Koreana Summer 2016 (English)

summer 2016

Korean culture & arts specIal feature

Islands of sInan

Dialogue with Pristine Nature Sinan’s Natural Riches and Beauty: A Legacy for the Future; Intrigue of the ‘Black Mountain’; Salt Fields Preserve the Time-honored Values of Island Culture

Islands of Sinan

vol. 30 no. 2

ISSN 1016-0744

IMAGE OF KOREA

Lifestyle Laboratory that Never Sleeps Kim Hwa-young Literary Critic; Member of the National Academy of Arts

T

he historic center of Seoul is the area constituting the old capital of the Joseon Dynasty, which ruled Korea for over five hundred years. Dongdaemun was the main east gate on the old city wall, and since the late 14th century it has seen ceaseless traffic of people and goods pass through. People, goods, and roads converged at this spot, and then flowed out to the rest of the country.

From the end of the 19th century, Dongdaemun was the terminus for the tram lines that crisscrossed the city of Seoul for several decades. Dongdaemun Market was established nearby and grew into one of the city’s largest traditional markets, along with Namdaemun Market at the south gate. Then, at the end of the 20th century, a huge fashion complex emerged around the present Dongdaemun History and Culture Park subway station. Clothes, shoes, hats, fabrics, and accessories abound in stores deep underground, at street level, and in high-rise buildings, drawing throngs of shoppers day and night, and enticing passersby.

In 1925, Dongdaemun Stadium was built right beside the city gate as Korea’s first Western-style sports arena. For the next 80 years, athletes ran about the stadium and the cheers and shouts of crowds of spectators resounded from the stands.

In this way, over hundreds of years the eastern district of downtown Seoul has undergone one major urban project after another — the city wall and gate, the markets, roads, a sports stadium, and subway station — continuously evolving as the pulsating heart of the city’s ecosystem.

In 2007, as a consequence of expansion of the capital, Dongdaemun Stadium was demolished and in 2014, Dongdaemun Design Plaza, or DDP, opened in its place.

Today a Seoul city landmark, this futuristic structure rose on a site where archaeological traces of the old city remain underground. Surrounded by high-rise buildings that house countless fashion outlets, this ancient part of town has become a favorite haunt of the young. This iconic work of architecture, featuring asymmetrical curves and planes, vividly demonstrates the creativity of its Iraqi-born architect Zaha Hadid.

By joining cultural symbols of East and West, she has created a stunning new urban landscape.

DDP sees pedestrian traffic of more than one million people a day. Inside the belly of this great whale where spaces flow outside and inside, above and below, like a fluid labyrinth of water and wind, all varieties of lifestyles unfold and are tested twenty-four hours a day. To what kind of future is all this freedom, communication, interaction, and encounter leading?

puBlIsHer edItorIal dIrector edItor-In-cHIef edItorIal Board

Editor’s Letter

Invitation to the Islands of sinan Some people call them the “shards of memory of the continent submerged under the sea long ago.” The islands of Sinan County dot the seas off the rugged southwestern coast of Korea. Gageodo, the island farthest from the mainland, is located 140 kilometers away from the harbor of Mokpo, marking the southwestern point of the nation’s territory. A total of 1,004 islands (or some say 1,025) are scattered in between, of which 72 are inhabited. As of December 2015, these islands are home to 43,294 residents.

It has not been long since this southern region emerged as an ecological treasure trove and popular tourist destination. Several global recognitions, such as the UNESCO Biosphere Reserve, the Ramsar Wetlands of International Importance, and Asia’s first Slow City, have contributed to the popular appeal of Sinan islands.

For example, Jeungdo, which has Korea’s largest solar salt farm, welcomes a million visitors a year these days.

In large part, the clean and scenic environment of Sinan is due to the sociopolitical factors which put it on the back burner at the time of Korea’s rapid industrialization and economic development during the latter decades of the 20th century. Further back, the region had lost its former vigor as a strategic point for maritime exchange between East Asian neighbors, and became a key route for colonial exploitation. The islands were also subject to evacuation and some of them were used as places of exile.

Nonetheless, or ironically even more so because of the lingering residue of its gloomy past, Sinan today is a charming place to visit. Whether looking around the craggy rock cliffs adorning the coastlines, engaging in casual conversation with a fish vendor, or relaxing at one of its 500 beaches or on a salt sauna bed, a visit is certain to be a rewarding and memorable experience. This issue’s special feature, “Islands of Sinan: Dialogue with Pristine Nature,” offers a glimpse of what these islands have to offer and what their residents value and are trying to hand down to future generations. lee Kyong-hee Editor-in-Chief

Korean culture & arts summer 2016

copY edItor assocIate edItor assIstant edItors creatIVe dIrector edItors art dIrector desIGners

Lee Si-hyung Yoon Keum-jin Lee Kyong-hee Bae Bien-u Charles La Shure Choi Young-in Han Kyung-koo Kim Hwa-young Kim Young-na Koh Mi-seok Song Hye-jin Song Young-man Werner Sasse Dean Jiro Aoki Lim Sun-kun Teresita M. Reed Cho Yoon-jung Kim Sam Noh Yoon-young, Park Sin-hye Lee Young-bok Kim Ji-hyun, Kim Nam-hyung, Yeob Lan-kyeong

laYout & desIGn

Kim’s Communication Associates 44 Yanghwa-ro 7-gil, Mapo-gu Seoul 04035, Korea www.gegd.co.kr Tel: 82-2-335-4741 Fax: 82-2-335-4743

translators

Chung Myung-je Hwang Sun-ae Min Eun-young Park Hyun-ah Suh Jung-ah

Price per issue in Korea 6,000 won Elsewhere US$9 Please refer to page 104 of Koreana for specific subscription rates. 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 West Tower 19F Mirae Asset CENTER1 Bldg.

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“Returning Home” Chung Young-nam 2008. Mixed material on rice paper, 70 x 70 cm.

A boat sails toward home at sunset. The artist made a sketch of this scene from Mt. Seonwang on Bigeumdo, one of the islands of Sinan County, South Jeolla Province.

Published quarterly by the Korea foundation 2558 Nambusunhwan-ro, Seocho-gu Seoul 06750, Korea http://www.koreana.or.kr

© The Korea Foundation 2016 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, August 8, 1987), is also published in Arabic, Chinese, French, German, Indonesian, Japanese, Russian and Spanish.

36

Focus

54

Human vs. Machine in the Game of Go Cho Hwan-gue

40

IntervIew

11

Director Lee Joon-ik: A Passion for History Expounded Through Film Darcy Paquet

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44

art revIew

Korean-Russian Artist Byun Wol-ryong Finds his Place in Korean Contemporary Art

“Court Paintings from the Joseon Dynasty” elegant presentation of Joseon court paintings

Mok Soo-hyun

GuarDIan oF HerItaGe

76

BooKs & more

50

Yun Gyeong-nam Keeps 300-YearOld Family Recipe for Soy Sauce Chung Jae-suk

“My Korea: Musings with a Camera and Pen” an Intimate Guide to life in Korea

http://www.nrich.go.kr/english new/ Gold mine of data about Korea’s cultural Heritage Charles La Shure, Kim Hoo-ran

tales oF two Koreas

SpEcIAl FEAtuRE

Islands of sinan: Dialogue with Pristine nature sPecIal Feature 1

04

Sinan’s Natural Riches and Beauty: A Legacy for the Future

Building Knowledge Base for a ‘Miracle on the Taedong River’

12

Moon Kyong-o

sPecIal Feature 2

Cho Sung-sik

In love wItH Korea

Intrigue of the ‘Black Mountain’

Irina Korgun: Russian Economist and Lover of Korean Folk Painting Kim Hyun-sook

on tHe roaD

64

Mokpo, Where Life Becomes Your Muse

an orDInarY DaY

20

80

essentIal InGreDIents

Mu , Vegetable for All Seasons Kim Jin-young

84

lIFestYle

Jeonse : Boon or Bane for Korea’s Housing Market?

