Koreana Autumn 1996 (English) by The Korea Foundation

JUST ONE OF THE 30,000BOTTLES OF WINE

of violets. Best drunk in its youth. or

middle age. Chateau lascorrbes is just one of the many excellent wines we serve. It' s just one more pleasant surprise you'll

WE WILL SERVE THIS YEAR

Excelling in its subtlety, it possesses a light and indefinable

find on Korean Air, and one more

bouquet. underl ining feminine qualities slightly reminiscent

reason you sho uld fly with us.

BEAUTY OF KOREA

P'yojubak Water Dippers

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The mountains and rivers of old Korea were not only beautiful, they also provided clear fresh water for drinking and irrigation. In traditional Korea, travelers carried small dippers called p'yojubak to collect fresh water seeping from between huge boulders or to scoop mineral water from mountain springs. The fragile-looking dippers were used daily and reflected Koreans' love of nature and unpretentious sense of beauty. Each dipper was unique as they were made from a variety of materials. Many were carved from the wood

of the jujube tree in the shape of nectarines, which were thought to symbolize good health and long life. Others were made of zelkova wood, shells or gourds. At the palace and in the homes of the yangban elite, dippers made of bronze, silver or ceramic were often used; some Âˇ were even made of lacquered paper or leather. Travelers often hung their dippers from a belt or a string with a metal or leather fastener because they, whether of high or low birth, needed water during their journeys through the countryside and mountains. +

This peach-shaped wooden water dipper (12 x 16.5 em) from the Choson period is one of 259 treasured artifacts donated to the Korea University Museum by the late Ye Yong-hae, a journalist and member of the National Committee for the Preservation of Cultural Properties, in 1977.

KOREAN ART & CULTURE

Cover: Water is an indis-

pensable element of everyone's life. This issue

of KOREANA focuses on water, the Korean at-

titude toward water and its place in Korean cui-

Water in Korean Life and Culture

ture.

Water and Korea

by Choi Il-nam

Korea's Traditional Concept of Gardens and Water

18 Wells and Springs in Korean Life

by Yoo Byung-rim

by Kim Kwang-on

26 Water and the History of Korean Science by Park Seong-tae

-<;

ÂŠ77:;e Korea Foundation 1996 All rights reserved No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without tbe prior permission of The Korea Foundation The opinio ns expressed by the authors do not necessarily represent those of the editors of KOREANA or The Korea Foundation. KOREANA , registered as a quarterly magazine with the Ministry of Information (Registration No. Ba-1033, dated Aug. 8, 1987), is also published in French, Spanish, Japanese and Chinese.

Meaning of Water in Korean Folk Religion

by Im Chae-hae

40 ON THE ROAD

S6mjin-gang River by Kim ]oo-young

48 KOREAN ARTISTS ABROAD

Woo Kyu-sung: The Aesthetics of Restraint by Kang Hong-bin

Korea Foundation

Vol.lO , No 3 Autumn 1996

WhatMakesK by Pak Yong-suk orean Paintings Korean?

62 Trends in Kor . by Oh Kwang-su ean Pamting

KOREAN A Published The K quarterly by 526 Namda orea Foundation emunno 5 Seoull00-09' -Kga, Chung-gu, ), orea PUBliSHER-EDITOR

Klm joungwon

EDITOR-IN-cHIEF

Hong Soon-il

INTERVIEW

On the Trail of S . . . J:hotographer K"pmts m Asia; Y K1m Young-uk 1ffi Soo-nam

ART DIRECTOR

Park Seung-u ASSOCIATE EDITOR

Klm Young-uk

Kim EDITORIAL BOARD Kim Kwang-on . Hyung-kook Klm Moon-hwan Klm Seong-wou Lee Ku-yeol L1m Yio ung-bang

DISCOVERING KOREA

Freshwater Fish f Korean Pen. o by ]eon Sang-Rinmsula

80 CURRENTS

Koreans Abroad and the New Generation by Kim Moon-h wan

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ln Search of Confirmation by Cheon Yi-doo

p~lstbeGoa Translated by Lee Young-gul and Janice Vere Hilburn AHercules ol the CitY SlUftlS Translated by Suh Ji-moon

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decay," guarding against human greed to build a system of drainage facilities on a massive scale. with a lesson that stagnant water is bound to spoil. The second reason for controlling the flow of water was to devejop agriculMany old proverbs speak of the ture, rice cultivation in particular, for scarcity of water in autumn. "Even the water collected in a cow's footprint is which effective irrigation was essential. Irrigation facilities were developed well consumed in autumn," and "To avoid the autumn rain, hide beneath an old before the Samhan era. Many dikes dating to the ancient past still exist in Kinfje man's beard" are just two proverbs in the ChOlla-do region and Sangju, about autumn and water. Proverbs Uisong, Chech'on and Miryang in the reflect a people's way of life, and there are few countries that can match the Kyongsang-do region. Pyokkolche Dike in Kimje, probably built during the nearly 100 proverbs related to water in Korea. Paekche Kingdom, has been designated Not all proverbs praise the virtues of Historical Site No. lll. The name appears to have been derived from the word water, however. On the contrary, many py6t-kol, literally "a valley of rice." are wittily chiding. This is, in fact, the The third reason to control water charm of proverbs. They rebuke and exalt. The exaltation ot' water rehites to was the need to secure waterways. its innate characteristics, whereas the King T'aejo's selection of Hanyang as the Choson Dynasty's new capital was rebukes reproach people's misuse of partly based on the need for access to water resources. waterways. T'aejo first chose Shindo-an on the foot of Mt. Kyeryongsan "The water in the lower reaches of in today's Ch'ungch'onga stream will only be clear if the water nam-do province as his capital, despite opposiin the upper reaches is clear.'' tion from his advisors. But he later changed his mind in favor of Hanyang because it was on the Han River. Consider this proverb: "The sound of The Choson Dynasty prospered therewater flowing into my fields and milk after, as ships could travel easily on the flowing down the throat of my child are the most beautiful in the world." river and its tributaries. There w as even talk of digging a canal from the Such a proverb would be inconceivable Yongsan-gang River to the South Gate. if there were always enough rainfall. It Today, prudent management of is easy to imagine how happy a farmer water is as important as it was in tradiwould be to hear the music of water tional society. flowing over a sluice into a dry rice field. The sound of an infant suckling its Water and Korean Proverbs mother's breast is also wonderful. It Water is a symbol of tolerance and helps people realize what tranquility tranquility. However, once the force of means. The acts of eating and sleeping, water is unleashed, nothing is safe. only to wake up to be fed again, are the Thus, there is a saying, "A drought leaves infant's only activities. Each swallow of something, but a flood leaves nothing." milk becomes flesh and blood for a A fire may leave a trace of whatever it baby. Thus it is almost impossible to touches, but a great flood has an awedescribe the utter misery of parents some temper that sweeps away all signs of civilization. Still, water symbolizes A lion-shaped fountain at cleanliness of life. Hence, it teaches, PuyongjOng in the Secret Garden of "Anything that goes against the flow will Ch~ngdokuPace

who are unable to feed their children. Surely they would do anything to feed them. This is why Blind Man Shim's song, as he holds his youllg daughter Shimch'ong after the death of his wife in the p'ansori opera Shim-ch'6ng-ga, is so heart-wrenching.

Oh, please, ladies. Would you suckle this baby? The poor thing lost her mother a week after being born and now she cries so pitifully for her mother's breast Please have pity and suckle this child if you have some milk left after nursing your own precious baby. Would you please give some to this young child? Otherwise she will starve. Another saying that evokes compassion and pity is: "When water fills a bottomless jar ... " It suggests impossibility, much like the Western expression, "When hell freezes over." This saying comes from a folk song from Korea's central region.

Child, oh child, don't cry. Is it cake that you want? Is it rice that you want? No, I don't want cake, I don't want rice. Give me my mother's milk. Your mother will be here When the buds from three sacks of coral and three sacks of pearls sprout on those hills yonde1; When the rooster in the painting crows, When water fills a bottomless ja1: Koreans have a tendency to "bail water from a leaky boat." This means people tend to respond to every probThe entrance to Paek-yangsa Temple in Mt. Naejangsan National Park, Chollabuk-do province

!em with makeshift solutions instead of finding fundamental answers. What about the saying, "Even cold water is fine when you call it a prize'? All people crave praise and rewards. People tend to believe that any prize or award is better than nothing, even if it earns the scorn or ridicule of others. This proverb is reminiscent of the old saying, "Trying to work up a sweat in a cold room after drinking cold water." This means doing something that does not make sense or expecting good fortune to drop out of the sky without making any effort to earn it. Any prize won as easily as "hitting water with a fist" is no prize at all. The saying "The boat will only arrive when the water flows" suggests that all results have prerequisites. "Water may flow but a stream is always a stream" means that despite ceaseless changes the

essence of an object remains unchanged. This is the foundation for another proverb: "Do not cross anything if it is not water or befriend anyone who is not compassionate." There is much to be learned from the practical and profound teachings of these proverbs. The saying "Water poured on the top of the head always flows to the heels" means that the actions and behavior of older persons influence the young. This is similar to another overworked proverb: "The water in the lower reaches of a stream will only be clear if the water in the upper reaches is clear." Ordinary truths such as "A sin follows the sinner and a stream follows its course" and "Water will spill when the bowl is full" follow the laws of nature like a full moon that always fades. These proverbs, coupled with the belief

that "No flower lasts more than ten days" (meaning no power can last long), have enabled the Korean people to endure harsh times. These prQverbs do not refer only to the rise and fall of power. Nothing can last forever in its fully developed state. Everyone and everything must come down after reaching the highest point of a journey.

Changes in Language In recent times, expressions related to water have taken on quite unintended meanings. Just as the purity of water changes, so does the purity of language. For example, mul-i chotta (literally "the water is good") used to refer to the freshness of fish and other marine products. Nowadays, however, the phrase has an entirely different, and somewhat crude, connotation. Phrases such as m ul-i katta ("the water has turned bad"), coupled

with mas-i katta (''the taste has turned") are now used to refer to people of little consequence. They are also used to describe a woman who has lost her physical appeaL When applied to a man, the same phrases suggest that he has lost his influence and is practically useless. One must remember that the uninterrupted flow of water keeps it-and, for that matter, human society-healthy, whereas stagnant water is destructive and does not serve its proper function. Several years ago, the late Venerable Song-ch'ol, a former patriarch of the Buddhist Chogye Order, said on the occasion of the Buddha's Birthday that "a mountain is a mountain and water is water:' He also asked, "Why don't we all join the bees and butterflies in their dancing?'' The speech gave rise to concerns that he was fanning nihilism because Korean society was under dicta-

torial military rule at that time. Criticism followed on the heels of this now famous speech. The speech, which took a question-and-answer approach, also drew disapproval from the Buddhist community itself, which feared his seemingly ambiguous teachings might lead ordinary people to leap to conclusions that suited their own selfish interests and even rationalized injustice. While there was some truth to this, it was only after the monk's passing, when his magnificent and fervent practices of asceticism were revealed, that people realized such petty concerns could not have been in the mind of this great monk who isolated himself from secular life and spent 10 years sitting crosslegged in meditation without lying down and 10 more in silence without uttering a word. People should stop trying to interpret the unchanging truth of the Venerable S6ng-ch'6l's simple teaching. Would it not be better for those absorbed in the mundane world to return to proverbs of simpler meanings? The proverb "Water from the eaves always -drips in the same place" comes to mind as I write this. The Venerable SOng-ch'ol's successor, W6lha, also spoke of water. "The sound of a stream is the word of the Buddha, the mountain scenery the Buddha himself." The soothing sound of flowing water Glears the mind, and a calm, clear mind is necessary for those who seek the truth. Yun Son-do (1587-1675), a Choson Dynasty poet who contributed greatly to the development of kasa verse during his exile in Haenam on the south coas~ once recited the following:

Magnificent is the color of clouds But black they often tum. Crystalline is the sound of the wind But cease it often does. Only water flows on, Magnificent and never-ending. But even as it flows today, my heart aches when I think of what we have done to our once clean water. â&#x20AC;˘

habit is related to the Korean attitwde toward water as well as Koreans' traditional concept of what constitutes a

part of the ames se for ponds or outdeor pavilions in ancient Korea. It signified the purification of the mind through water. A painting of a summer house owned by Kim Cho-sun (1765-1831), the father-in-law of the Chos6n Dynasty's King Sunjo, shows the many uses of water. Near the men's quarters in the front courtyard of the house, which was called Okhoj6ng, are a small flower tray, an herb garden, some strangely shaped rocks,

~ [@;ij~/bf

{ff]Qmj r!.is~

In autumn, the sound of wa'ter echoes

through Soswaewon, a garden created

'?Y the early Choson scholar Yang San-bo in Tam yang, Chollanam-do

small pine trees and a beehive. On the slope leading. to the ugper part of the garden are a small tile-roofed pavilion and a ,thatched pavilion. In front of the tavilions are flow __....",., _.â&#x20AC;˘ trees, stone figures, a stream with a stone bed and a small pine grove. The ater flowing between the stones in the stream falls directly into the pond through a amboo pipe. at different levels Locating two p~nds doubled the observer's pleasure. The sound of a mountain stream guShing

This painting (left) depicts the traditional landscape of an upper

class home, OkhojOng. Soswaewon (right) is rich in the traditional landscape idiom with stone stairs, walls and lotus ponds.

by the house must have heightened the flavor of summer. It was not difficult to draw water into the garden because summer houses during the Chason era were purposely built nearby rivers or mountain streams and drew water directly from them to feed artificial ponds. The water supply from streams varied throughout the year, however, so a technique for drawing a constant amount of water into the pond through a small wooden or bamboo conduit was developed. Soswaewon in Tamyang, ChOllanam-do province, offers an outstanding example of this technique. The water flowing into the pond from the bamboo conduit creates a different sound in autumn when water is in short supply. People living on flat terrain stored surface water during the rainy season or drew water from distant rivers and mountain streams for their gardens. Water was often in short supply.

The Sound of Water Because of the general lack of water, most ponds in the gardens of ordinary homes were small and shallow. To compensate for their ponds' 12

small size and depth, people introduced the sound of water into their gardens. Traditional gardens usually included either a pond or water flowing down an incline, or both. When one pond was located in the upper part of the garden and another below, water was allowed to flow beneath the surface, out of sight. Every garden in Woe-am-ri in Asan, Ch'ungch'ongnam-do province, used water in this manner. In the Songhwa-taek garden at Woe-am-ri, water flows through a narrow waterway instead of along the mountain stream. The sound of the water in the waterway can be heard from the men's quarters. One way to understand traditional Korean ideas about space is to examine the attitudes of the gentlemenscholars and gentry who were concerned about creating a suitable personal environment. The most representative examples of their spatial understanding are their gardens and the use of water in creating those gardens. Gardens were the traditional domain of men and usually located in a quiet and isolated spot. Rocks, pine trees, ponds and lotus flowers-in short, nature itself-were typically included in the garden. The peaceful-

Yihuayuan, the summer palace of the Chinese dynasties (top), a garden in Xuzhou, a Chinese city famous for its gardens (center), and the gardens of Silver Pavilion in Kyoto, japan (above)

ness of the garden allowed a person to forget the outside world, if only for a brief moment, and to indulge in idealistic thoughts. In other words, the garden allowed the resident to enter a state of utopia. In traditional gardens, water was usually present in the form of a pond. A small island called ch ungdo, or "island in the center," was often placed in the middle of a rectangular pond. In traditional society, Koreans thought it was possible that the island was or could be inhabited by supernatural beings. This belief was based on shinson ideology, a Taoist belief in immortals who live in mountains. Interestingly, ponds vary in style in each of the three East Asian countries, although they all embraced Confucian culture. In Chinese gardens, ponds are usually wide enough to be ÂˇCrossed with a boat and, in many cases, are molded artificially; the gardens are generally built for strolling around the ponds. The Chinese try to recreate the natural scenery of large mountains and streams on a small scale in their gardens. Japanese gardens, on the other hand, usually do not loop around a pond. In the famous Japanese garden Hiraniwa Karesansui, which is believed to have been modeled after Korea's Anapchi in Kyongju, ancietJ.t capital of the Shilla Kingdom,. the sea and rivers are represented with sand and pebbles, instead of water. Water scenes in Korean gardens often use mountain streams in their natural form, while _ponds are usually rectangular with an island in the center, featuring abstract rather than natural forms. One particular quality of Korea's traditional gardens were ponds that could not be crossed. A person could view the central island from the pond's edge or from within a structure beside the pond. The pine trees, Chinese arborvitae, bamboo trees or other landscaping were recreated in abstract, idealistic forms. Thus, the observer confronted each natural

object from a certain distance and perceived it as an abstract and ideal object. Pond size had to be small Because Koreans could noJ afford large gardens, and most were located near valleys, rocky areas or hills. An island sits at the center of ,the pond at Anapchi in Kyongju. The pond is not rectangular, however, because that was not a practical shape for the large pond required for the royal garden. It was also logical for the designers to utilize the existing natural forms. An interesting feature of Anapchi is that the pond cannot be seen in its entirety from any point around it. This makes it seem larger than it is. Anapchi is quite small compared to the ponds in Chinese and Japanese palaces, but it gives the impression of being spacious and deep. The magnificent panorama created by the ponds at Versailles results from the vastness of the garden itself. The smaller ponds of Korean gardens relied on illusion and imagination for their special ambience.

Ponds from a Cultural Perspective Koreans' use of water in traditional gardens is fundamentally different from that of the Chinese or Japanese. This difference is most evident in the relationship between the shape of a pond and the island at its center. Chinese gardens usually had a pavilion on the central island, and it was possible to cross over to the opposite side of the garden. The central island was thought of as a practical space. On the island, people admired the view around them from inside the pavilion. It was thus only natural that ponds needed to be quite large, large enough for people to float about in small boats. The Chinese also liked to build buildings or corridors around the pond, turning the island into an element of the scenery. For this reason, a bridge was built to the island itself, enabling people to walk to it and lean against the railings of the pavilion,

admiring the surrounding scenery. Poets often alluded to such scenes. The Chinese carefully arranged objects to create an idealized overall effect. They also built structures in a way that would emphasize the framing effect, capturing the beauty of a tree or flower through a gate or window. Japan's traditional gardens, on the other hand, were constructed so as to bring people back to the original point of departure, instead of allowing them to cross over to the other side. Ponds tended to be natural shapes, unlike Korea's rectangular ones. Japanese gardens were similar to Chinese gardens in their use of water as a given element of nature. The raked sand and natural rocks of Karesansui Garden symbolize the vast sea and mountains. In Piwon, the "Secret Garden" in Seoul, there is a pond called Aeryonji, "Love Lotus Pond." Aeryonji is filled with lotus flowers in summer. From ancient times, Korea's gentlemenscholars revered lotus flowers because they blossom from muddy water. In observing nature, gentlemen-scholars paid close attention to an object's final form in its natural surroundings and tried to look at everything from an ethical standard. When planting even the tiniest plant, they tried to find one that represented the values of Confucianism, which is why the "Four Gracious Objects"-water, rock, pine and bamboo-are found in all traditional gardens. Gentlemen-scholars often planted plum trees because plum blossoms sprouting through the snow in early spring were valued for their symbolism. The literati chose natural elements for their symbolic significance, not necessarily their innate beauty. The beauty of a pure plum blossom was of less significance to classical scholars; its embodiment of the moral values which they revered was more important. Puyongjong in Piwon is a beautiful pavilion. Its shape resembles a person

One way to understand traditional Korean ideas about space is to examine the attitudes of the gentlemen-scholars and gentry who were concerned with creating a suitable personal environment The most representative examples of their spatial understanding are their gardens and the use of water in creating those gardens.

