Koreana Summer 1994 (English)

It's More Than a Pretty Lobby

Think of Hotel Lotte's lobby as the dynamic hub of downtown Seoul.

In a simply unbeatable location that businessmen best appreciate.

And we offer the business traveler even more: 8 executive floors, each staffed by bilingual assistants and equipped with all the office machines and reference materials needed to get down to business.

To keep you at your peak, we offer no less than 23 restaurants and bars. For a no less refreshing experience, drop by the health club, fabled as the Orient's most luxurious.

To save more of your precious time, we offer unbounded shopping opportunities next door, including the 10-floor Lotte Department Store and the Lotte Duty Free Shop Asia's largest.

Lotte: We put enjoyment into business travel Member in Seoul, Korea

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BEAUTY OF KOREA

TORTOISE CUSHION 105 em in diameter, National Folk Museum

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When a Buddhist monk meditates, his mind transcends the present-back to a previous life, on to a future life, tens of thousands of years away-but his body remains in the here and now ... on a comfortable rush cushion.

This tortoise cushion is typical of the cushions used by monks during meditation, but such cushions are not used exclusively for meditation. Made with techniques dating to the Chason Kingdom (1392- 1910), the cushion epitomizes t~e beauty of Chason rush handicrafts. Such cushions wc;re made from a variety of materials-paper, mulberry trees, cedar bark, mulberry paper, sedge-which were twisted into long strands and woven into beautiful designs depicting tortoises, carp, lotus flowers and other

propitious symbols.

The tortoise on this cushion represents long life, the pair of ducks marital bliss, the carp success, the crab and shrimp fidelity, and the lotus flower peace . .The white and brown used in the cushion create a rustic beauty so natural one half expects the animals to leap from the cushion. The brown is rush strands dyed with the fruit of the alder tree, while the white is rush strands left their natural color. A similar cushion, woven by a Buddhist monk more than 200 years ago, can be seen at Sonamsa Temple in Sungju, Chollanam-do Province. The cushion shown here was made in 1987, using traditional techniques. It won the Presidential Award in the annual National Handicrafts Competition. +

(From Choi Sung-ja's. Lines, Colors and Shapes-The Korean Tradition (Hangukili mi ),Jishiksan6psa: Seoul, 1993)

KOREAN ART 8c CULTURE

c

COVER

It may resemble a burst of fireworks or an abstract painting, but our 0 cover this issue actually shows strips of bamboo being woven into the col- N ored baskets, or ch'aesang, of Tamyang in southwestern Korea. The bamboo T is split into thin strips, which are dyed in naturat pigments and careful- E ly woven into various patterns, including geometric designs and the N Chinese characters for long life or good health.

Renowned for their bril- T liant colors and complex weaving, ch'aesang are usually made of two parts- a container and a lid- and are often produced in sets of three or five. A cherished addition to any young wornan's dowry, ch'aesang are used to hold everything from needles and thread to large winter garments.

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SUMMERTIME HAND I CRAFTS: A Legacy Born of Taste and Necessity 6 SUMMERTIME HANDICRAFTS Traditional Artistry in Everyday Life

by Choi Ha-rim

16 A History of

KOREAN HANDICRAFTS

by Kim Chong-tae

THE SPIRIT BEHIND THE ARTISAN

24 BAMBOO AND ITS MANY USES

by Im Youngjoo

Pyrography: The Art of Scorched Pictures

32

Kuk Yang-mun & Kim Ki-chan

Lonely Heirs to a Vanishing Art

by Lee Kyang-bee

38 ON THE ROAD

A Visit to Kanghwado A Voyage Through the Turbulent Seas of History

by Kim joo·young

46 SEOUL 600

KYONGBOKKUNG Symbol of Korean Sovereignty

by Kim Bongryol

•

Korea Foundation ~.i!·Pl'

JOURNEYS IN KOREAN U1ERA1URE

. KuSang

Vol. 8, No. 2, Summer 1994

_ t \(U Sang tbe poet'J .:ence and E1emi'Y Consonance o by

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K'tn Bong-goon l

en poems o

XI f Ku Sang

67 fus'Bench-

sev 1f • ChriStopher's River •Fr,om ~:e trUe appearance •Myse .

1n all p1aces ictJean s soliloquY • i With wild flowers Co V n d poems • h word .wastelan oft elated by Brother Antbony Trans

KOREAN A Published quarterly by The Korea Foundation 526 Namdaemunno 5-ga, Chung-gu, Seoull00-095, Korea PUBLISHER-EDITOR

SON Chu-Whan EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Hong Soon-il ART DIRECTOR

54 SEOUL'S ANCIENT BRIDGES Spanning the Waters and the Centuries

by Ban Young-hwan

58 INTERVIEW

Kim So-hi and Pak Tong-jin P'ansori as a Way of Life by julie Pickering

72 KOREAN ARTISTS ABROAD

SARAH CHANG AWonder That Goes Beyond Wunderkind

by Kim Yong-woon

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SOYBEANS

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Bamboo Blinds Imagine a summer afternoon in the outer reception room of the men's quarters of a traditional Korean house. The doors are wide open. You fan yourself leisurely and gaze through the slats of the thin bamboo blind hanging from the door frame. The leaves outside look so cool, so refreshing, that a poem comes to mind. That poetic inspiration may be intrinsic to the trees and plants, but somehow the blind enhances all that is seen through it. It shelters us from the heat and creates ~ m atmosphere of enlightenment and reflection.

Imagine gazing through the same sarngb~the

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blind to see a woman in a hanbok of crisp white ramie strolling quietly through the courtyard. It doesn't matter whether she is beautiful or kind.

You are simply captivated by the cool, crisp image filtered through the bamboo blind. An orchid or strangely shaped stone is no different. When viewed through a bamboo blind, they are transformed. Through a bamboo blind, everything is transformed into a form of harmonious beauty. No wonder bamboo curtains have been a theme in so many songs and poems throughout history.

Consider this line from "Spring in Loyang," a song performed during traditional court rituals.

I rest behind an embroidered bamboo curtain Willow cotton floats lightly on the wind.

Yi Kok (1298-1351), a scholar from the late Kory6 period, created a similar atmosphere in one of his poems.

When I awoke in that thatched cottage, the flower blossoms were falling leisurely.

Pushing aside the bamboo curtain I found I was surrounded by mountains.

The doors of traditional Korean

homes are left open in the summertime. While this cools the home, it doesn't allow for much privacy. Kore· ans make up for this by hanging bamboo blinds in their door frames. The blinds shield their household from prying eyes, while at the same time allowing the residents to see out in the daytime. This may be why the blinds are always hung inside the door frame instead of outside.

Interesting by-products of this tradition are the Chinese character expressions "inside the blind" (y6mnae) and "in front of the curtain" (y6mj6n), which refer to the exclusive domain of the royal chamber. This concept dates back to the Three Kingdoms

government. Factional struggles result· (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms) ed in the premature death of many includes the term "in front of the cur- kings, however, and when their young tain" in its account of Pak Che-sang, a sons or nephews were enthroned, the loyal Shilla retainer who was ordered queen dowager often watched over to rescue the king 's son from his state affairs from a curtained chamber Koguryo kidnappers. The term yam- behind the throne.

Clearly, hanging curtains or blinds jon sumy6ng used in this account refers to a direct royal order. Similarly, had many uses and meanings. The the term sury6m ch'6ngj6ng, literally virtue of Chason era ladies was guardmeaning "to govern by listening ed by curtains hung over the openings through a hanging curtain," refers to in their sedan chairs. The writing im· rule by a queen consort when the king plements of the great scholar-officials was too young to govern on his own. were carefully wrapped in small bam· The Chason Kingdom (1392- 1910) had boo mats. Modern Koreans still hang bamboo blinds to an unwritten rule prohibiting women Bamboo blinds not only block the block the sun in sumfrom participating in sun, they also enhance the atmos- mer and, in coastal ar· phere of the eas, bamboo screens Korean home have long been used in summer. to dry seaweed, and fish traps are · made from bamboo lattices.

Bamboo blinds and mats have been a staple of everyday Korean life since the Chason period. However, they seem to have been monopolized by the aristocratic class during the Koryo period (918 - 1392). In his geographical study of the Koryo Kingdom, Xu Jing, an envoy from the Song Chinese court, noted elegant curtains in the homes of senior statesmen but none in the homes of the common people. This suggests that these blinds were originally a pretense borrowed from the Chinese, rather than a practical necessity used to block the sun. Koreans of that period saw China as the fountainhead of aris· tocratic culture.

This does not mean that Chinese and Korean blinds and curtains are identical in use or design, however. The embroi· dered blinds and beaded curtains intra· duced from China were simplified by Koreans to fit their own cultural traits.

Bamboo blinds are a fine example of the Korean people's adaptation of an idea that was originally Chinese.

The finest bamboo blinds are made of thread-like bamboo strips. A special bamboo, known as shinudae or shik· dae, is used because it is especially tenperiod (57B.C. - A.D.935). Samguk yusa

der and does not break in the splitting process. It is also remarkably even in breadth from top to bottom, providing a sense of balance and facilitating the weaving-in of designs. Common bamboo (ch'amdae) is known for its sturdiness but it is difficult to cut and its joints are thick. This reveals an important characteristic of traditional Korean handicrafts: materials are chosen less for their artistic qualities than for their ability to satisfy everyday needs. As a result, handicraft centers have naturally developed in the areas where raw materials are produced.

Tamyang-gun County in Ch6llanamdo Province is famous for the produc.tion of all kinds of bamboo products, especially bamboo blinds and floor

mats. In fact, all the talented bamboo artisans come from this area.

According to Kim Tu-ok, a bamboo curtain craftsman from Inam-ri in Tamyang-gun, it takes ten days to make one curtain. First he cuts the bamboo into even lengths. Then he divides the core from the outer layer and splits the outer layer into hundreds of thin strips. These strips are pulled through a small hole five times to guarantee uniform thickness and flexibility. They are then woven into curtains on standing looms. Once the weaving is finished, the craftsman trims the ends of the bamboo strips and applies a colorful fabric braid around the edge.

An artisan weaving a bamboo blind (above), and bamboo being prepared for weaving (below).

10

Sedge Mats Pass through a bamboo curtain and you are sure to find a hwamuns6k, a sedge mat, covering the floor inside. Indeed, summer in the traditional sarangbang wouldn't be complete without a hwamuns6k. The image of the master of the house clad in a ramie banbok and resting on a smooth hwamuns6k is synonymous with the Korean word for "refreshing," shiwonhada. Shiwonhada could be called an aesthetic characteristic born of the Korean physical constitution. Perhaps this is why the hwamuns6k has always symbolized mot, a traditional concept which can be roughly translated as a kind of stylistic flair or insight. The refreshing sensation of lying on a hwamuns6k during the dog days of summer cannot be experienced outside the context of the Korean aesthetic consciousness and feelings which have been handed down from generation to generation. That sensation, that uniquely Korean sense

of beauty found in the hwamuns6k, seems to be born of the unique qualities of the sedge, which absorbs humidity without mildewing or rotting, thus the mats remain clean and fresh after years of use. ยง The Korean people have always sat ~ and slept on the floor. Floor coverings u \f were essential to everyday life in traditional Korea. Today one must go deep into the countryside to find houses with dirt floors covered with mats or laminated paper, but such dwellings were quite common prior to the Korean War. In earliest times, simple mats were made by binding reeds together.

Technology developed over time, and soon sedge and rushes were woven inLO.;.;...;._ _ _ __ _ ..:::=== =::::l ~ to mats edged with fabric. Later, the hwamuns6k with their gorgeous deHwamunsok, traditional sedge mats, signs were made for use in summer. are indispensable in summer in Kanghwado Island is synon'y mous Korean houses. hwamuns6k today, but this was with (See pp. 44-45 for more on hwamunsok.) not always the case. According to administrative records from the late Chason period, Andong in Kyongsang-

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11

buk-do Province and Paech'on in Hwanghae-do Province, now in North Korea, produced the finest hwamuns6k. Kanghwado was third in importance. Andong was especially famous for its five-color och'aeyongs6k (literally "five-color dragon mats") which were sent as tribute to the Choson kings.

During this period, Seoulites of noble birth used only mats from the Andong or Paech'on areas. However, the division of the Korean Peninsula and environmental changes have contributed to the growing popularity of Kanghwado hwamuns6k in recent decades.

Kanghwado is definitely the place to go for hwamuns6k today. Sedge (wanggo{), an annual with remarkably smooth and shiny stalks, grows all over the island. The skin is peeled off the stalks with a small knife, dyed nine different colors, then soaked in clean water. The softened strands are woven into mats on a large loom.

Hwamuns6k weaving is a complicated process requiring many hands. For the smaller mats measuring 1~ 1.5 meters across, two people are required. A 1.5~ 2.4 meter mat requires three weavers, a 2.4 ~3 meter mat, four, and a 3 ~3 .6 meter mat, six. One mat

usually takes five days to weave.

Hwamuns6k come in a variety of designs. Some are decorated with the double happiness character, others with pine trees, magpies or cats.

In traditional Korea, scholars and men of noble birth spent many pleasant hours on their hwamuns6k. By the middle of the Choson period, the demand for the mats among scholars and officials was so great that 271 artisans were assigned to the Seoul crafts office, 8 to the Kyonggi-do crafts office and 28 each to the Ch6lla-do and Ch'ungch'ong-do crafts offices.

The hwamuns6k of today differ from the hwamuns6k of the midChoson period, however. During the Choson period the mats were made of ch'amgol, a variety of sedge that is more durable than the sedge used now, and their edges were bound with fabric strips. Today, hwamuns6k are made from the outer layer of sedge grass, and the decorative designs have changed to suit modern tastes. Today it is not uncommon to find abstract geometric designs which better reflect the lifestyle of the modern Korean.

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a folding paper fan from the Chonju area.

A gentleman of leisure, gazing through a bamboo blind into the courtyard as he lounges on a sedge mat, would never be without a fan. Indeed, fans have always been a staple of Korean summer life, for both practical and stylistic reasons.

Fans have many uses. In traditional Korea, scholar-officials used fans to symbolize dignity. Court ladies used them to cover their faces when they encountered men outside court chambers.

In the wedding procession following a traditional marriage ceremony, the groom always carried a blue fan. The women in a mountain village in Kyongsan, Kyongsangbuk-do still sing an old tavern girl's song lamenting the marriage of one of her favorite customers.

There goes the blue fan Gazing at the flower as he passes.

Flower, flower, don't be sad!

He'll be back next spring

(1758

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Hapchukson,

Fans

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In a painting by Shin Yun-bok ~?), one of the foremost genre painters of the Choson period, a scholar-official is shown leering over the

top of his fan at a woman bathing in a stream. The painting shows the importance that the Chos6n people placed on saving face- that is on not allowing others to see one's bad side-and on their need for something to occupy their hands at all times.

It wasn't uncommon for artists to paint pictures on fans. Most of these paintings have a refreshing aura, no doubt a reflection of the fans' function. They most often depict waterfalls, snow-covered mountains, flowers and birds, orchids, pine trees and bamboo.

There are many different types of fans-round fans decorated with the yin-yang figure, leafshaped fans resembling plantain or paulownia leaves, lotus flowershaped fans, "five-color" fans emblazoned with the five primary colors, and fans made of pheasant feathers. The woven bamboo p'ald6ks6n, "fan Fans have been used for of eight virtues," earned its a variety of purposes, including stage props, name because it is SO throughout Korean history. strong and inexpensive it can be used as a floor cushion or be pecially wide is called kwangby6ns6n placed inside the clothing to create a lay- (broad fan) and a relatively narrow fan is called hy6ppy6ns6n (narrow fan). er of cool air next to the wearer's body.

Oil paper fans are called yus6n (oil Most people would agree, however, fans), and fans with pictures painted on that hapchuks6n, the folding paper fans of the Ch6nju area, are the finest of Ko- them hwas6n (picture fans). The fans rea's traditional fans. Indeed, hapchuk- used by shamans go by a number of s6n has become synonymous with different names: ilwols6n (sun and "folding fan." There are many different moon fan), sarnbuls6n (three Buddhas kinds of bapchuks6n, however. For ex- fan), p'als6nny6s6n (eight fairies fan), ample, a fan with more than fifty bam- etc. There are even folding fans that boo ribs is called taes6n (large fan), and open into full circles (yuns6n). These a fan with thirty or less ribs is called are quite rare, though.

During the Chos6n period, fans were sos6n (small fan). A fan that opens es-

a popular gift during the Tano festival held on the fifth day of the fifth month of the lunar calendar. Provincial governors in the Ch6lla and Ky6ngsang regions, famous for their fans, sent the finest quality fans as tribute to the king who then presented them to his courtiers.

This custom spread beyond the palace, and soon it was common for people, especiaily in-laws or neighbors, to exchange gifts of fans in springtime. This custom lives on today. Over 10 million fans are produced in the months of May and June. Approximately 2 million folding fans are produced in the Ch6nju area, and around 4 million round fans decorated with the yin-yang design are "' made in the Namwon area ~ each year. Kanggy6ng in ~ Ch'ungch'6ngnam-do and 1f Miryang in Ky6ngsangnam-do are also known for their fans, although they account for a relatively small share of the total. Fan production is concentrated in the Ch6nju-Namwon area because of the high quality of the bamboo there.

Bamboo from the area is more flexible than that from other areas. Folding fans can only be made of bamboo cut between September and February when there are no insects and the bamboo is in top condition.

Fan-making is painstaking work.

First, there is the preparation of the bamboo-planing, bleaching with lye, cutting-then the arrangement of the ribs, the application of fishglue and paper, and the setting of the pivot in silver or nickel. Some fans are painted with lacquer or oil and set to dry for three additional days. The whole process takes approximately three months.

References to fans can be found 13

throughout Korean history. According to the Samguk sagi (History of the Three Kingdoms), Wang Kon, the founder of the Koryo Kingdom, was given a gift of a pheasant fan from his rival Kyonhwan on the occasion of his enthronement. The Choson poet Im Che (1549-1587) is said to have expressed his passionate love for Hwang Chin-i, a professional entertainer and talented poet in her own right, with a poem written on a fan.

The quality of Korean fans was recognized by both the Chinese and Japanese people .during this period.

Historical records indicate the Choson court presented the Ming court with 100 white fans in 1410 and 103 folding fans in 1468. During the reign of Kwanghaegun (1609-1623), 224 white fans and 1,830 oil fans were sent to the Qing court. Choson court records also refer to the exchange of fans between the Korean and Japanese courts.

Bamboo Wives "Bamboo wives" (chukpuin) came into use during the mid-Koryo period. A "bamboo wife" consists of a woven bamboo tube approximately 132 centimeters long which is wrapped in a piece of hemp cloth and held next to the body during sweltering summer nights. The hollow tube allows a cool breeze to pass under the blanket. A "bamboo wife" is made of strips of bamboo bent over the heat of a charcoal fire. After the tube is woven, the bamboo is allowed to darken over the fire once more, then polished smooth with ground beans.

There must be no sharp corners or

Bamboo wife

14

Ramie & Hemp

splinters because the "bamboo wife" is held close to a gentleman's body as he sleeps. Generally, the man lies on his side, embracing the "bamboo wife" with one leg slung over the top of the tube.

Not only does he sleep as comfortably as if he were embracing his lover, he also is cooled by the breeze passing through the bamboo tube.

It has long been the custom for a filial son to ¡ provide his father with a "bamboo wife." For obvious reasons, it would be a serious breach of etiquette for a son to use his father's "bamboo wife."

