Koreana Winter 1995 (English) by The Korea Foundation

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BEAUTY OF KOREA

Yon nalligi

Kiteflying, yon nalligi, has long been a national pastime for Koreans, especially during the New Year's season. Even nowadays, contests are h eld thro ugh o ut the country in winter. Kitefl y ing usually reaches its peak on Taebo rum , th e fir st full moon of the new lunar year. On this day in the past, it was customary to w rite on e's name an d birthday and the phrase "Bad luck begone, good luck stay" on a kite (yon) and let it fly away in the hope of ensuring good luck throughout the new year. The "kite fight" is the most popular kite game. As the object of the game is to cut an opponent's kite ~t rin g , a mixture of glue and crushed glass or pottery is used to coat the string to make it tough and abrasive. The trick is to maneuver one's kite so the string is over the opponent's kite string and then alternately pull and release it in a sawing motion to cut the opponent's string. Other contests include competitions to see w ho can fly their kite the highest and the longest. The tailless "shield" kite is the most common kind of Korean kite. It is a rectangle w ith a bowed top and a

hole in the center. The bowed top enables it to fl y high and far w hile the hole makes it resistant to strong gusts and gives it great maneuverability. Of th e ma n y o the r kinds of Korean kites, th e diam o n d -sh ap ed kaori yon, or stingray kite, is the second most common variety. Some~ times a number of them ~ are strung together to () m make a long kite. Kites in various shapes such as dragons, phoenixes and other birds and animals are also popular. The earliest record of kiteflying in Korea is contained in Korea's oldest history book, Samg uk sagi (History of . the Three Kingdoms) w hich was published in 1145. According to the account, a star fell from the sky in 647, the first year of the reign of Queen Chind6k of the Shilla Kingdom (57 BC-A.D. 935) and it was regarded as a bad omen for the queen against w hom a rebellion was raging. Kim Yu-shin, the general who was leading the fight against the rebels, sent a large burning kite into the sky returned one night and spread the story that the tO\ heaven, a fortuitous sign, and t):I'ClS\'su c<:eel:::tea pressing the rebellion. +

COVER: The easiest way to

catch a glimpse of the native flair of any ethnic group is to look into their folk art. This issue ofKoreana thus looks into

minsok nori (folk games and play), a broad genre of folk art that ranges from farmers' music and dance (seen on the cover), mask dance and kite flying to games and rituals that involve entire communities.

FolkGa1nes

Entertaining the Spirits, Ensuring the Harvest

4 Korean Folk Games: Their Characteristics and Preservation by Im Tong-kwon

12 Folk Games and Rituals

20 Tug-of-War: Pulling the Rope for a Bumper Harvest by Kim Kwang-on

26 Folk Play and Its Influence on Productivity by Lim .fae-hae

Mask Dances and Recreational Culture

by Chang Han-ki

38 ÂŠThe Korea fo undation 1995 All rights reserved No part of this publication may he reproduced in any form without the prior permission of The Korea Foundation. The opinions expressed by the authors do not necessarily represent those of the editors of KOREANA or The Korea Foundation. KOREANA, reg istered as a quarterly magazine w ith the Ministry o f Informatio n (Registration No. Ba-1033, dated Aug. 8, 1987), is also published in French, Spanish, Japanese and Chinese

INTERVIEW

Ha Po-gyong by Ch ung Byung-ho

42 Korean Music Since Liberation: History and Source Materials by Song Bang-song

48 Western Music in Korea by Han Sang-u

54 KOREAN ARTISTS ABROAD

Philip Kang by Kim Min

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Kim Hyung-kook Kim Seong-wou Lim Young-bang

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insok nori, or folk games, is a broad term generally used for all kinds of traditional recreational activities, games and other forms of play, and is sometimes stretched to embrace dance and drama. A more literal translation of the term is "folk play." As such, minsok nori are more like playful fun and games than recreational or leisure activities. As for dance and drama, minsok nori dance is not creative dance or classical dance already established as inde-

pendent genres but is an as yet unspecialized, nonintegrated art. Puppet plays and mask -dramas are developing into independent genres of folk drama. on the basis of their dramatic structures, but it should be noted that they are replete with elements of nor~ or play. The public event where the greatest variety of nori can be seen at one time is the yearly National Folk Art Contest, w hich features competitio n in fi ve fields: farmers' music and dance, folk drama, folk dance, folk songs and folk

games. Here, the folk games, or nori, are clearly separated from folk dramaÂˇ and folk dance. The nori that have been performed in the Folk Art Contest can be largely categorized into three groups: religious nori including tari kut, y6ndi.ing nori, k wandi.ing nori, t'apdori, chishin palki, ipch'un kut nori, taegam nori and tano kut nori; seasonal nori including kanggangsullae, hoetpul nori, hanjanggun nori, tapkyo nori, kobuk nori, kisebae, nottari palki, kiwa palki and ti.ingbaru

nori; and, competitive nori including ch'aj6n nori, kossa um, nonggi paetki, porum chuldarigi and Asan chuldarigi. Falling outside these groups are haeny6 nori, 6bang nori, ssangyong nori, s6dang nori and segy6ng nori. Religious and Artistic Aspects The folk games are mostly played in farming or fishing villages -as celebrations of life and seasonal festivities. A great number of nori derive from the rituals of folk religions or Buddhism in

which the participants entertained their gods. Many of the m inv olve d the entire community. The folk games were developed by common people w ith their empathy in th e community life and h ave been handed down with remarkable resiliency. Kanggangsullae, for example, originated as a joyous rondo by which people expressed their gratitude to the moon for lighting the night and freeing the m from the dread of darkness. Although Buddhism and Confucianism

tried to discourage physical expressions in favor of meditation and reflection, the exuberant energy and joy of the common people could not be repressed and kanggangsullae continued to be played as a seasonal nori at <;h'usok. Games such as tari kut (Walking on the Bridge), chishin palki (Treading on th e Ea rth God ), ipch 'un kut n o ri (Welcoming the Spring), taegam nori ( Re vering a Lor d), Tan o ku t n o ri (Cele b rat ion of Tan o Festival) an d yond (mg nori (Lantern Festival) are

shamanistic in origin as implied by the word kut, meaning "shaman rite," attached to many of their names. They show traces of ancient folk beliefs from a time when humans, constantly reminded of the presence of gods, tried to prevent disaster and attain happiness by appeasing the gods. People turned for protection to supernatural being~ when they realized their mortal limitations. They invoked the spirits to fulfill their wishes and held rites of gratitude when their wishes were realized. To entertain the gods in the process, they devised spectacular ways to exhibit their adulation and thus gave birth to religious nori. Koreans have celebrated days of seasonal benchmarks from time immemorial. Celebrations marking such occasions as Sol (New Year 's Day), Taeborum (First Full Moon) and Ch'usok (Eighth Full Moon) have become an important part of Korean life. A great part of childhood memories revolve around the lighthearted games and playful minsok nori of seasonal festivals, and the memories of frolicking in the moonlit night make people recall their hometowns with fondness and loyalty. Competitive nori usually coincide with seasonal festivals and often involve neighboring villages. Some contests are quite massive events, involving the whole townspeople divided intc two competing camps, east and west or north and south. Because competitive games require the cooperation of the participants, they contribute to the promotion of solidarity and friendship and nurture community spirit. Competitive nori are more than a friendly match. In ancient times, the outcome of a nori was a serious matter involving not only the pride of the villagers but their well-being as well. In chuldarigi (tug-of-war), for example, it was believed that the victorious village would have a bumper harvest whereas the loser would have a poor crop. In some places, the rope was divided into a female rope and a male rope, and it

Folk games are mosdy played in farming or fishing villages as celebrations of life and seasonal festivities. A great number of them derive from the rituals of folk religions or Buddhism in which the participants entertained meifgods. Manyofmem involve me entife community

~ Chwibul nori (setting fire to field embankments) is played at night

Koreans have celebrated days of seasonal benchmarks from time immemorial A great part of childhood memories revolve around the lighthearted games and playful minsok nori of seasonal festivals, and the memories of frolicking in the moonlit night make people recall their hometowns w ith fondness and loyalty

was believed the side with the female rope should win for the year to be productive. In this sense, chuldarigi was an agrarian variation of a fertility rite. Minsok nori are not just simple games but folk events rich with artistic endowment; they are a genre of folkloric art. Minsok nori are based on the artistic empathy of the populace as a community rather than individuals. A minsok nori can touch the heart of every member of the community and rouse them to participate spontaneously and joyously. Koreans who are deaf to the loveliest tune of Western music respond enthusiastically to the exuberant beat of nong-ak, or farmers' dance and music, because nong-ak is a folk art that has long been part of Korean life. Because it is an art borne of Korean wisdom and sensibility over a long period of time, minsok nori evoke an immediate response from Korean people anywhere, anytime. The easiest way to catch a glimpse of the native flair of any ethnic group is to look into their folkloric art. It is thus distressing that most of the minsok nori which have been passed down for such a long time are gradually disappearing in the wake of surging Western influences. They are not given enough attention even in schools. An organized national art education system is yet to be established. Furthermore, due to the modernization of lifestyles and ways of thinking, they are being neglected even by farmers who have been the major bearers of tradition. Indigenous minsok nori should be rediscovered and preserved to contribute to the development of Korea's national culture. Many of the nori were deliberately banned under the Japanese colonial policy of assimilation. They should be retrieved from the obscure memories of the elderly and revived for modern life. They possess cultural value, having been imbued with the communal spirit of the Korean people in the process of being handed down from one generation to the next, and it is the responsibility of this generation to

preserve them for the next. The loss of one's national traditions is tantamount to losing one's culture. It means the country has no capacity to inherit the cultural heritage of its ancestors and no creativity to develop it. The imitation of other cultures will never lead to a country's development of philosophies or lifestyles of its own. It is a time when sustained efforts are needed to preserve minsok nori as a folk art genre. The More the Merrier Minsok nori are remnants of ancient rites held to revere heaven and numerous deities such as trees, mountains and rivers. Villagers gathered together at sunset to partake of the food offerings and to dance and sing in the shamanic ritual of kut. As the rites grew larger, so did the song and dance performances. People worshipped the gods with entertaining performances, thus singing and dancing became an integral part of ancient rites. However, the religious elements of some rites weakened with the passage of time whereas the nori elements grew and developed into a folk art genre. Nong-ak came to play an indispensable role in community rites held on seasonal occasions. The exuberant farmers' music resounded throughout the village on New Year's Day as villagers danced and sang to its pulsating rhythm. Music and dance of a similar kind entertained gods at the village shrine and induced humans to experience gods. Each kind of minsok nori developed its own characteristics as it incorporated local color and regional traits. The lifestyle of a region is the product of its natural environment and the primary occupations of its people. In this sense, minsok nori are very much conditioned to the region to which they belong. For ex ample, chuldarigi (tug-of-war) is played widely in central and southern Korea, but ktlnettwigi (swinging) is far more popular in northern Korea.

Children clad in traditional Korean clothes playing nolttwigi, standing see-oaw (top), and p'aengi ch'igi, top spinning (above)

Whereas kanggangsullae thrives in the southwest coastal region of Chollanamdo Province, the people of Kyongsangnam-do Province identify with k'waejina ch'ingch 'ing (folk song with the refrain "k'waejina ch'ingch'ing nane"). Each of these minsok nori has a special appeal to the people who grew up in its region and gives them a sense of identity. Although some minsok nori, such as

yon nalligi (kiteflying) and p 'aeng-i ch'igi (top spinning), are played individually, most kinds of nori are played in groups, and the greater the number of players, the merrier. Yut nori (stick-dice throwing) is a good game for playing as a family. Entire villages take part in kanggangsullae, ssirum (traditional wrestling), chwibul nori (setting fire to the embankments of fields), tapkyo nori (walking on a bridge) and nottari

palki ("princess" walking across a bridge of human backs). However, the whole town becomes astir with excitement when games such as kut nori (shaman rite), chuldarigi (tug-of-war) and tongch'ae ssaum or ko ssaum (rope loop battle) are played because they involve the participation of a great number of people, sometimes more than a thousand. Collective games require the cooperation of not only the participants but all the members of the community. All the villagers abstain from doing anything "impure" prior to the game to make sure they give evil spirits no chance to interfere, and everyone volunteers to provide materials needed for the game or to make whatever is necessary. For example, the thousands of bundles of rice stalks needed to make the thick ropes for chuldarigi or kossaum are always donated by members of the community who make the ropes themselves without pay. Folk games of such a massive scale thrive in regions where cooperation is a way of life but perished long ago in regions lacking a cooperative spirit. Minsok nori promote national unity because of their ability to inspire patriotism and solidarity and for that very reason suffered severe suppression during the Japanese colonial rule (19101945). During field studies, researchers often come across elderly people who remember a minsok nori that was suspended in the early years of Japanese rule, testifying to the fact that the Japanese obliterated a number of traditional nori. There is a pressing need to restore those nori that are extinct or deformed for a proper preservation of Korea's cultural heritage.

Keeping Minsok Nori Alive The question of how to preserve the minsok nori ingrained in Korean lives as seasonal customs requires two essential approaches. First, minsok nori should be preserved in their original forms. Given the changes that occur with the passage of time, the proto10

types will not be easy to discover. Some people argue that searching for the original forms is meaningless and minsok nori should be revised to appeal to contemporary tastes. Nevertheless, utmost efforts must be made to pass down the original forms to the next generation. For instance, the stone Buddha in Sokkuram Grotto amply reflects the religiousness, artistic sense and aesthetic considerations of the Shilla people. The Buddha image would not have remained the same if it had been Yongsan Soemori taegi (above), a mock changed to suit the tastes of every passbatde between two teams wielding ing generation. It is thus a propitious giant wood and rope frames in the approach to preserve the art in its origishape of a cow~ head with the goal of nal form. pushing the opnet~ head to the The government has designated ground; A team captain (below) of some minsok nori "intangible cultural ch'ajOn nori, a similargame in which properties" in recognition of their cultwo teams batde with giant A -frames tural and artistic value and in an effort to preserve them in their original forms. This is a commendable measure to ensure that the original forms will remain intact. However, not all minsok nori have been designated cultural properties nor can their preservation be entrusted entirely to government authorities. A minsok nori is a sublimation of the sentiments of the people permeated with local color. There must be reasons-climatic, historic or cultural-for a nori to have originated and developed generation after generation in a particular region. It is thus desirable that a regional nori be preserved and passed on by the people of that region who can best empathize with it. Such empathy will be dissipated and the local flair will be lost if it is relocated. There is also the danger of commercialization, whereby the original form would be altered, degenerated and eventually reduced to unidentifiable obscurity. A nori can be preserved in its original form most efficiently when it is appreciated and protected with a positive attitude by the people of its region. People go to museums to learn 11 ~

" - - --

- -- - - -- - ' c::

through the prototypes of relics of the past ages and re-create the present from

In Andong, young students clad in traditional clothes preparing to learn

nottari palk.i (princess bridge) to perpetuate the folk game.

this basis. A minsok nori, like a relic in a museum, embodies the precious experiences and wisdom which humans have accumulated, and thus should be kept in its original form. A second approach that should be pursued in perpetuating minsok nori is to re-create or modify the games. Moral values and sense of beauty change with the passage of time, which in turn gives birth to a culture that corresponds to prevailing trends. While adhering stubbornly to the preservation of the original form on the one hand, we should

nevertheless make efforts to modify the games to respond to the requirements of the time on the other. Moderri Korean history has been marked by whirlwind changes in lifestyles and ways of thinking resulting from the collision of the traditional and the foreign. The introduction of Christianity and Western civilization brought enormous changes to Korean culture, and minsok nori were no exception. Traditional nori, based on agrarian culture, faded in popularity with the emergence of an urban, indus-

trialized society. But, while the traditional nori are waning, new kinds of nori that appeal to modern tastes are increasing. A nori that no longer keeps up with the time is bound to perish and the few that survive do so through modification and compromise. Such is the way time works. The wisdom for re-creating nori is needed in this era of rapid changes. Recreation requires a two-fold effort to preserve tradition in a modern way and, at the same time, embrace foreign culture to adjust to the new era. + 11

Korea's traditional games and folk practices are performed throughout the year, but are most common on Taeborum, the first full moon of the New Year, Tano, the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, Paekchung-il, Buddhist All Souls' Day in the middle of the seventh lunar month, and the Harvest Moon Festival, the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month. Closely related to the rituals of agrarian society, traditional games and folk practices are essential elements of rites held during planting season in early spring, summer rituals appealing for a bountiful harvest, and autumn rites 12

thanking the gods for nature's rewards. In the southern regions, traditional games are most commonly performed around the Harvest Moon Festival. In the central region and in northern Korea, Tano marks the peak season for games. Nationwide, however, Taebor6m features the greatest variety of games. With the exception of games originating in Chinese culture, most games played around the beginning of the lunar year are linked to agrarian life; they are ritualistic activities aimed at appeading for and promoting a villages peace and prosperity.

Approximately 200 games have been identified, but further research is certain to discover more. Of the known games, only half are now being practiced and handed down to the younger generation. Scholars generally categorize traditional games and folk practices by their purpose. Some are simply games for fun. Others are ritual appeals for a bountiful harvest or catch, a kind of group gambling, tests of strength, or rites promoting personal good fortune or village prosperity. The following presents a pictorial overview of Korea's most popular traditional games.

Puppet Show Korea's traditional puppet show has been handed down through the centuries by wandering entertainers. It is called Pakch 'omji nori or Hongdongji nori. The puppet show came to Korea through Central Asia and China and was very popular during the Three Kingdoms period (57 B.C.-A.D. 935). The stage, staging and puppet handling are similar ~o those of China. Until the 1920s, puppet shows were quite popular and performed by wandering entertainers all over Korea.

Yut Board Game Yut nori is a board game in which four halved round

Tightrope Walking The tradition of walking or dancing on a high wire came to Korea through Central Asia and China. The tightrope walker not only walks on the rope but also tells funny stories, sings songs and even makes sarcastic remarks about the upper classes. There are 17 different kinds of tightrope walking.

sticks or beans are tossed in the air and the number of spaces the game markers can be moved on the board is calculated according to the position of the sticks or beans when they land. Yut nori is usually played from lunar New Year's Day until the first full moon. It is the most common Korean game played in the first lunar month and is not only enjoyed by family members but also neighbors and even whole villages. 13

Yangju Mask Dance The Yangju pyolsandae originated in Yangju, Kyonggi-do Province. Its 22 masks are more realistic than those of other mask dances. The contents of the play, like that of other mask dance dramas, reveal malpractices of the time, satire, lust, comedy and lamentation. The Yangju mask dance is usually performed between the sixth and seventh full moons of the lunar calendar. 14

Hahoe Mask Dance This folk drama handed down from generation to generation in the village of Hahoe near Andong, Ky6ngsangbuk-do, is said to have originated in a shamanistic ritual called the py6lshin kut, which was created to appease the spirit of a youth who died of a broken heart as he pined for a girl while making a mask under the order of a mountain spirit. 15

Ko Fighting This game used to be played at Yutdol village in Chollanam-do from the beginning of the first lunar month to the first day of the second month. Ko refers to a loose knot

shaped like a cloth ribbon coiled at one end. The fight resembles a tug-of-war and, as in the traditional Korean tugof-war, the winning team is guaranteed a good harvest.

