cultural immersion, reforestation and crosscountry walking programs, students are exposed to diverse aspects of South Korean society, culture, and everyday life.

Hangyeore offers middle and high school programs. But in fact, it serves as a stepping-stone school that offers primary to secondary school programs for young North Korean defectors, aged 13 to 24, so that they can transfer to regular schools. All of the 200 or so students live at the school dormitory. About 20 percent of them have no parents and only 13 percent have both parents. Many have only their mother.

“Parents feel assured because of the good dorm and good guidance by teachers,” Kwak Jong-moon, the Hangyeore principal, said.

The school’s facilities are as good as those at regular schools. Three 56 Koreana winter 2015

to four students share a room and do their own laundry and cleaning; meals are provided by the school cafeteria.

Most students at other alternative schools for young defectors are in much less comfortable circumstances than those at Hangyeore. There is no way to know precisely how many such schools there are due to a lack of official statistics. However, it is known that there are at least seven alternative schools and 26 boarding schools, including Kumkang School and Wooridul School.

Kumkang: A School Where defectors teach Kumkang School in Guro District, southwestern Seoul, is an alternative elementary boarding school operated by Ju Myong-hwa, the principal, who is herself a defector. Ju arrived in South Korea in 2008. In the North she had worked as a literature teacher at a secondary school. All teachers at Kumkang School, which opened in 2013, are women from the North. It cares for 34 students who are entrusted by their parents, their mothers in particular, who are working across the country. The enrollment currently includes 20 in primary school, five in middle school, and nine in alternative school programs. Eighty percent of the students have only a single parent, their mothers.

This school also focuses on offering psychological support pro-

The curriculum at this school is different from that of regular schools.

Above all, many classes are focused on helping students to develop psychological and emotional stability, fit into the South Korean educational system, and improve their ability to adapt to their new life.

A choral performance by students of Wooridul School at “Two-One Festival,” an event in which teenagers from both Koreas participate. All 26 students of this school are studying primary and secondary courses and learning to adapt to a new environment through a variety of social activities, including volunteering.

grams to enable the students to adapt to South Korean society. It helps them heal their psychological wounds, improve their social adaptability, and restore their self-esteem through “color psychology” programs.

The students mainly study primary school subjects, but also participate in a variety of after-class programs. The Hana Music Foundation has donated musical instruments like violins, cellos, and pianos, and even dispatches teachers. As a result, the school’s chorus gave a concert, with a love-of-country theme, this past summer. Ju said, “We offer as many kinds of education experiences as possible, except that we don’t have a science lab.” The school’s computer room has been provided by the Guro District Office.

The school is being helped by many volunteers, including retired elementary school teachers and native English speakers. Samsung Dream Scholarship Foundation and Young’s Corporation are among the school’s key supporters. “We’re making do with our supporters’ help. But the biggest problem is money after all,” Ju said. The school’s annual budget amounts to a mere 150 million won.

Wooridul: An Alternative School for young defectors Wooridul School in Gwanak District, also in southwestern Seoul, is another alternative school for young defectors. It provides prima-

ry and secondary school courses, but most of its students are aged over 20. The school also receives some students from Kumkang School, who study here during the day then return to their boarding school in the evening. Wooridul was founded in 2010 by its principal Yoon Dong-joo, a man in his late 30s who has supported defectors for 18 years since he was still in college. The school was once evicted from a building for teaching young children from the North.

A total of 26 students are currently studying in classrooms on the fourth floor of a small building. The school is so small that it has only a few classrooms, each with only eight to 12 desks. Sometime ago, the school graduated a 28-year-old man from its primary school program. All of the students prepare for equivalency courses. After passing the equivalency tests, they go to higher-level regular schools. The school produced three graduates in 2013, four in 2014, and 12 early this year. Even after graduation, this school continues to offer life-long “after-graduation” education.

Regular classes begin at 9 o’clock in the morning and end at 3:30 in the afternoon. But the students learn arts and physical education and study by themselves until 6 o’clock in the evening. About 30 volunteers are teaching the students; they include five permanent teachers who are in their 40s and 50s, a graduate of Pohang University of Science and Technology, a man who has studied in Germany, and a retired teacher in his 70s.

The school offers free lunch and dinner for needy students. In return, the students make it their duty to participate in volunteer activities. This gives them firsthand exposure to a variety of social and cultural issues and public causes. These include a campaign to help African children, and visits to the village for Hansen’s disease patients on Sorok Island. They have been staging “Two-One Festival,” a combination of a music concert and an art exhibition, for two years now, in order to create an opportunity for students of North and South Korea to get together.

preparing for national Reunification Next year will mark the 10th year of operations of Hangyeore High School. Residents in nearby areas, who were once vehemently opposed to the school, have since become quite supportive. Its graduates consider their alma mater their home. One of the school’s goals is to train students to work for national unification in the future. Kwak Jong-moon, Hangyeore’s principal who has managed the school since its founding, observes: “It seems that achieving unity of language and social integration will be the hardest tasks even after national reunification.”

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In lOvE WItH KOREA

JANG HÜSEYIN

Darcy Paquet Freelance Writer Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

A VOICE FOR GREATER UNDERSTANDING In person, turkish-born Hüseyin Kirdemir, now a naturalized Korean citizen with the name Jang Hüseyin, comes across as a warm-hearted and non-combative personality. If there’s one thing he fights on a daily basis, it is ignorance and misunderstanding. In 2012, after spending years working as a translator, writer and lecturer, Jang launched his own publishing company, Jannah Mumin Books, and is now recognized as one of Korea’s leading voices promoting a deeper understanding of Islam.

S

ome people discover midway through life that their true calling lies on the other side of the globe. Such was the case for Jang Hüseyin, who grew up in the small city of Yozgat in central Turkey before deciding to major in Korean at Ankara University’s School of Foreign Languages. “My father was a soldier in the Turkish military at the time of the Korean War,” he says. “Back then, they only picked the tallest soldiers to send off to fight in Korea, and because he was short, he wasn’t chosen.”

Nonetheless, Jang grew up with a certain awareness and curiosity about East Asia and Korea, which further developed in his adulthood through films and stories about Buddhism and Confucianism. “All of this made me want to go see Korea for myself, to see the country that my father couldn’t go to,” he says.

His Korean language studies progressed quickly, and after graduating in 1994 he was invited to enroll in a nine-month Korean language course at Seoul National University. “For native English speakers, Korean is really difficult. But for Turkish speakers, it’s a lot easier.

The word order in Turkish is exactly the same,” he says. “Of course, I had to work very hard to learn things like Chinese characters and dialect, but I had an easier time than the American students who studied with me.”

After finishing the course, he went on to earn his Master’s Degree, and subsequently enrolled in SNU’s Ph.D. program in Korean language. Sure enough, today he speaks Korean with a fluency that is startling.

Early Impressions of Korea South Korea in the mid-1990s was in some ways very different from what it is now.

“When I first arrived, there weren’t many foreigners in Korea. And if you were a foreigner, people just assumed you were American. ‘Oh, there’s an American,’ they’d say.”

As a Muslim, he found himself a part of a tiny minority that was often misunderstood.

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Jang Hüseyin spends time with his family at the Seoul Central Mosque in Itaewon. From left: Jang Hüseyin, his son Mumin, his daughter Jannah, and his wife Aliyah Eunno Yoon.

“There were Muslims in Korea at that time, but not nearly as many as now. It used to be that when I told my Korean friends I was fasting for Ramadan, they couldn’t understand it. They would think I was on a diet, or I didn’t have enough money to eat.” (Laughs) In the intervening years, he watched as Korea grew noticeably more multicultural. “Now, whenever I go to Itaewon, or the market, I see Muslims everywhere.

When I first arrived, there were only two restaurants in Seoul that served halal food, but now there are so many. In big chain supermarkets you can even find food marked as halal.”

On the other hand, the things that first impressed him about Korean culture remain intact today. “Koreans have so much passion. They pursue their ambitions to the end, never giving up. I really admire that,” he says.

He also describes Koreans as generous and warmhearted. “One day last year I was caught in the rain without an umbrella, and a woman across the street went and got a plastic bag for me, to keep me from getting wet. I was really touched by her generosity to a stranger,” he recalls.

“From a more critical point of view, Koreans tend to judge people too much on their appearance: the clothes that they wear, if they look rich, where they went to university, etc.,” he says. “I wish people wouldn’t be so quick to judge. This tendency hasn’t really changed in all the years I’ve been here.”