Yi Kok, a writer during the late Koryo period, wrote a novel entitled The Barriboo Wife. It is a tale of a scholar's daughter who loses her husband and spends the rest of her life as a "virtuous widow." In this novel, bamboo symbolizes the Neo-Confucian ideal of female chastity.

Bamboo blinds, sedge mats, "bamboo wives" and fans are just a few examples of Korea's summer handicrafts.

A Korean summer wouldn't be complete without the thin white ramie or golden hemp apparel so many people wear to stay cool when the mercury hits 30 degrees Centigrade or above.

Ramie and hemp may be woven in autumn, but they are vital summer wear for Koreans. There is no reason why hemp or ramie clothing has to be so thin and airy. The two could be spun into thicker threads and made into winter clothes, but Koreans have always worn them in summer.

Clearly, Korea's fashion and dietary cultures have developed in their own unique manner, as have other cultures around the world. While it is difficult to condense Korea's summer culture into a single phrase, one could say that Koreans long for a quiet, leisurely atmosphere in summer-a "light, solitary beauty," to borrow a term coined by Ko Yu-sop, the late art historian.

Ramie clothes have to be washed and ironed after each wearing because they are extremely susceptible to dirt and wrinkles. Over the centuries Korean women have spent many a night washing, starching and ironing their famil~s ' summer clothing. One could say that Korean women are responsible for the Korean concept of summer beauty for they are the ones who created the crisp lines we have come to identify with summer.

Korean ramie and hemp are not only famous locally; they have long been

Ramie weaving (above), and a traditional ramie dress (right).

respected in other countries as well.

For example, historical texts dating from Song China mention the abundance of grain, ramie and hemp in Koryo Korea. Hemp clothing seems to have existed since the Three Kingdoms period, but ramie clothing was not popularized until the Koryo period. Historical evidence indicates that ramie weaving peaked during the reign of Koryo King Ch'ungnyol in the late thirteenth century when ramie was not only popular at court but was also sent as tribute to the Chinese emperor. During the final years of the Koryo Kingdom, ramie was in such high demand for women's dowries that the state had to proscribe limits on its use.

When the main hall of Changgoksa Temple in Ch'ong-yang-gun County in Ch'ungch'ongnam-do Province was repaired about a decade ago, workers found a piece of white ramie bearing a prayer for the continued prosperity of the ruling kingdom hidden inside the torso of the bronze Buddha there.

Ramie w'as also made into string sandals traditional hats usually and hats. Ka~ made of horsehair, were made of ramie in the Ch'ungmu region along the southeast coast and coveted by nobles

during the Chason period.

A scene from the p'ansori opera Hungboga reveals just how valuable ramie and hemp were to the Chason people. Hung-bo's wife dances with delight when the grateful sparrow repays her husband's good deed with

bolts of ramie and hemp. The opera clearly reflects the old saying, "Clothes reflect the spirit." Like so many of the traditional summer handicrafts discussed here, ramie and hemp embody the Korean people's attitude toward life and nature. + 15

A History of

KOREAN Kim Chong-tae Art Historian/Consultant National Commission for Cultural Properties

orean handicrafts are known for their distinctively "Korean" characteristics. Exactly how and why did these characteristics come about? There are various answers to this question.

First of all, the geographical position of the Korean Peninsula played a most important role in the formulation of these characteristics. Korea is situated right at a threshold that leads to the Asian continent in one direction and to the vast oceans in the other. Most of Korea's formative arts were introduced from the continent, especially from Chinese, Siberian and Ural-Altaic cultures.

Second, Korea's climate was a major factor in determining not only the style of Korean handicrafts but also their materials-fine and sturdy wood.

Korea has an immense variety and range of handicrafts, which refer to all art works produced by hand, including painting, embroidery, woodcraft, metalwork, stonework, ceramics and rush weavi~g . In Asia, handicrafts are usually divided into Six Fields. The categorizatio.n, which excludes painting, is based on the material: wood, metal, clay, stone, rush and animal skin. The Six Fields derived from the idea of dividing the government into Six Ministries in

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16

the old Chinese book Zhou Li, a concept that dates back to the ancient Asian idea of Six Codes, or Liuli.

Kongye, the Korean word for craft, is comprised of two characters. The first character kong means "to decorate and ornament" and ye literally means "technique." All craftwork, formed of these two factors, together make up what we

refer to as art, or in Korean, misul, which literally means "beauty." Because Koreans have always acknowledged that ultimate beauty lies in nature, the basis of Korean art has been nature itself and Korean handicrafts have come to show the beauty of honesty, free of artifice.

I will now examine the chronological developments of Korean handicrafts.

Korean craftsmen in past centuries left few written records, and intellectuals and scholars seem to have intentionally avoided writing about folk crafts.

Thus, there are few; if any, writings or books that spell out the thoughts and ideas .that our predecessors had on crafts and what has kept the unique genre going for thousands of years.

Prehistoric Period Korean handicrafts began with the striking and chipping of stones in Paleolithic times. Woodwork is also presumed to have begun at that time, but since wooden objects do not last long, stone relics are all that remain. The prehistoric era is usually divided into three periods: the Paleolithic (c. 50 ~ 4000 B.C.), the Neolithic (c. 40~8 B.C.) and the Bronze (c. 80 ~ 30 B.C.).

Most relics from the Paleolithic period are stone implements such as handaxes, made by chipping a rock with another rock to form sharp edges. They

-

date back from as far as 600,000 years to about 5,000 years before the Neolithic age began.

A wide variety of stone tools were used in the Neolithic period. They included hunting and fishing implements such as arrowheads, spear points, sinkers and hooks, and hand tools for general use such as axes, needles, awls, hoes, sickles, combs to put designs on pottery and grinding stones. These artifacts show that the first Korean handicrafts were tools used for food gathering practices like fishing, hunting and agriculture.

Koreans' discovery of pottery was a turning point in the history of Korean handicrafts. The making of pottery was man's first attempt to produce utilitarian objects by making use of the chemical changes that take place in natural materials. Pottery differed in shape according to region. Cone-shaped pottery was made in the south and flat-bottomed pottery was made in the northeast.

Neolithic Korean culture reached its peak around 3000 B.C. and the Bronze Age began around 1000 B.C. Handicrafts of this period developed in three stages, from stone tools to bronze implements to pottery Polished stone crafts reached a highly sophisticated level in the Bronze Age, and were mainly produced for decorative purposes and for farming.

The Bronze Age brought revolutionary changes to the life of ancient man.

Involving numerous steps, from gathering materials to molding and casting, bronze-making required more manpower and collaboration than earlier work

methods, resulting in the emergence of the early stages of industrial manufacturing. Because copper and tin, the materials used to make bronze, were found only in specific parts of the peninsula, Bronze Age Koreans began to gather materials by trading, another important change.

During the Bronze Age, three different types of pottery were produced in

Korea: undecorated, black and red. Undecorated pottery was the most predominant of the three and was produced throughout the Bronze Age. It was more crudely shaped than Neolithic pottery and flat-bottomed. Sand was mixed with the clay The red-burnished pottery of this period was narrow and thin-walled and was baked at a higher temperature than

its Neolithic predecessors. A wide variety of pottery gradually developed during the Bronze Age: some were glazed in shades of scarlet, some had black-dotted patterns and some showed influences of Chinese pottery By the end of the Bronze Age, another new metal culture began to appear in Korea, the iron culture. Drastic changes started to take place in China in the third century B.C. and were brought to Korea and merged with the existing Scytho-Siberian bronze culture. The use of iron spread very gradually on the Korean Peninsula, first appearing in the northern regions adjacent to China and moving on to the southern regions, as late as the first century B.C. in the Kyongju area. ¡ The use of iron led to advancements in agriculture and subsequently increased food production. As the demand for iron tools grew, more and more manpower had to be put into mining and founding, resulting in the further development of manufacturing and the specialization of iron techniques.

All of this contributed to the rise and development of power groups, a few of which became confederated.

During the Iron Age, the use of stone declined, except for polished stone- daggers used in rituals, while the use of bronze, iron and ceramics increased and improved in form and quality Pottery began to be influenced by new pottery-making techniques from China. Pot-shaped earthenware prevailed in the northern part of the peninsula while pottery decorated with applique bands and hornshaped handles appeared south of the Han-gang River. Pots became larger and bulbous.

The most distinctive change in pot17

tery during this period was influenced by the Lolang culture and the arrival of a new pottery form from China around the first century A.D. These influences resulted in new shapes and soft-clay pottery and became representative of the Confederated Kingdoms period.

Handicrafts of the Confederated Kingdoms period have been recovered throughout the peninsula. Relics discovered recently in a tomb in Taho-ri, Changwon-gun, Ky6ngsangnam-do Province have revealed much about the arts and crafts of this era. A variety of artifacts including wooden coffins, lacquerware, bronze mirrors, iron axes, iron plowshares, weapons, writing brushes and coins were recovered from the tomb. Among them, the lacquered objects have¡ received the most attention because they are totally different in style, shape and color from Chinese lacquerware of the same period. It is presumed that Korean woodcrafts took on their own features from this era.

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Stone knives from the Neolithic period (above), _a nd a painting on a saddle flap from the Shilla Tomb of the Heavenly Horse (below).

Three Kingdoms Era During the Three Kingdoms period (57 B.C.-A.D. 668; Shilla, 57 B.C.-A.D. 668; Kogury6, 37 B.C.-A.D. 668 : Paekche, 18B.C.-A.D. 660), the importance of arts and crafts was officially acknowledged.

This is proven by records that a separate division, or pu, for crafts was set up in Shilla. Experts assume that similar offices also existed in Paekche and Kogury6. Most of the handicrafts of this period were produced for religious purposes. Buddhism was the dominant faith, while Taoism and Confucianism were mainly tools for carrying out government policies. The people of the Three Kingdoms regarded Buddhism as the ultimate path to national peace, prosperity and unification. This led them to consider art, including handicrafts, part of their religious practices.

Kogury6's arts and crafts were based on a strong national spirit, one that enabled its people to expand into the vast northern regions. This spirit is well represented in the murals of

Koguryo tombs. These and other art works of Koguryo reveal a subtle yet powerful aura in a subdued yet beautiful style.

Shilla left behind a rich variety of metal, stone and ceramic works whose creation was influenced by the structure of society, the natural environment, contact with foreign cultures and the religious rites of the people. Because Shilla was located in the safest part of the peninsula, it was a peaceful kingdom. Its people, described as optimistic, peace-loving and practical, were able to produce unique and magnificent works of art. Due to its geographic location, its cu ltural relics suffered less destruction from wars than those of the other kingdoms.

Shilla's well-organized and powerful government rule supported a cultural efflorescence.

However, very few works of a private or personal nature appear to have been created. Most of the - relics remaining from Shilla are temples, tombs and royal funerary ornaments-all products of collective labor and government supervision.

Gold crowns found in Shilla tombs are considered among the finest metal crafts in the world, but it is difficult to categorize them as purely individual art works.

It is interesting to note that during Shilla the use of personal ornaments, home furnishings and various other items was strictly regulated according to social class. Detailed evidence of this practice is found in Samguk sagi (History of the Three Kingdoms). The Shilla culture neglected handicrafts fashioned

for use by the common people while promoting those for use by the aristocracy. As a result, a free and creative artistic spirit was stifled during this period.

Shilla craftsmen were highly adept at making lacquerware, metalworks and painting, especially the lacquer paintings that embellished other crafts. An excellent example of Shilla painting is

A gold crown from the Shilla Kingdom.

the painting of a heavenly horse on a saddle flap from the tomb of the Heavenly Horse in Kyongju. The artistry shown here is astonishingly delicate and sensual, almost reminiscent of modern paintings. Similar painting techniques can be found in the tombs of Lolang and Paekche, but Shilla's paintings and lacquerware best illustrate the Korean style.

Of the art of the three kingdoms, the art of Paekche has the most composed and subdued sense of beauty. This characteristic was the product of Paekche's warm pleasant climate and its open and wide flatlands suitable for farming, which enabled the people to live in prosperity and peace.

Buddhism reached Paekche toward the end of the fourth century, boosting the development of art and culture. This was an important point in history, for Paekche enriched Buddhist philosophy and culture and transmitted them later to Shilla and Japan.

Paekche relics reveal much about Paekche society and way of thinking. A good example is the tomb of King Muryong in ¡ Songsan-ri, Kongju, Ch'ungch'ongnam-do Province where many fine crowns and jewelry and other royal relics were unearthed. These artifacts were arranged according to the royal dress code and the Oriental belief in yin-yang and the Five Elements, which was believed to be the ruling order of the univ:erse. S6ngshindo, a painting of the stars on the tomb ceiling, embodies this belief.

The influence that "' Paekche had on Shilla and ~ Japanese art should also be ~ noted. Three of Paekche's finest painters went to Japan to help develop Japanese pamtmg. The government also sent some of the nation's leading specialists in sculpture, temple architecture, metallurgy and roof tile-making to Japan as members of diplomatic missions. An example of Paekche's influence on Shilla is the famed nine-story wooden pagoda of Hwangnyongsa Temple, which is recorded to have been built

by Paekche master craftsman Abiji.

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Buddhist ornamental crafts flourished in the early Kory6 period, while painting, celadon and lacquerware were the main artistic achievements of late Kory6.

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Koryo Kingdom Handicrafts of Koryo (918-1392) developed in close relation with the changes that the society was then going through. Art was heavily influenced by Buddhism during Koryo's early years, and later came under the influence of Neo-Confucianism, which started to spread in late Kory6. Neo-Confucianism brought about revolutionary changes in the Koryo people's way of thinking, for Buddhism had influenced their thought since the country's founding. In early Koryo, Buddhist ornamental crafts flourished, while painting, celadon and mother-of-pearl inlaid lacquerware were the main artistic achievements of Neo-Confucianism in late Kory6.

Art in Koryo developed under government supervision. King Kwangjong set up Koryo's first government organization responsible solely for the dress code of officials in 956. He invited a Chinese official to be the Changjakkam, the head of this body, and ordered Koryo officials to follow China's formal dress codes. In 1012, King Honjong appointed Pak Chin the Changgakkam and extended the directorate's responsibilities to supervising various handicrafts and other products.

A ministry in charge of techniques and skills had also been set up with the dynasty's founding and handicrafts were developed by its subsidiary agencies which included Sobusa, Mulchangsong and Songonggam. There were smaller bodies in each agency in charge of specific arts and crafts, while other offices were responsible for the production of such items as weapons, clothing, miscellaneous goods, arrows and bows.

Song China's envoy to Koryo Xu Jing left behind detailed accounts of the Koryo administration's handling of handicrafts in his geographical study of the Koryo Kingdom.

Koryo society considered craftsmanship a lowly profession. Up to the Three Kingdoms period no actual records of such a social notion can be found, but according to historical writ-

ings on King Songjong's rule, it was legislated that "craftsmen and merchants must serve the king with their given profession and skills and may not be appointed government officials. The sons of craftsmen, merchants and musicians who have contributed to national development may be rewarded with money or gifts but cannot be made government officials." This clearly shows that craftsmen belonged to a low social class that was forbidden social respect and success.

Nonetheless, a wide variety of arts and crafts developed in Kory6. Its three major art forms were mother-ofpearl inlaid lacquerware, gold and silver inlaid crafts, and sanggam ch'ongja, Kory6 's unique inlaid celadon, which flourished with the development of delicate inlaying skills unique to Kory6 culture.

Choson Kingdom Handicrafts underwent a sudden decline during the Chos6n period (1392~ 1910) due to the impact Confucianism had on Chos6n society In the history of Korean handicrafts, arts and crafts flourished the most during the Three Kingdoms period and the least during the Chos6n period.

Chos6n handicrafts can be described as plain and humble. White porcelain, punch'ong (powder green pottery), celadon and blue-and-white porcelain were the only artworks that showed considerable development, while practically no notable changes occurred in other crafts.

This was mainly due to the ruling literati class, or yangban, who held the view that art was what artisans produced, ¡ not something that yang ban should be the least interested in.

Chos6n society's tendency to look down on craftsmen was stronger than in any other period or nation, even China.

If a yangban were to show interest in such pursuits, he was soon denounced by his fellow literati as practicing "u ui" or "yu ui," concepts established by the early Chos6n scholar Kang Hui-maeng. U ui, which literally means "foolish practice," was a term used to criticize a yangban's interest in arts and crafts as idle and lazy avocations. Yu ui was a derogatory term implying the necessity of having to work for a living. These concepts were widespread, for the ultimate goal of the yangban class was to become a kunja, a man of honor, who should set his mind on the study of mankind's virtues, not on social success. â&#x20AC;˘

Young artisans still devote themselves to the creation of traditional handicrafts.

21

Kim Chong-tae Art Historian/Consultant National Commission for Cultural Properties

hang-in means someone who has acquired expertise in his field; in other words, a person who has devoted his life to a chosen vocation. In the past, artisans were referred to as paekkong, chesaekin, or chang-in, not to mention chabin, which was a term signifying a lowly position. All of these words derived from the strict class system of the

C

Korean artisans have carried on a rich artistic tradition despite the scorn they so often encountered in traditional society 22

highly Confucian Choson society that looked down on any kind of artisan.

Paekkong referred to virtually anyone who used manual dexterity to make a living. The word paekkong originated from the Confucian Classics, which stated that there were six professions, and the rest were paekkong Chesaekin referred to low class people such as artists, merchants, shamans and butchers, who were considered the lowest of the lowest. However, changin was the all-inclusive term for artisans who made all kinds of things. They were also called chaeng-i. Among chang-in there were many different kinds of handicraftsmen, and within each field there were many different positions. For example, in carpentry, there were ch6jang, who planed wood; sajang, who engraved designs onto wood; ch'6njang, who sharpened axes and drilled holes in wood; shimjang, who drew up plans; and tongnyangjang, who made pillars and gates. In addition, there were tojang, who worked with clay, and ch'ijang, who worked with metal. There were altogether 105 kinds of chang-in recorded in the Ky6ngguk taej6n (National Code), a collection of laws and regulations of Choson.

The concept of artisanship of the chang-in of ancient Korea was apparently influenced by the ancient Chinese concept of artisanship. In ancient Chi-

na, artisans were called tiangong, meaning "a man of heaven-sent talent," and craftsmanship was thus considered a heaven-sent ability (Tiangong kaiwu).

Song Ying-cheng, who wrote Tiangong kaiwu during the Chinese Song Dynasty, stated that creativity is heavensent. He believed that it was the tiangong's responsibility to make useful things for humans, which he interpreted as following the Way of Heaven. He emphasized that an artisan's craft was determined by heaven, and was a calling for special people. According to a Chinese classic, Heaven synchronizes time, earth has energy; beauty is found in the material, and dexterity is essential to the craft. It is only when all four of these elements are integrated that an artisan's work becomes whole. When beauty is lacking, and artistry is wanting, the work will not harmonize with Heaven, and so will not receive good energy from earth. The four elements were regarded as four virtues, and unless they were in harmony; the product could not be whole. That is why the artisans of East Asia had to master the technique of harmonizing the four virtues in order to be called highlyskilled artisans.