An "intangible cultural asset," this traditional game has helped promote village unity and military preparedness for generations in the Andong area of Kyongsangbuk-do. The mock battle pitting two teams carrying giant A-frame carriers

made of straw is usually played around the lunar New Year. Each team has a leader who, dressed in his finest traditional costume, pilots the A-frame in a fierce shoving match. The first team to knock the opponent's A-frame to the ground wins.

Wido Ttibaegut nori A shamanistic ritual appealing for a bountiful catch and village tranquility, the Wido Ttibaegut nori is held each year on the third day of the first lunar month in the village of Taeri on Wido Island off Muan-gun, Chollanam-do. A shaman, ritual officials elected by the villagers and fishing boat own18

ers carrying colorful flags climb to the village shrine for a shamanic ceremony. This is followed by a rite honoring the Dragon King (Yongwang kut) held at the harbor, and a final rite in which all evil and misfortune is symbolically loaded onto a model boat (ttibae) and sent out to sea.

Ssirum Wrestling Ssin1m, a men's game, appears to have come to

Korea by way of China and later was passed on to Japan where it developed into sumo wrestling. The wall paintings of the Kogury6 "Ssirum Tomb" which was built at the end of the fourth century indicate that Koreans enjoyed this game from ancient times. 17

Nong-ak, Farmers' Music The farmers' music known today is thought to have originated in folk ceremonies honoring the heavens as early as the seventh century B.C. when ancient Koreans began cultivating the land It clearly displays elements of traditional exorcisms and village thanksgiving rites. The farmers' music ensemble consists of a large brass gong, a small gong, a drum and an hourglass drum. The

ensemble is often accompanied by a t'aep'yongso, a double-reed instrument which produces an eerie whining sound, and athletic dancers wearing special hats with long paper streamers which create a dramatic effect when the dancers twirl their heads. The music and dance vary from region to region. The Namsadang farmers' music troupe of Kyonggi-do is especially well known. 19

y far the most celebrated of the many events that take place at the annual March First Festival in Yongsan, Ch'angnyong-gun, Kyongsangnam-do Province is chuldarigi, or tug-of-war. This is a magnificent game played by thousands of townspeople in two teams or camps, the east and the west, reflecting the physical division of the town by the old town wall. Both sexes are represented in the contest; the east team symbolizes

Pulling the Rope for a Bumper Harvest Kim Kwang-on Professor of Folklore Inha University

the male and the west team, the female. It is said that the town will have a bumper harvest if the west team wins, but that does not make the east any less determined to win. The harvest is all but forgotten as both teams tug with might and main, the victory and nothing else in their minds. Everyone becomes so wrapped up in the game that if members of a family are somehow placed on opposing teams, they will not speak to one another for weeks

after the contest is over. Each side of the rope for the tug-ofwar is 40 meters long and 50 centimeters in diameter. The rope, which is made of countless smaller strands of straw rope, is so thick that one cannot grasp its full width but has to instead grab onto and tug on more than a hundred thinner ropes attached along its length. The end of the rope is unravelled so that participants can also pull each of the small ropes. An enormous

amount of rice straw is needed to make the thick rope, the whole work taking scores of people laboring more than 20 days and nights. Then, each team stands vigil over its rope day and night lest someone from the other team should sneak in to stride over the rope or drive a nail or needle into it, which is believed to cause the rope to break during the contest. Incidentally, there is a folk belief that a woman who strides over the rope will

give birth to a son, tempting many women to do so. During the Japanese colonial period, a woman caught in the act of stepping over the rope in Mokhaeng-dong, Ch'ungju, Ch'ungch'ongbuk-do was indeed stoned to death. The male rope and the female rope are identical except for the loop at the head. The loop of the female rope is made larger than that of the male rope so that the two ropes can be locked together by putting the male loop inside the female loop and inserting a }meterlong, 25-centimeter-wide log through both loops to hold the two ropes together. In 1968, I was on hand to watch the chuldarigi contest. Hundreds of men from each camp brought their rope to the playground of Yongsan High School around one o'clock in the afternoon. The ropes were so heavy that they had to carry them hooked to cross bars, each shouldered by two people. As the officiants began to lock the two

A clo~up of a tug-of-war rope(above); the loop of the "male"rope is placed inside the loop of the "female" rope and locked in place with a log to form a long rope (below).

ropes together, each camp insisted that the other should come nearer to their loop. "A woman is not supposed to make the first move," shouted the west team. "Ha, they seem mighty ready these days," jeered the east side. The dispute and verbal abuse went on for more than an hour. Bored with waiting, I asked a fellow spectator when the loops were going to be locked together. "What kind of a man and woman would do it in the broad daylight?" the spectator said, giggling. After many exasperating twists and turns, including a local policeman firing a blank gun, the loops of both camps inched forward to lock onto each other and the log was about to be thrust through them, when one loop slipped out. The people at the end of the rope had pulled it, afraid they were giving too much headway to the other team. The leaders of both teams bellowed orders to push 'the rope forward, and the loops neared each other hesitantly only to slip away again. This was repeated over and over but

everyone was gleeful and made comments such as, "That one sure is virile to be in and out of the female that many times." The sun set and dusk began to descend. At five o'clock, the two ropes were finally locked together and the tugging began. The female team won within ten minutes by tugging the rope about two meters to their side. Roars of triumph reached the sky. The winner takes both ropes, which are sometimes cut up a nd sold in pieces. It is said that the straw of the rope makes good crops when used as fertilizer, makes cattle healthier when used for feed, and protects a family when used to thatch their roof. Even fishermen from Masan would come to get a piece of the rope, hoping for a bumper catch. It is said the losers paid taxes or did tax labor for the winners in ancient times. The tug-of-war is a game prevalent in rice-growing Southeast Asia. In eastern Indonesia, it is interpreted as a rite for the once-a-year union of the masculine sun god and the feminine earth god. It is held at the beginning of the farming season with men and women, divided into opposing teams, pulling the rope with the upper parts of their bodies bending forward and backward in simulation of sexual intercourse. The yearly union of the male god and the female god is a tradition widespread in the southern part of Korea also, but quite a number of villages, loathing to repeat it year after year, have the two gods wedded. A similar custom exists in Laos as well. One evening before the spring sowing begins, men and women each form a snake-like queue and dance. As the women dance, they make gestures of sending the men far away, symbolic of the rain sending the sun away. The tug-of-war takes place after the dance. Here too, it is believed that women should win to ensure a bumper harvest. In Cambodia also, men and women engage in a tug-of-war in temples and m onasteries as supplica tion for a

bumper harvest. People in Myanmar believe the tug-of-war brings rain, a concept stemming from fertility rites. The concept of identifying a queue with a snake is widespread in the southern regions of Japan. The correlation of the rope and the rain comes from the shape of the rope which resembles a dragon. A thick rope that has a great many smaller ropes attached to it indeed looks like a dragon when seen from above. People believe pulling the dragon-like rope will bring abundant rain because the legendary beast is supposed to be responsible for rain. Indeed, chuldarigi used to be staged in Chinju, Ulsan and other areas during severe draughts.

Chinese Accounts The tug-of-war tradition also thrived in China. In the Book of Sui (Sui-shu), a seventh-century history book, it was recorded: "A loop-tugging game is played in two provinces. It originates from military training given to the army of Chu when they battled with Wu. The sounds of the drums and singing are so great that it is almost alarming. It is a folk belief that the winning side will have a bumper harvest. The custom has spread wide to other regions." Feng Yan o f the Ta ng Dynasty described the game in greater detail in his travelogue Fengshi Wenjianlu: "The tug-of-war was called loop-tugging in ancient times. It is the custom of the Yang and Han states to play it on the first full moon every year. It is said that the Chu army was trained with this game when they were warring with Wu... A rope of bamboo skins was used at first but it has been replaced with a 40- to 50-foot-long hemp rope. Each end of the rope is unravelled into hundreds of smaller ropes for pulling. A flag is stuck into the big rope to mark the center. Each side pulls the rope to their side with a great roar and the beating of drums. The one who pulled the rope to their side wins the game." This record shows that the tug-ofwar was already very popular during

the Tang Dynasty (7th-10th century) and that a hemp rope was used in place of a bamboo skin rope. According to the ]inglong Chronicle Uinglong-wenguanji), "On the Qingming Festival in 710, the king watched his officials playing the tug-of-war in the Liyuan Garden. About a dozen smaller ropes were attached to the hemp rope and each was pulled by three or four men. Among those on the east side were the king's two sons-in-law and seven cabinet ministers whereas there were five senior ministers and five generals on the west side. Two of them, ancient and exhausted, collapsed by the rope and could not rise for a long time. The king had a good laugh and told those nearby to help them stand up." In China the tug-of-war game is most popular in the Hunan and Hubei provinces along the Yangzi River and in Guangdong in the south. The game is played on a massive scale on the first full moon in the Hubei region. Here too, the rope is identified with the dragon and the rope-pulling with the dragon ascending to heaven. In Japan also, the tug-of-war is closely related with rice farming as indicated by the prevalence of the game in Kyushu where rice fa rming started in Japan. Likewise in Korea, the game is rarely played in areas north of the Han River where dry-field farming is dominant but it is very popular in the southern Honam (Ch6lla) and Y6ngnam (Kyongsang) regions w here rice farming thrives. Whereas the tug-of-war usually takes place on the first full moon in Korea and China (the aforementioned chuldarigi of Y6ngsan was held on the first full moon until it was changed to March 1 in commemoration of the March First Independence Movement of 1919), in Japan it is played on different occasions according to region. The game is played on the first full moon in the north of the Kinki region which is centered around Kyoto and Osaka. It is played on the Hundreds of Souls Day (seventh full moon) in the south of Kinki and on 23

A]apanese tug-of-war (top) and Korea's Miryang crab tug-of-war (right)

the eighth full m oon in Kyushu . However, the recent tendency is to hold it on the first full moon regardless of the region. A Japanese scholar suggests that the reason the tug-of-war has been popular in the Kinki region, Japan's erstwhile political and cultural center, is because immigrants from ancient Korea brought the game to the area. At the same time, he also alludes that it could be a folk game native to Japan on the grounds that it used to be played more often on the eighth full moon than on any other occasion. But, in Korea, the game is played on the eighth full moon rather than on the first full moon in the coastal areas of the Chollanam-do, Cheju-do, Kangwon-do, and Kyonggi-do provinces and in parts of the Kyongsang-do provinces. It is only logical to assume that the game was transmitted to Japan from Korea. Why do people play chuldarigi on the first full moon? Because the first full moon of the lunar year was a sacred occurrence for ancient agrarian populace whose farming calendar revolved 24

around the moon. For them the first full moon was practically the first day of a new year. This is why no less than 52 of 192 yearly traditional events of Korea were held on this day. Moreover, about 40 percent of all folk games and fertility rites to village tutelary deities were also held on the day. It is quite clear that chuldarigi is an important rite of agrarian society judging from the fact that it is held on the first full moon, it simulates sexual intercourse and the rope symbolizes the dragon. It should also be noted that chuldarigi is an event that promotes community solidarity and loyalty to one's homeland. It would be no small feat for the hard-working, thrifty farmers to volunteer all the rice straw and twine the ropes day and night for almost a month without a great pride and love for their homeland. In this sense, chuldarigi is a game that truly represents Korean folk tradition. From region to region, very peculiar variations of the tug-of-war are enjoyed in Korea, China and Japan. An example is the ke-chuldarigi, or crab tug-of-war,

popular in Miryang, Kyongsangnam-do. Each man puts his head in the loop of the rope and crawls on his hands and knees to pull the rope to his side. Sometimes smaller ropes are attached to the main rope, five on each side for five men to pull. All ten men pulling the rope on their hands and knees is very much like a crab crawling sideways. Tibetans in Szuchuan, China play an identical tug-of-war. It is played by two

men, each crawling to the far side of the other to pull a 4-meter-long cloth rope looped around his neck It is called elephant tug-of-war because the scene is reminiscent of an elephant. A similar tug-of-war is played by the Kirghiz of Central Asia. The only difference is that a Kirghiz player holds onto ox horns which he uses to stick into the ground to prevent himself from being pulled backward.

The residents of a fishing village in Kyushu, Japan play not by tugging a length of rope but a circle of rope, each side facing the other. The circle soon curves this way and that as a stronger player pulls the rope toward him while a weaker one is dragged forward. The circle thus looks like a snake. In fact, the whole idea is to simulate a snake. In many regions of Japan, it is believed that like the dragon, the snake ensures a

bumper harvest. In sum, Korea's chuldarigi is of the same nature as the tug-of-war games that prevail in southern China and Southeast Asian countries in that it is closely related with rice farming, the rope represents a dragon, the game symbolizes sexual intercourse, and victory by the female is thought to bring a bumper harvest. +

FOLK PLAY AND ITS INFLUENCE ON PRODUCTNITY Limjae-hae Professor of Folk Studies Andong University

n every culture, folk games and play are closely related to work, beginning with their origin and as they are handed down through the generations. Korea is no exception. Korea's folk games originated in a traditional agrarian culture and have been handed down through the centuries within the context of agrarian society. I have chosen to exclude children's folk games from this article for they are not directly linked to agriculture and are thus unrelated to the problem of livelihood. Similarly, I would distinguish folk games from the popular games played today. In traditional agrarian society, folk games were reserved for periods in the

agricultural cycle when they did not disrupt productive activities. For this reason, large-scale games, requiring many participants and several days of preparation, were limited to holidays during the off-season. During the busy seasons, the only games were those that could be played while working. Folk play or games associated with agriculture can be divided into two broad categories: those directly linked to agricultural activities and those which originated as New Year's customs expressing the farmers' fervent wish for good harvests and a prosperous life. The former includes cooperative activities performed on or near farms to encourage cooperation and productivity among farmhands,

whereas the latter refers to incantatory rites, performed as an appeal for a good harvest and village prosperity as part of the traditional holiday festivities. Neither work-related play nor incantatory game-rites are performed randomly. They are performed at specific times during the agricultural cycle or of the lunar calendar, and from their content, it is clear that they cannot be isolated from their original purposes, either as incentives for work or as rites for village prosperity. That is to say, folk games are group activities reserved for traditional holidays or specific agricultural tasks, such as weeding or transplanting. That these games are reserved for specific times of the year reflects their very spe-

cific objectives, the realization of economic prosperity through a bountiful harvest. In this sense, Korean folk games do not fit the models set forth by the Dutch historian Johan Huizinga or the French scholar Roger Caillois. Huizinga argued that games-be they children's games, folk games or popular games-are unrelated to matters of material interest. Caillois defined play as nonproductive activity that does not create any goods or wealth. For him, play is solely a consumptive activity. Callais argued, "In fact, play is unique for it does not produce any wealth or any product In this sense, play is different from labor or art. When a game ends in victory, there is nothing new. Everything starts from the beginning again, as it must. There is no harvest. No masterpiece is born, no capital accumulated. Play is an opportunity for pure consumption, the consumption of time, energy, humor and skills. And when the equipment for play must be bought or a site for play is rented, it is also an opportunity to consume moneY:' Korean play is remarkably productive, however. W ark-related play, rooted in the traditional ture village cooperative farming method, includes competitions and the singing of folk songs, all serving to increase productivity by motivating the farmhands to work harder. This is why the person who leads the singing of folk songs while weeding rice is paid more than the farmhands who do the actual pulling of the weeds. The lead singer's essential contribution to improving productivity has always been recognized. Some people believe that folk songs also stimulate the growth of rice stalks. Similarly, the musicians playing the rousing farmers' music (nong-ak) do not simply encourage the farmhands to work harder; their music seems to make the plants grow better and somehow eliminates pests. The Indian scholar T. C. Singh studied the influence of dance and song on plant growth. In his experiments, he played India's traditional raga music at paddies in seven villages. These paddies recorded a

25 to 60 percent improvement in yields as compared to paddies that had not been exposed to the music. Singh also experimented with the influence of dance on plant growth. He exposed several varieties of flowers, including daisies, marigolds and petunias, to traditional dances-without any musical accompaniment, not even ankle bells-and found that the flowering season was accelerated by two weeks or more. Singh's study may be taken as supporting the belief that the Korean percussion music, singing and dancing that accompanies traditional cooperative cultivation activities not only encourage farmhands to work harder, but also stimulate plant growth.

Among the games and rites performed to appeal for a good harvest is nottari palki (princess bridge) in w hich a "princess" walks across a bridge of human backs.

Work-related play, rooted in the traditional ture villagf cooperative farming method, includes competitions and the singing of folk songs, all serving to increase productivity by motivating the farmhands to work harder.