Kim Bang-hee

72

Art Teacher Kim Won-gyo: A Life Simple Yet Intense

Lee Chang-guy

sPecIal Feature 3

60

Gwak Jae-gu

14

78

entertaInment

Reality TV Latches onto Music Talent Shows

Kim Hak-soon

Lee Heon-jong

Unique Diversity of ‘Island-type’ Tidal Flats

56

88

journeYs In Korean lIterature

Carnivalesque Approach to Gravity and Triviality Choi Jae-bong

Kim Seo-ryung

Everyone Loves Girls’ Generation

Salt Fields Preserve the Timehonored Values of Island Culture

Lee Young-hoon

Kim Young-ock

sPecIal Feature 4

28

Memories of Bigeumdo Hwang Hieon-san

sPecIal Feature 5

A Treasure Ship Nestled in Muddy Seabed for 650 Years Lee Kwang-pyo

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46

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SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 1 Islands of Sinan: Dialogue with Pristine Nature

SINAN’S NATURAL RICHES AND BEAUTY

A lEGAcy FOR tHE FutuRE A thousand islands, a thousand colors. the islands of Sinan county, South Jeolla province, dotting the waters off the southwestern tip of Korea, make up a protected ecosystem rich in marine resources and endowed with incomparable scenery. Indigenous knowledge accumulated over the thousands of years of humankind’s coexistence with nature on these islands is a gift of immeasurable value to the future of Korea and the world.

4 KOREANA summer 2016

lee Heon-jong Professor of Archaeology Mokpo National University Bae Bien-u Photographer

Grassland spreads on top of the cliffs, some 100 meters high, on Seomdeung Peninsula on the island of Gageodo. Walk along the ridge to the end and you'll find yourself at the most southwestern point of Korea.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 5

F

or people who visit an island, every moment and every mile approaching the destination quickens with delicious anticipation of the exotic scenery, the wide open vistas of sky, land, and sea, and justifiable suspension of worldly concerns for a while. Island travel is a journey away from the humdrum of daily life tied down to the tyranny of the clock — from continuous time into non-continuous time — a return, as it were, into the nurturing womb of nature.

A visit to Sinan is such a journey, from the mainland to one island, and then another. Taking a boat out to the islands is like immersing in the warm waters and indigenous stories of their origins and the lives of the islands’ denizens.

the coastal Islands Among the numerous islands of the Sinan archipelago, Jido is most closely connected with the mainland. From here, Jeungdo and Saokdo are also connected by bridges, which means that these three islands at least can be reached without catching a boat. The diverse saltwater plants (halophytes) growing in the tidal flats of Jeungdo, designated a Ramsar site of international importance under the Convention on Wetlands, change from one brilliant color to another with the changing of the seasons. The shipwrecked 14th-century Chinese cargo vessel, well preserved in the muddy seabed in the shallow seas of Sinan to be recovered centuries later, is proof that this area has been along a strategic maritime route where trading ships have passed through since ancient times. Taepyung Salt Farm in Jeungdo, established on land reclaimed from the mudflats, and the stone salt warehouse that now serves as the Salt Museum, have been designated as Modern Cultural Heritages. The historical value of these sites is enriched with the stories of the salt workers abounding with their joys and sorrows.

Just 30 minutes by boat from Jeomam wharf at the western end of Jido is the Jin-ri wharf on Imjado, the northernmost island of Sinan County. The white sands of Daegwang Beach, 300 meters wide, stretch over 12 kilometers along the island’s coastline and can be covered in a leisurely walk of three or four hours. It is because of this beach, the biggest in Korea, that Imjado is nicknamed Moraeseom, which means “sandy island.” From this beach, the tidal flats pulsing with life spread out seaward. Tiny crabs and myriad other forms of marine life squirm and burrow in the mud all night, forming small balls of sand and drawing pictures on the golden shore. Carelessly, the sea comes rushing in, erasing the pictures and rushing out again. But the little artists have no time to rest. They continue their work, and without fail the golden sand is covered with new pictures the next day.

In April each year, an exotic spectacle unfolds along Daegwang Beach. Here the nation’s biggest tulip festival takes place with three million blossoms covering a park area of 120,000 square meters. The park, where 68,000 square meters is devoted to tulips and 52,000 square meters to pine trees, is a creative example of how natural resources can be utilized. The local government sup-

6 KOREANA summer 2016

ported the suggestion by horticulture researchers at Mokpo National University, who said that tulips would flourish in Imjado’s rich sandy soil, abundant sunlight, and ample sea breezes. While the island is famed for its harmony of natural and manmade resources, and as a place where visitors can get away from the world for a while, few know that this park is a human creation.

About half the island was originally underwater, but over a long period of time the local residents reclaimed land from the sea by building dikes to block off the seawater, and were eventually able to join six adjacent islands into one land mass. This island is scheduled to be connected to Jido by a bridge in 2020.

The salted shrimp of Jeonjangpo, in the northern part of the island, is recognized as the finest in Korea in taste and quality. The shrimp are caught around the sixth lunar month when they are at their plumpest, and packed in salt right on the boat. Crocks filled with salted shrimp are then stored in caves at the foot of a mountain behind the wharf-side village and left to slowly mature over a long time, as has been done by countless generations on this island. Flavored with local knowledge, which provides experienced and intuitive guidance, the salted shrimp produced here, known as “Jeonjangpo saeu-jeot,” well lives up to its reputation. These kinds of slow food and distinctive regional specialties come from traditions handed down through the generations.

Diamond cluster: paradise for Migratory Birds The islands in the central part of the Sinan archipelago form a diamond shape and are therefore called the “diamond cluster.” Some of the best-known islands of Sinan can be found here. This includes Bigeumdo, in the left-hand corner of the diamond, that is now noted as the hometown of go grandmaster Lee Se-dol, who recently played a series of historic matches against AlphaGo, an artificial intelligence computer system.

Some 10 kilometers southwest of Bigeumdo lies Chilbaldo, an island with a lighthouse known as a popular stopover for migratory birds. Early in the morning, the island is shrouded in mist and seems to be floating in the air. It must be navigated with extra caution so as

1

2

1 Looking over the water in the direction of Mokpo from the top of Sangsan Peak on Uido, the Sinan archipelago with its myriad islands forms a grand spectacle.

2 At the top of hilly Jangdo is a rare mountain wetland complex that is included in the Ramsar List of Wetlands of International Importance.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 7

To the southwest of Dochodo is Uido, looking like a mound of rocks of varying sizes piled on top of each other. This island is famed for Mt. Dori, covered in silver magnolia and camellia trees, and the sandy beaches and steep golden sand dunes that create a seaside desert scene.

The sand dunes of Donmok Village on Uido present a different appearance every day according to the whims of the wind and rain.

There is a saying that the women of Donmok must swallow several gallons of sand before they get married.

to not run into the steep rocky cliffs. Designated a Natural Monument, this uninhabited island is a habitat for such migratory birds as the storm petrel, streaked shearwater, and fork-tailed swift, which visit here in winter to breed. It is particularly important as a habitat for 80 percent of the world’s storm petrel population. A key point along the East Asian–Australasian Flyway, which connects Siberia to Southeast Asia, it is also a valuable site for protection of a diversity of bird species. The nearby islands of Hongdo and Heuksando are also regular stopovers for the many migratory birds that fly through Korea, and every year some 300,000 birds of 271 species can be observed in the Sinan area.

The birds are attracted to the islands’ tidal flats. The tidal flats of Korea are considered to be among the most important in the world, along with those of the Wadden Sea of the Netherlands, Germany and Denmark, the Georgia coast of the United States, the mouth of the Amazon River in Brazil, and the eastern shores of Canada. The county of Sinan, with its more than 1,000 islands, has the largest area of tidal flats in Korea. The high tides and low tides that occur twice a day create a fantastic panorama of islands sitting atop the tidal flats at every low tide, with tidal flats, tidal channels, and tidal waterways linked together in intricate networks. The tidal flats that stretch out expansively over the diamond cluster form a rich and complex ecosystem of mudflats, sand dunes, and islands, where a diverse variety of marine creatures provide food for the migratory birds.