There was a famous artisan by the name of Huang Da-cheng who made lacquerware during the Chinese Ming Dynasty. He wrote a book about his experiences in which he noted, "It is the harmony of Heaven and Earth that enables a craftsman to make things well. And that is the driving spirit of craftsmanship in East Asia." -Another essential component is ihongyang, moderation. Moderation, as advocated by Confucius, is a key part of human etiquette, its sphere contains no excessiveness, no biases, no leanings, but radiates pervasively. Joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure yet to be aroused are called zhong;when these emotions are aroused but arrested, they are called hwa. Therefore, moderation is the foundation of everything; it is also the motivating force that can lead one to the Tao. For example, if an object is too

pleasing to look at, then it is in danger of appearing cheap, or if it is too poorly made, it will not attract attention and will therefore be ignored. This is what the spirit of moderation is all about.

That is also why the pursuit of moderation is so important to chang-in.

Lao Tzu said, "A pretty color will blind the eyes, a pleasant sound will ~eafn the ears, and good food will spoil the tongue." In other words, a good work must always manifest moderation. Confucius said beauty is complete when inner and outer come tQgether. In the Analects he states that, when the inner dominates the outer, it appears too rough; when the outer supersedes the inner, it ends up an empty and began to immerse themselves in ornament. It is only when the inner creative work and commerce. Furtherand outer are in harmony that a sage is more, they were not allowed to take possible. This could be interpreted the state examination, and therefore along the same line as his housu princi- lived according to the rules set within ple; that is to say, it is not the result of their own circle. In some ways, they the picture that is paramount, ]jut ' were economically better off than the nobility because of their trade, for the rather the spirit behind the picture that : nobility had no fixed source is important. of income. According The Korean concept to art historian Ko of ~rtisanhp, as one Yu-sop, it was uncan see, coincides in der these circummany ways with stances that the the Chinese conartisans of Kocept. This is berea came to cause the handidedicate their crafts of Korea lives to creating are, by nature, magnificent obsimple, ordinary, jects. and down-to-earth.

I met many great They are not in any chang-in while I way ornate to the served as a consultant on point of disrupting the cultural properties. It was spirit. The chang-in spirit developed within the strict class system about twenty years ago that I went to of Choson society As a result of the see¡ a master blacksmith in Chongson, tyranny of the arrogant Choson nobili- Kangwon-do Province. After walking ty, under the official state ideology of around on a hot day tryingto find him, Neo-Confucianism, the handicraftsmen I came across a fortyish-looking man were relegated to the status of slave. who was diligently tempering a scythe And once a member of the nobility lost blade and an eightyish-looking man his status, he could never regain that taking a nap beside him on the riverposition, and his descendants were per- bank. A good scythe is wholly dependmanently consigned to a lower status. ent on how well it is tempered. When The fallen nobility gave up all hope, the younger man dipped the hot blade formed a guild for mutual protection in the water, it hissed. At that moment,

the sleeping man jumped up and yelled at the younger man, "You dummy!

When are you ever going to do it right?

Dip the blade again!" The old man knew by the hiss whether or not the blade was well-tempered. Anyone who devotes his life to his craft can attain such mastery Another episode I can relate involved an old man who made horsehair headbands in Pongdong-myon, Wanju-gun, Ch6lla-do Province. All his life he went from village to village repairing or making horsehair headbands.

Ten years ago, I went to visit him with the purpose of nominating him as a living cultural asset. The old man was horsehair headbands. still m~king What surprised me was the utter deftness with which he threaded the horsehair. I could not help but be amazed. I asked the old man if I could try threading the horsehair. _After ten assiduous attempts, I gave up. That master artisan represents what I call the chang-in spirit.

Although the artisans of Choson were stubborn and single-minded, they had an uncompromising and relentless chang-in spirit which led them to master their chosen crafts. If a scholar can become a sage through a lifetime of scholarship, then an artisan can become a master through a lifetime of crafting, in other words by dedicating himself to his craft. + 23

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shafts, cigarette holders, and fans.

Ojuk is glossy; sturdy and resilient. It is light brown in autumn, and purplish black in spring. It is used to make ornaments and furniture.

Wangdae grows mostly in the Ky6ngsang-do and Ch6llanam-do provinces. Because it is resistant to fire and humidity and splits well, it has many applications. The shiny bamboo skin with .dark brown spots is tough and durable and is appropriate for handicrafts and architectural uses.

Somdae is called strainer bamboo because it was mostly used to make strainers in the past. However, the somdae grown today is different from that grown in the past; its skin has no spots.

It is less resilient than wangdae. Nevertheless, it is very durable and can be split into thin strips. Accordingly; this bamboo is mostly used to make flutes, canes, fan frames, baskets, umbrellas, fishing rods, brims of traditional Korean hats, as well as ornamental crafts. It also has architectural uses.

In one of the Lolang tombs discovered in 1931, a large, box-shaped, colored trunk made of thin strips of bamboo was unearthed. In 1988, a National Museum team excavated what appears to be the oldest bamboo artifacts found in Korea from an ancient tomb in Taho-

26

ri, Changwon-gun, Ky6ngsangnam-do.

The tomb, conjectured to be that of a royal family who lived in the first century A.D., contained many bamboo artifacts, including a scabbard, bows, arrow shafts, baskets, brush handles, fan frames, and lacquerware.

In the Shilla period (57 B.C.-A.D. 935), according to Samguk Sagi (History of the Three Kingdoms), there were bamboo musical instruments called samjuk and hyang samjuk. There is also a story about a mythical bamboo flute in

Samguk Yusa (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms).

Some typical household items made of bamboo are mats, wicker baskets, large combs, curtains, boxes, and nested boxes. Other items include pencil cases, cigarette holders, letter holders, various types of pillows, fan frames, knife cases, hat brims, walking sticks, cloth~s closets, inkstone holders, bookcases, receptacles, arrow holders, and game boards. Chukjang is furniture made from paulownia wood and embellished with bamboo strips. This type of furniture was mainly used in a scholar's study because bamboo, which is always green, grows straight and tall, and bends in the wind but never breaks, symbolized integrity; a virtue to which every scholar aspired.

Bamboo articles and the bamboo

embellishments of furniture are usually pyrographically decorated. Pyrography is an ancient Korean art form in which a design is etched onto a surface with a hot iron. The most commonly pyrographed designs include the ten symbols of longevity (shipchangsaeng: rocks, mountains, water, clouds, pine trees, Fungus of Immortality, tortoises, deer, cranes, and the sun), the Four Gentlemen (sagunja: plum, orchid, chrysanthemum, and bamboo), grass, flowers and birds, simple landscapes, bats, shells, apricot blossoms, clouds, and turtle shells. +

27

Pyrography

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yrography(nakhwa) is the art or process of producing designs and letters on a material by us· ing heated tools. It is assumed to have originated from the branding of cattle or criminals, though there is no clear proof. Experts believe that various bamboo crafts including cabinets, brush cases and paper holders, combs, cutlery and rulers have been decorated with pyrography since ancient times, but there are almost no relics dating from before the eighteenth century Mention of pyrography can be found in records and other writings from the late Chason Kingdom (13921910). For example, pyrography from T'ongyong is listed as one of the main local specialties of Chason's eight provinces in So Yu-gu's Imwon Ky6ngje (Treatise Written iv Retirement) Evi· dence of pyrography on paper, animal skin or silk is even harder to find, not to mention concrete evidence that such artworks were produced in Korea. Experts and historians assume that profes· sional pyrographers appeared only at the beginning of the nineteenth century, but records do show that various patterns were put on wooden furniture by this "burning" method.

Historian Ch'oe Nam-son also left behind some accounts of pyrographers in his book Chos6n sangshik mundap (Questions and Answers on Common Knowledge in Korea): "The art of using a hot heated iron with a sharp end to execute letters and designs on paper or bamboo and wooden panels is called pyrography This method existed from ancient times. In China, in the late Ming Dynasty, a man named Murin from Moding, Yun-nan was widely known for the pyrography he did on

28

bamboo chopsticks. He drew beautiful and unique pictures of animals, fish, flowers, birds, landscapes, portraits, fortresses and pavilions with this method and his works came to be considered precious gift items. When wandering bandits invaded Yun-nan at the end of the Ming Dynasty, they were fascinated with Murin's chopstick pyrography and approached him. But rather than cooperate with the bandits, Murin pretended to have gone mad and people later gave him the nickname, Wufengji, Wind Warrior."

Transmission of Pyrography Of th~ professional pyrographers of the late Chason Kingdom, Pak Ch'anggyu (1796-1855), a painter and pyrographer active during King Sunjo's rule, is the only ohe known today 0 Se-ch'ang (1864-1953) wrote of Pak in his book Kuny6k s6hwajing (Directory of Korean Artists and Calligraphers) "His boyhood name was Song-min and he had two pen names, Nang-u and Su-san. He was also called Hwahwa-doin, or Master of Pyrography. He was born in Hamyang in 1796 and later lived in ChOnju after serving as an official of the ch'ambong rank" Kim Sok-chun (1831-1915) also wrote in one of his books that Pak had "done away with brush and ink, and reached new heights in art through pyrography.

This new technique was truly fine and delicate. I realized that I had finally come upon the work of a great master when I saw his pyrographed image of a Buddha on a wooden panel. Though he also excelled in painting, it was his skill in pyrography that made him a unique presence in Korea."

The scholar Yi Kyu-gyong noted the

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following in his Oju y6nmunjangj6nsango (Collection of Miscellaneous Essays): "In China Wufengji was considered the master of pyrography. His counterpart in Korea was Pak Ch'anggyu. Pak's pyrography skills were of such an unprecedented level that his work left nothing to be desired. He

Landscape byPak Ch'ang-gyu, the first

professional pyrographer in Korean history (left). Heating the irons (above).

surely deserves to be ranked alongside Wufengji for his name will go down in history as the East's greatest pyrographer ever."

From this it can be concluded that Pak Ch'ang-gyu, who was from Namwon, not Hamyang, was the first professional pyrographer in Korean history.

His boyhood name was not Song-min but Kong-jip and his pen name was Susan. Pak's motives for becoming a pyrographer and the development of his career are recorded in detail in The Histo-

ry of the Hogye-gong Clan of the Pak Family of Miryang. Among the accounts of Pak's life recorded in the genealogy book is an episode depicting how he earned his reputation as Hwahwa-doin: "In the winter of 1849, a Chinese envoy to Chason saw Pak's pyro29

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graphic works for the first time and wrote a poem to show his appreciation for Pak's art. Another envoy; the vice minister for military affairs, was so impressed with Pak's works that he started clapping his hands as soon as he lay eyes on them. These episodes helped spread Pak's name throughout the East and people came to refer to him as the . Master of Pyrography; Hwahwa-doin."

Pak Ch'ang-gyu's pyrographic techniques were passed on to his cousins Pak I -gyu (Pen name: Song- am, 1819 - 1859) and Pak Un-gyu (Unch'o, 1836-?), then to his brother Pak Ch'angguk (Kyeun, 1830- ?), his son Pak Sangp'il (Sokch'on, 1895-?), and his grandson Pak Pyong-su (Ch'osan). Pak's cousin I-gyu (Song-am) transmitted his skills to his own son Pak Chin-ho (Chukp'a, 1842- ?) who passed them on to his son Pak Kye-dam (Wolsan, 1869 - 1946). Pak Kye-dam in turn passed on the skills to his son Pak Sangjon (Sosan, 1901- 1959) who marked the fourth consecutive Pak generation to make a living through the art of pyrography. .,._ -=

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Examples of the works of Pak Ch'ang-guk (left,) Pak Sang-jOn (above), Pak Ch'angguk (right), and Pak Kye·dam (opposite).

30

It seems that Pak Ch'ang-gyu was a generous and big-hearted man, for it is said that when King Honjong praised a bamboo pipe he made, Pak credited his cousin I-gyu with making it and recommended him to the king.

Pak I-gyu's pyrography career is noted as follows in the Pak family history book: "Pak Ch'ang-gyu's cousin Pak Igyu was born in 1819. In 1846, he went to Seoul with Ch'ang-gyu and met the king. King Honjong was so happy to see him that he held his hand and presented him a gift of his own calligraphy.

I-gyu was so moved that from that day on, he kept his hand wrapped in silk.

In 1857 he passed the National Military Service Examination and served in various positions including governor of Chiodo. He died at the age of forty.

"Pak Ch'ang-gyu 's grandson Pak Pyong-su was invited to Japan in the last days of Chason and became a teacher of pyrography there. He also taught pyrography to his own son Paek-a. There is a painting in our old house on which the words 'Chason Pyrographer' are inscribed."

As can be discerned from the above accounts, the development of pyrography in Korea was mostly concentrated in the southern regions of the Korean Peninsula. One of the reasons for this may be that there is plenty of bamboo, one of the main materials used in pyrography, in the south. Some contemporary pyrographers of note are Yi Tong-yon (1911-1984) and Kuk Yangmun (1914- ) of Tamyang, Chollanamdo.

Examples of Pyrography Pak Ch'ang-guk's eight-panel pyrographed screen Y6ngmodo (Painting of Birds and Beasts) depicts various birds among stones, flowers, bamboo and pine trees. A subtitle is written on the top of each panel. The work, reminiscent of calligraphic paintings of the late Chason period, lacks the bold ¡brush strokes and shading of ink paintings, but has a unique charm produced by the edges of the hot iron.

On the other hand, Pak Un-gyu's eight-panel screen of a grand landscape has an aura similar to the landscapes of Chason painter Yi In-mun. The scene shows two or three huts hidden in a thick forest. With a stream flowing in the valley, it almost seems like the landscape is not of this world. Pak's delicate touches exhibit a rare beauty, though again, t¡he work lacks boldness and scale.

Pak Sang-jon was known for his depictions of plants, flowers and insects.

These subjects were ideal for making the most of the fine and delicate effects of pyrography +

31

Kuk Yang¡mun a Kim Ki¡chan

Lonely Heirs to aVanishing Art Lee Kyong-hee Freelance Wr.iter

uk Yang-mun has been practicing pyrography for almost seven decades, but he says he has never been truly satisfied with his work. Nevertheless, he has no peers in the world of pyrography Indeed, some critics have compared his unique artistry to the originality of Pablo Picasso. However, his unsurpassed craftmanship has seldom allowed him to feel secure financially At eighty, he is waging a solitary battle against a long ailment with little money to pay the cost of medical care, the painful reality of a man who all his life has stood guard single-mindedly over a vanishing folk craft.

Kuk and his wife live in a small house along a narrow alley by the Tamyangch'6n Stream in Tamyang, the famous bamboo region in Ch6llanamdo Province, where a bamboo ware market has been held every five days for hundreds of years. A large sign, reading "Pyrography Research Institute, Important Intangible Cultural Property No. 31," is hung over the gate of the house, attesting to its owner's unequivocal love for his art.

"It's been quite a while since I worked," said the elderly craftsman, asking his guests into his studio, which is actually a small, ordinary ondol room by the gate where his many works and tools are displayed in good order. Mustering his strength, he began to tell the long story of his life and experience as a guardian of a traditional craft that, much to his regret, has been gradually diminishing in recent decades. A man of uncompromising character as up-

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The motifs found in pyrography are rich in symbolism-cranes for long life, fish for good fortune, plum blossoms for the spirit of the scholar (above). Kuk Yangmun at work (opposite).

right as the bamboo he works with, Kuk didn't want "random questions" from the interviewer to cut off the stream of his story His reflections followed his own plot.

Born in Tamyang in 1914, Kuk learned how to make fine-toothed bamboo combs at age seven. His hometown, still famous as a hub of folk bamboo crafts, was enjoying a nationwide reputation for high-quality bamboo combs, especially the fine-toothed ones that were indispensable for tightly grooming women's hair in the traditional bun. The little boy worked for his uncle who, like many of his neighbors, made the prized combs at home.

More than 200 of the 250 households in the three adjacent villages in the township of Tamyang were engaged in comb making and the rest in farming.

Once his uncle had "a large order" from America, possibly from the early immigrants, which made the little country boy even busier than usual.

His work mainly involved carrying newly made combs to a pyrographer in the next village and bringing back decorated ones. While waiting, he would watch the old man deftly moving his iron over the narrow comb ridges to create intricate designs resembling flowers or insects. Then one day, he recollects, it occurred to him that he might be able to do it himself. He asked his father to buy him a pair of pyrographer's irons. But his father refused, saying that he was still too young to work with a hot iron in his hand.

The boy couldn't accept his father's reasoning and decided to save the little

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money he made from working for his uncle. As soon as he had enough money, he ran to a smithy in his village and bought a pair of irons. "I was 11 years old," Kuk noted. "At that time, I never imagined I would be working with those small irons all my life."

He was so happy that, on the very same day, he locked himself in his room and made a charcoal fire .to heat his irons. He spent 6 hours blowing his fire through a bamboo tube, but the irons didn't get hot. He came out of his room after midnight to find it had snowed heavily .while he was struggling with his fire. Stepping into the yard, he thought that the snow looked beautiful and then the next moment, he slipped on it.

It was only after he regained consciousness that he realized he had inhaled too much charcoal gas. "It was an important lesson for a would-be pyrographer," Kuk recalled. The pyrographer in the next village recommended that the boy learn the art when he heard what had happened.

Thus Kuk began to practice with his new irons, and by the next year, he was receiving orders from his neighbors who asked him to decorate their combs instead of wasting time taking them to the next village. He quick! y gained fame throughout his native county for his skill. Orders poured in .and, for some time, he worked on as many as 1,000 combs a day.

His skill failed to improve his financial condition to any notable degree, though. Instead, he earned the coveted title of "Human Cultural Treasure," the highest honor for masters in traditional arts and crafts. In 1987, the government recognized him as the nation's single living master in the field of pyrography.

Kuk succeeds the late Yi Tong-nyon, a fellow Tamyang native, who also worked in his hometown until he died in 1984 at seventy-three.

Pyrography is a simple art. A hot iron, or indu, is the sole implement required to execute designs on bamboo or ordinary wood, or paper, whatever 34

.A paper holder by Kim Kichan (above), and a brush holder by Kuk Yang-mun (below). Indu (opposite) are the hot irons used to create the intricate patterns found in traditional pyrography.

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This pulja, a bamboo wand used in Buddhist ceremonies, is a work by Kim Ki-chan.

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the artist chooses_ "Actually," Kuk retorted, "you need two irons to work with alternately And you need a sharp eye and a quick hand as well. There is no set pattern to follow. You must decide on your own where to move your iron, and how strongly, from moment to moment."

The traditional pyrographer tests the temperature of his iron by bringing it

close to his cheek, an ancient but proven way of achieving the desired tints of patterns and proper gradation in scorching. The iron has a sharp point but its oval body is relatively thick, resembling a bird's head. The iron is so shaped to keep it hot as long as possible.

It is not clear when pyrography was first practiced. Historians believe it may have been in ancient Korea, like in ancient China, when public offices marked articles for official use with burned or scorched signs. The method was also used on cattle and prisoners in some ancient societies.

In spite of its obscure origin, pyrography, or nakhwa, literally meaning "burned pictures," was widely employed by Korean craftsmen up until the early half of this century, primarily to decorate bamboo folding fans, pipes, knife handles, brush holders, combs, tea trays, folding screens and signboards.

Various designs similar to the popular motifs in folk painting, including flowers, birds, insects, the traditional ten longevity symbols and even landscapes, were executed on assorted backgrounds such as paper, wood, leather and silk Bamboo was nevertheless the most frequently used background material, hence its popular nomenclature in Korean, nakchuk, literally "burned bamboo."

Little is known of the history of pyrography but many of the mysteries that have puzzled scholars and connoisseurs over the decades have been unveiled thanks to the efforts .of Kim Kichan, a leading pyrographer today.

