Koreana Summer 2001 (English) by The Korea Foundation

__,;,._...

BEAUlY OF KOREA

Dotjari

Âˇ ~

On hot summer nights when the humidity stagnates the air, sleep does not come easily. But Koreans of bygone days managed to sleep on such nights by lying on a rush rna~ along with a "bamboo wife," a cylindrical framework of woven bamboo strips, at their side. DotjaJi is a summer mat woven from thin strips of bulrush or rush. The bulrush strips are smooth and cool to the touch, in addition to being absorbent and exuding a distinct Oriental aura. Convenience is another notable feature, as the dotjari can be carried anywhere, and wherever it is spread out, a room is created. Indeed, scholars in the old days were invariably accompanied on outings by young boys whose job was to carry the dot-

jari, such that rooms could be created under a tree, along a river, or wherever they might enjoy their refined hobbies. A dotjari did not simply function as a mat but was also considered a personal belonging of its user. So there was a time when it was taboo for a son to use his father's dotjari, and if someone died at war or far away from home so that the body could not be returned home, the deceased's dotjari would instead be buried. On hot summer nights, lying on a dotjari spread out on the wooden floor of the hallway of a traditional Korean house, with a bamboo wife at your side, sleep can come easily, with all worries forgotten. +

KOREAN ART & CULTURE Cover: A view of the Joint Securit y Area wi thin the DMZ. In this issue KOREAN A takes an in-depth look at the DMZ, the Demilitarized Zone that divides the Korean peninsula into North and South Korea, delving into its past, present and future, its political, social and economic implications, a nd its uniqu e ecological system.

c 0 N

The DMZ: AWorld of Its Own

E N T

4 The Cold War and the DMZ Ahn Byung-ook

The DMZ's Tragic Ruins

Seung Hyo-sang

The Demilitarized Zone, Home to Nature Evolving in an Unforeseen Direction Ham Kwang-bok

DMZ Tour Art Space Korea

33 FOCUS

KOREANA Internet Website http://www.kf.or.kr/koreana

The Historic Launch of Gugak Radio Hahn Myung-hee

38 ÂŠ

The Korea Foundation 2001 All rights reserved . No part of this publication may be reproduced in a ny form without the prior permission o f the Korea Foundation. The opinions expressed by the aud10rs do not necessarily represent those of the editors of KOREANA or the Korea Foun-

dation. KOREANA, registered as a quarterly magazine with the Ministry of Culture and Tourism (Registration No. Ba-1033, dated Aug. 8, 1987), is also published in Chinese and Spanish.

INTERVIEW

The Theater of Cha Bum-suk Kim Moon-hwan

44 TRADITIONAL ARTISAN

Resembling an Ox's Bellow: The Jing Master Kim 11-ung Lee Hyoung-kwon

50 ON THE ROAD

AJourney to Byeonsan Peninsula Kim joo-young

Voll5. No 2 Summer 2001

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THE COLD WAR AND THE

Ahn Byung-ook Professor of Korean History, Catholic University of Korea

. T

he Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), which divides the Korean peninsula into North and South Korea, began as a simple line that was drawn on a map in 1945 at the end of World War II to facilitate the surrender of the Japanese. In a hurried strategy meeting intended to disarm the Japanese as soon as possible, the United States decided in less than half an hour to have Soviet troops accept the surrender of Japanese soldiers north of the 38th parallel and U.S. troops those south of the 38th parallel. The people responsible for making the dividing line did not even attempt to consider natural topographical conditions such as rivers and mountain ranges or administrative units as alternative guidelines for dividing up the country.

From ancient times, the land had been cultivated and barriers created natmÂˇally according to the lifestyle and customs of the people who made it their home. The life of the people came first and the barriers later. But suddenly a line was drawn across a map of Korea at the 38th parallel and like a witch's curse it severed the nation in two, destroying people's lives and separating people of the same ethnicity. As a result of the division of the peninsula, tension and friction escalated and eventually war broke out. After fiercely battling each other for three years, the place where both sides finally laid down their arms was the cease-fire

The signing of the Annistice Treaty in 1953 inside a building at Panrnunjeom.

line. If the 38th parallel is a symbol of insolence created from disregard for life and natural topography, then the ceasefire line represents a place of insane aggression where the two sides faced off while pointing their guns at each other. Looking back, the Europeans have often drawn lines across other people's countries as simply as drawing a line on a piece of paper. Africa was divided up this way, as was the American continent. But it is unthinkable for people's lives to be forcibly disrupted according to a line arbitrarily drawn across a map. The Korean War broke out less than five years after the Korean peninsula had been divided into two at the 38th parallel. The war continued for three years, though cease-fire talks began one year after the start of the war. The initial draft of the cease-fire agreement stated "The fighting will continue until a cease-fire treaty is signed." In other words, the two sides agreed to fight for another year and six months before finally signing the cease-fire agreement. In the four months just prior to signing the cease-fire treaty, 135,000 communist soldiers were killed along with 65,000 U.N. troops. The blood of some 200,000 people was shed on this tiny piece of land. The people who considered even

30 minutes too long to spend in dividing the Korean peninsula at the 38th parallel, dragged out the end of the war for an additional two years, causing great pain and loss of life. It seemed to be a time that existed for the sake of doing battle. The three-year Korean War resulted in more than 4 million casualties and 1.5 million fatalities. What was left was a country cut into two and separated by layers of barbed wire. Both Koreas have deployed massive armaments along the DMZ, which makes up the northernmost boundary of South Korea and the southernmost boundary of North Korea The DMZ, established in accordance with the terms of the truce agreement concluded on July 27, 1953 between the U.N ~ forces and the communist forces, comprises a 2-kilometer-wide strip of land on both sides of the military demarcation line. It was created to serve as buffer zone to prevent further hostility between North and South Korea. Along the DMZ, which extends 250 kilometers from coast-to-coast across the peninsula, 1,300 concrete markers have been placed on the ground at 200-meter intervals. These markers dividing the two Koreas have not been able to sur-

vive the past 50 years, and only traces of them remain in most cases. However, the markers have been like a stake through the heart for most Koreans and even the passing of time has not been able to heal the wound In the middle of the DMZ is the truce village of Panmunjeom, a living symbol of the Cold War. Panmunjeom, which lies like a knob atop a low hill facing the north with a good view of the Sacheon River, a tributary of the Imjin River, is the site of the Joint Security Area. Guarded by soldiers of the Military Armistice Commission from the North and South, it is witness to curious incidents and the ongoing tedious war of words. In the Joint Security Area, which has a radius of no more than 400 meters, the South Korean soldiers bel.onging to

The demarcation line that divides Korea runs through the center of the conference room of the Militaty Armistice Commission building and is represented by the microphone cord laid down the middle of the rectangular conference table (below). This rusted sign at the militaty border is a pathetic witness to the half-century-long division of the country (opposite page).

the U.N. forces guard the demarcation line, facing the North Koreans at very close range. The U.N. soldiers, all over 175 centimeters in height and specialists in martial arts, stand with their helmets pulled down low such that their eyes cannot be seen. In contrast, the North Korean soldiers wear their hats in a way that plainly reveals their faces. Within the ]SA is the conference room of the Military Armistice Commission, a blue building that looks much like an army barracks with no signs or other indicators of identification. The demarcation line that divides Korea into two runs through the center of this building. On the table in the conference room, a line of microphones laid down the middle serves as a continuation of the line. As such, crossing this line means crossing over into North Korea. To freely cross that line is the equivalent of moving freely between North and South Korea, albeit within a very restricted area. Every year, over 100,000 people from South Korea and overseas visit the conference room at Panmunjeom. For these visitors, moving about inside this building straddling the demarcation line holds special meaning for they can step across the demarcation line into North Korea. Given that all exchanges between the two sides, including visits of people, have been totally prohibited since the division of the country 50 years ago until quite recently, this is a novel experience. The Korean situation is completely different from the way the people of East and West Germany could travel back and forth, with permission, before their unification. As it is primarily a place for Armistice Commission meetings and peace talks, Panmunjeom is of a completely different nature than Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin. In addition,

Blissfully tmaware of the painful years of separation for Koreans, the waters of the East Sea are vibrant and clear.

if the demarcation lines of the two countries were to be compared, that of Germany was not much more than a barbed wire fence. Over the years, Panmunjeom has been characterized by confrontation between North and South Korea. But since South Korean student Lim Soogyeong made an unauthorized trip to the North in 1989, crossing the dividing line by way of Panmunjeom, the site has become a venue for a variety of unification-related events. At that time, college students were demonstrating nationwide for an end to the confrontation between the two Koreas and demanding peaceful unification. It was against this backdrop that Lim Soogyeong made her unauthorized trip to North Korea as a representative of a student group. Her actions had notable repercussions in South Korea. In time, today will become the past, the demarcation line between the two halves of the country will become a part of history, and Panmunjeom, which is like a fossil of the Cold War, will remain as a symbol of the past. 10

rr is improper for the world to regard the DMZ, a cursed piece of land soaked with the blood of millions of young people, as an ecological treasure trove. As if to testify to this, the carcass of a rusted old train stands in the DMZ, the water of the Sacheon River has dried up and the land nearby is scarred red and becoming desertified. Contrary to the belief of most people, many of the DMZ's mountains and rivers have been damaged. But where else in the world is there such a land that has suffered so long from the aftermath of war? Another tale of pain embodied in the cease-fire line is the sacrifice made by young Koreans as a consequence of the confrontation between North and South Korea. Young soldiers live for fourmonth intervals in underground bunkers inside the iron fencing of the DMZ, switching night for day, and even having their food supplies carried on a wire. They are then assigned to two months of training in the rear before returning to the DMZ Under their military duty, they must assume the onerous burden of a flawed history. But the

Cheolwon viewed from an observation post in the DMZ.

suffering and sacrifice of these young soldiers cannot be ignored forever. Because of the DMZ, Korea's young men must endure barracks life for two or three years, and through this, the institutionalization of military discipline is realized. Nothing can compensate for the loss of freedom and opportunity for self-development suffered by Korean men at the peak of their youth A place where such things are allowed to happen cannot be called a civiliZed society. According to recent statistics, the post-Korean War population, that is, those born after 1954, accounts for 75 percent of the total population of both North and South Korea. This means that three-quarters of the population of North and South Korea who had nothing to do with the war continue to carry its painful wounds. But even at the DMZ, there is life, love and wonderful scenery. From observation post 717 at the eastern end

of the DMZ, you can see the clear blue East Sea that extends to the horizon beyond the foamy waves, the crescentshaped white sandy beach that separates the sea from the land, the peaks of Guseonbong, shaped like the nine immortals, and Gamho, the clear blue lake beneath Beyond the coast of the Malmuri peninsula sticking out into the sea one can see Samilpo and Haegeumgang, and the beautiful peaks of Mt. Geumgangsan lined up like soldiers in formation. This spectacular view of the northeast pa1t of the DMZ is perhaps all the more striking - for its contrast with the tragic setting marked by barbed wire, observation posts and the demarcation line. Within the DMZ, between the Geumgangsan and Geonbongsan mountain ranges, the Nam River flows from south to north for over 10 kilometers. This river represents an ideal channel for unification advocates to send their thoughts northward. Every April, young salmon are released into the water in front of the wire fencing in the upstream segment of the Nam River. The salmon make their way to the North Pacific before migrating back to the northern reaches of the Nam River _ four years later. This annual release of salmon into the river reflects the sentiments of most ordinary Koreans which . _ stands in stark contrast to the outrageous "Peace Dam" scheme thought up by the military government in 1987, a project that would have blocked off water flowing down from Mt. Geumgangsan. In 1998, a male and a female soldier Âˇ from the North Korean People's Army defected to the South by crossing through the middle of the DMZ. The officer who observed them, said that the two crossed the deadly area booby trapped with mines, and did never let go of each other. Seeking a place where they would be free to love each other, they did not fear even the DMZ, the land of death, covered with mines. By crossing the forbidden land of the DMZ

with love, they sowed seeds of hope in the land of death. The DMZ is the most unique historic site created by humankind in the 20th century. It is a kind of kaleidoscope that offers glimpses of the past half century of history. It is also a land where time has been frozen in its tracks. The 250kilometer cease-fire line is such in name only; in truth it is the place where war has continued for the past 50 years. During the past half century of national division, both North and South Korea have spent more than 30 percent of their annual budget on building up their

In time, today will become the past, the demarcation line between the two halves of thf! country will become a part of history, and Panmunjeom, which is like a fossil of the Cold War, will remain as a symbol of the past.

military strength to defend themselves against the other side, with the DMZ lying between them. How long will such stupidity continue and when will the rupture of our history come to an end? It took 30 minutes to divide Korea into two at the 38th parallel and three years to create the DMZ But now the question is, how long will it take to tear down these barriers? It took half a century for the leaders of North and South Korea to agree to sit down and talk with each other. On June 13-15, 2000, the leaders of the two Koreas held their first historic summit meeting since the division of the Korean peninsula. President of South

Korea Kim Dae-jung and Chairman of the National Defense Commission of North Korea Kim Jong-il began their talks by criticizing the wrongs of history and the political leaders of the past. In addition, Kim Yeong-nam, president of the Supreme People's Assembly, said: "It is now time for the politicians to give the 70 million Koreans in the North and South the answers to the vital questions-when will the confrontation end, and when will we achieve unification?" The two leaders discussed and reached an agreement on significant points regarding: 1) reconciliation between North and South Korea and unification of the country, 2) easing tension and establishing peace on the peninsula, 3) holding reunions of separated families, and 4) promoting exchanges and cooperation in a wide variety of areas including economics, society and "culture. Since then, unprecedented exchanges and cooperation have been taking place on the Korean peninsula under an atmosphere of reconciliation. The DMZ, so tightly sealed off that it seemed even the wind could not pass through, is losing its function of separating the two sides of the country from each other as planes fly overhead and ships go back and forth between the South and North. Meanwhile, the reconnection of the Gyeongu! rail line between the two halves of the country will come to serve as a channel for direct interaction. In the near future, the DMZ will be transformed from a land of the forbidden and death to a land of hope and life, while the military demarcation line will be transformed from a cursed line of despair into a bridge of love and peace. The sight of young Koreans of the future demolishing the DMZ will be even more dramatic than the sight of young Germans tearing down the Berlin Wall with sounds more sublime and resounding than the pounding of hammers. Then, the demarcation line will become a symbol of peace for all humankind. + 11

•

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hy is architecture important to people? One reason is that it satisfies our basic need for shelter, but a more significant factor may be its ability to enrich our life. In essence, architecture is important because it functions as a means for preserving our past, documenting the present, and helping us to dream of the future. This is why architecture is said to be a mirror of the times. But architecture changes in accordance with the times; it does not last forever. What remains permanent, however, is the fact that an architectural structure had once existed in a certain place, as well as the history of that place

W 14

which documents the lives of people. An architectural edifice is where various incidents occur and where culture takes root to become the foundation of a community. Discovering a site is the most important first step for architecture, while its interpretation is the ultimate destination. The site known as the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), which has remained distressingly off limits to Koreans for the last 50 years, is a strip of land over 250 kilometers in length and 4 kilometers in width. This land, including the surrounding areas where civilian access is prohibited, has always been a world of the unknown for me. It is a place of obscure significance, and even a fearful

symbol. But I finally became acquainted with some of its meaning. I recently stood on that piece of forbidden land, and while struggling to contain intense emotions, I repeatedly questioned its significance as a tragic site reduced to rub. ble by the Korean War and left untended until this very day. The former Cheolwon-eup, the site of North Korea's Workers Party building, used to be a stopover located midway along the Gyeongwon Railway that had once linked Seoul and Wonsan. It had flourished as a transportation hub until around the time of Korea's liberation from japanese colonial rule (1945), as the gateway to Mt. Geumgangsan from Seoul. It is extremely difficult to

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imagine its past prosperity from its current state of devastation caused by the Korean War and national division. How much did the city suffer? The ruins of the former Workers Party building are a telling indicator. The Workers Party of North Korea Cheolwon-gun Headquarters was a three-story structure, which had been built on the northern side of the Armistice Line immediately following Korea's liberation from Japan. The county residents made contributions to finance the costs of its construction. The building is said to have housed all kinds of secretive rooms. The floor of the third story is now demolished, but it is not difficult to picture the daily routines

that could have taken place in the past from the fragments of walls remaining of the second floor and ground floor rooms. Moments of smouldering tension no doubt occurred at times in some of the rooms, while other rooms might have borne witness to countless conspiracies and intrigue. The large and small rooms would have been the scenes of fury, frustration and despair. But what is the sense of such speculation and imagination? The past routines have long since been buried by time, leaving only the emptiness in the remaining walls standing as ugly ruins. Because of my work as an architect, I have frequently traveled to other parts of the world at every available oppo1tu-

Inside North Korea's Workers Party building. The floor of the third story is now demolished, but the rooms of the ground floor and the collapsed walls on the second floor testifY to the ravages of war.

nity to observe the records of bygone times. I gain incomparable pleasure from searching out ruins and attempting to imagine the past. Even though a ruin usually imparts a sense of tragedy, I would look over the few remaining traces of the structure and seek to reconstruct the life of people who once used it But I gave up trying to give life to the memories contained within the Workers Party building. Was it due to its short his15

tory .of 50 years, or was it because the tragedy that had taken place on this land? No, it was because the crumbling former building of the Workers Party of North Korea was our reality that I did not want to acknowledge, and because it offered too stark a testimony to that reality. The sight of tranquil barley fields visible through the gaping holes in the walls even felt like a scene from another time. It is difficult to find such remains anywhere else in the world today. The former communist party building is not the only relic on this strip of forbidden land. It is strewn with the rubble of large and small buildings that used to house government agencies, including the Second Financial Cooperative where usurious loans could be gotten during the days of Japanese colonial rule. All are left in the form of ruins, wounds, and relics of recent times. It is a site of architectural remnants that allow selfintrospection and commemoration more profound than any war memorial or monument promoting peace. The loud voices of carefree tourists rescued me from drowning in anguish. I was ending my mission by harboring remorse deep in my heart, while my architectural exploration of the site was approaching a climax. The plains of Cheolwon were much broader than I expected I had not realized that such a vast horizon existed in our national territory. It is said that the site of a palace built by Gungye (r. 901918), the ruler of Latter Goguryeo, still remains within the DMZ, which cuts across the vast plains of Cheolwon. There must be innumerable ruins within the DMZ. Contemplating such thoughts, I went up to the Weoljeong-ri Observation Post and gazed down at the DMZ, whereupon I eyed an extraordinary scene: the barricades traversing the Cheolwon plains. They were a sight to behold-extremely bulky and high concrete barrier walls erected across a broad swath of land to deter incoming tank attacks by North Korean forces as part of the countermeasures to protect 16

against an incursion into South Korea. This was undoubtedly a project of epic proportions. I felt that even the Nazca Lines, mysteriously drawn on the desert plains of Peru, which some scientists believe must have been the work of extraterrestrial beings who laid out runways for their spacecraft, could not hold a candle to these barricades of such mammoth dimensions. The walls even had the appearance of a stratum that had been pushed upward during an upheaval of the earth's surface.