Incantatory Rites and Games There has been a growing recognition of the contributions of games ~iated with the ture form of cooperative farming. In fac~ many scholars believe ture games deserve recognition as part of the agricultural process. What then are we to make of the annual incantatory rites and ceremonial games that are performed away from the fields during the off-season? As mentioned earlier, these games and rites are generally linked to holiday activities and express the farmers' ardent wish for good harvests and village prosperity. Do they perform the same function as torerelated games? Can they enhance crop growth too? Or are they completely unrelated to what happens "down on the farm'? Since these rites and games are ritualistic and incantatory by definition, they may seem unrelated to practical matters, such as plant growth, but perhaps we should look closer. Villagers believe that these rites and games must be performed in order to ensure a good h arvest. During the Japanese colonial rule when such activities were banned, villagers risked arrest to carry out their traditions. Clearly, there is more to rites and games than blind convention or a simple-minded belief in the power of magic. Modern society's assumption that they are mat27

ters of custom or superstition has never been verified through a rigid evaluation. In recent years, however, there has been a growing recognition of the arrogance of the rationalist position. This has led to the rise of reductionism, poststructuralism and postmodernism, which move in a positive, transmodern direction. That is to say, contemporary analysis is moving in an introspective direction, overcoming the limitations of rationalism that have influenced the field in the modern era. Although modern rationalism understands cognition and objects from the polar forms of the subjective and objective, Hans-Georg Gadamer, a German philosopher known for his analysis of prejudices, rejects this approach as artificial and overly technical. Gadamer explores instead the concept of a horizontal fusion (Horizontverschmelzung) in which a scholar's own situation plays a role in his or her understanding of an event or phenomenon. The concept liberates the scholar from his or her own narrow experience, transforming the scholar in relation to the subject of the research. Thus, postmodern analysis transforms the scholar's world view, stimulating a creative understanding of the object under consideration, achieving a new understanding of the object and the transformation of the scholar's own self. Mircea Eliade, a historian of religion and specialist in myth and symbolic language, once said, "Creative analysis is one of life's skills, a theoretical ideal that can transform the quality of existence by transforming humanity." Too often scholars have defined the world according to their own preconceptions, attributing meaning according to their own values. Studies of incantatory rites and ceremonial games are just one example of this tendency. It is necessary to take a new look at these practices, focusing on the practices and circumstances themselves, instead of reiterating scholarly assumptions about villagers' desires for prosperity and fertility. Only then can research transform our lives and offer new ways of living. 28

Tug-of-War's Influence on Crops Of all the incantatory games, the tugof-war is most common. Rites honoring changsung spirit poles, py61shin kut, a shamanic rite and village-wide festival dating from ancient times, and chishin palki, an annual village rite honoring the earth god, are also commonly practiced, but the tug-of-war is the most well established. Scholars generally believe the tug-of-war is held at the first full moon of the new year as a rite to pray for a bountiful harvest and protection against natural disaster and a poor harvest in the coming year. However, the question that must be asked is whether the rite has any direct influence on crop growth. A consideration of the specific productive functions of tug-of-wars might reveal answers to more general questions about incantatory games and local rites. Koreans have traditionally celebrated four major holidays: SOl, or New Year's Day, the first day of the lunar new year; Taeborum, the first full moon on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month; Tano, the fifth day of the fifth lunar month; and, Ch'usok, the Harvest Moon Festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month. A number of folk games and ceremonies have been handed down with these holidays, but interestingly, most are concentrated around Taeborum. All the games and rites performed around Taeborum are characterized by an incantatory tradition of appealing for a good harvest. Among these are the tug-of-war, nottari palki (princess bridge) in which "princesses" walk across a bridge of human backs, and kanggangsullae, a â&#x201A;Źircle dance performed by women. These games and rites are also performed around the time of the Harvest Moon Festival, when women's participation is particularly noteworthy. Both the princess bridge and kanggangsullae are performed by women in the evening. Women also actively participate in tug-of-wars. The sun and daylight are generally associated with the male, whereas the

A scene from a tug-of-war

moon and night are associated with the female. The first full moon symbolizes fertility and abundance. Sol, the lunar New Year, is based on the earth's orbit of the sun and therefore is a masculine holiday. It represents ties of consanguinity and thus is a time for memorial ceremonies honoring ancestors. Taeborum is set in accordance to the moon's cycle and is thought to be a feminine holiday. It represents regional or village ties and thus is an occasion for rites honoring village deities. Around the time of the first full moon, women perform games and rites praying for fertility and abundance. The kanggangsullae circle dance is symbolic of seasonal changes, reflecting the ardent desire for a bountiful harvest. The princess bridge game in a way imitates the sexual act and thus represents the longing for fertility and abundance. The most dynamic and largest folk game of this genre, however, is the tug-of-war. The tug-of-war is preceded by a long and complicated preparation process. Since our interest is in the function of this game-Is it simply an incantatory rite or does it have a tangible influence on crop growth?-! will focus on only its three most basic stages: preparations for the game, the competition itself, and the final scene. The gathering of straw and the making of the rope form the core of the preparation process and are quite separate from the storage of the rope. Musicians play farmers' music as villagers go from house to house collecting straw and money for the village rite. This is all considered part of the rite appealing for a bountiful harvest, and therefore villagers are happy to donate straw. Rope-makers then gather to twist the straw into rope. When they are finished, the rope symbolizes a dragon, a god of agriculture, or male and female parts. The sacred rope must be carefully protected from contamination. The villagers guard it day and night and are especially careful that it is not contaminated by contact with women. However, women without male offspring are anxious to touch the rope for 30

it is reputed to have the power to help women produce sons. The villagers think of the rope not as a toy but as a sacred being that enhances productivity and stimulates vitality. Having sons and planting rice are life-giving activities. That is why Koreans often refer to child-rearing as a kind of "human agriculture." In the tug-of-war, villagers see rice straw as a product of agriculture, and even as the promise of a bountiful human "crop," that is, fertility in the years ahead. The rope represents life and the promise of a good harvest Therefore, it is treated with much respect Before it is taken to the site of the tug-of-war, the rope is placed before the shrine honoring the tutelary deity and a simple shamanic rite is performed. Then the musicians begin to play and the rope is taken to the tug-of-war site. On the way, both men and women try to ride the rope for it is said to have magical powers. They must pay a price for the ride, though, because the rope is believed to give long life to all who ride it This belief in the rope's magical powers is even more evident at the site of the tug-of-war. The rope is divided into "male" and "female" sides, and two people, one dressed as a man, the other as a woman, climb up on the rope. When the two ends meet in an imitation of the sexual act, the crowd dances and makes bawdy comments. A similar scene is found in the rites honoring spirit posts. These rites often include a "wedding," uniting the male and female spirit posts, as well as a wedding night in which the sexual act is referred to explicitly. The union of male and female characters in the sexual act is also a common feature of masked dance dramas. In one, the two main characters engage in intercourse and produce a child. Many rituals performed by shamans also make blatant references to the sexual act and contain graphic portrayals of childbirth. These references to and portrayals of intercourse and childbirth have always been interpreted as incantatory rites praying for fertility and a good harvest.

When the female team wins the tugof-war, it is generally believed that a good harvest will ensue, though in some regions, villagers interpret any result as a harbinger of a bountiful crop. In P'yonghae Village, Ulchin-gun, Kyongsangbukdo, a victory by the male dragon team means a good rice harvest, a victory by the female (tiger) team a bumper crop of barley. There is a relatively greater chance of a poor harvest when the tug-of-war does not take place, thus indicating that there is more to the custom than simple belief or superstition. After the tug-of-war, the rope is used in various ways depending on the region: in some villages, it is wrapped around the sacred village tree; in others, it is cut up and spread over fields as fertilizer or used as fodder for cattle. In fishing villages, it is often used for lines on fishing boats. This is because the rope is thought to be lucky, but its use as fodder and fertilizer suggests practical benefits, apart from its incantatory or religious significance.

Emotions and Plant Growth A foundation for the belief that the activities surrounding the tug-of-war positively affects crop growth, to a certain extn~ has been provided by botanical research. Because agriculture involves interaction between humans and plants, accurate results cannot be expected from scientific research that focuses on the human aspect of folk games or play while ignoring botanical evidence. The direct influence of human emotions and thoughts on plants has been demonstrated in numerous cases. The most representative research is that of botanist C. Backster. He used a galvanometer to show that plants, and even leaves removed from plants, reacted to human thoughts. His research also suggested that plants, which were particularly familiar with a certain person, could sense that person's feelings from a distance of a kilometer or more. Marcel Vogel of the IBM Research Center in La Gaude, France, followed up on Backster's findings. He picked two

Kanggangsullae, a circle dance performed by women

stalks of creeping saxifrage from his garden and placed one by his bedside and the other in his living room. Each morning when he woke up, he told the flower at his bedside to keep growing, but he ignored the plant in the living room. After one month, the plant in the living room was brown and shriveled, but the one by his bedside was still fresh. From this, he concluded that plants sense human feelings. The influence of the sexual act on plant growth has been considered in scientific experiments as well. Research on the effect of simulated sexual acts, such as the tug-of-war, on plant growth are now underway. It is interesting to note that scientists who rejected Vogel's findings on plant sensitivity to human feelings have been won over by more recent experiments. Vogel invited psychologists, doctors, computer programmers and other scientists who questioned Âˇ

his earlier findings to observe his experiments. In one experiment he threatened plants, either in thought or action, but there was no response. The observers began to criticize his experiments, then one observer started talking about sex. Only then did the plants come to life. From this result, the scientists concluded that orgone, a kind of sexual energy, had come into play. The Austrian psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich was the first to discuss the existence of -a sexual energy, known as orgone, which he believed permeated the universe and could influence human behavior. Several plant physiologists have also suggested that plant growth may also be stimulated by exposure to this sexual energy.

Power of a Full Moon The concentration of folk games around the first full moon is linked to

the practical functions of these games. The night of the full moon is, of course, the brightest night of the month and therefore is suited to festivities. Botanist Louis Kervran has argued that the moon's gravitational pull has an important influence on plant growth; he rejects the general assumption that plants need only water and light to grow. Alick Mcinnes, who has devoted his life to the study of the effects of radiation on plants, has noted that flower blossoming peaks as the full moon approaches. Both studies suggest that the moon has certain properties that stimulate the blossoming and the life force of plants. In this context, it can be seen that holding folk games at the time of the full moon, when the power of the life-giving moon is believed greatest, is an effective means of stimulating crop growth, the fundamental purpose of traditional folk games. + 31

MASK DANCES AND RECREATIONAL CULTURE Chang Han-ki Professor of Drama and Film Dongguk University

Masks served a variety of purposes, the most important being to disguise the wearer's identity so that he or she could exercise supernatural and magical power. The dancers believed that they became a different person when they put on a mask and assumed the character's power.

mong the many forms of traditional recreation in Korea, nong-ak, farmers' music and dance, and t'alch'um, mask dance, may be the two most interesting and representative. Most folk festivals begin with the playing of. the blaring and lively nongak music, and end with a performance of t'alch' urn. The nong-ak creates excitement and encourages audience participation, and the t'alch'um brings the excitement to a climax. Games and other forms of play such as swinging, wrestling, and ch'aj6n nori (juggernaut battle) are always a part of folk festivals. However, the dynamic and impulsive sounds of drums, gongs,

and other percussion and wind instruments of nong-ak and t'alch'um can best mesmerize a large crowd of people and induce their participation in the festival. No individual games such as wrestling or swinging are so highly illustrative of the Korean spirit of cooperation as nong-ak ot t'alch'um. In t'alch'um, the dancers wear exoticlooking masks that identify the gender of their character. The characters sing, make jokes and sometimes utter curses or felicitous remarks. Indeed, t'alch'um is a unique form of folk art expressed through stories that can make the audience laugh, cry or shout as they identify with the joys and sufferings being depicted.

There are slow and fast t'alch'um dances, and the music ranges from high notes to low melodies. The dialogue alternates between fast and slow parts and includes both dignified and vulgar words. The dancing, mime, dialogue and narration all reflect the emotions and sentiments of the Korean people. Most nations have a mask dance tradition. The mask dances of Japan, China and ancient Greece reflect the folk beliefs of those countries. For example, the tragedies, comedies and satires performed during the Greek national festival "Dionysia" are said to have originated from a type of mask dance. Masks served a variety of purposes,

the most important being to disguise the wearer's identity so that he or she could exercise supernatural and magical power. The dancers believed that they became a different person when they put on a mask and assumed the character's power. Such perception may be understood as actors undergoing a selftransformation to play a given role. Indeed, the masks and incantations handed down with the various t'alch'um profoundly effect the performers. For example, when wearing a lion mask, the dancer becomes as brave as a lion. The mask of an aristocrat or butcher not only changes the dancer' s

appearance but also gives him or her a new sense of identity. The masks are believed to give the dancers some kind of magical power through which they can become completely free and uninhibited. Such is the essence of the mask dance dramas. The dancers forget their social positions and inhibitions as they become totally engrossed in their character and the performance. Sometimes, such concentration enables the dancers to exert nearly supernatural power. In ancient times, many shamans boasted of their supernatural powers and actually possessed power unimaginable by common peo-

ple. They may have been able to achieve such power because they truly believed in its existence. In many of the modern mask dance dramas, the servant Malttugi and the slave Swettugi, who were among the most deprived and lowly people of society, became the most powerful and outspoken once they put on the masks. They give orders to aristocrats and gentlemen scholars and make fun of them in a degrading manner. They also come between the rich decadent nobleman and his young concubine and play pranks on apostate Buddhist monks. Such behavior can be understood as a

A scene from the Yangju Pyolsandae Mask Dance 33

demonstration of their supernatural power and the power of the masks.

Purpose-oriented Dance Mask dances were perfoFmed in ancient times less for the sake of pleasure than as a means to prevent and control misfortune, illness or mishaps. Korea's mask dances for the most part originated from shamanism and other popular beliefs. Two of the most remarkable Korean classics, the Ch'oyongmu, a court dance from the Shilla period (57 B.C.-A.D. 935), and the Narye ritual of the Koryo period (918-1392) reveal such influences. According to ancient books and records, the dancers of the Shilla Kingdom were best known for their dances to exorcizie the spirit of epidemics. Similarly, the Narye ritual of Koryo was performed to exorcise all evil spirits from the court before the lunar new year. In some parts of the country, such rituals were carried out in the form of chishin palki (treading on the earth god). Because these dances were a sort of exorcism ritual, they were seen as possessing supernatural power, which may be the' reason these dances have continued to be passed down through the ages. From ancient times, every ceremony, ritual or festival began with an offering of sacrifice to the spirits. The offerings were made to welcome the spirits in

the hope of receiving supernatural power from them. The Ch'oyong Dance and Narye ritual may be the most representative examples of the folk performances embodying supernatural power. Then, if the exhibition of such supernatural power is the primary element in mask dance dramas, what can be its fundamental purpose, a second factor? Mask dances are usually performed for a purpose and to arouse an awareness of that purpose after the dance is invested with supernatural power. The Muaemu, No Hinderance Dance, which was developed by W onhyo (617-684), a famous monk of the Shilla era, is a prime example of this intent. Through the Muaemu, Wonhyo succeeded in making Buddhism popular and applicable to the daily lives of people of all classes. As a result, public sentiment was united and this ultimately contributed to the unification of the three kingdoms by Shilla. In Shilla of Wonhyo' s time, Buddhism was the religion of only the noble class, the royal family and the upper-nobility called ch'in-gol (true bone). The public had no opportunity to experience Buddhism, much less understand its profound teachings. As such, the establishment of any kind of bonds between the upper and lower classes was a virtual impossibility. To rectify this situation, Wonhyo created the Muaemu. The

Mask dances were performed in ancient times Jess for the sake of pleasure than as a means to prevent and control misfortune, illness or mishaps. Korea's mask dances for the most part originated from shamanism and other popular beliefs. Today folk plays and performances exist for the sake of giving pleasure. And the mask dances are no exception. The enjoyment derives from the satire and humor of the characters.

word Muae comes from a verse in the Avatamsaka Sutra: "Anyone who can be unhindered by all things, can be free from the trivialities of life and death." According to legend, Wonhyo had a love affair with a royal princess, Yosok, the daughter of King Muyol (r. 654-661). After the son of their union, Solch'ong, was born, Wonhyo became an apostate monk Wearing secular clothes and an acrobat's mask,Wonhyo went around the nation singing and dancing the Muae song and Muae dance. People of the lower classes and the general public at once took a liking to the easy-to-follow tune and dance. By learning the lyrics of the song, they learned about the Buddhist religion and developed a greater sense of solidarity. This unity became the spiritual basis that led to Shilla' s victory in the unification wars that lasted more than 100 years . There is also the story of Kwanch'ang, the son of Pumil, who, despite his young age, led a battle against the neighboring Paekche Kingdom and was killed. Out of respect for the bravery and patriotism demonstrated by the Shilla warrior, Paekche' s General Kyebaek returned Kwanch'ang' s body to his people. The grieving people created a mask to commemorate him and danced the Kwanch'ang Dance to pay tribute to his bravery. The dance also served to arouse hostility against Paekche. Similarly, most of the mask dances performed during this time were developed to accomplish a certain purpose and arouse a sense of awareness.

Entertaining Ingredients What then can be the third important factor of mask dances? Based on the premise that all customs and traditions including folk games are bound to change with time, it can be said that plays change as well. In other words, from the time when mask dances were originated to promote religious beliefs and demonstrate supernatural power, folk performances began to serve dualistic purposes and arouse psychological awareness. However, mask dances 36

began to slowly lose such social purposes and increasingly serve as a form of entertainment. However, this in no way implies that there is no social purpose to humorous mask dance dramas. One of the most distinct changes that occurred in mask dance dramas is that they took on a comic tone which is also part of modern mask dance dramas. Originally Korea' s traditional mask dance dramas were not humorous or lively, and sometimes there is more solemnity in these mask dances than in any tragedy. In the Pongsan Mask Dance and the Yangju Pyolsandae Mask Dance Drama, there are several scenes in which not a word is uttered and the mime and dance in these scenes are particularly slow and deliberate: The "Dance of the Old Monk," the highlight of the Yangju Pyolsandae Mask Dance, is a good example of the deliberate use of silence. The "Old Monk" is constantly silent and the target of jokes and mockery by his servant, Mokchung, and the "Little Shaman," Somu. The Old Monk, nonetheless, conducts himself in a deliberate manner. Typical of Korea's mask dance characters, each character in the drama seems nonchalant. The dialogue, however, is often indecent and vulgar. But it is balanced by the solemn and serious lyrics of the songs and tempo of the dances. When the words of the songs and felicitous remarks are delivered in a leisurely, lyrical manner, the playing of horn and percussion instruments stops. Then, the pantomime and dance immediately become fast and energetic, enlivening the whole scene. Altho ugh the Old Monk always dances slowly, performing dance movements called samjinsamt'oe, sabangch'igi and k6di1ri1m, which are usually accompanied by slow music, as the music switches to livelier rhythms, the other dancers move faster. The slow a nd quick changes in tempo are not limited to the Dance of the Old Monk. All mask dances have similar rhythm and tempo changes set the proper mood.