Aeryonji, a pond in the Secret Garden of Ch'angdokkung Palace, is filled with lotus flowers in summer, hence its name "Love Lotus Pond." At its northern edge stands a small square pavilion built in

1692

dipping his or her feet in a stream. Half of the pavilion is on land; the other half is in the water. The same is true of Hwallaejong in Kangnung, Kangwon-do province, and Namganjongsa in Hoedok, Ch'ungch'ongnamdo province. How did this unique configuration come about? The answer lies in the concept of nature held by traditional scholars. From early times, the classical gentlemen-scholars believed that the correct path for a scholar meant helping 16

to govern the nation in accordance with the king's wishes and returning to a life 'of isolation in the countryside once his bureaucratic career ended. A life in seclusion was the life of a scholar. Much of Korea's classical literature depicts this isolated lifestyle. The terms t'aksa and t'akchok, which refer to dipping one's feet in a stream in summer and spending one's time idly, came to represent the life of gentlemen-scholars who lived in the country, away from worldly avarice

and greed. As these concepts represented the gentlemen-scholars' basic attitude toward the viewing of objects, it was natural that they should be represented in the gardens and pavilions where the scholars spent most of their time. A pavilion with two columns in the water resembles a gentlemanscholar with his feet in a stream. Accordingly, a pavilion reflected in a garden pond symbolized the scholar and his life, which is why so many

Water was used to create depth and sound in the traditional garden. Clockwise from left: Anapchi in Kyongju; Puyongjong in the Secret Garden of Ch'angdokkung Palace; a garden scene from a landscape album by the midChoson painter Yi Kyong-yun; and Mugiyondang, a pond in Ch'ilgok, Kyongsangbuk-do province. Below, Hwallaejong at Son-gyojang, a garden in the east coast city of Kangniing

pavilions in Korea are called t'aksa. Korea's classical scholars tried to realize their philosophical ideal of moderation by building their pavilions in this manner. They were trying to take one step closer to utopia. The significance of Korea's traditional concept of a person's surroundings can only be understood when one looks beyond the simple visual beauty of an object or structure and attempts to understand the spiritual world of the traditional gentleman-scholar. +

Koreans' use of water in traditional gardens is fundamentally different from that of the Chinese or japanese. This difference is most evident in the relationship between the shape of a pond and the island at its center. 17

IN KOREAN LIFE Kim Kwang-on Professor of Folklore Inha University

he Korean people have many words for a well: saem, shiam,

saemt'o, tchok saem, ture saem, chaktu sa em, um ul. Regional

variants and separate words for different kinds of wells add to the list. In the provinces north of Seoul, wells inside residential compounds or from which water is drawn with a bucket are called umul, whereas community wells from which water is scooped with a hollow gourd from a squatting position are called saem. In the southern provinces, all wells are called saem. Tchok saem is a shallow well from which water is scooped with a split gourd. Thus it is sometimes called pakum ul, literally "gourd well." Ture saem are deeper wells fit with wooden buckets called ture. In order to make it easier to draw water, a stone is tied to one end of a long rope and the bucket to the other. A chaktu saem is a modern well which uses a pump to draw water. The well gets its name from the movement of the pump arm which is similar to that of a chaktu, a large fodder knife. Natural wells or springs have their own names. A puch'ul-ch'on is a natural spring seeping between rocks, and a chisang-ch'on is a small spring created by water slowly seeping out of an indentation in the ground. Supchi-chon are underground springs that feed marshes and swamps. Human beings depend on an endless 18

supply of water for their existence. The

Songs of Flying Dragons (Yongbioch'onga), a cycle of 248 poems compiled to commemorate the founding of the Choson Dynasty by Yi Song-gye, refer to water on several occasions. The second song typifies the traditional belief in the importance of water:

.The stream whose source is deep Gushes forth even in a drought. It fo1ms a river And gains a sea. <Translated by Peter H. Lee, in Anthology of Korean Literature, compiled and edited by Peter H. Lee, (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1983), p. 74>

The word saem refers to any constant source of liquid. It is also used to refer to the flow of bodily substances such as perspiration-ttamsaem-or saliva-ch'imsaem. The term saemt'o refers to an endless source of water or strength. In the past, Koreans held wells and springs sacred and believed that dragons lay eggs in them. At dawn on the first

A bubblingspringatSamsiJnghyol, three holes in the ground from which, according to legend, the progenitors of the three major clans of Chejudo Island are said to have emerged.

ChamaejOng, a well at the birthplace of thegreatShillageneralKbn Yu-shin (595-673) in Kyongju, is made of interlocking stone blocks.

In the pas~

Koreans

held wells and springs sacred and believed that dragons lay eggs in d1em. 20

"dragon day" of the lunar new year, homemakers rush to the well to get the first bucket of water to cook their family's breakfast. According to a long-established folk custom, the family that eats rice cooked with the new year's first "dragon's egg" will enjoy a bountiful harvest. Dragons symbolize rain to the Korean people, and whoever captures the rain will have a year of plenty. Water from a well is also considered a sacred force capable of influencing a household's fortunes. After returning

home triumphant from battle against the Paekche forces, the Shilla general Kim Yu-shin (595-673) was told that Paekche was mounting another attack He immediately ordered a servant to bring a bowl of water from the Kim family well and drank from it. "Ah, the taste has not changed. We are sure to win," he declared, and in fact, Shilla did defeat Paekche. This folk belief lives on today. When misfortune strikes, older people often say that the "well water has gone bad."

A well's mystical power can also ward off natural disasters. In some areas of ChOllabuk-do province, villagers "fill a small dish with oil, plac~ a cotton wick in it, light the homemade lamp and float it on the local well as they pray to the heavens forâ&#x20AC;˘one year free of incident. Some regions hold saem kut, shamanist rites appealing for clear, constant well water. The rite, which is performed at the communal well, is usually observed after a ceremony at the shrine honoring the village's tutelary deity. Koreans also believed that wells could cure terminal illnesses. There was once a filial son whose father was very ill. His father loved to drink wine, but the young man had no money to buy any for his father. Instead, he went to the village well every morning and evening and returned with fresh well water for his father. One day the water turned to wine, and the father recovered from his illness after drinking it. From that day on, the well was called Hyogam-ch'on, the "Filial Well:' A well made by digging a hole in the ground and allowing water to accumulate is called a t'ojOng, literally an earthen well. When water seeps from or collects between rocks, it is called a s6kch6ng, or "stone well." Sometimes, a stone wall is built around an earthen well and a log frame called a umul pangt'ul is laid across the top. Koreans believe that wells possess a mysterious life force. The Shilla kingdom's founder, Pak Hyokkose, is said to have hatched from an egg at a well called NajOng at the foot of Mt. Yangsan, and his future wife was said to have been the offspring of a hen dragon that appeared in a well called AryongjOng. Wells were also thought to be entryways to the mystical Dragon's Palace, or Yonggung. The grandmother of the founder of the Koryo Dynasty, Yongnyo, or Dragon Woman, is said to have frequented the Dragon's Palace through the large well in the capital of Kaesong, which indicates that the Koryo people believed the well led to the sea.

Sometimes a stone wall is built around an earthen well and a log-frame, umul pangt'iil, is laid across the top (top). A place where water seeps from or collects between rocks is called sokchong, or "stone welli. (above). Hollow logs are sometimes used to carry water from streams (below).

Because wells were thought to have mystical powers, people believed wells could punish people who committed a wrong. Among the many stories of well water's mystical powers is an account from the childhood of T'arhae, the fourth monarch of the Shilla Kingdom in the first century. When the young monarch was climbing a mountain, he became thirsty and ordered a servant to bring him some water. The servant, himself thirsty, took a sip of the water as he returned from the well. The gourd scoop stuck fast to the servant's lips and refused to let go until he promised to never again drink before his sovereign. A stone-lined well at Chongmyo, the royal ancestral shrine of the Choson. Dynasty (above), and a stone waterway carrying water from a spring (below)

Magical Powers Water taken from a well at dawn is called ch6nghwasu. It is thought to have special powers when used in prayers to the heavenly spirits or in preparing medicinal potions. As a memorial offering to ancestors, a bowl of chonghwasu is believed to rival a table laden with the finest delicacies. For this reason, many poor couples say their marriage vows in the presence of a single bowl of water. In W olsong-gun, Kyongsangbuk -do province, villagers gather before a bowl of ch6nghwasu and pray for a bountiful harvest on the first day of the second ~unar month. The water is called "farming water," nongsam ul, and is thoughrto ensure adequate rainfall. Ch6nghwasu is also believed to be capable of driving away evil spirits. Therefore, shamans often pl!rify a ritual site by splashing it with a mixture of ch6nghwasu and ash. In ordinary homes, well water signifies good fortune. Traditionally, people do not like visitors asking to draw water from the family well after sunset because it is thought to draw good fortune away from the family, a belief that lives on today. It is a general rule that one must not go to another family's well before the sun rises or after it sets. In traditional villages, the largest shade tree is the exclusive domain of

men while the well is dominated by women. Women spend a great deal of time at the well because they draw Âˇwater there, as well as wash and trim vegetables and do laundry. Âˇsince it is natural that they should talk while they work, the well is the spot to hear the village gossip. Occasionally, there are quarrels, but for ordinary women, the well is a workplace, a rest place, a meeting place and a place to learn about how the world works. In the old days it was even a spot for young lovers. Young women were not allowed to leave their homes after sunset, but a girl could sneak out simply by picking up a water jar and pretending that she was going to the well. The/ young lovers were only able to exchange a few words at the well, but that made their feelings all the stronger. Of course, the well was not always a happy place. Occasionally someone would throw themself into the well out of despair. The villagers were particularly afraid of the spirits of people who died in this manner and called them "well ghosts." Today when someone escapes some difficulty and pushes someone else into his place, he is said to be "catching well ghosts." It was not uncommon for small children or other people to fall into a well accidentally and drown. Hence another common expression: When someone feels a strange uneasiness, they often say, "I feel like I sent my child to the well." In parts of Sosan-gun in Ch'ungch'ongnam-do province, villagers place three spoons of rice at the communal well on the fifteenth day of the sixth lunar month and ask the spirits to prevent their children from falling into the well. Communal wells are usually found at the center of the village, but in large villages, several wells are dug and shared by neighboring households. The cleaning and maintenance of wells are the responsibility of the households using them. Well "committees," or um ulgye, handle the management of each well. Each year responsibility for

Osaek Mineral Springs in Kangwon-do province (above). The well at Nak-aniipsong, a folk village in the Chollanam-do town of Polgyo, (below) is unique for the groove which allows waste water to flow away naturally. In traditional villages, women worked, gossiped and learned of the world a t the communal well.

7 he Korean per)plt Âˇ tenJt n( ~ rr /1f lit ~ t

the cmativc t!t 11 of

mineral water O'f\.-C5 mucl1 to their my<.tic-Jl approa(h tc> and rt ~

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Clockwise from top: restaurants clustered around Talgi Mineral Springs, one of many mineral springs in and around Ch uwangsan National Park; a mineral spring from which people can drink easily; Shinch'on Mineral Springs is crowded with visitors drawn by the medicinal benefits of its water; the water of the Shinch'on Mineral Springs is discolored because it is rich in iron and calcium. 24

the well shifts from one family in the umulgye to another. The members hold regular meetings in early spring, during the summer rainy season and after the fall harvest. When the well is shared by the whole village, every villager is a member of the umulgye. The villagers all share in the expenses of maintaining the well, but funds are also collected at the time of the chishin palki rite on the first full moon of the lunar new year. During the chishin palki rite, a farmers' band goes from house to house, playing boisterous music as it circles each kitchen and barn, asking the Earth God (chishin) for good health and a long life for all members of the household. The traditional Korean woman was extremely frugal in her use of water. In the mountainous region near the southern coast, when a woman collected water from a well with a bucket she was always sure to return part of every third bucketful to the well. The same practice was followed when water was collected in gourd scoops. The villagers believed that returning part of the third bucket or scoop promoted the birth of sons and brought about general good fortune. Water played an important role in the selection of wives for strait-laced families. Before the groom's family committed itself to a future daughter-inlaw, they sent scouts to her village to find out if she was frugal in her use of water, a custom that reflects the traditional belief that wasting water meant a loss of good fortune. Our family had a well when I was a child and my grandmother always warned me to use water carefully. According to her, people who were not frugal with water in this life were condemned to drink all the water they had wasted when they died and went to the world beyond. In the city, the family well played the role of a refrigerator before modernday refrigerators were introduced in the 1970s. Melons and tomatoes were kept cool in the well, and round baskets con-

taining containers of cooked rice, kimchi or leftovers were often hung on the walls inside the well to prevent spoilage ih summer.

Medicine Water Water from natural springs is thought to have medicinal value when consumed or used for bathing. Sometimes when a sick person has not responded to conventional treatment, he or she will go to a spa near a mineral spring to drink and bathe in its waters. Many people claim to have cured intestinal problems ~ neuralgia, diabetes and skin disorders by drinking medicinal water for long periods of time Generally, a shrine honoring the mountain god or a village tutelary deity is located near a mineral spring. Dedicated believers offer a bowl of water at the shrine before drinking any themselves. Once or twice a year the villagers also hold a "medicine water rite" at the spring to guarantee that the water continues to flow. More than 20 of Korea's best known mineral springs are located deep in the ravines of Mt. S6raksan in Kangwon-do. Because of their isolation, they are often the subjects of old legends. One legend tells of a herculean child born near Wangbawi Spring, deep in the mountains of Samch'6k-gun county. Another tale originating in Inje-gun tells of a deer injured by a hunter's arrow that was cured by washing its wound in mineral water from Pangdong Spring. There are also many legends of mountain wizards appearing at mineral springs. The medicinal power of mineral water is thought to be enhanced by using the water in preparing such health foods as chicken, duck, pheasant or wild boar stews, together with wild mountain herbs and vegetables. Chuwangsan National Park in Ch'6ngsong-gun in Ky6ngsangbuk-do is famous for a dish called talgi yaksu, in which chicken and branches of the native lacquer trees are boiled in mineral water. Talgi means to ''boil down" or "stew" and yaksu means "medicinal water."

Pangdong Mineral Springs in Inje-gun, Kangwon-do province, was discovered by a ginseng gatherer.

Scientific analyses, however, have revealed that "medicinal water" differs little from regular water. It has no more medicinal value than regular mineral water wh1ch contains slightly higher amounts of iron, calcium, magnesium and other minerals. Of course, the water can benefit people lacking minerals in their regular diets, but for people already consuming a healthy diet it can actually contribute to dangerously high levels of heavy metals in the body. Thus the miraculous recoveries attributed to drinking and bathing in water from "medicinal" springs most

likely derive from the psychological benefits of a belief in their curative power as well as the benefit of a person's retreat to the mountains, away from the stress of everyday life. The Korean people's tendency to believe in the curative effects of mineral water owes much to their mystical approach to and reverence for water in the first place. Even Korean place names, such as Seoul's Yaksu-dong, "Medicinal Water Place," and Y6ngch'6n-dong, "Magical Fountain Place," reveal the Korean people's fascination with and belief in the power of water and wells. + 25

Korean Park Seong-rae Professor of History Hankook University of Foreign Studies

ater is a central element of life in an agrarian society. Floods were not a serious concern long ago when . there were few cities to speak of, whereas many people are likely to suffer today. In an agrarian society, a shortage of rain was disastrous for everyone. Droughts were the ultimate threat to human existence. Not surprisingly, Korean historical records frequently mention droughts and the royal court's subsequent response. Dikes and reservoirs were built, water wheels were used to bring water up from lower elevations, and ceremonies were held to pray for rain, both at court and in the countryside. The building of dikes and reservoirs was an early precursor to modern civil engineering. Boats were used to transport people and freight by river and sea, while bridge-building gradually became more advanced. The history of Korean science is replete with considerable developments in irrigation,

flood control and transportation. In many cases, Koreans seem to have been more advanced than their Asian neighbors. They also took advantage of their local climate, storing ice cut from rivers in winter for use during summer. Evidence indicates that icehouses were built at several sites around the country from the Koryo Dynasty onward. These examples provide much to talk about. Many of the Korean inventions related to water have parallels in China and Japan, but in most cases, additional research remains to be done. This review of the role of water in the history of science in Korea will focus on several notable areas in which a reasonable degree of research has been done.