Becoming a Voice for Islam Several things happened in the early 2000s that further developed Jang’s relationship with his adopted country. The semifinal match between South Korea and Turkey in the 2002 World Cup made people in both countries more aware of the other country’s culture. Turkey’s contributions during the Korean War, for example, were cited widely in the media.

More ominously, the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 suddenly focused attention on Islam and Middle Eastern countries. This was true not only in the United States, but also in Korea. “The cause is so unfortunate, but after 9/11 many TV programs about Islam and Muslims began to appear in Korea,” says Jang.

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1 Jang Hüseyin reads the Quran in Korean translation.

2 Books in Korean published by Jannah Mumin Books, Jang Hüseyin’s own publishing company established to introduce Islam and Islamic culture.

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“More people began traveling to Islamic countries like Malaysia and Turkey, too, so people’s curiosity and knowledge began to expand.”

It was around this time that he realized that greater knowledge about Islam was needed. “I went to Kyobo Bookstore to look for Korean-language books about Islam, but the works I found were often misleading, or contained incorrect information. Most were written by non-Muslim scholars, and didn’t really capture the diversity or spirit of Islam,” he says.

Outright errors found in many books caused Jang a great deal of frustration.

For example, one high-profile Korean-language book contained information

about zakat, which is the obligation for all Muslims to donate 2.5 percent of their annual income to charitable causes. However, the figure was incorrectly printed as 25 percent. “That sort of mistake is unforgivable, even if it’s unintentional,” says Jang.

“A friend in New York showed me the book ‘Understanding Islam and Muslims.’ It was in a question and answer format, had many photographs, and provided basic information about Islam.” Believing it could be a good introduction to Islam for Koreans, Jang ended up translating the book into Korean. “The first print sold out, and the second, all the way to a sixth print. I realized then that people really wanted to know more.”

Soon friends began suggesting other books for him to translate. To date, he has translated and published over 20 books.

Putting Down Roots in his Adopted Country Meanwhile, another significant change in Jang’s life took place. “Not long after 9/11, I was producing a magazine called ‘Beautiful Islam,’ and a Turkish friend helped me to make a homepage with content from the magazine,” he says. “At the time I was contacted by a Korean woman studying in New York who had become a Muslim. She had been looking for Korean-language information about Islam, and found my website.” Jang and Aliyah Eunno Yoon began a lively email correspondence, and when she returned to Korea after getting her MFA, they met in person. “After just a few meetings, we agreed to marry,” Jang says. “Fate works in unexpected ways. She was just the kind of person I was looking for.” The wedding took place in 2004, and they are now living happily with a daughter, Jannah (9), and a son, Mumin (6).

By the middle of the decade, Jang decided to apply for Korean citizenship. “I know so many people in Korea, but when I go back to Turkey, aside from my family, I don’t have anyone to talk to. I feel like I don’t fit in there. Here I have friends and meaningful work, but what would I do if I went back to Turkey? So I decided to

“The vast majority of Muslims live in peace, and are very warm, open-hearted people. I hope that by publishing books I can help both sides to better understand each other. TV is no way to learn about Islam.”

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stay here permanently.”

The application for citizenship went more smoothly than he expected. “I went in all prepared to take the citizenship exam, but after checking my application they said I didn’t need to take it, since I have a Ph.D. from Seoul National University,” Jang says. “I had even memorized the national anthem, after hearing about an American with excellent Korean who passed everything, but flunked the exam because he couldn’t recite the national anthem.” (Laughs) Ten years later, Jang says he’s never once regretted his decision.

Taking Vocation to the Next Level As time went on, Jang found himself becoming more and more involved in educating people about Islam. From 2005 he worked as publishing and marketing representative at the Seoul Central Mosque, where in addition to translating books he gave lectures, looked after the organization’s website, and worked on a weekly newsletter. But after five and a half years, he decided to focus on his books. “I got so busy, and my translating work kept getting pushed aside, so eventually I decided to resign,” he says.

That led to the launch in 2012 of Jannah Mumin Books (www.jannahmuminbooks.com), named after his two children. Based in Paju, about 10 minutes away from Paju Book City, the company focuses on publishing three kinds of books: works targeted at Muslims living in Korea; books about Islam for children; and books to help the general public better understand Islam.

Some recent publications are “Stories of People Who Have Chosen Islam” (2012), the introductory text “Islam” (2013), “Al-Nawawi Forty Hadiths and Commentary” (2014), and “Answers to Koreans’ 40 Most Common Questions About Islam” (2014). Meanwhile, for children, Jang’s wife Aliyah Eunno Yoon composed the illustrated book “Lost in Istanbul: The Story of Jannah & Mumin” (2013). Sales have been steady, according to Jang, suggesting a sustainable business model.

Others have taken notice of the company’s work. “This August, I was contacted by organizers of the first Halal Expo Korea, who said they thought it essential to include a booth with books about Islam. Then, another Halal expo was held in September, and I participated in that as well. I can feel how much these books are needed,” he says.

Even the Korean government has taken notice.

At the 2014 Iftar Dinner, held to promote exchange between Korea and Islamic cultures, Minister of Foreign Affairs Yun Byung-se mentioned Jang by name in his welcoming remarks.

The Need for Understanding Although precise numbers are hard to obtain, an estimated 130,000 Muslims currently live in Korea. This includes a considerable number of ethnic Koreans as well as people who have relocated from abroad. As Korea continues to become more multicultural, there are both practical and social reasons to become better informed about Islam.

“About a quarter of the world’s population is Muslim,” Jang notes. “So anyone who is serious about doing business abroad really needs to understand something about Muslim culture.”

Jang also argues that Islam contains some useful approaches in addressing social problems and coping with personal difficulties. “Islam can really help in finding positive ways to live your life. And it’s not as restrictive a religion as some people assume.”

Nonetheless, the rise of the Islamic State (widely known as the IS) in the Middle East has in many ways set back the general level of understanding about Islam and Muslim culture. “From media coverage, you get the impression that Islam is a strange or violent religion.

Figures like Osama bin Laden are presented as representatives of Islam. But ordinary Muslims don’t even acknowledge them as members of the religion,” says Jang.

“The vast majority of Muslims live in peace, and are very warm, open-hearted people. I hope that by publishing books I can help both sides to better understand each other. TV is no way to learn about Islam.”

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ON THE ROAD

Gwak Jae-gu Poet Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Sad SongS of Life in the MountainS of YeongwoL and

JeongSeon Hidden deep in the mountains of Yeongwol and Jeongseon, said to be the most remote regions in Korea, are two places of poignant interest: Cheongnyeongpo in Yeongwol, where the sadness of the tragic young king Danjong (r. 1452–1455) remains in the atmosphere; and Auraji in Jeongseon, where the plaintive melodies of “Jeongseon Arirang” echo from valley to valley. Today, there is a casino near Jeongseon and tourists stream to Cheongnyeongpo, but many also come to see the traditional market of Jeongseon, which opens once every five days, longing for the heartwarming ambience of a country town deep in the mountains.

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Jangneung, the tomb of the tragic king Danjong of Joseon in Yeongwol, Gangwon Province, is swathed in the year’s first snow and silence. Deposed and relegated to the status of prince before he was murdered in 1457 at his place of exile, he was posthumously reinstated and named Danjong in 1698, during the reign of King Sukjong, and reburied in a royal tomb befitting his status.

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1 Tourists riding the excursion train named “Arari” take in the beauty of the snow-covered landscape of Jeongseon.

This train, which runs once every five days from Seoul to coincide with the days the Jeongseon market is open, allows visitors to stop off and explore the river at Auraji, the riverside village, and the Jeongseon marketplace.

2 The statue of the girl said to be the heroine of the song “Arirang” stands looking over the river at Auraji. The version of the plaintive folk song handed down in this area tells the sorrowful story of a girl and a boy in love, living on opposite sides of the river, who were unable to meet in summer when the rains made the river rise.

accident site . . . Please don’t grieve over my death; I am going after my wife and son.

Pray for the happiness of our family as we meet again, never to part. It seems that my poor beautiful wife, always modest and devoted, who enriched my meager life, and my son are calling out to me . . . .”

Twenty-five years ago I drove this road to mourn a man I had never met in this life.

The choice made by this 33-year-old man who wanted to be with his wife and child to the very end was infinitely beautiful and heartbreaking. In this life, he was an English teacher and a poet. Here is one of his poems.

The Stars 1

T

he moonlight beams bright on the road.