When the scene changes, everything returns to the original quiet tempo and then the tempo and rhythms begin to change again. Such repetitive changes are closely related to the temperament of the Korean people and are the spirit and heartbeat of Korea' s mask dances. Folk plays and performances exist for the sake of giving pleasure. And the mask dances are no exception. The enjoyment derives from the satire and humor of the characters. The characters in the Ogwangdae and Sandaeguk dramas such as Pittul Yangban (Faltering Nobleman), 6nchaeng-i Saennim (Harelip Gentleman), Malttugi (Servant), P'odobujang (Police Inspector) and Somu (Little Shaman) all have funny-looking masks which caricature their distinct characteristics. The caricaturing is intended to be amusing; there is no reason to look for deep meaning in the mask dances. The idea is to be entertained by the vulgar language, jokes, humorous dialogue or well-wishing remarks, and the pantomime and dances. The audiences need only to assimilate themselves in the drama by laughing and enjoying themselves and finding the day' s purpose and significance there. This is a recreational culture created through Korea's mask dance dramas. Korea's modern mask dance dramas are basically designed to amuse audiences, although they do contain some tragic elements. Such is an attribute of folk plays which seek some dramatic effect as the pleasure-giving factors develop. This factor may be what has sustained it as a recreational form. Masks provide the plays with dramatic elements. The masks themselves may contain some significance and trigger the imagination of the audiences. A good example is the Buddhist Prayer Dance of Japan. The mask dance is performed shortly before or after August 15 in many villages and temples. The first dance of the drama, the Drum Dance, begins as a purposeful dance abou t Buddhist prayers. However, the dances that follow fea-

A scene from the Songp'a Sandaenori Mask Dance

ture erotic love stories between a couple while characters including a pregnant woman (similar to the Little Shaman, Somu, in Korean mask dances), a lion and a spider engage in a rather fierce dance. Many similarities can be found in the mask dance dramas of the two countries; for example, each scene deals with an independent story. The Japanese mask dance drama begins with the reading of a Buddhist prayer and this purely rhythmic recitation develops into the dramatic scenes that follow. The Buddhist Prayer Dance is popular in temples and among the general public and is performed nowadays as a form of entertainment rather than as a Buddhist ritual The dance, which was originally performed on the day ances-

tral rites were held, has evolved into different versions at various temples. The dance is now performed on numerous occasions including funerals, rites to pray for rain, agricultural events and many others. However, the dance itself is performed simply to entertain. Similarly, Korean mask dances also developed to include various dramatic scenes as i result of the need to provide entertainment. There are few folk performances as fun, amusing and culturally significant as Korea's modern mask dances. As mentioned earlier, Korea's mask dances have changed according to the times but the significance of the masks themselves has not changed and many have a place in the Korean people's hearts. First, masks symbolized power,

then they were used for a purpose. Now, masks have developed as a very complex form of recreation. Some mask dances protest the trends of the times and some use vulgar and satirical language toward aristocrats and corrupt religious leaders, criticizing social classes. But above all, th ey add a humorous touch to the hardships and sufferings of co mm on people a nd enable the audience to laugh and temporarily forget their difficulties. The mask dances of Korea encourage the spirit of working for a better future and aspirations for a new beginning. They feature tenacious characters who have the strength and endurance to cope with life's difficulties and the ability to impart a measure of wisdom through their performances. + 37

INTERVIEW

HaPo-gyOng Carrying on a Spirited Dance Tradition Chung Byung-ho Professor Emeritus, Chungang University Member, Cultural Property Committee

he county of Miryang in Kyongsangnam-do Province has long been known for its physical beauty, fertile land and temperate climate which allows farmers to plant crops year round. Thanks to its many natural endowments, Miryang has had a rich agrarian culture since ancient times. Masked dance ensembles and group games were particularly popular as so much of the region's agricultural tasks were traditionally carried out on a collective basis, using the ture village cooperative farming method. Many of these customs live on today. Of special interest are the local rite honoring the god of agriculture, the Dance of the Five Drums (Obukch'um), the Aristocrat's Dance (Hallyangmu), the Dance of the Commoners (Pombuch'um) and the Cripples' Dance (Pyongshinch'um), all part of a festival known as Miryang Paekchung Nori. The festival is thought to have originated from Buddhist and Taoist customs which were incorporated in boisterous celebrations of dancing and drinking by local peasants after the final round of paddy weeding. Village elders selected a fortuitous day around the time of the Buddhist All Souls' Day in the middle of the seventh lunar month for a rite honoring the god of agriculture. The most able farmer was chosen chief officiant for the ceremony. No one is sure how or why the Dance of the Five Drums, the Dance of Commoners and the Cripples' Dance

HaPogyong

became part of the Paekchung Nori festivities, but scholars assume that the Dance of the Five Drums derives from the ture cooperative farming tradition and ancient ceremonies associated with the worship of the Five Elements of traditional cosmology so common in the southeastern region of the Korean Peninsula. Paekchung Nori

The Paekchung Nori festivities begin with nong-ak, the vibrant percussion music of the Korean farmers. A team of musicians performs the rousing music as village elders purify the ritual site, calling forth the "generals" of the five directions (North, East, South,

West and center) to drive away evil spirits in a ceremony known as the "Exorcism of the Five Directions" ( Obanggut). A tall pole, called nongshindae, is erected in a corner of the ritual site. It is made of 360 hemp stalks, symbolizing the 360 days of a lunar year. From it hang ten "dragons" made of straw rope. The villagers. gather around the sacred pole, their pockets filled with rice, beans, money or written prayers. They grab hold of the "dragon" ropes and circle the pole, then fall to the ground in three deep bows, laying out their offerings of grain or money and praying for good fortune as the chief officiant reads an invocation. This rite is followed by masked dances, and then the chief officiant is lifted onto a "horse" made of a wooden back-pack carrier, together with offerings for the spirits. He is carried around the ritual site amid much dancing and merrymaking. The chief officiant, a peasant himself, sticks out his chest, pretending to be a yangban aristocrat. This signals the beginning of the Aristocrat's Dance. Then the farmhands and kitchen maids emerge from the crowd to entertain onlookers with the Cripples' Dance, in which they imitate the movements of lepers, cripples and other unfortunates. The Cripples' Dance is thought to have originated in the latter years of the Choson period, a time of extreme hardship for the common people, but there is no hard evidence to back up this theory. The

movements of the dance do, however, suggest a satiric attack on the oppressive yangban elite and sympathy for the downtrodden common folk The focus of the gathering soon shifts to the improvisational Dance of the Commoners, a lively and humorous swinging of the arms and legs. This dance is followed by the Dance of the Five Drums, which begins with four drummers positioned in the North, East, South and West, with a single drummer standing in the middle. The drummer-dancers begin slowly but gradually build up to a rapid and deafening beat which mirrors the intensity of their dance. The Paekchung Nori festival ends when the dancers and the surrounding onlookers join in a boisterous dance called hotunch'um, literally "unstructured dancing." Intangible Cultural Asset

Miryang has produced many fine dancers and musicians, because it was a hub of activity for the sadangp'ae, wandering folk entertainment troupes, and heavily influenced by kisaeng female entertainers. Today, five talented folk entertainers, including octogenarian Ha Pogyong, have been designated "important intangible cultural assets" for their expertise in Miryang Paekchung Nori. Yi Kang-sok specializes in the Cripples' Dance and Ha has been recognized for his mastery of the Dance of the Five Drums and the Commoners' Dance. In fact, he is the sole master of the latter dance and is recognized throughout the country for his skill in traditional folk dance. Ha was born in Miryang in 1906. His parents were both members of a local farmers' music troupe, so he was naturally more interested in music and dance than in studying. Throughout his childhood, he accompanied his parents on their tours of the southeastern Korean countryside, and at the age of 15, he took up the drum him self. Despite his youth, Ha's Drum Dance 40

bordered on perfection, and the villagers were soon calling him the "Boy Drummer." His parents refused to allow their son to neglect his studies entirely, however, and at the age of 18, he was forced to enroll in Miryang Primary School. But Ha remained devoted to the drum and dance and did not excel in academics. A year later, he joined his parents' troupe officially as he was recognized for his artistic skills. He married a girl from his village the same year, but showed little interest in family life or farming. All he cared about was dancing and drumming. Ha spent the next few years wandering from one wrestling match to another where professional entertainers were always needed. His father once asked him to take an ox to market for sale, and young Ha used the proceeds of the sale to gallivant off to Manchuria. On the return trip, short of money, he had to work as a laborer in distant Kanggye, P'yong-anbuk-do Province. His father was devastated by his son's disloyalty and died shortly thereafter. Ha's bitter experience working in the north and his father's death were terrible shocks, but he found it hard to break old habits. His wandering life continued for decades; then, in the early 1970s, he returned, empty handed, to his hometown to found a Traditional Music Society. He convinced the county's finest dancers to participate, but the association was not a success. He changed its name to the Folklore Preservation Society and has spent the last two decades working to preserve and systematize traditional folk arts. Ha began to enjoy national recognition for his dance skills when Miryang Paekchung Nori was designated Important Intangible Cultural Asset No. 18. In 1980, he received the prime minister's award at the annual National Folk Arts Contest, and since then he has performed throughout the country and in the United States and Japan. Critics at home and abroad laud him as

"a born dancer" who has broken "new spiritual ground" with his work Ha, on the other hand, is ambivalent about his achievements. "I have never contributed a cent to my family or household. My family has gone through terrible times because of me," he said with a sigh. Aristocrat's Dance

Ha is not simply an expert in the Drum Dance. He also excels in the Aristocrat's Dance and the Dance of the Commoners. He learned the Aristocrat's Dance from one of the members of his parents' troupe. For this dance, he dons a black horsehair hat and a white top'o robe and carries a folding fan, all symbols of the yangban elite. The Aristocrat's Dance is characterized by its sweeping arm motions, gentle "shoulder dance," or okkaech'um, and understated foot movements. The dance is performed, not to the sedate music of the komungo, kayagum or p'iri, but to the raucous tones of the farmers' band. The origins of the Aristocrat's Dance are uncertain. It is, however, quite different from the Aristocrat's Dance performed by masked dance performers of southeastern Korea. In the masked dance versions of the southeast, paegimsae, or impromptu arm and foot movements, is prevalent, while in the Miryang version of the dance, the movements are much broader. In the Miryang Aristocrat's Dance, both arms are brought up to form a straight line with the shoulders on the first beat, while the right foot is set forward. On the second beat, the arms undulate in a wave motion, and the left foot is set forward. On the third beat, the left arm is raised slightly above the left shoulder, and the two shoulders are lifted in a gentle bouncing motion. Op the fourth beat, the right arm is raised above the right shoulder and the right foot is lifted. The dance is unique for th e asymmetry of the shoulder motions and the lifting of one foot. Pombu of Pombuch'um, or

Ha Po-gyong is recognized nationwide for his skill in traditional folk dance. He is especially famous for the Aristocrat's Dance (left). Group dances are a feature of the festival known asMiryang Âˇ Paekchung Nori (below).

Commoners' Dance, literally means "lowly person," but in this dance it refers to petty local officials who often inherited their posts. Like so many traditional dances, its origins are uncertain but many people believe that it originated in the late Chason Dynasty when wealthy local farmers of low social rank tried to pass themselves and their families off as members of the yangban elite. Ha Po-gyong has been performing this dance for more than 50 years and, now on the verge of 90, exudes a sense of satirical origins of this dance. His age does not prevent him from grabbing a drum and gently flowing with the music that has been such an important part of his remarkable life and the life of the people of Miryang. â&#x20AC;˘

KOREAN MUSIC SINCE LIBERATION HISTORY AND SOURCE MATERIALS Song Bang-song Professor of Korean Musicology Yeungnam University

orean society is passing through a transitional period of great changes, and the musical community is no exception. Since the conclusion of the Uruguay Round trade negotiations in 1993, competition is everywhere and Koreans are under mounting pressure to get ahead, overcoming new challenges. Like it or not, there is no avoiding the competition in the changing world order, and the Korean musical community must study ways to respond to international trends. Of all the relevant

K 42

requisites, creativity is the most fundamental response to a challenge; it is the most promising element in the improvement of the quality of life in the twenty-first century and it is a vital means by which Koreans can achieve "internationalization" or "globalization." In the musical world, creativity is all the more necessary for composers who play the primary role in inducing changes in the melding of Western and traditional composition techniques. Although traditional music serves as the foundation for the future development of a wholesome national musical

genre, it has been generally regarded as a relic of the past and thus been quite removed from everyday lives. In fact, many Korean music scholars have tended to make traditional music seem stiff and lifeless, like an animal stuffed for display in a museum. They have also failed to take an independent posture in accommodating Western music. In this respect, Korean musicologists today have two major tasks: accommodating Western techniques in an autonomous manner and promoting and carrying on Korean traditional music in a creative way. In addition, they must cultivate a

historical consciousness and the recognition of Korean culture's historic accomplishments.

Composition of Western Music When one reviews the developments in both the Western music and traditional Korean music communities since liberation from japanese colonial rule in 1945, achievements by composers were relatively less conspicuous than those of performers. Whereas considerable advances in individual skill are possible for the performing artists, composition depends on both the composer and his or her surrounding environment. For many years, the creative environment was colored by political considerations, particularly after the Korean War and the successive military dictatorships that lasted for three decades till the 1980s. Composers were naturally inhibited by political pressures. In his survey of Korean music, Yi Kang-suk suggested that post-liberation composers of Western music could be divided into three groups or generations. Kim S6ng-t'ae, Yi Hung-ry61 and Kim Tong-jin best represent the first generation who adopted Western techniques and theories of the nineteenth century to serve Korean purposes. The first generation faced many limitations, but are recognized for their pioneering work in the development of kagok, short songs similar to the Germanic lied. The second generation sought to overcome the limitations of their predecessors. From the late 1960s, these composers, including Kang S6k-hUi, Paek Py6ng-dong and Kim Chong-gil, attempted to rise above the backwardness of early Korean composition and actively employ Western theories. They believed they had to rapidly absorb twentieth century Western composition techniques if they were to liberate Korea's creative community from its historical backwardness. just as Korea's economic planners sought economic development through the import of advanced technology, the young composers strived to learn the modern

The Korean music community should not only be concerned about the need to preserve the nation's music traditions, but also boldly avoid the narrow revivalist or chauvinistic tendency and work for the creative development of the genre.

composition techniques of the West, focusing on instrumental music, rather than the kagok and other vocal genres of the first-generation composers. Among the second-generation group were a number of young composers who believed that the composition of true "Korean music" was impossible if composers clung to Western techniques. These young composers, including Yi K6n-yong and Yu Py6ng-6m, became part of a third generation of modern musicians who insisted on overcoming the musical "futility" of their predecessors. They were interested in the question, "For whom are we composing?" During the 1980s, they led a movement to develop "Korean" musical theory. Interestingly, the kagok of the first generation are most widely known among the Korean people. The modern works of the second and third generations are generally performed just once at an introductory recital and never heard again. They have little appeal to the average citizen and are rarely broadradio or television. Thus an cast on -' objecti':e appraisal of. their role in the development of modern, Korean music may have to be deferred until the next century. Any discussion of the composition of Western-style music in'-the ROSt-libera" an introduction period must include tion of Yun !-sang, a Korean-born cQH1poser who lived in Germany for many years until he died there in Novembef 1995. Yun was recognized by Western music experts as a world-class composer of modern music. However, his technique is not necessarily a model for the incorporation of elements from Korean traditional music into modern music.â&#x20AC;˘ His music certainly has significance in the West, the home of modern music, but we cannot yet be certain of its significance in Korea. The Oriental images evoked in Yun's works might have originated from Korea's traditional music, but it must be noted that they were little more than a tool, creating an overt impression of Korean tradition. The only way to define Yun's role in the his43

tory of Korean music is to ask, "For whom did he compose?" Noteworthy in this regard is a remark made by Dieter M. Ayer, a professor of Korean studies at Tubingen University: "To say Yun !-sang's music is 'Korean' is little more than a preconception, even though in his music we find a distinctive, aesthetic value system that has not been seen in Western music before."

Composition of Korean Music Composers of Korean music can be divided into two generations. The first generation, best represented by Kim Kisu and Yi Kang-d6k, did not have any formal training in Western theory, and thus their works never transcended a level of imitation. Following the establishment of a department of Korean music at Seoul National University's College of Music in 1959, a second generation of composers dedicated to Korean music began to emerge in the latter half of the 1960s. Among them w ere Yi Song-ch'6n, Kim Yong-jin, Paek Tae-ung and Pak Porn-hun. These composers, like the second and third generations of Western music composers, have yet to establish a distinctive pattern of composition, and therefore it is premature judgment on them for now. The second generation of Korean music composers are dedicated to the creation of living music, much like their young colleagues in the Western music community. Since liberation, they have made consistent efforts in this direction. The greatest obstacle to the composition of creative works has been a lack of improvement in traditional instruments, e~pcialy for the performance of orchestral pieces. Traditional musical instruments can hardly be modified as one wishes. It is difficult to create instruments capable of producing accurate intervals, generating the necessary amplification, and preserving traditional timbres. Throughout the world, the history of music has been closely related to the history of religion. It is easy to recognize 44

the link between today's Western music and the Catholic music of the Middle Ages. Similarly, Korea's traditional music has been influenced by Buddhist and Confucian music. Moreover, the Christian music introduced from the West since the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries has, together w ith traditional Buddhist and Confucian influence, served as the foundation for the new Korean music. With this rich background, the potential for Korean music's development should not be underestimated. The Korean music community should not only be concerned about the need to preserve the nation's musical traditions, but also boldly avoid the narrow revivalist or chauvinistic tendency and work for the creative development of the genre. By the same token, the Western music community must break free from the first and second generations' tendency toward imitation to take an autonomous approach in accommodating Western music, thus contributing to the advancement of Korea's national music history. The last 50 years of music in Korea can be characterized as a series of experiments, of trials and errors, which have not produced any truly important works because the composers themselves have not yet defined a clear musical direction. In every society, music history is made by new, creative works. But it does not seem that Korea's music history is flowing in a positive direction. One reason for this lack of positive development is the tragic division of Korea caused by ideological conflict. Now is the time for Korea's music elite to unite and move beyond simple imitations to crea te Korean music for a united Korea and a Pacific era in the next century.

Musicology and Publications The term ''Korean musicology" (hanguk umakhak) has often been understood as synonymous with kugakhak, study of Korea's traditional music. But, it essentially means either the "musicolo-

gy of Korea" or "Korean musicology," with which this essay is concerned. The Korean Musicology Society, initially established as Kugak hakhoe in 1948 and now called the Han-guk kugak hakhoe, launched the postliberation academic study of Korean music. In 1959, Seoul National University opened its department of Korean music kugak, laying a firm foundation for the pursuit of musicological studies in this genre. Again, a categorization of Korean musicologists into generations would help understand the subject. Chang Sahun (1916-1991) and Lee Hye-ku (1909- ), both charter members of the Korean Musicology Society, could be called the first generation. They not only promoted the academic pursuit of Korean music to match other fields of Korean studies, but also worked hard to cultivate a new generation of musicologists. Among their students at Seoul 'National University were Kwon 0-song, Song Bang-song, Han My6ng-hUi and Han Man-y6ng. The third generation of musicologists includes Son T'e-ryong, Kim Chong-su and N~m Sang-suk. Chang and Lee formed the foundation of Korean musicology, and they each produced an enormous number of studies and many talented students who went on to become leading figures in the field. Lee's many published works include Studies in Korean Music, Topics in Korean Music, and Essays on Korean Music. He also translated from classical Chinese the twenty-second volume of Annals of King Sejong the Great, which consists of musical manuscripts, and the two-volume Annotated Translation of ''Akhak kweb6m." These two translated works not only formed the foundation for Lee's overall research but also serve as invaluable resources for younger scholars who are less familiar with Chinese texts. Chang began writing immediately after liberation in 1945. Among his early works was a study of folk songs and traditional instruments used in rural society, published in 1948. His essays are available in numerous collections,

such as Studies in Korean Music, Studies in Korean Traditional Music, The Dawning of Music in the West and Eas~

which discusses both Western and Korean music, Essays on Korean Music History, and The Miscellaneous Writings of Chang Sa-hun. Chang's A Collection of Source Materials for Korean Music provides a

chronological reference to entries related to music in the Annals of the Chason Kingdom, while Chronology of Korean Music offers a detailed supplement to his previous chronological studies, ranging from ancient times to 1990. Essays on Korean Music History consists of Chang's own interpretations of old musical manuscripts and, together with A Collection of Source Materials for Korean Music, serves as the basic text

for the study of Korean music. Chang's Korean Musical Instruments includes

illustrations and describes the function, history and performance techniques of more than 60 traditional instruments. Chang also published several works for nonspecialists. A History of Korean Music offers a systematic overview of the development of Korean music from ancient times to the post-liberation period. Introduction to Korean Music covers traditional music as we know it today, while his Encyclopedia of Korean Music, the fruit of some 30 years of research, offers detailed explanations of items and concepts found throughout the history of Korean music. The second and third generations of Korean musicologists majored in music theory mostly at the Department of Korean Music at Seoul National University. Their publications can be divided into four categories: collections of essays, translations, collections of source materials, and single volume works. Notable essay collections include Paek Tae-ung's Studies of Melodic Structure of Korean Music, my own Studies in Korean Music History, Studies in Ancient Music History of Korea, Studies in Koryo Music History, and Essays in Korean Music History,

and Han Man-yang's Studies in Korean Buddhist Music and Essays on Korean Traditional Music. Paek's Studies of Melodic Structure of Korean Music considers the melodic structure of p'ansori, while Han focuses on Buddhist music in his work Many important historical data is found in collections of documents. The Annotated Translation of "Nangye sonsaeng yugo" by Kwon 0-song and

Kim Se-jong is a translation of Chosen scholar Pak Yon's memorials in classical Chinese to King Sejong in the early fifteenth century. Kim Chong-su's Annotated Translation of "Chiingbo m unhon pigo" is an abridged translation

of documents dealing with music which were compiled toward the end of the Chosen Dynasty. My own Study of "Akchang tiingnok" is a translation of documents from the Royal. Music Institute of the Chosen Dynasty. Other collections of source materials include Cho S6n-u's Source Materials for the History of Korean Catholic Music

and Hong Ch6ng-su's Source Materials for the History of Korean Protestant Church Music I have also published An Annotated Bibliography of Korean Music covering publications prior to 1980. Han My6ng-hui's Miscellaneous Writings on Korean Music is a compila-

tion of useful articles published in monthly music journals. The National Classical Music Institute also published a valuable Subject Index for Musical Accounts in the "Annals of the Chason Kingdoms" in 1991.