Water Clocks The water clock is one of the best known of Korea's early scientific achievements and is an object of widespread interest. A Choson Dynasty

water clock even .appears on the 10,000-won bill used today. Chang Yong-shil, who built an automatic water clock in the early 15th century, is widely known as an outstanding inventor of his time. Chang's water clock was not Korea's first, however. The History of the Three Kingdoms (Samguk sagi) contains a t:eference to water clocks used during the Shilla period. According to The History of the Three Kingdoms, a government office called NugakchOn was installed in 718 to be inÂˇÂˇ charge of water clocks. This record indicates that water clocks were already in use at that time and that NugakchOn handled activities related to other matters as well. Since there are no references to an independent office of astronomy at the time and in later periods an office handled both water clocks and astronomy, it can be assumed that Nugakchon was probably responsible for both areas. Water clocks were used in many

ancient civilizations and thus the water clock is not a particularly remarkable invention. Clearly, water clocks existed in Korea well before 718 and many more were developed during the Koryo Dynasty that followed Shilla. The History of Koryo (Koryosa) contains no specific references to water clocks, but there is an entry stating that the Office of Astronomy was responsible for water clocks as well. The fact that there are no specific references suggests that water clocks were so common that they did not warrant mention. In the early Choson Dynasty, a water clock was used to establish the royal time standard, and Chang Yongshil invented several more advanced versions, including his chagyongnu, an automatic self-striking water clock completed in 1434. Chang, born in Tongnae, near what is now Pusan, first captured the attention of King Sejong in 1424 when he invented a water clock called kyongjOmjigi. From historical records, it does not appear to have been automatic. Apparently, Chang modified an existing water clock with additional water tanks and a water gauge. Chang continued his research and in 1434 introduced the chagyongnu . None remains today, but The Annals of King Sejong (Sejongshillok) and other historical records contain detailed descriptions of it. A water clock, modeled after the chagyongnu with five water tanks, was created one century later and is still intact. From this, one can imagine that Chang attached several percussion devices to the moving paddles found on existing water clocks. The devices went off each hour, producing the sound of a bell, gong or drum. The clock also featured small figures that appeared on the hour. There is no way of knowing how Chang's chagyongnu compared with other water clocks which were developed around the world. Historical

An automatic water clock invented by Chang Y ong-shil in the early 15th century

records indicate the Chinese and Arabs had already invented water clocks by that time, and Chang might have read some Chinese literature on the subject. However, by all indications, most of his work sprang from his own research and the chagyongnu was undoubtedly the most advanced water clock which Korea had ever seen. Chang was praised for his invention by King Sejong who encouraged him to continue his work After four more

years of experimentation, Chang created an even more complicated water clock fitted with astronomical devices, the ongnu. It kept time and also replicated the movements of the sun and moon. In addition, it was fitted with a farmer figurine that plowed a field and planted seeds as the clock mechanism moved. Unfortunately, this clock, too, did not survive. The mechanisms employed in water clocks were also used in astro27

nomical instruments, such as Hon-ui and Han-sang, two astronomical instruments installed on the north side of the main pond at Kyongbokkong Palace in Seoul. These water-driven mechanisms were used in astronomical devices in the 17th century as well. They were not, however, part of everyday life. The only water-powered device with widespread use by common people was the water wheel

'111e ironclad turtle fx)a ts used to repel the Japanese invasions of the L1te 16th centurv are perhaps the best known example of the con ve1gence of water and science in Korea. The vessels are also evidenct'

The Turtle Boat The ironclad turtle boats used to repel the Japanese invasions of the late 16th century are perhaps the best known example of the convergence of water and science in Korea. The vessels are also evidence of the high

of the h1gh let. c/ of tee hnologJ

111

Kort>a Âˇ., shif >hwldmg inclustr y

at that time

level of technology in Korea's shipbuilding industry at that time. The turtle boat was essentially a modified version of vessels with cabins being built at that time. Unfortunately, little information about the boats remains from that period. The only renderings available today are two simple sketches which were included in a biography of Admiral Yi Sun-shin that was compiled some time after his death. To build a turtle boat, the deck of a boat with a cabin was replaced with a rounded top which was covered with metal spikes to prevent enemies from boarding. The bow of the boat was shaped like a dragon and records suggest that a cannon could be fired out

The turtle boat played a decisive role in the defense against the]apanese invasions of the late 16th century. 28

SOkbinggo in Kyongju was used for ice storage from the late Chosi5n period.

of the dragon's mouth. Later, a contraption was developed for emitting sulphurous smoke from the dragon's mouth. Many scholars, including the progressive social scientist Yu Kil-chun (1856-1914), have referred to the turtle boat as the world's first armored warship. Japanese records from that period also include references to the turtle boats' armor. There is no absolute proof of this, however. Some 50 years ago, a historian claimed that the turtle boat was the world's first submarine, but it is clear that the turtle boats were not submarines. Notwithstanding, turtle boats became a legend among Korean people because they played such an important role in the defeat of the Japanese navy during the late 16th century. The turtle boats indeed constituted Korea's most important navy flotilla at that time. It is presumed that the turtle boat's

keel measured approximately 20 meters, with the boat itself having an overall length of some 35 meters. Each boat was manned by a crew of some 150 sailors, 100 of them oarsmen. The oarsmen were divided into teams of five. One man directed the team and the other four took turns rowing in pairs. In the heat of battle, all four oarsmen must have rowed, helping the boat to maneuver quickly between enemy vessels. At the time of the Japanese invasions, thefe were only three turtle boats. The Korean naval forces had more firepower than the Japanese and the turtle boat was much more maneuverable than the Japanese vessels. Since the Korean forces were familiar with the local climate and waters, they had a natural advantage over the Japanese in many ways. And while there were only three turtle boats, their intimidating appearance and sharp

spikes must have shaken the Japanese troops. Technically speaking, the turtle boats represented the advanced state of Chos6n-era shipbuilding techniques. From the military point of view, the ironclad roofs, spikes and superior firepower were the key to the success of the boats. There were cannons in the bow and stern as well as six on each side of the boat. These technical advantages played an important role in Ad!Iliral Yi's victory.

Icehouses S6kbinggo, a traditional icehouse in Ky6ngju, is famous throughout Korea. Most people assume that it dates back to the Shilla period because it is in Ky6ngju, the capital of that ancient kingdom, but it is actually from the late Chason period. The storage of ice for use in summer did begin during the Shilla period, however. According to 29

Sup'yogyo Bridge is named for the stone water marker installed in 1441 to measure water levels on Ch'ongyech'on, one of Seoul's major rivers.

The History of the Three Kingdoms, King Chijung ordered government officials to begin storing ice in November 505. The office responsible for the collection and storage of ice was called the Pinggojon, literally "ice storage office." The collection and storage of ice was an important undertaking, and as time passed, related know-how developed gradually and icehouses were built in other areas. By the Koryo period, ice sculptures were being used at parties and banquets. The History of Kory6 states that Ch'oe U, an influential Koryo statesman, held several large banquets in 1245 to mark Buddha's Birthday, which falls in early summer. Among the lavish decorations were four mountain-shaped ice sculptures adorned with silver and mother-of-pearl. During the Choson period, icehouses were built across the country. The remains of many have been discovered, but there is no record about how the technology developed or how the government regulated the use of ice. 30

Korea is blessed with many rivers, however, so it can be assumed that the practice of cutting ice from rivers in winter was quite common. In Seoul, ice for government consumption was stored at Tongbinggo, the Eastern Icehouse, and Sobinggo, the Western Icehouse. Ice from Tongbinggo, located near today's Oksu-dong, was used for ancestral rites because it came from the upper reaches of the Han River. Ice from the lower reaches was stored at Sobinggo, which was larger and located in today's Sobinggo-dong, and was used to refrigerate foods for the royal family and government officials. The use of ice by government officials was regulated according to rank during the summer months, and the ration for each rank varied over the course of the Chason period.

Rain and Water Gauges The rain and water gauges invented during the reign of King Sejong are the most outstanding examples of Korea's scientific developments related

to water. There is no evidence of other cultures having developed special devices to measure rainfalls and the flow of rivers and streams by the early 15th century. The Scientific Revolution that occurred in the West in the 17th century is notable for several reasons, one of which is the development of devices to measure natural phenomena. The desire to make measurements and analyze data came to form the basis of modern science and resulted in the development of thermometers, hygrometers, barometers and rain gauges. However, nearly two centuries earlier, in 1441, scientists of the Chason Dynasty invented a rain gauge that accurately measured rainfall. They also used a water gauge to measure the flow of rivers and streams. In terms of measurements, the Koreans were well ahead of their Western counterparts at this time. Why was King Sejong so interested in measuring rainfall and the flow of rivers? One reason was that an agrari-

an society depends on water. Agriculture was the most important industry in Korea at that time, and rainfall was naturally a matter or utmost concern. Korean farmers wanted to be able to measure rainfall, the level of water flowing through their rivers, and the severity of droughts. It was not simply because water was essential to agriculture, however. Rainfall and drought were important indicators of a monarch's ruling ability or virtue in a traditional society. In this regard, the rain gauge was a device to measure rainfall and to measure the effectiveness of a monarch's rule as well. King Sejong ordered the installation of rain gauges around the country and required local magistrates to report rainfall to the central government. Just 42 centimeters in height and 17 centimeters across, the cylinder-shaped rain gauges hardly look like an important invention, but Korean scientists developed this device some 200 years before one appeared in the West. The rain and water gauges are important symbols of King Sejong's scientific orientation. The Chinese claim that the water gauge is their invention. All Chinese science books claim that Chinese scientists were the first to invent the rain gauge and then the technology later spread to other countries. They assume that the first rain gauge must be Chinese because the oldest extant rain gauge in Korea has a Chinese ideograph inscription indicating the year in which it was invented-1770-using the Chinese appellation for the era. These Chinese scholars do not realize that the Chos6n Dynasty used the Chinese era markers for centuries. While it can never be known for sure why King Sejong was so interested in measuring rainfall, the rain gauge teaches an important historical lesson: The Korean people's keen interest in water helped fuel scientific discovery in the 15th century. +

The rain and water gauges invented during the reign of King Sejong are the most outstanding examples of Korea s scientific developments related to water. There is no evidence of other cultures having developed special devices to measure rainfalls and the flow of rivers and streams by the early 15th century.

The rain gauge was used to measure rainfall and the effectiveness of a monarch's rule.

ater in Korean Folk Religion Im Chae-hae Professor of Folk Studies Andong University

ancient times, water was thus characterized as essential for human life fordrinking and farming. Water plays an even more conspicuous role in the Genesis Myth. It is the fundamental agent that brought order to the universe after the emergence of heaven and earth from chaos. According to the Genesis Myth, "Before the Beginning, heaven and earth were crowded together in the darkness of chaos. As heaven and earth parted gradually, dewdrops descended from heaven and sprouted from the earth and with a yin-yang interaction initiated the creation ~ of the universe." This myth credits the ~ Creation not to the work of the Creator, e: but to the result of a watery interaction. In Korean mythology, water is a leading agent of creation as well as an essential element, together with fire, for forging civilization and a basic feature necessary for statecraft In Korean mythology, heroines almost always emerge from wells, rivers or the sea, whe;eas heroes always descend from heaven or the summit of a mountain. In the story of Chumong, the founder of the Koguryo Kingdom (37 B.C-AD. 668), his mother, Lady Yuhwa, is the daughter of Habaek, the god of the river, and comes to the world out of a pond called Ungshi-myon. Lady Aryong, the queen of Pak Hyokkose, the founder of the Shilla Kingdom (57 B.C.-AD. 935), enters the world through the AryongjOng Well, and Yongnyo, who

n the Korean mind, water is laden with mythological primitivism and symbolism. The Creation Myth, one of Korea's oldest myths, deals with the origin of water and fire. In the Tan-gun Myth, the oldest of the foundation myths, Tan-gun's father, Hwanung, descends from heaven to earth under the Shindansu, a sacred tree on Mt. T'aebaeksan, accompanied by the god of rain. Whereas the Creation Myth presents water as a necessity for drinking and cooking, the Foundation Myth presents it as an agricultural necessity. From

Koreans have long believed in the curative qualities of mineral water. The water of Naengch'on Mineral Spring in Imshilgun, Chollabuk-do, is no exception. 32

helped found the Koryo Dynasty (9181392), is the daughter of Yong-wang, the dragon king of the West Sea. The emergence from water of the founder-kings' mothers and queens is indicative of the ancient belief in the generative powers of water. As the fecundity was believed to influence the prosperity of the nation, they were portrayed in myths as the embodiment of

TheSaem Kut rite honors the spirit believed to reside in the well.

the procreative life force of water. These ladies of the waters bring to mind Mulhalmi (Water Grandma), the goddess of water. Koreans have long believed in the health benefits of the mineral water that springs from deep mountains or between rocks and is called yaksu, literally "medicine water." In some parts of Korea, this belief has developed into what can only be called a

cult- the "yaksu cult'' The object of the cult's veneration is the deity of the spring, the goddess of water. Commonly known as Mulhalmi, the goddess is believed to be the prototype of the queens and queen mothers of the water. Until recently, it was not uncommon to see people praying by candlelight beside a spring or at small shrines and altars dedicated to the goddess of water. In 33

plants to grow.

addition to being a driving force for the creation of the universe, a guarantor for human life by filling its drinking and agricultural needs and a symbol of national prosperity and fertility, water is now an object of worship as the fountain of life.

People coulcl not live if wells

Cleansing and Exorcising Functions

dried up and rain ceased to fall.

Mythological recognition of water is clearly exemplified in folk beliefs and rites. Water plays an important role in the shaman rituals Ssitkim kut and Puj6ng kut The Ssitkim kut is a rite to cleanse the spirit of a dead person of sins committed in this life so as to help his or her spirit proceed to the other world. The highlight of this kut, which was practiced until recently on Chindo Island, is the shaman's cleansing of an effigy of the dead thoroughly with water. During the cleansing, the effigy is brushed from the head downward with a broom dipped in mugwort water, then incense water and finally clear water from a valley. The act is symbolic of cleansing the spirit of the dead rather than literally cleaning the corpse, which is not present at the scene from the beginning. The body of the effigy is made from the dead person's clothes rolled up in a rush mat. A bowl filled with spirit money, which is a long strip of mulberry paper, is placed on top of the propped-up "body" as its head which is topped with the lid of a cauldron to serve as a broadrimmed hat. In the Ssitkim kut, water rinses away the stains of the spirit as well as the body. It is believed that once the spiritual filth and unrequited sorrows of this world are washed away, the spirit of the dead person will be able to journey safely to the other world. Pujong kut, also known as Puj6ng k6ri, is a ritual performed at the beginning of every shaman kut to cleanse the site and transform it into a sacred place. The shaman prepares a bowl of pure water before starting the Pujong kori. Sometimes the shaman puts a piece of charcoal and red peppers in the water, the former to symbolically purify the

Much as the water springing from the earth sustains

human life by providing drinking water, rain allows

This is why a well is deified and venerated v.ith a kut for abundant water and why rivers and seas are prayed to for rain.

Traditionally springs were thought to be ruled by femalespiritsandmany wells still bear signs of this belief.

water and the latter to ward off evil spirits. The shaman sings and dances and with the bowl or a gourd of water in her hand, sprinkles the site. Sometimes the shaman expels evil spirits by wielding a torch of rice stalks over the site. By burning evil spirits and washing away the impurities of mundane life, the shaman sanctifies the site. The all-cleansing water serves as a . magical vehicle in that it cleanses the spirit of the dead and the ritual site. Officiants of a village tutelary rite are also required to bathe to cleanse their bodies and minds. In fac~ bathing is one of the most strictly observed prerequisites for both the shaman and officiants. For a certain period before the rite, the officiants should take a bath every morning and night and also after going to the toilet. Although in some areas the full bathing requirement h;:ts been reduced to the washing of hands and face, the belief that an officiant's body should be purified remains strong. The cleansing of the body is also integral to various rituals stemming from Confucian tradition. . For the ancestral rites on Solnal (New Year's Day), Ch'us6k (Harvest Moon) and memorial days, officiants of all ranks wash their hands with water in a basin next to the offering table and dry them with a special handcloth before they dedicate libations to the ancestral spirits. By the same token, participants in a coming-ofage ceremony should wash their hands at the command of the master of ceremonies. This type of cleansing symbolizes that the rite is being - ~eld with wholehearted sincerity. Cleansing as a display of sincerity is very strictly observed in village rites. Community rites and kut for village tutelary deities are often held in the middle of winter about the time of the First Full Moon when springs and rivers are frozen solid. Breaking the ice to take a bath in the icy water is no easy task, but the people selected to be officiants must do so. The bathing cannot be a cursory gesture; it must be a complete bath done while naked in the middle of the night at

In the Ttaebae Kut of Wido Island, villagers dispel impurities and evil on small boats.

a designated spot Sometimes the wife of an officiant is required to bathe also as are others who want to participate in the rite at the sanctified place, for no one is allowed to enter the ritual site without being cleansed. By the same token, foods for the offering table should also be purified. Therefore, a well is designated and protected in advance for drawing water needed to make the food offerings. The well is cleaned about three days before the First Full Moon and closed to the public with a taboo rope. Only the persons responsible for preparing the food offerings can use the well and then only for water to brew liquor, make rice cakes, and clean and cook the various foods. In this way, the foods become purified. The well is returned to public use the day after the village rite, but all the villagers must first eat the food offerings and dedicate a resounding kut to the well with songs and dances before removing the taboo rope.

Chonghwasu, water taken from a well

at dawn, is thought to have special powers when used in prayers to the heavenly spirits or in medicinal potions. As a memorial offering to ancestors or disgruntled spirits, a bowl of ch6nghwasu is accompanied by a bowl of uncooked rice.

Offering to Gods and Sacred Symbol Sometimes water itself is used as an offering. Chonghwasu (essence of the well), the first water drawn from the well in early morning, is dedicated to Chowang, the kitchen god, or Ch'ilsongshin, the Seven Star Spirit. Early every morning, a good housewife fills a bowl with the first-drawn water and offers it to the gods along with prayers for her family. Chowang is believed to protect the family from disease, make food taste better and prevent a house from catching fire. Some people believe that Chowang prevents accidents and guarantees a long life. The tangible symbol of Chowang is the bowl of water, which women keep at the center of the kitchen range. In the belief that Chowang is especially benevolent to the first person to make a water offering in the morning, village women compete to be the first to draw water from the community well The competition becomes quite intense the morning 35

-<,

Water is essential to traditional folk rites for its cleansing qualities. Before any rite the ritual officials purify themselves with a ritual cleansing: an official in the Chongmyo royal ancestral rites washes his hands (top); a shaman prepares for a rite (middle); and ritual officials in UnsansPyolshinje rite wash in the river before the rite begins (above). 36

after the community rite held on the First Full Moon, with some women staying up through the night to wait for the officiants to return from the rite, because it is commonly believed that the family of the first person to draw water from the well will have a bumper harvest in the coming year. Ch'ilsong-shin, the Seven Star Spirit, whose embodiment is the Big Dipper, controls the life span of humans and is generally venerated at a small stone altar in the kitchen garden or on the changdoktae, "sauce jar terrace." Ch'ilsong-shin is popular among women because it is also believed to govern both the birth of children and longevity. The kitchen garden with the Ch'ilsong altar is usually to the north of the house where it is easy to see the Big Dipper. Whereas Chowang is worshipped at dawn, Ch'ilsong-shin is venerated late in the evening w:hen the constellation appears. After dinner, a woman combs her hair and composes herself before she dedicates a bowl of clean water at the altar and makes supplications. The prayers of young women for a baby and the prayers of mothers who are seeking blessings for their children are transmitted to the Seven Star Spirit through the bowl of water. Chonghwasu water is the purest offering and the easiest to prepare on a daily basis. Water is also on hand for critica( urgent situations such as childbirth, at which time a bowl of water is offered to Samshin, the goddess of childbirth, for a safe delivery. Any other offering would be untenable because of the urgency of the situation. When childbirth is over and the miy6kkuk, a seaweed soup women are traditionally fed after childbirth, is made, a bowl of rice and soup is offered to Samshin in gratitude for a safe delivery. The chOnghwasu water is thus the humblest and the most common offering. Chonghwasu is used in many rites. When a baby is ill, Samshin is invoked with a bowl of water. When a misfortune befalls a family because some earthmoving work was done improperly or a

household item was moved to an inauspicious place, a water bowl is placed on the spot in question, and prayers are offered to cancel the misfort1:1ne. The water bowl also makes its way to the altar of the village rite. The officiants go to the Sanshin (Mountain Spirit) Shrine, draw three bowls of water from the sacred well, and take a bath before cooking the rice and offerings for the rite. Shamans also dedicate a bowl of water at the altars set up in their houses. The first thing a shaman does in the morning is to greet her own guardian spirit with a bowl of chonghwasu. As she presents the water, she prays to the guardian spirit to bestow on her magical powers and help her perform the kut She does this every day. When a village well is deified and becomes the object of a kut, water is more than an offering-it is a deity that deserves veneration. During the Three Kingdoms period (1st century B.C.-A.D. 7th century), big mountains, rivers and the seas, the home of the dragon king, were honored with rites organized by the royal court. In farming areas; a stream flowing toward a village was venerated with a kut called Sugu magi (Blocking the Watergate), while fishermen held a rite to honor Yongwang, the dragon king. These rites were held annually in addition to the village rite held on the First Full Moon. However, there were also rites held at special times such as during a drought Because dragons were believed to be responsible for rain, rites were held to pray for rain at a deep pond, river or by the sea where a dragon was thought to live, and sometimes the king himself led the rite. Much as the water springing from the earth sustains human life by providing drinking water, rain allows plants to grow. People could not live if wells dried up and rain ceased to fall This is why a well is deified and venerated with a kut for abundant water and why rivers and seas are prayed to for rain. Water has fettility in itself. The water in natural springs and community wells never dries up or diminishes despite

everyday use, always returning to a certain level Water has the ability not only to sustain all living creatures including humans but to generate and procreate. Like the moon, which with its eternal cycle of waxing and waning is regarded as a symbol of procreation, water is regarded as a symbol of procreation because of its self-generating ability and power to cleanse impurities and revive creatures on the verge of death.

