Koreana Winter 2009 (English)

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Rural Elementary Schools ISSN 1016-0744

BEAUTY OF KOREA

Yagyeon Traditional Medicine Mortar

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© Ahn Hong-beom

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or the preparation of Korea’s traditional medicine, herbs would be dried and ground into powder, or pressed to extract their liquid. In the case of grinding and mixing, various implements were used, such as the mortar (yagyeon).

The yagyeon developed from the grinding stones of the Neolithic period. After fire, grinding stones were the most important tool that led to revolutionary change and improvement in the everyday life of prehistoric people.

Archaeological excavations and research studies have found that grinding stones were used to grind and process grains and herbs, as well as medicinal ingredients.

Along with the advancement of agricultural cultivation, the grinding stone became indispensible, while continuous usage resulted in a natural cavity in the stone’s surface, which eventually evolved into the common yagyeon form of modern times. The crudely shaped cavity of early stones was later crafted into a refined, boat-like form, while yagyeon came to be made from a wide variety of materials, such as bronze, brass, wood, celadon, white porcelain, glazed earthenware, and glass. For the royal palace, handcrafted mortars would be made from silver, jade, and agate. This diversity of material reflects efforts to optimize

the efficacy of the herbal ingredients ground up for traditional medicine.

A yagyeon is said to embody the harmony of yin and yang. Medicinal herbs, placed in the middle cavity, are ground with the back-and-forth movement of a roller-type pestle, through a harmonious juncture of the mortar and pestle surfaces. In line with the principles of yin and yang, the natural herbs are combined and processed in order to maximize the traditional medicine’s potency and remedial efficacy. The pestles used with a Korean yagyeon are usually thick and tapered along the edge, whereas the Japanese and Chinese versions tend to be thinner with sharper edges.

A yagyeon’s outer surface is often decorated with the ten symbols of longevity, or fish, frog, or dragon images, or engraved with auspicious messages. A yagyeon found at the royal palace, prominent herbal medicine clinics, and homes of noble families might have a length of more than one meter. This wooden yagyeon, of average size, measures about 50 centimeters across (Songhac Folk Museum). Of note, it is elaborately decorated with the head and forepaws of a mythical lion-like creature, known as haetae, carved on each end.

Korean Art & Culture

Vol.23, No.4 Winter 2009

The 100-year-old Namhansan Elementary School, which had been on the verge of being closed, has been revitalized through the implementation of an innovative curriculum. Š Hwang Young-dong

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Rural Elementary Schools

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8 Background of Elementary Education in Korea Cho Younsoon 14 Rural Elementary Schools: A Model for More Innovative Education Im Youn-Kee

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20 Former Rural Schools Revived as Community Facilities Kim Dang 26 Lifelong Memories of a Rural Elementary School Kim Hwa-young 68

30 FOCUS Far-reaching Impact of 2009 International Astronautical Congress Kim Seung-jo

36 Interview Jung Yeondoo Media Artist Jung Yeondoo Seeks to Bring Dreams to Life Kang Seungwan

42 Artisan Shoemaker Hwang Hae-bong Handcrafts ‘Shoes of the Wind’ Park Hyun Sook

48 MASTERPIECES Stone Lantern with Crouching Lions of Godalsa Temple Site Park Kyoung-shik

52 ART REVIEW Namhansanseong : A Breakthrough for Korean Musicals 58

| Won Jong-Won

Published quarterly by The Korea Foundation 2558 Nambusunhwan-ro, Seocho-gu, Seoul 137-863, Korea PUBLISHER Yim Sung-joon EDITORIAL DIRECTOR Hahn Young-Hee EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Park Jeong-yeop EDITORIAL BOARD Cho Sung-taek, Han Kyung-koo, Han Myung-hee, Jung Joong-hun, Kim Hwa-young, Kim Moon-hwan, Kim Youngna COPY EDITOR Dean Jiro Aoki LAYOUT & DESIGN Kim’s Communication Associates ASSOCIATE EDITOR Lim Sun-kun PHOTO DIRECTOR Kim Sam ART DIRECTOR Lee Duk-lim DESIGNER Kim Su-hye Subscription Price for annual subscription: Korea — W 18,000, Asia by air US$33, elsewhere by air US$37 Price per issue in Korea — W 4,500 Subscription/circulation correspondence: The U.S. and Canada Koryo Book Company 1368 Michelle Drive St. Paul, MN 55123-1459 Tel: 1-651-454-1358 Fax: 1-651-454-3519 Other areas including Korea The Korea Foundation 2558 Nambusunhwanno, Seocho-gu, Seoul 137-863, Korea Tel: 82-2-2151-6544 Fax: 82-2-2151-6592

DISCOVERING KOREA Earl Jackson, Jr.

Earl Jackson, Jr. Finds a Heartfelt Home in Korea Hwang Sun-Ae

62 ON THE GLOBAL STAGE Oh Eunsun Oh Eunsun’s Quest to Climb the Himalaya’s Highest Peaks Shin Young-chul

68 ON THE ROAD Gimcheon

Gimcheon’s Ancient Temples and Famed Pure Water

| Kim Hyungyoon

76 CUISINE Oyster Rice: Flavorful and Hearty, an Ideal Dish for Winter Shim Young Soon

ADVERTISING CNC Boom co,. Ltd Towercrystal Building, 1008-1, Daechi 3-dong, Gangnam-gu, Seoul 135-851, Korea Tel: 82-2-512-8928 Fax: 82-2-512-8676 LAYOUT & DESIGN Kim’s Communication Associates 398-1 Seogyo-dong, Mapo-gu, Seoul, 121-840, Korea Tel: 82-2-335-4741 Fax: 82-2-335-4743 www.gegd.co.kr Printed in Winter 2009 Samsung Moonwha Printing Co. 274-34, Seongsu-dong 2-ga, Seongdong-gu, Seoul 133-831, Korea Tel: 82-2-468-0361/5

Koreana Internet Website http://www.koreana.or.kr

80 LIVING

Korea’s Blogging Culture and the Power Blogger 85

| Charles La Shure

JOURNEYS IN KOREAN LITERATURE

Yi Mun-yol

The Consummate Storyteller: Yi Mun-yol | Jung Hong-su An Anonymous Island | Translated by Heinz Insu Fenkl

© The Korea Foundation 2009 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without the prior permission of the Korea Foundation.

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

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

Rural Elementary Schools From the time of Korea’s adoption of a formal education system and the opening of elementary schools, those in countryside areas have served as centers for education in the local community. Rural elementary schools experienced a crisis when student enrollment dwindled steadily due to Korea’s urbanization; but, they have enjoyed a comeback recently as hands-on environmental learning and humanist-related education have come to the forefront. Indeed, the vital role that rural elementary schools have played in the development of Korea’s education system is well-deserving of a careful evaluation.

Koreana | Winter 2009

Namhansan Elementary School, in Sanseong-ri, Jungbu-myeon, Gwangju, Gyeonggi-do Province.

Winter 2009 | Koreana

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start date for formal education cannot be determined with any certainty, since it resulted from a gradual development process. Education was not a part of the ancient society, of the Paleolithic, Neolithic, Bronze, and Iron Ages, aside from efforts to promote religious beliefs and prevailing ideology.

During the time of Gojoseon (?-108 B.C.), societal measures reflected the importance of human life and private property, which needed to be learned by people through some form of education.

Local Private Schools During the Three Kingdoms period (1st century B.C.A.D. 7th century) and the Unified Silla period (A.D. 668-935), Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism served as a foundation for traditional thought, while historical records indicate the existence of formal education around this time. For example, the Goguryeo Kingdom (37 B.C.-A.D. 668) maintained private schools (gyeongdang ) that provided instruction from the elementary-school level up to the equivalent of university

Background of Elementary Education in Korea While modern education has served to combat illiteracy and provide citizens with a solid cultural grounding, elementary education today includes a focus on respecting the diversity of individual students. In order to fully appreciate the importance of Korea’s rural elementary schools, it would be helpful to understand the background of elementary education in Korea.

Cho Younsoon Dean, College of Education, Ewha Womans University | Kang Jae-hoon, Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Koreana | Winter 2009

education, which enabled students to learn how to read and recite the classics, as well as to practice military pursuits, such as archery. As such, educational institutions had already been established and operated on a national level, in order to educate the talented individuals required to preserve its society.

For some 500 years during the Goryeo period, from 918 to 1392, political turmoil within and invasions from without prevented the state from operating government schools, so the education system was maintained and reinforced through the efforts of dedicated scholars and various kings who revered learning. National educational institutions during the Goryeo period included the National College (Gukjagam), “East and West Schools” (Dongseohakdang), five district schools (Obuhakdang), and public schools affiliated with Confucian shrines (hyanggyo ), along with private institutions such as the 12 private academies (Sibido) and local private schools (seodang ).

Of note, the local private schools can be regarded as the predecessors of today’s elementary schools, in that they offered young students the chance to learn. In the early 12th century, the Song Chinese envoy Xu Jing, in his Gaoli tujing (Illustrated Account of Goryeo ) noted: “The village streets are filled with libraries and schools, where young, unmarried people gather to

learn the classics from teachers, and when they have reached a certain age they go with their companions to study at temples and hermitages, while even those younger students learn from private school teachers.”

In traditional society, the only higher educational institutions were those that trained sons of yangban families to become future government officials, and it was not until the late Joseon period that local private schools came to be established by individuals or village residents for the education of commoners and local residents. As the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) and its centralized government promoted an ideology of NeoConfucianism, education during this time was centered on the Neo-Confucian ideal that an individual must first cultivate himself in order to be a proper ruler.

Government schools during the Joseon period included the National Confucian Academy (Seonggyungwan) and four public schools (sahak ) in the capital, as well as public schools attached to Confucian shrines in the provinces, while private institutions were comprised of private academies (seowon ) and local private schools. Of these, the local private schools offered elementary education, but they imposed no age limits on students, educating everyone from the age of five or six to adults.

The first modern-day elementary educational institution in Korea, Gyodong Elementary School, in 1918 and today.

The vast reed fields of Suncheon Ecological Park include walkways that enables visitors to fully enjoy the area’s natural splendor.

The vast reed fields of Suncheon Ecological Park include walkways that enables visitors to fully enjoy the area’s natural splendor.

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3 1 Local private schools (seodang) in rural areas played a vital role in educating the common people during the Joseon Dynasty period (1900s).

2 The library building of Gyodong Elementary School (1936).

3 A class at the rural Noil Branch School of Hwagye Elementary School, in Noil-ri, Bukbang-myeon, Hongcheon, Gangwon-do Province, which had a total of nine students and three teachers (2002).

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According to Mongminsimseo (Admonitions on Governing the People ), local private schools had become so widespread that there was “about one local private school per 45 villages.”

Local private schools played a key role in educating the common people during the Joseon Dynasty period. They provided instruction on writing texts, for the learning of basic characters, and educational texts to teach Confucian principles and personal relationships. Reading comprehension texts dealt with ethical behavior as well as subjects such as the natural environment and history. Local private schools at this time could be established and operated by anyone with an interest to do so. They were operated on a small scale without restrictions, and served a critical role in providing basic education for local residents. They thus offer food for thought for modern smallscale elementary education, in that the education was comprehensive and adapted to the abilities of the children, along with instruction being provided at the individual and small-group level, depending on the time of year.

Back then, it was a customary practice of these local private schools for the teacher to receive a gift whenever a student completed a textbook. Parents offered these gifts to celebrate their child’s educational development and to express appreciation for the teacher’s efforts. A typical gift would be rice cake with a stuffing of red beans or soybeans, symbolizing the parents’ desire for their child’s education to be fulfilling as well.

Evolution of Elementary Education Korea’s “enlightenment period” began when its doors were opened to pursue commerce with Japan, following the signing of the 1876 Treaty of Ganghwa, and continued through the annexation of Korea by Japan in 1910, during which time Korea also opened its doors to Western powers, such as the United States, Great Britain, Germany, Italy, Russia, and France. This led to the emergence of modern school systems, along with the introduction of a new education philosophy.

In conjunction with the Elementary School Act in 1895, official regulations for modern elementary education were a­dopted. However, an elementary school (the government-run Gyodong Elementary School affiliated with Hanseong Normal School) had opened its doors a year earlier. Since elementary schools at the time were administered by the Ministry of Education, it is likely that this school was founded in order to provide new-style education to the children of elite families.

Immediately following promulgation of the Elementary School Act, 4 elementary schools were opened in Seoul, and 37 elementary schools in the provinces. The number of elementary schools increased rapidly, and by 1908 some 796 schools had been founded by Christian missionaries and another 3,000 schools by private Korean citizens.

Elementary education during the “enlightenment period” moved away from the individualized instruction of the local private schools, marking a transformation toward expository

classes for larger groups, and students were graded according to a strict letter-grade system. Private Christian schools attempted modern teaching methods, such as creative activities and empirical initiatives, in which students were directly involved in experiments and dealt with real-life objects, as well as evaluation methods that assessed students on an individual basis and according to their personal ability, through the use of a pass-fail system, student rankings, and report cards.

In 1911, in accordance with the Proposal for Reforming Korean Education promulgated by the Japanese authorities, elementary education was reorganized into four-year schools.

At this time, the goal of elementary education policy was to educate Korean children to become Japanese colonial citizens.

When elementary education adopted four-year schools, children entered school at the age of eight, but in 1920 a six-year system was enacted, with children entering at age six. In actuality, however, more four-year than six-year elementary schools remained in operation.

During the Japanese colonial period (1910-1945), there were various types of private elementary educational institutions, including private schools, local private schools, night schools, and private training schools. These institutions opposed the educational policies of the Japanese government by instilling the Korean people with a patriotic spirit and teaching Hangeul, the Korean writing system, to combat illiteracy. During the Japanese colonial period, classroom sessions consisted primarily of teachers summarizing important information

and writing it on the chalkboard, while students took notes.

Etiquette and obedience were emphasized, along with corporal punishment being enforced in the case of student wrongdoing.

During the three years of U.S. Military Government rule, from the time of Korea’s liberation from colonial rule (August 15, 1945) until the formal establishment of the Republic of Korea (1948), the educational sector was reorganized as part of the efforts to build a democratic nation. The educational system was unified into its current structure (six years of elementary school, three years of middle school, three years of high school, and four years of university), while traditional education was replaced by an education system founded on democratic principles, and educational practices were adopted that centered on the individuality of students and activitybased instruction.

With the establishment of the Republic of Korea and adoption of the national constitution on July 17, 1948, Article 16 of the constitution provided for free and mandatory elementary education. The first elementary school curriculum was adopted on a nationwide basis in 1954. Thereafter, elementary education in Korea was carried out in accordance with this curriculum, which was revised over time to reflect the educational methods of various nations around the world, from a subjectoriented curriculum to a lifestyle-oriented curriculum, from a scholarship-centered curriculum to a human-centered curriculum, and from a comprehensive curriculum to an activitycentered curriculum tailored to student needs.

A morning session at Ueum Branch School of Gojeong Elementary School, on Ueum-do Island, in Gojeong-ri, Songsan-myeon, Hwaseong, Gyeonggi-do Province, which prior to its closure had a single student and teacher (1997).

Winter 2009 | Koreana 11

1 1 An elementary school in Yangpyeong, Gyeonggi-do Province that was closed down in 2000.

(Myeongdal Branch School, Seojong Elementary School, Seojong-myeon, Yangpyeong, Gyeonggi-do Province) 2 Field day at an elementary school adjacent to a largescale Seoul apartment complex. (Gwangnam Elementary School, Gwangjang-dong, Gwangjin-gu, Seoul)

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Local private schools played a key role in educating the common people during the Joseon Dynasty period. They provided instruction on writing texts, for the learning of basic characters, and educational texts to teach Confucian principles and personal relationships.

This experience offers food for thought for today’s small-scale elementary schools in which education can be adapted to the abilities of students.

In 1995, to celebrate Korea’s 50 years of independence, the term used to describe elementary schools, Gungminhakgyo, a designation of the Japanese colonial authorities, was changed to Chodeunghakgyo, in order to sweep away the vestiges of Japanese imperialism and restore Korea’s national spirit.

Modern Elementary Education During the “enlightenment period,” elementary education also served to introduce a new culture. Institutional education began with the Japanese colonial period, when colonial education sought to inculcate students with Japanese culture and policies, but when the state took charge of elementary education for the administration of mandatory education, autonomy was lost as the government sought to regulate the curriculum and classroom details.

After liberation from Japanese colonial rule in 1945, elementary education primarily sought to combat illiteracy and provide citizens with a solid cultural grounding, because of a growing need to educate an increasing number of children. As a result, Korea enjoyed one of the highest literacy rates in the world and gradually joined the ranks of advanced nations, in terms of public education.

However, Korea’s transformation into an industrial society and its rapid economic development led to urbanization and massive population displacement that resulted in a sudden aging of rural communities, along with a sharp decline of schoolage children. In addition, the low birthrate trend of Korean women and a passion for education among parents who sought to have their children attend modern urban schools have contributed to a further dwindling in the number of school-age children in rural areas, leading to ever-smaller enrollment levels at rural elementary schools.

With a steady decline in the birthrate and a subsequent decrease in the number of school-age children, along with mounting difficulty in operating schools in an efficient manner, in 1982, the government established operational standards and began to close down and consolidate small-scale rural schools.

In 2000, city and provincial boards of education took over this task and the number of consolidations diminished somewhat, but at a 2005 government hearing, the prime minister declared that the consolidation and closure of schools would again be

administered by the central government. Meanwhile, local residents and parents of students have argued that small schools provide unique educational experiences for students, along with forming local community groups to publicize the value of maintaining small-scale schools in rural areas.

In order to compete in the 21st century, it is necessary to develop highly talented and creative individuals. The low birthrate continues to be a serious problem in Korea, which has resulted in growing numbers of one-child or two-child families. As such, these children need an elementary school that not only provides cultural understanding but also strives to satisfy their particular needs and requirements, so that they can fully express their individuality. For this reason, alternative schools have recently become popular in Korea, in response to an increased interest among parents to enhance the personal development of children from smaller families.

When public education was first implemented in Korea, it was common to see a single teacher with a class of up to 70 students. Although the numbers differ according to region, urban elementary schools in present-day Korea maintain classes of about 30-40 students. But today’s elementary education must move beyond its basic objectives of overcoming illiteracy and providing cultural understanding, based on a respect for diversity and efforts to help children realize their full potential in line with their individual characteristics. For this, it is necessary to not only decrease the number of students per classroom, but also reduce the scale of schools.

Only by doing so will children come to accept school as a kind of special family, while school staff will be able to develop and implement unique programs in a family-like and openminded atmosphere. If we save the small-scale rural schools that are currently targeted for closure, and delegate curriculum development and school operations to the schools themselves, along with providing administrative, financial, and program support through city and provincial board of education, our schools will be better able to cultivate the talented individuals demanded by the 21st century. From this point of view, it is clear that we should heed the wisdom of local private schools, which have served as the foundation for the success story of Korea’s education.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 13

Rural Elementary Schools: A Model for More Innovative Education An increasing number of rural elementary schools, which had been faced with possible closure due to a drastic reduction in student enrollment, have found new life by attracting students from nearby cities through the development of innovative curricula and nature-friendly on-site education.

Im Youn-Kee Professor, Department of Education, College of Education, Kongju National University Kang Jae-hoon, Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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very time I visit rural areas, I am surprised by the fact that schools can be found here and there, invariably situated on outstanding sites. Some of these schools were founded on sites procured by the government, while others are on parcels that had been donated by local residents. Each school is infused with a passion for education of future-minded rural residents, who willingly make whatever sacrifice or effort is needed for their children’s education. Up through the 1960s, rural schools also served as languageeducation centers to overcome adult illiteracy. Indeed, the love for learning and education that is associated with the Korean people can be seen as clearly in rural communities as in urban areas.

Increase of School Closures Another surprising development is that many rural schools have already closed their doors or are being used for other purposes, while a majority of the remaining schools are experiencing a steady downward trend in student enrollment, bringing them closer to potential closure as well. To date, the problem with provincial schools has been approached in terms of the “education gap,” or a belief that rural schools fall behind urban schools in terms of student academic achievement and educational environment, but the problem has now become so serious that it must be addressed in terms of their very survival. In large part, the future of rural schools does not look bright.

The current situation is primarily the result of large-scale population displacement due to Korea’s rapid industrialization and urbanization. Rural areas include administrative districts known as eup (towns) and myeon (townships). According to the population data of these rural areas, the share of rural residents plummeted from 67.6 percent of Korea’s overall population in 1960, to a mere 18.5 percent in 2005. In particular, the share of residents in myeon districts decreased from 63 percent in 1960, to 10.2 percent in 2005. The rural population, which had once accounted for a twothirds share, fell to under 50 percent in a 30-year period, and then to under 20 percent in less than 50 years. The rural areas, for long at the forefront of Korean society, suddenly found themselves on the margins.