A number of books dealing with Korean music have been published in foreign languages. German scholar Andreas Eckardt's Music, Song and Dance in Korea (Musik, Lied, Tanz in Korea) is an introduction to Korea's tra-

ditional music and dance. Keith Howard's Korean Musical Instruments introduces Korean musical instruments with photographs and text. His Bands, Songs and Shamanistic Rituals focuses on the music of Chindo Island off the southern coast of Korea. Robert C. Provine's Drum Rhythms in Korean 45

Farmers' Music is a compilation of scores which the author became familiar with during his study with the drum master Kim Py6ng-s6p. Provine also wrote Essays on Sino-Korean Musicology. Coralie Rockwell's Kagok, A Traditional Korean Vocal Form deals with traditional kagok. Korean musicologists have also published some works in English. Among these are Lee Hye-ku's Essays on Korean Traditional Music, Han Manyang's Studies in Korean Traditional Music, my The Sanjo Tradition of Korean K6mun-go Music and Lee Byong-won's Buddhist Music of Korea. I have also published Korean-Canadian Folk Songs: An Ethnom usicological Study and Source Readings in Korean Music, the latter meant as a source book of primary materials for students majoring in East Asian music at American universities. English-language surveys of Korean music include Chang Sa-hun's Glossary of Korean Music, my own Annotated

The last 50 years of music in Korea can be characterized as a series of experiments, of trials and errors, which have not produced any truly important works because the composers themselves have not defined a clear musical direction.

Bibliography of Korean Music and Performing Arts of Korea, and the National Academy of Arts' Survey of Korean Arts: Traditional Music. Chang's glossary is a translated compilation of the author's radio talks on Korean music. My bibliography surveys publications and dissertations on Korean music through the 1970s. The National Academy of Arts' volume (1974) is an English translation of materials on folk songs, farmers' music, folk games and masked dance drama.

Musical Manuscripts and Recordings The remarkable volume of research produced by Korean musicologists since 1945 is based on the study of old musical manuscripts or documents about music and on the study of actual musical genres, such as folk songs or p'ansori. For this reason, the reproduction of musical manuscripts and the production of audio recordings are essential to the study of Korean music. Let us consider some of the materials available to schol-

ars today. The first facsimile edition of an old manuscript was Shiyong hyang-akpo, published by the East Asian Studies Institute at Yonsei University in 1954. The second was a facsimile edition of the 1610 woodblock edition of Yanggum shinbo, published in 1959 by Tongmun-gwan. These two items contributed greatly to the advancement of Korean musicology. Song books of traditional kagok attracted scholarly interest from early times. Kim Su-jang's Jfaedong kay~ thought to have been written in 1763, and Kagok wollyu and Jfy6mnyul taes6ng are among them. Jfaedong-kayo was published by Ch6ngumsa in 1950. lfy6mnyul taes6ng was published as the seventh volume (1984) of Dongguk University's Korean Language and Literature Sourcebook Series, and Kagok wollyu was published by the Asia Culture Co. in 1973. Âˇ The first reproduction of an old musical manuscript was made in 1943 by Song Sok-ha. Since liberation, many

others have been made available by several scholars including Chang Sa-hun whose contribution accounts for much of the work of this period. Since 1979, the National Classical Music Institute has published a Series of Source Materials

for Korean Musicology. Many cassette tape and record albums of traditional Korean music have been made in recent years in compact discs. Among them, the Anthology of Korean Traditional Music, a 30-LP collection put out by the Shinsegi Record Co. in 1968 is a well-balanced introduction to a variety of traditional music genres. The Selected Anthology of Koiean Traditional Music by Universal Record Co. (1968) is a six-LP collection comprising some of the most important musical pieces. The National Classical Music Institute also puts out three LPs every year as part of its Selections of Korean Music series, while the former Ministry of Culture and Information produced a 40-LP collection of live recordings of 15 "Intangible Cultural Assets" specializing

in the music field. The Encyclopedia of Korean Folk Songs is a 14-cassette collection of folk songs and folk music, prcr duced by MBC Radio, which has also been put out as a CD collection. The past century in Korean history has been a turbulent one, marred by foreign interventions and invasion, and since liberation the nation has been engrossed in a drive toward "modernization." Modernization has often meant "Westernization" and the rejection of Korean traditions. However, Koreans now realize the limits of Westernization and are searching for a new global cultural paradigm, an approach that also affects Korean music. On the threshold of the twenty-first century, it must be remembered that the future does not mean severance from the past. It means learning from the past, planting healthy, solid roots in the present, for development in the future. Only with firm roots can a strong musicology grow in the years ahead. +

The following is a partial bibliography of books on Korean music published in English. Chang Sa-hun, Glossary of Korean Music. Seoul: Radio Management Bureau, Ministry of State Council Administration, 1961. Eckardt, Andreas. Musik, Lied, Tanz in Korea. Bonn: H. Bouvier Co. Verlag, 1968. Hahn Man-young (Han Man-yong). Studies in Korean Traditional Music. Seoul: Tamgu-dang, 1991. Howard, Keith. Korean Musical Instruments. Seoul: Segwang

Music Publishing Co., 1988. _ _. Bands, Songs and Shamanistic Rituals. Seoul:

Segwang Music Publishing Co., 1989. Lee Byong Won (Yi Py6ng-won). Buddhist Music of Korea. Seoul: Korean National Commission of UNESCO, 1987. Lee Hye-ku (Yi Hye-gu). Essays on Korean Traditional Music.

Translated by Robert C. Provine. Seoul: Royal Asiatic Society Korea Branch, 1981. Performing Arts of Korea. Seoul: Korean National Commission for UNESCO, 1975. Provine, Robert C. Drum Rhythms in Korean Farmers' Music. Seoul: Shinjin munhwasa, 1975. _ _ . Essays on Sino-Korean Musicology. Seoul: Ilchisa, 1988.

Rockwell, Coralie. Kagok, a Traditional Korean VOOI.l Fonn. providence: Asian Music Publications, Brown University, 1972. Song Bang-song (Song Pang-song). An Annotated Bibliography of Korean Music. Providence: Asian

Music Produ.ctions, Brown University, 1971. . The Korean-Canadian Folk Songs: An Ethnom usicological Study. Ottawa: Canadian Centre

for Folk Culture Studies, National Museums of Canada, 1974. _ __ . Source Readings in Korean Music. Seoul: Korean National

Commission for UNESC0,1980. _

_ . The Sanjo Tradition of Korean Komun-go Music. Seoul:

Korean National Commission for UNESCO, 1986. Survey of Korean Arts: Traditional Music. Seoul: National Academy

of Arts, 1974.

Âˇ ~

WESTERN MUSIC IN KOREA HanSang-u Music Critic/ Chairman of Music Department Seoul Arts High School

estern music is often thought to have come to Korea around the mid1890s when Protestant missionaries arrived with their Christian hymns. One could say Western music rooted itself in the Korean culture through the transmission of these hymns, but Western music actually came through a variety of channels. For instance, the introduction of Western military band music to the Chason court was important. Despite these influences, however, 35 years of Japanese colonial rule and

W 48

the horrors of the Korean War meant it was not until the late 1950s that Korea was able to lay the foundation for true musical development. Interest in the early education of talented young musicians also began to develop during this period. A closer look at the history of Western music in Korea reveals, however, that the composition of Westernstyle works was taking place as early as the 1920s. Numerous songs were written and performed during the Japanese colonial period (1910-1945) despite the many restrictions and hard-

ships of Japanese rule. The Koryo Symphony Orchestra, Korea's first, was established immediately after liberation from Japanese rule in 1945. In 1948, the International Opera Company, led by tenor Yi Inson, staged Korea's first opera, Verdi's

La Traviata. The Korean War brought these developments to a halt, however, and no significant musical activity was seen until after the armistice in 1953. The founding of Seoul Arts High School in the refugee capital of Pusan in 1953 stim ulated interest in early musical

education and served as the foundation for further development in the field of music education. From the late 1950s, young Korean musicians began to go abroad for training, drawing international attention to the Korean people's musical talents. It was during this period that Korean musicians began to bloom artistically. There has been a tendency, however, to focus on superficial growth, which has in turn resulted in simple quantitative expansion. Thus, as one looks back over the 50 years since liberation, one finds that, while many fine Korean musicians are active on the international stage, Korea has not yet seen the establishment of a genuine music culture. Composition The composition of original music by Korean composers began in the 1920s with Hong Nan-p'a's "Pongsonhwa," but it was not until after liberation and the Korean War Âˇthat composers began to produce their own music. Korea's young composers started heading overseas for music study Âˇ somewhat later than their performing counterparts. It was not until the latter half of the 1960s that they returned to active careers in Korea. Prior to the return of these composers, Na Un-yong, ChOng Hoe-gap, Yi Sang-gun and others were experimenting with modern composition techniques, grafting Korean subject matter onto Western methods. At this point, the music community was divided into conservative and progressive factions. Of these, the younger members, such as Paek Pyong-dong, Kang Sok-hui and Pak Chun-sang, have joined together to narrow the gap with other international composers. Many of the young composers who went overseas to study returned in the 1970s, further vitalizing the domestic composition community. The Korean branch of the International Association of Modern Music, headed by Kang Sokhui, was particularly important in 49

attracting international attention to the Korean composition scene. Among the other groups contributing to local development were the Korean Composers Club, the Asian Composers League, the Women Composers Association and the Third Generation Group. The most serious problem facing Korean composers has been their tendency to ignore the tastes of the audience. It is hoped that the composers will create works that better reach the audience. In order to achieve this, they must incorporate elements of the Korean spirit, even as they use Western composition techniques. This is also the only way that Korean music will gain recognition in the international community.

An orchestra must be a truly professional enterprise which can provide its members with adequate compensation if it is to perform its true task. Korean symphonies must be transformed into professional symphonies and provided artistic backing, such as adequate performance facilities, if Koreans are to have

high-quality music

The KBSSymphony Orchestra in concert

Symphonic Music Immediately following liberation, Korean musicians organized the Koryo Symphony Orchestra. But, full-fledged symphonic music actively took root with the founding of the KBS Symphony Orchestra and the Seoul Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra. Thanks to Lim W on-shik and Kim Saeng-ryo, their respective conductors, Korea saw the development of professional orchestras. It was the Korean Symphony Orchestra under Hong Yon-taik, former conductor of the National Symphony, that opened the way for truly independent, commercial orchestras, however. In addition to performing some 20 regular concerts a year, these symphonies also served as professional

orchestras, performing on a broad variety of stages. As part of the government's cultural promotion policy, a municipal or provincial orchestra was established in every major city and province, and each spring a symphonic festival is held at the Seoul Arts Center. More than 20 orchestras participate in this event, indicating the quantitative development in this area. However, an orchestra must be a truly professional enterprise which can provide its members with adequate compensation if it is to perform its true task. Korean symphonies must be transformed into professional symphonies and provided artistic backing, such as adequate performance facilities, if they are to present high-quality music to the audience. The most

urgent task at present is the cultivation of talented conductors. An orchestra's development depends on its conductor.

Opera The International Opera Company, founded by Yi In-son, opened the way for opera in Korea with its staging of La Traviata in January 1948, and following the Korean War, opera developed steadily, thanks in part to the National Opera. From 1962 to 1995, the National Opera staged more than 50 operas, nine composed by Korean composers. Independent commercial opera groups came on the scene in 1968 with the founding of the Kim Cha-kyung Opera Company, which became more active than the National Opera and therefore contributed more to the

development of opera in Korea. The Kim Cha-kyung Opera Company has staged 34 operas in the 27-year period between 1968 and 1995, seven of which were original productions. In addition, there are five or six private opera companies which are active in their operation. They had to use multipurpose halls for their performances until the completion of the Seoul Opera House at the Seoul Arts Center in 1993, a development that stimulated local opera troupes to produce truly professional works. Opera is, in fact, the most dramatic and emotional of all classical music genres, and it is now time for Koreans to stage genuine operas in Korea. In this respect, the opera presentation should be centered around the fully-equipped

opera houses, rather than sporadic performances by each troupe. Frankly speaking, until now, the only permanent member of a Korean opera company has been the director. The rest of the members-the singers, musicians, conductor and producer-have been brought together for single productions. It has therefore been difficult to present a well-rounded opera. With the opening of the Seoul Opera House at the Seoul Arts Center, it is hoped that the Opera House will adopt a repertory system.

Musicians on Local Stage While a number of performing artists, including Kim W on-bok and Yun Ki-son, were active immediately after liberation, it was not until the late

1950s and early 1960s that musicians studying abroad returned to Korea to invigorate the local music community. Musicians do not always perform , however. Most musicians who have studied overseas perform for only two or three years before giving up for lack of time and practice because of their teaching demands. The local music community does n ot yet have the environment and facilities to fully utilize its professional performers. Several musicians have been devoting themselves to performance, however. Pianists Shin Soo-joung and Lee Kyung-sook have made a considerable contribution to music performance at home. Lee's active pursuit of a performance career is especially noteworthy because she is also director of the Korean National Institute of Arts. Kim Nam-yun, Kim Min and Chung Chanwoo are the leading violinists on the local scene. As founder of the Seoul Baroque Ensemble, Kim Min has played a particularly important role in the development of the local chamber music community, which has also seen frequent performances by the pioneer Kumho String Quartet and varied performances by the Korean Festival Ensemble and the Yeum Club. Since the late 1980s, many talented young musicians have returned home after overseas studies and are now contributing to a significant improvement in the performance community. An adequate environment and facilities are needed for these young people to continue their performance careers. For instance, quality concert halls must be built around the nation , not just in Seoul, to encourage national tours by talented musicians.

Musicians on International Stages The first Korean musician to study abroad was the pianist Han Tong-il who left for the United States during the Korean War. The young prodigy's adventure caught the attention of the e n tire n ation and helped Koreans understand the importance of early 52

music training. Han had a successful performance ca reer in the United States for many years and now teaches at Boston University. He has, however, given up public performance except for special occasions. This shows how truly difficult the concert musician's life is and how stiff competition is on the international stage. A number of Korean mu sicians have been extremely successful, however, as shown by the Seoul concert commemorating the 50th anniversary of liberation from Japanese rule last August. The crowd thrilled to the music created by some of Korea's, and the world's, most talented performers.

Western music came to Korea more than 100 years ago, but th e nation could not full y absorb or develop it for decades because of the Japanese colonization of the country and the bitter Korean War that followed . Koreans have only had 40-some years, but look at the musicians the nation h as produced. One of th e world's finest violinists, Chung Kyung-wha was a student of the Juilliard School of Music's Ivan Galamian, along with ltzhak Perlman and Pinchas Zukerman, and actively performs on stages throughout the world. Her sister, cellist Chung Myung-wha, and brother, pianist-conductor Chung Myung-

whun, round out the Chung Trio, known for its chamber work. Chung Myung-whun also served as conductor of Paris' Bastille Opera for many years. No wonder Koreans were so proud when he returned to Seoul to conduct the 50th anniversa ry concert in August. Other Korean performers act ive overseas are violinists Kim Young-uck, Kang Dong-suk and Sarah Chang, who is still in her teens. Everyone recognizes Chang's genius, but I believe she will go even further to become one of the most important figures in the international music scene in the next century. Korean pianists have not been as

widely recognized as Korean violinists, but Paik Kun Woo, active on European stages, is applauded for his charming performances. Other pianists include Kim Hae-jung and Sub Hai-kyung, as well as Paik Haesun, who won an award at the Queen Efisabeth International Music Competition in Belgium. Paik has returned to Korea to teach at Seoul National University and therefore her performance career remains in question. But many people have high expectations for her career. Foremost among the Korean composers active abroad was, of course, Yun I-sang who died in November 1995 after spending many years in Germany.