The full moon is a blessing for the traveler driving through the mountains of Gangwon Province. The moonlight piles up white on the road like salt and all around is silence. The car quietly makes its way up the mountain road, on the way from Yeongwol to Hongcheon via Jeongseon. I first traveled this road one night in October 1990. The moonlight had the texture of fine silk; it seemed to be marred by the glare of headlights. That night I drove slowly along the road with my headlights off, weeping now and then.

The Love and Death of a Poet On September 1, 1990 a bus speeding on the Yeongdong Expressway in the rain fell into the Seom River below. It was a big accident, killing 24 of the 28 people on board. In this disaster, a man named Jang Jae-in lost his wife and son. This man then spent the last two weeks of his life by the riverside, drenched in rain day after day, waiting for the return of his wife and child. At night, he made a campfire that lit up the riverside. Five days after the accident, his wife’s body was found and another eight days later the body of his son was recovered. The campfire that had lit up the riverside for a fortnight died down as well.

“My wife. She came into the life of an unhappy man only to suffer. Like my wife, who they say went back into the river to find our son, I have made up my mind to follow my wife and son. This is the only hope that I had in my heart as I watched the river after arriving at the 64 Koreana winter 2015

Before I knew the stars I knew fullness But after knowing the stars I came to know the emptiness of mind.

Before I knew the stars I knew the abundance of faith But after knowing the stars My eyes opened to the thirst for abundance.

The day the stars came to me My heart was filled with the stars But from that moment I knew the emptiness in a corner of my heart.

Before I knew the stars There were things that I took for peace But after knowing the stars I realized they were whirlpools.

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It can be said that the essence of life lies not on the side of happiness but hides in the rain clouds, unforeseeable and dark. The mountains may be deep and the waters rough, but people willingly breathe life into the barren land.

66 Koreana winter 2015

The Deposed Boy King in Exile Yeongwol is steeped in the stories of a young man with one of the saddest fates in history, King Danjong, the sixth monarch of the Joseon Dynasty. He was born the grandson of King Sejong, creator of the Korean script, Hangeul, but four days after his birth, his mother passed away from complications in childbirth. Sejong deeply loved his grandson. It was said the king used to take walks with the young child riding piggyback. Danjong’s father, King Munjong, was sickly and died just two years after ascending the throne, leaving his 12-year-old son as the heir. The fate of the orphaned young king was harsh. His uncle Prince Suyang, lusting for power, usurped the royal seal from his young nephew and placed himself on the throne in 1455. He ruled until 1468 as King Sejo.

After Danjong was deposed, a secret gathering of loyal subjects began to make moves to reinstate him. They plotted to assassinate Sejo as he greeted Ming officials from China but were betrayed by an informant. To punish those who were involved in the conspiracy, Sejo ordered that they be killed by having their bodies torn apart by carriages; their fathers and sons were also killed. The six officials who died this way came to be lauded later as exemplars of the spirit of seonbi (traditional scholar and intellectual) and were known as sayuksin, the “six martyred loyalists.”

With his title demoted to Prince Nosan, Danjong was exiled to Cheongnyeongpo in Yeongwol County.

This place was also known as Dosan (meaning “knife mountain”), because it was surrounded by water on three sides with a sheer rugged cliff to the rear. It could thus be accessed only by boat. While living in Cheongnyeongpo, the 17-year-old deposed king wrote a poem of longing for his wife, Queen Jeongsun.

Like a resentful bird I left the palace My lonely shadow wanders alone over the blue mountains; Night comes but sleep is far away The years pass but my grief has no end.

King Sejo, who believed his authority would be challenged as long as Danjong remained alive, eventually ordered his nephew to take poison. It is said that Danjong had been continually pressured to kill himself. As he died as a commoner, Danjong was secretly given a simple burial and it was not until two hundred years later, during the reign of King Sukjong, that he was laid to rest in a proper royal grave.

In winter, when the Dong River freezes over, the residents of Yeongwol enjoy a special event. After laying a bridge made of brushwood, they cross the river to the Deokpo riverbank on the other side.

The bridge is made of woven brushwood branches in autumn, when the water level is low, and is left to be swept away by the rising currents the next summer. When snow blankets the mountains around the Dong River, people cross the frozen river on the brushwood bridge. The bridge is a heartwarming, vibrant symbol of the local people’s struggle to overcome life’s hardships. Crossing over the frozen river and returning is a kind of metaphor for human life. Having crossed the makeshift brushwood bridge early in life, the next year will bring one closer to a life that is more stable like a stone bridge.

In the winter when the Dong River begins to freeze over, a brushwood bridge made of loosely woven branches is laid over the water.

A famous seasonal landmark of Jeongseon, the bridge is left to be washed away when the water in the river rises the next summer.

Love Beyond the River From Yeongwol, I arrive in Jeongseon and stop by the Auraji riverside. Auraji is the meeting point of two smaller streams, Songcheon and Goljicheon. The locals think of Songcheon as yang and Goljicheon as yin, such that the meeting of yang and yin creates a positive energy. That’s what the name Auraji means, two coming together to make a harmonious whole.

In the late 19th century when Prince Regent Heungseon, in an effort to revive the waning dynasty, set out to restore Gyeongbok Palace, Auraji played a vital role as a water transportation route. Pinewood logs from handsome trees that grew deep in the mountains were sent down on wooden rafts from Auraji to the Han River and on to Seoul for the construction of palace buildings. Boatmen from all over the country who had gathered there would sing songs as they labored to lift their spirits. One such song, “Arari,” is said to mean, “Who would understand my lot in life and how I feel?” Over time, this song was combined with other versions of “Arari” from the Jeongseon region, resulting in varied lyrics about love Korean Culture & arts 67

and parting, lamentation over one’s fate, and how to get by in the world.

Oh Auraji boatman, take me across the river All the camellia fruits in Sarigol have fallen The fallen flowers are covered in leaves; Every moment this longing for my love is unbearable Arirang, arirang, arario Help me over Arirang Hill.

There were two villages that faced Auraji from each side of the river. A boy and a girl from these villages fell in love with each other. On the excuse of going out to pick camellia fruit, the girl went to the other village to see the boy she loved every day. But in the middle of summer the water in the river rose so high that day after day she was unable to cross over; this song expresses her sorrow. The statue of a girl at Auraji quietly evokes the joys and sorrows of the people of the past who lived their lives along the riverside.

Will it snow or will it rain, or rain for days on end Black clouds are gathering fast over Mt. Mansu; Arirang, arirang, arario Help me over Arirang Hill.

It can be said that the essence of life lies not on the side of happiness but hides in the rain clouds, unforeseeable and dark. The mountains may be deep and the waters rough, but people willingly breathe life into the barren land. “Jeongseon Arirang,” which the locals call “Arari,” is one of the three major versions of Korea’s representative folk song, “Arirang,” along with “Jindo Arirang” and “Miryang Arirang.” In days gone by, common folk sang this song as they endured the ups and downs of their lives; it is gratifying that “Arirang” has come to be recognized as a symbol of Korea and its people.

Simple Table Fare, Blessed with the Mountain Air It’s natural to get hungry when traveling through mountain villages, along a meandering river. Food goes down well thanks to the clean air and the pleasant fragrance of medicinal wild herbs. The local dishes served up in Yeongwol and Jeongseon are justly called the “food of the immortals.” My favorites are rice cooked with gondeure (Korean thistle), sorghum pancakes with red bean filling (susu buk-

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1 At the Arari marketplace in Jeongseon, performers of classical Korean music sing “Jeongseon Arirang.” A range of things to see and do is organized for people who come from all over the country to visit the Jeongseon five-day market.

2 Samtan Art Mine was opened in 2013 after repurposing the facilities of the old Samcheok coal mines, which were closed down in 2001. Aspiring to be an art and culture facility with a story to tell, the museum is making creative efforts to breathe new life into a culturally isolated area.

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kumi), and buckwheat crepes (memil jeonbyeong). As I sat before a crude table in a little restaurant in the mountains that I discovered while roaming the countryside, the scent of wild herbs wafting from the food brings a calming sense of peace. The scent of wildflowers, containing the wind, sunshine, and starlight of the ages, is served up in a bowl of rice.

Sabuk and Gohan, south of Jeongseon, are along the Taebaek railway line. A trip on this railway, which ascends and descends as it makes its way through the mountainous terrain, is especially romantic in winter. Though the area was once a thriving mining town, the mines are now all closed. Seeing the traces of black coal here and there amidst the snow covered mountains is enough to make the trip meaningful.