1 Field day at a typical rural elementary school (Okdong Elementary School, Okdong-ri, Gimsatgat-myeon, Yeongwol, Gangwon-do Province) 2 Violin instruction is among the variety of after-school activities offered to the 30 students of Haho Branch School of Ipo Elementary School, in Haho-ri, Geumsa-myeon, Yeoju, Gyeonggi-do Province.

2 © Jun Sukbyung

Winter 2009 | Koreana 15

Geosan Branch School, which once had only 34 students in 4 grade levels who attended classes as a group, has since become a thriving school with some 140 students in 7 grade levels, including a kindergarten. This revival was no accident or the result of some experiment; it reveals a new path for the advancement of Korean education.

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1~2 A n outdoor class at Namhansan Elementary School.

As word spread about the school’s unique curriculum, students from nearby areas have increasingly transferred here to benefit from its specialized educational programs.

© Hwang Young-dong

Still, there are factors that cannot be explained by the population relocation alone. There is an old Korean adage: “When a person is born, send them to Seoul (or a big city).”

In this saying lies the fundamental problem of rural schools today, which are facing neglect due to a natural reduction in enrollment numbers and the passion for education of parents who seek to have their children attend city schools, if they have the means to do so. Schools in outlying areas all over the world are experiencing this kind of a crisis situation for similar reasons, but Korea might well be suffering the most serious consequences, in terms of quantity and quality. In quantitative terms, rural schools are being emptied out, while in qualitative terms, students’ academic achievement is declining as well. The crisis of rural schools is also a decisive factor behind the accelerating deterioration of rural areas themselves.

Consolidation Measures The government has promoted a variety of policy measures for the administration of rural schools. In particular, the most noteworthy policy effort has been an extensive program initiated in 1982 that called for the consolidation and closure of designated small-scale schools, which had experienced a drastic reduction in student enrollment. From back in the 1950s, schools had been developed in even the most remote areas, but in many cases they could not maintain an adequate enrollment level.

From 1982 to 1998, a first phase of school consolidation and closure measures was implemented by the boards of education of the cities and provinces. Support from the central government was practically nonexistent, while a school would be subject to closure if its enrollment fell below a cutoff point of 180 students, which was further lowered to 100 students in 16 Koreana | Winter 2009

September 1993. A second phase of the consolidation efforts was undertaken in 1999, during Korea’s foreign-currency crisis. The central government actively promoted school consolidation, while offering large-scale financial assistance and designating a school for closure if its enrollment was less than 100 students. Since 2000, a third phase of this program has been implemented autonomously by the boards of education of the cities and provinces, based on a minimum level of 60 students.

Above all, the government’s efforts to consolidate and close small-scale schools were intended to support rural schools that maintained cost-effective enrollment levels, in order to guarantee the rights of rural students to a substantive education and to help optimize the costs of school operations. The need to consolidate certain rural schools, in light of a dramatic decline in the number of local students, has been inevitable, from the educational and economic perspectives. In terms of education, it is pointed out that rural schools with such small numbers of students are limited in their ability to attract teachers who can provide a variety of educational expertise. Moreover, the operation of a regular curriculum can prove difficult, and there is less opportunity for students to form learning groups, develop social skills, and engage in cooperative projects, thereby diminishing the overall educational experience. From an economic perspective, it is undeniable that schools with a small enrollment are less cost-effective, in terms of personnel costs and operational expenses.

Small-scale Schools The government’s consolidation/closure program for rural schools was part of its overall efforts to enhance educational opportunity and improve student access to schools, through expansion of the transportation network and bus services.

However, these efforts have led to various problems and public criticism. First and foremost, the central government has been criticized for its inconsistency in the promotion of the policy measures, leading to a loss of public confidence. The policy direction for the consolidation/closure of schools wavered back and forth, between active implementation and efforts to revive small schools, along with the government’s vacillation between taking steps to intervene and assuming a hands-off approach.

In addition, at times, the state has offered various incentives and on other occasions it has forced those seeking to implement program measures to rely on support from the city and provincial authorities.

On the other hand, the consolidation/closure program has helped to spur local initiatives to save small rural schools. Affected parents, teachers, and residents have joined forces under a “People for the Preservation of Small Schools” group, which is dedicated to the revival of small local schools. This group has also called upon the government to develop measures to foster the sustainable development of rural education, based on the following points. First, the consolidation/closure of small schools based on economic considerations alone is not a proper solution. Second, rural schools are not only educational centers but also cultural spaces for the local community. Third, the consolidation/closure of small schools will encourage ruralurban relocation, thus worsening the quality of life of rural areas. Fortunately, the movement to save small schools has led to several success stories, including the following two examples.

Case Study I Namhansan Elementary School is situated within the historical site of Namhansanseong Fortress, in Sanseong-ri, Jungbu-myeon, Gwangju, Gyeonggi-do Province. This school, which consists of a total of eight classrooms sheltered beneath two 400-year-old zelkova trees, was founded in 1901. Notwithstanding its 100-year tradition, when the number of students fell sharply, the school was in danger of being closed. In response to this crisis, the school principal, three teachers, parents of students, and local resident groups launched a movement to save the school. In particular, their efforts were focused on the development of a distinctive educational program that took full advantage of Namhansan Elementary School’s unique environment. And in fact, the school’s innovative curriculum managed to attract students from other areas, which led to its restoration as a viable educational institution.

Then, exactly how was it possible to realize this turnaround?

Above all, it was the newly developed curriculum that emphasized hands-on experiences related to the school’s natural environment. Every morning, the students begin with a communion with nature. Students read in the library, which features natural lighting, or join their teachers on walks through the wooded areas behind the school grounds. Here, a dense growth of mature pine trees creates a primeval atmosphere that helps to stimulate the sensibilities of students. These morning activities give the students a sense of calmness and make them more receptive to the daily lessons. This kind of morning stimulation

© Hwang Young-dong

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1 © Hwang Young-dong

and awareness of nature cannot be incorporated so easily into the curricula of urban schools. The wooded areas and mountains behind the school present an ideal setting for morning walking tours to observe and appreciate the wonders of nature.

The forest environment also serves as a natural backdrop for poetry writing and natural science lessons.

Meanwhile, the school’s garden area is used for hands-on farming activities, as well as practical experiences and science lessons, as part of the new curriculum. Also, after each class has been assigned a garden plot, the remaining space is distributed among parents and residents, so that families can experience the joys of farming. There is also a playground where students can enjoy recreation and develop social skills. By growing wild flowers and a variety of plants and vegetables, students benefit from hands-on learning about ecology and the natural environment.

This innovative curriculum has contributed to the educational development of the students, as well as their teachers and parents. The involvement of various participant groups in the educational process, which occurred within a community founded on mutual trust and their cooperative efforts, was indeed the most crucial factor behind the school’s revival and maintenance. In September 2001, the school launched a website (www.namhansan.es.kr), which enables the related parties to easily communicate with each other, along with providing a venue to discuss relevant issues and post school information.

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1 A cooking lesson at Namhansan Elementary School 2 A gayageum class at Bunwon Elementary School, in Bunwon-ri, Namjongmyeon, Gwangju, Gyeonggi-do Province.

Case Study II Geosan Elementary School opened as a provisional school on the site of a former rice mill in what is now Geosan-ri, Songak-myeon, Asan, Chungcheongnam-do Province. Due to the area’s loss of residents to urban cities, it was downgraded to Geosan Branch School, on March 1, 1992, and by 2002 its number of students had dropped to 34, and the school was subject to closure.

The school’s teachers and local parents turned this crisis into an opportunity for development by promoting its small scale as an advantage. Thanks to the close-knit nature of the local community, everyone was well aware of whatever happened there, which enabled the teachers and parents to develop flexible classroom lessons and creative educational activities that were carefully tailored to the educational and social development of the students.

In particular, efforts were focused on environmental education to take advantage of the natural characteristics of its rural setting, which added to the depth of reading and writing

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instruction. Through hands-on activities, students were able to observe natural and social phenomena for themselves, while internalizing various details. As word spread about this school’s unique curriculum and its emphasis on hands-on learning, which appealed to all five senses and also aroused the hearts and minds of students, parents of nearby urban areas began to inquire about the possibility of transferring their children to the rural school.

Geosan Branch School, which once included only 34 students in 4 grade levels who attended classes as a group, has since become a thriving school with some 140 students in 7 grade levels, including a kindergarten. This revival was no accident or the result of some experiment; it reveals a new path for the advancement of Korean education. Bolstered by the increase in student enrollment, the teachers, parents, influential local figures, alumni, resident groups, and university professors initiated a campaign to have the school upgraded from a branch school to a full school, and on March 1, 2005, Geosan Elementary School became the first school in Korea to regain its original status.

The school organizes an annual music festival with the participation of the local community. The stars of the festival are students who attend after-school singing lessons, and various invited performers. The audience comprises students, parents, and local residents. For the students with an interest in singing, this event is a source of pride and inspiration, along with being a gathering to reinforce a sense of community among local resi-

dents. In this way, Geosan Elementary School plays the role of an educational institution and community center as well.

Hope for Rural Schools These success stories prove the potential of small rural schools. They offer the possibility of restoring a fundamental goal of education based on the wondrous natural environment of rural schools, along with confirming that, while most parents would prefer for their children to attend competitive urban schools, there are also those parents who value rural schools for the hands-on learning experiences. These revival examples have formed a foundation for the sustained development of rural schools, which will bring back students who have left and also attract new students from nearby cities.

To further their sense of purpose, small schools have created a Small Schools Educational Union, which strives to publicize the educational innovation of small schools. Hopefully, this movement will help to spark the hopes and desires of many teachers and parents for the improvement of public school education. The government is also promoting new support measures that will allow rural schools in every corner of the country to repeat the early successes of saving small schools, which have resulted from the perseverance of a small number of dedicated educators. The rural schools that are returning to life are wonderful examples of the potential value of alternative education within the framework of public education. Thanks to such efforts, there seems to be some hope for small rural schools.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 19

Former Rural Schools Revived as Community Facilities Rural elementary schools, which have been closed down, are now being converted into a variety of community facilities thanks to systematic support from the government and the creative efforts of local residents.

Along with creating considerable economic and cultural value, the conversion of former schools has helped to breathe new life into rural communities.

Kim Dang Journalist, OhmyNews | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

20 Koreana | Winter 2009

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hese days, in early September, Yeongdong, in Chung­ cheongbuk-do Province, hosts a grape festival to promote the area’s wine-making efforts. Visitors arrive on a “wine theme” train run by Korail to enjoy a variety of hands-on activities, such as grape picking, grape stomping, and wine ma­king. This annual event attracts some 10,000 visitors to this area, where they can enjoy the grape festival and locally made wine. At the heart of this festival is the site of a former elementary school.

Former Rural School In 1996, a hotel owner, Yoon Byung-tae, and 76 grape farmers in Yeongdong, Chungcheongbuk-do Province established the Yeongdong Grape Association, as the first step in realizing their dream of using local grapes to make high-quality Korean wine. In 2001, when the association was prepared to build a wine-processing facility, it looked for a suitable site in Yeongdong. Above all, a convenient location was required that could be easily accessed by the area’s grape farmers. For this, Jugok-ri, in Yeongdong-eup, was a natural choice, since it was the first area to cultivate grapes and 76 out of the 100 or so village families there were involved with grape farming.

Moreover, Jugok-ri had the vacant buildings of the former Hwagok Elementary School, which had been overseen by the Yeongdong Board of Education. It was the second-largest of 30 former public schools in the area, with buildings that had been well-maintained and needed only minor repairs. In addition, a national expressway and railway line passed nearby, making it an ideal site in terms of transportation access and public exposure. The Board of Education was pleased to sell off the property, since it had been incurring maintenance expenses and the sale would result in a financial gain. Also, wine processing would be less harmful to the environment than most other types of manufacturing industries.

Thus, the former school site was transformed into Korea’s first large-scale winery facility for the making of domestic wine.

Smaller operations in the area were integrated into the winery, boosting its production twofold, while the association’s membership swelled to 460. Then, the local goverment authorities agreed to pitch in. In 2004, Yeongdong-gun extended 2.25 billion won (about $2.0 million) of financial assistance to the winery project and founded a corporate entity, Wine Korea, of which the association members became stockholders. This success story, involving the joint efforts of local farmers, the wineprocessing corporation, and local government authorities, was all made possible because of the former school site. The first thing to catch the eye of any visitor to the winery facility is the

building’s unique exterior, which resembles the chateau-style wineries of France. In fact, there are few remaining signs of the former school.

The former elementary school of Jugok-ri might have lost its children and the sounds of their laughter, but the conversion project has been a boon to the local community. In 2007, the village received the top award in the “Building Outstanding Villages to Live In” contest, sponsored by the Ministry of Government and Home Affairs. When the closed down school was brought back to life, this energized the local community as well. And so the villagers are now faced with a new concern, albeit a pleasant one—if Wine Korea continues to prosper and this attracts younger couples to Jugok-ri, will it be necessary to reopen Hwagok Elementary School?

Conversion of School Buildings Unfortunately, only a handful of rural villages are blessed with such a wonderful outcome. According to the Ministry of Education, Science, and Technology (MEST), there are 1,765 small-scale schools in farming, fishing, and mountain villages (towns, townships, and on islands) with an enrollment of 60 or less students, accounting for a 35.5 percent share of the total 4,972 schools in these areas. In order to foster “schools of an appropriate scale,” MEST has sought to move forward with the consolidation and closure of small-scale schools by increasing its financial incentives. For the closure of a regular school, 2.0 billion won (about $1.8 million) of assistance is available, while 1.0 billion won of support is extended in the case of a branch school. Through these measures, the government intends to consolidate and close down some 500 small-scale schools over the next three years, in an effort improve the overall quality of public education nationwide.

“The Current Status of the Use of Closed School Properties” report, compiled by MEST, for the period 2006 to July 31, 2008, indicates that 3,246 small-scale schools have been closed since 1982, throughout the country. The number of elementary schools still in operation amounted to 6,229 (5,813 regular schools and 416 branch schools) as of 2008, meaning that about one-third of the previously existing elementary schools had been closed down in the past 25 or so years. By region, the number of closed schools in Seoul and metropolitan cities are in the single digits, while a large majority of school closures involve the farming, fishing, and outlying villages of the five provinces of Jeollanam-do (683), Gyeongsangbuk-do (581), Gyeongsangnam-do (501), Gangwon-do (396), and Jeollabukdo (311), which account for 76 percent of the total.

The closed schools are now being used in a variety of ways,

The Cheongsong County Yasong Art Gallery, which is housed in a converted school building, exhibits an array of ancient maps. (Former Sinchon Elementary School, Sinchon-ri, Jinbo-myeon, Cheongsong, Gyeongsangbuk-do Province) Winter 2009 | Koreana 21

with many being reborn with a new face. According to the report, among the 3,246 closed schools, 1,924 (59.3 percent) have been either sold off, rented out, or demolished, while 856 (26.3 percent) are being used as facilities for educational, training, religious, community, commercial, and production purposes.

And 466 (14.4%) are currently idle. Until more recently, most former schools (1,625) were sold off to a variety of parties.

Then, in 2006, the government amended the “Special Law for the Promotion of the Use of Closed School Properties,” which allowed greater flexibility in the renting out of such properties. This resulted in an increase in rental transactions, due to the reduced financial investment, versus an outright acquisition. With MEST being well aware of the fact that these schools have long played a central role in the local community, even in the case of a property sale, various restrictions are imposed on the owner in order to limit the property’s uses to purposes which conform to the sentiments of local residents.

The city and provincial boards of education encourage the closed schools to be converted into facilities for such uses as educational, residential welfare, agricultural processing, cultural, and community purposes, along with prohibiting the use of school sites for commercial entertainment, country housing, facilities that offend public morals and local residents oppose, and inappropriate purposes that conflict with the interests of local residents, including industrial activities which generate high levels of pollution and speculative ventures. Examples of noteworthy conversion projects have included the successful development of cultural/artistic centers, community facilities, agricultural-processing enterprises, alternative education schools, and specialized training centers.

Haneullae Wild Flower Village In 2006, based on an MEST survey of converted school projects, Haneullae Wild Flower Village, in Yeonpyeong-ri, Cheoncheon-myeon, Jangsu, Jeollabuk-do Province, was cited 22 Koreana | Winter 2009

as an ideal example. This was once a remote mountain village of only 25 households, with most of the 30 residents being over the age of 60. But this all changed in 2003 when a group of city dwellers settled here after acquiring the former Yeonpyeong Elementary School, for 300 million won (about $270,000), which became the base of operations for an Internet enterprise that marketed environment-friendly agricultural products.

In pursuit of their dream to create an environment-friendly product site, which would serve to link together urban and rural areas, the founders searched high and low for a suitable site before discovering the former Yeonpyeong Elementary School in 2003. The school site is nestled within a mountainous area, with a clear-water stream running alongside, and although it is only 20 minutes from an expressway, the road in front of the school is only used by local traffic, making it a perfect location.

The school, which had been closed for three years, was brought back to life with renovation work that preserved the original buildings in an environment-friendly manner, amid a new landscape of flowers and trees. The reborn school energized the village as well. With distribution channels being established to market produce from growers who utilize environmentally sound farming methods, younger families began to move into the village, which had long been home to mainly senior citizens. Revived as Haneullae Wild Flower Village, the old school has taken on a new life that contributes to the harmony between people and nature, as well as an improved quality of life for the local village.

The founders joined hands with local residents to secure a stable supply of agricultural products, and also encouraged customers of the website’s products to visit and experience everyday life in a farming village, which has resulted in a thriving urban-rural exchange program that includes the participation of some 20,000 city dwellers per year. Thanks to these efforts, the village was designated a Green Farming Experience Village by the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry in 2005, and it was selected as the Best Farming Experience Village in 2006.

Whenever it became inevitable for an elementary school to be closed because of a lack of student enrollment, there has invariably been much interest in using the facilities for alternative purposes, due to the easily accessible location of its site and generally well-maintained buildings.

The Potato Flower Studio, a creative space for artists and a cultural venue for local residents, now occupies the former Nosan Branch School of Pyeongchang Elementary School, in Igok-ri, Pyeongchang-eup, Pyeongchang, Gangwon-do Province.

Utdari Cultural Village Pyeongtaek Cultural Center, an affiliate of the Pyeongtaek city government, which was authorized for free use of the Seotan Elementary Geumgak Branch School of the Pyeongtaek Bureau of Education, transformed the school into Utdari Cultural Village, a popular center that is home to a diverse range of cultural and artistic activities.

In 2005, after Pyeongtaek Cultural Center decided to rent the former Geumgak Branch School facilities, it conducted a town hall meeting to receive input from local residents, and then created a task force to design a development project, which eventually earned the top award of the Ministry of Culture and Tourism’s “Program for Creating Cultural Spaces for Residents of Culturally Neglected Areas.” The task force designated in-house cultural artists and opened the renovated facilities as the Utdari Cultural Village in 2006.

The school site has since been resurrected as a creative space for five in-house cultural artists, as well as local lecturers, who conduct some 40 day-long cultural programs, which include lessons on everyday pottery, woodworking, children’s song writing, and modern living. Indeed, this center has become a Pyeongtaek landmark that annually attracts about 25,000 visitors. Utdari Cultural Village offers various programs for residents with only limited exposure to culture, and for youth and family groups, as well as cultural enrichment events.

This is a space for people to enjoy culture and art through hands-on experiences. A noteworthy activity is the “Hope Guardian Poles” program, under which, in line with a regional tradition, older residents teach the younger generation to make traditional village guardian poles. As such, local senior citizens now have an outlet for their acquired cultural knowledge.

PotatoBlossom Studio Just outside the town of Pyeongchang, in Gangwon-do Province, you can find the Potato Flower Studio, located in Igok-ri, Pyeongchang-eup. A now modern-style building,

featuring a steel frame and opaque glass, is the former Nosan Branch School, which has been converted into a culture and arts education center that includes workspace for artists and a meeting place for village residents. In fact, it is not so apparent that this is the site of a former school.

Lee Sun-chul, a culture planner and university lecturer, played a key role in the transformation of this once typical mountain village school into a cultural space that is now known across the country. In 2000, after having worked in Seoul’s Daehak-ro area, Lee moved to Pyeongchang in the hope of finding a healthier environment. There, he came across a notice on the local education board’s website about its acceptance of project proposals for the Nosan Branch School.