To the southwest of Dochodo is Uido, looking like a mound of rocks of varying sizes piled on top of each other. This island is famed for Mt. Dori, covered in silver magnolia and camellia trees, and the sandy beaches and steep golden sand dunes that create a seaside desert scene. Because of the significant decrease in the amount of sand in recent years, public access to the dunes is prohibited until 2020. Rocky hills sit on one side of the island, where on rainy days myriad waterfalls are formed, if only briefly. The island is especially pleasant for walking; it is about four kilometers from the western end to the eastern end. The peacefulness and friendliness of the island is palpable in the winding lanes, running from one village to the next, and the time-worn stone walls blackened with moss.

In 2018, the New Millennium Bridge is slated to open to link Aphaedo, the seat of Sinan County office which is already connected to the mainland, with Amtaedo on the upper side of the diamond cluster. Linking the islands of the 8 KOREANA summer 2016

Imjado

Sinan county seoul

saokdo 350km

seondo

Jeungdo Byeongpungdo

Mokpo

Goido

Maehwado

Jaeundo

Aphaedo Amtaedo Palgeumdo

Bigeumdo

Anjwado

Hongdo Heuksando

Dochodo Uido

Jangsando sangtaedo

Gageodo Gasado

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 9

diamond cluster with the mainland will fulfill the residents’ long-held desire for greater convenience in their daily lives and easier access to cultural amenities. But, at the same time, development will bring about new problems since the distinctive characteristics of an island are best protected by the surrounding seas.

the Islands of the Open Sea When the boat that departed from Mokpo Ferry Terminal passes by Bigeumdo and Dochodo, leaving behind the little islands scattered about, the wide open ocean spreads out as far as the eye can see. Passengers making the trip for the first time might be overcome with unease when leaving behind the islands that serve as a buffer against the relentless waves. But the high-speed ferry silently glides along the same time-tested route that maritime travelers have used to get around the archipelago.

The wide open seas are home to Heuksando, Hongdo, Gageodo, Damuldo, Jangdo and Manjaedo, among other islands. These are known as the Heuksan group of islands. Hongdo, called the pearl of Sinan, presents ever-changing scenery, not only through the four seasons but even over the course of a single day. Gageodo is a mystical place where rain and strong winds and waves can leave you stranded in the midst of a primeval forest for days; Jangdo features unique inland mountain wetlands; and Yeongsando boasts the “eight beautiful sights,” which include a stone archway rising out of the sea.

Manjaedo is perhaps the least-known jewel of this island group with its pebble beach lining the village, offering picturesque views in all directions. It is so small that there are no facilities for large boats to dock. To reach the island, you must take the boat from Mokpo and transfer to a smaller boat out on the open sea as it passes Gageodo on the way back to Mokpo, and then sail on for another kilometer. If the gods do not permit it, as the locals say, Manjaedo cannot be reached. Here, from the top of the hill at the end of the road that follows along the stone walls, the islands scattered over the surrounding waters come into view. Below the bright white lighthouse, the stone pillars on the cliffs gleam through the ocean spray and twilight, creating a spectacle every morning and night. The pebbled shore is where the fishermen work, drying their seaweed and dividing up harvests. The island’s haenyeo, or women divers, gather seaweed from the rocks along the shore and harvest the ocean’s various bounties.

They know from experience that protection of the island’s environment and natural resources is the way to survive there.

Heuksando, though now mainly known for its skate fish, operated one of the three largest open-sea fish markets in Korea, along with Wido and Yeonpyeongdo. Open until the late 1970s, the markets featured different fish from month to month through the end of October. The yellow croaker markets opening from January to April and the whale markets from February to May were the pride of Heuksando. Records say that more than 500 boats would gather at these fish markets in the 1960s; indeed, this was the center of Korean fishermen’s “gold rush.” Archaeological evidence reveals that from the Unified Silla (676–935) to Goryeo (918–1392) periods, the island’s Eupdong Bay was a strategic point along the maritime trade route between China and Korea.

The Heuksan island group and uninhabited islands in the area are renowned for their thick groves of silver magnolia and camellia trees, the dominant species in Korea’s warm temperate zone where evergreen broad-leaved trees 10 KOREANA summer 2016

The rape flowers are in bloom on Anjwado, where the birthplace of Kim Whanki (1913–1974), a pioneer in Korean abstract art, is preserved.

thrive. Under the influence of global warming, this area has become a battleground for survival between the broad-leaf and conifer forests. These islands are oneof-a-kind nurseries where changes in the climate can be examined so that possible changes in the local flora can be forecast.

Key to Sustainability On board the boat to leave the islands, my head is aswirl with stories. I try to take a nap in the cabin, but as the tourists and the islanders sitting around in small groups keep talking, the bright faces of the island children appear before my eyes.

Sinan is home to boundless natural and cultural resources. The children born and educated on the islands must be raised to lead the region into the future. It is these children who will be best able to safeguard and manage the vast natural resources of this

island county and to introduce its cultural resources to the rest of the world. The designation of the entire county of Sinan as a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve at the 29th meeting of the International Coordinating Council of the Man and the Biosphere Programme, held in Lima, Peru, on March 19 this year, marks a solid foundation to move forward in this direction. Aphaedo, with its wealth of natural and cultural heritage dating back to the Paleolithic Age, is a historical attraction and administrative center of Sinan. A school must be established there to nurture future generations of specialists who can advance the islands’ science and culture in order to ensure a truly sustainable future.

In the far distance, the ferry terminal of Mokpo comes into view. Like a mother, Mt. Yudal seems to be spreading its arms out wide to welcome our arrival.

As the sun sets and darkness grows, the lights in the raw fish eateries lining the terminal are turned on, one after the other. Before the loudspeakers crackle to life to announce the ferry’s arrival, the crowd begins to bustle. The passengers disembark carrying their luggage, styrofoam boxes, and black plastic bags filled with the islands’ gifts. I get off the ferry, propelled forward by the crowd, already filled with anticipation of getting back on the boat again — back to the islands of Sinan.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 11

1

UNIQUE DIVERSITY OF ‘ISLAND-TYPE’ TIDAL FLATS Moon Kyong-o Secretary-General, World Heritage Promotion Team for the Korean Tidal Flats

T

idal flats are formed when sediment carried by ocean tides is deposited along shorelines, or when inland sediment is carried by rivers to coastal areas where they meet the sea. These wetlands are typically formed in bays or estuaries with irregular coastlines. The heavier sediment carried in by the waves is deposited along the outer edge of the coast, while lighter sediment is deposited in the interior areas. The tidal flats thus consist of sandy flats on the outer edge, mixed flats in the middle, and mud flats on the inner side.

land, Wind, and Rocks The tidal flats of the archipelago of Dadohae (Sea of Many Islands) in Sinan County, South Jeolla Province, are an exception to the general pattern of coastal tidal flats. The islands of the open seas 12 KOREANA summer 2016

protect the islands of the inner waters, and because of the topographic features of countless small islands surrounding one main island found in both the open and inner seas, various kinds of tidal flats are formed in accordance with the slope of the land and the shape of the coastlines, resulting in distinctive patterns of sedimentation. For example, under the influence of northwesterly winds, open-coast sandy flats are found in the northwestern part of the islands, mixed flats in the central northeastern and southwestern areas, and mud flats in the inner southeastern parts.

Moreover, depending on the location of the islands, the variously shaped tidal channels and waterways feature mixed sediment deposits on top of mud, and sand deposits on top of mixed sediment. The thickly deposited mud flats in the southeastern

part of these islands find few peers in the world. And contrary to the dictionary definition of tidal flats, Sinan’s tidal flats include hilly areas, which are described as “tidal mounds.”

The tidal flats of Sinan are also distinguished from others around the world by the seasonal changes that they regularly undergo. As the Korean Peninsula is affected by northwesterly winds in winter and typhoons in summer, the same tidal flats may be composed of different kinds of sediment in summer and winter. That is, the mixed flats of summer may give way to sandy flats in winter.