Entering Sabuk at night with neon lights flashing everywhere, the mining town of Bilbao in Spain comes to mind. When the European branch of New York’s Guggenheim Museum was opened in Bilbao, the town was reborn as a tourist destination. But here, the former mining town of Sabuk has been filled with a casino and pleasure facilities. An art museum and a casino. It would be a lie to say that this stark contrast doesn’t rouse feelings of envy and regret. But it’s a choice that we have made, which could add a line of despair to “Arirang.” This feeling is allayed somewhat by visiting the Samtan Art Mine, an art museum that gives a glimpse into the lives of the miners during the boom times of coal mining.

Then I turn the car eastward. A 30-minute drive and I face the rolling blue waves of the East Sea.

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ALONG THEIR OWN PATH

Dr. Lee Sung-nack, a dermatologist and art historian, earned his Ph.D. in art history last year at the age of 76, with a thesis on portraits of the Joseon Dynasty. Since leaving for Germany at the age of 19 to study medicine, he has led an exemplary professional life. He also had the honor of serving as a presidential physician. But rather than easing into a leisurely retirement, he is entering the second phase of his life with the passion and dedication that one might expect of a young man.

Dr. Lee Sung-nack’s Kang Shin-jae Freelance Writer Shim Byung-woo Photographer

70 Koreana winter 2015

Dermatological Diagnoses of Joseon Portraits

H

is eyes have a profound and mysterious color. I had to look into them carefully again when he started to talk about “seeing.”

“It’s easy to discover the problems of a patient with a fever by taking a blood sample and conducting some tests. But many skin diseases are hard to detect this way. It’s up to the doctor to find the problem with his eyes. In that case, you judge from experience,” he said.

“So as far as the dermatologist is concerned, it’s always true that seeing is believing.”

With eyes that have examined the human skin for some 50 years now, he studied the business card I had just handed him. “I have to check everything with my eyes. I’m not good at memorizing names. I have to see people face to face. My visual memory seems to be well developed,” he said.

His time is ruled by his “vision.” He enjoys literature and art, which he can “see,” rather than music, which he has to “hear.” He is especially attracted to fine art that calls for close examination of planes and spaces.

After settling down in Germany in 1958, he spent the next 20 years seeking out art. Soon after returning to Korea in 1975, his well-trained eye came upon an image that fairly shocked him. “In college I once attended a lecture on ‘skin problems seen in artworks’ by Dr. Alfred Marchionini (1899–1965), a world-renowned German dermatologist. I was surprised at the new perspective he presented. When I saw such a portrait at the National Museum of Korea in Seoul, my heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t believe I’d find such an artwork here....”

Dr. Lee Sung-nack, a dermatologist and art historian, examines a portrait of Oh Myeong-hang of the Joseon period. He says the dark coloring reveals clear signs of smallpox scars and chronic liver cirrhosis.

Joseon-Era Portraits Seen by a Skin Specialist The portrait in question dates back to the early 18th century during the Joseon Dynasty. Though portraits are generally meant to convey the subject’s status and authority, this work unexpectedly revealed the subject’s skin problems. Why would traces of a disease be left on a portrait that should have been the most glorious visual record of the subject’s life? What was it that the subject, a man who seemingly had little interest in appearance, wanted to express with his fiery eyes and intense gaze? “Then, I analyzed 519 portraits from the Joseon period (1392–1910), of which 161 had to be discounted because such diagnosis was not possible. Of the remaining 358 portraits, only about 25 percent, or 90 works, featured subjects with normal facial skin. The others showed all sorts of abnormalities. And some 14 percent showed smallpox scars,” he said.

Starting the interview in this way, Dr. Lee Sung-nack,

honorary president of Gachon University, showed me a thick book. It was his thesis titled “Study of Skin Manifestations on Portraits of the Joseon Dynasty of Korea.”

“Over some 30 years, I had collected a lot of data on portraits and thought it should be put in order. But it was a task that could only be conducted by someone who was well-versed in both dermatology and art, and also had a passion for the endeavor. In the end, I wound up doing it myself.”

Lee graduated from Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich, and completed his specialist training at Goethe University in Frankfurt. He returned home after obtaining a habilitation degree, the highest possible academic qualification. He has taught at Yonsei University and Ajou University for 30 years and also served as head of Gachon University’s School of Medicine from 2004 to 2008.

One by one, Lee presented the many materials he had collected over the years. The paintings, faithful to the Joseon ideal that a portrait must not only depict a person’s physical appearance but also his inner spirit, seemed to manifest the subjects’ life stories. But one work in particular drew keen attention due to its unfamiliar depiction. The portrait of Oh Myeong-hang (1673–1728) with its dark coloring revealed clear signs of illness and even severe smallpox scars. “In many cases, portraits of influential figures were gifts from the king during the Joseon era. When royal court officials reached an advanced age, they would retire and return to their hometowns. When it was known that an official was nearing death, a court artist would be dispatched to his home to paint his portrait. From these portraits we can guess what caused their death. This man looks as if he had severe jaundice, which I presume meant that he suffered from chronic liver cirrhosis,” Lee said.

Photographic Realism Lee has studied 20 skin ailments found in the Joseon-era portraits. In this process he detected 10 rare skin diseases, such as lupus (butterfly-shaped rash from a chronic facial infection) in the portrait of Hong Jik-pil (1776–1852), and frontal linear scleroderma (knife wound-like scarring) in the portrait of Yi Sibang (1594–1660). After a German journal published his thesis on the portrait of Song Chang-myeong (1689– 1769), in which symptoms of vitiligo were identified, the painting was recognized as the world’s first artistic depiction of this chronic skin disease. This not only attests to the accuracy and realism of portraits from the Joseon period, it is also evidence that even people with Korean Culture & arts 71

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©Jeonju National Museum

noticeable facial flaws were appointed to high-level positions. Lee believes this reflects the openness of Joseon society.

Surprisingly, Lee found that the depiction of skin diseases was common only in Korean portraits. “In essence, portraits are intended to show off the privileged status of the subjects. However, many Korean portraits depict traces of skin problems, and even severe scars. No attempts were made to hide such flaws. No such portraits can be found anywhere else in the world,” he said. “In the 17th and 18th centuries, smallpox was rampant in Korea, China, and Japan, but only Korean portraits reveal realistic smallpox scars. A handful of similar paintings are found in China and none at all in Japan. This means that Koreans painted people just as they appeared in real life. This realistic approach and techniques of portrait painting were maintained for the duration of the Joseon Dynasty, which lasted 518 years. This is remarkable.”

An entry from 1668, during the reign of King Sukjong, in “The Diaries of the Royal Secretariat” (inscribed on the UNESCO Memory of the World Register), says: “If there is any difference between the portrait and the actual subject, even a single strand of hair, the painting depicts a different person. It is essential to portray a person precisely as he is.” And to prove this point, the portrait of Seo Jik-su (1735–?) accurately captures three strands of hair growing from a single pore.

The highlight of Joseon portraiture is an image of King Taejo (1335–1408), founder of the dynasty. Close inspection of the portrait reveals a small mole above his right eyebrow. Lee points out that the artist, even working in a period of absolute monarchy, did not overlook the mole on the king’s face. “This suggests there was widespread social consensus on the principle of painting portraits as realistically as possible. It reflects the dominant values of honesty and integrity,” he said.

Throughout the interview, Lee sat ramrod straight and never faltered in his answers. It was hard to believe his age. Is “keep things tight” his philosophy of life? Even flowing water will take a rest

1, 2 This portrait of King Taejo (1335–1408), founder of the Joseon Dynasty, shows a small mole above his right eyebrow. This suggests that Joseon painters adhered to the principle of painting portraits realistically, even those of kings.

3, 4 The portrait of Seo Jik-su (1735–?) was painted by two famous court painters — his face by Yi Myeong-gi and his body by Kim Hong-do.

Signs of a few small liver spots can be seen below his left eye, and a dark pigmented area with hair growth on his left cheek. The painting also vividly depicts multiple strands of hair growing from a single pore.

I looked into his eyes again. There was a profundity in them that has perhaps come from his rigorous inspection of so many portraits over the years, which has enabled him to perceive the spiritual realm of their subjects. Suddenly, I wondered about the depth that his eyes might reach over the rest of his life.

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when it meets a puddle. But it seems there is no insurmountable obstacle along Lee’s path. Prior to beginning his research of Joseon portraits in earnest, he had been appointed physician for three presidents, gained recognition as a world-renowned authority on Behcet’s disease, and served as president of Gachon University.