Water Rites for Fertility Water was the driving force for the creation of the universe and is now the sustainer of human life. It is thus sometimes personified as Mulhalmi and as a dragon living in deep waters at other times. The dragon is the god of waters and seas, responsible for rain, and thus the object of veneration in rain-supplicating rites. It is also the god of farming who decides the success of a harvest. Whether it is understood as a fisherman's sea god or a farmer's god of the harves~ the dragon is venerated for its ability to secure a bumper harves~ both from the sea and from the land. A kut for Yongwang is always included in community rites in fishing villages. In farming areas, a kut called Yongwang mogigi (Feeding the Dragon King) is held in summer. Farmers make simple food offerings on the ridges of paddies and pray for a bumper harvest on Ch'obok, the first of the three hottest days of summer. This rite to offer food to the dragon king overseeing the harvest is sometimes called Y ongje (Dragon Rite). In Kyongsangbuk -do province, Yongje begins witl) a farmer propping up a pine branch in the middle of his paddies on Ch'obok. Once propped up, the branch is called yongshindae (dragon god's pole). Farmers heap rice cakes and money on top of the yongshindae and pray for their rice plants to bear plentiful grain and ripen well and fast Yongje is also held in dry fields but the food offerings ~: include noodles, not rice cakes, because the rite is to pray for the watermelon, melon, cucumber and pumpkin

vines to grow as long as noodles. Yongwangje is held with much greater variety in fishing villages. According to the Tongkyong chapki (Eastern Capital Miscellany) of the 17th century, people wrapped cooked rice in paper and threw it into their wells on the First Full Moon as part of Yongwangje. Until recently, fishermen in Ch'ungchOngbuk-do province held Yongwangje on their boats or ferries and women held Yongwangje by a stream, or a well For a Yongwangje by the well inside a residential compound, the well is cleaned the day before the First Full Moon. The housewife takes a bath in the middle of the nigh~ places a candle and a bowl of chonghwasu on a small table, and makes deep bows while praying for the well-being and good fortune of her family. The chOnghwasu is sometimes supplemented with cooked rice and seaweed soup. If there is no well in a woman's house, she will hold the rite at the village well. Wells and rivers are believed to be the home of the farming god who guarantees abundance. When it is identified as Mulhalmi, the medicinal water yaksu is revered because it has the life force and symbolizes abundance. The name yaksu signifies the water's reputed healing powers. If the dragon king is venerated beside a yaksu spring, the water is seen as the embodiment of Yongwang, the water god. In some places, on the night of the First Full Moon, the reflection of the moon on water is said to be a dragon's egg and it is believed that a barren woman will conceive if she drinks the water. Women thus go to the well early in the morning of the First Full Moon to "scoop up the dragon egg:' This is reminiscent of the legend about the birth of Pomil, the hero of the Kangnung Tano Kut Festival, who was conceived when his virgin mother drank up the sun that was floating on the water. According to the legend, the child possessed extraordinary talents from birth, and grew up to do great things to defend his country. He became the mountain spirit of Taegwallyong after his death. In this 37

story and other similar ones, water works together with the moon and the sun to create life.

The Magic of Rainmaking Rites Water plays a critical role in the sprouting and growing of seeds and in human childbearing. Water plays the role of the male semen in the myths in which virgins are impregnated by spring water. A shaman myth of Chejudo Island tells of a thirsty goddess who drank water pooled in the footsteps of a pig on Mt. Hallasan and became pregnant Water is not only life-giving but also life-restoring. For a person dying of thirst, water is the fountain of life. Water also restores crops after a drought. The concept of medicinal water having the power to heal is stretched to the extent that it can revive the dead in some legends. Whereas the potency of medicinal water is so widely accepted that women pray to it to be blessed with children, nobody believes it will revive a dead person. The water of life that revives the dead is a different thing. Although medicinal water is ubiquitous in deep valleys, the water of life is not found in this world for it belongs to the other world. The myth of Princess Pari (pari is a

vernacular form of porin, "abandoned") which is sung during the Ogu kut, a shaman rite to guide the spirit of the dead to the other world, is about an abandoned daughter who searches for the water of life to revive her dead parents: Once upon a time, there was a king whose queen gave birth to daughter after daughter. The king's patience snapped when the queen delivered their seventh daughter, and he ordered his men to discard the baby. The men left the baby by a desolate riverside, but she did not die because birds and animals protected her until a childless old couple found her and raised her as their child. Years later, the king and queen fell ill and died. The daughter they fiad abandoned came home at that moment and, after much difficulty, brought the water of life from the other world. She returned to this world just as the catafalque bearing her parents' bodies was leaving the palace. She dripped the water of life between her parents' lips and they came back to life. Princess Pari later became a shaman goddess. This tale is chanted during the Ogu kut in the hope that the dead will be revived in the other world. Prayers express the hope that the deceased be

allowed to forget the sufferings of this life and enjoy a new, spiritual life in the other world. The belief in the water of life is related with geomancy. Called p'ungsu, "wind and water," in Korean, geomancy is a divination method used to select a site that is safe from wind and has abundant water. Water sought through geomancy is not limited to rivers, streams and oceans, but also includes that which flows deep underground. Many people believe that the site of a house or a grave should be selected by giving careful consideration to the flow of water both over and under the ground if the family of the deceased is to prosper and have good descendants. Water affects not only the living but also the dead buried in the ground and, as such, controls the luck of the descendants of the dead. Critical to the survival of all living creatures and believed to have the ability to revive the dead, water is an object of diverse rites. There is the Saem kut (spring rite) to supplicate for a spring to be bountiful in water and rites to pray for rain held during a drought. In an agricultural society, Kiuje, the rite to supplicate for rain, is a serious affair because the sprouting and growing of everything depends on rain, the result

Prior to the village rite held in Ch'ungch'ongnam-do's Unsan, villagers hang a kiimjul, or "forbidding rope," over the local stream to prevent impurities from affecting the rite. 38

~Âˇ I

of the interaction of heaven and earth. Since the supplication for rain is not for the benefit of a particular individual but for the prosperity of the whole community, the Kiuje is a public event. In fact, prayers for adequate rain and wind are included in all community rites, not just the Kiuje. Because the well-being of an agricultural community depends on the right amount of rain, the head of the village, or in some cases the king acting on behalf of the whole country, participated in the rite as an officiant in times of severe drought. Legends about Kiuje abound. An official burned his arm as a sacrifice when rain did not fall even after a Kiuje rite, and a king was about to throw himself into a fire when rain began to fall The reason the government officials and kings willingly risked their lives for rain was because the extent of rain was indicative of their ability to rule. The rite for rain was often held by a spring that never dried up in drought, an idea inspired by sympathetic magic. Other examples of sympathetic magic are simulations of rainfall by having women climb up a mountain and urinate together at the summit or wear rain hats and spray water over them. Not all rites for rain relied on sympathetic magic, however. For example, in

Water is an important incantatory tool in folk rituals, driving away the impure and corrupt. A model boat carries evil and impurities to the sea off Wido Island (above). Chejudo Island's Yongdiing Kut (below) honors the Dragon King who rules the seas in hopes of procuring a bountiful catch. Islanders create a path for the Dragon King to travel upon by spreading a white cloth between the sea and the ritual site.

some cases, a dog was killed and its blood sprinkled over a sacred altar in the hope that the god would send rain . to wash away the repulsive stains. A pond where a dragon was thought to live might be drained or a hill or rock where a dragon lived might be set on fire to threaten the dragon into making it rain to save its life. This type of rainmaking rite is based on the belief that the dragon is responsible for rainfall, and the tradition is very much alive today. The diversity of the rainmaking rites and the fact that the kings of ancient states were rainmakers or officiants of rainmaking rites are indicative of the extent to which water was valued in human life from the mythological age. Folk beliefs in medicinal water, water of life and geomancy are graphic examples of the deep reverence people had for water. When water was revered as a cleansing and healing medium and the sacred sustainer of life, water pollution was not a source of concern. However, if one discredits the life-restoring ability of water and disregards it as nothing but HzO, water will become not only polluted but a life-threatening poison. Perhaps, it is time to revive the tradition of worshipping water. +

ON THE ROAD

and Ky6ngsangnam-do provinces to empty into the South Sea at Kwangyang Bay. It is the ninth longest river in Korea, stretching 212 kilometers through some of the country's most picturesque scenery. Rivers are important in every country, but in Korea, where

the land area is relatively small and mountains plentiful, rivers have always been a powerful presence. The S6mjin-gang is no exception. It starts out at Mt. P'algongsan in Chinan where the eastern slopes of the Noryangsanmaek mountain range meet the western slopes of the Sobaek-sanmaek range For centuries, the children of this area have used the mountains and the river as their playground. When life in the city is ov~rbeaing, adults reminisce

about the carefree days spent beside the river. The river is an eternal source of abundance, life and wisdom. Many people who live along a river come to take on an aspect of its character. There is a distinct difference in character between people who grow up along the upper reaches of a river where the water runs smooth and quiet and those who live at its mouth where the river meets the crashing sea. Their ways of thinking and their

responses to life differ. The same can be said of the residents of Seoul. The outlook of people living south of the Han-gang River, who must cross the river every day to go to work, is quite different from that of Seoulites who live and work north of the river. So it is with people living in mountainous regions. People who live among rugged mountains take on that ruggedness, whereas those living near rolling hills are much more easygoing.

Rivers fJie important in every country, but in Korea, where the land area is small and mountains plentiful, rivers have a powerful presence.

ARiver Molding Lives At its source the S6mjin-gang is gentle. It approaches the village of Chinan quietly, twisting in and out of the mountains like a sheep's intestines, to use an old Korean expression, and when it gets lazy, it relaxes at a small village, whose inhabitants come to its banks for water for themselves and their livestock, then it continues on. The poet Kim Yong-t'aek has published a volume of poems titled SOmjin-gang.

In the first poem of the collection Kim depicts the river's spirit

c':

Calling forth the water flowing toward the y ongsan-gang clasping it in a bone-crunching embrace, then wrapping the stout waist of Mt Chirisan. SOmjin-gang! Follow it! Who says it can be leveled, can be drained by a few miserable men? Chirisan washes its face in its darkening waters, stands and laughs. Look to Mt Mudungsan and ask if it's true. Bathed in the twilight glow, the mountain nods its white forehead. With an eye on Mudungsan, follow the darkening Somjin-gang. Who says a few lousy bastards could dig this river dry?

-<;

The SOmjin-gang widens to become a true river as it approaches Kurye-gun in northern Chollanam-do province, providing magnificent scenery in the foothills of Mt. Chirisan (right). Some fishing is stm done on the river (top and center), and the surrounding farmland is fertile (above). 42

The S6mjin-gang becomes a river in the true sense of the word at Imshil in southern Chollabuk-do.. Here several tributaries from nearby mountain ravines flow into Okch6ngho Lake, a reservoir formed by the construction of the S6mjin Dam in 1%5. The lake covers nearly one-seventh of Imshil-gun county, and the combination of fertile mountain soil and water has produced some of the finest farmland in Korea. The clear water is the perfect environment for pond smelt, which only thrive in the cleanest of waters. Below the dam the river flows to Namw6n, where it passes by Kwanghallu, the pavilion where the legendary Ch'unhyang is said to have met her lover. The tributary passing Kwanghallu is called Yoch'on. It flows to the southwest, through the hills of northeastern Changsu-gun. Across Yoch 'on-gyo Bridge is a small pavilion called Kumsujong, the site of Namwon's National Music Academy, a center for

the study of p'ansori (a narrative, solo epic folk opera). On quiet summer evenings the poignant sound of p'ansori often resonates across the river. The SOmjin-gang then heads toward the hilly county of Koksong-gun. Nearly three-quarters of the county is mountainous, but the mountains are rolling and gentle. The river winds through them quietly, quenching the land of Sunch'ang-gun before it arrives in Kurye-gun. Most of Koksong's farmland is along the banks of the SOmjingang, and the scent of chestnut blossoms fills the surrounding ravines. Koksong's roads are good and it is

easy to reach Kwangju, Namwon, Kurye and Sunch'on. However, lifestyles there have been relatively free of the influences of modern civilization. One still finds earthen walls, and older villagers often carry bundles on their head or on A-frame carriers on their backs. Here the river serves as the boundary between Chollabuk-do and ChOllanam-do. Yoch'on, the tributary which passes through Namwon, joins the Somjin-gang and flows as far as Koksong's Tongsan-ri Koksong is famous for its sweet fish, which, like pond smelt, only breed in clean water. The people of Koksong

say that the Somjin-gang is not really a river until it reaches their county. That is because the river has no sweet fish above Koksong. Sweet fish are extremely sensitive: they only live in the cleanest water and die as soon as they are pulled from the river. In March, after wintering in the ocean, the fish return to the upper reaches of the river to spawn. They form schools, and one school of fish never allows another to encroach on its territory. Anglers generally catch the fish in the spring when the willow trees bloom. The "willow" sweet fish are considered to be most delicious.

The river passes through Kurye next, meeting several smaller tributaries on its way. The river is wide here. Perhaps this is what prompted Chosonera geographer Yi Chung-hwan (16901752) to note: "People say land is rich when you sow one measure, of rice seed and reap sixty measures of rice. But in Kurye and nearby Namwon or Songju and Chinju in the Kyongsang-do region, sow one measure of seed and you reap one hundred forty measures of rice." The river is clear here and abounds with sweet fish and horseshoe crabs which attract many visiting bon

Sweet fish are a delicacy exclusive to the clean waters of the upper SOmjinÂˇ gang (above). From lower left: Puril Waterfall near Ssanggyesa Temple; a stream flowing from Mt Chirisan into the Somjin-gang; Silgyech'on, a tributary at the source of the SOmjingang in Chin-an gun, Chollabuk-do province.

vivants. The people of Kurye are proud of the indigenous medicinal herbs and teas that flourish near the river. The herbs and tea from this region are still considered the best in Korea. The region's honey is also famous. According to Yi Chung-hwan, Kumanch'on Village in southern Kurye was a desirable place to live because one could row down the river and get salt and fish. The river was studded with large boulders along one stretch in Koksong, obstructing river transportation, but it was navigable for 40 kilometers from Kurye to its mouth.

Hwagae Market

Many people who Jive along a river come to take on an aspect of its character. There is a distinct difference in character between people who grow up along the upper reaches of a river where the water runs smooth and quiet and those who live -at its mouth where the river meets the crashing sea. Their ways of thinking and their responses to life differ. People from the Cholla-do and Kyongsang-do regions meet and mingle at Hwagae Market (above). The Somjin-gang joins the sea at Kwangyang Bay along the southern coast (below).