Lastly, Sinan has “rocky tidal flats,” few examples of which can be found elsewhere in the world. At most other tidal flats, sand dunes form on flat areas along the coast.

But the islands of Sinan are rocky, having

2

the rocky islands of Sinan are bodies of land but at the same time are also part of the sea. the “island-type” tidal flats that shape the unusual topography of this region have been crafted by nature, through the daily incoming and outgoing of the tides.

been formed of mountainous terrain that emerged from the seas when the water levels rose with the end of the Ice Age, which has led to the formation of tidal flats that abut the rocky outcroppings.

protection of Biodiversity, lifestyle, and culture The geological diversity of the islands is the basis for the rich diversity of living things on the archipelago. The complex network of tidal channels and waterways function as capillaries that transfer oxygen and infuse the tidal flats with nutrients; their wondrous beauty is an added bonus.

The thick oxidized layer provides optimal conditions for benthos, the organisms that live near the bottom. A simple count of macro-benthos confirms the incredible biodiversity of the Sinan flats. Whereas the

3 1 The tidal flats on the islands of Sinan are formed through a unique sedimentary system, rarely seen elsewhere in the world, thanks to the action of the geometric network of tidal channels and waterways.

2 The tidal flats of the Dadohae (Sea of Many Islands) archipelago are a rich source of biodiversity.

3 Mounds are formed by the thick layers of mud in the tidal flats.

tidal flats of the Wadden Sea, covering an area of 14,000 square kilometers over the Netherlands, Germany, and Denmark, is a habitat for some 160 species, the Sinan

flats, a mere 400 square kilometers in area (2.8 percent the size of the former), is home to more than 600 species.

Biodiversity contributes to cultural diversity. With human activity coexisting with nature on the islands for thousands of years, it is now our responsibility to pass on this living culture of the tidal flats. Indeed, the county of Sinan has made concerted efforts to protect and manage the biodiversity of its tidal flats. As a result, part of the Dadohae archipelago (573.1km²) was added to UNESCO’s World Network of Biosphere Reserves in May 2009. And this designation was expanded to include all of Dadohae (3,238.7km²) in March this year. Now, the local and central governments are working toward inscription of the southwestern coast’s tidal flats on the UNESCO World Heritage List.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 13

SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 2 Islands of Sinan: Dialogue with Pristine Nature

INTRIGUE OF THE

‘BlAcK MOuntAIn’

lee chang-guy Poet and Literary Critic Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Heuksando has been infamous among Koreans as an island where “wrongdoers” lived in exile. However, located at the southwestern tip of Korea, the island has long been an important hub for international maritime transportation in northeast Asia.

14 KOREANA summer 2016

Sa-ri Village has a cozy port formed by a chain of small rocky islets, called Seven Brothers Rocks, serving as a natural breakwater. With this place as his laboratory, Jeong yak-jeon wrote the “Record on the Fish Species of Heuksan” (Hyeonsan eobo ).

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 15

O

n June 15, 1997, a simple bamboo raft named the East Asian Mediterranean left the shores of Zhejiang Province in southern China. Planned and conducted by a team of Korean and Chinese oceanographers, led by Professor Yoon Myung-chul of Dongguk University in Seoul, the expedition sought to simulate the “drift voyaging,” presumably used by ancient people. Upon its departure, the raft drifted northeast, riding on the currents and southwesterly winds. It ran into a typhoon in the open seas, but eventually reached Heuksando after 17 days.

A Stopover for Winds and tides The expedition helped shatter two preconceptions. First, it demonstrated that contact between the Asian continent and the peninsulas was possible using the sea’s natural conditions without the aid of modern technology, thereby eliminating doubts about the ability of ancient people to cross the seas without mechanical aid or proper navigation skills. Second, it overturned the previous continent-centered notion that exchange between the continent and the peninsulas has mainly been carried out along safer overland routes than the more hazardous ocean-going ones. The expedition eventually helped to reinforce the belief that the Dongyi, the forebears of Koreans, were an oceanic people who conducted trade with China, Japan, and countries farther south, and at times engaged in naval battles in the so-called East Asian Mediterranean, the sea partially enclosed by the Asian continent and a series of peninsulas.

Another expedition followed. The raft’s course closely corresponded with the Southern Sea Route, one of the ancient KoreaChina routes that facilitated trade between the Goryeo Dynasty and Song China in the 10th through 14th centuries. A branch of the Kuroshio Current, which originates off the east coast of the Philippines, flows northward to Jeju Island via Taiwan and then diverges. One of the subbranches flows north along the west coast of the Korean Peninsula, then skirts by the Liaodong and Shandong peninsulas before heading southward and turning northeast again near Hangzhou Bay to return to the Korean Peninsula. By taking advantage of this current and the seasonal winds — southwesterly from late spring to early summer and northeasterly in October and November — ancient people embarked on sea voyages to and from the continent for fishing and trade.

In the “History of Song” (Songshi ), a passage from a chapter on Goryeo (Gaoli zhuan ) reads: “Departing Dinghai in Mingzhou, we sailed for 16 KOREANA summer 2016

three days riding the wind, and then arrived at Heuksan five days later, where we entered Goryeo. From Heuksan, we sailed through a succession of islands big and small and myriad rocks before picking up speed and arrived at the Yeseong River seven days later.”

Called Ningbo today, Mingzhou was an ancient Chinese city at the mouth of the Yangtze River, overlooking the Zhoushan Islands.

Mingzhou became a new trading hub when Song, due to challenges by the Liao (Khitans) and Jin (Jurchens), began to lose its hegemony over East Asia, relocated its base of international trade further down the southeastern coast. Ennin (794–864), a Japanese Buddhist monk who embarked on a Silla merchant ship to return home after studying in Tang China, stopped off at Heuksando in the mid-9th cen1 Choe Ik-hyeon, a civil tury.

He wrote in his diary “Record of official of the late Joseon Dynasty who was bana Pilgrimage to China in Search of ished to Heuksando for his the Law” (Nitto guho junrei koki ) that objection to the 1876 Treaty there were 300 to 400 households on of Ganghwa with Japan, is commemorated for his the island. After the island became a patriotism and contribution stopover for vessels traveling along the to the education of local Southern Sea Route in the 10th centuyouths in a monument in Cheonchon-ri Village. The ry, its population grew significantly. rock behind the monument On the other hand, in his book “Ecohas an inscription, purportlogical Guide to Korea” (Taengniji ), edly carved by Choe, claiming that the Korean Empire written in 1751, the Joseon scholar was an independent state Yi Jung-hwan cited Yeongam, along with a great long history. the southwestern coast, as the port of 2 Sachon School, where Jeong Yak-jeon taught local departure for the Silla vessels that carchildren during his time in ried tribute to the Tang court. The book exile, has been recreated on the hillside in Sa-ri Village. also provides a detailed account of the seaway from Yeongam to Mingzhou: “From here, it takes one day by sea to 1 arrive at Heuksando, and then another day to Hongdo, and still another to Gageodo. With the help of the northeasterly winds, it takes three days from here to reach Dinghai of Ningbofu in Taizhou, China.” Choe Chi-won, the Silla scholar who earned fame as a writer in Tang China, used the same route when he went to China at the age of eleven. And it was along this course that Choe Bu, author of “A Record of Drifting across the Sea” (Pyohaerok ), written in 1488, drifted off toward Ming China, with 42 other passengers on board, after their boat had been pummeled by high winds and waves.

But in spite of its celebrated natural conditions and longstanding status as a hub of marine transportation, Heuk-

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In the early 19th century, a tangled web of tyranny in the form of “corruption in the three sources of national finance,” the arduous, persecuted lives of the islanders in the “tail section” of society, and their admiration and compassion for the upright scholar living among them in exile gave rise to the grim “myth of Black Mountain.”

sando in the minds of most Koreans is not a particularly affluent or attractive place.

Black Mountain and Black Sea The name “Heuksan” reminds many Koreans of a place of exile.