Kim, a former student of the deceased master Yi Tong-ny6n, discovered antique pyrographic pieces, genealogical tables, diaries and other historical documents containing valuable information about the proud history of the family of Pak Ch'ang-gyu in the dusty attics of his descendants in the Namwon and Ch6nju area two years ago.

None of Pak Ch'ang-gyu's works remain today, though a rare anecdote testifying to his artistry has been hand-

ed down. The story goes that King Honjong was so fascinated by a bamboo pipe decorated with a dragon design by Pak that he remarked: "This is a marvelous skill indeed. The dragon's scales seem to curl up when I draw on the pipe and spread out when I puff on it." Folding screens bearing pyrographic landscapes executed on mulberry paper

by Pak's descendants are of such outstanding qua:lity that the viewer can imagine the level of artistry Pak himself must have achieved. Rendered in a style similar to traditional ink and brush paintings, they differ notably from most of the works of today's artists who tend to stylize their motifs with folkish attributes.

The Pak family based in Namwon carried on the tradition to the generation of Pak Sang-jon (1901 ~ 1959), the great-grandson of Pak I-gyu, a cousin of Pak Ch'ang-gyu. They provide a rare example of family succession in Korean native handicrafts in modern times.

Kim Ki-chan presented all of the antique pieces in his possession as well as a selection of his own pieces, including

Knives with bamboo handles (top), a comb of a modern design (above), and a folding paper fan (below) created by Kim Ki-chan.

a number of holy scepters of high Buddhist monks, in an exhibition at the Traditional Handicrafts Hall in Seoul's Kyongbokkung Palace in September last year. The exhibition helped many interested in the dying folk craft understand its various phases which have been forgotten in the harsh waves of modernization in this century Kim was credited for his unrivaled endeavor in both artistic creation and research in the historical background of his art.

Still, Kim, who is thirty-nine, a father of three and a devout Buddhist, sounded bitter when he deplored the miserable financial outlook of the craft.

"Strictly speaking," said the outspoken artist, "we'd better say that today there is no professional pyrographer at all in Korea. No one can make a living from the art." His family relies on the income of his wife who runs a souvenir shop at the entrance to Songgwangsa Temple in Sungju, Chollanam-do Province, which has been his home since the late 1970s. And this is how he has been able to devote himself to his art over the years. +

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The people of Kanghwado are known for their perseverance and aloofness. These characteristics are clearly born of their historical experiences. The island's original inhabitants struggled to make a life for themselves on the windswept island since ancient times. During the Mongol invasions that rocked the Koryo Kingdom, Kanghwado was inundated with a wave of refugees, both aristocrats and commoners, from the capital of Kaesong. The native population was evacuated and ordered to find refuge in the mountains or surrounding islands.

During the latter part of the Choson period, these people were joined by artillerymen, dispatched from the northern part of the Korean peninsula to man the fortresses and batteries built around the periphery of the island, as well as government officers sent to administer the defenses. The Choson court and its aristocratic followers fled to the island in 1627 to escape the invasion of Hu Jin from northeastern China.

The island's population boomed once again in 1950 when the Korean War created a new wave of refugees.

Considering all the refugees, invasions, instability and hardships they have experienced, it is only natural that the Kanghwado people are known for their aloofness, stinginess, and fierce independence.

The Mongol invaders began pounding the Korean Peninsula in 1232. The Koryo court fled to Kanghwado, not only because it was the closest stronghold to the capital of Kaesong, but also because it was located at the mouths of the strategically important Yesonggang, Imjin-gang and Han-gang rivers, and on critical sea routes, making it easier to rule the kingdom in exile.

Troops were dispatched to build a palace, modelled after the magnificent royal residence in Kaesong, and a double wall to reinforce the island's coasts.

Then the court ministers and the monarch himself moved to the island, from which the Koryo regime ruled for 40

Hikers climb to an ancient stone altaratopMt. Manisan (above) from where one can see North Korea jar in thedistance(right).

One of the many dolmens scattered around ¡t he island (below), and the remains of a Kory6 palace (lower right).

the next 39 years.

The court ordered the commoners remaining on the mainland to flee to coastal islands or mountain fortresses and fight the Mongols from there. The invaders adopted a scorched-earth strategy in response to the Koreans' passionate resistance, burning rural communities to the ground and slaughtering farmers and livestock at random. Their final invasion in 1254 was particularly brutal. The Mongols took more than 200,000 prisoners (The entire population of Seoul in the latter part of the Choson period was only 200,000.) and laid waste to everything in their path.

Of course, a scorched-earth tactic was a natural choice for the nomadic Mongols. However, they were not prepared for the choppy waters of the passage separating Kanghwado from the mainland and never did dislodge the Kory6 court by force. Instead, the Kory6 court realized the futility of continued resistance and worked out a peace agreement with the Mongols, returning to Kaesong in 1270.

It was during this turbulent period that the Tripitaka Koreana, a collection of over 80,000 woodblocks inscribed with the complete Buddhist texts, was carved on Kanghwado. The Tripitaka was originally carved in the early eleventh century by order of the early Kory6 r.ulers who believed that possession of such blocks would protect their kingdom from invasion by the Kitan people of Manchuria. The woodblocks were destroyed, however, in a fire during the Mongol invasion of 1232. Kory6 King Kojong (r. 123~ 1259) ordered the production of a new set of woodblocks to appeal for the Buddha's strength in repulsing the latest wave of foreign invaders. These woodblocks, now housed at Haeinsa Temple near Taegu, are renowned worldwide for the beauty of their calligraphy and meticulousness of their carving.

The woodblocks' longevity seems to be the result of the painstaking process by which they were made. They were carved from silver magnolia, native to 41

the southern islands of Kojedo, Wando and Chejudo. Silver magnolia logs were soaked in sea water for 3 years and then sawed into boards. The boards were boiled in sea water and then dried in the shade. Once they were completely dry, the boards were planed until perfectly smooth. Calligraphers then inscribed the texts on the surface of the boards with ink and brush, and carvers carefully engraved the characters one by one. The process ended with a coat of lacquer.

The waters surrounding the island saved it from the nomadic Mongols' invasions. This natural defense was fortified by the Choson rulers who installed eight cannon batteries in 1679. These batteries were used in 1866 when three vessels from the French Far East Fleet, then active in Indochina, were dispatched to Korea .in response to the persecution of Catholics and the execution of French priests. The French forces landed on Kanghwado and occupied the main town, but were later re-

pulsed by 500 Korean troops armed with muskets.

Five years later, American battleships were dispatched to Korea in retaliation for the burning and sinking of the General Sherman, an American merchant ship, around the time of the French invasion, and in an attempt to open Korea to foreign trade. The ships dispatched a small landing party to the island, but the Kanghwado shore batteries opened fire, causing the withdrawal of the party. A fight ensued, but the Americans ultimately withdrew.

In 1875, the Japanese sent the battleship Unyo to Kanghwado on the pretext of surveying sea routes but were forced to withdraw by the Choson cannon batteries. The Taewon-gun, father of the young King Kojong, was determined to prevent all encroachments from the West, including Japan, which he saw as tainted by the West. He was afraid royal authority might be undermined i;Jy foreign trade or the introduction of foreign ways. However, the Unyo incident led to Choson's reluctant

signing of a treaty of amity with the Japanese in 1876 and opened the way for increased contact with the outside world.

Interestingly, none of the 200 cannon balls fired at the American battleships caused any damage, and only one cannon ball reached the Unyo. Still, the Taewon-gun exulted in his "victories" over the Western barbarians and erected monuments along the Kanghwado shoreline bearing the following inscription: "Not to fight back when invaded by the Western barbarians is to invite further attacks. If we do not fight we must then appease them. To urge appeasement is to betray the nation."

Clearly the Choson rulers were completely unaware of the Western countries' strength or the significance of their modern weapons.

Kanghwado was not simply a sanctuary from foreign invasion. It was also the destination for hundreds of exiles from the Koryo and Choson courts.

Since the island was so close to the cap-

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Ch'ojijin Fortress was one of the first built during the mid¡Choson period.

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itals of both kingdoms, victims of court friction and conspiracies were often sent there. Two Kory6 kings were banished to the island after losing their thrones, and the founder of the Chos6n Kingdom, Yi S6ng-gye, sent the last Kory6 king there after taking control of the country Two of the Chos6n era's most famous tyrants, and their relatives, were banished to the island and later died there. The fifteenth Chos6n king, Kwanghae-gun (r. 1609-1623) banished his half-brother Prince Y6ngch'ang, a rival to the throne, to Kanghwado where he was incarcerated in an airtight room and burned to death. However, it wasn't long before Kwanghaegun himself was deposed and exiled to the island along with his wife. It is said their son, banished to a small island nearby, missed his father so much he dug a tunnel out of his cell and was killed by his guards. When Kwanghaegun's wife heard of her son's death, she hung herself. The tenth Chos6n monarch, Y6nsan-gun (r. 1494-1506),

was banished to a small island near Kanghwado after he was deposed by disgruntled courtiers. He died just four months later, reportedly longing for his wife.

On the other hand, Kanghwado was also the home of a little known 19-yearold boy who ascended the throne as the 25th Chos6n king after H6njong (r.

1834-1849) died without male issue.

Ch'6ljong (r. 1849-1863), H6njong's uncle and the great-grandson of Y6ngjo (r.

1724-1776), spent his childhood farming on the island before he was selected to succeed H6njong. His house in Kanghwa City was renamed YonghUnggung Palace and remains there today.

Considering Kangh wado's sad and turbulent history, it is no wonder its residents are a strong and diligent people.

Just as fierce winds make for hardy trees, the bitter history of Kanghwado has made its people rugged, frugal and industrious. Kanghwado women are said to be strong-willed and not easily embarrassed. This image seems to have

developed during the early twentiethth century, prior to the Korean War, when Kanghwado was famous for the production of rayon, just as it is famous for the production of hwamunsok woven mats today. Life on the island was so hard the women had no choice but to travel from market to market throughout the Korean Peninsula, even as far north as Manchuria, peddling the rayon they wove.

A Kanghwado woman is the subject of a famous myth involving the main hall of Ch6ndungsa, a Buddhist temple on the southern part of the island. The eaves of the main hall of this temple are adorned by unusual carvings of female nudes. According to the legend, a carpenter working on the restoration of the hall after the Japanese invasions of the late sixteenth century fell in love with a young woman living in the village below the temple. He promised to marry her when he finished his work, but one day, when the project was nearly completed, the woman ran off with all his money The carpenter was

The entrance to Chondiingsa Temple.

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One of the nude figures "holding up" the eaves at Chondiingsa Temple (above).

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overcome with grief and resentment and decided to carve the grotesque female figures, which squat under the eaves supporting the roof, as a warning to all wicked women. The carvings are the only nudes found in Korea's temple sculpture and valuable examples of traditional sculpting techniques.

There are no historical records showing when the people of Kanghwado first started making hwamuns6k, mats woven of sedge. We do know they were recognized as a specialty of the island as early as the mid-Koryo period and remain popular today: In fact, the mats are no longer simply considered a specialty of Kanghwado, but are seen as a matter of pride for all Koreans.

Kanghwado was originally home to two varieties of mats: the sedge (Cyperus exaltatus) hwamuns6k manufactured in Hachom on the western coast and the rush mats fringed with cloth produced in the Kyodong area. The Kyodong mats are no longer made, however.

The sedge stalks used in hwamun44

s6k are split, then exposed to the dew for several days, dried and woven into mats. The designs, from which the hwamuns6k (literally "mats decorated with flowers") get their name, are made by weaving in stalks of sedge that have been hollowed out and dyed brilliant colors.

The designs are usually representations of propitious symbols from nature: for example, the so-called herb of longevity, turtles, pine trees or cranes symbolizing longevity, bamboo denoting fidelity, deer representing nobility, large stones symbolizing dignity, tigers representing stateliness, etc.

The beauty of Kanghwado's hwamuns6k has long been recognized by the Korean people. In the late nineteenth century, the Choson court ordered the Kanghwado artisans to produce mats with colorful designs for tribute to the kings. After many failed attempts to achieve a quality befitting a king, a man named Han Ch'ung-gyo of Hach6m succeeded in applying a magnificent floral design and sent the mat to the court as tribute.

A visit to the hwamuns6k market, held every five days in the town of Kanghwa, reminds us that the spirit of the Kanghwado people lives on today The rows upon rows of golden mats touched with brilliant greens, pinks and reds seem to embody the frugality and diligence for which the island people have become famous. +

Kanghwado has long been famous for its hwamunsok and the hwamuns6k market is held every five days in the town of Kanghwa.

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Symbol of Korean Sovereignty Kim Bong-ryol Associate Professor, Architecture, Ulsan University Consultant, National Commission for Cultural Properties 46

Kiinfongjon, the throne hall of Kyi)ngbokkung.

Palaces in Seoul It was in 1394, two years after Yi Song-gye seized power in a military coup d'etat, that Seoul was chosen the 1910), the new capital of Choson (1392~ kingdom he established. It had taken two years for the new government to find a location preferable to Kaesong, the capital of Kory6 (918 ~ 1392), the kingdom Choson superseded. However, when, after much heated debate about various sites, Hanyang, today's Seoul, was chosen, the construction of

the capital was begun at once.

The area was called Namgyong, or Southern Capital, during the Kory6 period and had a local palace near what is now Kyongbokkung, but it was much too small to serve as a permanent residence for the king. Construction of a new palace took priority and, in keeping with the traditional norm of a national capital, a royal ancestral shrine (Chongmyo) was built to its east and a national altar to Heaven and Earth (Sajiktan) was built to its west.

The palace, a modest facility of only

390 kan (a traditional unit of measure referring to the space between two columns), was completed in 1395 and named Kyongbokkung. Thereafter, a number of palaces were built in the vicinity, including Ch'angdokkung, Ch'anggyonggung, Kyong-ungung (today's T6ksugung) and Kyonghuigung (the Metropolitan Museum of Art now stands on its site). But they were all secondary to Kyongbokkung, which remained the main palace throughout 47

the dynasty; and were used only when Kyongbokkung could not accommodate the king. King T'aejong, the third monarch of Chos6n, built Ch'angd6kkung in 1406 as his official residence, and Kwanghaegun restored Ch'anggy6nggung in 1615 for his use.

In addition, local palaces were built throughout the country to provide temporary accommodations for the king. For example, palaces were built in Namhan Sans6ng Fortress and on Kanghwado Island for the king to take refuge should the need arise, and in Suwon and Onyang to accommodate the king when he journeyed away from the capital The five palaces in Seoul share the common feature of being composed of three areas: a government area, a residential area and a garden area. However, the composition and the relative orientation of the three areas are quite different in each palace.

The government area, the official center of the palace, comprised the throne hall and a number of buildings v,:hich housed government and administrative offices. The buildings here were naturally quite imposing and were geometrically situated in a layout that exuded orderliness. The area was further divided into the throne hall (ch6ngj6n), the state buildings or audience area (p'y6nj6n) and the royal quarters (ch'imj6n). National ceremonies such as coronations, receptions for foreign emissaries and New Year's greetings took place at the throne hall, the most impressive building that was the formal seat of government and symbol of national sovereignty, and on its spacious courtyard which was surrounded by long corridors.

The audience area was where the king and his high-ranking officials met every day to discuss routine agenda.

Whereas the throne hall was where the formal activities of government were conducted, the audience area was where the informal aspects of government were carried out. The royal quarters were in the government area, with 48

private quarters for the king and private quarters for the queen, in keeping with the rigid rules of Chos6n's Confucian-oriented court system.

The residential area was the space reserved for the royal family, concubines and their servants. Here the queen, the crown prince, the queen dowager and other high-ranking royal personages each occupied a cluster of buildings which formed a small palace within the palace. Each cluster was surrounded by a tall wall and secluded behind a gate. A labyrinthine maze separated one part of the palace from the other to ensure privacy and security. The living areas of the extant palaces have almost all been destroyed or damaged, thus their original appearance cannot be discerned.

The gardens where the royal family enjoyed their leisure hours amid a harmonious setting of lotus ponds, pavilions, woods and footpaths were usually located deep inside the palace and were closed to all but the royal family Representative of palatial gardens is the garden of Ch'angd6kkung, often called Piwon or the Secret Garden, an example of Chos6n landscape art at its best.

History of Kyongbokkung Ky6ngbokkung was expanded gradually to take on the proper appearance of a major palace. When Japan invaded Korea in 1592, the king and his retinue chose to give up fighting for the defense of the capital and fled to take refuge in the north. The townspeople, incensed by the king's flight, burned the palace to the ground. When the king and his court returned to Seoul after the war to find the palace beyond repair, Ch'angd6kkung and Ch'anggy6nggung were repaired to serve as the king's official residence. Kyongbokkung lay in ruins until it was reconstructed 273 years later in 1867. Reconstruction was delayed not only because of a lack of financial resources resulting from the ravages of the 1592~ 1598 war but also because succeeding kings suspected the site of the

palace was unpropitious.

Political power fell into the hands of several elite clans and the crown was rendered more or less impotent after the sudden demise of King Ch6ngjo (r.

176~ 1800), one of Chos6n's most powerful monarchs. In 1864, Kojong (r.

1863~ 1907) ascended the throne at a young age and his father, the Hungs6n Taewon-gun (Prince Regent), assumed direction of the government. It was the primary goal of the Taewon-gun to render the elite families powerless and to create a powerful monarchy The reconstruction of Kyongbokkung was an ambitious project he launched to symbolize the dignity of the royal house.

The palace that was reconstructed in the nineteenth century was a far cry from the Ky6ngbokkung constructed in the fourteenth century. Some 350 buildings with a combined .area of 7,225 kan stood on an area of over 40 hectares. The new palace was 18 times larger than the original 350-kan palace.

It was entirely different from the first one.

As there were not enough funds in the royal coffer to meet the staggering construction cost, the Taewon-gun levied special taxes on all social classes, including the elite yangban class who had hitherto enjoyed tax exemption.

He thus achieved the dual effect of raising funds and stripping the yangban class of its financial resources.

However, the kingdom was fragile by this time, its authority greatly undermined by the encroachment of Western powers and Japan, and a strong monarchy was an anachronistic idea.

The yangban class resented the heavy taxation and the construction of Ky6ngbokkung, which was to enhance the dignity of the throne, was ironically the primary cause of the Taewongun's undoing and the beginning of the downfall of the kingdom some 40 years later.

After it forcefully annexed Korea, Japan unremittingly and systematically vandalized Ky6ngbokkung, the symbol of Chos6n's sovereignty Members of

the royal family were relocated to Ch'angdokkung, and buildings totaling more than 4,000 kan were dismantled and sold to the general public. Many of the structures were moved to the foot of Namsan Mountain to be used as Japanese restaurants. When a fire destroyed many of the buildings in Ch'a ngdokkung in 1917, 200 more Kyongbokkung buildings including Kyot'aejon, the queen's living quarters, were dismantled and rebuilt in Ch'angdokkung.

Finally, in 1926, Kwanghwamun, the main gate of the palace, was removed, and an enormous building to house the Japanese government-general was constructed in front of Kunjongjon, the throne hall, the symbol of Korean sovereignty The building now houses the National Museum of Korea.

Mistreatment of Kyongbokkung continued even after the nation's liberation from Japan. A mammoth building which now houses the National

The five palaces in Seoul share the common feature of being composed of three areas: a government area, a residential area and a garden area. However, the composition and the relative orientation of the three areas are quite different in each palace.