Kurye is best known for Hwaomsa Temple. The temple, which was founded in 544, destroyed by fire during the Japanese invasions of the late 16th century and restored in 1630, stands on the slopes of Mt. Chirisan, six kilometers from the town of Kurye. It is home to many treasures of Korea's Buddhist tradition, and one can hear the magical sounds of the temple drum and bell echoing through the mountain air at sunset. As dusk settles over the temple grounds, the gentle bubbling of a nearby stream and hushed bird songs fill the valley, erasing all thoughts of the outside world. The Somjin-gang flows to Hadong from Kurye. The scenery between Kurye and Hwagae is especially beautiful. The stretch from Hwagae to Hadong, the mouth of the riyer, has long been known for its magnificent scenery, but Hwagae is also known for its traditional five-day market. In his short story "The Post Horse Curse," the novelist Kim Tong-ni describes the market and the surrounding countryside: Three rivers meet at Hwagae, flowing alongside the roads. One

comes from the direction of Kurye in ChOlla province and another flows down from Hwagae Valley in Kyongsang province. H~re they form the mainstream of the Somjingang, which, reflecting green mountains and dark old trees, moves quietly as a lake while meandering farther and farther south to mark the boundary between Kyongsang and ChOlla. Lying at an intersection of the roads to Hadong, Kurye and Ssanggyesa Temple, Hwagae bustled even when the market itself was closed. Of all the many roads into the Chiri Mountains, the best known went by way of Hwagae and up five-kilometer Hwagae Valley, which held both Ssanggyesa Temple and its Sei Rock There were several other such spots along the Kyongsang-ChOlla border, but it was Hwagae Market of which people spoke. On market days, the wild carrots, bellflower roots, aralia shoots, and bracken fern of slashand-burn farmers in the Chiri Mountains were brought down through Hwagae Valley; thread, needles, hand mirrors, scissors, belts,

purse strings, tweezers and face powder of the ChOlla sundries peddlers came over the road from Kurye; and fishmongers of the lower Somjin brought laver, dried green and red seaweed, pollack, salted yellow corvina, and salted mackerel up along the Hadong road. <Translated by Marshall R. Pihl, in Land of Exile, ed. Marshall R. Fihl and

Bruce andju.Chan Fulton (Armonk, New York: ME. Sharpe, 1993), p. 16>

The river's dual character-at once dividing and binding-is best revealed in the market at Hwagae which links the peoples of the ChOlla-do and Kyongsang-do regions. Hwagae also is a transportation center for the mountain dwellers of Hadong-gun. Nevertheless, if it were not for Ssanggyesa Temple five kilometers to the north, Hwagae would not enjoy its present renown. Built in 840, the temple is buried deep in the ravines of Mt. Chirisan, its air fresh and waters quiet and clean. Nearby is Puril Waterfall which falls from a height of 60 meters. From Hwagae, the Somjin-gang heads

to the town of Hadong, which was the site of Korea's fifth largest market until the last years of the Choson Dynasty (1392-1910). In fact, Hadong's port was crowded with small boats transporting goods on market day as late as 1945. From the ocean came fish and seaweed, from the mountains medicinal herbs and wild greens, from the towns manufactured goods. They all gathered at Hadong on market day, then dispersed once more. However, in the years since, the lower reaches of the river have become clogged with sand and silt. Boats can no longer ply the river, and Korea's inland transportation has improved dramatically, thus reducing Hadong to just another town and the river to a shadow of its former self. Today, one only sees an occasional oar-driven ferry crossing between Hadong in Kyongsangnam-do and Kwangyang in ChOllanam-do. Still, Hadong is famous for its huge bamboo groves and chestnut trees, which account for 40 percent of Korea's chestnut crop. After wandering through the hills and valleys of southern Korea for 212 kilometers, the Somjin-gang flows into the sea; it is a beautiful river passing through a historic section of Korea. +

KOREAN ARTISTS ABROAD

Woo K yu-sung The Aesthetics of Restraint Kang Hong-bin Professor of Urban Planning Seoul Municipal University

eople say there are no child prodigies in architecture as it takes a certain time to become a fine architect They mean it takes time to become familiar with the techniques, systems, management and organizational oversight needed to build a proper house and to develop a deep understanding of the way people live. A society, too, needs to achieve a cer-

tain maturity before it can create great architecture. A solid social foundation is necessary for a highly developed architectural culture. In addition, economic strength is essential, of course, as are a sufficient level of technological development and a mature cultural capability based on social stability. Architecture is an art, unlike construction technology, and -therefore it is not easily transplanted. It is a society-based art which flourishes in the "soil" of a civilization's accomplishments. Modern Korea, a young and dynamic society, has not yet developed a mature architectural culture. Thanks to the miraculous economic growth achieved over the last 50 years, Korea has been transformed from a traditional agrarian society to an industrial nation of cities. Tens of thousands of buildings have been built in the process, but this has not led directly to the birth of a mature architectural culture. The breadth of change has been too great and its pace too rapid for that. Korea's traditional lifestyle has been totally uprooted, and its indigenous architectural tradition has

lost its social foundation in the turbulent wave of modernization. A new architectural culture is still in the process of formation. In the meantime, Korea has produced several outstanding architects including Kim Soo-geun and Kim Chung-op, but their activities and influence were limited to Korea because of architecture's natural linkage with social conditions. Woo Kyu-sung, a Korean-born architect working in the United States, is a notable exception to this tendency. He grew up in Korea, where he began his architectural career, but later established himself in the United States and achieved success on the international stage. Woo's amazing list of awards is evidence of his prominent status in the American architectural community. In 1973, he was awarded the top prize in the design competition for Pittsburgh's Manchester Street Park. Two years later he shared top honors in the design competition sponsored by New York City for a residential area on Roosevelt Island. The other winner was Robert Stern, a leader in postmodern architec-

Architecture is an art, unlike construction technology, and therefore it is not easily transplanted It is a society-based art which flourishes in the ''soil" of a civilization's accom plishm ents.

The Whanki Museum in Seoul 48

?\ ture.

In 1981, Woo received the Outstanding Architect Award from ~ Progressive Architecture, a prestigious g) architectural journal, and in 1984 the 8 United States Presidential Award for the design of public buildings. For three years in a row, from 1991 to 1994, he won the Outstanding Architect Award from the Boston and New England Association of Architects. His "simple yet elegant" creations have been featured extensively in major international architectural magazines, and his lectures on planning and design at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology's College of Architecture in the late 1970s were always filled to capacity with students. Woo is one of the few Korean architects active on the world stage. It is meaningless to ask if Woo is a Korean architect or an American architect. He is neither, and, at the same time, both. As one critic pointed out in Progressive Architecture, Woo appears to maintain a ,;critical distance" from both Korea and the United States. And yet he has made a significant contribution to both societies through his work

SomefWKyu-sng~wrk(

top): Jordan Pond House in Acadia National Park, faculty housing at Harvard University, Kim Tschangyeul~

residence in Seoul, and the Woo

House in Cambridge.

Bright Prospects Woo was born during the Second World War when Korea was still under Japanese colonial rule and grew up amidst the artillery fire of the Korean War. He attended college during a turbulent period of Korean history which included the April 19, 1960, student uprising and the May 16, 1961, coup d'etat Korea was still mired in poverty when he went to the United States to study in 1968. During these difficult times, Woo cultivated his own future. Although he was a talented painter in secondary school, he entered the medical school at the prestigious Seoul National University in search of a secure future. Before long, however, he shocked those around him by quitting medical school and transferring to the department of architecture. He soon distinguished himself and became an assistant at an

architectural office run by Seoul National alumni. Woo later was exposed to advanced architecture while working with Oswald Nagler, an American architect dispatched to the Institute of Housing, Urban and Regional Planning under the Korean Ministry of Construction, who had studied under the renowned Spanish architect Jose Luis Sert. Woo decided to go to the United States to study when Nagler left Korea. Since then, the two have remained close friends with a deep mutual respect for each other. Woo spent his first year in the United States in New York. While studying architecture at Columbia University, he met pianist Kim Chung-ja who later became his wife and Kim Whanki for whom he would later design a commemorative museum. After graduation from Columbia, Woo began work on his master's degree in urban planning at Harvard. Jose Luis Sert, from whom Woo had hoped to learn, left Harvard shortly thereafter, but Woo went to work at Sert's architectural office upon his -graduation from Harvard. During the five-year period in which he worked with Sert, Woo participated in numerous projects including the Miro Art Museum in Spain. Woo then left Sert's office to join an innovative urban planning team working for the city of New York. Unfortunately, it was not long before the city's financial difficulties threatened the team's prospects. MIT officials had kept a close eye on Woo's career, however, and invited him to tak ~ a position there teaching architecture. He returned to Cambridge and continued to work as an architect while he taught. In 1979, he gave in to his desire to concentrate on his creative work and resigned from teaching to set up his own office.

Restraint and Self-Possession Woo Kyu-sung is an architect of restraint. He has not designed many buildings, but he insists on adding his personal touch to even the smallest details of every building he designs. His

office in Cambridge is small enough to be called a studio. From the standpoint of size or quantity, his career does not amount to all that much. His list of works includes Filler House in Columbia, South Carolina; Port Adams Kindergarten (1985) in Newport, Rhode Island; Observatory Hill Commons (1990) for faculty housing at Harvard University; the Woo House (1993) in Cambridge; Jordan Pond House in Acadia National Park (1994); and the Whanki Museum (1992) and Kim Tschang-yeul's residence in Seoul (1988). On a larger scale, there are the Olympic Athlete and Press Villages built for the 1988 Seoul Olympics and several residential complexes and urban development projects in the United States and Korea. Woo is an architect of few words. He avoids talking about his work He does not actively participate in discussions on architectural theory which fill the pages of architectural journals. During his years teaching at MIT, he remained aloof from the debate over ~

postmodernism. As he himself admitted, while he "perceives" architectural trends, he refuses to be swept up by "isms." He does not have any interest in the conceptual games enjoyed by some critics and architects. He does not try to sell "Oriental" qualities to the American architectural community nor does he attempt to introduce the "latest" in Western architecture to Koreans. He simply wants to express himself through his works. Notwithstanding his lack of words, Woo is a very logical architect. He thoroughly analyzes each situation and engages in a process of systematic preparation. He refuses to fix Âˇforms and images in advance. His designs always evolve from a specific circumstance. He searches for the hidden seed of architecture after thoroughly studying the overall program, the proposed building's raison d'etre, the topographical conditions of the site, and the building's relationship with the surrounding environment. Like an experienced gardener, he nurtures the seed and allows

the significance and order hidden within the seed to flower. He believes the answers to all questions lie in the questions themselves. How will the whole relate to the parts? How will each element relate to each other? It is his job to find the answers to these questions and create a place where they can be experienced. For Woo, design is not a process of creating something out of nothing. It is a process of investigation and discovery, a search, a process of development and presentation. This is where his temperance and modesty are revealed. This is why clarity and immaculateness are qualities of all his work Woo Kyu-sung does not want labels attached to his designs. The circumstances of each project are different, and Woo wants to start anew with each circumstance. There is, however, a.clearly consistent "color" to his architectural world. It comes from his consistent concept of architecture. The phrase "aesthetics of restraint" helps define this "color." There are no dazzling visual

Olympic Village in Seoul 51

effects or provocative configurations in Woo's buildings. Exaggeration, recklessness or highhandedness are absent from his work. Instead, a quiet inner order is portrayed in his buildings, anÂˇ order that seeps quietly and calmly into the observer's mind. The appeal of Woo's architecture lies in his elegant blending of logic and lyricism, and the building which best portrays this allure is the Whanki Museum, a small structure which Woo designed for his nowdeceased painter friend Kim Whanki.

ADuet of Architecture and Art The designer of a museum, especially one like the Whanki Museum which commemorates a specific artist, is faced with two conflicting demands. On the one hand, the building must fade into the background so that the art on exhibition takes center stage. On the other hand, the building must manifest itself as a structure commemorating the work and life of the artist Woo ingeniously addressed this challenge in the Whanki Museum. Kim's

The exterior of the Whanki Museum

paintings are enhanced by Woo's architectural support, and Woo's architecture conveys a profound lyricism in harmony with Kim's art. The small building and its art make a beautiful duet, reviving the painter's spirit. The two men shared a close friendship despite an age difference of more than 30 years. Like Kim Whanki's paintings, Woo's Whanki Museum is a quiet yet selfassured jewel. Though the product of lucid thought, it touches and moves the heart. It does not attract attention to itself with exaggerated features, yet is filled with inner energy. It is modest yet penetrating and manages to project a certain richness while employing a "language" of great restraint. Through this museum, Woo fully 'illustrates his unique.logic and poetic imagination. The Whanki Museum is no accident. The feelings it elicits were clearly planned. The architect played an active role at every stage, from the selection of the site, the preparation of the land and the composition of the building to the presentation of the space and the selec-

tion of the materials used. The Whanki Museum is hidden in a ravine in a residential area not far from the presidential mansion in Seoul. It is reminiscent of long-ago Seoul and quite removed from the gallery district in the heart of the capital. Located on a scenic site facing Mt. Inwangsan to the west and Mt. Puk-aksan to the south, it seems to have the pride of an inscrutable classical scholar. Woo created a small yet complex structure for the Whanki Museum. Several buildings, some separate and others connected, form the larger whole. The function of the museum and the topographical conditions achieve an ingenious harmony in this composition. The layout permits the staging of various functions, such as permanent and special exhibitions, meetings and seminars and also prqvides a humane and intimate environment despite the relatively large building area required because of the sloped site. The result is delightful. The museum structure and the overall atmosphere, includ-

,.' I

ing the buildings and courtyard, captivate visitors by drawing them into an integrated space commemorating Kim and providing an intense personal experience. The main building is woven into one linear space, but from a fo(mative aspec~ it is composed of a combination of three "building groups." Academic functions are held in what resembles a stack of square modules near the stairs joining the entry "axle." The rectangular building topped with a pair of "bolts" is the exhibition hall, while the empty cubic space between these two buildings is the "Central Hall." These three "building groups" are linked by stairs which spiral upwards around them. It is interesting to note the 32:1 relationship of these building groups. The academic building is created by three overlapping hexahedrons, the exhibition hall is split by two bolts, and the central hall is created inside a single hexahedron. This "trisection" imparts an order of primitive and intense contrast and unity to the main building.

A tour of the museum begins at the entrance hall which opens to the entry axis on the first floor of the academic building. The entrance hall is a narrow, high space flooded with light from above. A large black-and-white paneled likeness of the painter at work greets visitors in front High on the side wall, a section of a line drawing by Kim has been transformed into stained glass. Light filters through it from the south, projecting its image into the entrance hall. Past the entrance hall and across a small transitional space is the central hall. An 8-meter cube, the hall is the nucleus of the Whanki Museum. It is impossible to go anywhere in the museum without being aware of this hall. The duet between the architect and painter is transformed into a masterpiece here. The lower walls are blindingl y white. They envelop Kim Whanki's paintings and highlight them as brilliant jewels. Above the paintings, the walls disappear, blending the columns and the interceding space into

a square net, and expose the stairs Climbing to the three-story exhibition hall like a silhouette of stairs leading to heaven. Enclosed and open space, achromatic and nonachromatic colors, planes and lines, light and shadow-this subtle drama of contrast and unity unfolding within an orderly geometrical framework transforms the central hall into a sanctuary dedicated to the art of Kim Whank~ a monument created out of empty space. Spiraling stairs, which wrap around the back of the four walls demarcating the central hall, lead visitors to the exhibition hall. Light pouring in from a skylight creates a feeling of being outside; as a resul~ the empty space of the central hall is perceived as an independent structure with its own physical entity. The designer clearly wanted to bestow upon the central hall a monumental identity. The transitional space created between the stairs and the exhibition space carries on this theme. Because of this space, the central hall and exhibition area are perceived as separate yet

The Whanki Museum at night 53

connected. The exhibition space on the second and third floors is divided into two cozy areas, intended to allow ty.ro distinct exhibitions. Nowhere do architectural devices compete with the paintings; however, an effective background is cautiously and meticulously pursued throughout the museum. When a wall meets a wall or a wall a ceiling, they cross paths rather than "fold" together. This effect emphasizes the role of the walls and ceilings as a background supporting the paintings, rather than as a demarcation defining internal space. At the points where they join-away from the viewer's line of vision-an exchange with the world outside the exhibition hall takes place. Sunlight seeps through the hidden skylight, and the majestic shape of Inwangsan penetrates the hall through a vertical window. As a result of this presentation, the exhibition hall comes alive as a space in which nature's breath can be felt. The air and light flow as in one of Kim Whanki's paintings. The exhibition hall is not simply an enclosed warehouse. Through restraint and modesty, the museum's designer has succeeded in making the entire exhibition space a stirring "landscape of mental images." There is a square courtyard outside the exhibition hall. The courtyard, which is on the roof of the central hall, illustrates the architect's ingenious touch. It is enclosed on all four sides like the central garden in a traditional Korean house. A long corridor of glass blocks with a tin roof envelops the courtyard, turning it into a space that faces the sky. At the center of the courtyard is a welllike skylight that sends light into the central hall. The silhouettes of the two round bolts on the exhibition hall stand proudly like a mountain beyond the western corridor with a triangular lighting door in between. The courtyard's ambience, generated through a combination of squares and circles and glass and metal, is quite abstract and tempered. It stands in sharp contrast with the surrounding 54

natural environment, Kim Whanki's paintings and the lyrical spatial ambience of the museum's interior. This contrast is clearly intentional. It brings visitors closer to the trees and rocks, the mountains and valleys, and the wind and clouds visible through the openings in the "corridor" and also to the landscape of "mental images" created by Kim Whanki. Through geometrical abstraction, Woo Kyu-sung once again asks the visitor to ruminate on the museum's theme, "the manifestation of nature and the universe through a landscape of mental images." From the outside, the main building presents a very simple and serene appearance. It is difficult to imagine the diverse, dynamic drama taking place inside the simple cubic structure overlaid with slabs of stone. Although extraordinary refinement can be sensed from the lines of copper plates and from the different quality of stone slabs at t~e base and top as well as from the bolts on the roof, there is no trace of formal decoration or an attempt to impress visitors with visual effects. Still, there is a lofty pride in the Whanki Museum. It comes not only from the buildings themselves but also from the way they are laid out. Just as the stairs inside the buildings accentuate the central hall by encircling its outer walls, the paved space on the roof and the stairs encircling the main building enable the museum to adhere closely to the site's sloped topography and present a consistent and monumental independence. The quintessence of Woo's architecture can be observed in the Whanki Museum. There are no exaggeration, loud messages or gestures in this structure. Nor are there any facades or skylines produced for the camera's benefit. The Whanki Museum is not a structure of visual completion, but a place of consummate personal experience. The museum reveals its true form only when one experiences both the interior and exterior of the museum, the paintings on display and the background altogether.

Its true form is one of extreme restraint" and refinement. It is tranquil, orderly and compact. However, it has a poetic beauty that captivates the observer. A manifestation of poetic sentiments through restain~ an integration of clear thinking and lyricism, the monumentality inherent in friendship-these are the qualities consistently found in Woo's architecture. At the same time, these are also the qualities underlying the artistic world of Kim Whanki. Woo revived the spirit of a dead artist with whom he shared an intellectual world and created an architectural monument that is profoundly moving by adding his own voice to it.

The power of the Whanki Museum derives from Wo~ precision and intensity, from the selection of the site to the design and ultimate use of space. The exhibition space (left) achieves an exquisite harmony between art and architecture. Night and day create completely different visual experiences at the museum (above). .

Passion and Modesty How Woo Kyu-sung will be assessed as an artist in Korea and the United States is up to history. The job of defining the "Korean" attributes in Woo's architectural world is up to the critics. Whatever the verdict, Woo's accomplishments so far suggest a great deal for Korea, which has experienced rapid social change and has yet to establish its own modern architectural culture. Despite his solid status in the international architectural community, Woo, unfortunately, is not a popular architect in Korea. His works are too tranquil, too introspective and too restrained. And he is too faithful to his own world.