Xu Jing, an envoy dispatched from the Song Dynasty to Korea in the 12th century, wrote in his book “Illustrated Account of Goryeo” (Gaoli tujing ) that “Most of Goryeo’s serious offenders who have escaped the death penalty are banished to this place.” As such, the island must have long been a place for outcasts. During the Joseon Dynasty, however, Jejudo and Geojedo surpassed Heuksando in their number of exiles. Besides, as statistics show that one out of every four officials of the early Joseon era were banished at some time, accommodating a large number of persons in exile might not have been a cause for notoriety.

Anyway, it was Jeong Yak-jeon (1758–1816) who brought Heuksando to wider attention as he spent his years of exile on the island in the early 19th century.

The intelligent and talented brothers of the Jeong family — Yakjeon, Yak-jong, and Yak-yong — were once successful government

officials, much favored by King Jeongjo. Though Confucian scholars, they were open to Western knowledge and thought, and even took up Catholicism. Their plight started when the persecution of Catholics began in 1801, the year after the death of Jeongjo, who had tolerated the Western religion. Jeong Yak-jong was martyred while Jeong Yak-jeon and Jeong Yak-yong were sent into exile. During the 16 years until his death, Jeong Yak-jeon spent nine years on Uido, the island called “Little Heuksan,” and seven years on today’s Heuksando, called “Big Heuksan.”

Heuksando is also associated with several notable events in Korean history. After the downfall of Goryeo, the new Joseon government relocated the residents of the island, due to the frequent raids by Japanese pirates, to the port of Yeongsanpo in the southwestern part of the mainland. This so-called “island evacuation policy” led to a virtual collapse of East Asian maritime trade in the 15th century and relegated the island to the backstage of history. At a time when the Europeans were heralding the Great Age of Discovery, Joseon and Ming China chose a path of isolation.

The island attracted people again in the 17th century. As central control over the provinces had considerably weakened after years KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 17

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of war with Japan, people who sought to escape from social injustice and oppression found this remote island ideal for a life of seclusion and freedom. Although living conditions were difficult, nature at least treated all beings fairly. Today, visitors to the island can find monuments engraved with the names of these early settlers here and there around the island.

Then, in the early 19th century, a tangled web of tyranny in the form of “corruption in the three sources of national finance,” the arduous lives of the islanders in the “tail section” of society, and their admiration and compassion for the upright scholar living among them in exile gave rise to the grim “myth of Black Mountain.” Indeed, the life of Jeong Yak-jeon, who wrote “Record on the Fish Species of Heuksan” (Hyeonsan eobo, aka Jasan eobo ), an excellent reference book on marine biology based on his research and classification of fish in the coastal waters around the island, has inspired a slew of literary works.

In the preface of his book, Jeong Yak-jeon wrote that he prefers to call the island “Hyeonsan” when he writes to his family, because the name “Heuksan” seems so dark and gloomy. In Asian culture, the color black often stands for the north. The midpoint along the Southern Sea Route was known as the “ocean of black water” because it was the northern sea from the standpoint of southern China. Likewise, Heuksan, or “Black Mountain,” meant “northern mountain,” which is supported by the fact that the Kuroshio Current means “black current” in Japanese. Apart from the meaning “black,” however, the character 黑 (heuk in Korean, hei in Chinese, and kuro in Japanese) is also associated with negative connotations of being “bleak” or “wrong,” so it’s understandable why Jeong Yak18 KOREANA summer 2016

1 Heuksando viewed from the adjacent Jangdo is shrouded in mist.

2 A three-story stone pagoda and a stone lantern stand on the site of Musimsa Meditation Center. The temple was built in the 9th century and operated until the 14th century.

3 A group of dolmens in Jin-ri indicates that the island has been inhabited by humans since before the Bronze Age.

jeon preferred the character hyeon 玆 (also pronounced ja in Korean), meaning “distant,” “remote,” or “profound.”

Middens and Dolmens How long has Heuksando been inhabited? And why did people come to this island? These questions go beyond the stuffy musings of the historic age, bound by the few written records left by a handful of individuals. Scholars generally agree that today’s climate conditions emerged around 25,000 B.C., when the earth moved past the Würm ice age, the last glacial period, and a more temperate climate started to set in. Since this was just before the melting of glaciers, the sea level was lower than today by some 140 meters. Imagine Heuksando’s coastline around that time. The Heuksan group of 296 islands, both inhabited and uninhabited — including Gageodo, Hongdo, Yeongsando, Jangdo, Sangtaedo, and Hataedo — must have been a single landmass, while the Korean Peninsula was connected with the islands of Japan.

As the climate became milder, people started to live along the shore, catching fish for food. The more adventurous might have migrated following the path of whales, one of the most valuable food sources at that time. Some might have planted rice seeds. Dolmens are closely related to a farming culture. In East Asia, existing dolmens reveal a circular distribution, ranging from Zhejiang Province to the Shandong and Liaodong peninsulas of China and the

west coast of Korea. It is evidenced by the shell midden found in the Jukhang-ri area of Heuksando, not far from the ferry terminal, and the row of southern-style dolmens on the hillside of Jin-ri, some way above the midden site. It was only 4,000 years ago that the sea rose to its present level.

The port used over the past 4,000 years is today’s Heuksan Port.

“Illustrated Account of Goryeo,” from a thousand years ago, states: “Heuksan [Black Mountain] stands close to Baeksan [White Mountain] to its southeast. At first glance, it looks very high and steep, but close up it reveals its peaks rising one above another. There is a cavity in the middle of the small peak in the front, creating a kind of a secret cave wide enough to hide a boat in.” Jin-ri, the village with the dolmen sites, was so named because it was the site of a naval base (jin).

As the ancient book indicates, Heuksan Port was a perfect natural harbor, which still serves as a fishing base, providing supplies and rest for boats going out to fish in the distant seas, and sheltering them from bad weather. It is crowded with fishing boats from April to October, when a large fishery market operates there, though of a lesser scale than the seasonal market of the past, which thrived until the 1970s. In its coastal waters, horse mackerel, mackerel, croaker, shark, hairtail, and skate are caught in abundance. Skate is especially prized by Koreans and can be quite pricey.

The 25.4-kilometer coastal road that encircles the island was completed only 16 years ago. It took no less than 27 years to pave the entire road because the mountainous terrain is so rugged and the forests so dense. Since traveling around the island by sea is much faster and safer than using the overland roadways, many of the villages on the island have their own docking facilities. A drive from Jin-ri, past the shrine hill, and onto the coastal road on the left leads to the former sites of a government guesthouse and an ancient temple called Musimsa Meditation Center. A recent excavation unearthed the site of the guesthouse for foreign envoys that is mentioned in historical records. And the discovery of a roof tile shard, engraved with the name “Musimsa Seonwon,” along with

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a stone pagoda and a stone lantern, confirmed that this site was home to a Buddhist temple. People in the past might have prayed here for the safety and wellbeing of fishermen and seafarers. From here, a winding uphill road passes Banwolsong (Half Moon Fortress) on Mt. Sangna, which was built in the early 9th century by Jang Bo-go, a legendary maritime hero known as the “Emperor of the Sea,” to ward off Japanese invaders. A beacon tower and the site of a ritual altar stand at the peak as symbols of the island’s ocean culture and its past glory as a base for seaborne trade.

land Routes and Air Routes On the way to Sa-ri Village, where Jeong Yak-jeon built Sachon School to teach the local children, there is an island that persistently blocks the view of the ocean. This is Jangdo, meaning “long island,” on the top of which is a mountain wetland complex with peat deposits, rarely found in islands and coastal areas. The wetlands provide clean drinking water for the islanders and a habitat for more than 500 species of life. The area was once planned to be used for stock farming, but the villagers bought up the land to assure its preservation. Recognized for its outstanding ecological value, it was placed on the Ramsar List of Wetlands of International Importance in 2005.