It is truly unfortunate that he died without realizing his dream of returning to his native place in South Korea for political reasons. The North Koreans have established a Yun I-sang Music Institute, but that does not mean they understand his music or allow his works to be performed freely there. Thus, his life as a musician was lonely indeed. The skills of Korean vocalists were long thought to be limited, but in recent years, we have seen the emergence of some remarkable talents, especially three sopranos who have taken leading roles in major operas. Hong Hei-kyung is one of the lead singers of New York's Metropolitan Opera. Shin Young-oak made her debut at the Met singing the female lead of Rigoletto and is active on the American opera stage. Jo Sumi, praised by the late conductor Herbert von Karajan and applauded by music critics around the world, has centered her career in Europe. International expectations for these three sopranos run high, as do hopes for the younger Kim Young-mi who has scored big at a number of international comp etitions including the Pavorotti Competition. Baritone Hans Choi, winner of the In ternatio nal Tchaikovsky Competition in 1990, is also attracting a great deal of international attention. Bass Philip Kang, most active on German stages, has also joined the ranks of internationally recognized vocalists for his work at the Bayreuth Wagner Festival. International competitions ha ve drawn at tention to man y young Korean musicians ove r th e yea rs. When the young cellist Hanna Chang won the Rostropovich International Cello Concours in 1994, she brought international recognition to Korea's art and music as well as renewed expectations for the future of young Korean musicians. The last 50 yea rs have shown the potential of Korean musicians. Now, it seems, they are reaping th e awards and recognition th ey deserve. + 53

KOREAN ARTISTS ABROAD

PhilipKang A Korean Bass Succeeds on European Stage Kim Min Professor of Music, Seoul National University Director, Seoul Baroque Ensemble

ost music lovers already know that Kang Byung-woon, or Philip Kang as h e is better known to international audiences, has achieved the near impossible; he has made a name for himself as an accomplished bass in Europe's highly competitive operatic community. The average Korean may not have heard of him, however. We live in an age of information, but as I write about Kang, I realize how unbalanced tha t flow of information is. Cultural news often does not make it back to Korea, but Philip Kang is someone Koreans can all be proud of. In Europe, Kang is known for his powerful voice, unusually broad range and vocal flexibility. He made his international debut as the first Asian cast in a major role at the Bayre uth Wagner Festival, and from 1988 to 1992 he performed leading roles in Wagner's fouropera Ring Cycle under the direction of the celebrated Argentinean pianist and conductor Daniel Barenboim. Wagner's ope ras, often called the pride of German opera and a synthesis of all German musical drama, run for an average of four hours for each performance, demanding a great deal from both the performers and the audience. It is a rare feat for an Asian vocalist to be recognized as one of the world's great interpreters of Wagner sin ce Asians are generally smaller and thus may have less vocal breadth than their Western counterparts. Prior to Philip Kang's debut, many Asian singers had appeared in Wagner productions but

always in minor roles. Kang is actually quite a large man with generous features and a broad vocal range to match. In his years with the Bayreuth Wagner Festival, which was founded by the composer himself in 1876, Kang overcame many obstacles to build a solid artistic career w ith his . tenacity and strenuous self-cu~ivaton Some people succeed without much effort at all, and all too often, success forsakes those who work hard. One thing is certain, though: good fortune without effort lacks meaning and w ill never last long. C1 "' Philip Kang did not achieve success ~ easily. He has practiced tirelessly for the last 20 years, honing his skills until he PhilipKang finally earned the world's praise. I have known Kang nearly 25 years, since around the time he graduated fro m Seoul National University's College of Kang is known Music a nd was preparing to go to for his powerful voice, unusually Germany to study. Later I met him again in Berlin and have kept a close broad range and watch on his career ever since. He studvocal flexibility. ied for man y years w ith Professor Herbert Brauer of the National He made his international Academy of Music in Berlin and first debut as the first Asian cast in stepped onto the professional stage in 1976 when he was selected in an audia major role at the tion w ith the West Berlin Opera. Bayreuth Wagner Festival "Over the years, I've felt the disadvantages of being born in a small East Asian country," he once said, "but I've been able to overcome it to a certain extent through my own hard work." From 1978 through 1983, Kang performed as a house soloist w ith some of Germany's most respected opera com-

panies including the Wuppertal, Nuremberg and Mannheim Operas. He has also performed major roles in over 60 operas at opera houses throughout Europe, including those in Hamburg, Berlin, Munich, Lisbon, Nice, Zurich, Paris, Brussels, Vienna, Madrid, Rome and London. In the 1993-94 season, K~ng performed in the Royal Opera production of Mozart's The Magic Flute in London, the Nice Opera's rendition of Wagner's last opera, Parsifal, the Berlin National Opera's staging of Wagner's Tannhauser, and the Cologne Opera's productions of Verdi's Rigoletto and Mozart's The Magic Flute. Kang's talent is not limited to the opera. His professor, Dr. Brauer, also praises his outstanding ability to sing lieder and oratorio works. In addition to his success as a soloist at the Bayreuth Wagner Festival, Kang has been a guest performer at the Berkshire Music Festival in Tanglewood, Massachusetts, and a soloist with the Chicago Symphony and numerous opera companies in Paris, Rome and other European cities. He can now choose his roles, while he works for the development of opera in his home country. In 1995, he began teaching young Korean musicians at

his alma mater, Seoul National University. "I concentrated on my performing career overseas for years, then suddenly I realized more than twenty years had gone by," Kang says. "Performing is important, but so is educating a new generation of Korean musicians. I realize that now. I have the energy and ability now, so I've decided it is time for me to act on my beliefs." It is certain that Kang's musical experience and artistic talent will benefit the Korean music community. In that process, he must get closer tq the Korean audiences as well as the Korean musical community. Kang met his wife, soprano Han Min-hili, when the two were singing in the Oldenburg Opera's staging of Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin in 1978. They were married in 1980. For many years, they followed the same path, sometimes taking lead roles on the same stage as they once did with the Nuremberg Opera, but since 1988 Han has taken leave from her operatic work to devote herself to their four children. Star of the Bayreuth Wagner Festival, Kang is not only a fine artist, he is also a dedicated family man whose strong religious beliefs and kindness guide him in his everyday life. +

"Performing is important, but so is educating a new generation of Korean musicians. I realize that now. I have the energy and ability now, so I've decided it is time for me to

act on my beliefs."

Kang dressed as Hagen, one of the roles he played during his five years as a soloist at the Bayreuth Wagner Festival (clockwise from right); teaching a student; a German opera magazine which featured Kang; Kang playing Sarastro in a Paris production of Mozart's The Magic Flute; and photos of Kang in various operas 56

Olf: \NTERNA110NALE QPERNZEiiSCHRifl

anchuria, home to two million ethnic Koreans today, was for many years populated by descendants of the Jurchen tribe who ruled the Jin Dynasty in Northern China during the twelfth century. The region, generally called Northeast China, consists of three provinces-Liaoning, Jilin and Heilongjiang-with the ethnic Korean population concentrated around Yanji

M 58

in the Y<!Jnbyon (Yanbian) Korean Autonomous District. Large numbers of Koreans began settling in Manchuria in the 1860s, although many had settled in the region prior to that period. What brought the Koreans to Manchuria? The Qing Dynasty, established by the Manchu in Beijing in 1644, had closed a large area around Paektusan (Mt. Paektu, known as Changbaishan to the Chinese ) to culti-

vation and relocation because it was the sacred birthplace of the Qing founder, Taizu. In the 1860s, the Korean Peninsula was plagued by a string of bad harvests. The people of the no rthern provinces of Hamgyong-do and P'yongan-do were particularly hard hit, and in a desperate effort to escape poverty and starvation, they risked the wrath of the Chinese authorities to cross the

Ch'onji, crater lake at the summit of Paektusan

Yalu and Tumen rivers into Manchuria w here they began clearing land for cultivation. Thousands were caught and sent back to Korea, but many more remained to carve out lives for themselves on foreign soil. They were joined by a new wave of immigrants beginning in 1869 when the Korean Peninsula was hit by more natural disasters. Over a three-year period, some 60,000 people relocated

fr o m P'yong-an-do and 26,000 left Hamgyong-do for Manchuria. It was a hard life. The Koreans cultivated vast stre tch es of un cla im ed land, but because o nl y ethnic Chinese a nd Manchus w ere allowed to own land, ethnic Koreans were often reduced to little more than farmhands or tenant farmers. In the years that followed, however, a number of events fueled further

growth in the ethnic Korean population. In 1875, hoping to promote population growth in the face of Russian pressure from the north, Qing China rescinded its ban on relocation to the region. In 1905, Ja p a n forced the Korean court to sign a p rotectorate treaty giving full authority over Korean diplomacy to the Japanese government. Five years later Korea w as annexed by the Japanese. Thousands of Koreans 59

left their native land in protest or frustration , and many more followed around the time of the March 1 Independence Movement in 1919. The illegal immigration of the late nineteenth century was generally driven by the economic concerns of poor farmers, but twentieth century relocation to Manchuria was fueled by political motivations. Many Koreans chose exile in Manchuria over life under Japanese colonial rule. Records from 1907 indicate an ethnic Korean population of 71,000. This figure grew to 98,000 in 1909, 100,000 in 1910, the year Japan annexed Korea, 200,000 in 1916, and 307,000 in 1921.

Destination for Patriots The area around Paektusan was sacred to the Korean people as it was to the Manchurian tribes who overthrew the Ming Dynasty of Han China to establish the Qing Dynasty. Perhaps this was why so many ethnic Koreans gravitated to the region in times of national crisis. Toward the end of the Chos6n Dynasty, the Korean court offered its subjects provisional permission to cross the national border to the north. But when so many Koreans immigrated,

Kando (below) is home to many ethnic Koreans who live and farm (right) much like their ancestors did. A traditional Korean-style kitchen (above)and Korean children (top)

causing friction with the Chinese, a Korean magistrate in northern Hamgyong-do designated an area of the Tuman River basin along the border of Korea and Manchuria as Kando (Jiandao in Chinese), literally an "inbetween island," indicating a kind of free zope. When Korea lost its sovereignty to the Japanese, Manchuria became the destination for Korean patriots who staged armed attacks against the Japanese across the border. The region also became known for its many progressive educational institutions, founded to keep Korean culture and spirit of independence alive. Among these institutions was the S6j6n Lyceum in Rongjing, which was established by Korea's esteemed modern patriots

including Yi Tong-nyong and Yo Chun. This spirit of patriotism and independence remains strong among the ethnic Korean population in Y6nby6n. Since the establishment of diplomatic relations between the Republic of Korea and the People's Republic of China in 1992, each summer brings a flood of South Korean tourists to Shenyang; Yanji and Paektusan. There they find a community of third- and fourth-generation ethnic Koreans practicing customs long forgotten in Korea itself. Because North Korea is not opened to South Korean travelers, they must make the roundabout journey through Beijing and Shenyang, but when they set foot in Yanji, they are greeted in the Korean language, not Chinese. Ethnic Koreans,

fluent in an old-style Korean , are found working at every government office and market.

Paektusan From Yanji, the sacred mountain of Paektusan is a five-hour drive southwest, through forests of w hite birch. Ch'onji, a brilliant blue lake, sparkles in the volcanic crater at its summit. It is recorded that Paektusan has erupted three times since the sixteenth century-in 1597, 1688 and 1702-and its face is ever changing as the forces of nature chisel the many stone spires surrounding the lake. Tourists invariably take photographs against a background of Ch'onji and the rocky spires. Some spires resemble pagodas, others lions or tigers, still others falcons soaring into 61

the air. The lake measures 4.85 kilometers from north to south and 335 kilometers from east to west and has an average depth of 204 meters. It feeds the Yalu, Tumen and Songhua rivers. During the Japanese colonial period, Paektusan served as the base to hundreds of Korean resistance fighters. Qingshan-li (or Ch'ongsan-ri as it is pronounced in Korean), located 30 kilometers southwest of the Helong County seat, was the site of a dramatic battle in which resistance leader Hong Porn-do and his men ambushed a 3,000-strong Japanese unit, killing 2,000. The Japanese retaliated with what has come to be known as the "1920 Massacre," in which the nearby village of Baiyunping was wiped out.

Y onbyon as seen from the top of Paektusan (top);Changsaek Waterfall. a popular tourist site at the foot of the mountain (above);Ch'ongsan-ri, the site of a dramatic victory for Korean independence fighters (right); One PinePavilion(farright);and amonument in Pong-o- dong (far upper right)

Hong and Kim Chwa-jin, another anti-Japanese general, moved their forces to Yulang after the Qingshan-li battle on October 21. The Japanese learned of their whereabouts and began to encircle the village. However, the Korean Independence Army escaped under cover of darkness and on October 26 devastated the Japanese forces once more. Qingshan-li and Yulang are on the road to Paektusan and attract many Korean visitors during the tourist season. Fengwu-dung (Pong-o-dong in Korean), located in a ravine to the northeast of Tumen City's Fengwu Reservoir, was the site of another famous resistance victory. Fengwudung was originally called Ch'omo

Pavilion but its name was changed after a group of Korean immigrants, led by resistance fighter Ch'oe Tong-jin, relocated to the area and began cultivating the land. It became an important base of operations for the armed forces of the Kando Korean People's Assembly (Kan-da Kungminhoe(u). Following the Sant'unja battle of June 1920, Japanese border patrols crossed the Tumen River and marched on Fengwu-dung in hopes of crushing the Independence Army, but Ch'oe combined forces with Hong Porn-do, lured the Japanese into the ravine and wiped them out in a dramatic ambush. Fengwu-dung was located approximately 20 kilometers from the southern entrance of the ravine where the

Japanese entered. At the time several villages were scattered through the area, but today the ravine has been replaced by a reservoir which feeds the city of Tumen.

Korean History Lives On The city of Rongjing (Yongjong in Korean) is rich in Korean history and sensibilities. West of the city stands Piamsan (Mt. Piam), famous for its One Pine Pavilion, which figured prominently in The Pioneer, a popular Korean patriotic song during the Japanese colonial period. The pavilion was named for an old pine tree that once stood on the mountain. The original pavilion is gone now, but the city of Rongjing has constructed a new one

and planted pine trees in an effort to attract tourists to the area. In 1992, c: Koreans put up a stone tablet in honor of the spirit of The Pioneer, but the Chinese authorities removed it, leaving only the stone foundation. From the mountain's summit, vast rice fields planted by early Korean immigrants to the Haeran River valley are clearly visible. The influence of Korean immigrants is strong in this area. There are many historical sites, the most famous being the local well, Taesong Middle School, S6j6n Lyceum, Rongjing Bridge, the grave of Korean poet Yun Tong-ju and two symbols of Japanese oppression, the Japanese consulate and Kando Police Station. The well is important because the city was named for it: Rongjing means "Dragon Well." Rongjing Bridge is close to the Korean heart because it was mentioned in The Pioneer. Taesong Middle School is known for being a progressive Korean school in the 1920s. The grave of the Reverend Kim Yak-yon, an independence activist, is located in Changjae Village. Kim led a contingent of ten immigrant families from Chongsong in Hamgyongbuk-do Province to the town of Myongdong (Mingdung in Chinese) in 1899. They purchased land from Chinese in the area and began to cultivate it, soon transforming the area into a Korean enclave. Kim believed that the cultivation of human resources was crucial to Korean independence and so set up a school for Koreans. He took over the S6j6n Lyceum, which had been established in Rongjing in 1906 but forcibly closed by the Japanese authorities, and reopened- it under the name Myongdong School. In 1909, it was converted into a Christian school devoted to modern education. Myongdong is also famous for the monument dedicated to the Reverend Kim, the church he founded, and its many relics connected to the life of the poet Yun Tong-ju. Yun was born here in 1917. He grad uated from Myongdong Primary School at the age

of fourteen and entered Unjin Middle School, a Canadian missionary school establishment in Rongjing. In 1941, he graduated from Y6nhui College (predecessor of Yonsei University) in Seoul, and the following year he went to Japan where he enrolled in the English literature department at Rikkyo University. In July 1943, just before he planned to return to Korea, Yun was arrested for participating in a Korean independence movement and sentenced to two years in prison. He died in Fukuoka Prison on February 28, 1945.

Yun's grave is located in the East Hill Church cemetery near Unjin Middle School. The Y6nby6n Korean Autonomous District bears witness to the history of resistance to Japanese oppression and the Korean people's proud cultural heritage. One finds many traditional customs and festivals better preserved th e re th an in So uth Ko rea to d ay. While the ancestors of the region's ethnic Koreans left their homeland, they did not forget their roots. These ethnic Ko rea ns e pitomize the pride and

Yonbyon bears witness to the history of Korean resistance toJapanese oppression. There are many historical sites such as the Rongjing Bridge(above)and (opposite: from top) the Rongjing Monument, Myongdong Primary School. Taes6ng Middle School. and a photograph ofpoet Yun Tongju

resilience of all Koreans. No wonder so many tourists from So uth Korea make the long trek to Y6nby6n. If not for the division of Korea, they could take a train fro m Seo ul, passing thro ug h the No rth Ko rean cities of Kaesong and P'yongyang, or winding along the east coast through Hamhi:\ng and Ch'ongjin. That is still impossible, however, and the plane trip through Beijing makes Koreans yearn for unification all the more. +

DIS@OV

tÂˇ~

Paradise for Migratory Birds Yoon Moo-boo Professor of Biology Kyunghee University

h'orwon bears many scars of Korea's painful territorial division. Half of Ch'orwon, the largest plain in the province of Kangwon-do, lies in South Korea and half in North Korea. Nonetheless, for cranes, Ch'orwon is a paradise. Mountains surround the rich plain and its small hills. From late November, the beginning of winter, to mid-March, rare migratory birds of various species make their home here. Flying over the plains in groups as small as two or three and as large as several hundred, these

birds are the only creatures that can freely cross the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) that separates the two Koreas. Around the same time, the plains are also filled with amateur photographers and ornithologists who have come to see rare winter migratory birds such as Manchurian cranes, white-naped cranes, and members of the accipitridae family. The Manchurian crane, which is protected in Korea as a "natural monue~" is one of the migratory birds on the list of the world's endangered birds. The white-naped crane and the black vulture,

which have also been designated natural monuments, can be easily seen only around the DMZ. Along with these rare birds, small mountain birds such as the rustic bunting, the Chinese great gray shrike, the long-tailed rose finch, the ~alis' rosy finch, and the Japanese reed bunting stay from autumn to winter, making Ch'orwon the best place for birdwatching in Korea. Recently, birds of the anseriae family and mallards, which are usually found at the moutl1 of the Naktong River in Pusan and the Chunam Reservoir in Ch'angwon, 67

Kyongsangnam-do Province, are frequently spotted in Ch'orwon. About 2,000 of these birds spend winter within the DMZ and nearby farming areas in the wide Ch'6rwon plains. Paddies, dry fields, streamside shrubs, reed fields and eulalia fields are good homes for these small winter visitors. Shrubs and reed fields are especially attractive to the birds because they provide cover against their natural enemies such as harriers, eagles, weasels and wild cats, and because they are full of edible dragon flies. But above all, the fields are a good place to spend winter because they are not frequented by humans.

Manchurian Crane Korea's Demilitarized Zone has one of the world's best preserved natural habitats. Its abundant food supply makes it

Korea's Demilitarized Zone has one of the world's best preserved natural habitats. Its abundant food supply makes it an ideal habitat for birds and other creatures.

Manchurian cranes flying southward across the Korean Demilitarized Zone (left and right). Every winter 8(}-100 of the endangered birds flock to the area along the truce line.

an ideal habitat for birds and other creatures. Through year-round studies, ornithologists have found more than 150 kinds of birds-winter visitors, passing migrants, summer visitors and residents-along the 155-mile truce line that stretches across the Korean Peninsula from Paengnyongdo Island off the west coast to the east coast, in the Kimp'o, Munsan, Ch'6rwon and Yanggu areas. Geese and ducks are the most frequent visitors followed by birds of the falconidae, muscicapidae, fringillidae, motacillidae and ardeidae families. The most famous is the endangered Manchurian crane, a bird that is considered the most elegant member of the crane family and ornithologists around the world are eager to see. A large number of cranes flock to the area along the

truce line during winter. Every year about 80 to 100 come from the north, from Lake Ozero Khanka in Siberia and the Amur River area in China. The Manchurian cranes spend winter around the restricted farming areas near the DMZ in Ch'orwon. They can be found in paddies around the abandoned Ch'orwon Railroad Station, Wolchong-ri, Sapsuri and Kangsan Reservoir. The cranes spend their winter days in groups, eating fallen rice ears and drinking water. Cranes ca n survive winter in the Ch'orwon plains, one of the coldest places in South Korea, because they do not lay eggs during the season. With no 70

extra mouths to feed they require less nutrient-rich food. There are more white-naped cranes than Manchurian cranes in the area. Each year, about 200 white-naped cranes visit Ch'ot'won and spend winter looking for rice ears in groups together with Manchurian cranes. The black vulture, known as the bird of victory, has also been spotted in Ch'orwon since two or three years ago. Groups of ten or more can be seen in the fields around and within the DMZ feeding on dead animals such as roe deer and rabbits. Imperial eagles of the accipitridae family and rare rough-legged

buzzards, common buzzards and northern shrikes are among the other visitors. It is interesting to see white-fronted geese and mallards, which are more commonly found at the mouth of the Naktong River or the Chunam Reservoir, spend winter around the Kangsan Reservoir in Ch'orwon. About 20 black vultures, one of the world's biggest birds, have been spotted only in the P'anmunjom area along the truce line. For birds, humans mean land development, pollution and other hazards. Not only endangered birds, but also commonly found residen ts and migrato ry birds go elsewhere

Cran es f eeding on rice stalks within the D MZ

because humans deprive them of nesting places and food.