No Unsurpassable Hurdles Perhaps Lee naturally cultivated an indomitable spirit when he enrolled in medical school in a foreign country at age 19. Asked if he wasn’t afraid of being alone at that time, he quoted an old proverb: “Man can live in any place with a green mountain.” When his first roommate hurled racist abuse at him, Lee got the better of him with his profound knowledge of Beethoven’s music. And when it became known that he had read all 10 volumes of the novel “Jean-Christophe” by Romain Rolland during vacation in his premed years, a professor promised him a full scholarship. These stories attest to his industrious and diligent character, but when recalling his past life, he simply said, “I wouldn’t call myself lazy.”

I looked into his eyes again. There was a profundity in them that has perhaps come from his rigorous inspection of so many portraits over the years, which has enabled him to perceive the spiritual realm of their subjects. Suddenly, I wondered about the depth that his eyes might reach over the rest of his life. The eyes are a “mysterious membrane through which the body meets the world” and a “mirror of health.” They are also a “window through which we see all things in nature and the universe.” Certainly, Dr. Lee’s eyes are more than just eyes.

©National Museum of Korea

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Charles La Shure Professor, Department of Korean Language and Literature, Seoul National University Lee Woo-young Staff Reporter, The Korea Herald

BooKS & More 74 Koreana winter 2015

Insightful Debate on Korea’s Transition toward Ethnic Diversity “Multiethnic Korea? Multiculturalism, Migration, and Peoplehood Diversity in Contemporary South Korea” Edited by John Lie, 344 pages, $25.00, San Francisco: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California, Berkeley (2014)

As with many places around the world, multiculturalism has been a key issue in Korea in the 21st century. The year 2007 saw foreign residents in Korea top the one million mark, and in 2012 the number of foreign nationals who were naturalized as Korean citizens surpassed 100,000. Both of these figures continue to rise, and the nation that once boasted of being “ethnically homogeneous” is now striving to embrace its growing diversity.

In this day and age, when the world is thought of as a “global village” and migration is more pervasive than ever before, it might seem odd — especially to those in countries with diverse populations — for a country to tout ethnic homogeneity as something to be proud of. In fact, this is a relatively modern concept in Korean history. Up to and throughout the Joseon period (1392–1910), claims of homogeneity were nowhere to be found, and ancient records embraced diversity as part of the natural order of things. The founding myth of the Gaya Kingdom, for example, tells how a Korean king married an Indian princess, who bore him twelve children.

The dark period of Japanese colonialism (1910–1945) gave rise to the myth of a “homogeneous people” as Koreans struggled to maintain their national identity in spite of their subordinate position in the Japanese Empire. Even after liberation, though, the myth continued, and only recently has it been reconsidered. Now, with the 21st century well underway, the people of Korea are adjusting to a new reality of diversity, and the government is implementing policy measures to bring Korea into line with global standards of multiculturalism and diversity.

In this new era, “Multiethnic Korea? Multiculturalism, Migration, and Peoplehood Diversity in Contemporary South Korea” offers an insightful look at the progress made so far and the challenges ahead. This first book in the “Transnational Korea” series from the Institute of East Asian Studies at the University of California, Berkeley, brings together the work of 18 researchers in sociology, anthropology, political science, ethnic studies, and other related fields.

An opening chapter by volume editor John Lie delves into the history of multiculturalism in Korea and explains in detail the background of the homogeneity myth and its impact on conceptions of national identity, setting the stage for the ensuing chapters. The rest of the book is divided into three parts: the first part provides an overview of multiculturalism in Korea, including examinations of how the media has responded to the new reality and how multicultural education is carried out in Korea; the second part focuses on specific migrant groups, such as Filipino migrant churches, migrants from North Korea, and Korean adoptees who have returned to the land of their birth; and the third part examines the lives of multicultural or multiethnic people living in Korea today, bringing to light the challenges that they face. Then the concluding chapter compares multiculturalism in Korea with that in neighboring nations.

Although much has been written in Korean on multiculturalism in Korea over the past decade or so, there is a lack of similar scholarship in English.

“Multiethnic Korea?” makes a good start at addressing this lack, identifying the challenges that Korea faces on both the policy and personal levels as the nation moves into an increasingly diverse future. The conversation on multiculturalism cannot be dominated by any one voice, and it is hoped that this volume will inspire and encourage open dialogue between all those involved.

Epic Tale of First Korean Emigrants to Mexico “Black Flower”

By Kim Young-ha, Translated by Charles La Shure, 320 pages, $25.00 (Hardcover), Boston/New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (2012)

This award-winning novel depicts how life unfolded for early Korean emigrants to Mexico at the turn of the 20th century. Inspired by a story about 1,033 Koreans who arrived in Mexico in 1905, which was told by a history scholar to a film director on a flight from Los Angeles to Seoul (The author later hears this story from the film director.), the author builds an epic tale based on this little-known event in Korean history.

When Korea was on the verge of losing its sovereignty to Japan, a group of people from diverse social ranks embark on an arduous voyage to Mexico in search of a new life. They endure the harrowing journey aboard the British ship Ilford, all the while suffering from unsanitary conditions and lack of nutrition. Their experiences on the ship are a prelude to the hardships they are to face in Mexico. As they disembark from the ship, they are soon divided into groups and sent to different farms in the Yucatan. They soon find out they have been sold for slavery work at henequen farms.

They face backbreaking labor, hunger, and a hostile life in Yucatan’s punishing heat.

Some endure the agonizing slavery contract and save enough money to return to Korea, while others try to run away and end up being beaten to death. None of the runaways succeed in returning to their home country. And for those who remained, life takes another turn amid the Mexican revolution.

A Versatile Haegeum Player’s Crossover Collaboration “Beautiful Things in Life”

By Jeong Soo-nyun, 14,900 won, Seoul: Loen Entertainment (Re-release in 2012)

The haegeum player Jeong Soo-nyun has made traditional Korean music, gugak, more accessible to the general public with her remarkable album “Beautiful Things in Life.” First released in 2001, the album has been a bestseller in its field; it features charming works that combine modern New Age melodies and the plaintive sounds of the haegeum, a two-stringed fiddle.

The title track “Beautiful Things in Life” is the bestknown work on the album and perhaps one of the most widely played pieces at classical Korean music concerts. It features a harmonious combination of the piano and haegeum with the humming of a female vocalist.

Jeong Soo-nyun collaborates with diverse musicians, including jazz pianists and gugak composers. Together they present new interpretations of long-beloved traditional folk songs, such as “Arirang” and “The Long Five Hundred Years.” Some other works, like “A Pocheon Story,” present the familiar old style of gugak, delivered in the distinctive soulful melodies of the haegeum.

Online Guide to Seoul City Wall http://seoulcitywall.seoul.go.kr/front/eng/index.do

This English-language website run by the Seoul Metropolitan Government offers a comprehensive guide to the historic Seoul City Wall that surrounds the old center of Korea’s capital. The defensive wall was built in 1396, two years after Yi Seong-gye, founder of the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910), established a new capital in Hanyang, present-day Seoul.

The metropolitan government of Seoul maintains walking trails along the 18.6-kilometer wall, running along the ridges of four mountains — Bugaksan in the north, Naksan in the east, Namsan in the south, and Inwangsan in the west — as well as hills and flat land. The stone wall, some 5 to 8 meters high and featuring defensive facilities at strategic locations, is among the longest existing city walls in the world. An iconic landmark of Seoul, the wall has been placed on the UNESCO World Heritage tentative list.

The website provides detailed information on six different trails, including distances, estimated walking times, opening hours, and historical sites along the trails.

Certain sections of the wall had remained off-limits to citizens after North Korean commandos infiltrated Seoul in 1968, but were reopened to the public in 2007.

Anyone interested can download the city wall tour mobile applications offered for iPhone and Android phone users. Related information is available in Korean, Chinese and Japanese, as well as English.

Korean Culture & arts 75

ENTERTAINMENT

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One-person Media Breaks into Mainstream Broadcasting Kang Myoung-seok Editor-in-Chief, Web Magazine IZE

Thanks to advances in digital media technology, anyone with a basic IT device and Internet access can launch his or her own media broadcasts these days. And at last, with its runaway popularity, one-person media has broken into the mainstream of TV broadcasting. Most of its viewers are young, savvy Internet denizens who are discriminating consumers of popular culture. They rave about the two-way communication offered by this new media format, which is a world apart from the conventional one-way content delivery by radio and television.