Meanwhile, the Pyeonchang-gun Office agreed to support the redevelopment of the former school site. With funding assistance from the provincial government, the Pyeongchang-gun office acquired the property and then made it available to Lee Sun-chul, who opened PotatoBlossom Studio on the site in 2005.

The studio operates a unique “cultural work-exchange program,” under which singers or performers can rent practice space. Then, it organizes concert events so that the aspiring entertainers can perform for local audiences, which often have only limited opportunity to enjoy cultural performances.

Along with a library and museum for village residents, the studio offers a variety of art education programs for local schools presented by professional instructors.

Jejudo’s Innovative Projects The island of Jejudo is home to many novel galleries that would never be seen in a big city, from photo galleries to dyed clothing workshops. This island has long been known for having a lot of rocks, women, and wind, but now it is also famous for its galleries. Most of the galleries, where the mood is as exotic as the island’s scenery, are closed schools that have been remodeled and put to new uses.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 23

Aquatic plants, such as the floating fern Salvinia natans, giant duckweed (Spirodela polyrhiza), and frogbit (Hydrocharis dubia), are examples of the marshland ecology of the Upo Wetlands.

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1 The Kim Young Gap Gallery Dumoak, on Jejudo Island, is an exhibition hall within a renovated elementary school building. (Former Samdal Branch School, Samdal-ri, Seongsan-eup, Seogwipo) 2 The former Bunwon Elementary School, in Gwangju, Gyeonggi-do Province, which offers specialized instruction in the ceramic arts, was remodeled by teachers of the former school and reborn as Bunwon Royal Porcelain Museum, near the last-known royal kilns of the Joseon Dynasty. (Bunwon Elementary School, Bunwon-ri, Namjong-myeon, Gwangju, Gyeonggi-do Province)

A representative example is Kim Young Gap Gallery Dumoak, located on the site of the former Samdal Branch School, in Seongsan-eup, Seogwipo. The late Kim Young Gap, before succumbing to Lou Gehrig’s disease in 2005, was a distinguished photographer who dedicated his career to capturing images of the island’s magnificent scenery. In 2001, he renovated eight classrooms of the old school into a photography studio, which has become one of Jejudo Island’s most popular sites. In fact, based on a 2006 survey of 1,004 visitors to the island, conducted by the Jeju Provincial Assembly, this studio project was the top attraction, in terms of family-group satisfaction, out of 48 tourist destinations on Jejudo Island.

Other impressive projects are found in Seogwipo, where Gasi-ri Elementary School, in Pyoseon-myeon, has been redeveloped into the Love of Nature Gallery, which exhibits the four seasons and picturesque scenery of Jejudo, along with 24 Koreana | Winter 2009

the Mongsengee, that features the island’s natural fabricdying culture on the Myeongwol Elementary School site, in Myeongwol-ri, Hallim-eup, Jeju, and the Jeju Natural Ecological Culture Experience Village on the former Mureung Ele­ mentary School grounds, along Jeju Olle Road, in Mureung-ri, Daejeong-eup, Seogwipo.

Senior Citizen Housing There are also cases of schools, where children once played, now being transformed into housing accommodations for senior citizens. The Dongjak-gu elderly housing, in Taean, is the first example in which a provincial government acquired a closed rural school and then directly operated it as a public housing facility. In 2000, the Dongjak-gu District Office, in Seoul, planned to build a housing facility for the elderly within its jurisdiction, but problems arose in regard to finding a suitable site and funding the construction.

This led to an expanded search of rural areas, where the Dongjak-gu officials found Anjung Elementary Sinya Branch School, a closed school in Sinya-ri, Anmyeon-eup, Taean, Chungcheongnam-do Province, that remained vacant. The Dongjakgu office renovated the two-story school building, located within the seaside tourist destination of Anmyeon, where the coastline and adjacent forested area form a natural harmony, into condominium-style retirement housing that is free of charge for elderly tenants and persons with disabilities. This project has proven so popular that it has housed 50,000 guests from the time of its opening, in July 2001, through September 2009.

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Accordingly, the district offices of Seoul, which invariably struggle to secure suitable sites for community facilities for district residents due to high land prices, have come to focus on the closed school sites in rural areas. Along with drastically lower land and building costs, these initiatives serve to bolster exchange and cooperative relations between urban cities and farming communities. An official of the Dongjak-gu Office remarked: “Our citizens are not only going to Anmyeondo Island for relaxation, they are also helping the farming households by directly purchasing locally grown products. The elderly housing project helps the residents of Dongjak-gu as well as Sinya-ri. So, it’s a win-win situation.”

OhmySchool Launched in 2000, the Internet OhmyNews media might be better known outside of Korea than within. This all-new media, which has adopted a citizen-journalist model and motto of “Every citizen is a journalist,” has a staff of about 70 full-time employees, yet it competes with conventional media outlets that are up to tenfold larger in scale, and still manages to annually place among the top ten media, in terms of public influence.

In 2007, OhmyNews entered into a rental agreement for a school site on the island of Ganghwado, which had been closed down for the past ten years (Sinseong Elementary School, in Neopseong-ri, Bureun-myeon, Ganghwa-gun). After remodeling work, the facilities are now used for a continuing education program that provides training for full-time and citizen reporters. In addition to activities such as citizen-reporter lectures

and global citizen-reporter gatherings, there are also historical tours of the Ganghwa area and English-language camps for children. Of note, following the school’s closure in 1997, over the next 10 years it became an eyesore at the center of a village that was home to some 267 families. After its resurrection as OhmySchool, the Sinseong Elementary School sign remained because of its school-related activities for designated students.

Since 2008, OhmySchool has organized “Together We Go” admission and commencement events. At small-scale schools around the country, there are instances in which a student does not have any same-grade classmates. In response to this situation, these sessions are held for this kind of “only” student, in an effort to build solidarity among the students from farming, fishing, and mountain villages. And to offer encouragement, popular entertainers and TV personalities, such as the actress Han Hye-jin, attend the events and serve as one-on-one mentors.

Since the opening of OhmySchool in December 2007, OhmyNews has sought to generate public interest in schoolclosure projects by inviting the operators of converted school sites and prospective developers to a two-day forum, for the sharing of experiences and ideas for additional projects. Above all, former school sites offer inherent advantages, such as central location, convenient public access, and well-maintained facilities overall. The forum participants thus reached an unanimous conclusion: “Closed schools must live in order for the villages to live.”

Winter 2009 | Koreana 25

N

ot long ago, I received a letter from Hamburg, Germany.

The sender introduced himself as the son of the first principal of my rural elementary school. He wrote that he left Korea 30 years ago and had been living in Germany. He entered that elementary school at about the same time that I did. But he left the school in less than a year when his father was transferred to another school. He had read something of mine that had stirred up memories of a childhood long ago, and so he had written me this letter.

Images of My Childhood The first principal of my elementary school! I don’t even remember his name. For some 30 years, I attended elementary school, middle school, high school, university, and graduate school, and for another 30 years I have taught students at the same university. My resume is no more than the names of five or six schools, at various levels. Therein, the mundaneness of

my life can be seen, plain and clear. As a starting point, the first images that capture the fragrance of my childhood are from the rural elementary school of my hometown. It seems that I have traveled around the world in order to rediscover these first images. The poet Jeong Hyeonjong once wrote the following: “Ah, the country elementary school / panorama embraces me in its bosom. / In its bosom I am embraced, / and embraced and embraced. / (In all the world / There alone you are) / Oh, sacred peace / Oh, flower of time / Oh, dreaming echo / Oh, resolute purity / Oh, sacred gathering of the universe...�

A white, unpaved road, dry with dust, pierces a long, narrow field and disappears into a steep rugged mountain valley to the north. When the road reaches the mountaintop, it comes to the ancient temple of Buseoksa. Built in the seventh century, it was the end of the world and the end of time. That road does not lead anywhere else. Anyone who follows that road up can only follow it back down again.

Lifelong Memories of a Rural Elementary School After sending me out into the world, my elementary school took back its warm embrace, much like my late mother. Yet that elementary school, where the sound of organ music never ceased, will forever remain in my heart.

Kim Hwa-young Professor Emeritus, Korea University. Cultural Critic Kang Jae-hoon Photographer

26 Koreana | Winter 2009

If you come back down, about four kilometers from that “end of the world,” you will reach Buseok Market, and some four kilometers farther along is my hometown, a village named Dotan, which means “wave of peach blossoms.” Perhaps long, long ago, when delicate peach blossoms fell from the trees, they would be swept away by the surging rapids. Li Bai, a Chinese poet of old, wondered in his “Dialogue in the Mountains”: “Why do I live deep in the mountains / You ask of me / But I do not answer, only laugh / And my heart is light. / The peach blossoms fall on the water / And disappear to who knows where / So are the shadows of men an unseen / Other world.” I believe the name of my hometown, deep in a mountain valley, was derived from such a sentiment.

Strange New World Most of the people in the small village were my relatives of the Kim clan. With broad fields and paddies before and low

hills behind, there are clusters of 30 or so houses in each of the “upper village,” “lower village,” and the “village on the other side,” beyond the stream. In the middle of these three villages, which are, in truth, only typical villages with no peach blossoms in sight, is the neighborhood of Soran, where I was born.

It is a small hamlet of fewer than ten houses scattered on either side of a new cement road. Its name means “within the pines” for the surrounding pine forest. In the center of this hamlet, behind an old pavilion and a few persimmon trees, the dilapidated tile-roof house was our home. Around a bend in the mountain behind our house, nestled in a dense pine forest and standing alone atop a hill, is the other world of Sangseok Elementary School. I entered this school before I was seven years old. In a small mountain village at a time before there was a kindergarten, my parents figured it would be better for me to play at school than to play at home, so they sent me to school early.

Next to a large playground area surrounded by an Oriental

Memories of the time spent at rural elementary schools will always remain in the hearts of those who are now city dwellers. (Myeongdal Branch School, Seojong Elementary School, Seojongmyeon, Yangpyeong, Gyeonggi-do Province)

Winter 2009 | Koreana 27

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Sangseok Elementary School was officially a branch school of Buseok Elementary School, which stood near the marketplace. Yet that tiny school was such a strange and large world to me. Most of the students were “adults” who belatedly sought to be immersed in new-style education, with a few about the age of my aunts and uncles, unmarried people nearly 20 years of age.

arborvitae fence there was a small thatched-roof building, a well, and the principal’s house (a relic of the Japanese colonial period). Below the hilltop was a vegetable garden, and next to that, in a neat row, were two newly built, tile-roof classrooms and the teacher’s room. This was my new school in its entirety.

It was only a 300-meter distance around the mountain from my home, but to me the school was an amazing and strange world. There, I learned the mysteries of spelling and the magic of addition and subtraction.

Standing in that large playground, leaning against the trees at its edge, whose names I did not know then, I could look out at picturesque scenery, beyond the slope covered in blooming cosmos flowers to the broad fields and the white road that ran through them, and beyond that to the sparkling stream that threaded its way through the willows. At the end of the road stood a grand mountain, like a period to punctuate it. Beyond that was the “world” that we could not know. Just three years after Korea’s liberation from Japan, our school had only three teachers, including the principal, and fewer than 30 students.

Officially, it was a branch school of Buseok Elementary School, which stood near the marketplace. Yet that tiny school was such a strange and large world to me.

There were only a couple of children of my age from the upper village who entered the school along with me. Most of the students were “adults” who belatedly sought to be immersed in new-style education. Most of them were young 28 Koreana | Winter 2009

people in their teens, with a few the age of my aunts and uncles, unmarried people nearly 20 years of age. Thus, I was protected not only by the teachers but by my fellow students as well. They often held me and even carried me at times. So for me, school was, as the poet sang, a warm bosom of embrace, before it was a place of learning: “In its bosom I am embraced, and embraced and embraced.” Sixty years later, this is the impression that comes to my mind when I think of that school.

Elementary School Memories The biggest problem for me, after starting school, was not spelling or multiplication tables. Those were easier for me to learn than they were for the older students. The hardest things for me were finding my way to the bathroom, which was so much bigger and more frightening than the one at home, and then unfastening the strange suspenders to pull down my pants, as well as the military-style training we practiced during physical education class: “Left flank, march! Forward, march!

About, face!” At that tender age, distinguishing my left from my right was truly the most difficult task in the world. When I stood before the imposing obstacles, it was my teachers and “adult” classmates who lent me their warm bosoms and carried me on their backs that reeked of cigarette smoke.

What I loved the most at school was the organ, an instrument that I had never seen before, which sucked in air and made music with its black and white keys. A pretty teacher who

3 1~2 A morning session and class at a rural elementary school. (Jindong Branch School, Girin Elementary School, Jindong-ri, Girin-myeon, Inje, Gangwon-do Province) 3 Field day at a rural elementary school. (Saneum Branch School, Saneum-ri Danwol-myeon, Yangpyeong, Gyeonggi-do Province)

had attended a girl’s high school in Seoul entranced me with her strange Seoul accent. She would always play the organ and sing. Sometimes she looked at me and smiled silently as I stood nearby. When she did so, her delightful singing and laughter drifted out of the classroom window and followed the broad fields and white road into the distance. I made up my mind then that I would marry this pretty teacher when I was older.

Yet not long after, the war began, and the school closed down.

That teacher left. My class teacher also left, to serve as a soldier.

And we young children stood by the front gate and gave our departing teachers bouquets of the zinnias that grew along the school fence, along with a few apples, still not ripe.

During the war, together with my siblings and friends, we listened to the distant thunder of artillery while wandering about the fields and catching fish in the stream. And when we were tired of that we gathered at the empty school. We climbed into the ventilation shafts under the roof and snared birds or crawled through the space beneath the floor. We went on treasure hunts to pick up the stubby pencils or bits of eraser that students had dropped through knotholes in the wooden floor of the classrooms. And we lost ourselves in games of hide and seek among the cosmos flowers on the hillside next to the playground.

Then peace returned and the elementary school opened again. Among my memories from the six years I spent there, I cannot leave out the student exhibitions and the autumn field

days, when we ran around with red and white headbands. Or the smell of new paper of textbooks and the fresh notebooks we received every year, and the beautiful pictures in our summer reading books. And then there were the ration boxes dropped sometimes by U.S. planes that circled in the skies above, boxes filled with toys I had never seen before, powdered milk and coffee, and pencils that smelled of juniper.

One day, I left that bosom and went out into the “world” to enter a middle school in Seoul. And I drifted around from city schools to schools abroad. Now, even when I visit my hometown during the Lunar New Year or Harvest Moon holidays, rarely do I round the mountain to see my old school.

When they began to say that our nation had become developed and grown strong, people steadily left the farming villages behind. The school, which at one time had more than 200 students, gradually lost students until it finally closed its doors one day. Now, the grass has overgrown the playground and the empty schoolhouse lies in a state of disrepair. Even the chain across the front gate is rusted.

A few days ago, I received a letter that announced a reunion of our alumni association being held at the school. But I will not be attending the reunion gathering. After sending me out into the world, my elementary school took back its warm embrace, much like my late mother. Yet that elementary school, where the sound of organ music never ceased, will forever remain in my heart.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 29

FOCUS

Far-reaching Impact of 2009 International Astronautical Congress The 60th International Astronautical Congress (IAC) was held in Daejeon, under the theme of “Space for Sustainable Peace and Progress.” With 2009 marking the 40th anniversary of man’s first landing on the moon, this international event did much to publicize Korea’s recent strides to move forward with its own space program.

Kim Seung-jo President, Korean Society for Aeronautical and Space Sciences

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30 Koreana | Winter 2009

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n July 20, 1969, the world watched the amazing spectacle of a man walking on the moon for the first time in history. This monumental achievement came eight years after U.S. President John F. Kennedy had proclaimed in 1961 that the U.S. space program would land a man on the moon before the end of the 1960s. The five-hundred million TV viewers around the world who witnessed this historic event marveled at the advanced state of America’s science and technology programs, while countless youth, captivated by the intrigue of space exploration, began to dream about space-related pursuits. Back then, the fact that this event could be televised live worldwide, via satellite, was a notable feat as well, enabling TV viewers around the globe to watch the moon landing as it unfolded, along with realizing the vast potential of aeronautical technology.

Space Science Unlocks the Past As part of the 60th International Astronautical Congress (IAC) 2009, which was held in Daejeon, Korea, a fascinating case study confirmed the significant value and benefits of space technology. Dr. Fujio Nakano, a documentary filmmaker and engineer from Japan, presented an insightful lecture, entitled “Identification of Migration Path from Korea to Japan—A New Discovery Utilizing Earth Observation Data from Space.” Held in the afternoon of the closing day, the lecture explained how the route of Korean migration to Japan, dating back some 1,400 years, could be identified by matching information from migrant settlements distributed throughout various regions of Japan, based on threedimensional data derived from an earth-observation satellite.

Due to their unfortunate historical relations, from time to time Korea and Japan continue to clash on diplomatic and cultural matters; however, Dr. Nakano’s presentation outlined scientific evidence that explained how in ancient times Korean clans had migrated to Japan and settled among the people there.

That this kind of scientific research, which hopefully might ease unnecessary conflict between the two countries, can be achieved through the application of space science is a notable breakthrough and source of inspiration for me and my personal involvement with aeronautical research. Indeed, this was a real-

1 A session of this year’s IAC during which the heads of aerospace organizations discussed ways to promote international cooperation in space exploration efforts.

2 An exhibition booth of an aerospace enterprise at the Technical Exhibition

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This year’s IAC event included a variety of activities to attract the general public as well, such as the Space Festival and Technical Exhibition, which featured some 50 programs in four basic categories: Space Citizen’s Plaza, Alien Town/Starlight Town/Robot Town, Space Center, and Space City.

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1, 3 Displays of photographs and equipment used by Yi So-yeon, Korea’s first astronaut, who orbited the earth in 2008, aboard the Russian spacecraft Soyuz TMA-12 2 The exhibition booth of China National Space Administration (CNSA)

ry of space science. In addition to being the 40th anniversary since the Apollo spacecraft landed on the moon, thereby fulfilling what humans had long dreamed of, it also marked 60 years since the inauguration of the IAC, a forum for international exchange and discussion of the promotion of space technology, space laws, and peaceful space applications, as well as the U.N.-designated International Year of Astronomy. Moreover, earlier this year, Korea celebrated the launch of its first domestic rocket, the Naro-1 satellite.

For this event-filled year, Korea was selected to host the 60th IAC, which since 1950 had often been held in leading countries of space technology, such as the United States and Russia. In spite of concerns that the N1H1 flu threat and the global economic crisis would dampen participation in the event, this year’s gathering was the biggest ever, attracting over 3,000 specialists from 60 countries, demonstrating a truly astounding interest in space among the international community. Korea’s President Lee Myung-bak attended the opening ceremony, expressing his keen interest in space development and pledging to actively promote international cooperation in this regard.

Assessment of 2009 Congress life manifestation of the 2009 IAC’s conference theme: “Space for Sustainable Peace and Progress.”

Memorable Anniversary In the same way that a child gradually extends the confines from around his home over time, humankind’s fascination with outer space has something to do with a natural curiosity about the universe. In modern times, this has led to a kind of race to space, with a growing number of countries actively pursuing their own space development program. In fact, the status of a country’s space program is often seen as an indicator of its global competiveness. Meanwhile, the space industry has emerged as a potent growth engine for the global economy, reaching an estimated value of $260 billion, according to a 2009 report of the U.S. Space Foundation. As such, the burgeoning space industry, in terms of its impressive economic benefits and scientific achievements, is well positioned to enjoy continued growth in the foreseeable future.

The year 2009 is particularly meaningful in regard to the histo-

This year’s IAC was attended by specialists from spaceindustry organizations around the world, including the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) of the United States, European Space Agency (ESA), Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA), and Europe-based groups, such as European Aeronautic Defense and Space Company (EADS), Arian Space, and Thales-Alenia. The IAC proceedings were centered on three major events: an academic conference, exhibition, and festival. Before the opening, a UN/IAF Workshop was held, organized by the U.N. Office for Outer Space Affairs (OOSA) and hosted by Korea and the International Astronautical Federation (IAF), as well as the IAA Academy.

For the academic conference, a core focus of the IAC, 25 technical committees evaluated and selected 1,600 papers for 159 sessions, during which about 70 percent of the papers were presented. Despite a considerable no-show rate among paper presenters, the conference did provide a forum to present the latest information on space technology in regard to such areas as space exploration, earth observation, and space communication.