He has had much good fortune in winning awards but less so in winning lucrative commissions, which he does not actively pursue. This is why Woo Kyu-sung and his architecture are a mirror of our reality. Architecture is life for Woo. He looks at the world through architecture and tries to understand the world by reflecting it in his architecture. And he does not stop there. He acknowledges that architecture is only a part of the environment that allows people to live as human beings, and that architecture is not a transcendental being that can exist by itself. For this reason, he knows how to humble himself with modesty

even while passionately throwing his whole essence into his work. It is because of this passion that he can find his own voice and maintain it so consistently without being seduced by any ideology or passing fad. Meanwhile, his reserve and dedication to the specific circumstances of each project originate from a modesty that respects specific and individual circumstances. Woo Kyu-sung's architecture takes place in an environment where passion and modesty teach each other and contribute to each other's growth, ultimately melding together to become one rather than creating a quantitative balance. + 55

What Makes Korean Paintings Âˇ Korean? Pak Yong-suk Art Critic Professor of Art History Dongduck Women's University

omb paintings, which portrayed the "underworld" in Korean myths, were highly developed in Korea during the fourth century through the mid-seventh century. The painters of these ancient murals, which depict not only the customs of the times but also flowers, trees and animals, created their own unique world with strong primary colors. Noteworthy among the murals are the wall paintings in the Tomb of the Four Spirits in P'yong-annam-do

province in North Korea. A magnificent animal is painted on each of the tomb's four walls: a blue dragon on the east, a white tiger on the west, a red phoenix on the south and a black tortoise and snake on the north. These remarkable paintings well represent the distinctive nature of Korean painting and are highly regarded not only for their unprecedented sophistication but also for the precision of their brushwork and the powerful theme. Research on the Tomb of the Four

Spirits is not conclusive, but from the placement of the symbolic animals on the tomb walls it is clear the murals are primitive mandala paintings featuring the geometric forms, images and symbols found in Buddhist art The animals depicted in the tomb reverberate with energy, almost as if they were alive. This feeling, known in Korean as kiunsaengdong, "ambience of graceful vitality," is the fundamental principle underlying Chinese landscape painting theory. Chronologically, this aesthetic expres-

The interior murals of Koguryi5 tombs inJian in China'sJllin province portray four symbolic animals known as the Four Spirits or sashin in Korean. 56

sion first appeared in Korean murals, not in Chinese painting. For viewers accustomed to Western painting, it may be difficult ,J:o understand how the principle of kiun-saengdong and the dual principles of the yin and yang and the Five Elements of Life (metal, wood, water, fire, earth) are manifested in painting. However, some elements of kiun-saengdong are reflected to a certain extent in modern European painting schools such as impressionism, Fauvism and futurism. Unlike Western painting, however, this ambience was expressed through animal figures, rather than in the abstract designs as seen in the Tomb of the Four Spirits. This graceful vitality of kiun-saengdong is what differentiates Korean painting from the Chinese landscape genre which developed after the Tang Dynasty. The kiun-saengdong tradition, firmly established in the Tomb of the Four Spirits, was severed by the spread of ink landscape painting introduced from China. It later reemerged in the form of genre paintings, shamanist paintings and folk paintings sometime around the 18th century when Sirhak

(Practical Learning) was introduced. The task of defining what makes Korean art Korean must begin by following this trail

The Roots of Koreanness The term kiun-saengdong, which is often employed in Chinese painting theory, can be translated as puru in Korean. The etymological root of puru is pul, or fire. The word refers to a quality of expansion associated with alchemy. The term puru tanji used in shamanism actually refers to a ritual jar in which rice and barley stalks are stuck. The jar is used in alchemy and as an object of worship. In ancient times, the spirit governing alchemy was called puru, indicative of the term's connection with the phenomenon of expansion. According to the theories of the yin and yang and the Five Elements of Life, rice is yin and barley is yang. When these two elements clash, "expansion" takes place. The jar is the mysterious medium that makes this expansion possible. The rice and barley are ki, or energy, the jar is un, or gracefulness; tanji precisely incorporates the concept of kiun-saengdong.

When the same phenomenon takes place in one's heart, it is called shin param, elation or a kind of internal expansion-an indication of shin param's association with alchemy. It is important to remember that "expansion" is not a phenomenon that can be explained in a logical way. Rather, it defies logic and hence belongs to the realm of mystery. In the seventh century, the great Buddhist master W onhyo illustrated his experience of "expansion" with a metaphor about riding an ox. Wonhyo wrote the manuscript for his interpretation of the Vajra-samadhi-sutra, yvhich became a basic Buddhist text, while riding an ox. He placed his inkstone between the ox's horns, held a brush in his right hand and paper in his left The inkstone moved one way and W onhyo's body moved another. His hands also moved in different directions. It was virtually impossible to write under such "indefinite" conditions, yet W onhyo was able to complete his book because he had attained a state of perfect concentration: This metaphor tacitly reveals the nature of truth as do depictions of India's Shiva Nataraja, the

The decorative painting or tanch'ong found on much of China's and Korea's traditional architecture always contains obangsaek, the colors of the five cardinal directions. 57

Lord of Dance who symbolizes the drama of the cosmos. Wonhyo overcame impossible conditions because he experienced shin param, or eLation. The phenomenon of expansion is similar to a brightly burning flame. It can create an immobile center by passing through all indefinite energy. In shor~ shin param is like taming a wild horse. Koreans sometimes refer to the act of drawing or writing as ch'ida, a word associated with raising livestock. Art can be understood in this context. Drawing or writing involve the "raising" of an indefinite energy, similar to the task of raising animals. The unique calligraphy style developed by Kim ChOng-hili (1786-1856) during the Chason Dynasty, was clearly born of the artist's unrestricted "raising" of indefinite energy. Thus the ambience of graceful vitality, or kiun-saengdong, that appears in Korean paintings manifests itself as ch'i-da or a kind of cultivation of energy. However, to truly understand the concept of ch'ida, one must also understand the concept of pashimi, a term used in architecture that refers to the planing or carving of wood that is to be fitted together without the use of nails. The basic principles of the yin and yang and the Five Elements of Life are invoked in this technique because it involves the interaction and mutual dependence of forces.

Principles of Nature in Art The murals found in the Tomb of the Four Spirits are classic examples of the use of the principles of the yin and yang and the Five Elements of Life. The phoenix symbolizes the sky and the tortoise the sea. Together they represent the relationship between yin and yang in vertical symmetry. The tortoise is intertwined with the snake, indicating how the axes of the vertical yin and yang and horizontal yin and yang expand due to the subtle principles of nature. This is much like the principle of pashimi, which involves joining engraved and embossed wooden struc58

Koreans som etimes refer to the act of drawing or -writing as ch'icla, a w ord associated w ith raising livestock. Art can be un derstood in this contex t Drawing or writing in volve the "raising'' of indefinite energy, similar to the task of raising animals.

On the opposite page, clockwise from the top: a folk painting portraying a magpie and tiger, a detailed view of Yi Ung-no's School of Fish, and Pak Pong-su'sCock Fight

tures without the use of a single nail. The same is true of folk paintings. A typical folk painting scene is a tiger holding a pipe while a rabbit lights it. Although these paintings resemble fables, they actually show how the energies of the yin and yang interact harmoniously, as in the Tomb of the Four Spirits. The tiger symbolizes the end of night in the twelve horary signs

and the rabbit represents the beginning of day. By lighting the tiger's pipe the rabbit shows that night and day and yin and yang, though of contrasting qualities, are intricately connected, much like a Mobius strip. The painting depicts all of the natural world. If truth is seen as form, then it is pashimi If truth is seen as phenomenon, it is expansion, and if it is experienced with the heart, it is shin param. Nature is viewed in two distinct ways in Korean painting. Sometimes the emphasis is placed on understanding nature as time rather than space. As a result, the perspective of lines and even the unique perspective of landscape paintings are ignored. The other approach to nature relates to the perception of living things, not according to any concept of species, but as forms of energy which create yin and yang. For this reason, nature is pantheistic. Magpies converse with tigers, tigers cohabit with humans, men ride dragons-these images illustrate the combination of the energy of the yin and yang. Yang energy can transform itself into yin energy and vice versa, or the two energies can merge and create an entirely different form of energy. This is kiun-saengdong, shin param, expansion and pashimi A form is always presented in a variable state rather than in a compl ~ ted one. Each natural object is complete at any given moment and at the same time in a constant state of variability. It is extremely difficult to transfer this perspective into a painting because none of the objects can be depicted in their completed form.

Ambiguity The most conspicuous feature of Korean painting is "ambiguity." Ambiguity eschews realism. A tiger cannot be drawn according to its actual form. Koreans believe that a tiger could become a cat or a human. In fact, the standard depiction of a tiger smoking a pipe suggests it is partly human. This perspective suggests that nature changes ceaselessly, as does humanity. It would

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be foolish to anchor something in a current of energy that unceasingly changes and flows. The Korean people's unique aesthetic sense of spontaneity and ambiguity is well reflected in their earthenwalled houses, gardens and wooden vessels. Koreans have long believed that life is a repetition of expansion and contraction. Expansion is life and contraction is death. Pak Pong-su's Cock Fight, painted during the 1950s, and Yi Ung-no's School of Fish, painted in the 1970s, both depict animals. Cock Fight portrays two roosters locked in battle. However, the content of the painting is not clear. In fact, the title is the only way to be sure what the painting actually depicts. The observer only gets the impression of cocks fighting through Pak's firm and rapid brushstrokes which are themselves reminiscent of a rooster's comb. The painting is clearly spontaneous; it is an expression of elation and ambiguity. The black brushstrokes move rapidly, displaying explosive force, as if the two roosters, symbols of nature's energy, are smashing against each other like the cosmic yin and yang whose power continues to expand. Yi Ung-no's School of Fish depicts a school of mandarin fish in ink with light coloring for the water. Except for what appear to be the eyes of fish, the painting offers no definite clue that the objects are fish. They could just as easily be bats or frogs. This can be called "reasonable ambiguity." The painter clearly did not try to draw any particular fish; instead he spontaneously expressed the moving energy he saw in the water. It does not really matter whether the mandarin fish are mistaken for bats or frogs. On the contrary, the painter would have been pleased if all these different animals were projected in a single form. This pursuit of indefinite forms appears not only in paintings of animals but also in landscape paintings. Kim Ki-ch'ang's Idiot Landscape and the works of Song Chae-hyu are distinguished from traditional ink paintings 59

Kim Ki-ch'ang'sTansangdo (top), Song Chae-hyu's Birds in Flight

The most conspicuous feature of Korean painting is "am big uity." Ambig uity eschews realism. 60

by their extensive use of color. They also differ from the painting style found in the wall paintings in the Tomb of the Four Spirits because they use paper, brush and ink. However, these paintings faithfully carry on the Korean tradition of ambiguity in their handling of forms. As its title suggests, Kim Ki-ch'ang's Idiot Landscape is drawn clumsily, as if it really was the work of an idiot. This can be understood as an attempt to distinguish itself from traditional Chinese literati paintings. Of course, Idiot Landscape was not painted by an idiot, but it is unsophisticated and crude compared to traditional landscape paintings. Most of . Kim's "idiotic" landscapes show ah isolated village surrounded by green mountains. Houses with tiled or thatched roofs dot the landscape, and their inhabitants are expesed as if they are living in rooms without walls. Most important is the constant movement, albeit slow and hesitant, of the lines representing mountains and trees, and those representing houses and walls. The viewer seems to be watching a movie projected at half-speed. Again, this is a reflection of the indefinite nature of objects. It also reflects a uniquely ambiguous Korean aesthetic sense. They try to grasp something concrete amid the indefinite. For them, the essence of life is not obvious; it is not like looking inside a machine. Song Chae-hyu's paintings are much clearer than Kim Kkh'ang's landscapes. The lines representing objects are distinct and strong. However, the distinction between the lines and planes in his paintings 'is ambiguous and blurred. In fact, the thick lines of ink almost seem like planes, not lines. The dense ink is understood as an expression of yang energy and the lighter lines as yin energy. The lines and planes express the energy of yang and yin, respectively. In this sense, Song's paintings are not representations of forms comprising a scene so much as energy comprising the scene.

Color Traditional Chinese painters favored India ink whereas in Korea the wallpainting tradition persisted for some time despite the introduction of ink painting. Thus, when seeking to define Koreanness, the question of color must be considered. The Korean concept of color is generally thought to derive from obangsaek, the colors of the five cardinal directions. Blue symbolizes East, white West, red South, black North and yellow the center. This is not an indigenous Korean concept, but rather a universal one found throughout traditional East Asia. However, this concept was perpetuated for a long time in Korea, and the obangsaek concept of color is quite different from the concept guiding Western painting. For example, in Western painting black symbolizes death, but in Korea white symbolizes death and black represents sublimity. The definition and use of colors is bound to the concept of obangsaek because of its association with alchemy. The wall paintings ir1 the Tomb of the Four Spirits are the prototype for the use of the five cardinal colors. The animals depicted in the murals are associated with directions. For instance, the bird symbolizing South is red, the dragon pointing East is blue, the tiger pointing West is white, and the tortoise pointing North is black. At the center is a yellow dragon. However, these colors did not merely represent directions. They also incorporated other ideology. For example, blue represented benevolence, white justice, black wisdom, red courtesy and yellow harmony. It is uncertain whether these norms correspond to humankind's primitive and innate responses to colors, but it is clear that Korea's color aesthetic has adapted to them since ancient times. Accordingly, one can see these colors in murals depicting the underworld, shamanic paintings, a variation on these murals, and in folk and Buddhist paintings. Shamanic paintings are particularly revealing.

Mushindo, the Korean word for shamanic paintings, refers to religious paintings that depict the spirits revered by shamans. When the culture of the underworld still existed, these paintings were drawn on the walls of sacred shamanist sites, such as the places where exorcisms were held; or in underground chambers. For this reason, shamanic paintings incorporated almost all the qualities of the underworld, including the use of strong and primary colors with no complementary color. The spirits depiced in shamanic paintings have supernatural powers and offer practical help to human beings. The spirits required special coloring when they inhabited the walls of the underworld. The colors had to be strong for the spirits to be seen in faint candle light. Simple primary colors were a necessity. Sometimes phosphorus was added for a luminous glow. These methods were no longer necessary when the age of the underworld passed and the spirits rose to the earth's surface. However, primary colors continued to be used in paintings and were borrowed and "modernized" by Pak Saeng-gwang in the 1980s. Pak's "Shaman" series and his paintings Mask, The Birth of Tan-gun and Tonghakto fully display the Korean awareness of colors. As the titles of these paintings suggest, a shaman, a mask, the images of Korea's mythical founder Tan-gun and the Tonghak ideology all symbolize the culture of the underworld in painting.

To Koreans, the tradition of the underworld, known as shamanism in the West, is understood as the religion of a mythical era. Shamans were priestesses of that period in time and Tan-gun . was the supreme priest. Masks were sacred instruments of secret rites, and Tonghak was a modern movement that attempted to revive the spirit of the underworld. The subjects that Pak selected were undoubtedly in the same vein as traditional shamanic paintings. In fact, he used the printing technique

Pak Saeng-gwang's Shamanism

employed in traditional shamanist paintings. Pak 'used blue, white, red, black and yellow, the colors of the five directions, in the same manner, although the ideology related to these colors and tones were somewhat modified. Of course, this does not mean that his paintings were shamanic paintings. In fact, the two can be distinguished by their different painting methods. In the 1980s, Pak Saeng-gwang's paintings were thoroughly one-dimensional.

The wall paintings in the Tomb of the Four Spirits, shamanic paintings and folk paintings, while lacking perspective relative to landscape paintings, give a certain impression of space. Pak banished even that hint of depth from his paintings. This quality demonstrates his creativity and reveals the developmental potential of the Korean aesthetic sense. To a certain extent, the flatness of Pak's paintings is related to his earlier Âˇworks which were influenced by Japanese painting. This is especially true of his refusal to leave mar~ gins and his insistence on having the subject of the painting fill the ca.nvas completely. His work in the 1980s, however, used techniques found in shamanic and folk paintings and bestowed a ~ertain order on the chaos of his canvases. Of course, that order is unique and quite different from what was traditionally meant. by the word "order." In traditional painting, natural objects exist within the context of the dual principles of the yin and yang and the Five Elements of Life; objects are variable, not static. To a painter of the traditional period, therefore, re-creating a natural object meant rearranging the energy of the yin and yang in accordance with the principles of the Five Elements of Life. The onedimensional order of Pak's paintings is seen as his own unique order because Pak's paintings, while part of a tradition, do not strictly observe these principles. Attempting something new in painting signifies a departure from tradition, much like a child leaving its mother's breast to sit at a table for the first time. This is why Pak's departure may well be called a new order that is all his own. â&#x20AC;˘ 61

Trends in Korean Painting OhKwang-su Art Critic

hat is ''Korean painting;' and what exactly makes it Korean? ''Korean painting" is a term that gained currency in the 1980s to distinguish the works of Korean artists from what was hitherto commonly known as "Oriental painting." Whereas the latter term refers to Chinese, Korean and Japanese traditional art, Korean painting specifically refers to Korean-style painting. When the term "Oriental painting" was replaced by "Korean painting," a definitive explanation or justification for the change should have been put forth. However, explanations thus far given for the change have not been elaborate enough, particularly those regarding the styles and other elements that make "Korean painting" uniquely Korean. Even though the adoption of a more precise term is preferable since the word "Oriental" has vague boundaries, the absence of a well-justified reason for the change has left room for lingering debate on the terminology. Even today, some artists favor the term "Oriental painting" to ''Korean painting." Modern Korean artists generally follow one of two currents: Korean painting using traditional painting methods and Western painting using methods and styles borrowed from the West. The two schools of painting differ in the materials that are used. Korean painting uses India ink and paper, whereas Western painting uses mainly oil paints and canvas. Recently, however, it has become virtually impossible to distinguish the two types of painting

Some people insist that Korean painting should continue to be created with the traditional materials and methods, while others value the exploration of new materials and the endless possibilities for expression, arguing that differentiating between Korean painting and Western painting merely restricts the artist's creativity.

based on materials alone as the variety of materials being used by both has become more diverse than ever. For example, it is not uncommon to see an artist working on a Korean painting using a canvas and acrylic paint. Generally, the younger the artists, the less meaningful are the boundaries between Korean and Western .painting materials. Some artists even question the need to distinguish between the two, an attitude which reflects a growing sentiment to ignore the boundary between Korean and Western painting. Many artists now .forego such labels altogether, merely calling their work a painting. Reactions to this approach vary. Some people insist that Korean painting should continue to be created with the traditional materials and methods, while others value the exploration of new materials and the endless possibilities for expression, arguing that differentiating between Korean painting and Western painting merely restricts the artist's creativity. Perhaps herein lies the dilemma: the task of figuring out a precise definition of "KoreaÂˇn. painting" and the direction it should take.

'Spirituality of Ink Painting In this respect, there is the problem of characterizing the "Koreanness" of Korean traditional painting, an identifying element. However, since Korean painting is an art form unique to Koreans, a debate on the Koreanness would seem to be redundant. Thus, a better understanding of what is meant by Koreanness may well be attained by

examining some types of Korean painting with the most prominent Korean characteristics. Ink is the main medium for Korean painting with ~ which a unique art world is created. In the pas~ ink painting was commonly done by the literati With temperate brushstrokes and rich nuances made possible through the use of ink, the main objective of artists of this genre of painting is to strive for a higher spirituality through their art. Literati painters in the past had access to limited materials and focused on definite objects. For example, many literati artists painted the Four Gracious Plants (plum, orchid, chrysanthemum and bamboo) each symbolizing a virtue to which a gentleman-scholar should aspire.