Protecting Endangered Birds Last winter, a white-naped crane at Yong-in Farmland laid two eggs. The eggs were artificially incubated and the two cranes that hatched were carefully protected. After they matured, they were tran sferre d b y tr uck to th e Kangch'on Reservoir near Ch'orwon and set free among the hundreds of w ild white-nap ed cranes liv ing the re. However, they did not mingle with the other cranes. They followed people and vehicles around and one of them was

hit by a truck and killed. The other crane was caught and taken back to Yong-in to live in protective captivity. Because the two w hite-naped cranes grew up knowing only the zoo environment, they did not know how to live in the wild. They did not know how to find rice ears in the field because for them, food was something that came from humans. The artificial protection of endangered birds such as Manchurian cranes, whitenaped cranes and black vultures does not always lead to an increase in their population or the number that return to a particular site the next year. To achieve

these goals, an untouched, unpolluted natural environment is needed. But these days, the habitat of these endangered wild birds is being threatened by development. More and more land in Ch'6rwon is being developed for farming or for new roads and buildings in preparation for the reunification of Korea. If, along w ith the preservation of the natural environment, efforts are made to provide these w inter visitors with enough feed to last through their w inter, Ch'6rwon could certainly continue to be a paradise for Korea's feathered treasures. + 71

a-m'tr '95 KWANGJU BIENNALE

2} ::::<. l::lllYit Ll· ;<II o I ._ 2 -r

ANGU

Sung Woo-je Columnist, Sisa journal

wangju is as ardent as ever. As the site of the pro-democracy movement of 1980, the city earned itself a reputation as a "mecca of democracy" for helping to lead the nation out of one of its darkest hours and as the "helmsman" that steered the nation through the turbulent "sea of democracy." Today Kwangju is at the forefront again, gripped by a new set of red-hot issues.

One of them is the storm of prote&t-i -_complete without considering the six that has foll'owed the Prosecutor- < special exhibitions as well, making the General Office's decision not to indict , · · Kwangju Biennale the largest and most the perpetrators responsible for the significant of all art events in the country's history. In addition, the Kwangju violent suppression of the 1980 moveCulture and Arts Hall and the Outdoor ment. The other is the fact that Korea's largest ever cultural event is hosted by Performance Plaza in Chungwoe Park the city this year. are the sites of daily performances by Ninety-one artists from 50 nations various local and international folk arts and dance troupes-elevating the are represented in the main exhibttion of international contemporary art Biennale from a mere exhibition of the visual arts to a truly comprehensive alone; but those numbers are hardly

BIENNALE festival of virtually all art forms. The 12,000 or so members of performance groups from 30 nations offer visitors to the Biennale a dazzling feast of culture in the form of folk music and dance from all corners of the world. Apart from this, the "International Art to Wear" fashion festival and nemerous other sponsored and commemorative exhibitions are being held in conjunction with the Biennale throughout its duration, from

September 20 to November 20. Kwangju can rightfully boast of being the "city of art" as it has traditionally been known. The theme of the Biennale, "Beyond the Borders," expresses the Organizing Committee's hope that "divisions in the name of ideology, nationality, religion, race and culture can be transcended by the arts so that humankind may see themselves as citizens of the world." It is significant that the Kwangju

Biennale is the first of its kind and scale in the Asia-Pacific region; the theme being especially meaningful when one considers that it is held in Korea and in Kwangju of all places. A divided nation, Korea is further racked by regional conflicts and rivalries. The theme suggests a new resolve to bridge these differences. The Korean artists represented in the main International Contemporary Art Exhibition have tried for the most

part to acknowledge the conflicts and tensions that exist in Korean society and offer their visions of reconciliation and peace in their works. This is particularly evident in the new direction of those artists who were active in the minjung (people's) art movement of the 1980s. Hong Sung-dam, an activist who used his art as f1 weapon to protest the military dictatorship of the early 1980s, has taken 50 prints from his earlier May series and re-worked them into a video, offering visitors a revisionist view through a new medium. A special prize was awarded to Kim Jung-heun's painting Disney's Snackshops at P'anmunjom, an allegory about Korea 50 years after division. Lim Ok-sang's What Is the Role of Korean Intellectuals in the 1990s? gives form to a rhetorical question.

Differentiation Strategy

As a biennial of the "developing" world, the Kwangju Biennale is noteworthy for its conscious effort to distinguish itself from the biennials of the "developed" world. This is already reflected in the international diversity of its list of p a rticipating artists. Although the Havana Biennale and the Sao Paulo Biennale are also biennials in Third World cities, their focus is regional, namely Latin American. But artists from every continent are represented at the Kwangju Biennale, which distinguishes it from other developing world biennials. In short, the Kwangju Biennale has the range and ambition of a First World biennial, except that it is being held in a Third World city. Âˇ When compared with such longstanding biennials as the Venice

Biennale which celebrated its centennial this year, the Kwangju Biennale's differentiation strategy is highlighted by two key points. First was the decision to do away with the national pavilions that characterize First World biennials like Venice and to allow artists from Third World nations the rare opportunity to exhibit their works alongside First World artists on an equal footing. Thus, artists from Eastern Europe, the Middle East, Africa, Southeast Asia, Latin America and other Third World regions would exhibit with those of the First World in terms of talent and merit, and not national strength. Another point of differentiation is that the Commissioners selected a relatively youthful group of exhibitors, mostly in their thirties and forties. For younger artists the Kwangju Biennale

served to fill the void created by the absence of the "Aperto" exhibition for promising talent from this year's Venice Biennale. Though the average age of artists participating in the main exhibition is 37, the Biennale is not just a showcase for lesser-known talent. Such established, world-renowned masters as George Lappas (Greece), Chuck Close (U.S.A.), Jeff Wall (Canada), Fang Li-jun (China), Zofia Kulik (Poland) and others are also amply represented at Kwangju. The prevailing slump in the art market makes it an increasingly difficult proposition to hold international art festivals on the same scale as in the past. Economics dictates that the selection of artists and prizewinners be limited to an A-list of premium names.

The Kwangju Biennale marks a determined break from this worldwide phenomenon by focusing instead on freshness. Works by artists from Third World nations strongly reflect their region's artistic characteristics. While the African artists expressed their region's past and present and tensions between the individual and society through narrative forms, those of Oceania pointed toward a new culture which transcended the gap between European and native cultures. If works by Asian artists appeared to have risen above the fundamental contrast between Western and traditional Eastern civilizations, then those of Eastern Europeans upended traditional academicism or mocked dehumanizing political forces and movements. Latin American artists drew from their region's rich body of "'':f! imagination and magic realism tradia.~ tions to comment on civilization, polier tics, philosophy, sex and the body, and mythology.

trend, it is also partly due to the competitive nature of biennials. Installation pieces are most effective in capturing the interest of viewers who must absorb a vast number of works within a short span of time. Limited to a rectangular space, artists opt for installation art over painting for its power to attract attention, to forcefully convey its message, and to leave a bold imprint on the viewer's mind. The grand prize-winning piece, Alexis Leyva Kcho's Para Olvidar (To Forget) represents an extreme of installation art. Kcho left his native Cuba and made his way to Korea with only a basic conception of his project in his mind. And yet, Para Olvidar, comprising an old wooden boat from Tamyang Lake near Kwangju and beer bottles, evokes both the image and the

J ~

Forum for Young Artists

The Kwangju Biennale is attracting attention as a forum for young artists who tend toward the adventurous and the experimental, especially due to the fact that most of the works featured are installation pieces. Only 10 percent of the works on exhibit are twodimensional, reflecting contemporary art's decisive shift toward installation art with its unlimited range of expression. Thus, the works on vie w at Kwangju are less exercises in exquisite aesthetics than powerful, concrete commentaries about politics and society. Taking the theme "Beyond the Borders" to mean explorations of the political or social reality of contemporary life, most of the artists preferred installation art for its unmatched ability to concretely convey a wide variety of themes from an equally vast pool of materials as a new means of dialogue. Although the pred o min ance o f installatio n pieces at the Kw angju Biennale is a reflection of a worldwide

The site of the highly popular special exhibition InfoArt directed by video artistPaikNam-june(top)andpartof the exhibition (above); Alexis Leyva Kcho and his grand prize-winning work Para Olvidar (To Forget) (left); and works by George Lappas of Greece, Jeff wan of Canada and Woo]ae-gilofKorea(opposite: top to bottom) 75

plight of "those who have left Cuba and those who have stayed behind." Apart from the main exhibition, the special exhibition attracting the largest attendance is "InfoART." Directed by the world-famous, Korean-born video artist Paik Nam-june, "InfoART" is a display of the world's cutting edge in techno-art. Top names in the fields of interactive art, multimeclia, virtual reality and the Internet who have taken advanced technologies into new artistic directions are represented here by their latest works. One such artist is American Scott Fisher, formerly of NASA, who is a foremost name in virtual reality. Other special exhibitions include "Eastern Spirit and Literati Ink Painting," "Originality of Korean Modern Art" and "Korean Contemporary Art Today," which together offer a comprehensive

overview of Korean art of the past and present. Two other major exhibitions are "Art as Witness," which examines the activist role of art since 1900 in relation to the historical upheavals of the twentieth century, and on a more local level, "Kwangju-The Spirit of May," which explores the social and political implications of the May 18 resistance movement of 1980. Yet another exhibition is taking place at Mangwol-dong cemetery, the resting ground for the victims of the May 18 prodemocracy uprising, at the same time as the Biennale. Sponsored by the Kwangju Artists' Community, the "Unification Art Festival" is not actually part of the Biennale, but it too is another reason why Kwangju is not simply the "city of resistance" but a "city of art." In fact, with the successful staging of an international biennale,

The main exhibition hall of the Kwangju Biennale 76

Korea's "hometown of the arts" is on its way to becoming a world-class center for the arts. The Kwangju Biennale is also significant as the first major event staged outside of Seoul since the local autonomy system was restored after 30 years. By demonstrating that it can sponsor an international cultural event, Kwangju has done much to redress the lopsided concentration of politics, business and of course cultural advantages in Seoul. This is not to say that the Kwangju Biennale has not suffered from having had only ten months to prepare and from a lack of administrative experience, but as the first such ambitious undertaking the Biennale's launch has been regarded as a success. That it has attracted over one million viewers in only a month since its opening is proof enough. â&#x20AC;˘

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Contemporary Korean Films Chang Suk-yong Film Critic

he past few years have seen an increasing number of Koreans going to Korean movies. The growth in moviegoers is indeed welcome news because it suggests that the quality of Korean films has improved. The production of films of diverse genres and by professionally trained directors are among the factors that have encouraged people to leave the comfort of their living rooms for a movie theater. But now these audiences have come to expect better quality movies. Last year, 1994, saw the emergence of several energetic young directors and lackluster performances by veterans in general. Lighthearted features filled more theaters than those with weighty themes, and light comedies aimed at the so-<:alled X-Generation remained popular. However, most awards went to films of higher quality and of an experimental nature. Aware that production of high quality films is the key to survival in these times of rapid market opening and the growth of satellite cable television networks, the Korean film industry looked for fresh ideas as directors explored romance, comedy, politics, ideology, science fiction, and many other subjects. The number of independent production companies also increased. According to the Korea Public Performance Ethics Committee, 65 feature films including two animated features were made in Korea in 1994. Of these, 36 passed the committee's screening intact and 29 passed after revision. The gradual decrease in local film production is a reflection of the increas-

ing dominance of foreign films in Korea. The fact that 382 foreign films including three animated features were submitted for review is indicative of the declining status of Korean movies. Some of the notable Korean films of 1994 were I Wish for What Is Forbidden to Me (Nanun somanghanda nege kumftdoen g6s61), A Casual Trip (Uy6nhan y6haeng), Two Cops (T'ukapsu), Hwimori, The Story of Two Women (Tu y6jl iyagi), Absolute Love (Ch6ltae sarang), Two Flags (Manmubang), The Man of 49 Days (49 ilui namjl), Evaporation (Chilng-bal), Out to the World (Sesang pakkuro), The Life and Death of the Hollywood Kid (H6liudukiduui saeng-ae), The Fox with Nine Tails (Kumiho), Rosy Life (Changmibit insaeng), The Rules of the Game (Keimui p6pchik), The Taebaek Mountains (T'aebaeksanmaek), To You from Me (N6ege nanil ponaenda), The Blue Seagull (Pullushig61), The Pirate (Haej6k), How to Tame Your Wife (Manura chugigi), Young Man (Ch6lmun namjl), and Deep Scratch (56nt'op). Since 96 feature films were produced in Korea in 1992 and 64 including one animated film in 1993, the number of films produced in 1994 was about the same as the year before. However, according to box office numbers for 1994, more people went to see foreign movies than Korean movies. To survive the strong challenge from foreign films, Korean filmmakers focused on controversial or commercial themes, a strategy that proved successful to a certain degree. Among the various trends noticeable in the film industry in recent years was the targeting of audiences in their thirties

and forties. In addition, the distinction between genres became clearer, themes more diverse and audiences bigger. The films were more adventurous and tried to break away from existing conventions, be more direct in the portrayal of sex and violence, directors' views on ideological issues were more evident and they used Hollywood-style techniques. Nudity was more prominent compared to the past, and directors were not afraid to brand their films as being "commercial'' Young directors directly addressed social issues, dealt with past events from a contemporary perspective, and tried to break new aesthetic ground The scope of characters also expanded to include jail breakers, labor activists, guerrillas, leaders in popular movements, and apostate monks. Filmmakers spent more money on film promotion; video rights became a basic consideration when calculating production costs. It was interesting to see gangsters receiving favorable treatment on the screen, films spawning new fashions, and promoters employing more calculated marketing techniques. The up-and-coming directors also seemed interested in making films with a target audience in mind But their basic strategy was not very different from established directors. They were only different in the form, aesthetics and language they chose for their films. Moreover, the distinctions between jobs within the industry were blurred in 1994. For example, directors took up acting, cameramen directed feature films, film critics wrote scripts, actors directed, and poets wrote critiques. In 1994, films depicting the Korean 77

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psyche were received more favorably overseas than at home. There was a need for government support for these superb films, which were virtually ignored by Korean filmgoers. Many big businesses invested in the movie industry, but since they were more interested in video products, the result was dubious. Korean moviegoers' interest in Korean films can be easily discerned through the box off-ice records of 1994 and the first half of 1995. It should be noted, however, that because the data is provided by the Federation of Theater Owners and by production companies, their accuracy is somewhat questionable. Ranking No. 1 at the box office in 1994 was Two Cops with an audience of 860,000. It was followed by To You From Me, Out to the World, The Taebaek Mountains, Blue Seagull, The Fox with Nine Tails, To the Starry Island (Ku some kagoshipda), The Rules of the Game, and Rosy Life. Dr. Pong (Takt'a pong)

was tops at the box office for the first half of 1995 with an audience of 382,000 followed by Terrorist (T'er6tistlt'LI), Rose of Sharon Has Blossomed (Mugunghwa kkotchi p'i6ttsLimnida), Young Man (Ch6lmun namja), Mom has a Boyfriend (Ommaege aeini saeng-gyotta), Poor Men (Namjamln kwoerowo), Sun Sets into Neon (Neonsokuro_noulchida), Eternal Empire (Y6ngwonhan cheguk), 301, 302, and Ktlmhong-a, KLimhong-a. A comparison

of the numbers for 1994 and 1995 show that so far this year more Koreans have been going to Korean movies. It is notable that Dr. Pong, Terrorist and Young Man have succeeded in attracting audiences. Although they are not art films, their success has given hope to the industry because today's moviegoers are considered to be the potential audience for art films of the future. Also noticeable was the release of In a Low Voice (Najun moksori) by female 78

director Py6n Y6ng-ju, which was the first documentary to be shown in a commercial theater. The film directly addresses the still painful issue of the socalled comfort women, who were forced to serve as sex slaves for Japanese soldiers during Warid War II. Meanwhile, director Chung ]in-woo's Rose of Sharon Has Blossomed was a disappointment due to its one-sided perspective, contrary to the prerelease promotion which had touted the film as being "in the forefront of modern techniques!' Although a typical love triangle story involving two sisters and a man, Cho Kum-hwan's A Winter with a Piano (P'ianoga ittnun ky61) will be remembered for its freshness amidst the usual comedies and action adventures. Kim Y6ng-bin's There Is No Exit (Pisanggunun opda), which was finally released despite financial difficulties, provided a lot of eye-catching, amusing scenes along with a warning about the X-Generation's behavior in Apkuj6ngdong, an area frequented by young people. Dr. Pong is a romantic comedy about a playboy doctor. It was encouraging to see that Terrorist, an old-fashioned action film about two close brothers, held its own at the box office. Young Man, another movie depicting the X-Generation, was insightful and sophisticated. 301, 302 details the lives of two women, one suffering from anorexia nervosa and the other from bulimia. Politics is the subject of Eternal Empire by Pak Chong-won, a director who is one of the brightest stars in the Korean film industry. This year marks the 75th year of Korean movies, the 50th anniversary of the nation's liberation from Japanese colonial rule and the 30th year of the Korea Film Critics Association. The occasion has prompted serious discussions on the Korean film history, and its future and relevant statistics. For instance, there is a lack of accurate records on review dates and release

dates as well as the number of completed films. Many people even question the credibility of the publicized box office numbers. According to one survey of teenagers conducted in 1995, 32.8 percent said they had not seen a movie in a year. Of those who saw movies, 73.6 percent said they enjoyed American movies most, 18.4 percent favored Hong Kong and Chinese movies, 4.9 percent Korean, 3.1 percent chose European films and 0.4 percent other Asian works. Fifty percent of those surveyed said they preferred action adventures, 20 percent romance, and 14 percent mysteries. Ye~ while the Korean film industry may be suffering, it is still very much alive. Dog Day Afternoon (Kaegat'Un nalui ohu) directed by Yi Min-yong has already attracted more than 300,000 moviegoers and Who Drives Me Crazy? (Nuga nanll mich'ige hamln-ga) is also receiving a favorable response. A Man Wagging His Tail (Kkorich'inun namja)

directed by H6 Tong-u entices viewers with its freshness. Go Alone Like a Rhinos Horn (Musoui ppulch'6-r6m honjas6 kara) directed by 0 Py6ng-ch'6L Old Husband (Acchi abba) directed by Shin Sung-

su and Gunman (Chbngppi) directed by Kim Oi-s6k are all movies with their own unique qualities. More and more filmmakers are trying to divine popular tastes, producing commercial films instead of art films. The up-and-coming directors are certain to imbue the Korean film industry with new, vibrant energy. Âˇ Sea Flower (Malmijal), an art film directed by Yu Hy6n-mok, at 70 still Korea's most preeminent director, was regrettably neglected in favor of more commercial films. But at the same time, Yi Py6ng-ju's Marine Apocalypse (Haeby6ng Mukshirok), a depiction of life in the marines, and Red Hawk (Pulktln mae), an animated feature, prove that Korean films are alive and well. A real eye-opener this past spring