The numerous presentations and lectures served as a valuable Winter 2009 | Koreana 33

1 The International Astronautical Congress 2009 was hosted by Daejon, Korea 2 Visitors try their hand at the space-training drills of astronauts 3 A special NASA exhibition to commemorate the 40th anniversary of man’s first moon landing 4 NASA Administrator Charles Bolden participated as a panelist during a discussion session

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opportunity for scientists from Korea, which has only a relatively brief history of space development, to enhance their expertise and broaden their horizons.

With the attendance of senior-level officials of such noteworthy organizations as NASA, ESA, JAXA, and China National Space Administration (CNSA), the lectures and technical sessions provided extensive information about the recent developments and future directions of the world’s space programs. The conference also served an ideal opportunity for the next-generation specialists of the aerospace sector to engage in network building, during events such as the Student Program, for the training of future space-related professionals; Young Professional Program, a corporate sponsorship program to nurture human resources for the space industry; and the annual Space Generation Congress. I could see for myself how these activities served as a rich source 34 Koreana | Winter 2009

of inspiration for students and younger industry personnel to further pursue their dreams of contributing to space development.

This year’s IAC also included an impressive 2009 Daejeon Space Exhibition, which featured NASA exploration spacecraft and equipment, and a NASA publicity booth. Exhibits included scalemodel replicas of the Apollo Lunar Excursion Module LEM (1/20), Saturn V rocket (1/48), and Apollo Lunar Rover (1/10), along with 16 space exploration-related items, such as lunar rocks and various equipment. The exhibition provided a rare opportunity for visitors in Korea to look over displays of NASA spacecraft and equipment that are not often shown outside the United States. The exhibition area was teeming with visitors who were eager to personally observe the out-of-the-ordinary items. Unfortunately, the participation of world-leading aerospace enterprises was noticeably lower than expected, which probably could be attributed to the global economic downturn. As such, the virtual absence of space-related U.S. firms seemed to dampen the atmosphere.

Charles Bolden, current NASA Administrator, who participated in the Congress as a panelist of a technical session, shared his thoughts about the future direction for space development with his global counterparts. In addition, he met with senior-level officials of Korea’s Ministry of Education, Science, and Technology to discuss possible Korea-NASA cooperation. Consequently, collaborative initiatives, such as joint development of a miniature satellite program and international space exploration efforts are expected to gain momentum. A notable event included the proclamation of a Daejeon Declaration, under which all signatory parties promised to use space development for peaceful purposes only.

In a special lecture, NASA astronaut Janet Kavandi encouraged students in Korea to pursue their dreams of space, along with taking part in various events with prominent space figures and extending her congratulations to the event organizers for a successful hosting of the 2009 IAC in Daejeon.

Noteworthy Events This year’s IAC gathering was distinctive in that it was not organized as an event exclusively for industry specialists. As such, the general public was invited to participate in events such as the Space Festival and the Technical Exhibition, which contributed to a festive atmosphere. The Space Festival, comprising

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50 programs under 4 categories—Space Citizen’s Plaza, Alien Town/Starlight Town/Robot Town, Space Center, and Space City— was especially popular among visitors. The hands-on programs, usually inaccessible to regular people, attracted special attention, particularly the METI and SETI events. As for the METI program, based on a cooperative arrangement between Korea and an observatory in the Ukraine, participants could transmit their own messages to planets in the universe, where alien life forms might exist, or to designated stars that symbolized the city of Daejeon. In the SETI program, participants explored the possibility of communicating with alien beings by searching for signals in outer space, with the use of a radio telescope.

A highlight of the festival included the model of an over-sized astronaut, measuring about 70 meters in length and the largest of its kind in the world, which served as an educational venue.

Within the astronaut, visitors were able to experience the training programs developed for Korea’s first astronaut, Dr. Yi So-yeon, or to take a virtual trip in space on a light-speed spacecraft with an eight-member crew. Children went home with a new vision and dream about the real possibility of space exploration one day.

Related events included test flights on a C-130 aircraft, courtesy of the Korean Air Force, a Daejeon Hot Air Balloon Festival, screenings of science-fiction movies, and a science-theme art competition for children, all of which helped to present space science in a more real-life form, rather than some far off and

fantastic concept. This effort to broaden the scope of the IAC, by including the general public’s participation and organizing events that appealed to both specialists and ordinary people, was the distinguishing characteristic of this year’s IAC gathering in Daejeon.

The 2009 IAC, the largest ever, served to attract the attention and stimulate the interest of Koreans in regard to space technology, space exploration, and space development. By providing such an ideal opportunity for Koreans to exchange information on space technology and exploration with global space experts, the event also served as a stepping stone for Korea to expand its cooperation with advanced aerospace countries. Although the large number of visitors to the festival and exhibition events was a positive outcome, there were also concerns that these activities might undermine the focus of the academic conference.

In addition, taking into account the fact that space development all over the world is being undertaken with taxpayer funds, there are those who wondered whether meetings among highranking politicians or gatherings of a political nature might tend to marginalize the space scientists and technicians, the core participants of the Congress. If these points can be properly addressed, a workable compromise could be implemented at future events.

In any case, with the momentum created by the 2009 IAC, it is now time for Korea’s nascent space program to stride forward, through international cooperation, and contribute to “sustainable peace and progress.”

Winter 2009 | Koreana 35

INTERVIEW

Media Artist Jung Yeondoo Seeks to Bring Dreams to Life 1

Media artist Jung Yeondoo strives to bring dreams to life. For his works, which include photography, video, sculpture, and performance, he finds inspiration in the deep-rooted dreams of people of various nationalities and cultural backgrounds.

Kang Seungwan Senior Curator, National Museum of Contemporary Art, Korea

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ung Yeondoo (b. 1969) willingly engages himself in the dreams of people. He does not think of people as being isolated individuals like remote islands. If heroic effort is necessary for his involvement, Jung is willing to perform it, and if his artwork can help someone to realize their dream, this might provide inspiration for viewers as well. For anyone who views his works, by waking up from their daily routines and pursuing their lifelong dreams, they can be revived.

Patricia Ellis, a curator and artist noted: “For Jung Yeondoo, to become a superhero means more than a dream, it’s the very source of his work.” Thus, interaction with subjects and viewers is a fundamental aspect of his work, in terms of the artistic process and outcome. This interaction can sometimes become a miraculous path along which dreams can really come true. Any such 36 Koreana | Winter 2009

miracle, however, can be attributed to the cooperative efforts of the creative artist, the individual subject and lead character of his work, and interactive viewers.

Listening to Others Jung Yeondoo graduated from the College of Fine Arts of Seoul National University in 1994, and then received a Masters degree from Goldsmiths, University of London in 1997. Since returning to Korea in 1999, he has become known through the showing of his works at various domestic and international art exhibitions, including the Gwangju Biennale, Taipei Biennale, Istanbul Biennale, and Venice Biennale. Throughout his career, from its outset until today, he has focused on the dreams of people of different nationalities and cultural backgrounds, who reside

2 1 Jung Yeondoo explains: “My work has expanded from sculpture to photography, video, stage, and film, due to my desire to find a solution not for ‘how’ to express, but for ‘what’ to express.”

2 In Jung’s recent work Cine Magician, the video shows the performance of a well-known Korean magician, Lee Eun-gyeol, while staff members behind the stage busily work on the lighting and filming.

in urban areas around the world, such as Seoul, Fukuoka, Shanghai, and Liverpool.

Jung’s early works in Korea reveal his distinctive approach of bringing the average people of his time into his works. This is evident in Elvis Gungjungbanjum (1999), a performance work that involves audience participation, and Boramae Dance Hall (2001), which shows photos, applied like wallpaper to a wall surface, of middle-aged men and women in formal dress at a ballroom dance at Boramae Park.

For Evergreen Tower (2001), there are group photos of 32 families, which have been taken in the living rooms of identical apartment units in Seoul, in the form of photo and slide images.

For this project, it was necessary for Jung to enter the intimate realm of the family subjects. In this way, his relationship to the

individual subjects of his works is not about an “I-it” hierarchy, but rather an “I-Thou” collaboration, as articulated by Martin Buber.

As active participants of the artistic process, the individuals are subjects, as well as narrators and contributors.

As Patricia Ellis explained, Jung Yeondoo has the ability to sublimate “voyeurism” into a “sharing experience.” For this work, before taking photos, he meets with each family to listen to details about their lives and dreams. Following this conversation, the photo session takes place. Even though the families all live in an apartment complex with identical units, distinctive characteristics of each individual family are revealed through such details as the arrangement of furniture, curtain color and patterns, family photos, wall hangings, and expressions of the family members, which provide a glimpse into how they go about their everyday life.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 37

1 1 In Jung’s photographic series Bewitched, he becomes a witch to reveal the reality and fantasy of people’s dreams.

2 Handmade Memories uses a series of images on two monitors to depict Jung’s interpretation of an old man’s grumbling about his difficult past.

3 Documentary Nostalgia has been part of the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, New York, since 2008.

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Location, a series of landscape scenes that juxtapose reality with unreality

From Dream to Reality Is it dream or reality that spurs us forward? Hero (1998) depicts a young man on a motor scooter making a delivery of Chinese food, but in the stance of a motorbike racer. At least for that moment, he seems freed from the burden of his harsh reality, as the breadwinner responsible for his younger siblings. Meanwhile, Bewitched (2001), with its title being borrowed from the popular U.S. sitcom of the 1960s, reveals the lives and dreams of 40 young people, whom the artist had met in Seoul, Tokyo, Beijing, Istanbul, Amsterdam, and other cities around the world. A young gas station attendant who dreams about becoming a racecar driver, a young woman who hopes to eventually go to heaven and see her mother, a young man delivering tea who seeks to become a math teacher— these individuals are shown in the present and in the future through successive, overlapping slide images, from today until their dreams come true. The present and the future overlap each other, blurring the boundary between our reality and dreams.

How does the world look to children, whose understanding of the real world and fantasy might not be clearly delineated? Wonderland (2004) features the drawings of kindergarten children. In the worlds that exist in the hearts and minds of children, there is a boy seeing a whale turn into a flower, Princess Aurora standing beside a pink bed decorated with flowers, as in Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella dancing with a prince, a girl standing beside a large flower, and a girl flying in the sky, filled with shooting stars. The artist reconstructed the dream world of children with a surreal

arrangement of objects and space, along with setting up a stage and having teenagers wear costumes in our three-dimensional world, while taking photos that are shown alongside the children’s drawings. The photos reconstructing the dream worlds were then given to the children as gifts.

From Reality to Fantasy In Location (2007), a series of landscape scenes, he uses natural scenery combined with artificial elements, such as props or lighting effects, to create an unnatural image. Examples of juxtaposed scenes include a cloth laid out on the floor to produce a constructed setting, an artificial rock in the foreground with a real rock in the distant background, a palm tree with a curtain on a sandy beach, a painting of a tree in the foreground of roadside trees along an apartment area, and Styrofoam snow flakes falling inside a restaurant located on a snowy highway in the nighttime.

These scenes, which combine reality with unreality, are like the background of our dreams that cannot be clearly remembered after we awaken. Or a fragment of time lost in the past, or an environment that you imagine and would like to be within.

Jung Yeondoo was selected as 2007 Artist of the Year by the National Museum of Contemporary Art, Korea. Documentary Nostaliga is a film work that Jung produced for an exhibition at the museum. This work, which generated much attention because of its new experimentation with the film media, along with a narrative structure and spectacle context, was then invited by the Museum of Modern Art in New York, in 2008, to be shown at its Video GalWinter 2009 | Koreana 39

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The relationship of an artist to the individual subjects of his works is not about an “I-it” hierarchy but rather an “I-Thou” collaboration, as articulated by Martin Buber. As active participants of the artistic process, the individuals are subjects, as well as narrators and contributors.

lery. After this showing, the work was purchased by the MoMA (The Museum of Modern Art).

Documentary Nostaliga seeks to capture images of onceexisting scenery. With the exhibition hall being divided into six sets (room, city street, pasture, field, forest, and clouded sea) Jung showed images from an 85-minute exposure of a fixed camera, adjusted only for lighting and focus. This work speaks well for Jung’s artistic innovation. It is rooted in his reminiscence of a pristine forest that he came across while hiking along Baekdusan Mountain Range during his university days, a scene since lost due to commercial development. A film project

40 Koreana | Winter 2009

about the reminiscences of other people is also in the works.

Handmade Memories (2009) is a video that depicts the memories recounted by six elderly people whom he met at Tapgol Park in Seoul, a gathering place for senior citizens, and at a community center for the elderly. For these elderly individuals, the dreamlike, broken fragments of the past constitute a driving force of their lives, much as the future does for younger people.

Memories are random thoughts of a time past and lost that once existed. However, is the time that has passed by always like a dream? We know that certain memories can at times be like a vivid reality, while sometimes reality can seem more like a

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dream, as is the case with the artist’s grandmother who suffers from dementia.

Reality Meets Fantasy In Bewitched and Wonderland, Jung assumes a role of magician. However, making dreams come true is not as simple as performing a magic trick. Fantasy can become reality only after a substantial investment of time and effort, similar to what is required to realize your dreams. The young delivery man portrayed in Bewitched, who Jung met in Istanbul in 2003, shared his dream of becoming a math teacher. Through Jung’s artwork, this dream became known to viewers, and later someone provided assistance for this person’s education so that his dream could be pursued, which subsequently did come true. Jung’s works embody the fantasy and dreams of people from around the world, along with providing inspiration to countless viewers to follow their

own dreams. All of this is the result of his delving into the dream of an otherwise ordinary young man.

In his recent Cine Magician (2009) work, Jung filmed Korea’s popular young magician, Lee Eun-gyeol, during his 120-minute performance on stage. It was shown on a screen while his staff carried props around the stage and adjusted the lighting. This is meant to reflect a process, rather than an outcome, during which viewers can observe “visible things” (reality) and “unseen things” (unreality). As for this work, Jung notes: “Theater is intriguing because it can express the metaphysical with a sense of realism.”

In his works that focus on the dreams of people, reality becomes a stage for the imagination, where reality and fantasy can coexist, side by side. In this way, reality is not necessarily a graveyard for dreams, but a performance stage where dreams can be called forth and realized. As for Jung Yeondoo, an evangelist of dreams, what might be his own dreams?

1 In Wonderland, a series of imaginative pictures created by kindergarten children are reproduced with photographic images.

2 Boramae Dance Hall includes photographs, attached like wallpaper onto a wall, of formally dressed middle-aged men and women dancing in a ballroom. At the exhibition hall, a dance event was staged with live music.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 41

ARTISAN

Shoemaker

Hwang Hae-bong Handcrafts ‘Shoes of the Wind’

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he hanbok , Korea’s traditional dress, is sometimes referred to as a “Dress of the Wind.” And indeed, its flowing lines and graceful curves are reminiscent of a gentle breeze. Similarly, Korea’s traditional leather shoes, hwa (boots) and hye (low-rise shoes), can be called “Shoes of the Wind.” As for hye, the natural curve from the instep toward the heel is similar to the stylish curvature of the lower sleeve hem of the jeogori , a traditional Korean-style jacket. And its pointed tips have the same charm as the cutely shaped Korean socks (boseon).

Nowadays, however, these elegant leather shoes have become virtually obsolete, with the shoemaker Hwang Hae-bong being the only person with the knowledge and experience to still produce them. The last remaining artisan of this arcane craft, Hwang is the grandson of the late Hwang Han-gap, the first traditional shoemaker to be designated an Important Intangible Cultural Property. The grandson not only took over the family business, he has also helped to revive various forms of traditional footwear that can otherwise only be seen in the display cases of museums.

When you go away at last, sickened with the sight of me, 42 Koreana | Winter 2009

know that I shall let you go, saying nothing, make no fuss; but climbing high on Yongpyon’s hills, there I’ll pick azalea flowers, armfuls of purple, just to spread along the pathways as you go.

Then go, with muffled parting steps trampling down those flowers you find strewn before your departing feet; and when you go away at last, sickened with the sight of me, know that for the life of me I’ll not shed tears then, no, not one.

“Azaleas” by Kim Sowol (Translation by An Sonjae)

In the “Azaleas” poem, by Kim Sowol, one of Korea’s most beloved poets, you can well imagine an elegant pair of dang­ hye shoes, adorned with vine-pattern scrolls, on the feet of the man as he departs from his lover, while trampling the azalea flowers strewn about. When this poem was published in 1922, most Koreans wore traditional shoes, although certain people started to wear cheaper rubber footwear, after a rubber factory began operation in Pyeongyang in 1919.

The shoes treading on delicate azalea petals could only be a pair of slender well-crafted hye, which resembles small canoes. As you walk in these shoes, they look light and smooth, like canoes gliding

across the water. In a stylish pair of hye, your step is light and fluid.

Grandfather’s Footsteps During the Joseon Dynasty (13921910), the shoemaking craft included makers who specialized in hwa (boot-style shoes) and in hye (flat low-rise shoes).

The background of these two shoe styles is rooted in prehistoric times, when the horse-riding people of the northern areas of the Korean Peninsula would typically wear boots, whereas the agricultural villagers of the south wore more basic footwear, made of leather or straw. Over time, shoe styles evolved into social and fashion symbols, which reflected the wearer’s standing in society. A reference from the ancient Goguryeo Kingdom (37 B.C.- A.D. 668) mentions hwa, decorated with silk and gold, indicating that the shoes were carefully made and highly valued. In the Goryeo Dynasty (918-1392), an era known for the refinement of its arts and culture, skilled artisans were routinely retained by the government. During the Joseon Dynasty, the government agency that managed national artisans maintained a workforce that included 16 hwa and 14 hye craftsmen.

The late Hwang Han-gap made tra-

1 Traditional shoemaker Hwang Hae-bong has painstakingly re-created jeokseok (“red shoes”) and cheongseok (“blue shoes”), the ceremonial 1

footwear of Joseon’s kings and queens.

2 Hwang has dedicated his life to reproducing various styles of traditional shoes that have been on the verge of being forever forgotten.

A maker of traditional Korean shoes, Hwang Hae-bong learned the craft from his grandfather, a court-appointed shoemaker of the late Joseon Dynasty. Thanks to his passionate dedication to traditional shoemaking, Hwang has created a variety of Korean shoes that could only be found in museums or the depictions of ancient literature.

Park Hyun Sook Freelance Writer | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Winter 2009 | Koreana 43

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ditional footwear for Emperor Gojong (r.

1863-1907), and members of the Joseon Dynasty’s final royal family. In modernday Korea, he became the first traditional shoemaker to be designated an Important Intangible Cultural Property in 1971.

Unlike his grandfather, who specialized in the making of hwa shoes, Hwang Haebong (58) makes hwa as well as hye. Ever since being designated an Important Intangible Cultural Property (No. 116) in 2004, Hwang has been Korea’s sole maker of traditional shoes. His deceased father, Hwang Deung-yong, had been learning the craft from his own father, but passed away sometime ago.

“With nobody else doing this kind of work, I always feel lonely. But I think loneliness is an artisan’s best friend. An artisan is never satisfied with his own work. And he takes little joy in being praised. Instead, he is often dismayed to find even the smallest blemish in his work. Moreover, this is not a job that earns you a lot of money. I heard that the last boom days were when my grandfather was a young man. After the collapse of the status system, demand surged for danghye, the woman’s leather shoes with scroll decoration, and unhye, the woman’s leather shoes with a cloud motif, as many commoners jumped at the chance to wear these shoes, which had long been the exclusive domain of the nobility.

“But this boom was short lived. Before long, the market was flooded with massproduced rubber shoes as well as Western-style shoes, which quickly entered Korea when it opened its doors to the West. Most shoemakers had to look for another line of work.

Five generations of my family, from my great-great-grandfather to his two sons, my grandfather, my father and me, have made traditional shoes for a living. In my time, however, nobody saw this as a promising job, so I thought the tradition would soon die out if I also turned my back on it. It was in this desperate state when I started to learn the craft, in earnest, from my grandfather. I was 16 years old.”

After some 42 years of crafting shoes, Hwang Hae-bong feels like he can now understand why his grandfather persevered, even when other artisans gave up.

His grandfather continued to work after retiring from his daily routine, helping to advise his grandson until he was over 90. His grandfather used to take a limited number of orders, for danghye and taesahye (men’s low-rise leather shoes), because he could not afford to keep his workshop stocked with a wide array of materials. As for Hwang, he thrives on the creation of rare items, such as those only seen in museums or described in ancient literature.

“I have made jeokseok and cheong-

seok , of which only three pairs remain. These are the shoes that kings and queens of the Joseon Dynasty wore for royal ceremonies. The jeokseok, or “red shoes,” were for the king, while the cheongseok, or “blue shoes,” were for the queen, with the colors being based on yin-yang principles.