Folk Museum was constructed on the eastern side of the palace grounds, which were gradually eaten away by road expansion in the surrounding

area. Eventually, Tongshipchagak, the watch tower at the southeast corner of the palace wall, was marooned in the middle of a city street, and Soshipchagak, its southwestern counterpart, was demolished completely The only visible effort toward the restoration of the palace is perhaps Kwanghwamun Gate, a concrete structure built in 1968 to hide the old Japanese government-general building, a constant reminder of Japanese colonialism.

The Ministry of Culture and Sports is presently conducting a massive excavation of the palace grounds to reveal the foundations of a great many buildings destroyed by the Japanese. The Ministry plans to remove the colonial government-general building and to restore major halls and buildings of Kyongbokkung so that the palace can once again be the symbol of the¡ Korean nation and the center of Seoul.

While most people support the plan, some are critical of the restoration.

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The throne in Kiinfongjon, the throne hall of KyiJngbokkung.

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The opponents argue that the symbol of Japanese aggression is part of history and a complete restoration of the palace is not only impossible but also impractical.

Architectural Plan of Kyongbokkung We have no way of knowing how the palace looked when it was first constructed. A block plan of the palace, drawn in the early twentiethth century, shows the palace after it was reconstructed in the nineteenth century Major halls and buildings were located in strict symmetry along the central axis stretching from Mt. Pugaksan to what is now Sejongno. The palace was surrounded by a high wall and had four main gates at the four cardinal points. Kwanghwamun in the south was the main gate, which was used by the king only Bureaucrats and members of the royal house were required to use K6nch'unmun in the east and Y6ngch'umun in the west.

The nucleus of the palace was located along the central axis with Kwanghwamun Gate, Hongnyemun Gate, Kunj6ngmun (middle gate), Kunj6ngj6n (the throne hall), Saj6ngj6n (p'y6nj6n, or the audience hall), Kangny6ngj6n (the king's residence), and Kyot'aej6n (the queen's residence) placed one after the other in that order.

Major government offices were clustered on both sides of this area in the foreground of the palace.

The residential area was a complex assortment of buildings clustered where the National Folk Museum now stands. All of them except Chagy6ngj6n Hall and Ch'6 ngy6nnu Pavilion were destroyed. The garden area was toward the back of the palace to the west of Kunj6ngj6n. It was divided into the palace garden centered around Ky6nghoeru Pavilion and the private royal garden centered around Hyangwonj6ng Pavilion. Official parties and banquets were held at Ky6nghoeru while the area around Hyangwonj6ng was reserved for the royal family only The pond by Ky6nghoeru is square 50

whereas the one in the middle of which Hyangwonj6ng stands is. curved with an irregular shoreline. Hamhwadang, Chipky6ngdang and P'aruj6ng, buildings in which the royal family relaxed and read books, still stand in the area. A little more than twenty buildings have survived the ravages of time and the palace has taken on the look of a spacious park, but in the nineteenth century it was packed with more than seventeen times as many buildings as there are today and, save the central area, formed a labyrinthine complex.

Of all the palaces of Chos6n, Ky6ngbokkung was the most faithful to the norm of palace architecture in layout.

Ch'angd6kkung, which also served as the seat of government for sometime, did not have a central axis of orientation due to its mountainous terrain; therefore the buildings were not located according to a set rule.

In tl)e government area of Ch'angd6kkung, the royal office and bed chamber stand on each side of the throne hall but are not symmetrically aligned. The residential area too is a cluster of buildings of irregular arrangement determined by the contour of the terrain. If organic asymmetry characterizes Korean architecture, we may say that Ch'angd6kkung is more Korean than Ky6ngbokkung in composition. But then, Ch'angd6kkung was constructed from the beginning as a secondary palace, a royal villa, with greater importance given to the creation of a spacious back garden. It is probable that architects were allowed more flexibility in the orientation of buildings because Ky6ngbokkung already served as the formal state palace and symbol of sovereign authority.

The systematic orderliness of Ky6ngbokkung warranted diversity in the layout of lesser palaces.

The central part of Ch'anggy6nggung, another of the minor palaces, is oriented to the east, a drastic departure from the Oriental system of palace architecture that stipulates a palace

should face south. Quite a number of people contended it should be reoriented to the south at the time Ch'anggy6nggung was reconstructed in the seventeenth century; but those with influence at the time attached more importance to the Ia y of the land and were able to override the considerable opposition so that it was left to face the east. This shows the importance of the topography and physical aspects of the land to Korean architecture.

The site of Ky6ngbokkung was actually chosen after all of the physical aspects of Seoul were studied and considered. A royal villa of Kory6 stood behind Ky6ngbokkung where Ch'ong Wa Dae, the presidential mansion, now stands. However, the site was rejected because geomancers advised that it was too cramped and its earth energy too depleted to accommodate a main palace.

Finding a propitious site was prerequisite to construction in the architecture of the past. A "propitious" site had a sizable mountain behind it, a spacious, sunny plain with a stream meandering across it in front, and mountains embracing it from a distance on the left and right.

Seoul was chosen as the capital because it met all these conditions. Needless to say, Ky6ngbokkung is on the most auspicious spot. To its rear is Mt. Pugaksan, a magnificent mass of rocks that enhances its augustness and without which it would have looked quite desolate. Mt. Namsan in the south provided a refreshing view and Ch'6nggyech'6n Stream, now covered and made into a road, flowed between the palace and Namsan. It is also embraced by Mt. Naksan in the east and the ridges of Mt. Inwangsan in the west. Beyond the boundary of Seoul, Mt. Samgaksan soared far in the north and Mt. Kwanaksan in the south with the great Han-gang River flowing in between.

Embraced by many mountains and rivers, the palace site was indeed "propitious." However, Mt. Kwanaksan in the south across the river exuded a powerful fire energy, which some in-

terpreted as a threat to the dynasty To protect against its energy, a pair of haet'ae, the mythical animal believed to eat fire, was erected on both sides of Kwanghwamun Gate. They still stand there, tangible evidence of how thoroughly the physical aspects of the land were analyzed for the construction of the palace.

Kiinjongjon Kunj6ngj6n, the throne hall, is the tallest and largest of all the Kyongbokkung structures. Its magnificent facade rising proudly on a two-stepped terrace is in striking contrast to the low corridor that encircles it. The spacious courtyard covered with coarsely hewn stones adds sobriety to the already heav y ambience. Three footpaths stretch across the courtyard along the central axis and are flanked by nine pairs of stone markers, each bearing the rank of a court official.

During an official event, the king would sit on his high throne inside the

hall and his officials would line up behind their relevant marker. Iron rings used to hoist up tents remain here and there in the courtyard. Royal guards stood in rank and file on the spacious terraces. The staircases at the front center of the terraces and the balustrades around the terraces are decorated with the twelve animals of the Oriental zodiac, leaves, clouds, phoenixes and other patterns. The bronze incense burners and iron pots at the front corners are for ceremonial purposes as well as to symbolically extinguish the fire energy ex uded by Kwanaksan.

The hall appears to be two stories when viewed from outside. Inside, the nave or central part is lined by¡ tall columns which are buttressed by lower columns along the walls. The floor is covered with cut stones. The royal throne is ensconced on a high dais which is made even more impressive by an ornate canopy. The ceiling is decorated with colorful tanch '6ng

painting and intricate carving. With a sturdy design and picturesque decoration, the hall is representative of late Choson architecture at its best.

Sajongjon Sitting behind Kunj6ngj6n and Sajongmun Gate, the one-story Saj6ngj6n was an audience hall where the king met his officials and presided over meetings. Whereas the throne hall with its spacious courtyard is on a monumental scale, the Saj6ngj6n area is on a human scale. Its lack of ornate decoration is in contrast with the ornateness of Kunj6ngj6n. A pair of dragons symbolizing the king are featured in a painting on the inside wall.

A building called Manch'unjon stood to the east of the hall but has been destroyed. Ch'unch'ujon, which stands to the west of the hall and would have been in symmetry with the nonexistent Manch'unjon, is modest in appearance, but the king and his officials used to discuss art and science here.

Sajongjon, the audience hall where the king met with his officials and presided over meetings.

51

Chagyongjon Built to accommodate the queen dowager, Chagyongjon is the only building with sleeping quarters remaining in Kyongbokkung. It is a complex of four structures totaling 44 kan. The bed chamber in the southwest corner has a room with a heatable floor (ondo{) for use in winter months, and a room with an elevated floor for use in summer months. The central part was the queen dowager's living quarters where she counselled on political matters. A 12-kan annex housed the dowager's ladies-in-waiting.

A multi-functional building, Chagyongjon is divided by sections protruding outside. The wall of its rear garden is decorated with abstract and geometric designs and has ten chimneys built into it. The chimneys are adorned with plants and animals that symbolize health and longevity

The inlaid brick walls of Chagyangfon (above), the hexagonal chimneys of Amisan Hill (below), Kyanghoeru, a two-story open pavilion (upperright), andHyangwonjong, a pavilion in a garden reserved for the royal family (lower right).

Amisan Hill and Kyonghoeru Kyonghoeru , an open two-story ~ pavilion, stands by a large square pond e; ::;; to the west of Kunj6ngj6n. The Amisan <(

52

Of all the palaces of Chason, Ky6ngbokkung was the most faithful to the norm of palace

~

architecture in layout

8i

~

Hill, which was the rear garden of Kyot'aejon, the queen's quarters, was made with earth removed from the pond.

The hill is stepped terraces of flower beds highlighted by hexagonal chimneys placed much like outdoor sculptural pieces. Quite befitting a queen's garden, it is one of the most beautiful areas in Kyongbokkung.

Foreign envoys were entertained at Kyonghoeru. The elevated pavilion appears to be floating near the east shore of the square pond. Because of its huge floor space, the roof had to be overly large even at the risk of dwarfing the understructure. Choson architects dealt with the problem by intentionally distorting measurements. By doubling the height of the lower story and using tall stone columns instead of wood, they succeeded in rendering the modest height and wood columns of the second story unnoticeable. Because of this yisual trick, the pavilion gives the optical illusion of a stable, singlestory building when seen from afar.

Hyangwonjong Whereas Kyonghoeru and__its environs were open to the court, the area centered around the exquisite Hyangwonjong Pavilion was reserved for the private use of the royal family The royal library and repository were located in this quiet, restful garden. The pond is irregularly shaped. The hexagonal pavilion stands on a manmade island. It has two stories and its hexagonal roof is topped by a bronze finial. The island is reached via a wooden bridge over the south of the pond, but the bridge was originally over the northern end. + 53

SEOUL'S ANCIENT BRIDGES SPANNING.THE WATERS AND THE CENTURIES Ban Young-hwan Editorial Advisor, The Seoul Shinmun.

Consultant, Commission for Cultural Properties

/

or a city celebrating its six hundredth anniversary, Seoul has very little left of its ancient structures. Except for the five much touted palaces and part of the wall that once enclosed the city and several of its gates, the modern metropolis of 11 million people has lost most of its vestiges of the Chason era (1392 ~ 1910) in the wake of urban development.

Ancient bridges are no exception. A map of Seoul produced around the end of the nineteenth century shows seventy-six bridges within the city wall and ten outside, but now only seven or eight of them exist.

Bridges were built to span streams and open ditches, and they were also regular fixtures of palaces and temple entrances. Whereas bridges for the use of commoners were simple and functional with little adornment, those in palaces were artistically constructed with ornately carved railings and arches. They also had grotesque faces or animal. figures for the dual purpose of ornamentation and frightening away evil spirits. The mythical haet'ae and dragon are found most frequently on palatial bridges.

54

9""' a nne Bridges near temple eni! A.l 0 !i trances are usually arched and Seoul produced 411 --I ~ â&#x20AC;˘ have rectangular stone piers. boo The decks are usually packed around the end W earth and the embankments at both ends are often simple piles of the nineteenth cen- of round stones.

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Palace Bridges A standard feature of palatial architectural layout and design during the six bridges within the Choson period was a stone bridge spancity wall and ten out- ning a stream in front of the throne hall. Yongjegyo in Kyongbokkung, Kumch'on-gyo in Ch'angdokkung and side, but now only Okch'on-gyo in Ch'anggyonggung are seven or eight of them examples of such bridges. They are in good repair, having been protected by palace walls. exist.

Yongjegyo is believed to have been Yongjegyo, one of Kyi)ngbuilt in 1395 when Kyongbokkung was bokkung's original bridges, constructed. It was originally located in Kiimch'on-gyo in Ch'angfront of Kunjongjon, the throne hall, dokkung, the railings of but it was removed during the conKiimch'on-gyo, and a stone struction of the Japanese governmentlion found on Yongjegyo general building (now the National Mu(clockwise from top left). seum of Korea), which Japan built to block the view of Kyongbokkung, the primary palace of Choson. The bridge was reduced to rubble and was long left abandoned in a corner of the palace. It was reassembled to span a stream near Kyonghoeru, a large pavilion on the grounds of Kyongbokkung, in 1965 and was then moved to its present location in 1974. However, the illfated bridge was not rebuilt in its original form: it was reduced from two arches to one to fit the stream at the new location.

Having been for the king's use only, even in its reduced scale, Y6ngjegyo is a dignified structure embellished with exquisitely carved octagonal railings that are supported. by twenty-two balusters. A stone unicorn gazes down at the stream from the granite bases of the arch. The bridge is 13.3 meters long and 10.3 meters wide.

In Ch'angdokkung, the Kumch'on Stream, which is fed by numerous little ~ brooks from the woods surrounding "'~ the palace, is spanned by the 12.9-meter-

long, 12.5-meter-wide Kumch'on-gyo, which has two arches. The oldest of the extant ancient bridges in Seoul, it is more like a sculpture than a footbridge owing to the exquisitely carved side panels of the balustrades. Hourglass designs are sculptured in high relief in the center of the panels and lotus patterns are carved in open work near the corners. There are five such panels in each balustrade.

A similar style of embellishment is found in the balustrade of Okch'on-gyo Bridge in Ch 'anggyonggung Palace.

The balusters are topped by ornately carved lotus buds and leaves. A dragon head with glaring eyes and bared teeth is carved at the bottom of each of the eight balusters. Another fearful face glowers menacingly between the arches on each side of the bridge. Koreans believed such grotesque faces could scare away evil spirits. Because of the masterful carving of the grotesque faces, the bridge is highly valued as a masterpiece of the Choson period's sculptural art. On the base of the arches below the faces crouches a stone turtle facing north and a stone haet'ae facing south.

They too are exquisitely sculptured.

A picturesque bridge spans a little brook just inside Honghwamun, the main gate of Ch'anggyonggung Palace.

This is Okch'on-gyo, another masterpiece <;>f Choson bridgework with exquisitely sculptured stone beasts, balusters and railings. It is rather small, 9.9 meters long and 6.6 meters wide. As Ch'anggyonggung was constructed in 1483 - 1484, the bridge is believed to have been built at that time. The bridge is supported by two arches. As with Kumch'on-gyo in Ch'angdokkung, a grotesque face is sculptured on the triangular space between the two arches. A stone beast is perched on the last baluster of each side. The stone panels between the lotus-bud topped balusters are beautifully decorated with reliefs and openwork designs.

The deck is divided into three lanes; a raised central lane bordered by rectangular stones, which was for the 55

Salgoji Tari on the Han-gang River

I

king's use, and two lower lanes, which were for others to use. Though the stones on the deck are weather-beaten, the bridge is still elegant and stately A delightfully dainty bridge spans the serene Hyangwonji Pond in Ky6ngbokkung. Named Ch'wihyanggyo (Fragrance Inebriated Bridge), the charming wooden bridge blends beautifully with the surrounding garden and lush lotus growing in the pond. The pond and the pavilion on the isle to which the bridge leads were constructed in 1873. The bridge is 32 meters long and 1.65 meters wide.

T6ksugung Palace also has a bridge near its entrance but it is not remarkable because it was made quite recently and is very simple.

Public Bridges Public bridges were mostly simple deck bridges without arches. A bridge was constructed by building piers and placing rectangular stones to crisscross each other on them. The stone structure supported the deck, which was formed by more rectangular stones 56

placed like boards. Decorative elements were minimal, the chief concern of the builders being practicality and sturdiness. Bridges for common use were thus characterized by simplicity Wooden bridges were predominant in Seoul until the city was made the national capital in the early Chos6n period. At that time, many were replaced with stone bridges because wooden ones were regularly swept away in floods. In the massive ditch construction undertaken in Seoul in 1412 and 1422, a stream from Mt. Pugaksan was rerouted to flow through the center of the city and beyond the city wall under Ogansu Bridge near Tongdaemun (East) Gate. Called Ch'6nggyech'6n, it has since been covered and made into a road over which the Samil Elevated Road now passes. The stream was spanned by seven bridges including the Sup'yogyo, Hyej6nggyo, Mojin-gyo and the large and small Kwangt'onggyo.

Since they were located in the center of the capital, they were built with proper comeliness.

Sup'yogyo is the only Ch'6nggye-

ch'6n bridge remaining. It was built at what is now Ch'6nggyech'6n 2-ga during the reign of King Sejong (r.

1418 - 1450) and removed to Changch'ungdan Park, where it still stands, when the stream was covered in 1959.

It became famous for a water marker (sup'yo) that was installed on it to measure the level of the stream after it was ~redg in 1760. It has twelve handsomely sculptured balusters on each side. The octagonal handrails on them are neatly hewn. The piers are made of two stones, one square and one hexagonal. Simple and .elegant, the Sup'yogyo is reputed to have been the most beautiful of the bridges on the Ch'6nggyech'6n.

Another well known Ch'6nggyech'6n bridge was Kwangt'onggyo which stood in what is now Mugyo-dong. It was buried when the stream was covered. Constructed in 1410, it was 14 meters long and 18 meters wide. Being in the busiest section of the town, it saw much action in its time. Together with the neighboring Sup'yogyo, it used to be packed with "bridge walkers" on the

"

First Full Moon when the bridge-treading custom was observed throughout the country.

Bridge treading (tari palki) is a custom which has been passed down from ancient times because it was believed that one could prevent leg (tari) trouble the whole year by walking on a bridge (tarz) under the First Full Moon.

It was a festive occasion with exuberant dancing and music while people milled about on the bridge. The custom was observed until the 1920s. It was re-enacted on Wonhyo Taegyo Bridge in February 1994 to mark Seoul's sixth centennial as the capital city Salgoji Tari on a tributary of the Han-gang in suburban Seoul was the longest bridge during the Chason period. It has fared poorly, however, being reduced to about half the size it was. The construction of the bridge began during the reign of Sejong but it was suspended because of floods which widened the river. It was completed sixty-three years later in 1483. It was 78 meters long and 6 meters wide. The stones used for the bridge were carried by boats. Originally named Cheban-gyo, it was a vital transportation point where the road forked to Kangwon-do in the east and to the provinces of Kyongsang-do and Cholla-do in the south.

The bridge is noted for its large stone piers planted in the river. The deck is made of stone laid systematically as if it were the floor of a house. The pier stones stand diagonally against the flow of the stream and their faces are chiselled in numerous streaks so as to reduce resistance to the flow of the water.

In praise of this bridge, Song Hyon, a well-known scholar-official of the early Chason period, wrote: "The bridge is as comfortable as if it were your own house and people walk on it as if it were

solid earth." The eastern half of the bridge, 84 meters long and 8 meters wide, is a recent concrete addition.