CURRENTS

was the 53-minute documentary by Chang S6n-u, A Film on the Road: "The Cleansing of Korean Films" (Kilwitli y6nghwa, "Han-guk y6nghwa sshitkkim ''), which was invited to be shown

at the Cannes Film Festival It includes stories related to the Tonghak Revolution, teenagers, nigh~ the descent of an angel, double features, hometown, national division and reunification. Chang made the movie as part of an international project in which 17 worldrenowned directors were each asked to make a movie in commemoration of the film industry's 60th anniversary. It speaks well for Korean film's remarkable growth and the economic potential of the Korean film market It is thus regrettable to see that while moviemakers are exerting all-out efforts on their sets, the members of various "film promotion" committees are only thinking of their own self-interests. They are justifiably criticized for failing to come together to find a way to guarantee the success of Korean movies. On the basis of produqion costs, the Korean film industry is among the ten biggest in the world. As such, film-related courses need to be included in school curriculums and an adequate number of competent film teachers should be secured Movies could be a more reliable source for earning foreign exchange than car exports, which is all the more reason to provide education on movies and movie-making. About 20 conglomerates have jumped into the movie industry. Their capital, along with the government's expansion of film-related infrastructure and the retraining of movie-makers, should be used to help solve the urgent equipment and financial problems of Korea's film industry. This is one viable way to improve the quality of films. Forty years have passed since a film department was first established in a college in Korea, but government support and interest has been lacking. Only

Scenes from some of the most notable Korean films of 1994 and 1995 (from top left): The Taebaek Mountains, Two Cops, Dog Day

Afternoon, Dr. Pong andKiimhong-a, Kiimhong-a

now is the value of investment in film education being recognized. The Motion Picture Law needs to be revised to promote more active investment by the gove rnm e n~ to guarantee the basic welfare of movie-makers, and to spur investment in infrastructure and equipment Profits from films should be

reinvested in the industry. The commercial success that some movies have enjoyed is welcome. But Korean audiences still look forward to a day when the environment is such that filmmakers will be able to produce films that can match the quality of foreign movies. + 79

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DRUMS OF PEACE: KBS Orchestra Plays at the U.N. Lee Sang-man Music Critic

n this year which celebrates the 50th anniversary of both Korea's liberation and the establishment of the United Nations, the KBS Sym.phony Orchestra became the first Korean orchestra and only the second Asian orchestra to perform at the UN. Headquarters in New York in a gala concert on November 5 under the baton of conductor Chung Myung-whun. With the year also marking the 50th anniversary of the birth of a symphony orchestra in Korea, the KBS Orchestra offered a message of peace before an audience of some 2,000 diplomats

and staff members of the world organization. South Korea owes much to the United Nations. The Republic of Korea was established in 1948 under the auspices of the United Nations and when the Korean War broke out two years later, allied forces under the U.N. flag fought against communist troops. Korea's postwar economy subsisted on aid from U.N. member nations. Now Korea has grown to become an aid-giving nation capable of staging a concert for world peace. The creation of Korea's first sym-

phony orchestra in 1945, the Koryo Symphony Orchestra, was nothing short of a miracle considering the circumstances at the time. In the 50 years between the end of the nineteenth century and liberation in 1945, Korea had opened the door to Western music. After rigorous training Korea's first orchestra was born. The Koryo Symphony Orchestra became the breeding ground for the flowering of Korean music and arts. But many of the musicians were lost during the Korean War and many of the concert venues reduced to rubble. Times were hard but

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even so, the Korean people never gave up their love of singing and they tried to soothe their pain by immersing themselves in music. Emerging through the turbulence and ravages of war, many musicians who had fought on the frontlines rallied together to form the KBS (Korean Broadcasting System) Orchestra in 1956. It has survived many ruptures over the years and today stands as the oldest Symphony orchestra in Korea. Many of the performers born after 1945 have received their training overseas and have become world-class performers. As far as international recognition and standing go, Korean performers are now on a par with those from Israel On Liberation Day, August 15, prominent Korean performers from around the world gathered for a celebratory concert from which grew the idea for the concert at the United Na-

Kim Duck-su's SamulNori percussion group joined the KBS Symphony Orchestra for a rousing finale to the concert at the UN Headquarters. The concert, a harmonizing of music of the East and the

Wes~

could be said to be symbolic of the concert venue.

tions. Most of the members of the KBS Orchestra and all of the soloists who performed on that day were born after liberation in 1945. The orchestra under the baton of Chung Myung-whun was a little rough around the edges but their performance was full of energy and spirit. Of all the non-Western countries, Korea and Japan are said to be the countries where the essence of classical Western music is most faithfully preserved and developed. In fact, these days the Western classical music heritage is probably being kept best in the East. The U.N. concert began with Beethoven's triple concerto for piano, violin and cello played by conductorcum-pianist Chung Myung-whun, his sister, cellist Chung Myung-wha, and violinist Kim Young-uck. The audience was spellbound and the applause was vigorous. Kim, who took the place of

CURRENTS

Chung Kyung-wha, the third member of the Chung Trio, added depth and liveliness to the music. Showing off the beauty of the Korean singing voice, Jo Sumi sang an opera aria, and through Tchaikovsky's overture for Romeo and Juliet, Chung Myung-whun displayed his wide knowledge and understanding of music. The last piece on the evening's program was Kim Duck-su's SamulNori percussion group which joined with the orchestra in rousing the excitement of the audience. It was a new creative experience, the traditional percussion

music of Korea harmonizing with the classical music of the West. In a sense, this performance could be said to be symbolic of the meaning of the concert venue, the UN. General Assembly Hall. In all, the skill of the conductor and the performers was of world-class standard, clearly show_ing the talents of Korean musicians to the world. If there was anything to regret, it was that despite the leadership of Chung Myungwhun, the orchestra did not display better unity. Nevertheless, the emotive power of the orchestra's performance may have surpassed that of Japan's

NHK Symphony which had played on the same stage ten years ago. As individuals, Koreans are at the top of their fields but together they still lack harmony. This is a reflection of the political and social state of Korea and it is only natural that this influence be reflected in the arts and music as well. In the twenty-first century, world leadership will be based on creative power. The people who show the ability to raise and nurture a top-class orchestra will be the world leaders 50 years from now. +

BOOK REVIEW

Suzanne Crowder Han

Sueeinct Guide to Things Korean Hollym International Corp, 1995, 248 pages, 12,000 won (US$16.95)

As a translator, most of my work involves Korean culture-often for magazines like Koreana or literar,y translations-and I am always looking for succinct explanations of traditional folk practices and customs, explanations that a non-Korean can actually understand. I have spent many hours searching for the answers in Korean books, but with Suzanne Crowder Han's compilation of Notes on Things Korean, life has become a lot easier. There has long been a need for a comprehensive English handbook on Korean culture. Nonspecialists interested in Korea for business or personal reasons will find Notes on Things Korean as helpful as do translators and editors. Han has provided a wellwritten volume of some 150 entries, ranging from philosophy to kiteflying. The book is organized in ten chapters-Beliefs and Customs, Lifestyle, Special Days, Arts and Crafts, 82

Music and Dance, Language and Letters, Historic Figures, Famous Places and Monuments, Games and Sports, and a catchall Miscellaneous-and begins with a brief intoduction and chronology.

It also features an extensive glossary for quick answers but merits a thorough reading for Han provides the most succinct and informative English explanations of "things Korean" that I have ever read. She is at her best discussing lifestyle and customs, no doubt because of her personal experience in these areas. Her explanations of changsung spirit posts, kosa rites to household gods, traditional family relations, and hwat'u flower cards, to name just a few topics, are without a doubt the best I have seen. She also offers invaluable explanations of numerous musical instruments, music and dance genres and traditional games and sports. Han has clearly kept her eyes open in the nearly two decades she has lived in Korea. The Korean people and lovers of things Korean owe her a great deal. (Julie Pickering)

The most remarkable feature of Yi Mun-yol's literary career i s the rich variety of themes and modes found in his works. He has produced masterpieces in all fictional forms: the short story, novella and novel.

Yi Mun-yol A Writer of Weighty Themes and Lofty Expressions Yujong-ho Professor of English Literature Ewha Womans University

efining a writer's character is always a difficult job; the better the writer, the more difficult the task. In the case of a writer like Yi Mun-yol who was recognized as a master almost as soon as he made his debut, the task is nearly impossible. Since starting his career in the late 1970s, Yi has produced works with an explosive energy, adding vigor and depth to Korean literature. The most remarkable feature of Yi's literary career is the rich variety of themes and modes found in his works. He has produced masterpieces in all fictional forms: the short story, novella and novel. Many of Yi's short stories, such as "Pylon's Swine" and "An Isle of Anonymity," rank among the best in the short sto r y genre, which was the favorite medium of Korean fiction writers up to the mid-1980s. Yi can also be credited with popularizing the novella in Korea. His trilogy Youth, of which "That Winter of My Youth" is a part, is a milestone in the history of the novella in Korea. "Song of the Barracks," "Our Distorted Hero," and "The Bird with Golden Wings" are powerful novellas each of which mark a new direction in Korean literature. Yi's novels, in which his vigorous imagination has ample room to unfold, are even more impressive and varied. Son of Man is an exploration into the possibility of human spiritual transcendence. Hail to the Emperor is a compassionate satire on imperial delusions, embellished with the author's rich store of classical Chinese lore and modern social psychology; The Age of Heroes

deals with the violent ideological conflict between the conservatives and communists, culminating in the Korean War and its aftermath; and Border Country sketches the bewilderment and inner conflicts of a whole generation caught up in a dizzying whirlwind of social change. Yi is also one of the pioneers in the intermediate genre of the short story sequence, a collection of independent short stories cohering around a unifying theme. You Can 't Go Home Again is an outstanding example. Yi also tried his hand at historical romance with The Poet, which takes the form of a critical biography of the nineteenth century vagabond poet Kim Py6ng-y6n. Although Yi is only in his late forties and has many productive years ahead of him, his place as one of the most important Korean writers of the late twentieth century is already assured. Yi made his debut with "On the Frontline," a realistic novella. It is a tightly constructed work that vividly analyzes the mechanisms of a society operating on the logic of power. "Pylon's Swine," one of his earlier short stories, is an interesting study of people's reactions to 'the threat of brute force. Having gained the trust of his readers through solidly realistic works, Yi's next work, Son of Man, which was first published in novella form and later expanded into a full-length novel, is a metaphysical reverie couched in the form of a detective story. One of the few Korean works that seriously deals with the problems of the ultimate mystery of being and the reason for human exis-

tence, the book had a great impact on its readers when it first came out, especially among university students. The work's appeal proved to be enduring, despite its considerable structural flaws and problems with the narrative point of view.

Romantic Nihilism Youth, a trilogy of novellas. dealing with youthful uncertainties about the reason for being and self-identity, is a modified version of the Bildungsroman. "That Winter of My Youth," the most popular and frequently discussed of the three stories making up the trilogy, is in the form of recollections by the firstperson narrator of what happened to him one winter in his early youth. The narrator quits college and leaves Seoul to roam the country, working briefly as a miner, seeking a job as a fisherman and then trying his hand at being a houseboy in an inn until he decides to return to the city. Hints about what drove him to take such an extreme course of action are scattered through the two earlier stories, but the exact and immediate cause is not important. What is important is that the romanticism that prompts his wandering is an angry and rebellious protest against the banality and meaninglessness of everyday life. In the climax of the story the narrator abandons himself to the fury of the elements, wading through kneedeep snow for a whole day and nearly freezing to death in an unheated village hall on a bitterly cold night. The "to be or not to be" question is resolved when he encounters a former

prisoner of conscience who gives up his long-planned revenge on an ex-comrade turned informer when the opportunity finally presents itself. The conclusion reached by the author-narrator, "Despair is the purest and the most intense passion, and the starting point of redemption," is convincing because it is a poetic assertion made in the context of the romanticism of youth. This story of the loneliness and uncertainties of youth and the urgent quest for selfidentity, heavily flavored with romantic nihilism, has become the initiation story for all Korean youths. You Can 't Go Home Again also reflects Yi's romanticism. The author says in one of the stories, "We were the last generation that had a home in the true sense, but the home disappeared before we grew old and died." Each of the 16 short stories constituting the collection explores an aspect of the author's hometown, its history and inhabitants, and reflects the author's varying attitudes toward his hometown and his family clan heritage. The author-narrator undertakes a journey back through time to recapture the home that has disappeared. Although subtitled "A Spiritual for Homecoming," not all aspects of the hometown are regarded as positive or deserving of nostalgic longing. The hometown had many worthy and noble features that cannot now be recovered, such as the scholarly ideal and loyalty to the clan. But it also had its sinful and inhuman aspects as well. The old virtues, however, are lost forever, whereas the old vices have disappeared only to be replaced by their modern-day equivalents. Yi also strove to describe the social context of han, or lasting bitterness, the idea most often associated with the Korean psyche. Far from being an abstraction, it is a tragic emotion that arises out of the crucible of real-life experience. Another major concern of Yi Munyol is the question, "What is the true nature of art?" A number of his major works, such as "The Bird with Golden

Yis great erudition makes reading his works an edifying and pleasurable experience. He is also a careful craftsman, and his sentences have dignity even when he seems absent-minded and unsure. It is no wonder that his works have found a growing number of readers across generations and social strata. 85

Wings," "Wild Buffalo," and The Poet, may be called artist stories. Yi is critical of tendentiousness in writers, and values autonomy in art and the aesthetic over the political consciousness. In "The Bird with Golden Wings," Yi focused on the conflict in the ancient art of calligraphy between ethical ideals and aesthetic desire. The hero of this-story rejects his teachers' and the ancient masters' emphasis on moral loftiness as the exclusive domain of beauty in calligraphy. The rebel then leads the condemned life of an artist who seeks artistic autonomy in a genre that traditionally subsumes the aesthetics under ethics. Another important theme for Yi Mun-yol is the true nature of power, and the tyranny of power over people's lives. The dehumanization of humanity caused by an insatiable lust for power is allegorized in "Our Distorted Hero" through a power play enacted in an elementary school class. The children's obsessive quest for power and the Machiavellian machinations by children sometimes seem contrived, but Yi's balanced distribution of sympathy for and judgment on the victims and the victimizer alike mitigate the harshness of the story. In The Age of Heroes, he shows how idealism, even revolutionary idealism, is doomed to be crushed unless enforced by violence, cruelty and intrigue. His view of ideology serving as a tool of power triggered a heated controversy in the politically and ideologically sensitive decade of the 1980s, in the midst of which the book came out. .Yi's thoughts on the role of the artist and his distrust of radical revolutionaries are explicitly stated in The Poet through the central character, Kim Byong-yon. In the book the narrator observes: "As the years went by, he (the poet) began to realize that even in moments when he felt himself completely at one with the common people he was aware of his condescension, and that it was impossible not to feel like an imposter. Putting up with the commoners' ignorance, vulgarity, selfishness and servility 86

was the farthest his so-called love of them went, and he could never embrace them wholeheartedly, nor could he rejoice and suffer with them. He thought he was their spokesman, but speaking for them was no more than an excuse for giving vent to his resentment toward the world, and being faithful to the demands of the commoners may have been no more than a low form of flattery to them." This self-analysis of a "people's poet"

also applies to the intellectuals who make it their business to "serve" the common people. In the case of political revolutionaries, too, the same thirst for power is shown to be the driving force. The rebel Hong Ky6ng-rae and his followers, who masquerade as champions of the oppressed in the story, are shown to be as power hungry as the corrupt officials they oppose, and they "use all means to grab power and force, which are their supreme values." So, in spite of their ostensible causes, the rebels' real objective is to seize power, and in the pursuit of power they do not shy away from methods that would betray their professed ideals.

This, of course, is a criticism constantly levelled at radical revolutionaries by conservatives. Many radicals are criticized for coming from the privileged class and for embracing revolutionary ideology not from a deep understanding and sympathy for the oppressed masses but from vague notions of justice and a guilty conscience. More basically, it is contended, what motivates them is a thirst for power, selfish greed and vanity. Regardless of how just such a conservative view may be, what is important for our consideration is that Yi Mun-yol is a persuasive spokesman of that view. This novel is quite unlike the nineteenth century social novels of the West. In tracing the life of his deviant hero, the author does not hesitate to deviate from the realistic mode, and borrows from the Oriental biographical romance and other genres. The result is an interesting, moving and also elegant fiction. Whether the reader agrees or disagrees with the author's views on literature, humanity, society and history, the book offers ample food for thought on these topics. In addition to being a social conscience for nearly two decades, Yi is also a writer of deep introspection. His early romanticism owes much to this internal scrutiny. His great erudition makes reading his works an edifying and pleasurable experience. He is also a careful craftsman, and his sentences have dignity even when he seems absent-minded and unsure. It is no wonder that his works have found a growing number of readers across generations and social strata. His works have been translated into several foreign languages and have drawn critical attention abroad. This in itself does not prove his superiority over other less-translated Korean authors, but it at least testifies to his universal appeal. So, we have ample reason to anticipate greater things from this author who already has so many brilliant works to his credit. +

NEWS FROM THE KOREA FOUNDATION

Support for Korean Studies Programs Abroad 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 guidelines or further information, please write to:

International Cooperation Department I The Korea Foundiition CPO. Box 2147 Seoul. Korea Tel82-2-753-3464. Fox 82-2-757-204 7.2049

KOREA FOCUS A BIMON711LY ON CURRENT KOREAN 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 wide-ranging selection of informative articles on Korean current affairs. , In this bimonthly, you will find timely reports on Korea's politics, economy, KOREA social environment and culture, opinFOCUS ions on world affairs, and a chronolcgy of recent events in Korea. Published in English and Japanese, ·..--.- - ·.... .._ its articles come from leading publica·-·...._ .. .. tions in Korea, including major daily 1 newspapers, newsmagazines and academic journals.

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The Korea Foundation Fellowship Programs FEllOWSHIP FOR KOREAN STUDIES

and a monthly stipend during the grant period. 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. FEllOWSHIP FOR KOREAN LANGUAGE TRAINING 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 rnajor 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 ~ · 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 II The Korea Foundation CPO. Box 2147 Seoul. Ko rea Te l 82-2-753-6465 Fox 82-2-757-20 47.2049

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