How can the Berlin Wall that divided Âˇ the two Germanys compare with those walls in the DMZ? They are not something to be torn down, even when we are allowed to enter this area in the future. The walls must remain as an eternal symbol of the current era. The walls also reminded me of the concrete remains of hangars at an airfield built by the Japanese, which are still rooted in the fields of Daejeong Village on Jeju Island. How many such painful relics do we have to create on this land? I could

The Woljeong-ri railroad station, the southernmost station of what remains of the Gyeongwon Line (Seoul-Wonsan), is located within the civilian off-limits zone in Paju, Cheolwon-gun.

feel uncontrollable emotions rising ... Only the marvelous scenery beyond the walls, created by marshlands and rare plants, gave me comfort. I then climbed up the steep slopes of the Mt. Gye-ungsan Observation Post. The day was drearily overcast with a drizzling of rain, but the sight I looked upon from atop the mountain took my breath away. I could gaze down onto the expansive area of the DMZ. A vast vista unfolded before me, offering glimpses of majestically rising mountain

peaks here and there, generous stretches of fields and the flowing waters of the Namdaecheoh Stream. It was an exquisite landscape, making me realize afresh just how beautiful Korea is. The military officer who guided me recounted several past incidents of scuffles with North Korean soldiers that had taken place at the site. More moved by the officer's efforts to show me around than by his stories, I was staring at the misty scenery when, to my amazement, I noticed a building on top of a cliff. How

was it possible for a building to have been built in such an inaccessible location? It was a simple building used as a South Korean guard post within the DMZ. Still it seemed to defy description. Although beautiful natural scenery can be an object of appreciation, I do not believe it can arouse such intense soul stirring emotions. Sometimes, nature itself does not convey any particular meaning. But once a place for living is built within that nature, it turns into the foundation of a community and takes on a unique significance. What so moves us is the fact that a building was constructed in such a remote location based on the will of humans to bear witness to life. Even though the structure has to endure an existence of extreme solitude marked by tension and confrontation, by being there, it records our virtues and truthfulness as well as the beauty within the surrounding landscape. This is the essence of culture; no monastery of the Middle Ages could convey such a painful beauty. The distinguished architect Louis Kahn was once inspired to remark that we sometimes come to see the truth with clarity when on an island or in the mountains. He said that leaving such a place behind for a city can signar a new start, and allow one to acquire a renewed belief in life. Indeed, I began to start anew after returning to Seoul, and I would not be the only one to do so. The Demilitarized Zone, a relic of modern times born out of the contradictions of our times, is a new point of departure for us, we who could not shake off the fetters of our tragic history. I have no doubt that it will become an impot1ant foundation for the future of the Korean nation. + 17

been happening within this belt?" The kind of weaponry and the number of - soldiers that might be deployed along the DMZ are confidential information involving national security. But one is free to imagine the state of nature within the zone; tall grass and trees thriving in lush splendor, birds and fish reveling in unrestricted freedom, and all manner of wildlife flourishing in this haven safe from their most feared enemy-human beings. The DMZ and the CCL were not established for the benefit of nature, but to deter war. Yet the two zones have effectively prohibited humans from interfering with the nature within. One might imagine Mother Nature thinking: "Humans brought destruction upon themselves by engaging in war and they are now trying to make up for this damage by letting nature be, shielding it against even the slightest human intervention." Contrary to popular belief, however, this is mostly fantasy. A primitive, virgin forest untouched by human hands does not exist in the DMZ One thing that I have found intriguing ever since I statted reporting on the DMZ in 1978 is that its natural environment does not seem to be aging. I even thought that the trees were actually shrinking in some places. In other places, where I could have sworn there used to be valleys teeming with rare species of fish, such as Oncorhynchus masou Ishikawa and Moroco Kumgangensis Uchida, the species of fish had vanished when I returned several years later. At first, I thought that my memory was at fault and I was confused about their location. But an ecologist told me that my observations were accurate. ''Ecological succession is constantly taking place within the DMZ or else the succession process itself suffers from interference," the scientist claimed. He explained that the forests in the DMZ and in the surrounding areas

The Demilitarized Zone in winter with the long-unused railroad tracks clearly visible. 20

were existing as disclimax forests where ecological succession has been interrupted. That is to say, something has seriously disrupted nature's natural process by causing it stress. But exactly who or what? First of all, the forests in the DMZ suffered much from the ravages of war. People used to live in the vicinity of the DMZ before the outbreak of the Korean War; within the zone there were some 70 villages. The villages were mostly farming communities that utilized traditional Korean fanning methods to cultivate farmlands not only in the fields and valleys but alongside mountain slopes as well. The trees in the forests nearby the villages also provided a ready supply of fuel for Korea's traditional under-floor heating system. Then the Korean War proceeded to destroy the natural environment of the area with wanton violence. The Korean War, which broke out on June 25, 1950, ended 37 months and 2 days later. The DMZ was the battleground for two-thirds of the fighting

during the war, which extensively devastated the area's forests and farmlands. Moreover, the DMZ battles were characterized by each side fighting fiercely to gain control of the highlands or mountain areas. Due to this battlefield tactic, the animals living in the forests on the slopes of mountains were all sacrificed and even the trees and animals that escaped from direct harm ended up with a totally desolated habitat The war left both nature and people thoroughly spent. The natural environment of the DMZ was seriously wounded but it somehow managed to survive the war. It takes 150 to 200 years for devastated forests in temperate zones to develop into climax forests. The environment of the DMZ, extensively laid to waste by war1.'was comparable to a patient lying in ICU after undergoing life-threatening surgery. Second, a surprisingly high population density is affecting the environmental condition of the DMZ It is a mistake to equate the population of the areas

around the DMZ to the officially announced numbers. Since disclosing the actual number of soldiers deployed nearby the border would be detrimental to national security, troops are regarded as a "hidden population." The county of Hwacheon-gun, Gangwon-do province, which is 909.45 square kilometers in area, borders the DMZ Population statistics as of the end of 1999 indicate 8,813 households with a population of 25,943 (13,352 male, 12,591 female), and a population density of 28.5 per square kilometer. Although this is the second-lowest population density in South Korea, only civilians were counted; it is difficult to know what the actual population, including members of the armed forces, amounts to. But at least one thing is dear-people look at the low population density based on the official population statistics and believe that the natural environment in the DMZ must be far less affected by humans than other areas. Third, there is the fact that the war is not yet over in the DMZ, the buffer zone

which South and North Korea established by each retreating 2 kilometers frqm the MDL. Item 6, Article 1 of the Armistice Agreement stipulates: "Neither side shall execute any hostile act within, from, or against the Demilitarized Zone;' but this regulation was rendered useless beginning in 1960. The entire length of the DMZ was turned into a virtual fortress while the distance between opposing forces gradually narrowed as the two sides started to break their promise to withdraw 2 kilometers from the MDL. In fac~ the Demilitarized Zone was actually transformed into a "Heavily Militarized Zone," another battlefield. This modern day confrontation also employed a classic military tactic from ancient China that involved burning up all the plant life that could obscure one's vision from mid-February until May each year. Nineteen fires broke out in the DMZ in 2000 because of this practice, which was responsible for burning 371 square kilometers of fares~ or 40 percent of the overall area of the DMZ

The two sides have also unleashed "chemical warfare" in this war against trees and plants. The DMZ's environment was subjected to concentrated showers of deadly defoliants, such as Agent Orange, Agent Blue arid Monuron from 1968-69. It is only now that people are gradually awakening to the fact that these chemical agents, which are so lethal that they even shrivel the roots of plantlife, must have wreaked such great havoc on the DMZ's ecosystem at that time. It was only when not just the peer ple who had been within the DMZ at the time when these herbicides were being sprayed, but also their offspring, who had never set foot in the zone, experienced side-effects that it becam:e apparent tpe wildlife within the DMZ must have. suffered from even more serious consequences. One qm easily imagine the suffering the wild animals must experience due to the landl1lines in the DMZ, which are eStimated Âˇto number 1 million. Whereas humans are aware of the dangers of

these mines, innocent animals are certain to be maimed repeatedly by these savage devices of humankind. Consequently, the environment of the DMZ not only sustained countless wounds during the Korean War but has also continued to suffer from the effects of the Cold War that has persisted for half a century. Tall trees have stopped growing and burnt forests have been replaced by grassland. The animals that sought shelter from humans in the forests became victims of landmines, while herbicides afflicted the animals that managed to survive among the mines. In particular, the DMZ's ecosystem has not evolved in a natural manner. There is a good likelihood that the plants

Forest fire is a chronic hazard in the area :is can be seen from the charred trees in the East Front region (opposite page). The entire area of the DMZ has been turned into a fortress with military roads crisscrossing the steep hills (below).

and animals there which learned to adapt to the stress of the Cold War, have since produced entirely new and unintended deviations in the natural ecosystem. It is certain that they are evolving in directions which we have not anticipated, as evidenced by the following examples. Within the forests where landmines are scattered about with red warning signs, white flowers resembling butterflies which give off a heavy aroma come into full bloom each spring. These are acacia trees (Robinia pseudo Acacia L.), which were introduced to Korea in the early 20th century to restore wastelands. Despite their various uses, Koreans soon came to loathe acacia trees because their rapid proliferation could quickly crowd out other trees in the area. No one would have gone into the forests of the DMZ to plant these trees, not when countless mines lie in wait for their next victim. As if enjoying the freedom from humans the mines provided, acacia trees soon enough overtook the forests.

--<,

Koreans are not very familiar with hog weed, a creeping, perennial herb. The herb originated in North America, but it also thrives in Manchuria. No Korean had ever seen this weed, which grows from 1 centimeter to 3 centimeters a year, in the country before the Korean War. But if each and every hog weed plant growing in the vicinity of the DMZ were counted, one would find that no other plant in Korea has managed to multiply as fruitfully as the hog weed. Research conducted in 2000 by the Gyeonggi Development Institute on the natural ecosystem of the upper estuary of the Hantangang River revealed that the giant hog weed (Ambrosia trifida L.) and common hog Âˇ weed (Amqrosia artemisiifolia) comprised the densest communities among the 37 types of tracheophytes growing in the area. Moreover, this coarse annual herb produces extremely harmful pollen which can cause allergies, splenitis, hay fever, and eye ailments, and has been designated a species harmful to the

ecosystem in June 1999. It is a ruthless conqueror of botanical ecosystems as it secretes an acidic discharge that kills off native plants and insects. It also reproduces at an alarming rate even in contaminated soil. It is reasonable to assume that it landed on the peninsula along with war supplies during the Korean War. The human war may have ended 50 years ago but the hog weed is still waging a fierce battle to expand its realm by overwhelming the area's indigenous plants. This war of plants is continuing unabated. Consider the case of dandelions, the wild flowers that grow along roadsides where they are often trampled underfoot. These flowers are not usually found at high altitudes. But on the summit of Mt. Dae-amsan, which rises 1,300 meters above sea level, is a sea of dandelions as large ~ a soccer field . They are tall dandelions of Western origin. Like air-borne troops, these flowers have managed to scale their way up to the top of the mountain, where they captured the territory of native alpine flora and built their own kingdom. The DMZ is home to 97 species of foreign origin that immigrated to the nation, including the Chinese chrysanthemum, giant golden rod (Solidago serotina Ait.), annual fleabane (Erigeron annuus), and evening primrose. Then there are the black vultures. Though they are often called the "Lords of the Sky," they also are known by the not-so-honorable name of "scavenger" for their penchant for picking over the ~ carcasses of animals and birds. But the . black vultures of the DMZ are deserv"' ing of another name: "free-falling birds." R On December 14, 1993, the day that black vultures were sighted in Hwacheon, Gangwon-do, marked their return to Korea's East Coast after a 12year hiatus. But their debut in the DMZ turned out to be an abysmal failure, as they ended up dehydrated and starved, despite their 2-meter wingspan, sharp eyes, piercing beak, and powerful legs and talons. That December numerous

Residents nearby the DMZ take photographs of a black vulture that was captured because it was too fatigued from its long migratory flight (above). Nursing the starving and exhausted black vultures until they can return to nature has become an annual rite of residents along the DMZ (right).

black vultures fell from the sky like stones onto the DMZ with several exhausted black vultures on the verge of death being discovered in various places. One farmer, who was driving a tractor in Cheolwon, found a black vulture standing like a traffic cop in the middle of an intersection and carried it back home. At that time, a widespread civic movement for animal protection had already taken root in Korea. Without exception, these "fallen black vultures" were painstakingly nursed back to health, while dining on chicken, fish and pork to their hearts' content, - and were then returned to the wild. Could they have possibly spread the , word about this warm hospitality back in their "kingdom of black vultures?" For some reason, the DMZ has since become one of the most popular stop' ping-off sites for black vultures that apparently fly in from Mongolia in the winter. The National Institute of Environmental Research recently Âˇ announced that at least 837 black vultures were estimated to be spending the winter in areas near the DMZ in January 2001. By area, 300 were discovered passing the winter in the vicinity of Duji-ri, Jeokseong-myeon, Paju-si, _ Gyeonggi-clo; 227 near Togyo Reservoir in Cheolwon-eup, Cheolwon-gun, Gangwon-do; and 170 in Hyeon-ri, --<- Bangsan-myeon, Yanggu-gun, Gangwon -do. In some cases, development projects have attracted migratory birds. In the past, a lake in Pyeonggang Heights in North Korea was used to irrigate the plains of Cheolwon. With the division of the Korean peninsula, however, the southward flow of the waterway was blocked off. Farmers then remembered a deep valley in the DMZ, which was called Heukdari, "Earthen Bridge," in the past. The farmers built a dam resembling an earthen bridge and created a huge lake named Togyo Reservoir and a waterway to the plains. This lake adjoins the DMZ and civilian access is thus prohibited. Only a handful of people who

manage the lake know about its actual appearance and depth. But migratory birds from as faraway as Siberia have discovered the lake. Each winter, the lake serves as a rest stop for geese, mallard, and teal that fly in from northern regions. In the pas~ migratory geese flew high overhead in a V-shaped formation, without bothering to stop off at the Cheolwon plain. When the MBC TV network aired a documentary program about the environment of the DMZ in March 2000, the sight of nimble antelopes falling prey to wild cats intrigued many viewers. In this case, most of these wild cats were originally household pets but have since become feral. Viewers wondered how feral cats c ~ mld be running amok in the DMZ wh~n there are no households nearby. J?ut in fact, the DMZ's animal ecosyste_l)l, whose food chain became disrupted after the disappearance of larger species, is one where herbivorous animals reign as king. The feral cats are passing themselves off as one of the

strongest resident species, as if to prove that "cats are the king in a world where there are no tigers." The reason for the large number of feral cats lies in the extraordinary adaptability of mice that allows them to live virtually everywhere, as well as their prodigious reproductive capability that enables them to breed anywhere between the temperatures of -4 to 60 degrees Celsius. It is highly likely that the cats currently running wild in the DMZ are the offspring of pets that soldiers raised to control the mouse population that gnawed on their equipment and food. Korea's disease-prevention officials experimented with bait sprayed with rabies vaccine in areas around the DMZ in early spring this year. Bait with rabies vaccine was dropped onto mountainous regions from an airplane, and distrb~e in areas with concentrated wildlife populations, in an effort to establish a 10kilometer rabies-free zone. Rabies is already prevalent in the vicinity of the DMZ. In the Yeoncheon, Pocheon,

A wild pigeon rests on barbed wire along the military border (above). The writer looks over an exhausted black vulture (left).

-"I,

From the top: Manchurian cranes stroll across a spacious Cheolwon field which is an ideal feeding grmmd fur migratory cranes; Flocks ofwhite-naped cranes in the DMZ; Children and soldiers join together to scatter feed for the migratory birds at the Cheolwon plain, a major migratory stop.

Dongducheon, Gapyeong, Cheolw on, Hwacheon, Yanggu, Inje and Goseong areas that cut across the Korean peninsula from west to east along the DMZ, cases of rabies have been reported. The most recent rabies epidemic occurred in South Korea in 1987. On September 18, 1993, an eight-year-old dog owned by a farmer in Oji-ri, Dongsong-eup, Cheolwon-gun, caught and killed a badger. The fact that this badger had confronted the dog was curious in that badgers almost never venture down to farms. One month later, the dog displayed classic symptoms of rabies and died. The diseaseprevention officials immediately suspected the badger of being infected with the rabies virus, which was transmitted to the dog during their struggle. Eight years later, the authorities concluded that such wild animals as badgers and raccoons in the vicinity of the DMZ were carriers of the rabies virus, and thus decided to try bait vaccine. The DMZ is a breeding ground for malaria as well, which is spread by malaria-infected mosquitoes. Malaria had vanished from

Korea following the outbreak of an epidemic in 1966, then surfaced again in the summer of 1993, when several soldiers and civilians in Paju and Gimpo contracted the disease. Since then, it has invariably afflicted victims each summer in the areas nearby the DMZ A series of incidents that sounded an alarm about the nation's health care in 1993 also led to thoughts of the threat posed by hemorrhagic fever that continues to plague so many people since it claimed its first victims-U.N. troops-near the Hantangang River during the Korean War. Records indicate that about 3,000 U.N. _soldiers suffered from this disease from the autumn of 1951 until July 1953. In the beginning, no one knew what caused the disease, which came to be called goejil, "disease of unknown cause." Doctors from the United Sates were flown in to study this mysterious disease aboard a hospital ship on the West Sea. But their efforts were inconclusive, other than to dub it "Korean-style hemorrhagic fever." Then in 1986, a Korean biologist discovered that rats were the

. cause of the disease. Rats spread the virus, that is contained in their organs, through saliva, urine and other bodily discharge, which is spread to fields and open areas via airborne transmission, and finally infects people who come into contact with infected areas. The virus came to be called "Hantan virus" after the river in 1981, while a vaccine . _ was also developed. Korea's DMZ had aided in the triumph over the "mysterious disease" that had so tormented people ever since epidemics swept through Manchuria in the 1940s, and Japan in the 1960s, as well as outbreaks in Sweden, Finland, and Denmark Even today, the DMZ is no doubt serving as a laboratory for another scientific breakthrough. Despite the abnormal evolution of the environment of the DMZ, ecologists are finding and announcing amazing discoveries. In March, the Korea Forest Research Institute, affiliated with the Korea Forest Service announced the results of an extensive study. The institute discovered a heretofore undocumented species within the DMZ and its

surrounding areas, nine species previously unrecorded in Korea, 88 rare species, 48 special species and 6 species designated Natural Monuments-accounting for well over 100 species of animals and plants deserving protection. A type of mushroom as yet not found in any other part of the world was discovered on Mt. Geonbongsan on the East Coast, and was featured in National Geographic. In addition, a cluster of rare Edelweiss was also found growing on Hyangnobong Peak, as well as fireweed (Epilobium angustifolium), which had been previously thought to exist only on Mt. Baekdusan. The existence of the beetle Chromogeotrupes auratus Motschulsky, which feeds on the excretion of antelopes or musk deer, was also confirmed, as well as the presence of the autogenous wild iris (Iris setosa), previously not known to be growing in South Korea. The results of the five-year research were lauded for their detailed documentation of the natural environment of the DMZ The report also contains the following: "Due to the influ-

Chinese mergansers relax at Namdaecheon Stream (top). A replica of a wooden grave marker, or bimok, on an old battlefield, erected dwing the Bimok Festival at the Peace Dam, inspired by the popular song of the same name (above).