Pontoon Bridges on the Han-gang The Han-gang River was much too wide to be spanned by a bridge during the Chason period. The next best alternative was to build a pontoon bridge whenever there was a need for one, which was when the king had occasion to travel across the river. Some 800 boats were mobilized to form a temporary bridge for Yonsan-gun (r. 14941506) when he went on a hunting expe-

Sup'yogyo, which was built over Ch'onggyech'on in the mid-15th century.

dition to Mt. Ch'onggyesan. Chongjo (r.

1776-1800), famous for his filial piety, had a bridge made at the Noryang Ferry whenever he visited the grave of his father Crown Prince Sado. He even set up a "boat bridge office" to organize it.

A sturdy boat bridge needed at least 36 large boats and 400-500 small ones.

The big ones formed the basic bridge and the small ones stabilized it. The tallest and largest boats were at the center, followed by the next tallest and the next so that the bridge formed a slight arch. An example of a pontoon bridge is depicted in a painting titled King Ch6ngjo's Travel to the Tomb. Boat owners resented pontoon bridges because they required the mobilization of many private boats.

Bridges on the Han-gang Today The first of the modern bridges appeared on the Han-gang in 1900. It was a railway bridge constructed under the supervision of an American engineer beginning in 1896. Today, the Han-gang is spanned by twenty-two bridges, all but two of them in Seoul.

It is unfortunate that aesthetic considerations have almost always been overlooked in favor of utilitarian and financial considerations. For a long time Korea seemed destined to be without the beautiful, artistically built bridges that grace capitals of other countries.

Korean architects finally began to pay attention to bridge aesthetics with the construction of the Songsu Taegyo which was completed in 1979 and has a long span of 120 meters between piers. Perhaps the most aesthetic bridge is the Olympic Taegyo, built in commemoration of the 1988 Seoul Olympics. ~ Based on a contest-win~ ~'d ~ ning design, it is a sus~ pension bridge with a cable-stay tower with four posts which stand for the four seasons and the four compass points. Twenty-four cables, twelve on each side, symbolize the Twenty-fourth Olympiad, and the tower measures 88 meters to signify the ¡ 1988 Olympics. Aside from its symbolism, this newest bridge is the most eyepleasing of all the bridges across the Han-gang.

Korea's economic situation has improved vastly in recent years. Korea can now afford aesthetically designed bridges that are a pleasure to behold. It is time to revive the aesthetics and exquisite sculpture of ancient palace bridges in the construction of modern bridges, even though their sizes are vastly different. It would truly be a harmonious blending of tradition and modern art. +

57

Kim So-hi and Pak Tong-jin

Kim So-hi

Pak Tongjin

KOREAN A: Thank you for taking the time to talk with us. We realize how busy you must be, especially with all the activities planned for the Year of Korean Music. Perhaps we could start by discussing how you came to p'ansori as a career. Madame Kim, when did you start studying p'ansori?

KIM: I was around twelve, I think was born in Koch'ang, Ch6llabuk-do, but my older sister invited me to come and live with her family in Kwangju so that I could get a better education. One day as I was heading off for school, I saw some people setting up a tent for some kind of musical performance, and during class, I heard a beautiful sound echoing through the neighborhood. On my way home, I realized it was a performance by Yi Hwajungs6n, one of the most famous p'ansori singers of that era. She was

singing a scene from Shimch'6n[!ga . The content of the scene is so beautiful-it's almost like a poem. And Yi Hwajungs6n's voice was magnificent. If she had been born in the West, she would have been world famous. I was simply intoxicated by her voice. I couldn't move!

After hearing her, I tried singing my-

self-imitating what I'd heard that day Why-I was singing all the time. It made my sister so angry. She was constantly scolding me. She wanted me to study, not sing songs, but my brother-in-law intervened on my behalf. He saw that I had talent. And somehow he managed to introduce me to Song Man-gap (1867--:- 1939), the founder of the Chos6n Vocal Music Research Association and a great p'ansori vocalist who happened to be in Kwangju at that time. I studied with him there, then he invited me to come to Seoul. I was thrilled, and that's how I started.

KOREANA: What about you, Mr. Pak? PAK: When I was a young boy in Kongju, Ch'ungch'6ngnam-do, the Japanese ran everything, even the

P'ansori as a Way of Life 58

\

schools. I studied a traditional Korean curriculum in our village at first. I was a good student, though, so the local elders urged my parents to send me to school, and I started attending the elementary school in town. But you know what?

We were studying Chinese characters, and I noticed the teacher didn't know what he was talking about! I started laughing and the teacher came back and asked me why. In Japanese, of course.

So I told him: "You don't know how to write Chinese characters." After that he asked me to help him, and they let me skip a couple of grades. I did so well, the local elders helped me attend the best high school in Taejon, but all the other students were Japanese.

I was the youngest student, but I memorized everything in the textbooks at a single glance. I guess you could say I have a photographic memory. So there was nothing for me to study! I just stood in the back of the classroom-because I was a Korean.

Anyway, I began to wonder what was the point of going to school. It's not like the Japanese were going to let me become a government official or judge when I grew up. My parents had wanted me to become a government official, but I realized it was pointless. The whole system was unfair to the Korean students. So I went to the school administration and told them I wouldn't study there anymore, got my things and left.

But what was I going to do? There were so few opportunities for Koreans, but I decided I was going to learn something uniquely Korean. It was around that time that I first went to hear a p'ansori performance. Some famous singers happened to be performing at the theater in Taejon. I was thirteen at the time, and Won-gaksa, the big traditional music theater in Seoul, had just gone under. The music was incredible, and after ¡the performance I went to the inn where the singers were staying and asked them to teach me. They said I had to pay for my own food and clothes.

Well, I didn't have any money so I couldn't go with them.

KOREANA: How were p'ansori performers viewed at that time?

PAK: People treated them with great contempt. They were nothing more than itinerant entertainers as far as society was concerned. But I wanted to learn, so I went to another singer and asked him to teach me. I studied with him for a year and a half-cooking for him, planting his rice for him-but I soon realized he didn't have much to offer.

He taught me what he knew, then he started taking me around to perform, so he could make money!

I soon left him, but I didn't know where to go! Then a wealthy p'ansori enthusiast recommended I go to Seoul to study with ChOng Chong-yo!, one of the leading p'ansori masters at the Choson Vocal Music Research Institute.

KOREANA: Is that when you met

Madame Kim? PAK: Yes, I was about eighteen at the time, and she was such a beauty. Most of the students were boys, so the teachers really loved her. But I didn't dare go near her!

KIM: Besides, boys and girls didn't talk to each other in those days. If you were caught talking to a boy, they threw you out of the institute right then and there.

PAK: You know, when I think of what a wonderful young singer she was, I can't help but wonder why the Korean government doesn't choose younger people as "human cultural assets." What's the point of waiting until they're forty or fifty? [Kim was endowed with the title of "Human Cultural Asset" at the age of forty-seven in 1964. Pak was given the same honor in 1973 at the age of fiftyfive.] I've complained about that to the government but nothing's come of it.

KOREANA: What was the Chason Vo-

cal Music Research Institute like?

KIM: All the famous vocalists and instrumentalists taught there.

PAK: The teachers were gods to us.

We may not have obeyed our parents but we always obeyed our teachers. For us kids from the country it was a wonderful opportunity, but if we blew it, that was it!

KOREANA: The life of a p'ansori artist is so difficult Do you ever regret choosing a career in traditional music?

KIM: I'm embarrassed to say this in front of Mr. Pak, but it was quite easy for me. I had an innate talent for it, I guess, and I had the good luck of studying under the best teacher from the very beginning. But I do have one regret. I wish I had started a little bit later-that is, I wish I had finished my schooling before I started my musical career. I used to be so envious of the schoolgirls I saw on the streets of Seoul. I did study each morning before I went to practice my music, but I wish I had received a formal education. Of course, I learned to play traditional musical instruments at the institute, and I'd already learned to dance back home. P'ansori was my major.

KOREANA: Why did you choose to major in p'ansori?

KIM: Back then, no one studied traditional folk songs (minyo). Everyone could sing them, but p'ansori was a challenge. I guess that's what attracted me.

P'ansori is Korea's finest form of art.

KOREANA: What was your greatest

moment?

KIM: I think 1972 was my best year. I was fifty-five at the time. My voice was strong and I understood what music was all about. Frankly, I didn't know what made good music when I was young.

KOREAN A: Mr. Pak, you're famous for knowing the words to all the extant p'ansori works. Do you still remember them?

PAK: I've always had a good memory 59

and I've practiced a lot. They just come out when I start to sing. It's as if the score were flashing before my eyes as I sing. I have a total of one hundred eighty hours of p'ansori in my head-eight hours of Ch'unbyangga, seven hours of Shimch'6ngga, five hours of Hungboga, six hours of Ch6kpy6kka, four hours of Sugungga. . . It goes on and on. I have to practice at least three hours a day-or I forget.

had nothing. People drank human feces for swelling. It smelled disgusting but it worked!

KOREANA: P'ansori must be very taxing on the throat. Do you take any special precautions to protect your voice?

KOREANA: I believe you hold the record for the longest p'ansori performance.

PAK: Yes, back in 1973 I sang for nine hours and forty minutes straight.

KIM: Oh no, now you'll have everyone thinking we all do that kind of thing!

PAK: After a long performance like that, you have to be careful. You need to walk it off. I always walk after a performance. After all, most of the p'ansori works are at least three or four hours long.

Some teachers insist on using the methods their own teachers used, because that's how they were taught.

That's what worries me.

Teachers must transcend their own experiences and offer their students

PAK: Yes, especially the women.

KIM: Oh yes, it's terribly exhausting.

Frankly, I think the human body wasn't made to work so hard. P'ansori is particularly difficult-it goes up and down, and you need to regulate the sound so carefully. I wouldn't try to sing for as long as he did. Not even when I was young. I'm opposed to that sort of thing. The human body has its limits! What's the point? Our friend Mr. Pak is a very special case!

PAK: Yes, but I hate to stop! I get going and I just can't stop. You know, I'd like to die up there on the stage singing.

It's not easy singing for such long stretches, though. You try yelling for ten hours! Your chest starts aching and your hands and feet swell up. It's unbelievable!

KIM: I agree, it's exhausting. But please don't tell them that you spit up blood or eat human excrement after per60

KOREANA: The government bas designated 1994 the Year of Korean Music in an effort to promote a greater interest in Korea's indigenous music.

something more.

Thai's their responsibility. -Kim

I

KOREAN A: It must be bard for some of your younger students to sing so long

PAK: Well, Madame Kim was born with a beautiful voice, but people like me have to practice every single day to maintain our voices.

Kim: What are you talking about?

No, everyone needs to sing every day. If you don't practice, you can't reach the notes. That's why you have to warm up a bit each morning, then practice again later in the day.

formances! People spread these incredible rumors about p'ansori.

PAK: I never spat up blood, and while I did drink some human excrement once, I did it because in the old days people believed it had medicinal effects. I would never recommend it to my students! It had nothing to do with my throat.

You see, a long time ago my teacher boasted of singing for one hundred hours straight. That's how he mastered p'ansori. Of course, I believed him, so I went up into the mountains-that's the only place you could sing without bothering other people-and tried doing the same thing. I was around thirty at the time, and I figured the more practice the better.

KIM: A lot of people have ruined their voices that way.

PAK: Well, I sang eighteen hours a day for forty-five days, and my body swelled up and I couldn't even move my arms. Nowadays there are medicines to treat such conditions, but back then we

KIM: People like us began studying Korean music when there was a real interest in it, but over the last fifty years there has been a gradual decline in popularity as new types of music and entertainment have been introduced from abroad. It's only recently that people have begun to take some interest in traditional music again. But that doesn't mean .we can teach our students the way we were taught. Times have changed.

People won't study like that anymore.

Some teachers insist on using the methods their own teachers used, because that's how they were taught. .That's what worries me. Teachers must transcend their own experiences and offer their students something more. That's their responsibility.

KOREANA: At times, it seems as if p'ansori bas received a more enthusias-

tic reception in the West Overseas there is a growing interest in p'ansori as a musical and literary genre. Why is that?

KIM: I guess you could say they

sense something universal in the music and want to learn more about it.

KOREANA: What lies ahead for Ko-

rean music in this age of increasing internationalization?

PAK: Naturally I'm happy that the government has established the Year of Korean Music. It reflects a growing interest in our music. However, professional musicians like ourselves have to decide how best to utilize this opportunity. The Year of Korean Music-It's a time for introspection and planning. What have we been doing with Korean music in the past? What are we going to do in the future? I can't help wondering whether the organizers haven't bitten off more than they can chew, though. I want to do something special, but look! It's May already!

KIM: On the one hand, I'm thankful for the attention being given Korean music this year, but on the other hand, I'm concerned about the sudden interest.

Korean music has been ignored for years, so frankly all this attention disgusts me. These people couldn't have cared less for what happened to Korean music in the past. And on top of that, Korea's artists have all lived such diffi- cult lives they're desperate for any attention and compensation they can get. As a result, many people have seen the Year of Korean Music as an opportunity to get a piece of the pie that they've been missing over the years. Very few people are interested in art for art's sake.

My position is this: There seems to be a vague but growing interest in Korean music now. It's clear from the success of the film S6p'y6nje. People are interested in rediscovering things Korean. That's wonderful. Clearly the people who made S6p'y6nje were very lucky. They had good timing. But they didn't make that film ¡ out of a love for p'ansori. It was a business proposition to them.

What are they going to do for Korean music in the future?

On the other hand, 0 Ch6ng-hae, the young woman who starred in that film,

You know...

I can't help but wonder

that Korean music is part of our tradition. It's in our blood. We have to teach them and show them what it's all about.

If my health were better, I would like to teach p'ansori to young people. One of my former students has started a p'ansori camp for children aged five to nine. They learn theory and history as well as singing and instrumental music.

PAK: Teaching is definitely one of our most important tasks. Nowadays people think it's easy to become a p'ansori singer. They've watched too many television shows and movies. Lots of people come to me to study, but I end up sending most of them away after hearing them sing. People may criticize me for this, but I believe p'ansori wasn't meant to be a hobby. Not everyone can do it.

why the Korean government doesn't choose younger people as "human cultural assets."

KOREANA: What has been your most rewarding experience?

What's the point of waiting until t.hey're forty or fifty? -Pak

was my student. She is extremely gifted, but she hasn't achieved true greatness yet, and now she's tangled up in this film business. I can't help but be disappointed. I'm old and sick. I loved her and taught her like my own granddaughter, so it's .a great disappointment that she's given up her studies. She has a lot of potential.

PAK: Yes, she definitely has potential.

I'd say she's one in a hundred thousand.

I'd like to see her give up films and dedicate herself to music. I told her to beg Madame Kim's forgiveness and start studying again.

KIM: As for the Year of Korean Music, I realize that it's a rare opportunity that won't come again, but we can't afford to simply make a big splash, then ignore Korean music again. Some people love Korean music. Some people hate it.

And some people don't know anything about it. We have to help them understand what Korean music is all about.

We have to go to the villages, go to the neighborhoods and make people realize

KIM: For me, it was my second tour of the United States. The first time in 1964 I didn't know what was going on, but the second time in 1972, I sensed a true rapport with the audience. Generally speaking, I don't use a lot of gestures (norumse) in my singing. I get embarrassed. But when I was in the United States, I realized that Westerners are much more expressive, so I made a special effort to use more norumse to help the audience understand the story and feeling of the song. I happened to be performing the scene from Shimch'ongga where Shimch'6ng throws herself into the sea. Now, I could hardly throw myself across the stage, so I flung my fan instead, and the audience went wild.

That's when I realized I was pretty good at this. The performance was incredible.

I felt as if I could do anything.

KOREANA: What a magnificent experience that must have been! Hopefully many young Korean performers will have similar experiences thanks to your dedication and instruction. Thank you for sharing your experiences with us. +

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JOURNEYS IN KOREAN LITERATURE

The Poetry of

KuSang Consonance of Existence and Eternity s Korea's poetry developed in the modern period, it diverged into three general streams: traditionalism, modernism and realism. Traditionalist poetry consists of lyrical poems in which Korea's unique sensibility, thinking and poetic format figure prominently. Early in the modern period, this school dashed with the modernist school, a Western European import, but later came to embrace some modernist elements. Poets of the socialist realist school, influenced

by Eastern European literary trends, called for reforms of Korean society during the late 1920s, but their efforts were stymied by the repressive Japanese colonial rulers.

After Korea was liberated from Japan in August 1945, there was a period of intense conflict between poets belonging to the so-called Writers League, who championed socialist realism, and proponents of traditionalism. However, the former group moved to North Korea following the division of the Korean Peninsula. Now, some South Korean poets advocate critical realism, calling for the exposure and correction of social inequities and imbalances in the distribution of wealth and at times even hinting at class revolution through socialist realism; this, however, is not a major trend in South Korean poetry.

Ku Sang transcends the three previously mentioned categories to pioneer his own unique literary world. As a result, he has become one of Korea's most

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Kim Bong-goon Professor, Korean Literature Songsim Women's University

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llotdisplay the flash)' decorative eletnents found in many poets' works. He minimizes rhetoric and goes straight to the point.

respected and trusted poets.

Ku Sang was born in Seoul in 1919, the year that the Korean people rose in protest against Japanese colonial rule. It was a period of great change in Korea's literary world with lyrical poetry, novels and drama being written by members of the growing bourgeoisie. Born to devout Catholic parents, missionaries who had founded a school at the Benedict Monastery, Ku moved with his family to Wonsan in Hamgyongnam-do Province when he was a small boy. His literary career began in 1946 when several of his poems were published in a volume of poetry put out by the Wonsan Writers League. Ku was forced to flee North Korea, however, when a

communist literary critic attacked his work, calling it too idealistic and unrealistic. Upon arriving in the South, Ku developed a rich poetic world based in part on his bitter experiences, including the Korean War.

Ontological Recognition Ku Sang's poetic language is extremely clear for he uses very direct and candid expressions. Some readers unfamiliar with his work make the mistake of assuming his work is simply idealistic. Indeed, his poems appear to lack the tension the "New Critics" value so highly. Ku Sang's poetry does not display the flashy decorative elements found in many poets' works. He minimizes rhetoric and goes straight to the poinL There are two reasons for this: one, his fundamental rejection of linguistic artifice-that is his renunciation of clever surface embellishment-and two, his conviction that a balance must be achieved between poeticsymbolism and truth. Artifice or euphuism is one of the ten evils found in Buddhist thought. Ku's poetry eschews ornate language which does not convey truth directly. He shares Martin Heidegger's analogy that modern society is "the darkness of existential oblivion," and rejects modernist linguistic techniques that depend on emotional expression while ignoring the pursuit of truth or Editor's Note: All translations of poems am

by Brother Anthony unless otherwise indicated

existential meaning. Ku is particularly apprehensive about the composition of surrealist poetry, which he likens to drawing a ghost. Since no one has ever seen a ghost, one can draw whatever strikes one's fancy. How can poetry win the sympathy of its readers if it has no basis in reality?

The tension found in Ku Sang's po~ms cannot be understood in a simple semantic dimension. It only comes alive when the reader perceives the existential significance hidden deep within. For example, his 55-poem "Christopher's River" cycle does not refer to the simple flow of water one finds in the dictionary definition of "river." Rather, it is a mirror of his existence and history, his life and character, all that he has experienced and hopes to reveal. This poem resolves the conflict between "time" and "eternity" to embrace the contradictions of existence and nonexistence, violence and kindness, constraint and freedom, creation and extinction, and ultimately harmonize them. Ku's river portrays the past, present and future as a course of historical continuity, in which eternity harmonizes with the present.