Toward the end of last year, the government announced that a mini airport with a 1.2-kilometer runway would be built on Heuksando, which led to a surge in land prices. If the airport is completed in 2020, as planned, it will take only an hour from Seoul to reach the island on a 50-seat jet. Then, honeymoon couples might be shouting with glee at the sight of the seas below, dotted with islands of the Heuksan archipelago.

Then again, “Illustrated Account of Goryeo” has this description of the island: “When a boat carrying Chinese envoys arrives, a fire is lit in the beacon tower on the top of the mountain and a series of other mountains respond, one by one, until the signal reaches the royal palace. The chain of signals begins right from this mountain.”

Which of these scenes do you prefer?

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 19

SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 3 Islands of Sinan: Dialogue with Pristine Nature

SAlt FIElDS pRESERVE tHE tIME-HOnORED VAluES OF ISlAnD cultuRE

Kim young-ock Freelance Writer Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

natural sea salt made from seawater, sunshine, the winds of the tidal flats, and long hours of human labor is a popular specialty product of Sinan county. Indeed, about 70 percent of the country’s sea salt comes from this region. the salterns of Sinan are blessed with ideal natural conditions. Here the lives of the island people are an integral element of the distinctive landscape, whence comes this most essential ingredient in the Korean culinary tradition.

1 A salt worker brings up seawater by working the water mill, called mujawi . These days, this work is mostly done using motorized pumps.

2 When the seawater has been dried up, going through as many as 20 steps in the evaporation ponds, the salt workers gather the salt in the crystallization pond with wooden rakes.

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 21

1, 2 A wheelbarrow chock-full of salt is taken to the salt storage shed. The storage shed is designed to allow the bittern to drain out by making a water channel under the wooden planks of the floor.

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22 KOREANA summer 2016

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recently spent a night on Dochodo, one of the islands of Sinan County in South Jeolla Province. It was a night of spring rain. All through the night, the rain fell on our lodgings right in front of the ferry landing. As the motel sat right by the sea, I had feared the night would be long and sleep slow in coming. Contrary to my concerns, there were no sounds of the wind or the waves and my sleep was deep and sweet.

Spring Awakens the Salterns The vast salterns of Sinan are spread across wide swaths of several islands, including Sinuido, Jeungdo, Bigeumdo, and Dochodo.

When work ceases in October, they go into their winter sleep, not to be awakened until the following March or early April. Over the winter, the weary salt fields give themselves over to the tidal flats and rest. During that time, the salt workers tend to their equipment, corroded by the salty seawater, mend the dikes, and clean up the salt pools.

The salt production period is from April to October, of which the busiest months are May to September. In Sinan, work begins at all salterns on March 28 to mark the date in 2008 when the official classification of sun-dried sea salt was, as the locals like to say, “upgraded to food from minerals.”

The west coast tidal flats of Korea are among the five most important tidal flat areas in the world, and some 44 percent of Korea’s tidal flats are found in Sinan County. The salt produced in Sinan has a particularly high mineral content and exceptional taste thanks to the region’s topography that creates a thick layer of sediment, which infuses the salt with additional organic matter. Spread out like blood vessels across the thick tidal flat layers sitting atop the islands’ bedrock are networks of streams called tidal waterways. These waterways, which add the exquisite finishing touch to the tidal flat landscape, serve as a respiratory system that enables the flats to breathe and purify themselves.

Start of the Sinan Salterns In Korea, salt was traditionally made by boiling down seawater. The solar evaporation method of harvesting sea salt through exposure to the sun and the wind was introduced by the Japanese during the colonial period (1910–1945), with a trial operation in Juan, Incheon. Salterns were first built in Sinan in 1946, right after Korea’s liberation from Japanese rule. Park Sang-man, a native of Bigeumdo who had been conscripted into the Japanese army, was forced to work on salt fields in South Pyongan Province, in what is now North Korea. When he returned to his island home after lib-

Park Seong-chang runs a saltworks that bears his over to a greater depth with a backhoe. Salt farmname: Seongchang Salt Farm. He started makers have different ideas about when this should be ing salt much later than most around him. After done. Some do it in November, after the year’s salt spending most of his working life as a primary has been harvested, but Park opts for late January school teacher, in 2007 he returned to Dochodo, his or early February because he believes this helps to island hometown, and took over his father’s saltern minimize the salt crust that can form if it happens operations. Having made a late start, he worked to rain before the salt crystals are properly formed. with extraordinary passion and tenacity to produce To one side of the saltern, which covers an area the highest quality salt that would earn brand loyof four hectares, is a 330-square-meter drying alty among customers. shed where salt bales weighing 1,200 kilograms The starting point is everything. The reservoir are suspended in rows. Park devised this method “Many people on Dochodo are holding the seawater that is his raw material sat on for removing the bittern from the salt instead of folmainly farmers but also make high ground, making it difficult to draw seawater. lowing the regular practice of sitting the bales on salt on the side. In the salt makThere were many seasons when he could not make pallets with drainage holes on the bottom. When ing season, we get up at two any salt. So over five winters, he hired workers and stored in these bales made of a special material, or three in the morning and backhoe equipment to create new water channels the bittern can be removed within five days. When work in the salt fields till seven through which seawater could flow into the reserall the moisture is removed, the bales weigh about or eight.

That leaves time to do voir twice a day. As a result, unlike other salterns 650–750 kg. The flavor of the salt is determined something else during the day.” which store a lot of seawater for use over a long not by the harvesting process but its storage and period, Park’s salt fields constantly receive fresh maturing period, Park says. park Seong-chang inflows.

Seongchang Salt Farm has received ISO 22000 Seongchang Salt Farm, Dochodo In the winter, when salt making is suspended, certification for food safety from the Korea Certifithere are many important chores to be done. The soil in the ponds cation Association. Park has also received the New Intellect Award, where the salt is produced during the season must be turned over bestowed by the government to innovators who “create added value to a depth of 10 centimeters to remove the salt crust on the botusing their knowledge and new ways of working by thinking outside tom and expose the soil to greater air circulation. If the salt yield the box.” Pride in being the first salt farmer to earn this award drives is unsatisfactory, then once every several years the soil is turned Park to work even harder.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 23

“I go to work at about seven and come home when the sun sets,” says Lee Mun-seok.

Though past the age of 80, Lee still walks with a straight back and his eyes are bright and clear.

He still goes to work every morning and spends the day looking after the company’s halophyte garden or tending to other tasks in the salt fields.

According to locals, Lee, who “At first I worked at the was born on Jeungdo and has National Agricultural Coopbeen living there for most of his erative [Nonghyup]. But since life, uses his tongue to measure I lived close to the salterns, I the salinity of the brine during the thought it would be better to salt production process. Or, he work close to home rather than would scrape out the insides of commuting far away. I didn’t soy beans or red beans, fill them mean to do it for very long, but with pine resin, and float them somehow more than 40 years in the brine to see how much have passed.” they would sink. Brine salinity is now measured by an instrulee Mun-seok ment called ppomae . The days taepyung Salt Farm, Jeungdo when water mills called mujawi were used to draw in seawater are also long gone, as that work is now done by motorized water pumps. The wheelbarrows that transported the salt have largely been replaced by carts on rails, and the straw bales for carrying the salt have also vanished. Instead of using a hand shovel to load salt onto a lift, the salt is loaded onto a conveyor belt that automatically dispenses it into carts.

Though he has lived through those difficult times, Lee says he has no particular advice for younger salt workers. He simply says, in a matter-of-fact way: “Those are the kinds of things you teach or learn on the job.”

He adds that he knows when rain is coming, even if the weather bureau doesn’t. A faint but definite smile of pride appears on his face and quickly disappears. If the wind coming over the sea carries the briny smell of the flats, then that means rain, he says. And how can such things be conveyed in words or writing?

Lee says he wants to live out the rest of his life like salt. Though salt can extract the moisture from things, it does not change or take away their essence.

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1 The salt farmer’s day starts at three or four in the morning. As the salt making season lasts five months of the year at most, every minute has to be used to full advantage.