Echinosophora is a plant native to Korea fonnd only in theYanggu area of Gangwon-do province (top). Though not large in size, primeval forests nntouched by man are occasionally fonnd in the rugged monntain areas east of the DMZ (above). A golden eagle resting by the Suipcheon River in Yanggu, Gangwon-do province (below).

ence of forest fires or the construction of roads for military use, the density of trees growing in the research areas was found to be only half the average in Korea, while there was serious soil erosion in many places. Accordingly, it should be pointed out that protective measures should precede any further studies on the ecology of the entire area of the DMZ and the implementation of preservation measures." The report confirms that the lush forests that we had imagined do not actually exist in the DMZ The report also emphasizes two points. First, the 100 or so species of animals and plants deserving of protection are treasures unique to the DMZ that have just barely managed to survive, and which are at risk of being foreyer lost as the DMZ undergoes a process of adapting to a new environment Second, it warns against harboring any "fantasy" about the DMZ's natural ecosystem. Studies on the DMZ's natural environment have been carried out steadily since the Korean Research

Institute for Conservation of Nature (predecessor to the current Korean Association for Conservation of Nature) and the U.S.-based Smithsonian Institution conducted a two-year academic study in 1966. Another 10 large-scale studies have been undertaken with financial support from the government and various academic institutions. But the report by the Korea Forest Research Institute is the first to sound a warning about the extensive destruction of the DMZ's environment For whatever reason, the scholars who have studied the DMZ's natural ecosystem have seemingly turned a blind eye to its state of devastation. A good example is the wetland area on Mt Daeryeongsan in the midwest part of the DMZ, which is under the protection of the Ramsar Convention. On the top of this mountain, which rises 1,300 meters above sea level, is a plateau of 7.78 acres in area. Before this plateau attracted the interest of scholars, it used to be called Yongneup, "Dragon

Swamp." Scholars estimated the swamp to be about 4,500 years old, and found that it was home to 23 species of insects, including the 0Iiental Grapholita demorpha fruit moth, Pyrocoelia rufa Olivier firefly, and ladybugs, and 191 species of plants, such as Gentiana jamesii. Wetlands are highly valued for their academic significance because they provide the means to study changes to the natural ecosystem or climate which have occurred over the course of thousands of years. The swamp, a 2-meter. thick peat bog, also retains the secrets of the area's natural ecosystem as though recorded on microfilm. But this swamp, regarded as the greatest natural treasure of the DMZ, had already been suffering from almost lethal deterioration for some time when it was registered under the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands on March 28, 1997. When I went to the swamp for the third time in 1986, the Large Dragon Swamp and the Small Dragon Swamp could be seen nestling side by side, like a vast green carpet. By

the time I made my fourth visit in 1991, however, the Small Dragon Swamp was vanishing as it was slowly drying up, while a large pit had formed in the middle of the Large Dragon Swamp. During my fifth visit in 1992, the Small Dragon Swamp had disappeared altogether without a trace, while willow and maple trees were encroaching along the western edge of the Large Dragon Swamp. There are no virgin forests in Korea's DMZ. There is only a unique natural environment, which has been adapting to the stress caused by the Korean War and the subsequent Cold War that has persisted for half a century. In essence, the environment is existing in an entirely "unanticipated" state as the final relic of the Cold W~r from the 20th century. This relic of the Cold War may well be saying: ,''What is most frightening on earth is pot war but the technology humans developed to tamper with nature. However, had it not been for the DMZ, we could not have even been in the state we are today." +

The small pond of Yongneup (Dragon Swamp) of Mt. Dae-amsan is a fuscinating site for ecobiologists (above). An eagle owl (below)

Art Space Korea

ith the collapse of the Berlin Wall in November 1989, the Korean peninsula became the world's last site of Cold War confrontation. The Military Demarcation Line (MDL) dividing the two Koreas (from west to east) starts from Gyodong Island at the mouth of the Yeseonggang and Hangang rivers, 'passes through Panmunjeom, which is south of Gaeseong, traverses Cheolwon and Geumhwa, and finally reaches Myeongho-ri, Goseong on the East Coast The truce line extends over a distance of 248 kilometers across the middle of the Korean peninsula. The Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) comprises a 2-kilometer-wide buffer zone on both sides of the MDL Most of the DMZ involves a width of 4 kilometers, but widens to 13 or 14 kilometers in some places, and in other places, a mere 1.2 kilometers separates the observation posts south and north of the demarcation line. The DMZ has been a source of keen interest for many people as a symbol of the suffering and pain that the Korean people have endured since the Military Armistice Agreement was signed in 1953. The areas bordering the DMZ are a popular tourist attraction as the remaining flash point of the Cold War. This article introduces various destinations along the

W Âˇ-

Parununjeom is lmown as the JSA by the U.N. and North Korean soldiers. 30

DMZ that tourists might be interested in seeing.

Panmunjeom P"!Jlffiunjeom is the "truce village" that straddles the border between North and South Korea in the middle of the DMZ This restricted area, measuring only 800 meters in length and width, has been designated the Joint Security Area (JSA) by the United Nations and the North Korean sides. It is a special zone not under the administrative jurisdiction of either N01th or South Korea. The venue of the cease-fire conference that ended the Korean War hostilities was originally located about 1 kilometer north of Panmunjeom, but the truce village was subsequently relocated astride the MDL after the two Koreas

signed the armistice agreement. At the center of Panmunjeom is the Neutral Nations Supervisory Committee conference room and the main conference room of the Military Armistice Commission, which are used to hold various meetings as well as to .exchange communications and correspondence between the liaison officers of the U.N. and North Korean sides. The main buildings used by the two Koreas within Panmunjeom are the Freedom House in the southern sector and Panmungak in the northern sector. The Freedom House is a two-story building with an observatory in the shape of an octagonal pavilion-a traditional Korean architectural form--;-positioned at its center and extension wings on two sides. On the northern side of

the MDL, Panmungak is a rectangular two-story building with a balcony in frOftt Behind the Freedom House and Panmungak, which face each other across the MDL, is the House of Peace on the U.N. side and Tongilgak, or Unification Pavilion, on the North Korean side, which the two sides built to serve as meeting places. The House of Peace is about 130 meters southwest of the Freedom House. Tongilgak was completed in August 1985, and is situated 100 meters northwest of Panmungak. A rectangular conference table within the Military Armistice Commission conference room is positioned directly over the MDL running through the ]SA. The microphone wire that bisects the conference table is officially recognized as the national border, with the flags of the U.N. and North Korea being displayed Âˇ on their respective side. Outside the conference building, the MDL is delineated by cement markers 5 centimeters in height and 50 centimeters in width. Beyond the building area, 1-meter-high white posts placed at 10-meter intervals mark the line. Visible from the observatory next to Guardpost No. 5 on the southern side is the river Sacheongang, which forms a boundary on the western side of Panmunjeom as it flows from north to

south. Across this river is the Bridge of No Return, built adjacent to a road linking Panmunjeom with Gaeseong in North Korea. This bridge was used to exchange prisoners of war after the 1953 armistice agreement. The bridge was so named because there was no turning back for prisoners of war once they decided to cross over the bridge into ~uth or North Korea

DaeseongÂˇdong Village and Gijeong-dong Village There are two heavily protected villages within the DMZ, one in the north and one in the south, which face each other across heavily mined fields. The villages can be seen by tourists from afar, but a1 ~ e off-limits for visiting. The Freedom Village in Daeseong-dong on the southern side of the DMZ is home to residents who had been living there

before the outbreak of the Korean War. About 230 residents make up this farming community. On the northern side of the DMZ, Gijeong-dong Village is situated 1.8 kilometers away from Daeseong-dong Village. However, this is a propaganda village built by the North. There are no civilian residents in this village, which is occupied by surveillance troops. At the village entrance, a North Korean flag, said to be the largest in the world, hangs from a 160-meter-high support structure.

lmjingak About 50 kilometers northwest of Seoul is Irnjingak at the northern end of Tongillo, or Unification Road, which is as far north as civilians can freely travel in this part of South Korea. Imjingak is a concrete three-story building wit~ a floor area of 2,409 square meters. Imjingak was modeled after Gyeonghoeru, a two-story pa viii on on the grounds of Gyeongbokgung Palace in Seoul. In early January every year, South Korean residents who are originally from North Korea hold a ceremony here to console their yearning for their hometowns and to wish for reunification. They also conduct a Confucian rite on Chuseok (Harvest Moon Festival, the 15th day of the 8th lunar month) to honor their ancestors. Imjingak features exhibits of tanks and fighter planes, which were used during the Korean War, while visitors can enjoy a view of North Korea from the observatory. There is also an inscription that reads, "The train that wants to run," in reference to the now severed Gyeongui Railway that used to link the two Koreas. Imjingak is 449 kilometers from Sinuiju, 214 kilometers from Pyeongyang, 491 kilometers from Busan, and 214 kilometers from Daejeon. The trains are still awaiting

Imjingak Pavilion at the northernmost end of Tongillo Road (above). A view of Daeseong-dong Village (left) 31

times see people in the North Korean farming village of Geumangol and young boys undergoing military training at an elementary school.

reunification so that they will again be able to operate on the 940-kilometer railway linking Busan with Sinuiju in North Korea. Also at Imjingak is Mangbaedan, an altar where displaced North Koreans gather to perform a joint Confucian ancestral rite on Chuseok and New Year's Day each year. The altar looks out over Freedom Bridge, the only bridge across the Imjingang River that 13,000 prisoners of war crossed over shouting ''For freedom!" after the signing of the Armistice Agreement in 1953. Unification ÂˇPark is located at the entrance to Munsan on Tongillo. Within the park are the Unification Pond, shaped like the Korean peninsula, and the Peace Bell, both reminders of the tragedy of national division.

Mt. Odusan Unification Observatory The Unification Observatory on Mt. Odusan is about a 30-minute drive from Seoul via Jayuro, or Freedom Road The observatory is built atop Odusan ÂˇFortress, which is noted for its picturesque view of the junction of the Hangang River flowing from the south and the Imjingang River flowing from the north The Unification Observatory is a five-story stone structure with a basement, situated on a parcel of land covering about 21,450 square meters. It is possible to see Mt. Songhaksan in Gaeseong, North Korea, and the 63 Building in Seoul, South Korea from the rotunda of the observatory. On the first and second floors of the exhibition hall are a North Korea Room and Unification Room, which display a wide variety of exhibits on the past and present of interKorean relations, the status of North Korea, and a vision of a reunified Korea. The Third Tunnel and Dora Observatory The Third Tunnel, located in Jeomwon-ri, Gunnae-myeon, Paju City, which North Korea apparently dug for the purpose of invading South Korea, is 32

Daeseong-dong, better known as "Freedom Village," located on the southern side of the Demilitarized Zone.

a 2 meter by 2 meter tunnel lying 73 meters below the surface. Extending for a total distance of 1,635 meters, it ends up 435 meters on the southern side of the MDL. An estimated 10,000 fully armed military personnel per hour could pass through this tunnel, and up to 30,000 unarmed personnel It is located 12 kilometers from Munsan and 52 kilometers from Seoul. Dora Observatory is the northernmost observatory in South Korea, from where you can catch a glimpse of the life of North Korean residents. This is the only place in South Korea from where Gaeseong, the second largest city in North Korea, is clearly visible. Through binoculars, visitors can some-

Iron Triangle Observatory and Baengmagoji War Memorial The Iron Triangle Observatory is located across from Weoljeong-ri Station, the last stop on the northern segment of the Gyeongwon Railway, which continues on to Mt. Geumgang. From the observatory, visitors can look through binoculars at the propaganda village Pyeonggang Highland in North Korea, Kim ll-sung Hi!~ and a mountain ridge dubbed ''Ridgeline of Blood," as well as the DMZ A fierce battle raged for ten days on Baengma Highland, resulting in one of the bloodiest battles during the Korean War, after the Chinese Army launched a major offensive on October 6, 1952 More than 300,000 artillery shells were fired wllile control of the highland is said to have changed hands 24 times during the back-and-forth fighting. The mountain lost much of its original shape from the relentless onslaught of artillery fire, and came to resemble a white horse lying down, which led to its being called Baengma, or White Horse Highland. A monument was erected in Dongsongeup, Cheolwon-gun, in memory of the soldiers of the 9th Division of the South Korean Army who fought to the death to defend this highland Eulji Observatory an~ Goseong Unification Observatory Eulji Observatory is located at the forefront of the DMZ at an altitude of 1,049 meters above sea level. It offers a view of the four peaks of Mt. Geumgang, including Birobong Peak, as well as North Korean military guards, and laborers working on farms. Areas of North Korea and Mt. Geumgang are also visible from the Goseong Unification Observatory, located at the northern tip of South Korea along the eastern end of the armistice line. +

FOCUS

THE HISTORIC LAUNCH OF

GugakRadio Hahn Myung-hee Professor of Music, University of Seoul

n March 2, 2001, the first-ever public radio station specializing in g ugak, traditional Korean music, was launched, marking a memorable milestone for Korea's culture and arts. In 1997, the National Center for Korean ' Traditional Performing Arts conducted a survey to gauge puplic interest in such a station, with the findings being developed into the basic justification for pursuing this project. The following year, the center submit-

ted plans for undertaking this effort to the relevant government agencies, in response to which the administration soon incorporated the traditional music station proposal as part of its "People's Govern ment's New Cultural Policy Projects." Numerous obstacles had to be overcome along the way, but finally on January 8, 1999, the Ministry of Culture and Tot)rism recommended that a license be issued to this new station, while on January 11, 2000, the Ministry of Information and Communica tion

approved the operation of an FM radio station for gugak. The factors behind the difficulty of this process included the limited availability of radio broadcast frequencies under the present analog transmission system, and the fact that the government, caught in the midst of c0stly structural reforms, did not have the funds to support culture and the arts. Despite these adverse circumstances, the Gugak FM radio station was successfully launched, with programming being broadcast in the Seoul and Gyeonggi-do

The National Center for Korean Traditional Perfonning Arts opened a new era in Korean music and radio by launching the first-ever public radio station specializing in traditional Korean music on March 2. 33

The studio of the gugak station on the second floor of the National Center for Korean Traditional Performing Arts.

areas at 99.1 MHz Its broadcasts can also be heard across the Jeolla-do region through a link with the Namwon Center for Korean Traditional Performing Arts. Overseas broadcasting will also be possible in the future, through the audio transmission channels of the Mugunghwa satellite. A traditional music radio station of this ambitious scale was possible because of the unprecedented interest and enthusiasm among the public for traditional Korean music and arts. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the launch of this gugak station goes far beyond simply adding another radio channel, but rather is a reflection of today's cultural trends in Korea. Accordingly, this occasion marks the anticipated culmination of a series of events put into motion by Korea's art and culture circles during the late 20th century. This will definitely be significant in properly understanding the cultural environment and social thought of Korean society in the late 20th century. The sociocultural sttucture of Korea in the late 20th century can be said to have fallen into a perverse state, with everything seemingly turned upside down, or out of place. From a broad perspective, Korean society had for sometime maintained a dichotomy between traditional culture and Western culture, but this conflicting structure soon lost its balance, tilting drastically toward Westernized culture. Western values 34

were pursued blindly while traditional virtues quickly became something to be discarded or degraded. During these impulsive times, a large number of precious relics disappeared, while respectable values and traditions being destroyed or dimirlished. A perverse cultural scene took over Korean society. In all aspects of education and everyday life, Western culture became the only yardstick, the only alternative, the only ideal. Western painting was the preferred art form, ballet the preferred dance form , and Western music, not Korean, the preferred music form. Studying traditional Korean music was something to be

embarrassed about, and was even the subject of ridicule. But as is the case in history, there are ups and downs as well as advances and setbacks in a society. As we moved into the late 20th century, signs of a new awakening emerged in Korean society. There was a widespread renewal of appreciation for our own traditional culture. We began to open our eyes to the pleasure, familiarity and affection that traditional culture stirs in us, together with the novelty of Western culture's sophistication and rationale. In other words, the Korean people were finally able to nurture a sense of cultural bal-

ance to take advantage of both Western culture and our own, thereby developing a pluralistic outlook The number of institutions that teach music at the college level exceeds 100, but until recently they only taught Western music; however, with this shift in attitude, over 20 schools have since begun to offer courses on Korean music. The rapid growth in private institutes providing instruction in Korean music was also indicative of the noticeable change in the way we perceived our tradition. Meanwhile, hundreds of clubs dedicated to Korea's traditional performing arts such as samulnori (percussion quartet) and mask dance

opened on school campuses around the country, while avid learners from a wide range of age groups and all manner of occupations lined up to get into classes offered at the National Center for Korean Traditional Performing Arts, all of this confir~g the cultural transformation taking place throughout Korean society This growing interest in traditional culture helped make possible a project as challenging as the launch of the Gugak FM radio station, which is why this occasion is not just another event within the broadcasting and music circles but a historic milestone of far-reaching signifi-

cance. In particular, the commencement of this station is the fruit of the public's renewed appreciation of the value of our traditional culture. It is also a fitting triumph of our struggle to overcome the irrationality and imbalance of a distorted cultural environment. We now live in an era of internationalization and globalization. The true meaning of internationalization does not involve standardizing or homogenizing the world within a single box; it does not advocate simply accepting and becoming subordinate to the culture of others. Internationalization in the true sense involves strengthening and highlighting one's individual traits. The true identity and purpose of internationalization lies in its promotion of the coexistence of divergent cultures and harmonious balance of pluralistic values. For this reason, the more the world becomes globalized, the more we need to promote and maintain individual ethnic cultures. Taking this into consideration, the launch. of the gugak radio station involves even greater implications than one might initially imagine. Given the vast potential influence of the broadcast media, the new station can have an unprecedented impact on the cultural scene. Such influence will no doubt advance the promotion of traditional culture while helping to introduce Korean culture to the world. In this regard, the launch of the gugak station could not be more timely. The presence of the gugak radio 35