Some of today's painters pursue the spiritual attainment of the literati painters, but they do not adopt the same motifs. Instead, they tend to prefer more abstract subjects. Artists representative of this trend include SO Se-ok, Song Y ong-bang, and Kim Ho-duk. Their works share a compactness of expression achieved by very simple brushwork and the blotting and bleeding of ink. So Se-ok paints as though he were writing with the brush, finishing a work with what appears to be one continuous brushstroke. His working method can be described as a manifestation of the highly concentrated spirit of the literati of the past. His brushstrokes are meaningful expressions of human fig-

ures. Whether they are layered one above the other, aligned in rows or seemingly Âˇ dancing with outstretched arms, they are all groups of people. The paintings of Song Yong-bang most accurately reflect the influence of the literati in terms of subject matter and also through his compressed form of expressionism. Landscapes feature prominently in Kim Ho-duk's paintings and his restrained methods of expression show his interest in traditionalism. Whereas Song Yong-bang strives for a serene and lyrical setting, Kim Ho-duk produces images of a more turbulent world. India ink is a restrictive medium, limiting the artist to the colors black and white. Some artists use additional colors

SOSe-ok's Group Dance

SongYong-bang's Dancing Mountain and Water (top) and Kim Ho-duk's Ravine

for variety, but SO Se-ok and Kim Ho-duk create most of their paintings with black ink only. With the use of only one color, i:he painting is bound to have jts expression compressed and brushstrokes sparse. This leads to another characteristic of ink painting: the meanings are more suggestive than expressed openly; the literati of the past regarded this as a representation of spirituality. The current interest of some artists i.ri. ink painting can be understood as the result of a renewed fascination with the Oriental view of the world that emphasizes the inner spiritual world over the secular. Behind the sensational sumukhwa (ink painting) movement of the early 1980s was the yearning for a more spiritual world. In an environment that had become hazardous to one's spirit due to materialism, artists fought to preserve their unique spirituality. Of the artists who were at the forefront of the sumukhwa movement and are still active today, Song Su-nam and Yi Ch'ollyang are two of the most representative. They have ventured beyond the usual subtleties in ink blotting and bleeding to experiment with different strokes and various shades of ink Artist Chong T'ak-yong uses ink sticks instead of brushes and prints rather than paints. His works, which are full of warm and light shades of ink and blotting, show the serenity that can only be found in ink painting.

-~ '

tr ~

. JÂˇ"-..

Modernized Folk Painting Korean paper has always been regarded as an essential element in Korean painting. Ink painting involves not only the application of ink to paper, but the controlled interaction of the ink and paper to create a distinct harmony of black and white. In this respect, the elements of ink painting differ notably from the colors and canvas used in Western painting. The use of Korean paper as a painting surface has spread to Western painters since the 1980s. A number of "Works on Paper" exhibitions were held in the first half of the 1980s.

Song Su-nam 's India Ink 90 (top) and Yi Ch'ol-lyang's Spirits' Market

The current interest of some artists in ink painting can be understood as the result of a renewed fascination with the Oriental view of the world that emphasizes the inner spiritual world over the secular. 65

Ink painting involves

not only the application of ink to paper, but the controlled interaction of the ink and paper to create a distinct harmony of black and white. In this respc~

the elements

of ink painting differ notably from the colors and canvas used in Western painting

SOkCh'ol-chu's LifeDiary(right); Yi Wal-chong's In the Life (opposite page); The Korean painting gallery at the National Museum of Contemporary Art(below)

"Works on paper" usually referred to drawings, but the relationship between drawing and paper as a surface for painting was examined thorol}ghly. In other words, there was a repeated recognition of the important role that paper plays in the general form of a painting. As a result, a few artists took to working directly on paper with oils and similar materials. Some even put a layer of Korean paper on top of a canvas and then worked as usual. Others worked with the basic ingredient in Korean paper, mulberry pulp, to build up a thick surface that was regarded as a work of art in itself. In some works, the drying of the mulberry pulp completed the art piece. In the world of Korean painting, several artists fascinated by the soft texture of Korean paper chose to forego paint altogether, either making collages or extracting new surfaces and forms by manipulating the paper. The main exponents of this type of work were Kwon Yong-u and Won Mun-ja who gave depth and perspective to their

Kwon Yong-u's Untitled

The emotions of the Korean people flow out of the folk paintings. Admittedly not very el

egan~

the paintings of this school were rather amateurish, but they were the expressions of the lives, myths and feelings of common p eople. 68

works by molding the surface of the paper to create texture. In addition to the ink painting that follows in the tradition of the literati and the work with paper utilizing its unique textural qualities, a group of artists is engaged in interpreting in a modern way the motifs of minhwa (folk painting) and other genres of painting that were once popular among common people in the past. For example, the late Pak Saeng-gwang was unique in modernizing shamanic painting in color. Today, many young artists are trying to modernize the color scheme of shamanic painting and Buddhist painting as well. Yi Chongsang combines traditional Korean painting methods and fresco techniques. His painting could be categorized as a departure from the traditional sansuhwa (water-and-mountain or landscape painting) school in that it is more diagrammatic. Minhwa and other forms of folk painting sought to portray scenes of everyday life through various motifs and color schemes. ÂˇThe emotions of the Korean people flow out of the folk painting, largely using primary colors. Admittedly not very elegant, the paintings of this school were rather amateurish, but they were the expressions of the lives, myths and feelings of common p,eople. Kim Ki-ch'ang, who has painted what he calls a pabo-sansu (Idiot Landscape) series, has tried to introduce a modernist sensibility to minhwa painting. He has adopted unsophisticated, crude rendering, strong primary color scheme and humor, but has developed a minhwa style that is entirely his own. His paintings can be considered contemporary minhwa. Working in a somewhat different style but very much influenced by the forms and colors of minhwa are artists Kim Pyong-chong, Yi Wal-chong and Sok Ch'ol-chu. Their paintings are considered more refined and modern. Characteristics that are essentially Korean are evident in the sansuhwa

tradition, which portrays the essence of Korean mountains and streams. Influenced by past masters such as Yi Sang-born and Pyon Kwan-shik, who perfected the ideal of sansuhwa, a younger generation of artists including Kim Tong-su and Yi Yong-ch'an is attempting to establish their own distinctive identities in landscape painting. Sansuhwa can be divided into two different traditions: the idealized depictions of kwannyom sansu, and the more realistic, natural landscapes of sagyong sansu. The former has distinct Chinese influences and is more

YiSang-bOm's Dawn (top) and Pyon Kwan-shik's Late Autumn in a Farming Village

formal, whereas the latter's depictions of the natural beauty of Korea form powerful images. Although there are many painters of the sagyong sansu school, there are only a few who truly capture the unique vitality and essence of Korean mountains and rivers. Kim Tong-su and Yi Yong-ch'an are two such painters. They compare favorably with other painters who approach mountain-and-river landscapes with a more realistic mind-set, but they stand out for having successfully established a unique mood in their landscapes. + 69

INTERVIEW

ON Photographer

Killl Soo-nalll Kim Young-uk Associate Editor, KOREAN A

hamanism has influenced Korean culture since before the Samhan period (200-100 B.C.). In fact, it can be said that it formed the core of Korean culture. In shamanism can be found the true image of the Korean people, their attitudes toward nature and God, and their views on the role of humanity in the universe. Korea's traditional culture and its shamanistic roots were shaken during the 1970s when the government launched the New Village (SaemaU!) Movement as part of its drive for economic development. The authoritarian government was determined to eliminate all vestiges of what it viewed as the "backwardness" of society's cultural traditions Thatched roofs, superstition and shamans were deemed unacceptable. However, photographer Kim Soonam, now 48, could not simply stand by and watch all of this. Fearing that Korea's rich traditional heritage would disappear, he picked up his camera and began roaming the Korean countryside in search of kut, traditional shamanic ceremonies. "When I started working at the nowdefunct Saedae monthly, the New Village Movement was in full swing," Kim reminisces. "Their slogan was 'Get rid of the thatched roofs and widen the roads in the village.' Many photographers started shooting scenes of rural communities because they were afraid that the old ways would be wiped out by the campaign. But I was more interested in people than scenes, so I began photographing shamans."

Photographer Kim Soo-nam collects extensive notes on his travels for use in captions and the many articles he writes for newspapers in Korea.

In sHamanism can be found

the true image of the Korean people, their attitudes toward nature and God, and their views on the role of humanity in the universe.

A dedicated journalist, Kim was determined to document Korean kut at a time when few were interested in shaman practices. But, as he traveled in search of scenes to photograph, Kim was gradually drawn deeper into the spiritual life of the Korean masses and the shamanist rites themselves. ''Kut have been suppressed for ages. During the Choson period (1392~0), shamans belonged to the low-born class and were not allowed inside the capital. Things didn't change under Japanese colonial rule. But when the poor and alienated need help, they turn to shamans and their kut," he says. Kim Soo-nam has systematically documented Korean kut in photographs that have been published in a 20-volume series by Yolhwadang, a Seoul publishing house. The series began in 1983 with a volume depicting the shamanist initiation ceremony of Hwanghae-do province and was completed in 1993 with the publication of a a rite volume on Seoul's Chinogwi ku~ held to appease the angry spirits of dead ancestors. ÂˇÂˇ Kim highlights the cultural and artistic functions of kut. Much more than a religious ceremony, kut encompass various elements of Korean legends, folk music and dance in their original forms. Kim also emphasizes kut's festive character that enhances village communal bonds. Kim has photographed all the major shamanist rites in Korea, from the Y6ngdung ku~ or Rite to the Spirit of the Wind, held on Chejudo Island, to rites performed by shamans in the

""'-

northern provinces, as well as countless village rituals performed around the Korean peninsula. Since Korea is surrounded. by water on three sides, it is no surprise that many of its shamanist rites are tied to fishing communities. The Pyolshin kut of Kojedo Island off the coast of Kyongsangnam-do province and the Ttibae kut of Wido Island off Chollanam-do province are just two examples. Kojedo's Pyolshin kut takes place at the beginning of the first lunar month every two years in the village of Chungnim. It is a village kut in which the entire community joins in the preparation and exercise of the rite dedicated to a bountiful catch and village peace and prosperity. The Ttibae kut of Wido involves the launching of miniature boats meant to carry away the villagers' bad luck This kut also prays for peace, prosperity and smooth sailing for the island fishermen. Most of the kut recorded in Kim's work are no longer practiced in their original state, as if to prove that he was right to devote himself to this endeavor. Kim does not simply follow shamans around the country. In order to accurately record the practices and philosophy underlying various kut, he has conducted a thorough study of shamanism. He is a founding member of the Society for the Study of Kut (Kut-hakhoe), which was established in 1981, and has actively participated in exchanges among Korean scholars specializing in this field.

Discovering Asian Folk Culture Kim began exploring shamanistic rituals and folk customs beyond Korea's borders in 1988. It all started with an assignment in Okinawa. Despite the dissuasion of many around him, Kim quit his job as a photographer at the respected Dong-A Ilbo newspaper and launched a new career as a freelancer. At the time, there were few freelance photographers in Korea, but Kim was determined to start anew, expanding his focus from Korean folk culture and

Life and death, pain and happiness, despair and hope are all part of the kut rite. Kim has recorded all types of kut in his 20-volume Korean Shamanic Rites series, beginning with the shamanic initiation rite of Hwanghae-do province in 1983. 71

shamanism to shamanistic practices throughout Asia. "I was thirty-nine at the time, a transitional age for anyone, and I was trying to decide what theme I sh; uld pursue in my forties," he recalls. ''Was I going to delve deeper into Korean folk culture and kut, or was I going to broaden my approach to shamanistic practices in Asia? Then in 1988, I got word that I had been awarded a grant that I had applied for from the Japan Foundation. That's how I got started. I began in Japan, focusing on unspoiled aspects of Japanese lifestyle and folk culture, such as traditional beliefs, New Year's customs and rites of passage." Kim has been traveling the back roads of Asia for nine years now, nearly halfway into a commitment to spend two decades recording shamanism and folk culture in Asia. Each year he takes at least two three-month journeys around Asia. He limits his travels to undeveloped areas, isolated from the influences of modern life. Over the years he has shot some 84,000 photos in 11 countries, including China, Taiwan, Thailand, Myanmar, Indonesia and Japan. He has often had to rely on hand gestures to communicate and has embarrassed himself on numerous occasions because he was not familiar with local customs. Kim has even ventured into areas controlled by guerrillas and drug-smugglers in search of traditional folk practices. His professional dedication is born of his commitment to the preservation of traditional culture, especially in remote areas where taboos and exclusivity are strong even today. Recently, Kim held his first exhibition in 12 years, a kind of midterm review of his exploration of the sources of traditional folk belief in Asia. The exhibition of 250 photographs is entitled ''Heaven and Earth in Asia." Kim's vivid images capture shamans conducting secret rites with the spirits, darkness, fire and ecstasy, blood spurting from the neck of a wild animal, and the fervor of myth and festival. Kim has developed a distinctive style 72

The images of Asia s minorities and their Jess-known cultures which Kim has captured on film are valuable resources for students of folk culture. Kims work has focused on people whose native beliefs have remained firm and strong in the face of cultural interference from without

Kim's passport, notebooks and slidefilms (above) are filled with details from the trips around Asia he takes two or more tbnes every year. Kbn has also published in japan a book of photographs which depicts the beauty and folk culture of Chejudo Island (below). The Ch'olmolli Kut which is performed in west coast villages (right)

over the last 20 years while pursuing a single theme. Unlike some photographers who come, shoot and go, Kim spends days with his subjects-eating with them, talking with them, sharing their lives. He seems to have been born with a natural affinity for interacting with people. "When I started photographing kut in Korea, I found that getting to know people was more important than the actual photography because many shamans and their clients shy away from the camera," he says. "Over the years, I've come to know most of the shamans, so when a big rite is planned, they contact me before they contact the press. We've become quite close:' Kim has become a fixture at kut throughout Korea. It almost would not be a kut if he were not there. All the major shamans know him, though more than half of the shamans captured in his kut series have passed away since its publication. "It's not easy becoming a respected shaman. You need powerful leadership skills, the ability to attract dozens, if not hundreds, of people, and you have to be able to memorize a lot of material. You need a good memory and a certain

spirit. It's more demanding than any art form," he notes. Âˇ According to Kim, the shaman has many skills that the average person cannot begin to imitate. Dancing, singing, playing musical instruments, even arranging the complicated ritual altarthese are all part of the shaman's job.

Talent and Commitment Kim Soo-nam is passionate and critical about his work. He is firmly dedicated, but at the same time tender and warmhearted. No wonder people like him. Everyone who knows him recalls fascinating conversations over drinks spiced with Kim's vast knowledge and enthusiasm for his work. Sit down to talk with Kim and one is sure to be treate9 to an intriguing conversation. Kim has always been more interested in original cultural forms than transformations, in recording rather than expressing. His first exposure to photography came during his days as a student in (he geology department at Yonsei University in Seoul when a relative gave him a camera as a gift. "There are few fields as varied as photography. I don't put a lot of stock in the question of whether photogra-

Kim has a natural rapport with people and strongly believes in the importance of becoming acquainted with his subjects before taking a siqgle photograph. A recent trip to Bali was no exception. Here he poses with local women at the end of a festival. A rite honoring the sea god in Okinawa (right) 74

phy is a means of recording life or art To me the only question is whether a photograph has artistic merit. I'm extremely interested in life itself. I'm satisfied spending my time recording the lives of one class of society at one point in history. I see kut as a window on human life. It reveals the human experience through festival and belief," he stresses. Kim is quite well-known in Japan. Several books of his work, including a volume of photographs depicting life on Chejudo Island, have been published there, and a Japanese magazine issued a supplement on his last exhibition. Last year he became the first Korean, and only the second Asian, to be honored with an award for foreign photographers at the Higashikawa International Photography Festival. This award has always gone to internationally recognized photographers. The images of Asia's minorities and their less-known cultures which Kim has captured on film are valuable resources for students of folk culture. Kim 's work has focused on people whose native beliefs have remained firm and strong in the face of cultural interference from without. He describes his experiences with these native r -coples in this way: "I've always been amazed by how varied ,.the cultures and traditions of Asia are. The frustrating thing is we are now seeing a gradual deterioration of native cultures as Western culture is introduced. When I first encountered the minority groups of Asia, I felt they were somehow backward and uncivilized, but after spending time with them, I've learned how warm and genuine they are. That's probably because they have yet to be tainted by capitalism." As Kim Soo-nam crisscrosses Asia, at times a pilgrim, at times an explorer, searching out the sources of native beliefs, many of which are disappearing into memory as "civilization" pushes ever forward, his untiring passion and strength will never diminish. + 75

DISCOVERING KOREA

The Korean torrent gudgeon, a species of freshwater fish indigenous to Korea

investigation suggest that the freshwater fish pattern of the Korean peninsula may be related to the patterns in the Siberian and Manchurian subregions of the Palearctic region. The area around the upper reaches of the Yalu River in the Hamgyongnam-do, Hamgyongbuk-do and P'yong-anbuk-

Major Mountain Ranges

do provinces of North Korea belongs to the.Siberian subregion and most of the remaining area of the peninsula to the Manchurian subregion.