Ku's "river" embodies an "encounter" between man, nature and God. The modern tragedy is born of detachment-man's detachment from nature, from his fellow human beings, from a \ single god. In his poetry, Ku Sang attempts to achieve a miracle-encompassing all things within the "true self."

The "river" constitutes the metamorphosis of Ku's life. Men and women, the young and the old, priests, literary scholars, painters, monks, people from every walk of life gather around him.

The incarnations of such diffuse and chaotic existences join to harmonize within this "man of worldly holiness."

And the "river," like the ideal expressed in the Avatamsaka Sutra, moves onward toward eternity as a symbol of equality Ku reveals an eternity corresponding to the "impermanence" ( musanf) born of "creation and existence."

The river harmonizes time and eternity;

KuSang

One senses in Ku's poems the spiritual ties linking man to nature, to his fellow human beings, and to a divine god.

But how did Ku's poems come to encompass such spiritual and universal vision, such a broad basis for orderly encounter, such a capacity for harmony and accommodation?

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it actually is time and eternity, not a simple symbol.

"Myself" best reflects Ku's existential reality.

It is . .. more than the deep-sea fish of six senses and seven sins that waves its tail like a night-time shadow on a window pane more, too, than star-dust littering the yards of Original Sin and Karma, passing through the obscure darkness of the potter's kiln ... more, too, than the substantiality such fullness gives, and more than its opposing nihility, more, too, than unknown death more, greater, a soundless cosmic shout!

An immensity embracing Eternity! /

Myself Many terms used in this poem are religious. "Six senses" (yukki:in), "obscure darkness" (mumy6ng or the Sanskrit avidhya) and Karma (6ppo) belong to the Buddhist tradition, while "seven sins" (ch'ilchoe) and "Original Sin" come from the Christian tradition.

YukkUn refers to the six sensory organs recognized in Buddhism-the eyes, nose, ears, tongue, body and will. Mumy6ng refers to ignorance of the truth, a clouding by secular troubles and a lack of awareness of the essence of Buddhism, and 6ppo refers to retribution for deeds in a former life. Ch'ilchoe refers to the seven sins mentioned in Catholic doctrine and "Original Sin" to human sin deriving from Adam and Eve's defiance of God's orders. "Myself" reveals the poet's broad universe, a universe that transcends and embraces the spiritual worlds of Buddhism and Christianity.

This is his "linguistic spirit," the core of his poetic world.

64

One senses in Ku's poems the spiritual ties linking man to nature, to his fellow human beings, and to a divine god.

But how did Ku's poems come to encompass such a spiritual and universal vision, such a broad basis for orderly encounter, such a capacity for harmony and accommodation? I believe the answer to this question lies in his family background, childhood environment and religious beliefs. While attending the Minor Seminary attached to the Benedict Monastery, Ku often contemplated life, nature and God as he walked through the quiet woods nearby. Later, he was influenced by the lectures of the Buddhist monks and Christian ministers who taught theology at Nihon University in Japan. Thus, Buddhism and Protestantism became part of Ku's spiritual world, which had until then been fed on Catholicism. Ku was also deeply moved

by Gabriel Marcel's concept of existentialism-going beyond one's personal experience to achieve a transcendental universal existence, and then overcoming abstractionism to concentrate on the investigation of the human condition. He was also influenced by the philosophies of Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu, and the poet 0 Sang-sun's Zen concept of the universe. Ku has been able to harmonize the philosophies of East and West in his poetry because of his personal exposure to various beliefs.

As I have noted already, Ku Sang's poetry constitutes a search for the essence of being. He does not write on impulse or from a momentary perception. His poetic search is most often revealed in a cycle of many poems.

"Wastelands of Fire" (1956), "Diary of the Fields" (1967), "The Crow" (1981), "Even the Knots on Quince Trees" (1984), "Christopher's River" (1986), and "Infant Splendor" (1990) are masterpieces born of Ku's meditative attitude, his unending struggle to illuminate the tragic significance of being.

"Wastelands of Fire" testifies to the tragedy of the Korean War through the poet's love for his country and humanity. "Diary of the Fields" is an allegorical

study of self-discipline expressed in an agr icultural metaphor. "The Crow" points out the dangers posed by the contradictions and rampant materialism of our industrial and technological era.

"Even the Knots on Quince Trees" is a confessional bearing witness to the sickness and death that have characterized Korea 's turbulent modern history.

"Christopher's River" reveals the inner truth, penitence and sacrifice of human existence. "Infant Splendor" depicts the purity of the young and innocent.

Life as Temporal Experience As a Catholic, Ku Sang views secular existence as a "temporal life"-an existence in the earthly world that precedes eternal life in paradise. In many of his poems, he speaks of "a freedom of the mind" which recognizes and transcends the futility and emptiness of our secular existence. He resembles a Zen Buddhist in many ways, but at the same time, he senses the disparity between "being" and "what ought to be" and reprimands himself for his alienation. Ku is extremely harsh on himself, both ethically and religiously, and always truthful. These personal characteristics are reflected in his poems. He is one of the few Korean poets to write as a true penitent.

I have spent today, that source of mystery, today, wallowing in the dirt. ("Christopher's River, 10") Our time on earth is as clear, as pristine, as refreshing as a mountain spring.

When the poet considers the mystery of the great power that makes this possible, he senses his own life and poetry are nothing more than waste water, dirty and contaminated. Ku never beautifies or embellishes his own life. He never hints of a split between his poetic self and his true self.

Ku is a virtuous Christian who sees through to the truth of his inner mind, and therefore does not judge a life by external appearances alone. He sheds

light on the truth, the reality of our paradoxical existence in which the ugly is hidden behind the holy, the holy behind the ugly. We can, therefore, say his concept of mankind is similar to that of Francois Mauriac, Georges Bernanos and Graham Greene.

Ku Sang is painfully ashamed of humanity's spiritual degeneration. In "Shame," he searches for the ignominious face of man in a zoo.

In the zoo, peering between bars and netting I search for an animal that knows what shame is .. .

Since shame has vanished from the people of this city, I've come to the zoo to look for it As he struggles to walk the path of a Christian, Ku laments our shameless existence, this life spent wading through a lake of seven sins.

Ku Sang's perception of life expands to include a historical consciousness.

While many Korean intellectuals were bickering over E. H. Carr's What Is History?, Ku wrote the following in "Even the Knots on Quince Trees."

All modes of life, great and small, Are nothing more than the trials and errors, the failures of past generations.

(Tr. Julie Pickering) Here Ku recalls Karl Lowith, the German philosopher who was chased through seventeen countries after fleeing Hitler's rule. Lowith called secular world history "a repetition of painful failures," "a record of sins and death, defeats and frustration."

Ku Sang reveals his philosophic belief in spiritual resignation in "From Dreyfus' ' Bench-Convict Jean's Soliloquy." Jea'n awakens us to the futility of escape: "You see, I have come to realize that this world is all a prison, no matter where you go, and that all people without exception are convicts in it." Ku

clearly sees our secular world as a temporary residence. However, his despair over secular history does not mean he has lost hope. Ku believes in historical justice, a belief derived from his faith in redemption through a god, the ruling force in history.

Trusting that justice will triumph, eternal, trusting that suffering accepted has value, trusting that our love and hope are not vain,

Ku attempts to illuminate the mysterious significance hidden within human existence and natural phenomena. His concept of being which views all things in the world, even

not putting on heroic airs, with nothing to show but a cripple's grace, just as he walked alone on the way of Resurrection, so I too must walk alone.

This passage from "As He Walked Alone" portrays the poet walking a lonely -and humble road as he struggles to realize ¡the justice of history and resurrection, depending on and trusting in his own Christian belief, hope and love.

Ku's spiritual greatness is expressed in his healthy perception of history and love of mankind. In "Before a War Cemetery of North Korean Dead," Ku buries a North Korean soldier and weeps, unable to hold back the love and compassion he feels for his brethren. As a Christian, an enemy is simply a subject to be purified and persuaded, not a material object to be cursed and eliminated. Those who worship power and heroism, who believe might makes right, burn with hatred for their enemies. They do no~ hesitate to commit mass murder, to trample on their brothers' land in the name of a "false justice."

Following liberation from Japanese rule, many poets and intellectuals were taken in by this propaganda and paid homage to communism in their work, only to regret it later. Ku Sang rings a warning bell to these poets. He is not a simple artisan; he is a priest, a prophetic intellectual. After World War II, many

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the thinnest blade of grass, as a projection of eternity, integrates East Asian and Western thought, light and darkness, existence and nonexistence, and life and death.

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Korean poets sang of liberation and predicted a brilliant future for their country, but Ku wrote prophetically of the communists, of the worshipers of violence as frightening "crows."

Ku is a priestlike intellectual and poet, but he has refused to become directly involved in politics, despite the pleading of his friend, the late President Park . Chung-hee. He has chosen the path of the poet over that of a politician. He has chosen to remain a member of the press, a thinker, a religious man and a professor. He has also contributed to international cultural exchanges as a literature professor at the University of Hawaii, and still serves as a visiting professor at the department of creative literature at Chungang University.

Religious Imagination T. S. Eliot once said that every great literature has its own spiritual pillar.

What is the spiritual pillar supporting Ku Sang's poetry? One could say it is his religious imagination based on Catholicism and his vision of the universe. As noted earlier, Ku Sang was born to a devout Catholic family but learned of Buddhism and Protestantism during his university years, and was influenced by the ideology of Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu through his spiritual mentor, the poet 0 Sang-sun. In other words, Ku's poetic imagination derives from a genuine belief in Catholicism that embraces other doctrines and transcends the boundaries of Eastern and Western religions.

As the cataract of ignorance falls from off the eyesight of my soul, I realize that all this huge Creation round about me is the Word.

In this, the first stanza of "The True Appearance of the Word," mumy6ng, a Buddhist term for ignorance, is used alongside the expression "the Word" as found in the Gospel of St. John. "In All Places" blends Buddhism and Christianity even more freely. And the poet confirms his belief while seeking and feel66

ing God's presence. Buddhist images, such as a lotus pond and a hillside temple, and Taoist phrases, such as "Taoist Mountain Wizards," reflect the East Asian roots of this poem. It could evoke a theological discussion of the many issues involved in general revelation. However, Ku's eclecticism mirrors Catholicism's recognition of regional cultural differences and reflects a harmonization of Eastern and Western thought.

"The True Appearance of the Word" is thoroughly Korean, thoroughly East Asian in its poetics, background and ambience. In it, the poet searches for God within a peaceful East Asian conception of nature. It shows how open Ku Sang's poetic spirit and imagination are. A universal god of lawfulness is everywhere. Ku searches for a god who exists in the many metamorphoses of the Bodhisattva, in Korea's mountain temples, in the green forests, in the snow~cverd mountain peaks, in the moonlit 'river, in the frostbitten branches, in fields glittering golden in the sunset, in the distant horizon. The natural beauty depicted by Ku differs from the sensational images of modernist poets.

His religious belief is open and tolerant, so his poetic imagination can encompass a universal vision. If Jesus had given the Sermon on the Mount on top of Soniksan Mountain, he surely would have chosen azaleas or autumn leaves as objective correlatives instead of lilies.

Prospects for Development Humanity has been distancing itself from a natural paradise since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, and now we stand at the threshold of what could be called a technological paradise.

Nowhere do we find the social utopia that humankind has been dreaming of for so long. Ku Sang admonishes modern materialistic society for its fixation on technical and strategic values and its disregard for the essential values of loyalty, conscience and love, which are so essential to a humane existence.

Through his concept of life, history and

universal vision, based on Catholicism, Ku tries to correct the errors of modern society and history.

His poetry creates a poetics of harmony and interaction in which all humanity becomes one in belief, hope and love. To achieve this, Ku attempts to illuminate the mysterious significance hidden within human existence and natural phenomena. His concept of being, which views all things in the world, even the thinnest blade of grass, as a projection of eternity, integrates East Asian and Western thought, light and darkness, existence and nonexistence, and life and death. His poems transcend other philosophical attempts to explain the significance of individual lives and history, such as causality, evolution, or dialectical materialism. His poems, created through the apprehension of such truth, reconcile "you" and "I" to create a greater "you" in salvation and redemption.

Ku Sang's poe ms integrate East Asian reflection and the Christian idea of eternity in symbols of nature-rivers or fields-and at times are allegories.

But whether focusing on natural phenomena or the significance of life and history through the harmonization of religious and metaphysical truth, Ku Sang deserves to be called a great Korean poet of this age for his repentant poetic, spirit.

With its unclouded language and integration of Western religion, traditional Korean culture, Buddhism and the philosophies of Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu, Ku Sang's poetry has u.niversal appeal. It is only natural, therefore, that his poems have been translated and introduced throughout the Western world. The fine translations of Brother Anthony (Wastelands of Fire [London and Boston: Forest Books, 1989], Infant Splendor [Seoul: Samseong, 1990], and A Korean Century, River and Fields [London and Boston: Forest Books, 1991]) and Roger Leverrier (Terre Brulee [Paris: Thesaurus, 1986]) testify to the appeal of Ku Sang's work. +

KOREAN ARTISTS ABROAD

A "W"onder That Goes Beyond -w-underkind Kim Yong-woon Staff Writer

The Cbosun Ilbo

here is probably no word as overused in the music world as "wunderkind" or "child prodigy." From Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in the eighteenth centurg to violinists Yehudi Menuhin and Anne-Sophie Mutter, and pianist Evgeni Kisin in modern times, people have not hesitated to attach the word "prodigy" to the names of musicians who began to shine in their youth.

Why of all the arts, including the fine arts, film and drama, have there been so many geniuses in the music world? Probably because they stand out. They are always in the public eye, performing in front of audiences and facing appraisal and criticism. In the world of music, there are countless geniuses and many more are being born right now.

The prodigy label has also been given to Korea's very own young violinist Chang Young-ju, or Sarah Chang as she is known in the West. The title may be a bit stale from overuse, but with Sarah Chang it retains its value. If the 1970s belonged to Anne-Sophie Mutter and the 19BOs to Goto Midori, then the 1990s surely belong to Sarah Chang.

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Though her violin skills put her in the genius class, in other respects she is like any other child. She goes to regular school and studies and plays with children of her own age. In contrast, Anne-Sophie Mutter of Germany stopped receiving a regular education in the fourth grade to study music.

Perhaps it is because she appears normal in all respects that the world music community is recognizing 13-yearold Sarah Chang as a child prodigy in the truest sense of the term.

It was in 1989, at age eight, that Sarah astounded the music world by appearing as guest performer with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra under the baton of Zubin Mehta. At the time she played Paganini's Violin Concerto No.1, which requires the highest level of technique. Her performance prompted conductor and violinist Yehudi Menuhin to say, "Such a child prodigy comes along only once every hundred years."

What is the secret of this young girl who at age four began to play a violin one-sixteenth normal size, at age nine recorded her first album, and now at age thirteen has mastered a repertoire

that the average performer would have difficulty attaining by the age of thirty?

Critics say the pillars of Sarah's success are her childlike innocence and a very unchildlike aloofness. People who meet Sarah Chang are first astonished at her age, and then at her ability.

It is hard to find another genius in modern history who has Sarah's unique combination of innocence and detachment, naivete and perfection.

One need only look at the press reviews to get an idea of how the world music community views this young virtuoso. "A wonder that goes beyond wunderkind." (Berliner Zeitung Germany) "Enchanted, devilish Sarah."

(Berliner Morgenpost, Germany) The Bild Zeitung went even further. "A battle of applause ensued between the members of the orchestra and the audience," it said in regard to Sarah's performance of Paganini this January 6-8 with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Zubin Mehta.

Sarah is no longer a child when it comes to her career. She has already played with the five biggest orchestras in the United States-the New York,

Why of all the arts, including the fine arts, film and drama, have there been so many geniuses in the music world?

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Chicago, Boston, Cleveland and Philadelphia orchestras. This year she has also enjoyed success in Europe, the home of classical music, playing with the Berlin Philharmonic in January, the French National Orchestra in February, and performing Tchaikovsky with the Gewandhaus Orchestra under the master Kurt Masur in Leipzig in March.

In April, Sarah made a successful debut on the London stage while touring with the Gewandhaus Orchestra. At the time, the London performances were called the "battle of the geniuses," as Anne-Sophie M\.ltter, Viktoria Mullova and Sarah Chang took turns being guest performers. On the night of Sarah Chang's performance, Princess

What is unique about Sarah's success is that it has been achieved in such a short time and without undue strain and effort.

One could actually say it came about "naturally."

Anne hosted a reception, focusing all attention on the young musicians.

Sarah's genius is also reflected in her recorded performances. Her first album was released at the time of her stage debut. She has released three records on the EMI label and has concluded a contract to record at least three more with major orchestras.

Sarah's first album, which contains short pieces by Paganini and Prokofiev and is entitled simply Debut, is no ordinary album: It is in the Guinness Book of World Records for being recorded by the youngest artist ever and for recording pieces on a violin one-fourth the size of a regular violin.

It also hit Billboard's classical bestseller 74

chart immediately upon release.

Sarah's third album, a recording with Wolfgang Sawallisch and the Philadelphia Orchestra, was recently released. She is scheduled to make her fourth album with Charles Dutoit, her fifth with Ricardo Mutti and her sixth with the Berlin Philharmonic.

Sarah also has an impressive collection of awards. In 1993, she won the Young Artist Award given by Gramophone magazine of England for her second album of Tchaikovsky violin concertos recorded with the London Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Colin Davis. At the second Classical Music Awards this past January, she won the New Artist Award given by BBC and the influential newspaper the Independent. And in March, Sarah became the third recipient of the Germany Echo prize established by the Phono Academy which is composed of six major world recording companies, including EMI and BMG, and the network ZDF. The previous winners of this award were violinists Nigel Kennedy and Anne-Sophie Mutter.

Ordinarii y, a performer with the right amount of persistence and talent and a bit of luck could quite possibly achieve the same results. But what is unique about Sarah's success is that it has been achieved in such a short time and without undue strain and effort. One could actually say it came about "naturally."

As such, the genius of Sarah Chang has now reached beyond the music community; she is considered one of the geniuses of the present age. In its June 28, 1993 issue Newsweek ran a feature article which delved into the secrets of genius. Sarah Chang was selected as one of twenty geniuses of the twentieth century, along with Einstein, Picasso and Van Gogh.

She was born in Philadelphia in De-

cember 1980 to Chang Min-su, a violinist, and Yi Myong-sun. Sarah's father is a graduate of Seoul National University's school of music and was formerly the first-chair violinist with the National Orchestra (now the KBS Orchestra).

He was the youngest person ever to win the grand prize at the Dong-A Concours in Seoul and is now teaching music at Temple University in Philadelphia.

Sarah's mother graduated from Kyonggi Girl's High School and majored in composition at Seoul National University. She now lectures on composition at Swarthmore College.

Sarah's parents first went to the United States in 1979 as students.

Sarah was born the next year. Her parents had no intention to turn Sarah into a musician. But one day, an incident gave her father a clue as to what the future might hold for her.

"I think it was when Sarah was two.

After watching a cartoon on TV, she made her way to the piano and started to reproduce the theme music. I was startled. I had no idea that Sarah had a musical ear. After that she would play cartoon tunes and commercial jingles.