The true identity and purpose of internationalization lies in its promotion of the coexistence of divergent cultures and harmonious balance of pluralistic values. For this reason, as the world becomes more globalized, the more we need to promote and maintain individual ethnic cultures.

station on the world stage is not such a distant goal. With the proper planning, this could be realized in quite a short period of time. Once the audio channel of the Korean satellite Mugunghwa is activated, broadcast to the Asian region, including Southeast Asia, would be possible immediately, while at such time that satellite broadcasting becomes more readily accessible, worldwide broadcast of Korean music would become a reality. When this becomes feasible, the gugak radio station will be able to play an important role at the forefront of creating a brand new musical trend, fusing together the styles of both the West and the East. There are not many countries where the cultures of both worlds have seen such acute conflicts and clashes. We have been thro~g periods of much confusion caused by the whirlwind of divergent cultural trends from the various Western cultures sweeping through our small peninsula. On

the other hand, these circumstances have placed us in an ideal position to create a brand new culture in the future. In traditional East Asian culti_Jre, the essence of the yin-yang principle inv9lves a harmony between opposing forces, which gives birth to a new influer:J.ce. Even in the dialectical view of world history, the fervent cultural struggles that Korean society has experienced give us immense potential for creating a brand new culture. It should also be noted that Korea's traditional culture is truly unique. Among its most noteworthy aspects is the noble spirit of the seonbi, or literati, of the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910). Many traits make up this ideal character, but above all, the seonbi spirit comprises integrity, loyalty and unworldliness. One does not pursue a route that is not proper and in the face of injustice, it is imperative for integrity and loyalty to be maintained. This spirit resulted in a cadre of respected scholar-officials who did not pursue material gain while their emphasis on integrity called for the ulti. mate sacrifice in upholding one's values. But with the arrival of Western capitalism, the spirit of Korean society changed drastically. Materialism became the dominant pursuit while a shallow culture of consumerism took over. Integrity and loyalty had been thrown out, replaced by financial gains, with life being lived and thoughts being thought as if

the only worthwhile goal was making money. But in the polar extremes that exist in today's Korean culture, we can see new possibilities for promoting a balanced grafting of Western capitalist values onto the traditional seonbi spirit. In line with the currents of internationalization and information-sharing, the earth will become closer and smaller, leading to a significant increase in the exchange and amalgamation of different ethnic cultures, and eventually resulting in the birth of new forms of culture. As already suggested, the fusion of the Korean seonbi spirit and Western capitalism would create an optimally balanced and ideal cultural phenomenon. Perhaps due to the cultural clash of the 20th century, Kor ~ a was forced to take steps to prepare for a brand new culture, while the launch of the gugak radio station is just the first indication of the many more possibilities that will emerge in the future. In looking back at the end of the 20th Âˇ century, traditional music and dance have been at the forefront of introducing Korean culture to the world. Performances abroad of folk dance and traditional coutt dance have shown foreign audiences the uniqueness of Korean dance while mystical court music and one-of-a-kind pansori performances have instilled the distinctiveness of Korean culture in people's minds. Exhibitions of Korean art such as ceramics have also

_ been successful, but music and dance are more convenient genres when it comes to mobility. Moreover, traditional Korean music has invariably been received with overwhelming enthusiasm on overseas tours, for the unique appeal of its tunes and mystical character of its melodies. : Even in the 1960s and 1970s when traditional music was being shunned in Korea, overseas performances of pansori, court music ensembles, daegeum (large transverse bamboo flute) and gayageum (long 12-string zither), enjoyed hearty responses. We Koreans were the ones surprised by the enthusiastic response from foreigners, and this helped us to change our minds about our own cultur~ a l heritage and rediscover the value of the traditional arts, which at that time had been considered "undeveloped." And "" toward the late 20th century, the cultural scene in Korea shifted drastically, with a sharp resurgence of interest in traditional culture. The launch of the gugak radio station occurred just as this trend was spreading across the country, marking a triumphant moment in the history of Korean culture while also providing a major turning point in the changes taking place in traditional culture today, leading to notable synergy effects of surprising consequences. The National Center for Korean Traditional Performing Arts has its roots in the Eumseongseo (Sound and Music Bureau) of the Silla Kingdom, and is thus carrying on its 1,400-year-old tradition

today. It is the oldest musical institution in the world, and the pride of Korea, not to mention part of the world's cultural heritage. The launch of the Gugak FM radio station is another groundbreaking achievement of this venerable institution. The station does not limit its broadcast material to music. It has been launched as a means to promote various aspects of traditional Korean culture, with a focus on music. It will play the role of a vital cornerstone in preserving

A Saturday music class led by Kim Duk-soo of the SamulNori percussion quartet.

Korea's unique spirit and mindset, which can hopefully be disseminated throughout the world, while providing an impetus for creating a brand new cultural trend. This is the beginning of a historic audio broadcast to the world, contributing to the creation of a new human culture in the 21st century. + 37

INTERVIEW

THE THEATER OF

Bum-suk By Kim Moon-hwan Professor/ Theater Critic, Seoul National University

his year, playwright Cha Bumsuk is working on a production to celebrate his 50-year career in theater, which began when his two-act play Every Night the Stars debuted in 1951 at an art festival organized by the Mokpo Cultural Association. His first encounter with theater actually preceded that Âˇdebut by a few years. Cha entered Yeonhi College (now Yonsei University) in 1946, and in his sophomore year chose to major in English literature. While on campus, he organized the Yonhee Performing Arts Club and staged Korea's first production of Oedipus Rex As a member of the Yudal Student Association, a theater group made up of students from Mokpo studying in Seoul, he directed and played the lead role in a p1:oduction of Park Gyeong-chang's play Sinchon, which was also staged in Mokpo. When the Korean War broke out during his senior year, Cha had to abandon school and flee to Mokpo, where he then worked as a middle school teacher for five years. During this time, he staged three one-act plays and four longer ones, whil.e also publishing a translation of Western plays. Then, with the endorsement of Korea's preeminent playwright Yun Chi-jin, his plays Moonshine and Coming Home earned an honorable

A scene from Cha Bum-suk's Tropical Fish

mention award and a prize, respectively, in the Chosun Ilbo Annual Spring Literature Contest in 1955 and 1956. This distinction marked Cha's admission into the world of Korean theater, soon after which he moved back to Seoul and began staging professional productions. As is the case even today, literature contests sponsored by daily newspapers are the most sought-after launching pads for aspiring writers, with the Chosun Ilbo

and Dong-A Ilbo organizing the two most prestigious competitions. In Seoul, Cha landed a teaching position at Duksung Girls' High School with the help of Park Hwa-seong, a renowned writer from Mokpo, and also founded the Jejak Theater Company together with his old colleagues from the University Theater Society, a group formed in his college days. He also continued to stage new plays and soon published his first collection of plays. Titled Without the Pain of Breaking the Shell, the collection includes his prizewinning Coming Home, along with seven one-act plays, one two-act play and one four-act play. They are all what would be described as "realist" plays. "I wanted to put a mirror in front of reality to show it as it is. Without beautifying what's ugly, without hiding what is unredeemable, witholit shame for . being unattractive, without adorning our poverty. How else can we portray ourselves but just as we are?" Cha says that it was from such a desire that his "humble realism" began to take shape. He says that for him, playwriting is creating "theater that will allow us to remove all our layers of injustice, contradiction, wrongfulness, deceit and hypocrisy and to embrace one anothe1 ~s nakedness; theater that is and has to be clearly Korean, not American, Japanese

or Russian and is an act of openly declaring that we are our own masters, not an act of some purpose or of calculated means or born out of slave mentality, nor of subordination and servility." And this is the belief that has guided Cha throughout his life. In this respect, Cha considers Yu Chi-jin as his lifelong mentor and often refers to the eye-opening experience of Yu's career in theater-influenced by Romain Rolland's A Theory of People's Theatei'-Which Cha applies to his own life. "I think I have always been driven by a fundamental and humble longing for a day when theater will become a true form of art, no longer only a means of entertainment, but something that we can use to enhance the human spirit and reform society." Admitting that his mentor made mistakes, Cha said: "He left an undeniable mark of shame on history, working as he did at the forefront of projapanese theater under colonial rule with the founding of the Hyeondae Theater Company in 1941." But he also generalizes this issue, saying: "That became a specter of shame and betrayal, which was perhaps what every single writer and artist of this country had to go through during that time." The manifesto for the founding of the Jejak Theater Company, in which Cha played a major role, also helps us to understand his brand of realism. It states: "We reject any kind of theatrical style that conspires with the audience in seeking out the sensual and the .sentimental; that forces self-justified impressions and aesthetics upon the audience; that blinds the audience with superficial intellect; and isolates itself in a fortress of abstract ideas." It attempts to experiment and establish a style of mainstream theater that pursues truly progressive Korean drama in modern times. It is evident from his play Without the Pain of Breaking the Shell, the title work in his first collection of plays, that his theater company's "steadfast solidarity based on our respect for individuality 39

-"I,

and the conscious humanism of this era" was reflected in his first collection. Cha acknowledges that Without the Pain of Breaking the Shell is about the April 19, 1961 Student Revolution, and that it was his first political play. Through the tragic story of a National Assembly member from the opposition party, and the consequences of his political betrayal, Cha attempts to convey a theme about "the ugliness of selling one's soul, and how Korean politics is still muddy with the deeds of such rootless betrayers." This play, which was staged at the National Theater to commemorate the first anniversary of the April 19, 1961 Student Revolution, marked the debut of Cha and the Jejak Theater Company at the prestigious government-funded institution. This production also included the debut of director Heo Gyu, who later went on to head the National Theater. Cha wrote in the introduction to his first collection of plays: 'just as society is going through a phase of new awakening and rebirth with the establishment of the Second Republic, this collection was put together as part of an effort to bring about a new turning point in my writing." Around this time, Cha left his teaching position at Duksung and joined the newly founded Munhwa Broadcasting Corporation (MBC), where he would work for the next ten years. Those years were a golden age for him, as he himself acknowledges. In 1962, his most well-known and widely acclaimed work, the five-act Mountain Fire, premiered at the National Theater. In 1963, he founded the Sanha Theater Company, which remained together for two decades. Although Cha would always humbly say it was due to some strange quirk of fate involving the political dynamics within theater circles, he was named the chairman of the Korea Theater Association in 1968 at the relatively young age of 44, and soon thereafter published his second collection of plays, The Proxy. Cha describes his play Mountain Fire 40

as a follow-up to his first play Every Night the Stars (1951), which revolves around the conflicts and struggles of an intellectual who, captivated by communism, joins with partisans in South Korea but soon grows disillusioned with their inhumane and disgraceful deeds, and also the tragedy that befalls his family as a result. Cha says the inspiration for Mountain Fire came to him while he was working on his first play. "For ten years I kept thinking about what would happen to this dissident once he leaves the mountains and returns to his previous life, so I kept writing Âˇand erasing the story in my mind." In Cha's own words, his intention was "to show naked humanity through the primal desires of people who are pulled around by others, without will or direction. I wrote this play to find in the deep mountains, where there is no civilization or desire for a better life, our lost humanity, and to soothe the pain that the people of this country had to endure because of ideological conflicts."

A scene from the National Theater's 1974 production of Cha's Active Volcano.

His second collection, which includes

Mountain Fire, reveals a more mature Cha expressing himself through lengthier works. Between the two collections, in 19'63, he founded the Sanha Theater Company, in order to infuse his own plays with his individual style. The company sought to improve the professionalism of Korean theater and bring the stage closer to the public, tfirough such efforts as producing new Korean plays, national tours to broaden theater audiences, developing new audience groups and training new talent. Ultimately, the Sanha Theater Company was a tool for pursuing Cha's own ideals as a playwright, which meant that his life and work directly affected the successes and failures of the troupe. Several other playwrights also participated in some of the productions, including Im Hi-jae and Ha Yu-sang, but most of the company's

productions were written or adapted by Cha. Apart from Mountain Fire, the plays in his second collection-Blue Tile-

roofed House, Tropical Fish, Castle of Roses and The Proxy-were all staged by the Sanha Theater Company, as was also the case with his later works. Cha resigned from MBC in 1970 after contracting acute hepatitis. He returned to the theater upon regaining his health, but the Sanha Theater Company was eventually disbanded in 1983. Nevertheless, Cha remained active in theater dur. ing this time. He continued to be appointed to major positions in theater Âˇ and other related fields, including Vice President of the Korea Artists League , and a member of the National Academy of Arts. He received numerous awards including the Anti-Communism Literature Award, the Korea Academy of Arts , A ward, and the Dong rang Theater Âˇ Award. He also tried his hand at writing for TV, as the creator and writer for the

series "Countryside Diaries," which is still on the air. Another venture involved writing scripts for dance, which was not simply a chance occurrence but quite a serious pursuit, as Cha recollected that as a child he was greatly moved by seeing a performance of the legendary dancer Choi Seung-hi, and that for a while as a freshman in college he studied modern dance with famed dancer Ham Gui-bong. He wrote quite a number of dance scripts, but of course, his forte was always the theater. He published Fantasy journey, his third collection of plays, in 1975 and his fourth, Crane and Love, in 1982. Included in the third are Toward the Sun, Flock of

Seagulls, The Profession of Professor Wang, Fanfasy journey and Blue Bird, and in the fourth, Crane and Love, Hotel Sontag, The Forest of Massacre and Active Volcano. Toward the Sun was created from the one-act play Wasteland, with its title being changed

soon after the May 16, 1961 coup d'etat at the request of the National Theater, which desired a more positive and uplifting theme. The play was placed first in the collection because it is one of Cha's personal favorites. Flock of Seagulls was staged by the Shinhyeop Theater Company in an effort to revitalize the troupe after several sluggish seasons when theater was hurt by the growing popularity of the cinema. The play was specifically designed to provide roles for all the troupe members who had turned to movie acting and, as Cha pointed out, it was his first experi-

A scene from Toward the Sun which is included in FantasyjolliTiey, Cha's third collection of plays that was published in 197 5 (below). A scene from the 1962 premiere of Mountain Fire, Cha Bum-suk's most widely acclaimed work (bottom).

Professor Kim Moon-hwan listens to Cha Bwn-suk, President of the National Academy of Arts, the Republic of Korea, as he recalls his life as a dramatist.

ence with commercial theater and a star system. It resulted in a commercial success, and along with Mountain Fire, encouraged Cha to found his own company. The Profession of Professor \Vang was Cha's first attempt at satire, a revision of a play titled In Flight. Cha wrote Fantasy journey while he was recovering from hepatitis, and has said that it was based on his own platonic love affair. Based on the 1894 Donghak Uprising, Blue Bird was written for a nationwide tour sponsored by the Korea Culture and Arts Foundation (KCAF). This was part of Cha's third collection that was also published with a grant from the KCAFs Publication Fund. Crane and-Love is based on a folk tale about the island of Samhakdo off the coast of Cha's hometown of Mokpo. He had originally envisioned the story as a dance, but turned it into a drama, ''because I wanted to cast a new light on history built upon the destruction of the old." Cha describes Hotel Sontag as "a genre painting depicting a slice of history" featuring two historical figures- Seo Jae-pil and Antoinette Sontag-while saying that he sought to "contemplate our present and future by depicting individuals as they vacillate with the times, and the universal experiences of love and hate, solitude and betrayal, the individual and the organization, rather than portraying historical fact." In other words, by depicting the two characters as pioneers fighting for independence and humanity, Cha was trying to draw parallels with the social issues of the time to heighten public awareness of today's situations. Cha has said that in some ways Forest of Massacre is a story about what happened before Mountain Fire, recounting that "I might have been more afraid about writing this play than others, since the wounds left by the 42

war were so deep and painful." He went on to say that what he wanted to do was "portray the absurdity of mod. ern society, in which the system destroys the individua l," and that "instead of focusing on a specific political ideology, I wanted to help restore the pureness in humanity, something that has been taken away by ideology." The protagonist of Active Volcano was inspired by a woman from Oksan Vi ll age in Angang, Wolseong-gun, Gyeongsangbuk-do province who distinguished herself as an acclaimed leader

in the Saemaeul Movement, a campaign intended to modernize rm:al communi. ties under the Park Chung Hee regime. Cha said that his intent was to "envision through her story a brighter future while highlighting the pain that Korean women and rural villages had suffered," and to express that "for 20 years after our liberation from the Japanese, we were poor, distorted, suffering under twisted methods of oppression, but now, we can shout out at the sun." The National Theater organized an extensive nationwide tour of this play.