I went to Sejong Museum and the National Palace Museum to study the queen’s blue shoes, which are made of leather and covered with dark-blue satin silk and lined with white cotton, with a tassel at the toe tip and an ankle strap. The king’s shoes are similar except for their red color. The only remaining pair is displayed at Elcanto Museum. My re-creations of these two shoes were awarded the Presidential Prize at the Traditional Crafts Competition in 1999.” His passionate dedication to

1 Women’s leather shoes (kkotsin), or “flower shoes,” adorned with decorative patterns

2 After the sole and shoe body have been stitched 2

together, the shoe is mounted on a last for shaping.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 45

“When you cut out a leather form using a pattern, you need to cut it quickly, with a steady and firm hand. I don’t have any problem with the cutting process, but when I make tight stitching my eyes get tired. It’s only natural since I’ll be turning 60 soon. But I’m not afraid to retire because my second son will be succeeding me.”

this disappearing tradition has led Hwang to revive several other types of shoes, including mokhwa , men’s wooden-sole deerskin boots; heuk­ hye , black-flannel footwear of Buddhist monks; and yuhye , water-resistant boots made with oil-treated leather.

72-step Process During the Joseon Dynasty, people wore more than 20 different kinds of shoes, depending on the wearer’s gender and social status, as well as the season and occasions. While the king and queen wore jeokseok and cheongseok, court officials would wear hwa boots with their formal attire. The boots were made of deerskin, lambskin, or silk, while for rainy days there was a water-resistant type (suhwaja ). Worn mainly by men and women of the noble class, hye refers to a variety of flat shoes with a low vamp. There was also taesahye , a nobleman’s shoes with a higher vamp and edges trimmed with strips of silk or lambskin. The toe area was broad and high, with the heel being decorated with scrolling vines. Danghye were a kind of women’s shoes decorated with elegant scroll patterns, while unhye included a bamboo-leaf shaped patch attached at the toe, and a stylish shape that was often compared to a swallow’s beak. Other types included black leather shoes (heukpihye), oiled leather rain boots (yuhye), winter shoes with a plush lining for warmth (onhye), and the simple straw footwear of commoners.

“To make a pair of unhye, it takes five 46 Koreana | Winter 2009

days just to prepare the materials, and three to seven more days to finish them, if you work six to seven hours a day. And the process involves 72 steps.

Each step requires skilled handwork, but most important is binding the sole and upper body together perfectly. You have to take special care when sewing them together. The essence of traditional shoes is their delicate balance, which can only be achieved when the binding process is perfect. Since the sole is slightly smaller than a shoe’s upper body, when you sew them together, the stitching needs to be wider along the body and narrower along the sole. If this is not done precisely, the shoe will be misshaped and the tip of the toe will be misaligned.”

The hye is characterized by a graceful curve along its edge, from a low vamp back to the heel, which is created by a stiff pad attached to the leather. The pad is made by gluing together several layers of cotton and ramie, or cotton and hemp cloth, which is then exposed to natural elements of morning dew, direct sunlight, and fresh air. When the pad gets as stiff as a board, due to a repeated cycle of being exposed to moisture and drying out, it is cut to form with a pattern, and then attached to satin silk or other outer-cover material. The upper and lower edges of the shoe body are bound with bias tape and then stitched together. Patches of cloth attached to the sides serve as braces to reinforce the desired shape. Then, the inner lining is cut and attached to the inside of the pad with rice glue. The needle

1 For women’s shoes, decorative embroidery, such as longevity symbols, provide an elegant appearance.

2 Traditional Korean shoes are stitched with needles made of boar bristle because steel needles are too rigid and can leave unsightly marks on the shoes.

3 In the final stage, the shoe form is mounted on a last and pounded into shape with a mallet.

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used for stitching is from the bristle of a wild boar.

While showing his boar bristle needle, Hwang explains: “Steel needles are too rigid and leave unsightly marks, but a bristle needle is strong and flexible. This is the perfect needle for sewing traditional shoes.” Of note, the boar bristle needle is threaded at the tip, rather than the base, which nonetheless results in a seamless connection. After dozens of steps, two layers of material are cut out and bonded together to make the sole. Once the sole and shoe body have been stitched together, the shoe is mounted on a last and shaped into form with a wooden mallet. The shoes are then dried over a coal fire. Finally, the shoes are complete after talcum powder is rubbed into the seams.

Six Generations “When you cut out a leather form using a pattern, you need to cut it quickly, with a steady and firm hand. You need both skill and strength. When I was younger, I could cut through heavy leather with ease. I don’t have any problem with the cutting process, but when I make tight stitching my eyes get tired. It’s only natural since I’ll be turning 60 soon. But I’m not afraid to retire because my second son will be succeeding me, which gives me great peace of mind.”

His two sons, Deok-seong (31) and Deok-jin (29), are his No. 1 supporters, who have watched their father at work since they were young children. His younger son is more skillful and has thus been selected to succeed his father, meaning that at least

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one more generation of the Hwang family is in place to carry on the craft of traditional shoemaking. When our photographer wanted to take a photograph of the father and son working together, Hwang refused, while noting: “My son is still learning to master each of the 72 steps. Without having completed a pair of shoes all by himself, he should not yet be recognized as an artisan.” He went on to explain: “When we

make traditional shoes, we do not distinguish between left and right. A shoe itself forms a perfect symmetry with its opposite side. The distinction emerges and becomes clearer as each shoe is shaped according to the contour of the wearer’s foot.” Similarly, he looks forward to his son’s natural transformation into a true artisan through continuous hard work and personal dedication to his craft.

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MASTERPIECES

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s an energy source that provided humans with heat and light, fire has been an essential factor behind the development of human civilization. In ancient society, fire was a fundamental need of everyday life, as well as an integral aspect of spiritual and religious rituals. The light of fire would create a sacred and mystical atmosphere, while its diffusive nature served as a symbol for the spread of religious beliefs. In Buddhism, a lantern is used to symbolize wisdom, liberation, compassion, proper behavior, and rebirth. Its significance can be easily discerned from the fact that the humble act of lighting a lantern on a Buddhist altar was regarded as the most noble form of an offering to the Buddha.

Crouching Lions Ever since Buddhism arrived on the Korean Peninsula, stone lanterns, along with Buddha statues and stone pagodas, have invariably been a part of every Buddhist temple. Currently, some 280 lanterns, including those with only partial remains, have been found on the grounds of temples or at sites where a temple once stood. At the former site of Godalsa Temple, its twin-lion stone lantern (Treasure No. 282) had once been a prominent symbol of Buddhist belief.

Originally, this stone lantern was erected at the temple site located in Yeoju, Gyeonggi-do Province, but it was relocated to Gyeongbokgung Palace, in Jongno-gu, Seoul in 1959. Thereafter, its roof stone was rebuilt in 2000 as part of a restoration project conducted by Gijeon Research Institute for Buried Cultural

Properties. Today, the restored stone lantern is exhibited at the National Museum of Korea. It has been practically restored to its original form, from the base level up to the roof stone, except for a missing finial. Each part of the stone lantern contributes to the notable elegance and balance of its structural composition.

Each face of the square base at the very bottom of the lantern stand is carved with two sets of eye-shaped designs. Above the thick base is a large stone carved in the shape of two crouching lions, side by side, on a square slab. The lion paws protrude from beneath their chests, while their heads are turned slightly toward each other, as if engaged in conversation. This position is noteworthy because most of the twin-lion stone lanterns from the previous Unified Silla period (668-935) feature lions standing upright, on their hind legs, directly facing each other on the pedestal and holding the light-chamber with their front paws.

Unlike the more dynamic depiction of lions of the past era, the lion figures in this Goryeo Dynasty (918-1392) stone lantern have a composed appearance. This is mainly due to their crouching stance, in which their four legs are firmly placed onto the pedestal, as well as their neatly arranged manes and firmly closed mouths, barely revealing clenched teeth. This arrangement of the two lions seems related to the inclusion of a column rising above the two beasts. The upright position of the previous era was not feasible, because any structure above the lions would appear too precarious and unstable. This new style, with crouching lions, appears to have been developed to provide added structural stability, while also preserving the twin-lion motif. The support

Stone Lantern with Crouching Lions of

Godalsa Temple Site

This unique stone lantern, supported by two crouching lions, is an example of the creative artisanship of the Goryeoperiod society. Although this is the only known Goryeo stone lantern with a twin-lion pedestal, this style can be seen in the subsequent Joseon Dynasty as well.

Park Kyoung-shik Professor of History, Dankook University Photographs National Museum of Korea

48 Koreana | Winter 2009

column includes a slightly thicker prop element between the two lions. The prop’s entire surface is carved with cloud patterns, giving the impression that the column is floating on clouds, rather than sitting directly on the prop.

Changing Styles A disk-shaped prop cap is tapered slightly upward, providing an elevated platform for the column’s placement. The cap’s upper face, which flares outward from the bottom of the column, is carved with clouds. The column consists of symmetrical upper and lower sections that are joined together with a large square slab. The silhouette of this column resembles the stone lantern of the ninth century, when the column included a noticeable bulge in its middle section, for which it was named “lantern with a drum-shaped column.” The bottom of the trapezoidal lower column is flat so that it sits securely on the prop, while its four sides feature cloud carvings. Directly above is the square slab that divides the column into two sections, providing a sense of stability to the entire support column.

The slab is slightly raised to provide a platform for the upper column, giving the appearance of an upturned trapezoid. In fact, however, it is roughly an octagon-shape, with eight sides embellished with flower and grass patterns.

Atop the column is a large bowl-shaped stone that holds the light-chamber. Carved from a single block of stone, it is also in the general shape of an octagon, with a stepped bottom. The outer

A twin-lion motif, commonly seen in stone lanterns of the Unified Silla period, was not a part of the Goryeo Dynasty, except for this lantern excavated from the Godalsa Temple site. In contrast to its earlier counterparts, this stone lantern features two lions in a crouching stance, which contributes to its structural stability.

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surface is carved with large lotus blossoms and leaves, with the top being slightly raised to form a stand for the light-chamber. The light-chamber stone is a large octagonal box structure with four openings, or windows, on alternate sides. The sides without windows are carved along the edges to give the appearance of a framed structure. There is nothing particularly noteworthy about the roof stone, other than its octagonal shape.

Although it has incurred considerable damage, with most of its edges broken or chipped off, you can easily imagine its original form.

Apart from a three-stepped bottom, there are no other decorative elements beneath the eaves. The roof face includes a band carved with 16 lotus blossoms. The roof face slopes gently downward to the eaves and includes distinctive ridges and corners, which turn slightly upward. Only the finial has been lost.

This stone lantern is noteworthy for its stylistic adaptation of the twin-lion motif and “drumshaped” column, which were popular in the Unified Silla period, as well as its attractively styled square and octagonal elements. As such, this work is an artistic achievement that reflects a creative evolutionary process of past sculptural characteristics.

Although it is the only known Goryeo Dynasty stone lantern with a twin-lion motif, two Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) lanterns of a similar style have been recovered from the Hoeamsa Temple site, in Yangju,

Gyeonggi-do Province, and the Cheongnyongsa Temple site, in Chungju, Chungcheongbuk-do Province. Although its stylistic features are not as exquisite as the stone lanterns of the Unified Silla period, it serves as another example of the creative evolution of artistic traditions. Based on its overall characteristics, this stone lantern is presumed to have been made sometime during the 10th century (early Goryeo Dynasty).

Korean Buddhist Art As one of the most ferocious animals, the lion has long been a prominent symbol of Buddhist art, which can be seen in the pedestals of Buddha statues created in India. The depiction of this fierce animal, which provided protection and structural support for sacred structures, was meant to symbolize the Buddha’s supreme essence, sacredness and worship.

This concept was introduced to Korea, by way of China, as part of the process in which Buddhism was transmitted to various Asian countries from India. In Korean Buddhist art, a lion motif first appeared on the pedestal of Korea’s oldest existing Buddha statue, the Seated Bronze Buddha of Ttukseom. A similar lion figure is found on the pedestal of an eighth-century Buddha statue recovered from the site of Janghangri Temple site in Gyeongju. In the eighth century, the lion motif became more popular and was also carved on the base surfaces of stone pagodas, as is the case of the

During the Unified Silla period, various works of sculpture featured lion figures that were often depicted in an upright stance, standing on their hind legs.

However, this stone lantern (opposite page) is supported by a base with two crouching lions, which adds to its structural stability.

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Dabotap Pagoda, at Bulguksa Temple, and the three-story stone pagoda with four lion figures, at Hwaeomsa Temple. In the ninth century, near the end of the Unified Silla period, the lion motif was also applied to the base of stone pagodas that enshrined sarira, thereby becoming a ubiquitous religious symbol for a variety of traditional stone structures.

In this process, the stone artisans of Unified Silla came up with an artistic innovation that included the addition of lion figures to the stone lantern’s support column. Until that time, the structure of stone lanterns had been quite simple with octagonal bases and columns. By using stone lions to support the light-chamber, an entirely new style was created that had never been seen in all the world. Above all, this stone lantern is a product of the religious devotion of its followers in Korea, as well as the passion and artistic creativity of the Silla stone craftsmen.

As mentioned earlier, the stone lantern of Godalsa Temple site is a unique design that was created by adding changes to the lion motif borrowed from lanterns of the earlier Unified Silla period. Unlike its earlier counterparts, which had two lions standing on their hind legs with their front legs stretched upward to support the light-chamber, it has a separate column above the two crouching lions, which contributes to its greater structural stability. Moreover, the two lions do not face each

other directly; their heads are turned slightly toward each other as if having a friendly conversation. In this stone lantern, the motif of twin lions was not simply borrowed but largely modified to fit the contemporary aesthetic standard. In addition, the shape of the column with a wide slab in the middle is also an alteration based on the “drum-shaped” columns of the previous century. In fact, the “drum-shaped” column was also a totally new style of stone lantern at the time of its emergence. However, it went through a re-creation process to be used in this stone lantern: the horizontal symmetry of the column—its key feature—is retained but its circular base was transformed into a square base. In sum, this stone lantern shows the creativity of the Goryeo people who were able to make use of established stylistic elements to create a new style.

The lantern is a fundamental aspect of Buddhist architecture, while the stone lantern of Korea has a particularly lengthy history. Moreover, the use of lion figures to support the light-chamber represents a unique innovation that is not seen in India, the birthplace of Buddhism, nor in China, which has been at the forefront of the development of East Asia’s history and culture. In this sense, this style of stone lantern is an indigenous cultural treasure that reflects Korea’s deep-rooted Buddhist and cultural tradition.

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ART REVIEW

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Namhansanseong A Breakthrough for Korean Musicals

The popular novel, Namhansanseong , which depicts the conflict, agony, and intrigue of royal court figures during an invasion of Korea by Qing China in 1636, was adapted into a musical production that created a notable stir among the local theater community.

Won Jong-Won Professor, Soon Chun Hyang University Jung Hyung-woo Photographer

1 Jeong Myeong-su, a Korean translator who was once a servant later betrayed his homeland by becoming a general of Chinese forces when the Qing Dynasty sought to invade the Korean Peninsula. Ye-seong, a popular Korean entertainer, was cast in this role.

2 During the Qing invasion, King Injo sought refuge at Namhansanseong Fortress.

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he year is 1636, with the harsh winter weather swirling snow flakes about in every direction. Hong Taiji, the second king of the Qing Dynasty, China’s new regime, has declared war on Korea’s Joseon Dynasty and ordered the advance of his troops to the Korean Peninsula. Due to its amicable relations with the previous Ming Dynasty, the Joseon court cannot decide on how to respond to Qing’s aggression.

Amid such indecision, the king is advised to take refuge at Namhansanseong Fortress. Although gravely concerned with the situation, King Injo seeks to lighten the mood by suggesting: “Let’s go on an outing to the Namhansanseong Fortress grounds for a view of the snowy landscape. We can enjoy a nap there and then return.”

So goes the opening scene of the recently debuted Namhansanseong musical (a production of the Seongnam Arts Center) which portrays the hardship endured by the Korean people during the second Manchu Invasion. This dark and tragic chapter of Korea’s history may seem ill-suited for the story line of a musical work. However, this story has already been introduced to Korean audiences in the form of a popular movie and a TV historical drama. In the final scene, to signify his surrender, when King Injo kowtows to the Chinese invaders, he strikes his forehead against the ground with such force that it draws blood. This kind of sor-

rowful grief was also expressed in The Last Empress, when the empress, after her assassination by Japanese agents, appears like a ghostly spirit in white funeral clothing to perform “Stand Up, My People!”

Adaptation of Popular Novel Although it deals with historical events, the musical Namhansanseong is based on the 2007 novel of the same title by Kim Hun. This widely read and discussed novel served as the seed for the musical’s production. In an interview at a reception to announce the launch of the musical project, Kim Hun noted: “I remember that our elementary school went on a field trip to the fortress, and I was so impressed when my teacher told us about its history.” That impression inspired Kim Hun to write his bestselling novel years later. From the novel, the musical focused on an underlying quandry of: “Living through dying or dying through living? Glorified by death or marred by life?”

The adaptation of a novel into a musical work is a popular trend of theater worldwide. The well-known musical Les Misérables, the most-staged production with over 24 years of performances, and the French musical Notre Dame de Paris , which has included a Korean version for local audiences, have been based on novels of the same titles, written by the renowned Winter 2009 | Koreana 53

1 1 A n upright figure symbolizes Hong Taiji, the emperor of China’s Qing Dynasty, while a white figure slumped on the floor represents Joseon’s King Injo, who was forced to surrender.

2 I njo contemplates the arguments of pro- and anti-Chinese sentiments among his advisors, which reflect the overriding theme of “Glorified by death or marred by life?”

3 L ead character O Dal-je stands at the fortress wall lamenting his country’s perilous situation. The fortress setting was noteworthy for its simplicity and yet dramatic effect.

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French author Victor Hugo. In addition, The Phantom of the Opera musical is based on the 1909 novel by French mystery writer Gaston Leroux, while the musical Cats was adapted for the stage from Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, a collection of poetry

by T.S. Eliot. Similarly, the Korean musical The Last Empress was based on the novel Fox Hunting, by Yi Mun-yol.

When a story is adapted to the stage, the written word takes on a real-life form through the performers, stage setting, and musical accompaniment. Accordingly, for viewers who have already read the novel, their imaginary thoughts are brought to life, while viewers of the musical who read the novel afterward might be enthralled to find something new that is not shown on the stage. In this way, such a musical takes advantage of the novel’s popularity among the general public, while the musical work can serve to stimulate additional readers of the particular novel, thereby creating a win-win situation for the author as well as the musical’s producer.

Creative Interpretation Although based on a bestselling novel, the addition of lyrics, music, dance choreography, and stage settings does not guarantee that a musical work will be successful. A novel can provide a framework and theme for a musical, but the adaptation of a novel to the theater poses various challenges due to the intricacies of stage effects and mechanisms. Instead of following the novel’s narrative structure, a musical will often feature a varied storyline

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and reinterpretation of various characters for greater dramatic effect and audience appeal. Indeed, this kind of approach is an example of the cultural industry’s “One Source, Multiple Use” concept, under which a basic source is used to create a variety of applications or “flavors.”

A noteworthy aspect of the musical Namhansanseong is its reinterpretation of the novel and the lead characters. In particular, O Dal-je, though a less significant character in the novel, and one of the three high-ranking government officials who vigorously advocates all-out efforts to resist Qing China, is portrayed as the musical’s main character resulting in a new perspective for the novel’s interpretation. This creativity allows a romance to develop between O Dal-je and concubine Mae-hyang, which creates tension between O Dal-je’s pregnant wife Nam and Mae-hyang, along with a love triangle involving Mae-hyang, O Dal-ji, and Jeong Myeong-su, a Korean general who has turned against his homeland and joined the Chinese invaders. These variations help to add dramatic flair to the musical’s story. By nature, as compared to a novel, which allows for the depiction of characters’ solemnity as well as sorrow in a subtle and complex manner, the musical form is better suited to the provision of motifs and reasons for the audience and emotional sentiments.

Another laudable effort of the musical is its creative portrayal

of the life of ordinary people caught up in the battle on the fortress ground. The humorous banter of vagabond drama groups and their light-hearted songs provide needed relief for the audience from the story’s portrayal of such a dark period in Korea’s history. The commoners are forced to wander without knowledge of where to go, enduring the tragedy of losing their fathers, having to step over the corpses of soldiers on the fortress grounds, and enduring rape and pillage by the Chinese invaders. Despite such extreme adversity, these ordinary people are depicted as being forever hopeful in their songs. The musical thus reveals the resilience of Korean people, who show a tremendous strength of character in overcoming the atrocity and tragedy of war. The Korean people’s ability to maintain humor in hardship, laughter in tears, and smiles in crying, is vividly presented in the musical.