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A

udacious change is underway in the television sector, unremarked and unresisted, even as it shows the potential to disrupt the existing business model of network broadcasting. Anyone can now appear on a video broadcast on whatever terms he or she chooses. Anyone can launch a media broadcast venture of his or her own. All this takes are Internet access and a smartphone or PC with a video camera.

In Korea, there is a special website that hosts Internet broadcasts called Afreeca TV. Some broadcasters have become amazingly popular through this website, and just like celebrity entertainers some have even signed contracts with management agencies. YouTubers who upload all sorts of videos on diverse topics, such as beauty, IT and music, are very popular as well. The “Age of One-Person Media” is here; anyone can have their own TV show and even become a star by amassing a sizeable following.

A Foray into Traditional TV MBC TV’s “My Little Television,” a very popular show these days, is a good example of the inroads that oneperson media has made into the conventional broadcasting scene. This show is broadcast online one week ahead of its regular airing on MBC’s terrestrial TV channel. Like the hosts of other one-person media shows, the program hosts strive to attract as many viewers as possible. To this end, famous figures will put on whatever acts that viewers request in real time. A week later, an edited version of the online show is aired on regular TV. Traditional TV has brought this latest media format into its own territory — or, rather, the latter has carved out a niche for itself in the former.

Similar inroads have been made with SBS’s “18 Seconds,” in which cast members upload videos and try to attract as many views as possible, and “Channel So-Si” of OnStyle, where each member of the idol group Girls’ Generation (Sonyeo Sidae) hosts her own show. Watching celebrities working hard to gain approval from view-

As “single media” programming becomes increasingly popular, traditional terrestrial broadcasting companies have started to adopt this new format. The one-person media shows “18 Seconds” (opposite page, left) of SBS and “My Little Television” of MBC have become even more popular thanks to real-time communication between viewers and the shows’ hosts.

ers has proved to be a fresh and appealing concept.

One-person media broadcasts have become popular because the content responds, in real time, to the desires of viewers that are conveyed via phone calls or messaging services. Stars on traditional TV can present entertainment to the viewers, but without necessarily responding to their particular interests or views. In contrast, one-person media shows allow program hosts and viewers to interact directly with each other in real time. It is easy to see how this dynamic works when viewers send messages to the cast of “My Little Television.” It is important to understand the viewer requests and to respond accordingly. Restaurateur Baek Jong-won has gained huge popularity from appearing on this show thanks to his ability to communicate adeptly with viewers. He demonstrates how to cook easy, simple dishes, engaging all the while in casual conversation with the viewers.

Vibrant Dynamism of New Niche Market Not all one-person media hosts are excellent singers or actors like experienced TV stars. However, they do make efforts to respond to their viewers promptly even when requests might seem to be rather out of the ordinary. The celebrities are available for viewers to converse with via smartphone or social media. This is the advantage that has allowed one-person media to grow from a geeky pastime to a promising sector of the entertainment business.

In addition, this trendy media can also venture into areas where traditional TV cannot. Contents shown on TV have mainly been focused on music, drama, and movies. But these days, new content subjects, such as cooking, fashion, and magic, have entered the realm of entertainment and one-person media are well suited for these niche sectors. Popular figures in this media have not earned their fame with professional vocal skills or making viewers laugh with a witty comedy performance. Rather, they have won over the hearts of viewers by critiquing video games, or cooking and eating onscreen good-tasting food, or even giving history lessons. With a plenitude of knowledge being required in today’s world, and with individuals having increasingly varied tastes, there are needs that cannot be addressed by the mass media alone.

This is leading to a generational shift in media as well. For example, “My Little Television” has been successful because the directors of the show are all individuals in their 30s who are very well versed in Internet culture and viewer preferences. They introduce Internet jargon and content that are new to traditional TV. Likewise, those in their teens and 20s now spend much more time consuming Internet broadcasts and content on mobile devices rather than on regular TV. One-person media covers a wide variety of areas that are aligned with the interests of the younger generation, such as game reviews, beauty, and makeup. Some makeup artists have hastily opened their own oneperson media broadcasts upon learning that they are being nudged aside by a popular program shown on YouTube.

This is all a harbinger of dynamism and change. The emergence of oneperson media has been making its mark on the existing giants of broadcasting, while the unique content they deliver provides inspiration for viewers to take up new interests. This is a phenomenon that cannot be easily explained away by marketing effects and changes in technology alone. One-person media reveals how the world we live in is transforming in rapid and unexpected ways.

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GOURMET'S DELIGHT

DONGJI PATJUK Red Bean Porridge for Warmth in Coldest Winter Park Chan-il Chef and Food Columnist Shim Byung-woo Photographer

For many Koreans past middle age, patjuk, or red bean porridge, is a food of memory. During cold winter nights, families would sit around the table in the warmest part of the room, chatting and enjoying the red bean porridge with small rice flour dumplings. At a time when few snacks were readily available, patjuk was a special treat for children. It was also believed to prevent illness and drive evil spirits away from the home — a food that would help to protect a family’s health and happiness.

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T

he images of winter from my childhood are mainly the lucid sunlight, the short days, and the cold north wind that lashed my face. That wind was so sharp I can still describe its harshness. The icy wind felt like it was slicing away the thin skin of my face, so when the sky became cloudy and snow fell, I rather felt warm. Around this time of year, families would cook red bean porridge, as if to announce the long winter’s onset. Many of these families may have looked forward to surviving the winter happily thanks to the magical powers of the porridge. My own family did not maintain the custom of cooking seasonal specialties since my parents were too busy struggling to support us and keep all of us fed. But my mother must have made patjuk sometimes since I vividly recall scooping cold red bean porridge from a pot and warming it to eat on long winter nights.

Warm Red Patjuk and Cool White Radish Kimchi Patjuk is often enjoyed as a sweet dessert these days, but the patjuk of my childhood was a meal eaten with kimchi. Water kimchi, especially cool radish water kimchi, was a perfect match with patjuk.

Sometimes, if the hot porridge burned your palate, blistering the skin, the cool kimchi juice would soothe the pain. I also remember how the adults discussed whether the dumplings should be made of ordinary rice or glutinous rice, probably because glutinous rice was expensive.

These days, families seldom cook red bean porridge at home; it has become a food that you buy to eat. Thus the joy of sharing the warm red bean porridge with neighbors and tasting the different flavors of each family’s version has disappeared. It is now served in restaurants offering pat bingsu (shaved ice with well-boiled and sweetened red beans). It is added to the menu because the pat bingsu sells less in the winter, but the cooking methods and ingredients are nearly identical. Moreover, red bean porridge no longer seems to have anything to do with the seasonal transition of shorter days and colder weather.

Even harder to find nowadays are people who talk about whether the winter weather has been cold or mild enough for the radish water kimchi served with patjuk to ferment properly.

Since olden times, dongji patjuk has been prepared and eaten on the winter solstice. A special seasonal food on dongji, the longest winter night, also called the “little New Year’s day,” the red bean porridge has been handed down with people’s belief that sprinkling some at the gate of a home or at the village entrance wards off misfortune.

‘A Food that Chases Away Evil Spirits’ Whenever I wonder about Korean food, I turn to “Questions and Answers on Common Knowledge in Korea” (Joseon sangsik mundap), written by Choe Nam-seon (1890–1957), a poet and erudite cultural activist. He considered siruddeok (steamed rice cake with red beans) the best kind of Korean rice cake.

It is made by spreading cooked red beans between layers of rice flour, which is then cooked in a steamer. This cake looks quite crude, or even primitive, compared with other types of rice cake. The shape can be easily linked to the siru, the earthenware steamer, which can be found mainly in museums these days. The practice of making rice cakes by carefully kneading and shaping dough and inserting assorted fillings must have developed much later. The simple siruddeok, covered generously with red beans, thus has the feel of a more traditional and uniquely Korean food.

Belief in the red bean’s magical powers is known to have originated in China. The Chinese believed that the color red could drive off evil spirits and ghosts, and this belief was applied to food as well.

The age-old custom of cooking red bean porridge and sprinkling it at the gate of a home or the village entrance is related to the wishes to fend off misfortune.

Although the winter solstice, known as dongji in Korea, marks the beginning of coldest winter, it also signifies winter’s eventual retreat because the year’s shortest day means that the days would thereafter grow longer. In fact, the New Year started on the winter solstice in many ancient calendars. Perhaps, apart from the belief in its magical powers, eating food made of red beans was a symbolic gesture of deriving warmth from the red sun.