There are many differing views of the anti-communist national policy and the Saemaeul Movement, which were symbols of Park Chung Hee's military regime. As for the subsequent military regime under Chun Doo Whan, during which Cha's fourth collection of plays was published, the playwright did have a critical view that he wanted to convey, which is reflected in the following passage from his epilogue to the book: "People will have different opinions about the works in this book To the writer, his work is like his alter ego, his

child, and I must add that, as the old saying goes, a parent has greater affection for the child that has been through more pain." ' Since 1983, Cha has remained a vivid presence in Korean theater. He taught at Chongju National University, then served as the dean of its arts school, taught at the Seoul Art College, and for a short while headed the Seoul 88 Arts Troupe, in preparation for the imminent expansion in inter-Korean cultural exchange. In 1998, following the election of President Kim Dae-jung, Cha was

named KCAF chairman, then resigned after being appointed President of the National Academy of Arts, the Republic of Korea. President Kim Dae-jung, who is from the same hometown as Cha, has offered his help and support to Cha ever since his days as an opposition leader. Cha also received additional awards, including the Seoul City Culture Award. His publications during this period included his fifth and sixth play collections Mountain Fire (1985) and Morning in the Colony (1988), along with Contemporary Understanding of Drama, a critical guide to Korean theater, I Loved with a Gesture of Refusal (1984) and Recollections of the Slow Train for Mokpo, collections of essays, and two memoirs, Life of an Artist (1993) and The Wandering Landscape (1998). He also published several ac.ademic papers on the development of modern theater in Korea. It is no simple task to summarize in a few words the theater world of Cha Bum-suk, who was born into a well-todo family and spent his entire life and career in relatively fortunate circumstances. Throughout his career, Cha has constantly contemplated life experiences, especially the hardship of the lower class, from a distance and has maintained a somewhat cynical attitude while writing about social injustice. He has written about political issues from time to time, but as he himself has admitted, he seems to be obsessively purist and evasive, viewing all of politics in a negative light. It would be more accurate to say that rather than being an activist with -a determination to reform the contradictions and injustices in Korean society and history, Cha, though at times cynical, and with conformist tendencies, sought to remain above all else, a faithful observer. With more than 100 works to his credit, Cha is no doubt an exceptionally prolific writer whose plays will serve as an insightful window on Korea, for those who would like to gain more intimate knowledge about Korea and its people through its theater. + 43

-"\

Traditional Artisan

Resembling an Ox's Bellow: The Jing Master

Lee Hyoung-kwon Head, Cultural Properties Research Institute

imcheon, situated at the tail end of Chupungnyeong Ridge, has been an important transportation hub since ancient times. For this reason, it is referred to as "the northern gate of Korea's southeast." Due to its location at the very center of Korea's three southernmost provinces, it served as a trading hub, subsequent to the development of the horse relay system during the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910). As a result, Gimcheon, along with Daegu, Pyeongyang, Jeonju and Ganggyeong, was home to one of the country's five largest markets. Its foundation as a commercial center was further strengthened when the tide of modernization swept through the country, bringing with it the laying of railroad tracks. One aspect of Gimcheon's culture, made possible by its importance as a transportation hub, was the making of brassware, which included the fashioning of jing (large gong) and kkwaenggwari (small gong). In the days when merchants from the southernmost provinces gathered below Chupungnyeong Ridge, Gimchem, along with Anseong, Gyeonggido province, was well known for its brassware. Gimcheon's Yaksu-dong area, commonly referred to as Yangmulnaegi, was a popular brassware market until the Korean War. All sorts of brass ware, 44

: v

Kim ll-ung, a master artisan of the jing, a traditional gong, has been designated a human cultural treasure by Gyeongsangbuk-do province

including bowls, receptacles, washtubs, urinals, large and small gongs and tableware were produced here and then sold throughout the country. This brassware was all created by hammer work, a tradition that lives on today in the revered jing and kkwaenggwari produced in Gimcheon. Stainless steel tableware drove out brassware, but since jing and kkwaenggwari could not be made

of any material other than brass, they are still being made the same as before. Gimcheon's renowned artisan Kim llung has been carrying on the brassware tradition. Born in 1940 and having worked as a brass smith for 45 years since the age of 17, he is now the leading authority in this field. Prior to the end of World War II, jing were made in numerous places around the country, but today it is the jing from Gimcheon and Hamyang that receive recognition, while among the brass smiths from these two areas, Kim Il-ung is thought to be the finest. The jing, along with the kkwaenggwa:Âˇi, janggo (hour-glass drum) and buk (barrel drum), are musical instruments used to express han (pent-up sorrow and angst). Whether happy or sad, Koreans would play these instruments to reinvigorate their psyche;_As soon as the music of these instruments echoed forth, people would begin to dance, moving their shoulders and arms up and down in a typical Korean dance movement, mesmerized by its dynamic spirit. The instruments are used to produce a unique rhythm that cannot be imitated using Western instruments, a rhythm so rousing that it could even cause weary farmers to forget about their backbreaking toil. Among these traditional instruments, the kkwaenggwari with its unmistakably

loud, invigorating metallic clamor, is the representative percussion instrument. The jing, on the other hand, produces a high-pitched ring that is all-embracing, capable of resonating within one's inner depths. Its solemn, masculine sound sets the initial beat, becoming the music's robust center. Its weighty tone resounds, providing a dynamic energy able to overwhelm any adversity. Koreans, spurred on by the vibrant sound of the jing, have crossed over mountain and river, overcoming the harsh trials marking their hist01y. The jing has also been called geumjeong or geum. When it came to be a Korean instrument is not certain. According to one theory, the instrumen~ used from ancient times in China, was introduced to Korea during the reign of Goryeo's King Gongmin (r. 1351-1374). It was used by the Chwitadae, a military band, as well as for ceremonies at Jongmyo, the royal ancestral shrine of the Joseon Dynasty, and shaman rituals, but was especially popular in farmers' bands. Jing are produced by hammering high-quality brass into the desired shape. The manufacturing method is similar to that used to make brass bowls. Today, three techniques are used to make brass bowls: jumul, bangjja, and banbangjja.

The jumul method involves melting an alloy ingot containing tin or zinc mixed with copper at a 4 to 7 ratio. The molten liquid is then poured into a bowlshaped mold after which it is worked and polished. This method is the most straightforward. The Anseong area is best known for this method, and this is a derivation of the Korean expression anseongmachum, "just the thing." In the bangjja method, metal is melted to produce a molten material referred to as badaegi. A team of smiths then fire

as a traditional bangjja smith in a workshop known as Goryeo Traditional Nongak Instruments. At first glance, the shop looks more like an ironsmith's workshop. At one end, bellows produce deep red flames amid the clanking of hammers striking metal. Kim Il-ung, who has been designated an human cultural treasure by Gyeongsangbuk-do province, perfected his skills for six years under the tutelage of his maternal grandfather-a fourth-generation jing maker in Hamyang. Kim and a cousin then came down to Gimcheon => where he has continued to make brass~ ware such as jing and kkwaenggwari to this day. Possessing extraordinary craftmanship and expertise, Kim is a true master of his field. The fact that his products are sold in shops as far away as Busan and Jeju Island attest to .the popularity of his works. Kim Il-ung believes that the essence of the jing is found in its sound . According to where it is produced and the character of its maker, a jing can have a clanging sound, an arching sound, a long, resounding echo or a crescendo at the end. A well-made jing has a lingering reverberation that can deeply move listeners. The secret to producing this effect involves the ratio of the metals, which is determined by the cautious fingertips and concentrated Gold and silver need to be added to the alloy for producing a gong. gaze of the smith as he plies his craft. To produce a jing, Kim Il-ung first creates an alloy with a copper to tin ratio and pound the metal to produce a bowl of 160 to 45. He then produces a mass of shape. With the bangjja method, a mixmetal in the shape of a baduk (go) stone ture of copper and tin is used. If other which is 25 centimeters in diameter and metals are included, the metal will crack . 7 centimeters thick When working this during the pounding. Instruments such lump of alloy, called badigi, the smith must take care to hammer it only after it as the jing and kkwaenggwari must be produced with the bangjja method to has turned a pinkish color from the firensure their durability. ing. If removed from the fire prematureAs for the banbangjja method, a parly, the metal will shatter upon being tial bowl shape is created using the struck Consequently, it has long been jumul method, and the edges are then said that working on badigi should be pounded and pressed into a concave done at night when the exact color of shape. the hot metal can be more accurately Right behind the Yangcheon District determined. Office in Gimcheon, Kim Il-ung works In times past, each jing workshop

was home to a team of WCl1"K1ers--const1m: ing of the head blacksmith ( daejeong1), the bellows worker (bulmukkun), and various other assistants known in Korean as gajildaejang, ammekkun, jeonmaekkun, and seonmaekkun. Dripping sweat while laboring to the heavy clanging of hammer upon metal, they would single-mindedly toil the night away, . striving to produce jing with a divine ring. Nowadays, however, many smiths use machinery. In the traditional method, the assistants held the badigi with scissor-damps while it was struck by the smith. As the badigi was passed around , the workers would sing a melody for camaraderie and to pass the time. After the badigi cooled, it was again fired with this process being repeated until it had expanded to about 30 centimeters. This resulted in chobadigi (initial badigi). Three chobadigi are then stacked together and fired. After the chobadigi has been flattened out to approximate the gong's flat surface, the edges are raised by hammering. The raised edges are called igali. The piece is then fired again and, under a process known as ssagaejil, the bottom is carefully hammered so that the center is thick, the edges of medium thickness and the area between thin. After this, the piece is tempered so as to reinforce the durability of the brass. 48

beeo. fashioned, it is struck with a specially designed mallet to test its sound Thereafter, it is placed on a motorized wheel where a hard metal blade is used to produce concentric "tree rings" on the surface. A hole is then drilled into one edge through which a cord is attached for holding the jing, after which it is struck again to test the sound. This second test is necessary because attaching the cord changes the sound. A single

of the hammer at this stage of the manufacturing process can lead to the gong producing a different sound. I observed Kim Il-ung prepare such a piece during one of my visits. After tempering, the initial sound was fine but later resulted in a rattling sound. However, after several sharp taps of Kim's hammer, the rattling sound disappeared, leaving a majestic ring that only a well-crafted jing can produce. According to Kim, a well-made jing produces a heavy sound like an extend"' ed mountain echo that suddenly rises at ~ the end like the bellowing of an ox. Only then can the instrument have a profound impact upon the audience. Kim's workshop is filled with bangjja brassware and completed jing. It was moving to think that brassware, formerly just lumps of metal, had been worked by the hands and spirit of the blacksmith into instruments that can have such a noticeable effect on people. As I struck the gongs lining the walls of the shop, each one gave forth an ox's bellow. The resonant echo of these round metal disks, born and fashioned from the hot flame, will forever remain embedded in my memory. +

The ingot is beaten flat, so that it is thinnest in the center, and the edges are shaped to forma rim.

The Gomso Salt Farm produces sun-dried salt.

oreans often liken scenery to a "work of art" while frequently using the expression "as -though painted with a brush" to express the gracefulness of a beautiful woman. So it came as no surprise when I found a guidebook on the Byeonsan peninsula in Buan-gun county, Jeollabuk-do province, which I recently visited, describing the area as "a work of art created by beautiful mountains and the sea." This inclination appears to have derived from the distinct characteristics of a school of landscape painting during the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) that focused on painting natural scenery in elaborate detail. However, the artists appear to have practiced excessive restraint in painting people in the scenes they painted, even though they could be called a part of nature. In some paintings, it seems that people were deliberately omitted. At best, the paintings would show an old man casting a fishing line from a small boat, a farmer rushing home to avoid a sudden downpour, or a hermit admiring the natural scenery from a pavilion. Apart from several genre paintings and rare selfportraits painted by professional artists, the painters of the Joseon Dynasty 52

rarely depicted the voluptuous lines of woinen or the vigor of the people grappling with life. In any case, I believe that comparing theÂˇ Byeonsan peninsula to a work of art fails to do it justice. The peninsula offers spectacular natural scenery while its residents live in harmony with nature. Both the natural environment and the people, characterized by their dynamism, have to be depicted to accurately portray the landscape of the Byeonsan peninsula; a painting would be incomplete without both. I wish to cite Gomso Harbor as a typical example of a place representing a superb work of art, where people and nature coexist. This harbor is wellknown for sun-dried salt and some of the finest fermented fish in Korea. Originally an island, it is now linked with the mainland so that the salt and agricultural products grown in nearby farming areas can be easily shipped to Japan or transported to Seoul. About 200 fishing boats still use the harbor today, while the salt ponds and rows of shops selling fermented fish are sources of keen interest for tourists. When the kimchi-making season approaches in late fall, the harbor and its adjoining areas bustle throughout the day with throngs

of people who come from all over the country to buy its popular fermented fish to season their winter kimchi. The sun-dried salt is produced by drawing seawater into a pond and then going through a drying process consisting of several 'stages. The pond where salt crystals form during the drying process is called the crystallization area. Initial crystallization of salt starts when the salinity reaches about 25 percent.

A view of the West Sea from Byeonsan peninsula (above). Shops selling fermented fish line the street (left).

After further drying, when the salinity reaches 27 percent, crystals start to appear. It takes three or four days for these crystals to become the final product sold in markets during spring, two days in summer, and three days in fall. In the past, the bottom of the salt ponds were tamped down and covered with pieces of earthenware, which reflected the sunlight and dried the seawater, but these days the bottoms are lined with tile. As sunset approaches, workers are hard at work, scooping the seawater into the crystallization areas as the sun sinks behind their backs. This makes for a vivid scene, bathed as they are in the warm glow of the sunlight reflecting 53

from the tiles at the bottom of the salt ponds. The workers contrast sharply with the crumbling salt storage sheds standing here and there throughout the salt ponds, which come together like a fine work of art. Then there is the fermented fish, which is closely intertwined with the salt produced in Gomso and counted among the best in Korea. Jeolla-do is widely acknowledged as the region with the most developed culinary culture in Korea. In particular, for a large number of Jeolla-do dishes, fermented fish Âˇ is a basic ingredient. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the uniqueness of Jeolla-do food is due in large part to the liberal use of fermented fish. One of the reasons that many Koreans have a hard time adapting to foreign food when they go abroad, even for short periods of time, is because they have long been accustomed to fermented food, such as fermented fish, kimchi and soybean paste. In fact, the traditional taste of Korean food is heavily dependent on ferment.ed fish, which is an essential ingredient in a wide range of dishes, including cabbage kimchi, cucumber kimchi, radish kimchi, vegetable soup, and fish soup, in addition to seasoning parboiled vegetables and being served in its original form. Gomso Harbor is also noted for the silt along the banks of its inlets. A wide expanse of silt and the sea creatures therein are exposed when the tide begins to ebb. The local women lose no time to make the most of the low tide, and armed with hoes and fishing nets, busily dig clams from the silt. They, too, are an integral element of the vista typical of a fishing village. Aside from Gomso, visitors can stop off at Mo Harbor, Gung Harbor, Chaeseokgang River, Jeokbyeokgang River, Nakjodae, and several beaches as they drive along the J?yeonsan peninsula's coastal road.

This stone jangseung spirit post stands sentinel at the entt-ance to the town ofBuan. 54

Croaker, a delectable fish that can cost as much as 100,000 won ($80), is another product that is closely related to the salt produced at Gomso Harbor. Called gulbi when dried, croakers caught in the waters nearby Chilsan in mid-March are considered to be of excellent quality, especially those from Yeonggwang. But catches have diminished lately and croaker are not so easy to come by these days. When one considers that the nearby seas of Chilsan are located between Buan, Gochang and Yeonggwang, then all the croakers caught in these areas, not just in Yeonggwang, must be of the same superb quality. Just as coffee goes by different names, depending on the time when the beans are harvested and the particular production process, even if grown in the same field, croakers also go by different names, depending on the drying process involved. Even so, the

croakers from the vicinity of the Byeonsan peninsula must taste quite similar, just like crops from the same field. Laver, a seaweed so savory that it is irresistible when served as a side dish, is another specialty product of the Byeonsan peninsula. The rows of stakes neatly placed by the sea for drying laver, and the fishermen tending to the seaweed, are also essential aspects of the tranquil and beautiful scenery of the West Sea. In laver cultivation, spores are planted in September, and the seaweed is harvested from Nove mber until March. The laver grows strong roots in cold weather, which helps to enhance quality and increase the yield. From long ago, every village in Korea had its own guardian deity. To honor this tutelary deity, jangseung, or spirit posts, Seonangdang, a shrine for performing community rites, and sotdae, poles with bird figures perched on top, symbolizing the bird's role as a messenger between heaven and earth, were placed at the village entrance to wish for the prosperity and well-being of the residents. Dangsan is a term referring to the specific site where the village tutelary is believed to reside. At the same time, it also refers to all the tutelary deities worshipped by a village. Ancient trees, sotdae, stone pillars and jangseung take on a composite significance and can serve as spiritual entities in a village. When traveling from Gimje toward Buan, the center of the Byeonsan peninsula, you come upon a three-way intersection at the entrance to the town. On both sides of the intersection stone . jangseung stand vigil, but it is easy to pass by without noticing them unless you pay particular attention. The tutelary deities of Buan stand at the east entrance to the town; there are also stone jangseung at the south and west entrances. Although the jangseung standing at a village entrance usually have threatening expressions to frighten away evil spirits that might bring trouble to the village, a closer look reveals unexpectedly comical and genteel char-

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acteristics. As the place where the village tutelary deities are said to dwell, the dangsan has long served as the focal point of a religious belief shared by the "' villagers-that the fortune of the village depends on how faithfully they worship the tutelary deities. The villagers also used to make personal prayers to the guardian deities, such as for the health of family members or to beget a son. A stone sotdae is worshipped as the main deity in Buan's dangsan. In fact, the sotdae is called Dangsan. Atop the pole is perched a stone duck Every village maintained a similar shrine in the past, but most have since disappeared, except for coastal areas, or have fallen into disuse. But the shrine in Buan has been preserved, albeit in a somewhat rundown condition. Such shrines are valuable for understanding Korean folk culture and beliefs.

Like Christianity, the Buddhist religion was introduced to Korea from abroad. A major reason Buddhism spread so rapidly among Koreans after its introduction was its embrace of shamanism, Korea's indigenous religion. Evidence of this is the Samsindang, a shrine housing images of shaman gods that was built on the grounds of Buddhist temples. It was built to- enable those who believe in shamanism to visit a Buddhist temple and worship their own gods as well. There are several Buddhist temples on the Byeonsan peninsula, although they cannot be described as typical. The key temples are Naesosa and Gae-amsa. As you approach

The dangsan in the west (top) and south (left) where the town's tutelaty deities are said to reside. 55

The setting sun viewed from Nakjodae, Sunset Pavilion (above). The dangsan at the entrance to Naesosa, a time-honored temple on the Byeonsan peninsula (right). About 600 meters of the path leading to Naesosa from the Djumun gate is lined with aromatic fir trees (below).