Large-scale Korean Musicals About 180 musical works are staged annually in Korea, not including various musicals for children. Especially around the year-end, dozens of musicals are performed,2 offering fans an abundance of choices. These include foreign musical productions on tour that stage performances in Korea, with a foreign cast and support staff; foreign musicals that are translated into Korean versions, for which a royalty fee is paid; and entirely Korean 3

Winter 2009 | Koreana 55

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Of particular note, the Namhansanseong production, from the very outset, was intended to be staged as a large-scale musical work. As such, this stands in stark contrast to the prevailing environment, in which the vast majority of domestic musical projects are presented at small-scale or non-mainstream performance venues, for an audience of 200 to 300.

musicals, based on Korean history and culture that are produced locally and use a Korean cast and support staff.

Original Korean musicals well outnumber foreign works, by fourfold or fivefold; however, this does not tell the whole story. In particular, foreign musicals take advantage of economy of scale by operating on a large-scale and are presented at prominent theaters.

In contrast, the typical Korean musical is staged at a smaller venue and makes do with a minimal budget. So while Korean productions dominate the musical scene in terms of the number of works, foreign musicals account for a majority of the “big hit” shows.

As such, the Korean musical sector is desperate for the production of a work that can compete with the scale and audience appeal of foreign musicals. Therefore, the Namhansanseong production is particularly noteworthy, since from the very outset it was intended to be a large-scale musical work. Moreover, this stands in stark contrast to the prevailing environment, in which the vast majority of domestic musical projects are presented at small-scale or non-mainstream performance venues mostly located near Daehak-ro, for an audience of 200 to 300.

There have been cases in which a musical started at a small venue is later staged at a larger theater, after its popularity is proven. For example, Rent and Avenue Q both started out at offBroadway theaters and then moved up to large-scale stages as a result of strong audience demand. In Korea, Singles and Broth-

ers in Arms are similar cases of small-scale musicals that have been upgraded to medium-size venues. However, in large part, a large-scale musical should be produced for a full-size theater, in order to optimally utilize the larger stage area, manpower, and more advanced lighting and audio systems. Sometimes, a musical made for a small theater is staged in big theaters in large cities during a tour, resulting in a awkward situation like a child wearing his father’s suit. At Korea’s annual Musical Awards, which are presented every spring, candidate works must be of a certain minimum scale in order to be considered, while the same is true for the Tony Awards of Broadway.

In regard to a competition, it is often said that: “You can’t win if you don’t enter.” So unless someone is willing to try the production of a successful large-scale Korean musical will remain a pipedream. Moreover, this kind of creative endeavor will naturally involve a process of considerable trial and error. It is thus praiseworthy and heartening that the Seongnam Arts Center, beyond its role as a venue for cultural interaction, was prepared to spearhead the efforts for this musical production and strive to promote long-term brand name recognition for Namhansanseong. For this successful initial step, I must applaud the management of the Seongnam Arts Center, along with the production staff and cast members, while also looking forward to future endeavors that can build on this positive momentum.

1 A love triangle involving O Dal-je, his concubine Mae-hyang, and the traitor Jeong Myeong-su is a key aspect of the story line.

2 O Dal-je’s wife Nam (in the middle) is freed from the enemy thanks to Maehyang’s shrewdness.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 57

DISCOVERING KOREA

58 Koreana | Winter 2009

Earl Jackson, Jr.

Finds a Heartfelt Home in Korea As a professor of Cinema Studies and co-director of the Trans Asia Screen Culture Institute, Earl Jackson Jr. interacts with film scholars and filmmakers from all around Asia to enhance his expertise about the film sector of individual Asian countries. He works on various collaborative projects, organizes cinema conferences, and edits The Journal of Trans Asia Screen Culture .

Hwang Sun-Ae Freelance Writer | Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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arl Jackson, Jr. has resided in Korea since only 2006, but he has succeeded in learning the nuances of Korea’s unique cultural code, even before being conversant in the Korean language.

In all likelihood, he has managed this transition because upon his arrival in Korea, he felt in his heart this was his home, while quickly coming to love the Korean people and its culture. He is thus involved in various cultural endeavors alongside his work at the Korea University of Arts, which he recently joined after teaching American poetry at Korea University.

New Perspective on Asia

Professor Earl Jackson, Jr. is an avid movie fan with a collection of some 3,000 film videos and DVDs.

Jackson first visited Korea in 2004 at the invitation of Professor Kim Soyoung, whom he had met at a conference in Hawaii. After several brief visits, he resigned his position at the University of California at Santa Cruz and made Korea his home. This was not the first foreign country in which Jackson has lived. After growing up in a crime-ridden area of Buffalo, New York, at 18, he made his way to Europe to study literature, which included a summer among the scenic Alps of Austria and a year in Bavaria. Europe proved to be a real “eye opener,” revealing much of the world’s truly gorgeous natural scenery.

After attending the University of Wuerzburg, he studied German literature at SUNY Buffalo (The State University of New York at Buffalo). He intended to learn Hungarian, but his tutor abruptly ended.

He was advised to study Japanese, a less popular language choice, but this path eventually led to his career as a Japan specialist. Under the FALCON program, he attended an intensive one-year course of Japanese-language study at Cornell University, along with earning an MA degree there. In the 1970s, he studied in Japan, with a focus on Noh theater and Japanese medieval literature. Thereafter, he pursued the study of Buddhism at Harvard, and received a doctorate degree in comparative literature from Princeton.

His arrival in Korea proved to be crucial for his acquisition of a more profound understanding of Asia than what he had gained from his experiences in Japan. “I based my understanding of Asia on my many years as a Japan specialist. Learning about Korea changed my perspective. Korea’s a country that’s had really difficult problems and has a different relationship with Asia than Japan does.

Japan exists in a bubble. In Korea, I’ve become more engaged with Asia because Korea is truly in Winter 2009 | Koreana 59

Asia. I’ve revised my whole attitude toward Asia by decentralizing Japan, thereby correcting my distorted view of Asia.”

This new perspective guides the direction of his work efforts.

As a professor of Cinema Studies and co-director of the Trans Asia Screen Culture Institute, he interacts with filmmakers from all around Asia to enhance his expertise on the cinema sector of individual Asian countries. He undertakes projects in collaboration with Professor Kim Soyoung, now his colleague, along with organizing film conferences and editing The Journal of Trans Asia Screen Culture. This November, a conference was organized that included the participation of Indian and Malaysian filmmakers, based on a theme of Asia’s multiculturalism. It was intended to promote an understanding of multiculturalism, an integral aspect of globalization.

In particular, Jackson hopes to reveal how people of different cultural-linguistic backgrounds manage to coexist, because of his belief in multiculturalism’s ability to create an ideal society, although he also acknowledges its related problems. Nowadays, Korea has emphasized multiculturalism because of its growing numbers of foreign workers and international marriages, but he is cognizant of instances of unequal treatment toward nonwhite foreigners. “I recently saw an experiment on TV. A white man stood on a street corner, looking at a map. Before asking for help, people approached to offer assistance even though he spoke only English. Then, a Filipino who spoke good Korean approached people and politely asked for directions. Everyone refused. Not a single person offered to help. Very eye opening.”

Avid Fan of Korean Cinema Jackson’s passion for literature and film was evident from early on. As a teenager, he would often skip school to sit all day on a park bench, reading books of his favorite authors, like James 60 Koreana | Winter 2009

Joyce and Gertrude Stein. After being expelled from school, he worked at a bakery, and later took the Regents Exams for admission to the state university system. Although self-taught, he was the only one in his high-school class of 400 to receive a full scholarship to SUNY Buffalo. Instead of attending high school classes, he spent his time watching film classics. “I gained time by skipping school. I’d walk to the University of Buffalo and watch films.

They showed great films, like Resnais’ Last Year at Marienbad .

All the major European films. They didn’t check IDs or anything!

I watched everything. Bergman films, Godard, everything during my late teenage years. It was great. I was so lucky.”

His passion for movies has made him an avid collector of international films. His collection amounts to about 3,000 DVDs, including Korean classics from the 1950s and 1960s that he really loves. His favorite directors are Lee Man-hee, Kim Ki-young, and Shin Sang-ok. As for his appreciation of Korean cinema, Jackson explains: “In Korean films, the issue of survival with dignity is ever present. How to find value in life, and how to judge that value.

Even unstated, it’s always lurking. There’s a recently rediscovered Lee Man-hee movie from 1968, Hyuil , which means holiday. It’s perhaps the darkest, most pessimistic film I’ve seen. It was even banned for being too negative. It’s about two people who meet on a Sunday. They’re in love but lack money, and don’t know how they’re going to live.”

Korea has endured much tragedy, especially in the last century, which is reflected in films of the 1950s and 1960s. But Korean society gained affluence in the 1980s, while confronting other problems depicted in recent films. Jackson, however, still finds the theme of survival. “There’s a brilliant film from 2003, Baramnan Gajok, or A Good Lawyer’s Wife. God, that was great!

It was about a very affluent family. The husband was a lawyer, but their life was intolerable. Remember the beginning, unearthing

“I based my understanding of Asia on my many years as a Japan specialist. Learning about Korea changed my perspective. In Korea, I’ve become more engaged with Asia because Korea is truly in Asia. I’ve revised my whole attitude toward Asia by decentralizing Japan, thereby correcting my distorted view of Asia.”

Professor Jackson highly praises Korean films for their ability to portray the subtlety of Korean culture. He recently helped to write the screenplay for a Korean film.

of massacred bodies? They can’t tell who killed whom. Always that background! I thought it was a truly brilliant film.”

Jackson often visits the noncommercial Seoul Art Cinema, which shows classic international films, where he has seen the sophistication of Korean movie audiences. “The Seoul Art Cinema held a Fassbinder retrospective, showing everything, even his TV work. At the end, to celebrate, they devoted two days to Berlin Alexanderplatz. That’s 16 hours long, so it lasted from 9 a.m. until late. And free! But it was packed, even at nine in the morning. Packed! English subtitles, but still packed. That reveals their cinematic sophistication.”

But he worries about the future of Korean cinema. Due to U.S. pressure during the negotiations for a Korea-U.S. Free Trade Agreement in 2006, the Korean government agreed to reduce its quota for Korean films, from 146 days to 73. That might trigger Korea’s cinematic collapse, as was the case with Mexico, in the 1990s. Jackson objects strongly to this. “Terrible! The quota should be reinstated. It made wonderful films possible in the early 1990s that wouldn’t have otherwise happened. Halving the quota does absolutely nothing for Korean culture. It only makes investors unlikely to fund adventurous films, or any films.”

While enjoying life here to the utmost, Jackson excels at identifying cultural nuances. He especially learns much by watching Korean movies. He mentions the 2005 movie Sarangni (Blossom Again ), pointing to its typically Korean aspects. “There are ways Koreans express affection that might seem like anger. If you read the code, you can understand. There’s this small film

I loved, called Sarangni . What seemed most Korean came toward the end. All the people in this odd romance are together, about to finish dinner, and the conversation wanders. The lead actress has just had a wisdom tooth pulled, but she starts to pour herself a glass of wine, and two guys grab her glass. They shout: ‘Are you crazy?

You just took a pain pill!’ That’s so Korean. They’re caring for you, but they say it like a scolding.

There’s absolute affection, but you have to know the code.”

Jackson loves traveling, and especially any chance to enjoy swimming and snorkeling, perhaps because of his dream of once becoming a marine biologist. He has swum with sharks off the Belize coast and loves Korea’s South Sea, even after experiencing a jellyfish attack there. His travels have taken him to unusual places. He once visited the steep-sloped island of Maemuldo where he met a 90-year-old man who told him about how his mother had watched the approach of Japanese ships in 1905!

Although he has been well captivated by the charms of Korea, he is actively seeking to improve his Korean language skills. As such, he has learned much from working on screenplay scripts, such as the script for Viewfinder, a film directed by his colleague Kim Soyoung for the Pusan International Film Festival. Though he initially wrote part of the script in English, he also helped to translate the text and even coached the main actor with the dialogue.

Says Jackson: “That has been the single most important event in my learning the Korean language, far better than traditional pedagogy.” For Earl Jackson Jr., it seems that Korea itself has been the most valuable source of his nontraditional learning experiences.

Winter 2009 | Koreana 61

ON THE GLOBAL STAGE

Oh Eunsun’s

Quest to Climb the Himalaya’s Highest Peaks

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Oh Eunsun is one of the world’s foremost women mountain climbers. After having scaled four peaks of the Himalayas in the spring and summer of 2009, she recently attempted to climb Annapurna, but was not able to succeed due to hazardous weather. Her effort to become the first woman to conquer all 14 Himalayan peaks of more than 8,000 meters, will have to be resumed next year.

Shin Young-chul Editorial Director, Man and Mountain Photographs Shin Young-chul

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nown as the roof of the world, the Himalayas are home to 14 peaks that reach at least 8,000 meters in height, including the legendary Everest. Many mountain climbers refer to the Himalayan peaks as the realm of the gods. Although 18 men have successfully ascended all 14 of these peaks, no woman climber has yet attained this feat. As such, a race is underway to determine the first woman climber to do so.

Elite Competition

1 Oh Eunsun scaled Gasherbrum 1 in the summer of 2009

Although a number of women mountain climbers have sought to become the first to achieve this feat, which will bring the victor national glory, Oh Eunsun (43) of Korea, Edurne Pasaban (36) of Spain, Nives Meroi (48) of Italy, Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner (39) of Austria, and Go Miyoung (42) of Korea, have long been regarded as the most likely candidates. Unfortunately, in the summer of 2009, Go Miyoung fell and was killed, during her descent of the 8,126-meter Nanga Parbat.

In recent years, these five elite climbers have engaged in a heated competition, which has attracted the keen attention of mountain-climbing enthusiasts the world over. Moreover, this intense race has seen its share of glory as well as tragedy. In the summer of 2009, Nanga Parbat proved to be where such glory

2 To commemorate her conquest of Kanchenjunga, Oh stood atop the peak with a Korean flag.

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1 Along with treacherous winds, climbers must constantly deal with blinding snow storms

2 Nanga Parbat is one of the 14 Himalayan peaks that reach at least 8,000 meters in height

the Himalayan peaks enters its final phase, it is evident that one slight mistake could cost a contender a shot at the title or even much more, as evidenced by the tragic death of Go Miyoung. Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner failed on two occasions to conquer K2 (8,611 meters), after being forced to abort at the 8,200-meter mark.

Kaltenbrunner is one of Oh’s strongest competitors, because if she had succeeded in scaling K2 she would have equaled Oh’s record of 13 peaks. Edurne Pasaban’s failure to climb Shisha Pangma (8,027 meters) and Nives Meroi’s abandonment of her attempt to scale Kanchenjunga (8,596 meters), earlier this year, left the two one peak behind Oh. Today, all that stands between Oh and the dream for which she has been willing to risk her life is the majestic peak known as Annapurna (8,091 meters).

‘If the Himalayas Accept Me’

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and tragedy intersected. I visited the base camp at Nanga Parbat in July 2009 to interview Oh Eunsun and Go Miyoung. The two Korean women climbers were brimming with confidence. Oh Eunsun reached the peak on July 10, and Go Miyoung followed suit, within another four hours. However, tragedy struck the next day as both women began their descent, after spending the night at Camp 1. It was then that the unthinkable happened, as Go Miyoung lost her footing at the 6,200-meter level and plummeted to her death.

After Oh Eunsun returned to Korea on August 12, I contacted her to arrange a meeting. When we got together, I remember thinking how she looked like someone suffering from an utter sense of grief. Oh was so devoid of energy that she seemed like someone who had just recovered from a serious illness. As the arduous climbing season had sapped her physical and spiritual strength, her state of exhaustion was readily apparent. She had just returned from two months of climbing the Karakoram region of the Himalayas. Looking at this petite woman, who is only 150 centimeters tall and weighs a mere 50 kilograms, it was indeed a mystery to me how she could achieve such feats of superhuman endurance.

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A few days after my meeting with Oh, she attended a welcome-home gathering organized by Gasanhoe, an informal group of mountain climbers, whose name can be roughly translated as beautiful mountains. She is said to be especially fond of such gettogethers. “Although I am not a Buddhist, I like Buddhism. You see, I always wear these Buddhist beads on my wrist. My mother is Buddhist and she gave them to me. They have accompanied me on my every quest to reach the top of mountain peaks, and they are a great comfort.”

Although only a few days had passed since our previous meeting, Oh looked surprisingly refreshed. Of course, the comfort of home cannot be compared to the snowy peaks with scant oxygen where Oh spent the summer months. As she accepted a congratulatory wreath, she smiled warmly, showing that her energy had been restored. A celebratory cake with 13 candles, one for each of the peaks that she has conquered, was placed on a table. After she blew out the 13 candles, the president of Gasanhoe quickly placed another candle on the cake to symbolize the 14th and final peak of her record-breaking quest. After Oh blew out this final candle, she was asked to make a few remarks.

“It was very hard.” Everyone was silent as she struggled to express herself. But I knew immediately what she was referring to. In that instant, her mind was filled with thoughts about Go Miyoung, whom I had met at Nanga Parbat. “The period following the incident at Nanga Parbat was very stressful. I remember feeling completely helpless as I watched the rescue operation. It all seemed like a bad dream. I could not stop thinking that I might meet a similar fate. I wandered about Skardu Hotel aimlessly for

“The period following the incident at Nanga Parbat was very stressful. I remember feeling completely helpless as I watched the rescue operation. I wandered about Skardu Hotel aimlessly for about a week. After a while, I finally decided that I would only be able to reach my goal if the Himalayas will accept me, and that there is little I can do if that is not the case.”

about a week, agonizing over the question of whether I should continue with mountain climbing. As all of you know, I was very close to Go Miyoung. We enjoyed a healthy competitive relationship that forced us to be at our best at all times.”

In the end, Oh decided to do things her own way. After her conquest of Nanga Parbat, she took on the challenge of Gasherbrum 1 (8,068 meters), as she had originally planned. With her successful ascent of Gasherbrum 1, Oh has now scaled 13 of the 14 Himalayan peaks, thereby capturing the lead among the competitors vying for the honor of conquering all 14 peaks. “After a while, I finally decided that I would only be able to reach my goal if the Himalayas accept me, and that there is little I can do if that is not the case. It was at that point that I decided to proceed with my plans to climb Gasherbrum 1.”

Certain transcendental forces have seemed to assist Oh in her endeavors. In the period just prior to her arrival at the Gasherbrum 1 base camp, no climber was able to advance up the peaks in the

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surrounding area because of hazardous weather. However, the weather suddenly cleared after Oh arrived at the base camp. And since she was already well-adjusted to the high altitude, she managed to reach the Gasherbrum 1 peak despite treacherous winds.

During her descent, she again witnessed a near-death incident.

“Suddenly, I saw someone zoom by me. It was a member of a foreign team who had accompanied us on the way up. My Sherpa and I were using ropes, but this person and his colleague had not bothered to tie themselves together. He fell about 300 meters right in front of my eyes. Many thoughts flashed through my mind.

I remember thinking that this was how he was going to go out!

Luckily, he was able to angle himself toward a snowy area of the mountain slope. If he had fallen at a slightly different angle, he would have cleared the cliff and plunged several thousand meters to certain death. Really, the difference between life and death can be so miniscule at times.”

Although still a young woman, Oh talks about death in a com-

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2 1 In Korea, Oh Eunsun gained practical experience by climbing mountains such as Insubong peak of Mt. Bukhansan.

2 Oh Eunsun and Edurne Pasaban of Spain are two of the world’s most elite mountain climbers

3 From various setbacks, Oh has learned that her success will ultimately depend on nature’s acceptance of her challenge.

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posed manner. This attitude is probably the result of her having experienced so many fatal outcomes. The margin between life and death is indeed a thin line for anyone who dares to climb the Himalayas. It is a world of whiteness, in which someone that was standing right next to you one moment might be forever gone the next instant. In this realm, death’s long shadow looms over everyone’s fate.

Non-oxygen Aided Climbing Oh Eunsun’s phone rang during our conversation. “Oh, Mom. Yes. I’ll be home soon.” Even though 43 years old, Oh, who is single, is still doted on by her mother, which she jokes about but also serves to cast light on the personal life of one of Korea’s greatest women of this century. So, I asked her: “How do you feel now that you have only one more peak, Annapurna, left to conquer? Do you have any sense of complacency with success being so close within your grasp?”