2 A thin crust begins to form in the crystallization pond. The “salt flowers,” or the so-called seeds of salt, bloom and grow, and then gradually sink to the bottom to turn into full crystals.

24 KOREANA summer 2016

“I believe the continued prosperity of the salterns is linked to preventing the stories of the islands from disappearing even when the elderly villagers who have safeguarded them all this time are gone. In this way, we can revive and hand down the time-honored culture of the villages.”

eration, he used his knowledge from that experience to create salt farms in cooperation with local residents. Gurim Salt Farm is recognized as the first saltworks in the Honam [Jeolla] region. In 1948, a cooperative was formed by 450 households of Bigeumdo, who joined hands to establish the 100-hectare Daedong Salt Farm.

According to records of Sinan County, Bigeumdo today is home to 226 salterns that generate annual revenues of more than 10 billion won (about $8.5 million).

In 1953, after the armistice halted the Korean War, a largescale land reclamation project began on the island of Jeungdo.

The waterway that separated one side of Jeungdo from the other was filled in as part of a project to assist war refugees. Despite a lack of proper tools, an embankment was built between the two parts of the island and salt fields were created. This was the start of Taepyung Salt Farm, now the biggest in the country with an area of over 300 hectares. With an annual production volume of some 16,000 tons, it accounts for 6 percent of all salt made in Korea.

A saltern is where seawater is evaporated by the sun and the wind to produce salt. In the first stage, seawater is stored in reservoirs so the impurities can sink to the bottom. The brine then goes through anywhere from 10 to 20 steps in evaporation ponds to

increase the level of salinity. In the reservoir, the brine has a salinity of 3 percent, but by the time it reaches the crystallization ponds, where the salt is formed, the level of salinity reaches 25 percent.

From the first evaporation pond to the crystallization pond, it takes roughly 20 days for seawater to become salt.

From Seawater to Salt In the crystallization pond, a thin crust begins to form. This means the “salt flowers,” the so-called seeds of salt, have started to bloom. These salt flowers, which are fine crystals, gradually grow larger and then sink to the bottom. Under the intense heat of the summer sun, this process can take just 30 minutes. Initially a hollow hexagonal shape, the salt grains fill out both inside and outside.

While the grains grow in size, only the salt that retains the empty space within will be of the highest quality. This space, called an “air gap,” allows humidity in the air to be repeatedly breathed in and out.

Without these air gaps, the salt may dissolve in water but there is no air circulation.

Humid winds increase production volume but lower the quality of the salt. And if rain should suddenly fall, the brine in the evaporation ponds must be quickly transferred into storage tanks.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 25

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In 1948, around the time Daedong Salt Farm was into the hands of an outsider. It remains the propestablished, a school for sea salt specialists was erty of the islanders’ descendants. In 2007, it was set up on the site of present-day Bigeum Elemendesignated a Modern Cultural Heritage in recogtary School to train workers for salt farms on the nition of its rich cultural landscape. nearby islands. One individual who provided conMyeong Man-sul has left many marks on the siderable financial support for creating the saltern family’s ancestral home in Jidang-ri, Bigeumwas the then shipowner Myeong Man-sul. Then, in do. There used to be a mound of neatly squared the 1960s, Myeong took over the saltern. stones, brought over from the mainland, with In 1981, Choe Hyang-sun married Myeong’s which he intended to build a salt roastery. But this second son, Myeong O-dong, and together they plan was never realized and the stones were later now operate Namil Salt Farm. In the early days used to build walls around the house and a shed.

“I seek out any place where of Choe’s marriage, when they lived with her inChoe’s mother-in-law, who had maintained the there’s something to learn about laws, she listened to countless stories told by house all this while, passed away last year. sea salt. I’ve been to Guérande her father-in-law. Though most of the elders of Choe came to live on the island with her hus[Brittany, France] twice, as well the family have since passed away, among those band believing that a saltern was where “you as salterns in Sicily and Vietnam. who gathered at the house were those who made simply swept up the salt with a broom.” But their There’s one thing I’ve learned salt, those who made carts to draw up the searesolute determination has enabled them to for sure. It’s all the same sea salt, water, and still others who made the straw bales put plans into action, which sometimes seemed but they are more skilled at secto carry the salt. Among the things which Choe’s “crazy.” Indeed, they produced ten thousand 20 kg ondary processing.” mother-in-law told her, there is one that still fuels sacks of salt last year. The salterns require conher passion: Her father-in-law, though he owned tinuous investment. Accepting her fate, Choe now choe Hyang-sun namil Salt Farm, Bigeumdo the salt fields, believed that they did not belong goes anywhere inside or outside Korea where she to himself alone, but rather all the local workers can learn about sea salt. When it comes to her who produced the salt. Therefore, he did not sell the saltern to any study of salt and exploring the industry’s future direction, she is single individual but divided it into lots and turned over ownership perhaps even more passionate than her husband. The island’s first to the island’s residents. This is why Daedong Salt Farm, estabfemale village head, Choe is now heading a committee to create a lished with the collective efforts of local workers, has not passed solar salt zone comprising the five villages of Jidang-ri.

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Hence, the salt workers cannot leave the fields unattended even for a moment. The harvested salt is left in storage for a long time to remove the bittern. The longer this natural dehydration process, the better the flavor of the salt is said to be.

passing Down the culture of Salt Fields With the opening of the domestic salt market under the Uruguay Round agreement of 1997, there was much uncertainty about the future competitiveness of Sinan’s sea salt industry. In fact, many salterns did indeed close down. But the inherent value of natural sea salt, an essential ingredient in the fermented foods that are at the core of the Korean culinary culture, proved strong enough to overcome the challenge. What is often overlooked in a technical comparison of the ingredients of rock salt, refined salt, and sea salt is the natural microbes contained in sea salt. These microbes play an important role in fermentation of foods and have long helped Koreans to stay healthy. The five tastes present in the sea salt from Korean shores is also a selling point that is not easily accepted by consumers in other countries, who have their own flavor preferences.

These days, Taepyung Salt Farm is a leading tourist attraction of

Jeungdo, a recently recognized “slow city.” Visitors to the salt fields can tour the Salt Museum and gain firsthand experience in salt making in the activity area. The halophyte garden displays a variety of sea plants, such as samphire, cogongrass, and sea blite. The salt cave healing center is a cozy place to relax.

“We now combine the primary industry of salt production, the secondary industry of salt processing, and the tertiary industry of tourism,” explains Jo Jae-u, director of Taepyung Salt Farm. “We take as much interest in maintaining the island community as we do in increasing the output of salt. The salt workers are steadily growing older, while the sense of community seems to be gradually weakening. I believe the continued prosperity of the salterns is 1 The halophyte garden of Talinked to preventing the stories of epyung Salt Farm on Jeungdo features sea plants such as the islands from disappearing even samphire, cogongrass, and when the elderly villagers who have sea blite, which create a beausafeguarded them all this time are tiful landscape.

2 In the Salt Museum’s activity gone. In this way, we can revive and area at Taepyung Salt Farm, hand down the time-honored culture visitors try their hand at raking of the villages.” up the salt.

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 27

SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 4 Islands of Sinan: Dialogue with Pristine Nature

MEMORIES OF BIGEuMDO I spent seven years of my youth on Bigeumdo. that’s only one-tenth of my life, and those years are forever engraved in the deepest recesses of my memory. the rich tones of the Bigeum dialect, which I acquired in my childhood, are a part of me and the way I write as a literary critic.

Hwang Hieon-san Literary Critic; Professor Emeritus, Korea University cheon Gi-cheol Photographer

28 KOREANA summer 2016

Inland mountains and magnificent coastal scenery envelop the salt fields spread over the coast of Bigeumdo, the first island in Korea where salterns were created.

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y hometown is Bigeumdo, an island off the southwestern coast of South Jeolla Province. People call it a remote island, but until I graduated from college, it never occurred to me that the island I grew up on was a faraway place. I thought that title was reserved for islands elsewhere. Far away? Far away from where?