Naesosa, toward the front of the ticket booth there is a tree that the local villagers worship as a tutelary deity. The fact that this tree, an object of shamanic worship, remains untouched right in front of a Buddhist temple is proof that Buddhism has coexisted, and still does, w ith Korea's native religion. As you walk through the lijumun gate, you follow a path lined with fir trees for about 600 meters to the inner part of the temple, filled with the heavy aroma of the

- coniferous trees. Gae-amsa's Dae-ungjeon, or Sakyamuni Hall, houses 14 dragon sculptures painted in the brilliant redblue colors of dancheong, an unusually large number. The colors on the outside of the building have long since faded , due to exposure, but a majolity of the Âˇ dancheong remains intact within the building. In the afternoon before the day's uip . is about to end, you should stop at Nakjodae, a noted site of picturesque

scenery that photographers will especially enjoy. You have to pass by Wolmyeongam Rock in order to reach Nakjodae, which is the only place on the West Coast' where you can see the sun rise above the horizon, the sea, and a pale moon all at the same time. After following along a narrow mountain trail behind Wolmyeongam Rock for about 20 minutes, you will come to a large rock on the left and the West Sea comes into view. This is Nakjodae. The sunrise at

Naksan on the East Coas~ and the sunset at Nakjodae in Buan on the West Coast vie for supremacy as indescribably exquisite sights. The awe-inspiring beauty here will unleash the poetic notions bottled up deep within your soul. The next stop on your itinerary should l::ie a tavern or tent bar along the beach where you can relax over drinks and side dishes of fresh octopus or crab while admiring the sun setting over the sea, and then a little later, the moon rising. +

MARKETS

Hwanghak-dong

Flea Kim Mi-ok Freelance Writer

To look around this huge marketplace, where it is said that practically anythingcC!_n be found, you should wander aimlessly about; In doing so, you will be able to take in its charm and ambience.

t times when life is weary and difficult, when our grasp on. life weakens, there is no better elixir than a visit to a marketplace. Seeing the animated vendors so full of vitality, pit_ching their humble goods with resonant voices invariably puts a smile on your face as any ennui quickly dissipates. This is where we are often drawn to even when we do not need any particular item-the venerable neighborhood marketplaces. Nowadays, most of us do our shopping in bright, slick department stores, but still in ourÂˇ hearts are trea- sured memories of the traditional market. And when nostalgia strikes, that is where we go.

From Antique Market to Dokkaebi Market The Dokkaebi Market in Seoul's Hwanghak-dong, Jung-gu, is one such marketplace. Of course, the first question that comes up is why it is called the Dokkaebi Market. But this is not the only name it is known by. It is also called the Ten Thousand Goods Marke~ Used Goods Market, Antique Market, and Flea Market, which are all applicable to this diverse emporium. The Hwanghak-dong Dokkaebi Market starts out from the Heungin Police Station and includes the street "' vendors around the Samil Apartments and the antique stalls in the nearby alleys, while continuing on to the appliance shops around the Sungdong Technical High School. Previously a rice field, the area came to be called Hwanghak-dong because of a yellow crane, or hwanghak, family who lived here. It was in the early 1950s that vendors of secondhand goods began crowding into the neighborhood.

At the Hwanghak-dong Dokkaebi Market, which is reputed to sell anything and everything, you can find books that have long disappeared from regular book shops. Casual browsing is a f.uniliar scene at the market. 59

After the Cheonggyecheon stream was covered up in 1973, a used goods market began forming around the Sarnil Apartments. At one time, there were about 130 antique shops here, such that the area came to be known as Seoul's antique district. But with the Asian Games in 1986, most of the antique shops relocated to a marketplace set up in Janganpyeong, with only some 20 stores still doing business here. But the reason the Hwanghak-dong market still attracts large crowds is because vendors of secondhand goods have taken ovet the stores vacated by the antique merchants. The market earned its dubious name dokkaebi (goblin) market, because discarded useless goods are mysteriously fixed up and resold here. Amid these changes, the Cheonggyecheon Boulevard has remained a popular thoroughfare, making the area hardly a blissful neighborhood. The Cheonggye Overpass plays a vital role in keeping the traffic flowing in and out of this busy area, but because it is such an immense elevated structure, the streets and alleys beneath it are always shadowed while in some places the sky is only partially visible. Nevertheless, there is a palpable sense of energy and vigor, thanks to the shops centered around the wholesale commercial blocks of the Pyeonghwa Market, and among them, the Hwanghak-dong Flea Market is the most vibrant

The Ultimate Used Goods Market The Hwanghak-dong Dokkaebi Market can be divided into five sections. The first section visitors encounter is the area around Cheonggyecheon. The street-side stores and stalls sell mostly used books, home appliances and videotapes. Then, from the street between Buildings 15 and 16 of the Samil Apartments, which cannot hide their neglc~ to the road toward Cheonggyecheon 7-ga, are the antique shops. And from the Sungdong Technical High 60

A passerby hovers over a stall, attracted by its wide assortment of goods (top). The price of an item can depend on your willingness to haggle with shop proprietors (above).

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School behind Building 13 of the Samil Apartments to Building 17 are stores selling home appliances, with TV sets, VCRs, refrigerators, washers and telephones piled high. Lined up along the walls of the Sungdong Technical High School are machinery stores while air-conditioning and heating contractors occupy the street-level floors of Buildings 19-24 of the Sarnil Apartments. To look around this huge marketplace, where it is said that practically anything can be found, you should wander aimlessly about. In doing so, you will be able to take in the charm and ambience of the place. The ''Big Flea" marks the entry to the flea market, with mounds of miscellaneous items of all sorts and sizes spread out along the streets. From figurines for the living room etagere to ~he truly bizarre, such as a medieval-looking sword, the items here seem to transcend time and place. Dol Records, a major distributor in the music business, stands in the alley lined with used record stores. The shelves of these shops contain every genre, from Korean and Western pop and classical music to jazz and rock, with inventories of over 10,000 LPs. The music they blare out into the street can stir the memories of even non-music lovers, luring them into the stores. The younger generations now listen to CDs, but as one of the regulars here says, true music enthusiasts still brag about how many LPs they have in their collection, which may explain why the stores here are still so popular. Rare col. lector's items often can be found in these shops as well. The narrow alleyway between Buildings 16 and 17 of the Samil Apartments is an exotic sight even for the Hwanghak-dong Market, with the shops here specializing in imported antiques and vintage items. Viking has been selling Western-style furniture and furnishings for over 30 years; Manmulsa even has original Coca-Cola bottles; and Old House is filled with all types of

used musical instruments. This one alley is like a microcosm of the market itself. Meanwhile, the well-known Minsok Antiques shop specializes in traditional Korean folk crafts. For the past 30 years, the shop owner has been collecting and reselling such things as wooden vessels, irons and gongs. The shop's clientele include interior designers, folk craft collectors, museum curators and housewives. These items from yesterday seem to exude a distinct nostalgia especially to Âˇ those of us who work and live within concrete edifices. It takes much time to just look around the market and for shoppers , who need to relax or sate their appetite, there is the popular gopchang (cow intestines) alley of Hwanghak-dong. The alley is lined with makeshift tents , selling broiled gopchang, with the spicy aroma and sizzling sounds of the cooking gopchang proving irresistible to passersby. From the pleasures of the market sights to the taste of this delicacy, a day's trip here is definitely worthwhile.

A Marketplace Filled with Nostalgia This is a unique shopping experience, in which the overflowing goods cause visitors to frequently stop and rummage "' through the piles while trying to imagine the faces and lives of the previous owners of various items. Perhaps it is difficult to get a feel for this without trying it yourself. A silver chastity knife with a dulled blade, a stuffed eagle looking as if it were about to take flight, a dial telephone which might have been shared by an entire village in the olden days. Where did all these things, with the grime of time obscuring their secrets, come from, and what hands, what places, have they passed through to get here? It is ce1tainly

From where and how these things found their way to the market is often a mystery. 61

Âˇnot beyond the realm of possibility that personal items once belonging to one's own grandparents or relatives might be found in one of these stalls. Here in Hwanghak-dong, the art of negotiating the price of items is another pleasure. Because of the abundance of goods, prices all vary from shop to shop. So everyone turns into a bargain hunter. There are no price tags. Sometimes you can reap a windfall, but on the other hand, you can also end up being taken advantage of. But the bargaining never involves large amounts of money, usually just a few thousand won or so. The goings-on here are all about the lives of plain 62

folks, and perhaps it is this unembellished character of the marketplace that generates renewed energy in weary urbanites. I am someone who dislikes having other people brush against me when Âˇ walking about. But along the crowded streets and byways of Hwanghak-dong, it is impossible to walk around without bumping into others; however, no one seems to complain. And strangely, I soon get accustomed to the bustling Vendors of secondhand goods are filling up the places left by antique dealers who have migrated one after another to an antiques market atJanganpyeong (above, left).

droves of shoppers, while that frown on my face is saved for another time. I-t is never a good idea to visit Hwanghak-dong when you are in a hurry. Trying to make your way through the people leisurely strolling along, crouching in front of something that catches their eye, will only leave you exasperated; moreover, it is simply not possible to rush about here. The Hwanghak-dong Dokkaebi Market is the place where you can find . all the things not readily available in the modern city. It is the marketplace that Seoulites have cherished for over 30 - years. But now it is facing a particularly daunting challenge. The streets where the market stands and the Samil Apartments, where many of the vendors have lived for three decades, have been slated for redevelopment. The â&#x20AC;˘ master plan was approved in 1996, and ' a mammoth residential/commercial complex will soon oe built here. I am most concerned about what Âˇ will happen to this area, so rich with nostalgia from Korea's not-so-distant past. No doubt the market will reemerge with a new look, much more attractive than now. But who will be the vendors in this modern shopping ~mal? What will happen to the street vendors of Hwanghak-dong? I can only wonder if the vibrancy that they creat" ed will still be here. The ambience of this marketplace is so familiar and natural, like an old pair of jeans that fits perfectly, that it cannot be easily forgotten. I still hope to be able to see for myself again the people who have such affection for their goods, covered with dust beneath the Cheonggye Overpass, and their efforts to satisfy our yearnings for the good old days. â&#x20AC;˘

A robust sense of life exudes from the bustling crowds at the market. 63

Koo Chun-sur Director, World Food Research Institute

arly this year, members of separated families from South and North Korea met in Pyeongyang where they reveled in the elation of reunion. When it was time for lunch, they were served naengmyeon (cold noodles) as the main course. The scene of people eating the cold noodles served in Iaroe b stainless steel bowls was broadcast to the entire world. Many viewers in other countries may have felt their mouth

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watering as they wondered how delicious these noodles must be to have been specially selected to be served to the family members who had been separated from one another for more than half a century. As a favorite of displaced North Koreans, naengmyeon is intimately asscr ciated with memories of their former hometowns. It is comparable to the way that Italians feel about pasta or

Vietnamese about pho, a beef noodle soup. South Koreans also enjoy naengmyeon as a refreshing delicacy for beating the heat of summer. Translated into English, naeng means cold and myeon, noodles. In .China, the term noodles means simply wheat flour, but in Korea and Japan, it refers to flour dough, which is rolled and sliced, boiled in water, and served in broth. Som.etimes the boiled noodles and broth are served separately. Naengmyeon is similar to pasta in this respect, but

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Italian pasta is not served with broth, and includes a variety of types other thah noodles. In most countries, noodles are usually made from regular wheat flour, but in Southeast Asian countries they are frequently made from rice, while in colder regions where buckwheat is a major crop, buckwheat noodles are common. As such, myeon involves a range of meanings. Buckwheat, the basic ingredient of naengmyeon, is not very glutinous, which makes it difficult to roll into dough and then slice into thin noodles. Consequently, buckwheat powder is kneaded with water and placed in a cylinder with small holes in the bottom. Pressure is then applied from the top, which forces the dough through the small holes, forming noodles. The cylinder is held over a pot of boiling water so that the formed noodles fall directly into the water. In the past, meat balls made of chopped pheasant meat were cooked and added to the broth, with the cooled noodles being served with chunks of ice. Since naengmyeon is a cold dish, as indicated by its name, you would think that it was popular mainly in summer, but many people enjoy it in winter as well. The noodles used for naengmyeon can also be served in a hot broth. This is called onmyeon, hot noodles. Although the same noodles are used, the broth is prepared in a different way and with different ingredients. As such, the hot and cold noodles both use buckwheat noodles; however, they are quite different in taste and preparation. Naengmyeon is generally categorized into two types; Pyeongyang naengmyeon and Hamheung naengmyeon, based on the region of their origin. Pyeongyang naengmyeon is served in a chilled beef broth with ice cubes, whereas Hamheung naengmyeon is served without broth, although broth can be provided separately. But in most

cases, Hamheung naengmyeon is eaten without the broth, and instead seasoned with chili pepper paste and garnished with vegetables and slices of beef or raw fish. Another difference is that Pyeongyang naengmyeon is not especially spicy whereas Hamheung naengmyeon is extremely spicy due to the generous amounts of chili pepper paste and mustard that are used. Those who do not like very spicy food may be intimidated by the mere sight of the fiery chili pepper sauce, but others actually relish this dish for its spiciness. Among the various dishes that use

Naengmyeon is very popular in summer. On a sultry summer day, people flock to naengmyeon houses for a refreshing bowl of Pyeongyang style or Hamheung style cold noodles (above, right).

Ingredients for Naengmyeon Broth 5 cups of dongchimi water 5 cups of beef stock 1 tablespoon salt 1 tablespoon vinegar 1 tablespoon white sugar 1) Beef Stock Boil beef ribs in water with scallion and garlic. Boil until a fork or a chopstick can be easily inserted. Remove the ribs and keep wrapped in a wet dishtowel until just before serving. Let the stock cool and discard bits of fat.

2)Gamish Cut the dongchimi radish into crescentshape slices or long, thin slices. Cut cucumbers into thin slices, salt lightly and pan fry. Peel the pear and cut it into thick slices. Boil the eggs and cut in half. Slice the beef into pieces 3 to 4 millimeters thick. 3) Broth Mix equal portions of the chilled beef stock with dongchimi water. Add vinegar, salt and sugar.

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4) Noodles Once the broth and garnish items are ready, boil four servings of noodles in water. When cooked, rinse the noodles in cold water several times, and drain. 5) Separate the noodles into four portions and place each portion into a large bowl. Place the sliced beef, pear, cucumber, radish and egg on top of the noodles, and gently pour in the broth. 6) Provide mustard, sugar and vinegar for seasoning depending on each diner's personal preferences.

To make naengmyeon noodles, buckwheat dough is placed in a cylindrical press with holes in the bottom and then pressure is applied from the top, which forces the dough through the small holes, forming noodles. 67

DISCOVERING KOREA

Oreum

of Jeju Island Kang Young-bong Professor of Korean Literature, Cheju National University

eju Island is "oreum kingdom." Mt. Hallasan, the island's main volcanic p,eak, stands tall over the land below, as if the creator of the approximately 330 oreum scattered about the island. Seen from the Âˇcoasts below or from high above, the round protrusions of the oreum naturally catch your eye. And since the oreum change color seasonally and look different from various angles, the appearance of the entire island-the kingdom-seems influenced by them. In Jeju dialect, oreum refers to what are called "parasitic volcanoes"-volcanic peaks formed by eruptions from side vents along the slopes or the skirts of the main volcano. Except for Mt. Hallasan, all the mountains and peaks on the volcanic island of Jeju are oreum. From a scientific point of view, oreum were formed as a result of volcanic activity, but to the people of Jeju, they are nature's works of art, created by desperation and yearning. According to Jeju myth, this was how the oreum were formed: Once upon a time, there lived an old woman named Seolmundaehalmang. She was so huge that when she lay down, with Mt. Hallasan as a pillow for her head, she

J Âˇ ~

The juice of dongchimi, watery radish kimchi, enhances the taste of naengmyeon (above). An old press for making naengmyeon noodles (below).

b uckwheat n oodles is o n e ca ll ed Chuncheon m akg uksu. While similar to Hamheung naengmyeon, it contains more vegetables and the noodles are slightly thicker. This dish originated in ÂˇGangwon-do, a mountainous province

w h ose capital is Chunch eon, which lends its name to this dish. The noodles are less glutinous than Pyeongyang and Hamheung naengmyeon because they call for greater amounts of buckw heat flour in the noodle dough. Recently, some food manufacturers have begun to add more starch to the noodles to make them more glutinous, which also contributes to cost-savings. It is generally said that the quality of naengmyeon depends on its broth, w hich is made by boiling meat. To prepare naengmyeon stock, meat (usually beef) is boiled for a long time, and the resulting bro t ~ is then combined with the liquid from dongchimi, a type of watery kimchi. Radish, scallions and some green p ~p p e r are the main ingredients of dongchimi. Water is poured over these ingredients, which are then left to ferment. : To prepare naengmyeon, the noodles are first boiled, drained, and left to cool. To serve, the noodles are placed in a

large bowl, garnished w ith slices of pear, radish, cucumber, and boiled egg, and then the broth is added. The dish is usually served w ith ice. Depending on personal tastes, vinegar and mustard can be added to the broth, while the noodles are eaten with chopsticks. Naengmyeon is generally eaten at restaurants rather than being prepared at home, but dried or fresh buckwheat noodles are available at grocery stores nowadays, making it more convenient to prepare at home. The following is a basic recipe for preparing naengmyeon at home. +

Ingredients for Four Servings 300 grams of beef (rib or shank meat) 15 cups of water 1 medium-sized scallion 3 cloves of garlic 300 grams of radish from dongchimi 1 pear (100g) 2 boiled eggs naengmyeon noodles (about 1.2 kg after boiling)

had to rest her legs on Gwantal Island, off the coast of Jeju. When this giant grandma washed her clothes, she held onto the summit of Hallasan after placing her laundry on Chuja Island, then scrubbed and rinsed the clothes with her feet. And when she worked on her loom, she had to place a lamp on Seongsan Sunrise Peak Back then, the people of Jeju were not able to travel freely to the mainland because the sea represented a formidable obstacle. Knowing this, Seolmundaehalmang offered to build a bridge that would connect the island to the mainland in exchange for a new undergarment. One hundred bundles of silk were needed to make the old woman's undergarment, so the people gathered together as much material as they could, but in the end, they had only 99 bundles. While they collected the silk, the old granny worked on the bridge, transporting the clay in the -folds of her skirt. The clumps of clay that slipped from her skirt and fell onto the island became the