Up until a few years ago, Oh was relatively unknown to the outside world. Foreign media knew about Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner, Edurne Pasaban, and Nives Meroi, and their exploits, while expecting one of the three to be the first to climb all 14 peaks.

However, the situation is wholly different today. Oh Eunsun, who had long been thought of as a dark horse, is now receiving growing attention from the media. More recently, foreign publications, such as Sapin and ExplorersWeb, have written articles on Oh and her pursuit of the record.

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“I have no time for complacency. I still have to keep an eye on Edurne Pasaban. She is a very strong climber and there are many alpinists and media outlets in Spain which are supporting her.

They will not give up on her.” Her concern is noticeable. She truly believes that she cannot be complacent until she has completed her ultimate goal. However, there is little real cause for concern.

From an objective standpoint, Oh is well positioned to become the first woman climber to achieve this feat, with only one peak remaining.

“To tell the truth, the pressure is intensifying as the possibility of becoming the first woman climber to achieve this record draws closer. I have to dig deep to maintain my composure.” She is right.

Nothing can be taken for granted. All that it takes to change the tide is one minor mishap. Nevertheless, we should take pride in the achievements of this lithesome woman from Korea, where the highest mountain peaks barely reach 2,000 meters, and in her ability to forge ahead of more physical European women in this thrilling competition.

Oh is the third climber from Asia to scale the highest peaks on seven continents. She is also known for having climbed 11 alpine peaks without the need for oxygen assistance. One of Oh’s notable advantages is the remarkable speed that she can maintain during her ascent. In particular, once Oh has adjusted to the thin air of high altitude, she is relentless in her upward advance. Her desire to climb by herself, with no other team members aside from Sherpas, is another aspect of Oh’s unique style.

She conquered Makalu and Lhotse in 2008, and Kanchenjunga and Dhaulagili in the spring of this year. She then climbed Nanga Parbat and Gasherbrum 1 this past summer, and set out to challenge Annapurna, her final peak, in the autumn of 2009. Unfortunately, she was forced to abandon her record-breaking attempt due to the severe weather on the slopes of Annapurna. According to Oh, it was apparent that “the Himalayas would not have her.”

External Factors Recently, it seems that Oh Eunsun’s heroic quest is not without its share of criticism. As such, various critics have taken issue with such matters as the excessive demands imposed by her corporate sponsors, overheated nature of the competition, and Oh’s willingness, despite questions about her personal capability, to place her welfare at risk for the pursuit of fame. Moreover, concerns have also been expressed about the large-scale assistance that is being made available to Oh and her recent endeavors. However, from a mountain-climbing perspective, I find such criticism to be unwarranted. After all, every elite-class climber is accompanied by a Sherpa team on Himalayan attempts, along with receiving commercial endorsements.

Oh is quick to point out that corporate sponsors have never made any unreasonable demands of her, while noting that she alone decides on what peaks to climb and the strategy of the ascent. In the end, since the climber Oh is ultimately responsible for her own safety, she makes all the decisions in order to ensure her personal welfare. Indeed, with the life-threatening risks of mountain climbing being part of every step along the way, no

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corporate sponsor would impose a demand that might expose a climber to unnecessary peril.

Lee Eijae, secretary of the Korea Alpine Federation, which is the largest association of climbers in Korea, has lamented: “Those who know little about mountain climbing seem to have a negative attitude toward this sport, which can be called a challenge of the unknown.” He also sought to emphasize: “Claims that this sport is marked by excessive competition and commercialism are rooted in people’s ignorance of the nature of the challenges faced by mountain climbers.” As such, the fame that Oh might stand to realize from this feat will mainly result from her ability to overcome such great risks through personal sacrifice.

While studying at the University of Suwon, Oh Eunsun joined the university’s Alpine Club, where she received her practical training about the world of mountain climbing. In 1993, she made her first attempt to scale a world-famous peak, but was unsuccessful in climbing Mt. Everest. While her early years were marked by repeated failures, it was these setbacks that made her the climber that she is today. KBS has already broadcast a documentary about her climbing experiences.

“It feels like you are always being watched. Cameras followed me around all the time. I did my best to cooperate with the filming, but my tent was off limits.” Oh Eunsun has admitted to a growing sense of burden due to the mounting pressure on her to succeed. As for being under a microscope, she will have to adapt to the added attention of being filmed during her attempt to climb Annapurna, the final Himalayan peak of her quest, which could also include live coverage in Korea.

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ON THE ROAD

The Jikjisa Temple grounds bask in autumn sunlight. A pile of roof tiles, painted with the names of temple supporters, which will be used eventually for the temple’s buildings.

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Gimcheon’s Ancient Temples and Famed Pure Water Located along primary transportation routes between Seoul and Busan, such as the Gyeongbu Expressway and National Road No. 4, as well as the Gyeongbu high-speed railway, Gimcheon serves as the gateway to Gyeongsangbuk-do Province.

Kim Hyungyoon Essayist | Kim Yong-chul Photograper

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had last visited Gimcheon about ten years ago to attend the wedding of a relative, who married a young man from the city. Until that time, I had always passed through the city, but never stopping to stay for a while. My impression back then was that Gimcheon seemed to be a city with many blank spaces waiting to be filled in. In geographical terms, it lies about midway along a long vertical axis that links Seoul and Busan. The national railroad lines, expressways, and national roads all pass through the city, making it a strategic transportation center.

Gamcheon’s Clear Waters The river known as Gamcheon flows through the middle of Gimcheon. It is a gathering of waters from countless little streams that reach into all corners of the city, like tiny blood vessels. Flowing from south to northeast, Gamcheon eventually merges into the considerably larger Nakdonggang River. A century ago, the water was deep enough all year round for salt boats from the Nakdonggang to navigate the length of Gamcheon. But the riverbed has since risen due to the cumulative effects of flooding and typhoons.

For the residents of Gimcheon, the river is an important leisure spot, where people enjoy swimming and fishing, especially in the summer. Though my recent

visit was during early autumn, there were still people rolling up their trousers and wading in the water to catch small fish and gather black snails. People were also seen walking or jogging along the wellmaintained pathways atop the river banks, against an idyllic background of reed thickets and migratory birds.

The taxi driver who drove me round the city made a point of boasting about the city’s tap water. He said the local tap water did not come from reservoirs but originated from underground sources. I did not quite understand this, so I called the Water Supply Department of Gimcheon City to ask about it. I was told that a water catchment had been installed about 40 meters beneath the river to supply water that had been naturally filtered through the riverbed sediment, which was then purified before being distributed to users. Hence, Gimcheon’s tap water is derived from flowing river water rather than the stagnant water of a reservoir, which contributes to its superior taste and purity, far beyond what is available in other regions.

In the Gimcheon neighborhood of Namsan-dong there is a stream named Gwahacheon, which is symbolic of the city’s pure water. The stream was given its current name during the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) by a Chinese general, who

is said to have named it after a stream in his hometown in China. Prior to that, it was known as Geumjicheon, or Jucheon, which means “liquor stream,” because liquor made with this water has long been prized for its wonderful taste and fragrance. Gwahaju liquor, which is brewed from this water, remains a specialty product and a source of pride for Gimcheon locals.

Another former name, Geumjicheon, means “stream of gold.” According to the ancient Eastern philosophy of the five elements, metal (gold) comes before water, and is the element from which water is derived. Moreover, the name Gimcheon also means “stream/spring of gold.” Roaming around the city with this fact in mind, it did indeed seem that the water here is especially clean and pure.

The brooks flowing into the fields and the streams flowing through the valleys are out of the ordinary, with water that glistens noticeably. After returning to my room, I drank the water straight out of the tap, with an ease of mind.

Mountain Valley Lodging I spent the night in a private home up a high mountain valley, about 800 meters above sea level. The house was located in Sudo Valley, on a mid-slope of Mt. Sudosan, along the southern outskirts of the

1 Gamcheon Stream is a source of recreation and leisure for the residents of Gimcheon.

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2 The doors of Birojeon (Hall of Vairocana) at Jikjisa Temple

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city. I had looked up Sudo Valley on the Internet and found it to be a beautiful area, like a jewel hidden away in a forest with broad flat rocks, waterfalls, and grazing cows. In the summer, it is said to attract some 3,000 to 4,000 visitors a day. I had an urge to dangle my feet in the water, but this was not to be. As I ventured higher up the slope, dense growths of thorny bushes made it impossible to approach the water.

I had to be content with simply watching the water rush over the falls and make its way downstream, from between the bushes.

The owner of the valley lodging house had worked for a construction business in Daegu before relocating his family to his hometown area some 20 years ago. The

children had since grown up and moved to the big cities, so the owner and his wife, who is originally from Seoul, operate the lodge and a restaurant, along with growing cabbages, potatoes, and apple trees, and raising chickens, pigs, and honey bees. They also have a beloved pet squirrel, which they found in the fields.

The couple invited their unexpected guest, who had arrived close to dusk, to join them at their dinner table. The meal consisted of rice cooked with beans, bean paste stew (doenjang jjigae), pan-fried tofu, and kimchi, together with Korean perilla leaves and daikon radish preserved in soy sauce. To me, this made for a hearty meal, but my host, thinking it was not quite enough, went outside and brought back

some eggs. They were longer than regular eggs, which were quickly fried until golden.

Jikjisa Temple There are several notable temples in the Gimcheon area. After Goguryeo had received the Buddhist dharma from China, it sought to pass Buddhism on to Silla, but the small state in the south resisted its entry. Therefore, Buddhism was not transmitted directly to Gyeongju, the capital of Silla, but instead took hold in Gimcheon, the gateway to Gyeongju.

As such, the Gimcheon area is home to quite a large number of ancient Buddhist temples. Jikjisa Temple, where the original form of Korean Buddhism has been preserved, was built in 418, when the Winter 2009 | Koreana 71

monk Ado sought to introduce Buddhism to Silla, during the reign of King Nulji. For the next 110 years it was a center for the propagation of the Buddhist faith, until Silla finally adopted Buddhism as its state ideology in 527.

My original intention was to spend the night there under its Temple Stay program, for a hands-on experience at the 24th head temple of the Jogye Order, which is why I selected a Saturday night.

But because of the H1N1 flu concerns, the temple was not accepting any overnight guests. On that crisp autumn afternoon, however, Jikjisa was teeming with visitors.

This was the same as my visit ten years ago. The Buddha triad in the main temple hall (Daeungjeon) was as stately as ever, sitting before a large hanging painting, so carefully composed and vividly colored.

The colorful patterns painted on the ceiling were also as brilliant as I remembered. And as usual, women wishing for the good fortune of their family and sons were praying, while holding their hands together, in front of the Buddha Vairocana image, which was newly gilded in 1992.

The charm of traditional Korean

architecture can be found in its restraint and simplicity, which is evident in the structures of Jikjisa. In the past, the color of various newly painted buildings was too harsh, causing visual discomfort, but a refined painting method now creates a more muted and pleasant finish. In addition to the buildings, the charming garden areas give the temple a graceful elegance.

Unfortunately, the structures seemed to be rather densely packed within the temple grounds.

A favorite area of mine is among the lush gardens behind the main hall along a pathway between the hall of Vairocana (Birojeon) and Josajeon (Hall of Josa, founder of a sect). It seemed little changed from ten years ago. Another attractive spot is the garden to the west of the temple museum, where a towershaped chimney, made of tile shards, stands tall. There, I noticed an old gate in the distance. When I reached the gate and opened it, I found myself in front of a small bamboo grove. Bending down slightly to avoid the leaves, I followed a narrow path that led to a garden with a well-tended lawn. To one side was a small build-

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ing that looked like a tea house. I stayed awhile, wandering round the garden. I thought about asking for tea if someone appeared, but after a long time no one came by. But I liked the solitude.

Something else that stood out from my visit to Jikjisa was a realization of just how many freshwater springs there are on its grounds; in fact, many more than at

Gwahacheon stream, famed for its clear waters, meanders through the city of Gimcheon. It was once called Jucheon, which means “liquor stream,” because liquor made with this water has long been prized for its wonderful taste and fragrance. Gwahaju liquor, which is brewed from this water, remains a specialty product and source of pride for Gimcheon locals.

1 A stone monument, inscribed with “stream of liquor,” stands alongside Gwahacheon, whose pure water is used to brew Gwahaju liquor, a local specialty.

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2 Cheonwangmun Gate of Jikjisa Temple 3 Sudo Valley lies to the south of Gimcheon

any other temple. I came across 11 within the temple compound. Stone fountains, gushing forth pure water, are found at all major spots, allowing visitors to quench their thirst at every opportunity. Again, this was another reminder of Gimcheon’s reputation for its clean water.

Sudoam Retreat The next morning, I ventured out to find Sudoam retreat, which I came across after a 30-minute uphill walk. At even this small-scale temple, the courtyard area was immaculate. The early morning sun gently bathed the courtyard, where someone had been busily sweeping up since dawn. For ordinary mortals this might be an early hour, but by this time the monks had already held their morning service and finished breakfast, before retreating to their rooms. In any case, the courtyard was peaceful.

Sudoam was founded in 859 by National Preceptor Doseon, of Silla, and then had been destroyed by fire during the Donghak peasant uprising (1894) during the Joseon Dynasty. The temple’ s stone image of Vairocana Buddha (Treasure No. 307), enshrined in the main hall (Daejeokgwangjeon), is a representative example of Unified Silla-style Buddhist images of the ninth century. East of the main hall is another hall that houses a Medicine Buddha (Yakgwangjeon) sculpture, which has been designated Treasure No.296, along with a pair of three-story stone pagodas that stand in the courtyard.

Regrettably, the ability to discriminate and properly appreciate a Buddhist sculpture of Treasure status is not mine, but I did find the steep stone stairway leading to the main hall and the wide, white courtyard to be awe inspiring. Dazzled by the brilliant scene of sunlight shining onto the mountain temple along the entire flight of stairs, I was overcome with a sense of exhilaration until I managed to descend and stand on firm ground.

Cheongamsa Temple About two kilometers east of Sudoam is another well-known temple: Cheong­

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1 Chimney at Jikjisa Temple, in the shape of a pagoda, made with tile fragments and mud

2 Seongsan Yeosi Hahoetaek, the 18th century ancestral home of the Yeo clan of Seongsan, in the village of Guseong-myeon, which has been designated Gyeongsangbuk-do Provincial Cultural Property No. 388.

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amsa. After inquiring about Cheongamsa at the Gimcheon Cultural Center, I was able to tour this temple with the aid of a volunteer guide, Mun Mal-sun, from the center. A woman in her late 30s who operates a restaurant about 2 kilometers from the temple, she was a good-natured and efficient guide. It is said that this temple was also founded by National Preceptor Doseon. Born in Yeongam, Jeollanam-do Province, Doseon became a monk at the age of 15. He was well versed in the art of geomancy (feng shui) and seems to have indeed roamed freely all over the countryside. His footsteps can be found at the numerous temples that he helped to build in scenic spots across the country, includ74 Koreana | Winter 2009

ing Doseonsa Temple, in Ui-dong, Seoul.

Cheongamsa means “temple of bluegreen rocks,” which comes from the moss-covered rocks in the adjacent valley.

Along the path leading to the temple there is a rocky wall that is indeed covered with moss. A small spring across the way is Ubicheon. From a geomantic perspective, the site of Cheongamsa is said to be configured like a “cow lying down,” with the spring representing the cow’s nose. The nose of a healthy cow is constantly wet; likewise, it was believed that the nation and the temple would prosper so long as the spring waters flowed steadily. Mun, my guide, explained that in times of a national crisis, the spring is said to dry up.

Twice during our tour of the temple, Mun mentioned that it was “difficult” for her to speak at the temple. By this, she meant she was concerned about her voice disrupting the stillness there. Of note, Cheongamsa is occupied by female monks and houses a university for the training of female monks. As such, Mun is especially sensitive about her speech and behavior. I had heard about the university but did not realize it was for female monks until I took notice of the young female monks making their way around the temple grounds.

Unlike most other temples in Korea, there is no restaurant nearby the entrance to Cheongamsa, making its approach seem rather inhospitable. However, within the compound, the young trainees create a warm and lively atmosphere. The temple’s two main halls, Geungnakjeon and Nambyeoldang, can be seen across a stream.

Nambyeoldang is where Queen Inhyeon, the second wife of King Sukjong of Joseon, lived deep in the mountains after being stripped of her royal title in 1689. This building, which features a traditional style of palace architecture, in deference to the queen’s tragic fate, now houses the temple university. At the time of my visit, several students were tending a vegetable garden in front of Geungnakjeon, including a young foreigner with bright blue eyes.

Scars of War In the mountain village of Buhangmyeon, in southwest Gimcheon, there is a

site known as Buhang Lookout. Though a designated Cultural Property of Gimcheon City, it is a vestige of the Korean War that is not identified on any tourist maps. A cultural property in name only, it is nothing more than the leftover ruins of a concrete building, ignored by visitors amid a tangle of weeds. But I could only wonder whether these stone ruins still weigh heavily on the hearts of Gimcheon’s longtime residents.

I remembered hearing about a brassware craftsman, named Kim Il-ung, the pride of Gimcheon, who began his craft at the age of 11 and continued to produce brassware for the next 58 years. During the war, Kim packed up his wares and fled southward, but could not proceed beyond Waegwan.

The host of my mountain lodging confirmed this account, saying that Kim could not advance past Waegwan because the bridge over the Nakdonggang River had been blown up.

It could be said that Gimcheon has

never fully recovered from the scars of war. The North Korean troops, after easily overrunning Seoul, made a beeline for Gimcheon, a transportation center, to set up a base for their advancement to the southern cities of Daegu and Busan. As a countermeasure, the U.N. troops heavily bombarded this age-old city, devastating about 80 percent of the urban district. In the fierce battle between the two sides, the human toll was substantial, including soldiers and civilians who remained behind to defend their village homes. My host told me that his uncle had stayed to defend his home, but ended up being killed, when he was accused of aiding the North Koreans.

I then thought about my first impressions of Gimcheon, and what my views had been based on. Though almost half a century had passed since the war, Gimcheon had still not escaped from this nightmare.

In most rural villages of Korea, traditional style homes, hanok, can still be seen, but

hardly a single one can be found intact in all of Gimcheon. The only hanok I found was the ancestral home of the Yeo clan from Seongsan, in the village of Guseongmyeon, but even that had been abandoned and left in a state of disrepair. It seemed that all the beautiful things of Gimcheon had been destroyed by war, and though much time has passed, there are still empty spaces which need to be filled in.

Buhangcheon stream flows through the village nearby Buhang Lookout. A dam is being constructed upstream to create a water reservoir, which will cause old villages in the area to be submerged underwater. Meanwhile, various public works projects are underway as well. As such, the Neolithic and Bronze Age dwelling sites along the stream are hurriedly being excavated. At this site, where such an ancient civilization intersects with our modern-day society, I can only wonder about Gimcheon’s future direction.

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CUISINE

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Oyster Rice

Flavorful and Hearty, an Ideal Dish for Winter To add variety to the dinner table, Koreans will simply cook their rice together with various seafood items and vegetables. Along with a seasoning sauce, it results in an entirely distinctive taste than that of bibimbap , the popular dish in which cooked rice is mixed with separately prepared vegetables and ingredients.

There are several kinds of ingredient-rice dishes, including kongnamulbap (bean sprout rice) and mubap (radish rice), of which a favorite is gulbap (oyster rice).

With the main ingredient of gulbap being oysters, its natural flavor can be enhanced with the inclusion of such ingredients as seafood, vegetables, and nuts.

Shim Young Soon Director, ShimYoungSoon Korean Food Research Institute | Author, Best Tastes of Korean Food Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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ul (oyster), or guljogae , is written as moryeo (牡蠣) or seokhwa (石花) in Chinese characters. The oyster is a bivalve mollusk (family Ostreidae), of which there are 22 types that are all edible. The fact that oysters have long been consumed by Koreans is known from the discovery of oyster-shell mounds, throughout the Korean Peninsula, which date back to prehistoric times. There are also numerous references to oysters in ancient books, such as Sinjeung dongguk yeoji seungnam (新增東國輿地勝覽, Revised and Augmented Survey of the Geography of Korea ), which states that oysters were a local product of all seven provinces, with the exception of Gangwon-do. As such, Koreans have long been familiar with the preparation and consumption of oysters.

Nutrient-rich Referred to as the “milk of the sea,” oysters are very rich in nutrients. Oyster’s high iron content makes it a good food for people who suffer from anemia, and it is also known to help strengthen liver function. The oyster contains a high level of taurine, which helps to moderate blood pressure in the case of excessive salt intake, along with lowering cholesterol in blood plasma. Oysters are also a source of vitamins (A, D, E, B1, B2, C), niacin, potassium, calcium, and phosphorous, while its calcium is readily absorbed by the human body. In addition, the oyster is said to minimize stress-related ailments, quench your thirst, and promote a healthy complexion. Oysters also contain proteins, such as histidine and lidine. With a soft

For oyster rice (gulbap), the inclusion of various vegetables and nuts helps to enhance the oyster’s savory heartiness.