Sometimes when I would watch her dancing by herself, I would say to myself, 'This kid's a real mystery!' As parents we were happy to watch her develop. . When she was three her mother began to teach her piano. But Sarah kept playing with my violin. She seemed to like it so much that we bought her a toy one, one-sixteenth the real size, for her fourth birthday."

One year later, Sarah Chang gave her first public performance playing Bruch and Mozart. Then her father asked Dorothy DeLay, the Julliard professor who taught Midori and Cho Liang Lin, to have a look at Sarah.

On hearing Sarah play a violin concerto, DeLay said, "I have seen many children, but I have never seen one like this." She offered to teach Sarah, who was six at the time.

The start of special lessons did not mean that Sarah gave up everything

else for music. During the week she played and studied with her classmates at Friends School in Germantown, Philadelphia and on Saturdays she went to New York for her lessons with DeLay at the Julliard preparatory school.

Sarah's actual professional debut happened in a rather spectacular way when she was eight. It came about after a meeting with Zubin Mehta, then standing conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

In 1990, Mehta began to hear talk about the child genius Sarah Chang and asked Dorothy DeLay if he could hear her play. Teacher and pupil were invited to Mehta's home and there Sarah overwhelmed him with her skill.

Mehta did some hasty rescheduling and two days later Sarah Chang appeared as a surprise guest with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

It was January 15, 1990. A 15-minute standing ovation, six curtain calls.. .

Sarah's performance of Paganini's Violin Concerto No. 1 was an outstanding success and hit the headlines of the American and Korean press.

The following year, Ricardo Mutti invited Sarah, along with violinist Pinchas Zukerman, to play with the Philadelphia Orchestra to celebrate its ninetieth anniversary. Then she was invited by conductors James Levine and Charles Dutoit to perform with their orchestras.

In 1992, after making performances with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, the Philadelphia Orchestra, the Pittsburgh Orchestra and the Montreal Symphony Orchestra, Sarah made her advance into Europe playing Tchaikovsky under the baton of Colin Davis of the London Symphony Orchestra.

The following summer she toured Italy with Zubin Mehta and in the fall she played Mendelssohn at the United Nations with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra under the baton of Kurt Masur.

This year she has a tighter schedule.

Following her performances in Germany, France and Britain, she is on an Asian tour that leads her to China, Singapore, Hong Kong, Japan and Korea.

If there is one thing that really sets Sarah Chang apart from other geniuses, it is the fact that despite her rare qualities, she really is a normal, ordinary child. She attends a regular school and is fond of cartoons and roller skating.

Perhaps Sarah owes her well-balanced personality to her parents' educational philosophy They believe in letting children be. It is said that one of the main causes of Mozart's early death was the stress he suffered at the hands of his father Leopold. To fulfil his own pride, Mozart's father showed the child genius off continuously and stymied the growth of his young spirit.

In the music world¡there is a joke: The leopard (Leopold) had the young wolf (Wolfgang) grasped firmly in the jaws of death Sarah's parents are far from excessive.

In fact they seem rather casual. For one thing they do not press Sarah to practice. Sarah's father says, "We don't want Sarah to be an empty-headed thing who knows nothing but music.

That is why we send her to an ordinary private school where she can mix with other children her own age. Each year we get about 200 requests for performances but we limit Sarah's performances so that she will be able to grow up bright and carefree."

Sarah does not enter the various concours and competitions. "You can't go far on technique alone;" her father says. "When you reach your teens you are judged as an adult. We want Sarah to be familiar with languages, art and

other general knowledge. If we feel she is getting tired of practicing, we urge her to stop for a while. Music must be a pleasure for her, not a chore. So we avoid concours which are only hand exercises for young performers Sarah's age."

At age thirteen, Sarah Chang has reached a crucial point in her development. This year she is in the first grade of middle school, and is going through puberty Her father says, "She will no longer be judged with the leniency shown a child. Sarah has to be responsible for herself now. So that people will not conclude that she is nothing now that she is no longer a child, she must work to gain the re-

spect of orchestras and audiences alike.

I believe she will do fine, just as she has done up till now."

Since the performance at the United Nations in the fall of 1993, ¡sarah has been using a full size violin. It is a 1718 Guarneri of the highest quality.

Now she has joined the ranks of Korea's other famous female violinist, Chung Kyung-wha, and this alone brings greater glory to Korea than any prize. The musical fruits that Sarah Chang is gathering from all over the world are worth any number of Olympic gold medals. Wherever Sarah Chang and her violin go, the name and pride of Korea will follow. +

75

DISCOVERING KOREA

Soybeans Kwon Tae-wan Professor, Inje University President, Korea Bean Research Society

he soybean is indigenous to East Asia. . From time immemorial, East Asians have eaten soybeans and at one time they were the only people to do so.

But the soybean has become part of a worldwide diet, for nowadays soybeans are planted, grown and eaten everywhere in the world.

There are many things we could ask about the soybean. Where did it come from? Who were the first to eat it?

It is surmised that the soybean was one of five grains cultivated from as early as

sprouts. For example, they cooked soybeans with rice and made soybeans into paste and curd.

Ancient Chinese records indicate that soybean paste did not originate in China but was introduced from Korea's Kogury6 Kingdom.

The cultivation and consumption of soybeans later spread to China and Japan. Indonesia also has indigenous ways of preparing soybean paste and fermented soybean dishes, but no relation is known to exist between Indonesian and Korea¡n soybeans. Modern Japanese have conducted much research on soybeans and have succeeded in developing and marketing a wide range of soybean products with the aid of advanced technology.

That is why soy sauce and soybean

Koreans

Samhan, Kogury6, Paekche, and Shilla did.

Koreans, the world's first growers of soybeans, pioneered the processing of soybeans. Their culinary wisdom is evident in the many ways they utilized soybeans and soybean 76

would be lost without the soybean, which is often processed into blocks ojmeju, the main ingredient of soy sauce (right).

"shoyu" and "tofu."

There are hundreds of kinds of beans. In Korea, there are beans for cooking with rice, soybeans for making soy sauce, soybean paste and hot pepper paste, soybeans for making side dishes, and soybeans for growing soybean sprouts.

The many ways beans are

77

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utilized in the Korean diet have been passed down from one generation to another. Those methods are valuable cultural assets that are a source of joy and pride for Koreans.

The white soybean is the most widely grown and eaten soybean around the world. Even in Korea, where there is a widespread shortage of soybeans, the white soybean is the most commonly eaten. The white soybean is used to make meju, the main ingredient of soybean paste, and also to make tofu and soy milk. An indigenous Korean white soybean, which . is fatter than other white soybean varieties, is preferred in making these foods because the fatter the soybean, the more protein it has.

The heavily inbred North American soybean, which is mainly grown to make cooking oil, is small and low in protein. Small soybeans are desirable for soybean sprouts, which look and taste best when the stem is fuller than the head.

The importance of soybeans in the Korean diet goes without saying, espe-

¡-

78

Soybeans are an ideal complement for a rice die~ makingfor a very healthy Korean diet.

dally since rice is its main staple. It is not an exaggeration to say that soybeans contain all the essential nutrients that rice lacks. Rice is low in protein and fat and high in carbohydrates, whereas soybeans are high in protein and fat and have no carbohydrates.

Soybeans are thus an ideal complement for a rice diet, making for a very healthy Korean diet.

Unfortunately, our appreciation for the soybean has so diminished that the nation does not grow enough soybeans and has to import them. Korean farmers supply only 29 percent of the domestic demand for soybeans.

While the soybean is known as a superior source of nutrition, people are becoming increasingly interested in its health benefits. Soybeans lower cholesterol, prevent dementia, contain anti-cancer agents, and alleviate intestinal disorders. Soybeans are an ideal food in every way and for that reason should be made a larger part of our diet +

CURRENTS

KukSu-ho Reaching Out with Korean Dance KimTae-won . Dance Critic/Professor Dong-A University

hese days, I am astounded by the Tidim Dance Troupe led by choreographer Kuk Su-ho.

Its activities far surpass the standard expected of an individual choreographer or a private dance troupe and show great creativity, mobility and harmony. There are no specific records on the activities of domestic dance troupes, but this particular troupe appears to be performing more often than any other Korean professional or private dance troupe. Moreover, it is inundated with invitations to perform abroad.

As such, the Tidim Dance Troupe is a private troupe in name only; in reality, it far outranks national or municipal dance troupes, which only give a few nominal performances a year, in both its performances as well as in the pride it takes in its work. This is particularly true of traditional Korean dance which the troupe is passionately striving to develop.

Let's look at 1992 and 1993 for example. In May 1992 the troupe performed Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, combining elements of Korean traditional da nce and radical modern dance movements to stir controversy in the Korean dance community.

They presented the same production at the Bolshoi Theater and in Mongolia before returning to the Korean stage. In the winter of 1993, they traveled to Vietnam, with whom Korea had just set up diplomatic ties, to perform an original work entitled Sea of Spirits in Hanoi. In the meantime, they were invited to perform at

T

KukSu-ho

In a world where standards are sometimes ignored, K uk is constantly pursuing artistic excellence; he burns with a desire for self-growth.

various industrial sites in Korea as well as to participate in the art festivals held in conjunction with the 1993 Taejon Expo. They also performed once or twice in Japan at that time.

It is difficult to imagine such a broad range of activities and accomplishments. One cannot but admire the pioneering spirit the troupe displayed in their courageous efforts to establish cultural ties with the artists of Russia, Mongolia and Vietnamcountries with whom Korea had only immature ties at the time- and thereby act as cultural ambassadors. "To look ahead with eternal optimism" is perhaps the motto of choreographer Kuk Su-ho and the members of the Tidim Dance Troupe.

Kuk Su-ho is in his forties and has had much experience with professional dance troupes (16 years with the National Dance Troupe, and 2 years as the chief artistic director of the '88 Seoul Art Troupe). An extraordinary artist, he has filled the void that had existed since the time of the prominent male dancer Song

Porn.

Unlike other performers in the 1990s, Kuk and his dance troupe are contributing significantly to the enhancement of our dance community, not with mere words and slogans but through meaningful artistic innovations. This is especially important in a community where well-defined goals are rare. They are outstanding for several reasons.

First, as Rite of Spring has already 79

successfully demonstrated, their performances (especially Korean creative dance) are helping to enhance our international reputation through a daring creativity that is based on Korean traditional dance movements.

Second, they are constantly striving to perfect and to professionalize the art of dance.

Third, as the forerunners of our dance community, they are constantly striving to stage creative productions in order to increase the artistic value of dance and upgrade its social standing.

/

A Versatile Artist According to Kuk, his works have undergone a three-stage transformation. The first stage was the process of incorporating in his works elements of farmers' music and dance, folk instrumental music, folk rituals, and drum ensembles, which were all influenced by our agrarian and shamanistic culture. P'ungmul Nori staged in 1982, Muny6do staged in 1983, Great~um Ensemble staged in 1985, and Earth Dance staged in 1987 fall into this first stage.

The second stage reflects the influences of Buddhism, traditions such as ancient Korean customs, and exotic natural scenery. It includes such works as Dance of Mirage staged in 1983, White Portrait staged in 1988, and Songs of the Todul River staged in 1988.

The third stage shows a closer affinity for Eastern themes such as death and recurrence. It includes the 80

recently performed Divine Dance and Sea of Spirits and works on which Kuk collaborated with playwrights. For example, he choreographed Yu T6k-hy6ng's When Spring Comes in the Mountains and

Fields, Kim To-hun's Hwang Chin-i, 0 T'ae-s6k's Hanman -s6n, T'ae, and

Clouds of Spray, Kim Ch6ng-ok's Flowers Blossom on Windy Days Too, and Hercules' Dream, Son Chinch'aek's Mt Paektu Py6lgok, Chik'imi, and Namsadang's Sky, and the world-renowned Hungarian producer Mikleroshi Jancho's Nostoy. As I noted earlier, Kuk is truly in a class of his own.

Throughout the three stages of his career, not to mention his collaborative efforts with theater artists, he has endeavored, almost stubbornly, to include many facets of Korean and other Eastern cultures in his works and at the same time to expand his scope to include a wide range of music and dance.

Whenever a choreographer tries to integrate multi-dimensional issues into his work, there is always the possibility that the theme may overshadow the dance itself. As Kuk is especially adept at using dramatization, stage props and theatrical symbols, there is some concern that his productions could become too theatrical. However, as evident in his Rite of Spring production, he has no problem balancing dance and drama. He has been more successful than anyone at synthesizing dance and drama as is clearly discernible in Munmy6do, White Portrait, and Earth Dance, and especially in his most recent produc"' tion Queen My6ngs6ng ~ In Queen Myongs6ng, ~ which is in the format of i'f a traditional dance drama, Kuk achieves an exquisite balance between Mozart's Requiem and the traditional Korean shrine music a-ak.

Korean dance movements and masks are employed effectively in an out. standing stage language that conveys the sense of tragedy that dominated the last years of the Chason period.

The dynamic choreography of the piece inc! udes an a we-inspiring group dance reminiscent of Korea's

classical court dances. It is intricately woven with elements of worldclass drama and Korean traditional dance. The piece is expected to contribute to the internationalization of Korean dance.

The Korean performing arts, in. eluding dance, are in a state of stagnation. This is due in part to the failure of veteran dancers in the 1970s and 1980s to transform their talents to meet the challenges of the 1990s and the. subsequent deterioration of their artistic spirit.

Moreover, the influx of foreign performing arts in the wake of the Uruguay Round is expected to compound the problem because the Korean performing arts have not yet matured. In addition, critics, whose function is to nurture talented artists and evaluate performers and performances have lost their sense of direction. Besides, it is not easy to find performing artists who are willing to make sacrifices for their art or their own artistic growth and development and, forums for the active development of the performing arts are sore! y lacking.

Kuk's commemorative performance, Thirty Years of Dance, which was staged at the National Theater in Seoul April 22-24 provided a new perspective not only on the development of a single artist but also on the development of Korean dance. In a world where standards are sometimes ignored, Kuk is constantly pursuing artistic excellence; he is burning with a desire for self-growth. Having long observed Kuk's increasingly daring artistry, I have come to realize that an artist of his high caliber is not born but developed through his own efforts to perfect his art. This is why I call Kuk a "self-made artistic dancer." +

Lee Kyong-hee

Korean Culture, Legacies and Lore Korea Herald Inc., 1994, 303 pp. 25,000 won or US$30

By Kevin O'Rourke

Opening at random Lee Kyong-hee's new book, Korean Culture, Legacies and Lore, my attention was immediately caught by a poem:

This morning spring went away with foggy rain.

Hazy, my thought drizzles in the misty rain.

Sending you away, I tum around to look up at the evening sky Lonely petals fall asleep on the empty stalks.

Written by the revered Zen master, Chothe per et's feelings upon parting with the renowned calligrapher Kim Chong-hUi. The translation could use a little tightening but it is good enough to let a really fine poem shine through. The speaker's sadness is in the rain; the rain itself is in the speaker's thoughts, and the poem concludes with that lovely image of the petals falling asleep on their stalks.

This is in the finest tradition of poems on the theme of parting.

I mention this poem because it gives the feel of Korea, and the feel of Korea is precisely what Korean Cul-

th (1786-1866), the poem recounts

ture, Legacies and Lore is all about The book provides information on many topics, from handicrafts past and present, to traditional performing arts, rituals, historical sites and leg-

ends. This beautifully illustrated volume provides a wealth of information about aspects of Korea that are fast disappearing.

The essays may not have the incisive wit of The Spectator or The New Yorker, but they make informative and entertaining reading and will be invaluable to those looking for quick information, in good serviceable English, on cultural themes related to Old Korea.

One aspect of the book I particularly like is the author's penchant for introducing personalities to illustrate a theme: the essay on Cho Ok-hwa, soju maker supreme, will bring any Scotsman back in spirit (pun intended) to the glens, licking his lips for the taste of the water of life. I learned some fascinating things from the soju essay: for example, the men of Andong are credited with first producing soju, some time during the Koryo period, and the Mongolian invasion of the 13th century acted as a great spur to soju drinking, not because of the liquor's putative anodyne properties as you might expect, but because of Mongolian contacts with the Middle East where distilled liquor had long been a tradition. This sort of information may not improve your job prospects or prolong your life, but it will broaden your horizons and add a little spice to your conversation Lee Kyong-hee has cast a wide net, and some essays are more interesting than others, but there is something here for everyone. + 81

_.;

NEWS FROM mE KOREA FOUNDATION

.,~

Support for Korean Studies Programs Abroad

FELLOWSHIP FOR KOREAN STUDIES

The Korea Foundation offers financial assistance to universities, research institutes and libraries abroad in their efforts to promote the study and understanding of subjects related to Korea. Projects submitted for consideration must be in the fields of humanities, social sciences or arts and within the categories listed below: 1) Establishment and expansion of Korea-related courses and faculty 2) Fellowships for graduate students or research grants for faculty 3) Library acquisition and cataloging Applications must be submitted to The Korea Foundation by May 31. The results of the final selection will be announced by October 15 of the same year.

For application forms, program guideliiles or further information, please write to:

Applicants should complete two copies of The Korea Foundation Fellowship for Korean Studies application form and submit their academic research proposals to The Korea Foundation by May 31 The results of the final selection will be announced by August 15 of the same year.

International Cooperation Department I The Korea Foundiition

FEUOWSHIP FOR KOREAN LANGUAGE TRAINING

CPO. Box 2147 Seoul. Korea Tel 82-2-753-3464.

FAX, 82-2-757-2047. 2049

KOREA FOCUS A BIMONTHLY ON KOREAN CURRENT AFFAIRS

In addition to KOREANA, The Korea Foundation publishes KOREA FOCUS as part of its effort to inform the world community about Korea and to enhance international understanding in this era of globalization We believe KOREA FOCUS will serve as an important and timely reference for the world community.

KOREA FOCUS offers a comprehensive view of contemporary Korea in a · selection of informative articles on Korean current affairs. In this new bimonthly, you will find timely reports on Korea's politics, economy, social environment and culture, a chronology of recent events in Korea, and opinions on world affairs.

Published in English and Japanese, its articles come from leading publications in Korea, including major daily newspapers, newsmagazines and aca. . •:::::...- I demic journals.

lE I

The Korea Foundation Fellowship Programs

The Korea Foundation offers grants for Korean language training to graduate students, scholars and other qualified professionals overseas who wish to learn the Korean language at a Korean university language institute for a period of six to twelve months.

Each successful applicant will be assigned to a Korean language course at one of three major Korean universities, and will be provided with tuition and a monthly allowance during the grant period Applicants should complete and submit two copies of The Korea Foundation Fellowship for Korean Language Training application form to The Korea Foundation by May 31. The results of the final selection will be announced by August 15 of the same year. · For application forms, program guidelines or further information, please write to:

International Cooperation Department If The Korea Foundation / / ~i l ~

C.P.O. Box 2147 Se oul. Ko rea Tel 82-2-753-6465 FAX, 82-2-757-2047. 20 49

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VISIT KOREA YEAR 1994 '-~

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K

REA Land of the Morning Calm

The Rhythm Of The Past Is Calling.

C elebrate Seoul's 600th anniversary with us. Visit Korea Year 1994 is a journey to the past. To a time when dances were held in fields and meadows by country folks who simply wanted to celebrate life. The past is calling today.

Answer it by visiting a country where they live life in a different rhythm.

Fabulous discounts nationwide on your vacation!

For more information, contact the nearest KNTC , Korean Air or Asiana Airlines office.

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HAVE THE TEC:::HN=L=GY T = IVIAKE .