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oreum. However, the people were unable to keep their promise to make the woman an undergarment as they lacked one bundle of silk, and thus the bridge was never completed. So the island of Jeju remains separated from the peninsula, surrounded by water. This myth suggests that the oreum were formed from the islanders' dispair and frustration. The color and shape of the oreum seem to be ever changing. They have a thousand faces depending on when and from where they are seen. This is how Kim Jong-cheol, "the oreum pilgrim," describes them: Spider Oreum "This oreum, lurching as if some kind of huge horned monster abou t to spring, is definitely one of Seolmundaehalmang's more whimsical creations, distinctive from the others. Some of its peaks look like a pyramid, some like a dome.: Some of its craters are shaped like a funnel, others like a basket. With

its ridges spread out like octopus legs, the mountain slopes are filled with "baby oreum," small like bird eggs, scattered across and also beneath the surface. They hold back the steps of the traveler with the beauty of their unique curves." [The Oreum Pilgrim, Vol.l, p.ll] BlackOreum "The crater at the mountaintop is shaped like a funnel, with a circumference of about 1,000 meters, its inside holding a sunken lake filled with dark, blue water. One of the few crater lakes among Jeju 's parasitic volcanoes, the lake also has the highest level of water, remaining full all year long. I do not know the exact depth of the lake, but I can tell from the opaque blue color of its water that it must be quite deep. The color, reflecting the color ~f the sky

Spring has come to the island as is evident from the colorful flowers alongside the road from Sinchon to Jocheon.

above and the forest that encircles the crater, captures my heart each season by. revealing nature's subtle changes. Its delicacy is hard to describe-a mysterious aura that is evident only to those who keep coming back, unable to forget its hues." [The Oreum Pilgrim, Vol. 3, p.l71) Ttarabi Oreum (Pyoseon-myeon) "Like its unusual name, Ttarabi Oreum has the most unique features among Jeju's many oreum. A number of large and small peaks stand together side by side, all connected in a single - svelte slope, forming a grand range. Because the hills are covered with a , sleek blanket of grass, their silhouette is revealed in vivid detail-the harmony of the up and down curves that make up the entire body, full of life. From the top, one can see a very peculiar geological phenomenon not appearing on any other oreum. There are three sunken craters grouped close together in a single spot. Their depth is

slightly different, but they are all similarly round in shape, harmonious and affectionate like volcanic triplets." [The Oreum Pilgrim, Vol. 3, p. 264) The oreum of Jeju seem to indeed have a thousand faces. In addition, the oreum have also had their moments in history. Back in the 13th century, China's Yuan Dynasty had its eyes set on Jeju 's oreum. The Mongol-Goryeo forces that landed on the island to step up their offensive against the Sambyeolcho (Three Elite Patrols) saw what an ideal setting the oreum provided and established grazing ranges for horses on Jeju. The chapter on horse breeding in Y uan History begins with descriptions of the grazing

A Goryeo-style five-story stone pagoda stands at Bultapsa Temple nearby the Wondang Oreum (left). The Wondang Oreum along the east coast (below).

land on Jeju. The landscape was geographically convenient for raising hors. es; the surrounding sea provided a natural fence along with grass growing from the coast toward the mountains in the spring and drying from the mid-slope toward the coast in the winter. The horses did not have to be corralled; they could simply be left to graze freely. Horse breeding began to flourish on the island when 160 horses were brought to Susanpyeong, Seongsan-eup in 1276, the second year of the reign of King Chungnyeol of the Goryeo Dynasty. On the east coast of Jeju City stands Won dang Ore urn. Made up of three ranges and seven peaks, the oreum is known for this myth about Queen Gi: A girl from the Gi family was taken as a servant to the palace, where she won the affection of the king and was made the second queen. The first thing she wanted when she became a queen was to give birth to a prince. Following the Âˇ

advice of a spiritual advisor that her wish would come true if she could find three ranges and seven peaks on an eastern coast where the life stream of the Big Dipper shone, then build a temple there and pray, she sent out an expert geomancer to search all the land under the rule of the Yuan Dynasty for such a site. And it was on Jeju that he found the three ranges and seven peaks, at what is known today as Wondang Oreum, or the Yuan Temple Oreum. As instructed, she built a temple there, after which she gave birth to a son. There is a five-tier stone pagoda on the grounds of the temple, built in the architectural style of the Goryeo period and engraved with saddle designs. The pago?a was designated Jeju Regional Tangible Cultural Asset No. 1 in 1971, and.its status has since been upgraded to !leasure. The Red Oreum in the town of Aewol is also known for its historical background, related to General Gim

Tong-cheong who led the Sambyeolcho. When his base on Toseong fell to Mongol-Goryeo forces in 1273, the general retreated with some 70 men to Red Oreum where he lost his final battle and took his own life, along with his wife's. The oreum was named for the blood of the defeated soldiers and General Gim and his wife. The oreum are where the people of Jeju make their living. In particular, cattle breeding once flourished there, while fields along the base of these volcanic ranges are used for farming. The thick forests on the skirts of the oreum have been cleared for cultivation by burning, with cows and horses often being used for farming, mostly for plowing. Ever since mustard flowers were

A field of golden rape flowers in bloom on Jeju Island with several oreum in the background.

introduced to Jeju as a specialty crop, the splendid scenery around the oreum has been further enhanced by seas of yellow blossoms. Hunting is also plentiful at the foot of oreum. The inclusion of an animal in the name of an oreum such as Gae (Dog) Oreum, Gwesalme (Cat) Oreum, Bichimi (Pheasant) Oreum, and Nori (Deer) Oreum indicates that these animals can be found in nearby areas. The oreum are also a source of fuel for the islanders where they gather Âˇ shrubs, trees, and fallen leaves to burn. In the old days, even cow and horse - dung were gathered to be dried and then used as fuel. These are all gifts from the oreum. The oreum are a source of livelihood for the living, and a final resting place for the dead. Not only sunny, cozy spots , but also the windy hilltops of the oreum provide a resting place for departed souls. The round mounds of the tombs themselves resemble the Âˇ oreum, the small clusters of tombs of varying sizes standing together as if they Âˇwere friendly neighbors. The tombs that stand alone have their own story, but those in groups simply indicate that the site is considered propi- tious according to geomantic principles. Jeju's culture can be described as a culture of rocks, with oreum being the -.._ foundation of this culture, as seen in the sandam that fence the tombs, the pairs of boy statues standing in front of tombs, and the wondam, temporary barricades for cattle. Sandam refer to oval-shaped or rectangular walls erected around tomb sites to keep cattle away and to function as a firewall when wildfires break out A single layer, oval-shaped sandam is built on the day of a funeral. In some cases these single-layer walls are erected when rocks are not readily available because the tomb is located deep in the mountains. But carefully constructed sandam include walls built in a rectangular shape, with two layers of tall walls and a layer of gravel and small

stones in between. One peculiar detail about the layered walls is that an entrance for the spirits is built into the wall. These entrances are called shimun, a term derived from the Chinese character-based word shinmun, the "door of gods." The door is located on the right when the deceased is a man and on the left for a woman. The descendants of the tomb occupant then use these symbolic doors when they visit the tomb.

The oreum are a source of livelihood for the living, and a final resting place for the dead. Not only sunny, cozy spots but also the windy hilltops of the oreum provide a resting place for departed souls. The round mounds of the tombs themselves resemble the oreum, the small clusters of tombs of varying sizes standing together as if they were friendly neighbors.

The sunken craters in the center of oreum are known as gumburi. Some contain lakes and others flat basins as large as an athletic field, fenced in by man-made walls. The enclosed gumburi are called wondam, and are used as makeshift areas for butchering or branding cattle. Won dam are circular and have an opening for herding in cattle. Oreum are homes for the gods. This

is easily discerned from the fact that the name Dang (Temple) Oreum is commonly used for various sites on Jejudo. Perhaps this is why the island is called the "home of the gods." Oreum and their foothills are also fertile ground for all sorts of flora and fauna. The various plants that bloom and wither with the seasons do not compete with one another but survive independently, whether they be magnificent blossoms or frail, delicate beauties. There are about 1,800 indigenous plant species that have been discovered on Jejudo, significantly more than the 820 species on Mt. Jirisan or 950 species on Mt. Seoraksan. This great diversity no doubt results from the unique environment provided by Mt. Hallasan and its surrounding oreum. The resulting geography is a mix of marshes, dry lands and bodies of water. The warm climate and plentiful precipitation also contribute to the diversity of plant life. The indigenous species usually have Jeju or Halla as part of their names, like Jeju dalguji, Jeju yangji, Jeju jorittae, Jeju hwanggi, Halla gaeseungma, Halla gujeolcho, Halla dolchangpo, Halla doljjeogwi, and Halla jangguchae. A noteworthy example is the blood roots plant, which can be found in the northeast part of the island but nowhere else in Korea. The name comes from the plant's red roots and flowers. The island's historical connection to the Mongols is evident in the fact that this plant can be seen all across Mongolia. The life of the islanders has long been tied to oreum. The oreum are where they grow up, live, die and are laid to rest. The oreum are where the Three Man-gods, the mythical founders of Jeju, lived, and also where Seolmundaehalmang, the builder of Jeju, died Jeju's unique rock culture provides beautiful scenery, which is even more enjoyable due to the history and culture it embodies. As a poet once said "There are winds, echoes, colors and scents in the oreum of Jeju-simply breathtaking." + 73

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LIVING

~nr

Beating the Summer Heat

Mosi C L 0 T H

N G

Kim Byeong-Mee Professor, Kongju National University

osi is the Korean version of ramie, a natural fabric that is airy and absorbent. Its seemingly coarse yet actually gentle and light te:xtw-e makes it ideal for wearing during Korea's hot, humid summers. There is an elegance in the way the fabric does not cling to the l:xx:ly yet allows its outline to be vaguely discerned, which goes well with the flowing silhouette of traditional Korean dress and understated feminine grace of Korean women. jeopo, a type of mosi fabric, has been described as "dragonfly wings" for its especially delicate woven finish. These qualities have led to a resurgence in mosi's popularity as a fabric with a light, fresh and delicate look and subtle sensuality. It is particularly suited for older people whose matw-e dignity complements the delicacy of the mosi. Despite the fabric's wrinkle-prone textw-e and high maintenance, people find the refined gentility of mosi clothing quite appealing. Accordingly, mosi clothing is typically worn on special occasions as formal wear. The distinctive qualities of mosi can be achieved only through weaving methods that require a high level of skill and attention--Dn a handloom, just like Marked by the graceful silhouette of traditional Korean dress, clothes made of ramie embody the feminine grace of Korean women. 74

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in the old days. Despite the fact that refined cotton fabrics from long ago such as myeongju and mumyeong have given way to synthetic and machinemade materials, mosi is still cherished as Korea's traditional fabric. It is said that the mosi plant was discovered during the Baekje Kingdom (18 B.C.-AD. 660) on Mt. Geonjisan, in what is now the town of Jihyeon-ri, Hansanmyeon, Seocheon-gun, Chungcheongnam-do province-long recognized as the home of mosi products. An old man who was looking for medicinal herbs noticed a tall plant in the woods and thought that it could be used to weave cloth, so he started cultivating it. In the Three Kingdoms period (1st century B.C.A.D. 7th century), the people of Baekje developed exceptional weaving skills, with their renown reaching as far as Japan. And as the techniques were further advanced during the Goryeo Dynasty (918-1392), baekjeo, white mosi, came to be used for clothing for royalty, high-ranking officials and even commoners. Baekjeo was known to neighboring countries as a specialty of Goryeo, and was imported by Tang China.

There is an elegance in the way the fabric does not cling to the body yet allows its outline to be vaguely discerned, which goes well with the flowing silhouette of the traditional Korean dress and understated feminine grace of Korean women.

During the Joseon Dynasty, the excessive demand for mosi created a social problem. Consequently, in 1523, the 17th year of tl1e reign of King Jungjong (r. 1506-1544t a royal decree was imposed that limited the thread count of mosi fabric according to social class. This measure resulted in a drastic reduction in mosi production, and along with the degeneration of weaving techn<;>logy, high-quality mosi almost disappeared However, the mosi tradition had been preserved in the so-called Seven Jeopo Capitals-Hansan,

Seosan, Hongsan, Bi-in, Imsan, Jeogsan and Nampo-and its popularity endured Japanese colonial rule (1910-1945) as well. But with the emergence of new materials following Korea's liberation from Japan, demand for mosi steadily diminished. In the 1980s, natural fabrics made a fashion comeback around the world, making mosi popular again. But in the late 1980s Chinese mosi began to be imported by way of Hong Kong, with its low price again cutting into demand for Hansan mosi. Mosi is made from the inner skin of the mosi plant, or Boehmeria, which belongs to the Urticaceae family and flourishes in warm, humid regions, similar to the ramie plant grown in tropical regions. In Korea, it is grown in the Chungcheong-do, Jeolla-do, and Gyeongsang-do provinces where the climate .and environment are conducive to its cultivation. The area around the town of

Starching and then proper fulling of the starched fabric must be done before ironing because the beauty of ramie clothing depends on proper care.

Hansan in Seocheon, the southernmost tip of Chungcheongnam-do, boasts ideal conditions for producing the fines~ highquality mosi, such that fine Hansan mosi has long distinguished itself as a regional specialty. Boehmeria is a perennial plant whose roots grow new sprouts in spring. It can survive 15-20 years in one spot and can be transplanted every 4 or 5 years for breeding. Vulnerable to cold temperatures, after enduring the winter the plant grows sprouts in the spring that reach about two meters in height. When the leaves around the bottom of the stem start to dry, the stalks can be cut down A first crop can be harvested at the end of June, a second from the middle to the end of Augs~ and a third from the middle to the end of October. The second crop usually yields the best quality material for weaving. Around November, after the third crop has been harvested and winter is about to start, the fields are covered with hay or straw mats to keep the ground warm. New stalks will start to sprout again the following April The inner skin of the stalk is used for weaving fabric. The bark is peeled off,

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leaving the soft but durable inner skin. This skin is repeatedly soaked in water and dried in the sun It becomes what is called tae-mosi, a simple form of mosi that can be woven into cloth. After soaking in water, the tae-mosi is torn into thin strips, which are then spun into long threads used for weaving. The mosi plant from Hansan produces such fine fabric because it can be torn into very thin strips, and then spun into threads using a special technique, ideal for producing a smooth, tight weave of superior quality.

Mosi requires painstaking care not only in its production, from growing the plant to weaving, but also in maintaining the condition of completed garments. Mosi clothing needs to be washed carefully by hand to keep the weave from loosening, and after each washing, it needs to be treated with starch just the same as when the clothing was first sewn. The starched clothing is pounded with clubs on a fulling block to smooth the starch on the fabric and to straighten any strands that have been twisted out of place in the course of washing and starching. When the fulling is completed, the clothing is placed on a wooden roller to smooth out any wrinkles and to finish the time-consuming, delicate process. The starching and post-starching processes are extremely critical in caring for mosi clothing; mosi cannqt look its best without starching and if the fulling is not done properly, the clothing will be

A traditional ramie garment is created through the meticulous needlework of Ko Jeom-rye, a veteran ramie dressmaker (left, below).

ruined. Mosi clothing has a tendency to curl up at the hems when temperatures are.cool, while edges exposed to abrasion fray easily-which is why mosi is suited to wearing during the peak summer months. In ancient times, Koreans had the wisdom to control the starching so that mosi could also be worn in late spring and early fall. In summer, mosi clothes are made more airy by lightly pounding the starched fabric, so as to improve its ventilation. And in late spring and early fall, insulation is 路 enhanced by pounding the starch to close up all the gaps in"the weave. Mung - bean paste, made from mung bean powder, was sometimes mixed in with the , rice starch to prevent the fabric from sticking together in the pressing process, while glutinous rice was occasionally added when making the starch in order , to produce a smoother finish. While a piece of clothing is still damp with starch, it is folded up, then pressed with the bare fe~ repeatedly folding the clothing 路 to even out the effects of the foot-pressing. Then the clothing is placed on a fulling block for pounding, again being repeatedly folded for a smooth look In the course of all this pressing and pounding, the clothing gradually dries out and the weave is straightened out And finally the clothing is wrapped around a wooden roller and pounded again one last time to ensure that no wrinkles remain, the weave is even, and the texture stiff. At the end of summer, mosi garments need to be washed thoroughly to get rid of any trace of starch before being carefully packed away. And the next summer, the clothing needs to again be treated and starched as described earlier. Mosi clothing requires delicate sewing for a stylish look The different parts of the garment should be cut and sewn together following the weave of the fabric. If the weave has not been straightened out through starching and pounding, the sewing will be very difficult, resulting in a badly tailored finish. The elegance of a mosi hanbok depends on

how neatly the collar line wraps around the neck; a collar pulled too far back ruins the look of the hanbok jeogori, or jacket The closure ribbon should be a bit narrower and shorter than conventional hanbok, while the skirt should reveal the tips of the pointed gomushin (rubber shoes) or peoseon (traditional padded socks). It is also recommended that the skirt be tailored without the shoulder straps and to adjust the closure of the wrap skirt over the chest in order to retain the natural silhouette of the mosi hanbok An undershiJ.t should always be worn with a mosi blouse, and a slip under the skitt. Another thing to remember when wearing mosi clothing is that it easily wrinkles; especially when sitting down, it is. advisable to make sure the rear patt o.f the skirt is not folded on the seat whil~ ~ the skirt flaps should spread slightly outward to avoid sitting on them, which also eilhances the graceful silhouette of the garment. Mosi is路 recognized for its distinctive whiteness, which is acquired by bleaching the yellow hue from the natural mosi. This was how mosi was worn traditionally, although occasionally a reddish yellow tone was added by using gardenia seeds soaked in warm water, or an indigo dye was applied to create a light blue hue to make the clothing appear cooler in summer. White has always been popular among Koreans, long known as the "people in white," while white summer clothing has a visually cooling appearance. But in order to better cater to the diverse tastes and color fashions of modern consumers, adopting a full spectrum of colors for mosi is absolutely necessary and long over due. A traditional natural fabric such as mosi takes well to natural dyes. However, the biggest problem with natural dyes is that the color is not permanent. But since mosi must be hand washed, starched and pressed each time it is worn, more color or even a brand The ethereal silhouette and chaste beauty of the ramie dress.