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Although the main ingredient in gulbap is oysters, the natural flavor of the oysters is enhanced by adding other marine products, vegetables, and various nuts. It is a dish that is eaten hot, with a mixture of soy sauce and mustard stirred in.

texture and being easy to digest, oysters can be served to all ages, from young children to the elderly, as well as people recovering from illness.

In the waters of Korea, oysters reach a peak, in terms of taste and nutrition, in autumn and winter, when they are most flavorful. During this period, the oyster also contains a high level of glycogen, an essential nutrient that serves to boost the body’s energy and metabolism. When oysters spawn in spring and late summer, they tend to be less tasty, due to an increase of calcareous content, along with being more perishable than in other times of the year. Raw oysters should be avoided during the hot summer months because of their elevated levels of toxins, as a result of the maturity of their reproductive organs. Moreover, the oyster is less flavorful at this time as well.

Careful selection and handling of fresh oysters will ensure a nutritious and hearty meal that is perfect to fend off winter’s chill.

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Practice Prudence Because of the oyster’s unique flavor and soft texture, it is best eaten raw. However, the selection and handling of this shellfish must be undertaken with considerable care. When buying oysters, live oysters should be selected, to the extent possible. A fresh oyster has a clear milkywhite color and lustrous surface. In addition, if you poke the flesh with your finger, it should be resilient to the touch. Of particular note, look for an oyster with clear lines on its flesh and resilient firmness.

Oysters should be eaten soon after they are purchased. An unshucked oyster, if refrigerated at a temperature of 10° C, can be kept for about a week, from the time of its harvest.

Shucked oysters should be placed in sea water and refrigerated; however, their freshness will be lost after a few days.

As for natural versus cultivated oysters, it is difficult to distinguish between the two, based on appearance or taste.

Nevertheless, cultivated oysters tend to be more uniform in size and are oftentimes somewhat larger than naturally grown oysters. In addition, there are annual regional variations between natural and cultivated oysters, while the taste and freshness can be affected by the preservation measures that are taken during the distribution process. Therefore, caution should be exercised when purchasing fresh oysters.

Gulbap (Oyster Rice) Preparation

Ingredients

A basic principle of handling fresh oysters, whether they are served raw or prepared for cooking, is to avoid contact with fresh water. To maintain the flavor and freshness of oysters, use salt water to rinse them off or if they need to be stored. Gulbap boasts a delightful flavor, fresh taste, and high level of nutrients.

Although gulbap can be enjoyed yearround in Korea, it is most flavorful when prepared with newly harvested rice.

The following recipe is for a gulbap version that includes various seafood items and vegetables, together with jujubes and an assortment of nuts (walnuts, pine nuts, and ginkgo nuts). This combination of ingredients adds to and complements the oyster’s tastiness.

For many people, a serving of gulbap is perfect when topped with soy sauce and mustard.

3 cups rice, 20 grams kelp, 400 grams oysters, 100 grams small-size shrimp, 1 abalone, 50 grams radish, 30 grams pine mushroom, 3 chestnuts, 2 tablespoons ginkgo nuts, 4 jujubes, 1 tablespoon walnuts, sesame oil, flavored juice, seafood flavored soy sauce, oil, salt

Seasoning sauce: 2 tablespoons soy sauce, 2 tablespoons kelp water, 1 tablespoon chopped shallots, 1 tablespoon mustard sauce, 1/3 tablespoon maple syrup, 1 teaspoon citron syrup, dash of pepper

Preparation 1. Wash the rice and mix in sesame oil.

2. Add 20 grams of kelp, 1 tablespoon of flavored juice, 2 tablespoons of seafood-flavored soy sauce, and salt, to 2 cups of water, and bring to a boil. The flavored juice, which is optional, should be made from the juice of onion, garlic, ginger, and pear. Seafood-flavored soy sauce is made by boiling soy sauce with anchovy, kelp, skipjack tuna, squid, and onion. For this, diluted soy sauce can be substituted.

3. Rinse the oysters in salt water, and then parboil. Slice the shrimp and abalone into strips, and braise, along with the pine mushroom. Peel the chestnuts, and remove seeds from the jujube, then cut into quarters. Slice and parboil the radish.

4. Place the rice mixture from Step 1 in the boiled water prepared in Step 2.

Cook the rice.

5. When the rice is thoroughly steamed, add the ingredients prepared in Step 3, as well as the various nuts. Mix together well. Allow the rice and ingredients to steep.

6. Combine the ingredients for the seasoning sauce. Add the seasoning sauce to the gulbap (oyster rice) and serve, while still warm.

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LIVING

Korea’s Blogging Culture and the Power Blogger

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s everyone knows, joy is sweeter and sorrow less bitter when you can share your feelings with someone. It is our interaction with each other that gives our lives meaning and makes living more worthwhile. And as such, we have sought to share our emotions with others ever since the development of language. Throughout history, this motivation has remained unchanged; only the media have changed for the sharing of our experiences. On the cusp of the new millennium, a new medium was born that has since swept the world: the “blog.” Korea has been caught up in this wave as well, along with developing a unique blogging culture of its own.

Worldwide Phenomenon The word “blog” is derived from the neologism “weblog,” coined in 1997 by John Barger to describe a series of dated posts, displayed from newest to oldest. But the medium itself predates the term, going back to the early days of the World Wide Web. Although there is no general agreement as to exactly when blogging began, it entered the mainstream with the founding of the blogging services Pitas and Blogger in 1999. It is not possible to know exactly how many blogs there are today, but Technorati, a popular blog search engine, reported that they had compiled an index of 112.8 million blogs in 2008.

It was a few years before the blogging wave reached Korean shores, but in 2001, the Weblog-In-Korea site was founded. This was a community of around 150 early bloggers that wrote the first chapter of Korea’s blog history. As was the case in the United States, it was not until services emerged that catered to the interests of bloggers that the phenomenon began to gain steam. For example, CyWorld, a social networking site founded in 1999, launched a “minihomepage” service in 2001. This was a free service that allowed users to post messages and share photos, with an option to buy extras, such as background images and outfits for their avatars, to personalize their online presence. This service began to really take off in the fall of 2002.

In 2003, the founding of AbleClick, the first professional blogging service in Korea, marked the start of the portal-blog era and the blog’s entry into the Korean mainstream. In response to this new trend, commercial Internet portal sites, such as Daum, Nate, Naver, and Yahoo Korea, launched their own competing blogging services. The portal blogging services introduced the regular Korean Internet user to blogging and have since maintained a strong presence in Korea’s “blogosphere.” Blogging has since taken root as an integral aspect of Korean 80 Koreana | Winter 2009

For Korea’s Internet-savvy users, blogs serve as a kind of online community center for like-minded individuals. Of note, this phenomenon has led to the emergence of “power bloggers,” who can earn fame and fortune through their personal blogs.

In 2007, Korea Internet & Security Agency released a report that stated, among the Internet users in Korea, some 56.8 percent read blogs regularly, and 42.9 percent maintained their own blogs. Along with its widespread popularity, blogging has also led to the emergence of the so-called “power blogger.”

Charles La Shure Professor, Graduate School of Interpretation and Translation, Hankuk University of Foreign Studies Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Internet culture, as evidenced by “power bloggers,” who have attained varying measures of fame and fortune through their focused blogs, as well as the multitude of Internet users for whom blogging is simply another part of everyday life.

Korea’s Blogosphere The blog is now a firmly established element of Korean culture.

When the public relations firm Edelman released its “Corporate Guide to the Global Blogosphere” in 2007, they ranked Korea second, behind only Japan, in terms of percentage of the entire population that read blogs regularly, at 43 percent. Similarly, the Korea Internet & Security Agency released a report that stated that among the Internet users in Korea, some 56.8 percent read blogs regularly, and 42.9 percent maintained their own blogs.

Along with its widespread popularity, blogging has also led to the emergence of the so-called “power blogger.” In general, a power blogger will focus on a specific field, such as cooking, film reviews, or even blogs themselves, and build up a loyal and large following through frequent posts of high-quality content. Many of them are able to turn blogging into a full-time career, earning income by attracting ad sponsors to their blog site or publishing books culled from the blog’s original content.

Mun Seongsil is a mother of twin sons who operates a number of cooking websites. Her posts feature tasty recipes supplemented by vivid, step-by-step photos. She has published four books thus far based on the recipes on her websites. Meanwhile, Yi Jiseon oversees the metablog known as BlogKorea. Metablogs are, as the name suggests, blogs about blogs, or websites that identify the best of the blogosphere and present it to readers in a convenient way. Appropriately enough, she has published a how-to book about blogs: Building a Blog: From Computer Illiterate to Power Blogger. Choe Munjeong is another power blogger who has since entered the publishing industry. She is rather unique in that she does not specialize in a particular area, such as cooking or blogs, but simply in telling stories about her experiences. Her storytelling style is so popular that her blog recorded its one-millionth visitor only two years after its launch, and since then she has founded her own publication business that has published two collections of her stories.

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Looking for a recipe for a Korean side dish for the dinner table? Want to find out what the man on the street thought about the latest hit film? Or maybe you are interested in taking up a sport, such as swimming or cycling. Chances are that someone in the blogosphere shares your interests and has written something about the target of your search. For Koreans, blogs are a treasure trove of information.

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1 Housewives adept with the Internet culture are known to search for new recipes or variations to add diversity to the dinner table.

2~3 C yberspace blogs are a gathering place for people with common interests to acquire various information, such as hobbyists who enjoy flower arranging or dried-flower crafts.

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Traditionally, the barriers to entry into fields such as publishing or journalism can be fairly high, and members of these areas tend to work their way slowly up the ladder. Blogging has lowered most of these entry barriers, and power bloggers have shown that anyone can succeed if they have sufficient talent, are enthusiastic about their chosen field and willing to invest the time and energy necessary. Whatever the entry barriers that need to be overcome, power bloggers such as Choe Munjeong have shown an ability to succeed by taking matters into their own hands. Their influence and motivation are such that they can sidestep traditional media outlets, cutting out the middleman and connecting directly to their loyal readership and new readers as well.

Of course, not everyone can be a successful power blogger, and the vast majority of the Korean blogosphere consists of littleknown bloggers. Some aspire to become power bloggers, but most are content to simply set up their own roadside stand along the information highway. Some have CyWorld mini-homepages where they share photos with friends and family, while others have blogs on one of the several portal-based services, where they share their thoughts on life and a variety of subjects.

The image of a lonely blogger carving out a corner of the blogosphere and producing content for a handful of friends and family is a common one in the West, particularly in the United States. The situation in Korea, though, is somewhat different.

Whereas dedicated blogging services such as Blogger, LiveJournal, and TypePad are the norm in the United States, the majority of blogs in Korea use portal-based services. Even the newer dedicated blogging services, Tistory and Egloos, are owned by Internet portal companies or their parent companies (the former is owned

by Daum and the latter is owned by SK Communications, which also operates Nate and CyWorld).

For bloggers in Korea, this situation provides a ready-made community at their fingertips, making it much more likely that their content will be seen by viewers outside their small circle of

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friends. At any of the portal main pages you will find links to popular blog posts on the latest issues. Some portals make an extra effort to highlight good blogs. Naver, for example hands out yearly “power blog” awards in fields ranging from culture and entertainment to interior design and lifestyle.

Of course, the blogosphere would be little more than an elaborate echo chamber if the only readers were the bloggers themselves. Yet, even Koreans who do not have their own blogs will regularly read various blogs. The process starts with the home page of a typical portal site, such as Naver or Yahoo Korea. Enter a term or subject area into the search engine and up pop the results, which are grouped under categories, such as news items, general websites, blogs, and sponsored links.

Of particular note, after the paid and sponsored links, and any special features, the first category is generally “blogs.” Looking for a recipe for a Korean side dish for the dinner table? Want to find out what the man on the street thought about the latest hit film? Or maybe you are interested in taking up a sport, such as swimming or cycling. Chances are that someone in the blogosphere shares your interests and has written something about the target of your search. For Koreans, blogs are a treasure trove of information.

However, this attitude toward blogs is not universal. For example, in the United States, as the number of blogs increased, people worried about blogs clogging up search results. One university student even complained that blogs “masquerade as useful information when all they contain is idle chatter,” and “when a major political or social event happens, Google is noised to the brim with blogs and you have to start at result number 40 or so after passing over the blogs.” Shortly after Google acquired Blogger in 2003, this problem was addressed by creating a separate “blog search” page and removing the majority of blogs from the main search results. Compare this with Korea, where many readers favor the opinions of “citizen journalists,” on the latest news Winter 2009 | Koreana 83

Publishers will often encourage authors to maintain blogs in order to generate reader interest and boost book sales. Meanwhile, certain power bloggers have become so popular among followers that they have launched their own publishing business.

and events. It could be said that, even more so than elsewhere, the Korean blogosphere represents a true online democracy, where everyone is equally regarded and all voices have the same chance of being heard. Blogs have become as much a part of everyday life for tech-savvy Koreans as any other aspect of their information society.

Where Are We Headed?

Although the proliferation of portal-based blogs in Korea does help foster a sense of community and make blog content easier to access, this state of affairs is not without its drawbacks. Yi Gangseok, an IT consultant, self-proclaimed early adapter, and winner of AllBlog’s 2008 awards for Best New Blog and Best Science & Technology Blog, describes the limitations of a portal-based blogosphere: “Since portals have a very clear stance on corporate whistle blowers, consumer critiques of products, and political criticism, any inclinations users of these portal blogging services may have toward ‘citizen journalism’ are weakened.” He predicts that this conflict of interest between bloggers and the portal sites will continue, while suggesting that portals have the upper hand: 84 Koreana | Winter 2009

“There is a good possibility that this conflict with bloggers will lead portals to define blogs as nothing more, and nothing less, than content producers.”

The future direction of blogs is difficult to predict. Still, there is no doubt that portal sites will continue to play an important role in Korea’s blogosphere, and if history has shown us anything, it is that the hopes and desires of the general public cannot be stifled forever. Korean history shows us many examples of ordinary citizens who have stood up for what they believe in. So, if enough bloggers feel strongly enough, we could see an evolution of the blogosphere as well. It may be something as simple as independent blogging services springing up to compete with the portal sites, or more bloggers might host blogs on their own domains.

Regardless of how the blogosphere may develop, one thing is certain: blogs have become an integral aspect of the Korean lifestyle. Just as people have long written journals to record their thoughts and letters to share experiences with friends and family, blogs are now a means for Koreans young and old to share pieces of themselves with others. They share as individuals, but in doing so they affirm that they are part of the Korean nation, and the tribe of humanity as a whole. Just as the blogs of today might look a little different from those of ten years ago, so might the blogs of ten years from now look different. Yet the common thread that binds all of these together, the need to share ourselves with the world and thus become part of that world, remains unbroken. In this way, blogs will continue to play a fundamental role in the lives of Koreans for years to come.

J o u r n e y s i n K o r e a n L i t e r a ture

Yi Mun-yol

From the time of his literary debut in 1977, Yi Mun-yol has used various narrative forms to write about a wide range of themes, such as the existential angst of individuals, religion and art, the division of Korea, and ideological conflict. He is a prolific writer with numerous bestsellers to his credit, including The Son of Man, Portrait of Youthful Days, Frontier

Between Two Empires, Hail to the Emperor! and others. “An Anonymous Island� (1982) short story epitomizes his characteristic style of developing a story around a predetermined conception.

CRITIQUE

The Consummate Storyteller

Yi Mun-yol Jung Hong-su Literary Critic

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s the modern novel emerged as a narrative mode that suited the tastes of readers of a modern capitalist society, the role of storytelling has inevitably been diminished in the realm of literature. However, there is no denying that the instinctive urge of people to tell and listen to stories has functioned as a driving force behind the further development of the modern novel.

The novelist Yi Mun-yol has been a central figure of Korea’s 20th-century literature. In order to understand his impressive stature in the literary scene as well as the avid enthusiasm of his readers, it would be helpful to approach his work from various perspectives. Without a doubt, the writer’s exceptional storytelling skills form the foundation of his literary success, while the charm and impact of his novels can be explained by other factors. Along with his extensive reading and wealth of knowledge, his inclination toward cultural refinement and his encyclopedic memory have enabled Lee to excavate splendidly variegated themes from every nook and cranny of human affairs.

His flowing sentences and sophisticated style create a powerful impact as a result of his innate talent and mastery of Eastern as well as Western classics. Yi’s novels are also characterized by his romantic awareness of the world, rooted in his “longing for something far away,” or his nostalgic, and somewhat regressive, pursuit of an incarnation of Oriental sentiments. In addition, due to the fact that his father had fled to North Korea, Yi has struggled to understand and overcome his family history. Amid this struggle, he has formed his own ideology that is critical of the violence and meaninglessness of ideological conflict, and has consistently dealt with this matter in his novels, confronting one of the most contentious subjects in Korea’s modern literature, along with the division of the country.

Literary critics point out that Yi’s originality results primarily from his consummate storytelling talent. But this is not to say that he is insensitive to the particular status and potential of the modern novel, which is different from the premodern modes of storytelling, such as epic poems and romances. As in Hail to the Emperor!, one of his seminal novels, the anachronism he creates in his works is mainly intentional. Moreover, through his exquisite storytelling, he makes known his criticism of the direction in which the modern novel is headed.

Especially noteworthy is that the brilliance of Yi’s storytelling is closely linked to another of his distinctive characteristics: his ability to weave a story with a predetermined conception at its center. The motley collection of themes that he has addressed in his novels does not necessarily reflect reality, while he tends to maintain a firm personal opinion about these subjects. Accordingly, his narratives seem to develop less as an exploration of reality, than as a sophisticated literary rhetoric to support and verify his perspective. Often, this elegant rhetoric is endowed in content and style by his renowned wealth of knowledge and cultural refinement, as well as his fluid and eloquent structure. The key feature of Yi’s creative methodology is the influence that “predetermined concep-

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tions” wield over the narratives to produce his stories. This characteristic style is well reflected in “The Island of Anonymity.” Set in a secluded clan village deep in the mountains of Gyeongsangnam-do Province, this story is a kind of anthropological case study about how women in the village deal with their repressed sexual desire. During the course of the story, the author adeptly broadens a theme of anonymity, which is commonly thought of as an inherent quality of modern urban life, into a universal issue relevant to all humankind.

The story starts with a scene in which the protagonist, a middle-aged woman, watches TV with her husband. He deplores the cases of sexual depravity and moral degradation reported on TV, for which he blames the anonymous nature of modern society. Her husband’s moralizing remarks take the woman back to the time when she had just graduated from college and was assigned to teach at an elementary school in a remote mountainous village. What she experienced there proved that, contrary to her husband’s presumptive attitude, even a secluded clan village, where every member is related by blood, is not necessarily free from the deviant behavior associated with anonymity.

The memorable experience is neatly arranged in her recollection to produce a specific conclusion, of which every element, from the beginning to the end, is integrated. On the day the young teacher arrives at the bus station of the small mountain village, she comes across a strange man with dreamy eyes, which seem to have a flicker of madness. Questions that arose in her mind about this strange man and the villagers are answered, one by one, through close observation, logical reasoning, and conversations with her colleague. The subplots and episodes that the author includes in the story are so smooth and natural that everything seems to fit together perfectly.

The flowing narratives of “An Anonymous Island” can be attributed to the fact that the story has been composed deductively based on a predetermined conclusion. So, it is not surprising to find out at the end that the curious man with strange eyes is a common lover of the village women. The man relieves these women of their repressed sexual desire, with the implicit consent of the male villagers, including the husbands of the women. The “shocking” confession, that the protagonist also unexpectedly joined this openly secret sexual arrangement, serves as an elaborate rationale that the author has prepared to further attenuate the narrative. Here, again we can see the author’s creative methodology that places a predetermined conception ahead of other components of a storyline.

In order for a society to sustain itself, it may be necessary to control desire that exceeds reasonable levels. Therefore, the role of a man, like the one in this story, might reflect a kind of anthropological universality as well as an existential validity as an outlet to relieve the tension rooted in repressed desire.

Furthermore, the existence of this man is an allegory for the behind-the-scenes aspects of human society.

Although this anthropological insight may not have been the author’s original idea, his outstanding storytelling ability, in which he weaves an enchanting story around this phenomenon, is reason enough to confirm Yi Mun-yol’s unique aura.

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