From the realistic point of view, the winter solstice was the right time to cook red bean porridge, since it comes up not long after the fall harvest. If people waited until spring to make the porridge, not everyone would have been able to enjoy it. Survival through the long winter would often lead to a depletion of the household’s food reserves, such that saving red beans for the springtime would not have been practical.

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The Origin and the Recipe Trying to trace the origin of patjuk, one arrives at ancient Chinese texts. Jingchu suishiji, a book on seasonal activities and customs in the Jing-Chu region in central China from the Liang Dynasty of the sixth century, briefly mentions a legend about red bean porridge: “The dragon demon called Gong Gong had a son who died on the winter solstice and became a spirit of disease. The son had been afraid of red beans when he was alive, so people cooked red bean porridge at the solstice to ward off this pestilent spirit.” This Chinese tradition was presumably transmitted to Korea, where red bean porridge became a food for warding off all evil spirits.

Red bean porridge is a common dish eaten by people in China, Korea, and Japan. The Chinese hongdouzhou, or hongdoutang, meaning “red bean soup,” is enjoyed all year round: hot in the winter, and cold and sweet in the summer. The Japanese enjoy red bean porridge, called oshiruko, in various ways.

They eat it with mochi, similar to Korean rice flour dumplings, added, and the red beans can also be prepared variously, mashed roughly or ground finely. In Korea as well as Japan, there are two main kinds of red bean porridge, a savory dish with salt added and a dessert sweetened with sugar.

The way that Koreans prepare patjuk has not changed much from earlier times. Old cookbooks, such as Gyuhap chongseo (“Women’s Encyclopedia”), written in the early 19th century, and Buin pilji (“Essential Knowledge for Ladies”), compiled in the early 20th century, contain recipes for patjuk, which are almost identical to the cooking methods of today. Because dried red beans are hard, it has to be boiled with plentiful water, and then mashed and strained to remove the skin. The paste is thinned out by adding water and then boiled with rice. Small rice flour dumplings, called saeal sim (bird eggs), are added while the boiling continues. Making the dumplings is fun, and these are chewy, which adds a bitey texture to the porridge. The inclusion of dumplings also made the cooking of patjuk a family affair; children could join in by making the dumplings, creating a joyful family scene.

“On the winter solstice, one prepared and ate patjuk with honey added, to shake off the evil spirits.”

This is a line from a poem by Yi Saek (1328–1396), also known by his pen name Mogeun, a scholar of the late Goryeo Dynasty. From this, one can infer that the sweet patjuk, which is much enjoyed today, has a longer history than generally thought. However, honey was an expensive ingredient at the time, so not everybody could enjoy it this way. The popularization of sweet red bean porridge is a custom that dates

My own family did not maintain the custom of cooking seasonal specialties since my parents were too busy struggling to support us and keep all of us fed. But my mother must have made patjuk sometimes since I vividly recall scooping cold red bean porridge from a pot and warming it to eat on long winter nights.

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1 Siruddeok (steamed rice cake with red beans) is made by spreading cooked red beans between layers of rice flour, which is then cooked in a steamer. It was long believed that the color red drives off evil spirits.

Hence the cake is still shared with neighbors when one moves to a new place and is most commonly served at traditional feasts.

2 Dongji patjuk is made with red beans boiled, mashed, strained, and simmered with rice and small rice flour dumplings added. There are variants by region: some add both rice and small rice flour dumplings, others add only dumplings.

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from the early 20th century when sugar began to be imported into Korea.

Seoul japhak sajeon (“Dictionary of Seoul Trivia”) written by Cho Pung-yeon (1914–1991), a journalist and writer who documented the customs of Seoul during its early modernization, contains interesting accounts about patjuk. During the Japanese colonial period (1910–1945), there were many patjuk restaurants in the areas around the Dongdaemun (East Gate) Market, and there were also peddlers selling warm red bean porridge going around throughout the town. In the early morning, laborers on their way to work could fill their stomach with it. Patjuk is still sold in traditional markets and remains a favorite comfort food.

As people’s preferences have changed, fewer eateries offer patjuk these days, but the sweet red bean porridge with a generous serving of sugar remains a popular dessert in traditional markets. Although the costs of ingredients are high, one can still make it less expensive by adding more water, so it can survive in the traditional markets. It fits well in such local traditional markets visited mainly by seniors and middle-aged women. But the patjuk found in Busan Market is popular even among younger visitors who have learned about it through blogs, so we can expect the popularity of this age-old dish to endure for the foreseeable future.

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LIFESTYLE

MEN IN APRONS

FALLING IN LOVE WITH COOKING Kim Yong-sub Director, Keen-eyed Imagination Institute for Trend Insight & Business Creativity Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

The year 2015 sees Korean television atwitter with wall-to-wall cooking shows.

Remarkably, the trendiest, hottest figures to ogle on TV nowadays are men who cook! Male celebrity chefs, including global superstars in the culinary world, star in their own cooking shows on TV every day, enthralling audiences. Cooking has become a kind of romantic obsession for many men. Socio-economic trends, such as the growing numbers of dual-income households and nuclear families, are bringing men into the kitchen and transforming gender roles.

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“S

exy men who cook,” or yosengnam, is a new coinage that has come into vogue. This suggests that cooking has become a new trait of masculinity. This is quite surprising. In Korean society, cooking has always been considered work that women do, expected of a mother or wife.

But today, people admire men who can cook, and even think of them as sexy. Of course, men in the kitchen are still far from becoming the norm. And cooking skills aren’t a key attribute of a man’s sex appeal. What seems more important is how considerate he is of his spouse or partner, the care he puts into cooking, and the pleasure he derives from preparing and sharing food with loved ones.

Social Effects of Cooking Shows These days, Korean television is awash in cooking shows. Viewer choices include “Jipbap” (Homecooked Food) on Tuesdays; “Misik” (Dainty Dishes) and “Take Care of My Fridge” on Wednesdays; “Korean Dishes” on Thursdays; “Three Meals a Day” on Fridays; and “A Cook’s Corner” in “My Little Television” on Saturdays.

With cooking shows gaining such widespread popularity, “cheftainers” like Baek Jong-won, Lee Yeon-bok, and Choi Hyun-seok have suddenly emerged as a new crop of celebrities. Appearing on their own programs on different channels, they appeal greatly to television viewers. The actor Cha Seung-won, who is well-known for his cooking talent, has also joined this trend. Cooking tops the list of children’s ambitions, according to news reports.

The forerunners of today’s cooking programs were “Home Cooking” (KBS TV) and “Dishes for Today” (MBC TV), which catered to housewives with cooking demonstrations and helpful tips in the 1980s. These programs were typically hosted by female chefs assisted by female celebrity guests. In the 1990s, celebs prepared their favorite “midnight snacks” on “Cham Cham Cham,” a regular feature of SBS TV’s “Lee Hong-ryeol Show,” a cooking and talk show combination. This opened the door for cooking to become entertainment fare. Until the 2000s, however, most TV shows introduced wellknown gourmet restaurants or staged cooking competitions. Since the early 2010s, cooking channels have emerged and a variety of programs featuring chefs have enjoyed steady gains in viewers.

More recently, “cheftainer” shows drawing on the star power of celebrity chefs have taken center stage.

These days, cooking shows feature chefs and their guests cooking and enjoying food together.

Casual conversation is part of the routine, broadening their appeal to viewers. These programs introduce very easy and simple cooking techniques. This makes even men, who believed that cooking was for experts, or moms and wives, have come to think that they too can take a stab at cooking.

Not Necessarily Wannabe Chefs In the past, a large majority of the men who turned to cooking sought to earn a diploma in order to become a professional chef. But now, cooking has become a man’s hobby and part of their everyday routine. Many men have learned to cook with ease thanks to the simple recipes they can find on the Internet. Cookbooks for men can be easily found at bookstores.

Men make up 20 to 30 percent of students at the cooking classes offered by the cultural centers of major department stores these days. This represents a sharp increase from an average of about 5 percent just a few years ago. A growing number of men are spending time and money learning how to cook Korean or Italian home food, far more ambitious than knowing how to prepare instant ramen. Currently, the majority of men learning how to cook are 20- and 30-somethings, while the number of those in their 40s and 50s is steadily increasing as well.