Distribution Pattern Accordingly, all freshwater species found in South Korea are within the Manchurian subregion, which itself can be classified into several smaller areas: the East Korea subdistrict, the South Korea subdistrict and the West Korea subdistrict. The East Korea subdistrict encompasses rivers flowing into the East Sea north of the Kangnung-Namdae-ch'on River that flows through Kangnung, Kangwon-do. Only one species of this subdistriet is endemic to the Korean peninsula: the black star minnow of the Cyprinidae. Other species include the Am ur minnow of the Cyprinidae, which is presumed to have originated from the Paleo-Amur River, and the northern loach of the Cobitididae. The South Korea subdistrict includes all rivers flowing into the East Sea south of the Kangnung-Namdae-ch'on, all rivers flowing into the South Sea,

and rivers flowing into the West Sea south of the Yongsan-gang River that has its estuary near Mokp'o, ChOllanamdo. There is a large yariety of primary freshwater fish in this subdistrict. The Korean spotted gudgeon of the Cyprinidae, the Korean sandy gudgeon, the king spine loach, the striped loach and the Korean stumpy bullhead, all endemic to the Korean peninsula, are found here. Other species include the spined loach, striped spine loach, and the Japanese aucha perch, which are only found in this area of Korea, though all three species are also found in western Japan. The West Korea subdistrict includes all rivers flowing into the West Sea north of the Yongsan-gang. This region also has a great variety of fish. Species indigenous to the Korean peninsula include the Kumgang minnow, the Korean bitterling, the black shiner, the slender shiner, the striped barbel, the Korean torrent gudgeon, the Korean shark gudgeon and the Korean bullhead gudgeon, all of the Cyprinidae; the Korean spine loach, the Puan spine loach and the Miho spine loach of the

Cobitididae; and the Korean torrent catfish and bullhead torrent catfish of the Amblycipitidae family. Unique species are the northern shiner, the f shwater ~e shad, the red-eye chub and the Manchurian gudgeon of the Cyprinidae; the Ussurian bullhead of the Bagridae; and the Manchurian trout of the Salmonidae, all of which are found only in this area of Korea. Interestingly, they are also found in China. The fact that a number of these species are found in China suggests that there are grounds for assuming that the freshwater fish of the Korean peninsula, especially of the West and South Korea subdistricts, originated in the Paleo-Hwang-ho (Yellow River) region. Detailed research on the regional division of the freshwater fish of the Korean peninsula is currently underway, but the worsening water pollution, the indiscriminate restructuring of riverbeds and the dredging of gravel and sand across the country are causing a significant reduction in the freshwater fish habitat, which was already extremely limited. These phenomena are leading to a sharp decline in the number of freshwater fish nationwide and some species are now near extinction, a situation that calls for urgent countermeasures by the government. Fortunately, the Ministry of Environment has recently included severa! rare and endangered freshwater fish species on its list of wild animals and plants that will be given legal protection. Among the previously mentioned native species, Korea can be particularly proud of the Ki:imgang minnow and Korean rose bitterling, which displays beautiful nuptial coloring during the spawning season; the Hemibarbus mylodon, which protects its eggs by building a protective spawning tower with small pebbles, and the Microphysogobio Jongidorsalis, Gobiobotia brevibarba, Gobiobotia m acrocephalus and Niwaella multifasciata, which boast unique coloring and behavior. â&#x20AC;˘

Three of the many varieties of fish which live in Korea's rivers and streams are (from the top) the Manchurian trout, Kumgang minnow and Korean aucha perch. 79

CURRENTS

Koreans Abroad and the New Generation Kim Moon-hwan President Korea Cultural Policy Institute

he first International Korean Studies Conference sponsored by the SAT II Korean Language Promotion Foundation and the Association of American Teachers of Korean was held in Los Angeles from July 19 to 22 this year. The conference focused on overseas Koreans and young Koreans growing up abroad It commemorated the selection of Korean as the ninth foreign language to be included in the SAT II (Scholastic Assessment Test) used to evaluate students for admission to American universities and colleges. The SAT II covers a broad range of subjects, from physics, chemistry, biology, sociology, American history, world history, and the aforementioned nine foreign languages. The selection of Korean for inclusion in the test reflects the heightened status of the Korean people in American society as well as a growing recognition of Korean as an international language. The move certainly represents a major development in the field of Korean language training and Korean studies in general. The Committee for SAT II Korea of the SAT II Korean Language Promotion Foundation, which sponsored the July conference with help from the Academy of Korean Studies and other organizations, has been working to have the Korean language included in the SAT II since 1988. The conference was organized to discuss the identity problems facing Koreans living in the multiethnic American society as part of a broader

perspective of looking at overseas Koreans around the world. The conference was significant for two reasons: first, by focusing on ethnic identity, it sought to bring a number of diverse disciplines under one universal theory of Korean studies; and second, on the basis of this newly defined identity, it sought to adopt a future-oriented view of the Korean people, a broad view which embraced Koreans from around the world and both North and South Korea. At the conference, more than 40 papers were presented in 13 fields of study. Six basic themes emerged: 1) an examination of the Korean national identity through traditional society and culture (papers included "Origins of the Korean People" and "The Transmission and Succession of Traditional Arts"); 2) understanding overseas Korean society ("The Nomadic and Emigrant Character of the Korean People" and "The Status and Identity of Korean-American Students"); 3) the pursuit of new relations between overseas Koreans, North and South Korea ("The Relationship Between North and South Korea and Overseas Koreans: Tradition and Modernity," "A Unified Korea"); 4) the philosophical and ethical roots of Korea's intellectual culture ("World Philosophy and Korean Philosophy," "Ethical Value Systems in the Global Age"); 5) the status of Korean studies abroad ("Korean Studies Overseas: Past, Present and Future" and "Korean Studies in the

Information Age"); and 6) globalization of the Korean language ("Han-gUl, the Globalization of Korean and Korean in the SAT II"). A special focus of this conference was an examination of the role of the younger generation in overseas Korean communities and the development of new relations between the two Koreas and overseas Koreans. In the past, the overseas Korean's relationship with his or her homeland has been much like unrequited love. Whether they chose to emigrate or were forced to leave their country because of circum.stances beyond their control, most overseas Koreans ended up abroad for reasons closely linked to Korea's tragic modern history. In the process of establishing themselves overseas, they have experienced considerable discrimination. As a result, they are outsiders in their own country and abroad. Over the years, Korean embassies have offered little assistance to overseas Koreans. On the contrary, they served more as a monitor, reporting on the activities of Koreans abroad. The Korean government provided virtually no policy support for overseas Koreans. This continues to be true as is evidenced in the private sponsorship of this recent conference. However, since Koreans living overseas have begun to establish a firmer social position for themselves in their adopted countries and South Korea has developed its national strength and taken a keener interest in global affairs, the important role of overseas

CURRENTS

Koreans in Korea's future is being widely recognized. National Identity One stumbling block, however, is the establishment of a nati~l identity that can firmly link overseas Koreans, South Korea and North Korea into a common community. As revealed in "The Status and Identity of Korean-American Students," a paper presented at the July conference, the problem of fostering a sense of national identity among second- and third-generation Koreans is a fundamental issue for Korea as it enters the age of globalization. Conference participants expressed varied viewpoints

about the formation of a common community on the basis of national identity, but one thing was clarified by this conference: National identity must be realized within the context of the new world environment, not in the restoration of the values of past traditional society. To briefly summarize the main presentations, let me first refer to the keynote address delivered by former Prime Minister Lee Hyun-jae. He pointed out the importance of a new relationship between overseas Koreans and the two Koreas for the restoration of a sense of national homogeneity. He also suggested that the development of an expanded role

for overseas Koreans will help overcome the identity crisis now faced by Koreans abroad. Historian Kang Man-gil of Korea University warned that the preservation of traditional Korean culture in the context of emigrant society should be pursued in a harmonious, positive manner which contributes to the development of the host society as well as humanity in general. Exclusivism or isolationism must be avoided. Prof. Hwang Byung-ki of Ewha Womans University's Department of Music emphasized the importance of understanding a culture's musical attributes and techniques to under-

An ancient book written in old style Korean alphabet, Han-gul

Whether they chose to emigrate or were forced to leave their country because of circumstances beyond their control, most overseas Koreans ended up abroad for reasons closely linked to Korea 's tragic modern history. 81

CURRENTS

standing the culture itself. According to Hwang, music is born from the cultural context of a particular nation or society; therefore one must understand its music to understand its culture. Hwang criticized claims of artistic superiority by any particular culture's music as being self-righteous and chauvinistic, and praised the Korean people's attempts in recent decades to understand their own traditional music. Hwang views this new interest and understanding from the context of the success of Korea's modernization and industrialization which have inevitably produced a certain emptiness due to a decline in national identity in modern times. In recent years there has been a steady increase in efforts to rediscover the values of traditional culture as a means of overcoming this sense of loss and emptiness. There has also been a growing number of Western intellectuals extolling the values of East Asian culture. Hwang struck a note with the other conference participants when he suggested that the dissemination of traditional culture is best achieved when it is transmitted in its pure original form as much as possible. President Kim Young-sam also sent a message to the conference. He noted that Korea is now playing a greater role in international politics and the world economy and as a result there is a growing interest in Korean studies and Korean language education. He pointed out that Korean is becoming increasingly important in the "Asian-Pacific Age" and stressed the need for overseas Koreans to learn the language if they are to compete globally. He also called for a coordinated effort to cultivate Korean studies specialists who will promote this field abroad and to establish long-term Korean language 82

programs for second- and third-generation Koreans growing up overseas.

Korean Studies Programs In this regard, the Korean government has decided to expand its support for overseas Korean studies and Korean language programs after a careful study of the present status of such programs at foreign universities. In recent years there has been a considerable increase in Korean language and Korean studies programs overseas. According to a Korea Foundation report, 279 universities in 49 countries were conducting Korean language and Korean studies programs as of June 1996. The Korean government plans to offer support on a priority basis after thoroughly evaluating each program. At present, the United States has the Âˇlargest number of Korean studies programs with 70. Japan has 63, and China, where many ethnic Koreans make their home, now has 29 universities offering Korean studies or Korean language courses. In recent years there has been a rapid increase in the number of Korean programs offered in Southeast Asia, Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. Vietnam, Thailand and Malaysia each have four programs, while the Philippines and Indonesia have two each. There are four in Russia and Kazakhstan, three each in Uzbekistan and Hungary, two each in the Czech Republic and the former Yugoslavia federation, and one each in Romania and Bulgaria. Conference participants viewed this growing interest in Korea and the Korean language as a response to the rapid expansion of Korean corporate investment in these countries and the local students' heightened recognition of the value of Korean language and cultural skills. Korean language will be included

in the American SAT II from November 1997. Many tasks lie ahead: the preparation of teaching materials, the training of instructors, the promotion of Korean language courses, the building of classrooms. At present, approximately 50,000 people are working at 1,000 Korean language institutions throughout the United States, but if the Korean Language Promotion Foundation continues to promote not only Korean in the SAT II but also Korean as a "world language," there is sure to be an even greater demand for Korean language programs and Korean studies programs. The tasks of compiling the 100-year history of Korean emigration and amassing the know ledge necessary to become part of the global age are daunting in themselves. In my presentation to the conference, I spoke of the urgent need for an international facility, like Israel's Diaspora Museum., which would bring together under one roof information and artifacts related to the 5.22 million Koreans living in more than 140 nations around the world. The Los Angeles conference brought together 25 Korean studies scholars from Korea and 39 from the United States and other countries. Only nine of the participants were non-Koreans, but it was a valuable academic session which attracted scholars of considerable eminence. In my paper entitled "A Proposal for the Establishment of a Cultural Community Among Overseas Koreans and North and South Korea," I emphasized the need for a combination of democracy and nationalism and the importance of tolerance in the consideration of new approaches to North Korean culture as well as cultural issues after unification of the two Koreas. Only with tolerance, democracy and a strong national identity will Koreans be prepared for the challenges of the international age. â&#x20AC;˘

JOURNEYS IN KO.REAN LITERATURE

A spirited curiosity underlies all of Kim Seung-ok's work. Curiosity is a passion that seeks to confirm the "unconfirmed" and turn it into a personal possession.

Kim Seung-ok In Search of Confi

ation

Cheon Yi-doo Professor of Korean Language Education Wonkwang University

im Seung-ok, who began his literary career in the early 1960s, was soon recognized as a standard-bearer for the literature of the decade. He explored a new and refreshing literary territory at a time when the boundaries of literature were not clearly defined. Until then, the Korean War (1950-1953) had been the determining factor in contemporary Korean literature and the postwar literature had virtually run its course. In a broad sense, the literature of the 1950s could be called ''wartime" or "postwar" literature. Writers of that period were forced to face the life-and-death challenges of war. The literature of the 1950s tended to be didactic, though it is not clear whether writers intentionally wrote this way. Their works were extremely tense, and almost without exception based on specific, clear-cut issues. A decade was sufficient to dilute the vividness of the war, however, and soon Kim emerged as an author who was blazing a new literary path. One important characteristic of Kim's work was his departure from the obsession with intensely realistic or moralistic issues which characterized literature in the 1950s. He also rejected the serious and emotional tone of the writings of the 1950s; his works were filled with a bold wit based on innovative sensibilities.

"At a bar in the third block of Ulchiro Street that has no sign there are five girls named Mija, and they are known in the order they came to work there: Big Mija, Second Mija, Third Mija, Fourth Mija and Last Mija!' "But thafs something other people 84

would know, too. I don't think you're the only one who has visited that place, Kim h yang." "Ah, you're righd I never thought of that Well, one night I slept with Big Mija, and the next morning she bought me a pair of shorts from a woman who carne around selling things on a daily installment plan Now, there was one hundred and ten won in the empty liquor bottle she used for keeping her moneY:' "Thafs more like it That fact is entirely your property alone, Kim hyong:' <Translated by Marshall R. Pihl, in Land of Exile, ed. Marshall R. Pihl and Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton (Armonk, New York: ME. Sharpe, 1993), p.89>

This conversation takes place between two young men who meet by chance at a bar one winter night in Kim's short story ''Seoul: 1964, Winter!' Readers cannot help but notice that the conversation is completely detached from practical everyday language. It could be called a meaningless word game, and yet our daily conversations do not always serve a practical purpose. Much of the language that people use in their daily lives lacks true meaning. This is why Cleanth Brooks and Robert Penn Wa'rren, literary critics and coauthors of Understanding Poetry (1938), argued that only a very small proportion of the language used in daily conversations serves any practical purpose. Still, in most cases, our daily language has a practical dimension. In short, we take advantage of the practical aspects of language while enjoying its entertaining aspects. Nevertheless, the previous passage consists of a seemingly pointless

exchange. Dialogue for dialogue's sake simply was not written in the 1950s. During that period, language almost always was used to make a point In this respect, the pursuit of amusement through the intentional manipulation of language was, in itself, a challenge to the literary mind-set of the writers of the 1950s. Another important quality of Kim Seung-ok's writing apparent in that dialogue is his almost excessive emphasis on the individual, individualism and individual sensibilities. The conversation implies that a detail, no matter how seemingly insignificant or meaningless, can become one's complete and personal possession as long as it remains unknown to others. It is a confirmation of self as an individual and a reflection of that individual's effort to make an object his or her own. This was a revolutionary phenomenon when one recalls that the literature of the 1~s incorporated the problems of an individual into those of the whole in the name of-war, regarding him or her only as a member of a group or society. In Kim Seung-ok's stories, not only did the focus change from serious iss':'es, such as war, to insignificant issues, such as girls named Mija and piggy banks, but there was also a sweeping conceptual transition From Kim, the reader learned that no matter how insignificant something might seem, it could become one's own after personal confirmation.

A Passionate Curiosity The fundamental force behind Kim Seung-ok's literature is curiosity. At the end of the short story "One Cup of Coffee," the narrator expresses an intense

curiosity and fear about "the countless and unconfirmed days to come." This notion is also found in "Seoul: 1964, Winter." ''You and I are definitely twentyfive, aren't we, Kim hy6ng!' "I definitely amP' "I definitely am, too." He nodded once. ''It frightens me." "What does?" I asked. "That 'something.' ThaL" His voice was like a sigh. "Doesn't it seem we've become old?" ''We're barely twenty-five," I said

Style." He also offers a satirical inspection of Seoul's various faces in "Strong Man" and a comical look at the barrenness of reality in "Fecundity." One invariable characteristic of his work is that his stories are never based on an issue as were the literary works of the 1950s. In Kim's stories, curiosity is detached from a sense of purpose. The curious person moves on ceaselessly. In order to encounter new experiences he or she

and the hometown friend in "A Record of a Journey to Mujin:' Another interesting aspect of Kim's work is that his characters are almost always young, underage mentally and physically. The onlookers in "Heaven" and ''Powerful Is the Goat'' are young children, and the characters in "Seoul: 1964, Winter" are in their twenties. Even when Kim's characters are adults, they seem like adolescents, isolated from the foundations

The story ends with this scene. From readers sense the intense curiosity of the narrator who feels lost in the face of ''the countless and unconfirmed days to come," but at the same time driven to confirm them. This spirited curiosity underlies all of Kim's work Curiosity is a passion that seeks to confirm the ''unconfirmed" and turn it into a personal possession. This curiosity is also portrayed well by the narrator of ''Strong Man" In this story, the narrator spends desperate and hopeless days on the chaotic and poverty-stricken streets of a Seoul teeming with impoverished people. Then, after moving to an upper-class home with a proud family tradition and a sense of order, the narrator comes to confirm various aspects of life. However, he feels strangled in that household and soon longs for the vitality of life among the poor. Most of Kim 's characters are vagabonds. The narrators of "A Record of a Journey to Mujin" and "The Summer I Stole" take trips to confirm the existence of a hometown enveloped in a dense and suffocating fog. The female character in ''Night Journey;' a married woman, wanders the streets at nigh~ hoping to catch a glimpse of life outside the "boundaries" of what is called "morality." The facades masking the reality of corrupt politics or the depravity of social values are exposed by Kim's unceasing curiosity in 'Heaven;' ''Powerful Is the Goat" and "The Sixties' i~

In order to encounter new experiences, Kim Seung-ok's characters look for unfamiliar places, wandering around with ope n eyes. In other words, they have embraced the spirit of the vagabond. looks for unfamiliar places, wandering around with open eyes. In other words, they have embraced the spirit of the vagabond Few of 'his characters have a home or a family, nor do they live a life devoted to the accumulation of secure and stable experiences. If a character does live a stable life, he or she invariably plays an auxiliary role in the story, supporting another character or the protagonist of the story. In some cases, these characters are simply the subject of the narrator's curiosity, as is the case of the old man who symbolizes order and family tradition in ''Strong Man"

of workaday life. From this perspective, Kim Seung-ok's literary journey has been a process of confirming various shocking and surprising aspects of reality after encountering them as ''the countless and unconfirmed" aspects of adult life. A consistent motif in Kim's literature is what many call "initiation:' Kim's task of confirming the "countless and unconfirmed" aspects of adult life is ultimately based on individualism and individual personality. This, of course, means that initiation is also based on individualism and individual personality. + 85

NEWS FROM THE KOREA FOUNDATION

Support for · Korean Studies Programs Abroad

The Korea Foundation Fellowship Programs FEllOWSHIP FOR KOREAN STUDIES

The Korea Foundation offers financial assistance to universities, research institutes and libraries abroad in their efforts to promote the study and understanding of subjects related to Korea. Projects submitted for consideration must be in the fields of the humanities, social sciences or arts and within the categories listed below: 1) Establishment and expansion of Korea-related courses and faculty positions, 2) Fellowships for graduate students or research grants for faculty members, and 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 s~me year. For application forms, program guidelines or further information, please write to:

International Cooperation Department I The Korea Foundation

FEllOWSHIP FOR KOREAN LANGUAGE TRAINING

C PO Box 2147 Seoul, Korea Tel. 82-2-753-3464. Fa x. 82-2-757-2047,2049

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 a major Korean university and will be provided with tuition and a monthly allowance during the grant period. Applicants should complete and submit The Korea Foundation Fellowship for Korean Language Training application form to The Korea Foundation by May j1. 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:

KOREA FOCUS A BIMONTIILY 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. KOREA FOCUS offers a comprehensive view of contemporary Korea in a wide-ranging selection of informative articles on Korea's current affairs. ' In this bimonthly, you will find timely KOREA essays and commentaries on Korea's FOCUS politics, economy, society and culture, opinions on world affairs, and a chronology of recent events in Korea. Published in English and Japanese, _, its articles come from leading publi·~- .... cations in Korea, including major 1~=··-~ daily newspapers, newsmagazines and academic journals.

·-___ ·M-. . ""'·--

International Cooperation Department II The Korea Foundation CPO Box 2147 Se o ul, Korea Tel 82-2-753-6465 Fax. 82-2-757-2047,2049

KEPCO'S TECHNOLOGY REACHES ACROSS THE WORLD Based on KEPCO 's accumulated technology and the international confidence built through its success in providing electricity locally, KEPCO is now expanding its business sphere to the global community. A leader in Korea's business community, KEPCO is laying the foundation for its global operations in the Philippines, China and other countries. Together with its business partners, KEPCO is focusing on the acquisition of overseas projects for the construction of power generation facilities and other related technology activities. KEPCO promises to create the energy to light up to the future . â&#x20AC;˘

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