new color can be added with each washing. It is inconvenient compared to permanent chemical dyes, but on the other hand, applying different colors to the same garment for various occasions can be an appealing option. In today's fast-paced world, starching is no doubt a very unfamiliar and inconvenient process and even the most exquisitely tailored mosi clothing can end up useless after being worn just once, if it is not starched properly. For mosi clothing to be fully enjoyed by more people, a systematic care and maintenance service system is required Fine Hansan mosi boasts a higher quality and longer life then imported mosi, but not always knowing this, consumers m路e hesitant to pay the premium price for Hansan mosi. An established system of certifying and publicizing the superior quality of Hansan mosi will help consumers to make an informed choice. Moreover, in order to highlight the differences between Hansan mosi clothing and cheaper imports, Hansan mosi clothing needs to be commercially developed and marketed as a handmade specialty product with innovative designs and patterns based on traditional motifs and through research on natural dyes and new color schemes. +

MASTERPIECES

Peach-shaped

Celadon Water Dropper Yu Hong-june Professor of Art History, Yeungnam National University

t is generally believed that the celadon ware of the Goryeo Dynasty (918-1392) came into full bloom in the 12th century during the reigns of kings lnjong (r. 11231146) and Uijong (r. 1147-1170). Unadorned pottery with celadon glaze reached its peak during the days of King Injong in the first half of the century whereas pottery with decorative designs "inlaid under the celadon glaze attained its zenith in the latter half of the century during the reign of King Uijong. Although it is difficult to establish an accurate chronology of Goryeo celadon development due to the scarcity of relics with reliable dating, there are two pieces with known dates that are helpful in this regard. The first is a melonshaped celadon vase excavated from Jangnung (located in Jangdan-gun, Gyeonggi-do province), the tomb of King lnjong who died in 1146, and the second is a celadon bowl with floral and arabesque designs inlaid under the glaze, excavated from the tomb of Mun Gong-yu, a renowned literati-official who died in 1159. The former is an unadorned celadon of the highest order whereas the latter is an exceptional example of the underglaze inlaying technique. There is also a Chinese document that confirms our belief that the second quarter of the 12th century was when

undecorated celadon was at its peak. Hsu .Ching, an envoy to Goryeo from Northern Song's Emperor Huizong, enthusiastically praised the celadon of th.e country in Kao-li t'u-ching (An fllustrated Account of Goryeo), a travelogue he wrote after a two-month stay in Korea in 1123: "Goryeo people

A branch dotted with tiny peach blossom buds is attached to the back of the peach to add stability to the overall form. The spout of the adorable water dropper is a leaf , pouting prettily.

describe the blue-green glaze of celadon as the color of jade. Their celadon technique has been refined so much recently that they produce wonderfully beautiful colors, their ware looking similar to the new works from Song's Ru -yao

kiln." This commentary confirms that the

"jade color celadon" was legendary, with Goryeo's celadon ware being of a quality comparable to Ru-yao celadon, the best of the celadon ware of Song China. This leads us to believe that the Goryeo celadon masterpieces extant today are mostly from the 12th century. The peach-shaped celadon water dropper introduced here also dates from the 12th century. Part of the collection of the Hoam Museum, it is a true masterpiece of Goryeo celadon ware. Small enough to fit snugly in one's hand, some might consider it to be disappointingly small, but it is actually a very practical size for its purpose- to drip water drop by drop onto an inkstone. It looks quite realistic because it is about the size of a real peach. A branch dotted with tiny peach blossom buds is attached to the back of the peach to add stability to the overa!l form. The spout of this adorable water dropper is Âˇ a leaf pouting prettily. The water dropper is the embodiment of a highly sophisticated plastic artistry, a masterful presentation of a peach as the primary motif along with a branch, blossoms and leaves as complementary ornamentation. Why is a peach the subject for a water dropper? Because peaches were traditionally associated with the venerable Taoist hermits as well as the light and purity they symbolized. The her-

rnits were said to lead a blissful life in the Peach Garden far beyond the worries of the mundane world as they indulged in delectable peaches. Nevertheless, the beauty emanating from this peach-shaped water dropper is quite distinct from the ambience of Taoist ascetics. It is rather a delightful, endearing feeling, a cuteness that makes you want to touch and fondle it. Its shape is quite erotic, but then peaches are often identified with the female . body due to their likeness to women's breasts and derrieres. Eroticism is even more pronounced in the peach-shaped porcelain water droppers produced during the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910). The , pointed tips of some are highlighted with red oxidized iron glaze. Whenever I look at this water dropper, it invariably causes me to think that : its original owner was not much of a scholar. In ancient days when a scholar had to grind an ink stick on an inkstone to prepare ink for writing, while grind. ing the ink stick he would have had to hold the water dropper in one hand to drip water onto the inkstone. Holding this partie. ular water dropper, however, is so much like caressing a woman that by the time he "' had prepared enough ink, he would likely have been too distracted to earnestly engage in any scholarly pursuits. The quality of a ceramic work is generally based on three factors: form, color and decorative design. This celadon water dropper is exquisite in terms of its sculptural form and jade-green color of perfect clarity, but it includes no decorative patterns. Decorative patterns or the lack thereof seems to have been the greatest challenge for the Goryeo potters of unadorned celadon ware.

Because of the glass-like, reflective smoothness of its surface, celadon ware is not suited to decorative patterns. Although it is practically second nature for pottery to incorporate diverse patterns on its surface, this is not the case with the unadorned celadon ware. Rather than creating decorative enhancement, patterns engraved or embossed in relief on the surface were more often than not detrimental to the smooth finish of the piece. Few efforts were made, therefore, to incorporate decorative patterns during the period of undecorated celadon, however, significant diversity and innovation were nevertheless achieved through a variety of shapes and sculptural techniques. Melon-shaped vases, ewers in ~he shape of bamboo shoots, gourd-like bottles, and water droppers shaped like ducks or even people ar~ examples of the creativity of the potters of unadorned

celadon, this adorable peach w ater dropper being not the least of these. Eventually celadon potters overcame this problem with the inlay technique. Designs were inlaid in black or white onto a blue-green background, with occasional smatterings of red for contrast Inlay was a unique technique developed by Goryeo potters unimagined by the Chine.se artisans who invented celadon. This is why we often rely on inlaid designs to identify the authenticity of Goryeo celadon pottery, but it should not be forgotten that the period of unadorned celadon was also rich with masterpieces such as this exquisite water dropper. Ingrained with the refinm~ elegance and humor of the G01yeo people, this peach-shaped celadon water dropper is a truly valuable treasure that represents the best of Korea. â&#x20AC;˘

Peach-shaped celadon water dropper

lA rt ReviewI

A GALLERY ON WHEELS

The Art Train Kim Sung-il Researcher, Seoul Cultural Theory Research Center

With the Art Train, the subway-a public area where people naturally gather- is being utilized as an exhibition site. In addition to making art more accessible, the project has created

abond between artists

and city dwellers by presenting works that are easy to understand and appreciate.

eading toward your destination, staring blankly out the subway windows at the dark tunnels, you are overcome with ennui. Sitting in bench seats facing one another, you have that awkward feeling of not quite knowing where to fix your gaze. Overcome with weariness as you brace yourself once more for the commute hour melee, you struggle to squeeze into the subway car. This scene is all too familiar for anyone who rides the Seoul subway. The subway's one-and-only selling point, up to now, has been the reliability of its travel time. For this reason, word that the subway's aesthetics are changing is most welcome news. Even though this has not provided a miracle cure to the dreaded experience of the rush-hour commute, it does represent a notable endeavor. Seoul residents who have never taken the subway now have a reason to ride it just for the novelty. Of significance, this change represents a

shift from thinking of the subway in exclusively functional terms, as a reliable means of getting from point A to point B. Seoulites' curiosity in this subway project reflects their interest in personally experiencing the joys and fascinating sights that the subway now provides. Who is responsible for this aesthetic makeover of the Seoul subway? It is the "Art Train," a project designed to transform the subway into a moving gallery that can provide passengers with a cultural experience. This avant-garde effort is a new public art project that will enable Seoul residents to easily and comfortably admire the world of modern art. Going beyond conventional notions of art as primarily involving painting, the project features a diverse range of genres that provide a threedimensional experience through such works as video art, live performances and free-standing creations. Until now,

fine art exhibitions have typically been held at specific venues such as galleries. Modern art, with its abstract and experimental emphasis, has been particularly inaccessible to the gen. eral public. However, with the Art Train, the subway- a public area where people naturally gather-is being utilized as an exhibition site. In addition to making art more accessible, the project has created a bond between artists and city dwellers by presenting works that are easy to both understand and appreciate. Particularly noteworthy are the Art Train projects being staged on Lines 3, 6 and 7. First, on Line 3, the Cine Train 2001 Project, which got underway on

April 6, will run for two months through June 6. This project, representing-the confluence of movies-the most popular art genre-and the subway-the most popular form of public transportation-is sure to make subways appear more familiar and entertaining, by allowing residents to enjoy a movie festival replete with fantasy and cherished memories. Various movie themes were selected, and subway cars were decorated, inside and out, with movie-related graphics and artifacts to make commuters feel as if they have entered a theater. To create this atmosphere, · movie highlights are simultaneously presented on eight monitors mounted , in each subway car. In addition, various props used in popular movies are displayed along with photographs. To commemorate the opening of • Line 6, Video Art Gallery on Wheels · -Digital Travels is being featured as part of the Wow Project. In viewing the digital technology at the forefront of our · information society through the imaginative lens of art, this project provides a new perspective on nature, the environment and life-critical issues confronting modern society. This art is intended to have subway passengers reflect on whether our technology-oriented civilization will really provide humanity with a new means of advancement or "" merely result in our alienation. To highlight this question, passengers are shown a hologram of male and female nudes and a projected image of people scurrying helter-skelter in an endless rat race while animal and insect sounds can be heard in the background. In addition, there are exhibits depicting the ocean surface, the sounds of waves, the ocean bottom, and other things not normally seen in urban centers such as dragon flies, beetles and garden spiders. Such displays encourage people to reflect upon the relationship between modern civilization and nature. Meanwhile, on Line 7, the City Rail Cultural Gallery IV-Dream Metro, which was launched on March 13, will

The Art Train project has transformed subway coaches into galleries and the subway into a moving museum that brings art and the public together.

continue for six months until August 31. With four showings during the week and six on weekends and holidays, this project is centered around works by female artists which express feminine sentiments. For this project, the subway train has been decorated with paintings and sculptures by active women artists

in their 20s and 30s. The wooden floor, along with the bath and toilet furnishings of the display, offer a refreshing oasis for weary passengers. Each car of the Line 7 train has been set up according to a unique theme. In "I Am Happy" the space of the subway car has been completely transformed into a bath81

room, while "A Woman's Happiness" expresses women's joys and happiness and "It's Raining Now" conjures up a rainy scene. The "Teahouse" themed car has a retro feel, re-creating the exotic ambience of an old-fashioned teahouse, and in "Playroom in Heaven" the subway car becomes a kids' playroom. The operation of the Art Train has, more than an ything else, helped to lower the walls separating the general public from art. Until now, the world of culture and art has been presented through a hierarchical dichotomy of refined and popular art, which has posed a major obstacle in preventing the average person from readily appreciating culture and art. The operation of the Art Train has demonstrated a more direct approach by facilitating personal contact with art among the general public. As such, the elitist, biased view that "It's nice if they understand, but if they don't, it can't be helped," is quickly disappearing. The Art Train operated on Line 7

from August 1 to December 31 of last year featured over 600 showings to an average of 5,600 people per day and 7,800 during weekends and holidays, with some 700,000 people viewing the exhibitions. This remarkable response evidences the receptiveness of Seoul residents to quality art. The Art Train mu st not become a one-time event, there has certain! y been enough interest to ensure its continuance. For this, it will be necessary to organize and present exhibitions that strike a harmonious chord between artistic creativity and the aesthetics of average people. Further concrete research and exploration should thus be undertaken on this issue. â&#x20AC;˘ :

"To the Woods," part of the Wow Project on the' Line 6 subway, creates an illusion that paSsengers are in a forest (below). From the top, ''Way of Life, Way of Destiny" (Line 6), "A Flight as a Light'' (Line 6), and "Bathroom" (Line 7, Dream M etro) in "I Am Happy''

JOURNEYS IN KOREAN LITERATURE

Hwang Sun-won 83

ore than 50 years have passed since Korea's liberation from Japanese colonial rule. Although the literary scene is thriving with numerous writers active in various genres, there are few who have devoted their entire lives to the craft of writing fiction and have been able to convey a mature outlook on the world in their works. Hwang Sun-won, who recently passed away, was such a writer. He enjoys a special place in Korean literature thanks to his lifelong dedication to pursuing the pure refinement of literature, through the turmoil of upheaval and perversion that has dominated our times.

Hwang S-un-won True-Pillar of Korean Literature KimJong-hoi Professor of Korean Literature, Kyunghee University

the world in their works.

His achievements remain with us in the form of 104 poems, 104 short stories, 1 novella and 7 novels. His novels mark the high points of his writing, a genre he arrived at in the latter part of his career, after starting out with poetry and then moving on to short stories. This progression of genres reveals that he made a leap from the craft of synecdoche to that reflecting a broader look at life's truths through a web of meaning expressed in more substantive works. This is evident in the distinction between the pure lyrical mood captured in short stories, such as "The Cloudburst" and "Cranes," and the multifaceted epic worlds depicted in The Moving Castle or The Dice of the

Hwang Sun-won, who

Gods.

Although the literary scene is thriving with numerous writers active in various genres, there are few who have devoted their entire lives to the craft of writing fiction and have been able to convey a mature outlook on

recently passed away, was such a writer.

Like most literature students, I first encountered the name Hwang Sun-won through "The Cloudburst," which was included in my middle school textbook Even at that young age, I was struck by

the beauty of the story and wondered what writer of such refinement and stature could have written it, and how great it would be to get to know such a person. Later, as Hwang's student and as a scholar of his writing, I realized that "The Cloudburst" and "Cranes" were no random achievements, but highlights of his maturing creativity reached en route to his delving into novels. In the classroom, Hwang did not deliver lectures of brilliant intellect or poignant explanation. Although as a writer he spent his days working with words, when speaking, his words were not flamboyant, nor rushed like water passing through narrow rapids. He always spoke slowly, cautiously choosing his words, taking in the order of things. His voice was always gentle, but when a judgment or decision was called for, his tone would express a firm determination. Simply having him as a teacher was a great inspiration to aspiring students of literature and the long list of his proteges who have gone on to become writers is proof of this. The list includes ]eon Sangguk, Kim Yong-seong, Jo Hae-il, Jeong Ho-seung, Lee Yu-beom, Goh Won-jeong, Park Deok-gyu, Kim Hyeong-gyeong, Lee Hye-gyeong, and Seo Ha-jin, all of whom would acknowledge the significant impact their former teacher had on their careers. Hwang was renowned for never doing any kind of "miscellaneous" writing, claiming "a writer should speak only through his works." This resolute pur. posefulness resulted in the publication of eight of his poems filled with imagery as vivid as ever, when he was 78. Hwang's writing was born of a respect for the beauty and purity of the human spirit and for human dignity and nobility, which he faithfully maintained throughout his writing career. This respect was what kept him writing in Korean during the Japanese colonial period, even when the Korean language was prohibited, works that would not be

published or read by anyone, works that where they are caught in a sudden had to remain hidden. This also resulted cloudburst. in a recurring motif in his works-the The health of the weak and ailing girl, struggle to restore humanity in the face a descendant of a collapsing family, of dire circumstances-and is the reason worsens after getting caught in the rain why he has come to be remembered in and she dies. Before she dies, she asks to the history of Korean literature as a be buried in her sweater, which got romantic humanist stained when the boy carried her on his Hwang Sun-wan's fiction is a majestic back to cross the rapid currents of the peak within the mountain range of swelling river. Korean literature, each work a rich and What is impo1tant in this work is not dense representation of his world, the plot. Hwang's style of prose draws in deeply moving and refined. This recognithe readers through descriptions that are . tion is a salute not only to his works, but simple yet clear. Not only the lovely story but the precision in his choice of also to his prominent presence in the - course of Korea's modern history, words and the refinement of sentences marked by his determination to stand tall play an important role in moving the and noble like a deep-rooted tree amid reader. the repeated hardships of the Korean The sto~y is immensely pleasurable, people. without a single moment of distraction "The Cloudburst," Hwang's most from the gleaming, green pastoral world , widely known work, is a relatively simthat is portrayed so vividly. Simply by ple short story that nonetheless reflects . following the events of this finely structhe essence of Hwang's writing. Among tured story line, readers can experience literature as a medium of emotional his short fiction, it is probably the work Âˇ that best reveals his literary traits and involvement, capable of tapping deep qualities. into the soul. The story was included in his 1956 Clear, minute details and the two charcollection Crane, which includes 14 stoacters' endearing reactions to the comries written between 1953 and 1955. The monplace events that occur in the story stories feature characters trying to hold are woven together so tightly that they _on to the compassion of humanity create a taut web of lyricism and literary despite the extreme hardships in the expression, which lifts this story to a years following the Korean War. lofty level. "" "The Cloudburst" represents the apex This is such a widely recognized and of this stage in Hwang's writing. It is such often-discussed aspect of the story, but I a profound presentation of a subtle emohave to emphasize that the story's endtional connection between a boy and a ing is no doubt among the girl, an exchange so tender and frail that most masterful moone does not dare call it love. ments in Hwang's This story, along with "Cranes" and works-arguably in the "Grit," was translated into English and history of short fiction in Korea as well. The published in Britain and the United States. "The Cloudburst" also won a short boy learns of the girl's story competition sponsored by the death, but boldly, Hwang British literary journal Encounte1: does not reveal the boy's The main characters in the story are a reaction-a highly aesthetic country boy and the great-granddaughdisplay of literary craftsmanter of the once-prominent Yun family ship that confirms his lifetime who had recently moved from Seoul. of dedication to his writing. They meet at a brook by chance, then "The Cloudburst" presents as clearly and poignantly as a neehike across a field to the mountains

Hwang's writing was born of a respect for the beauty and purity of the human spirit and for human dignity and nobility, which he faithfully maintained throughout his writing career. This respect was what kept him writing in Korean during the Japanese colonial period, even when the Korean language was prohibited, works that would not be published or read by anyone, works that had to remain hidden .

die prick to one's finger, what pure emotions the human heart is capable of, and how precious such emotions can be. It is an understatement to say that we Koreans are fortunate to have a writer such as Hwang Sun-won, and a work like "The Cloudburst" as part of our literary heritage. +

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