There is also a growing number of cooking classes targeting men. Food companies and local municipalities are opening men-only cooking classes to gain a foothold in a new niche market for their products and to endorse the evolving gender roles and family relationships. In the past, mothers kept their male family members from even coming near the kitchen. But today, many mothers Korean Culture & arts 83

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Cooking is no longer regarded as strictly women’s work. It has begun to be seen as work that both men and women can do as they derive mutual pleasure from sharing the chore and its delicious rewards.

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1, 2 Participants learn how to cook in a “party foods cooking class for men who cook,” sponsored by a food and beverage company (http:// www.cj.co.kr/cj-kr/participation/ cookingclasses). There has been a remarkable surge in the number of cooking men recently thanks to changes in lifestyle and people's views of cooking.

3 KBS TV producer Lee Wook-jung, known as a “cooking PD,” prepares a meal during a show. Lee has attracted a large following due to his cooking documentaries, such as “Noodle Road” and “Food Odyssey.”

consider their sons cooking at home quite natural. This phenomenon has been brought about by socio-economic changes, including a widespread sense of gender equality and growing numbers of dual-income households and nuclear families. Another major reason why many more men are found in the kitchen is that single-person households are increasingly common nowadays. Amid the growth in the number of men in aprons, their cooking skills have also shown much improvement.

Men outnumber women participants in “Master Chef Korea,” a cooking audition program of Olive TV, a lifestyle/food channel.

More food and home appliance ads feature young male celebs working in the kitchen. And audiences accept them as natural. For a large number of men, cooking has become not simply an option, but a necessity. In these rapidly changing times, the words to the wise that bind society have changed accordingly, from “lovely moms and their delicious home-cooked food” to “sexy men who cook and delicious foods dads cooked.”

Evolving Paradigm A nuclear dual-income family living in an apartment is a quintessential element of contemporary Korean society. Under these circumstances, married couples who share housework are becoming the new norm. Generally, the older generation retains traditional gender roles; housewives do almost all the housework in families headed by men in their 40s and older. But young men in their 20s and 30s are doing their share of housework much more actively than the older generations. This is also true of home cooking. Husbands who cook for their wives and dads who cook for their kids are no longer an oddity. Besides, many families eat out due to the busy schedules of parents who both work. The recent surge in television’s “cheftainer” shows beckoning men to the kitchen and stimulating the craze for home cooking also means that more families are again gathering around the dinner table at home, building up love for one another.

Nonetheless, there still remains one rather lamentable aspect. Until recently, everybody thought it was natural for women to do the cooking but rarely has anyone expressed thanks to them in earnest. While people wax nostalgic for the homecooked food of their childhood and youth, rarely has praise been lavished on women for quietly taking on the job of cooking for their families. Now, many people have come to consider cooking an admirable and attractive activity since cooking men came into the limelight. This reveals another slice of gender bias that remains prevalent in Korean society.

Cooking is no longer regarded as strictly women’s work. It has begun to be seen as work that both men and women can do as they derive mutual pleasure from sharing the chore and its delicious rewards. It looks likely this trend will continue 3 for a while.

Korean Culture & arts 85

JOURNEYS IN KOREAN LITERATURE

CRITIQUE

A Sun that Never Sets A Longing that Never Fades Cho Yong-ho Novelist; Literature Reporter, The Segye Times Paik Soo-jang Photographer

i

The novelist Kim Chae-won adeptly expresses her profound insights on life through lyrical and pictorial prose. The writer’s inner anxiety and loneliness are well conveyed in her story “Over the West Mountain.” The writer herself has said that regret is the recurring motif of “Rowboat Song,” her latest collection of short stories which includes this work. Commenting on her approach to writing, she says: “As I’m always sitting at home, my windows become a window to the world . . . for me writing fiction is about writing the world I know, and I come to write the world through that window.”

86 Koreana winter 2015

f you mix together the three vibrant primary colors — red, yellow and blue — you end up with a murky black void. Having studied fine arts in college, novelist Kim Chae-won has expressed this phenomenon in her fiction. “If you combine many colors, in the end your own hue succumbs to the mixture and turns black,” she observes in the short story “Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue?” which is also included in “Rowboat Song,” her first book in eleven years.

Kim Chae-won was born in 1946, the second daughter of the poet Kim Donghwan and the novelist Choi Jung-hee.

During the Korean War her father was abducted to the North and the time and circumstances of his death are unknown.

After studying art at Ewha Womans University, she got her short story “Night Greeting” published in the monthly literary journal Hyundae Munhak in 1975, marking her debut as a writer. In 1989, her novella “Winter Fantasy“ earned the Yi Sang Literary Award, one of Korea’s most prestigious prizes for fiction, and the literary talent that ran in the family was again confirmed when Kim’s older sister, Kim Ji-won, won the same award eight years later. Kim Chaewon’s latest collection is a tribute to her sister, who passed away three years ago and whose influence permeates the book.

Indeed, she is the model for the cousin character who emigrated to America as a young woman in “Over the West Mountain.”

In the story, the narrator and her cousin grew up in the same house and spent long nights together playing games of fantasy and imagination. The narrator’s cousin lost

her mother and siblings in the bombardments of the Korean War and the narrator too lost her father in the conflict, so they are in a similar situation, and share a similar emotional predisposition. In reality the story of these girls who shared the same parents is about the writer and her sister, but the cousin character is presented as being somewhat more disadvantaged.

Having emigrated to America this cousin doesn’t return to Korea even once. The narrator has never traveled outside her homeland. For years on end the two women merely have long phone conversations and exchange gift parcels. To the very end they do not get to meet face to face.

After her husband’s untimely death, the narrator’s cousin in America works at all kinds of stores, from a vegetable store to a clothing shop and then a hamburger joint, while raising her two children. At work she is accosted by armed robbers on two occasions, and both times she survives, having pleaded with them not to kill her for the sake of her two young children. According to rumors, she was raped on both occasions. Following the 9/11 terrorist attacks in New York, the narrator calls her cousin more often to see how she is doing. In the process the narrator says that surprisingly she feels she has “come to know nothing” about her cousin, but “compared to the time before that, something had stuck.”

One day she can no longer get through to her cousin.

Around the time when she entered elementary school, the narrator’s cousin wrote a simple poem: “The evening sun

goes over the west mountain / Waving I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” While the cousin disappears into silence far beyond the west mountain, the narrator realizes a “truth” as though it were some new discovery: that the sun never really sets while she is sleeping; that sun goes over the west mountain to shine down on her cousin. As long as that sun does not set, even if her cousin has passed away in a distant, foreign land, to the narrator she still lives on in her emotional world.

Kim Chae-won’s works have been heralded as creating “lyrical paintings” through her vivid narratives. Through her penetrating contemplations on life, Kim displays her gift for portraying objects, people, and the world with her own unique palette of colors. As the title story of the collection, “Rowboat Song” represents a microcosm of Kim Chae-won’s literary world. This story, with a strong ambience of autobiographical reminiscence, gives a full, lyrical account of regrets of the years that passed across the stage of the family home in the author’s childhood and adolescence.

At the center of the story are the house, a mother who is raising her children alone, and the children themselves — a brother, a hopeless romantic, and his younger sisters.

The writer introduces the house, which now exists as a mere notion, as a “rowboat” adrift on the stream of time past which she longs to capture. The story begins with a subdued whisper: “Did that boat make it across the night?”

“The night was so deep it seemed it would be too distant to cross, an unfathom-

able darkness, the ferocious wind striking the yard, the gate, the well, the tops of the trees, the roof, the walls, and tearing the air into pieces in frenzy. An empty crock smashing as it is blown over, the clatter of an aluminum lid which had been set atop a large stoneware pot rolling about, the rushing rustle of fallen leaves being swept one way and then another . . . .”

A sensitive youth who plays the accordion and loves movies, the brother is not very good at adapting to reality. For his sisters he is a sentimental being, but in the eyes of his mother, who is often brought to tears in frustration, he is an unbearably feeble heir to the family line. The brother has a relationship with a beautiful woman but is left heartbroken when her family rejects him, at which point he turns to drink and then before long he passes away. In order to earn a living for her family the mother silently leaves each morning on the first train, creeping back in late at night. Those painful yet longed for bygone days cannot return. Might they reappear as a notion in the “rowboat” of reminiscence? The writer paints the last poetic sentences of the story with the brush of unbearable longing.

“If that boat crosses over the night to me . . . If that boat of childhood which departed trembling with fear, comes to me across the deep night . . . Would that a gentle strand of wind could sound a melody, one which would not wake a baby sleeping in the shade of a tree . . . On some spring day not yet past . . . .”

Korean Culture & arts 87

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