Mountains, White Beaches, and the language Actually, I didn’t live that long on the island. At the end of the 19th century when Mokpo became an open port and its modernization began, my family relocated there and lived on the mainland. But when the Korean War broke out in 1950, we took refuge back on Bigeumdo. I was still a young child who had to be carried on someone’s back as we made our way to the island. I lived there until I graduated from elementary school, when we returned to Mokpo.

I spent just seven years of my youth on the island. But those seven years are so deeply entrenched in me that even today, when I’m over 70, those experiences still serve as a yardstick for me to perceive and gauge things in the world. For example, to get a feel for the distance between Seoul and Busan, which is around 400 kilometers, I think of it as being one hundred times the distance between Bigeumdo’s main dock and Jahang, the village where I lived. I judge how high a mountain is by measuring it against the height of Bigeumdo’s Mt. Seonwang; when I come across a big old tree, I compare it to the size of the hackberry in Seosan village. The beautiful scenery of Bigeumdo that I grew up around is the prototype of all scenic landscapes, and the personal possessions of my youth are the prototype of all things. To me, a beautiful white sandy beach means WonKOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 29

pyeong Beach, and the ocean means the breathtaking view of the open sea from the Dragon Head Rock near Hanuneom Beach.

Then, there is the language of Bigeumdo. The Korean I speak is the dialect of Jeolla Province, and more specifically, that of Bigeumdo, which is distinctive from other dialects of the region. It is somewhat more refined and expressive compared to the sharp and quick-spoken dialect of Mokpo, and not as drawn out as the way people speak in Heuksando, another island in Sinan County. Even if someone speaks the standard Korean you hear in Seoul, I can tell in an instant if they are a native of the island. Once a workman came by our house to install a wardrobe. The moment I heard him speak, my heart skipped a beat. I asked where he was from and he said Sinan. I said I was also from Sinan and asked where specifically in Sinan, to which he said Bigeumdo. It turned out this Mr. Kim had even attended Bigeum Elementary School. Thereafter, we often called on him for jobs around the house.

proverbs contain layers of life If any lyrical elements have found their way into my theoretical writings of literary criticism, they can be attributed to the rich tones of the Bigeum dialect that have lived on inside me since my youth.

Explaining this would be a difficult task. Instead, taking a look at a few proverbs and expressions unique to the language of Bigeumdo will give a good idea of its distinctive charm. I presume that very few people after my generation will remember these expressions so it might be worthwhile to introduce a few examples here.

“You’ll catch a Nodae thief in Nodae.” This means that when something bad happens, especially when something goes missing, it is usually an inside job, meaning that the culprit is someone close by. As any native of Bigeumdo would know, Nodaedo is a small island off the shores of Gasan-ri. When I was young I heard that there were only two houses on the island, so it’s not hard to surmise the origin of this expression. It was generally used in this fashion: “You’ll catch a Nodae thief in Nodae. Where else? In Suchi or Sachi?”

“Neither a sickle nor a knife is of any use anymore.” This refers to a fiasco where nothing can be done to salvage the situation. The story behind this old saying goes like this: An old man with diarrhea rushes to the outhouse, but can’t undo his belt. Desperate, he decides to cut the belt, and shouts to his son to bring him a knife.

But the son can’t find one. Then bring me the sickle, the old man yells. After a long while, the son finally finds the sickle and takes it to his father. But it’s too late, and that’s when the old man utters these words.

“When I get that seven hundred nyang .” When someone asks for money and you don’t have any, this expression was used halfjokingly to tell them to wait, or to imply that it is out of the question. I heard this was originally used by seamen at the Wonpyeong fish market when they were drinking with bargirls. When the girls turned on their charm and asked the fishermen to buy them an expensive trinket, the seamen would say this in reply. It is synonymous with the idiom, “When my ship comes in.”

The beautiful scenery of Bigeumdo that I grew up around is the prototype of all scenic landscapes, and the personal possessions of my youth are the prototype of all things. To me, a beautiful white sandy beach means Wonpyeong Beach, and the ocean means the breathtaking view of the open sea from the Dragon Head Rock near Hanuneom Beach.

1 In the 400-year-old Naechon Village with its old stone walls, the path that stretches 3 kilometers through the village has a rocky mountain at the back and views of open fields.

2 Wonpyeong Beach in the northwestern part of Bigeumdo is a scenic area with its own camping grounds.

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the Finest Quality Salt Bigeumdo was not only the first place in the southern part of Korea to produce sun-dried sea salt, but at one time was the largest salt producer in the country in terms of unit area. Even now, when most of the salt farms have been turned into rice paddies and fields, the island still produces some of the finest quality salt available. When I was in fifth grade, my classmates and I, with the help of our teachers, won the grand prize at the National Youth Science Competition for our research on the salt-making process. I played only a minimal role. When the teachers made a papier-mâchè model of a salt field, I stirred the gluey mixture; I also kept a diary recording my observations of a salt field for three months. Thanks to that experience, even now I can talk for two hours about salt production methods, such as how the salt is roasted.

Not all sea salt is the same. The quality and taste varies, and the elders on our island were experts in distinguishing between different salts. Just by tasting one grain, they could tell whether it was from a salt farm in the eastern or the western part of the island, or whether it was harvested in early summer or late autumn. time Engrained in Memory In the summer of fifth grade, I spent a night with some friends living in the port town of Wonpyeong in the northwestern part of the island. My friends took me to the fish market, but since the yellow corvina season was over, most vendors had already cleaned up and left, and all that remained were a few makeshift stores that had

sold alcohol to the fishermen. With a bowl of barley they had taken from home for currency, my friends searched the stores one by one in hopes of finding something to buy for me, to no avail. Finally, at the last store, they managed to spot a crate of soda pop sitting in a corner. There were enough for two bottles each, and being the guest I think I got one extra.

I never knew that you could get drunk on soda pop. Feeling lightheaded and nauseous, I sprawled out on the sand. The sun had set and the sky was filled with stars. I remember the moon was shining brightly. My friends were singing in chorus right next to me, but it sounded so faint, like the sounds coming from some faraway land.

And even more distant were the gentle sounds of breaking waves.

The stars looked like they had grown long tails and were swirling slowly around me. The sand was still warm from the heat of the sun, and its warmth enveloped my body. I felt like I was lying on the palm of a giant hand, which was rocking me, or my body had disintegrated into grains of sand that were being blown about by the wind. How much time had passed? When I opened my eyes, it was already past midnight and my friends were sitting around me, looking down at me, worried.

This experience is imprinted on the deepest layers of my consciousness. I thought then that I had briefly entered another time and returned. I refer to that time as “the time lying in the deepest part of my mind,” like the years I spent on Bigeumdo, which are forever engraved in the deep recesses of my memory.

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SpEcIAl FEAtuRE 5 Islands of Sinan: Dialogue with Pristine Nature

A tREASuRE SHIp nEStlED In MuDDy SEABED FOR 650 yEARS In 1323, a merchant vessel of the chinese yuan Dynasty sank off the coast of Korea while sailing toward Japan. the wreckage had been buried in the muddy seabed of Sinan for six and a half centuries before it was finally recovered after 11 rounds of underwater excavation from 1976 to 1984. the ship was filled with relics that provided insight into international maritime trade in East Asia during the late Middle Ages. this excavation launched an era of maritime archaeology in Korea.

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lee Kwang-pyo Opinion Section Editor The Dong-a Ilbo Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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n August 20, 1975, a fisherman working in the sea off the coast of Jeungdo, one of the islands of Sinan County in South Jeolla Province, was surprised to find six celadon vases snagged in his net. He reported the incident to the Cultural Properties Management Bureau (current Cultural Heritage Administration), which confirmed they were ancient ceramics of Chinese origin.

The celadon vases were found in the waters where a large ship was rumored to have gone under a long time ago.

‘Excavation of the century’ Convinced that the wreck of an ancient ship was lying on the seabed, the Cultural Properties Management Bureau planned a full-scale excavation. Meanwhile, word spread that Chinese ceramics were often caught in fishing nets, which attracted looters to pilfer the relics under the sea. When things became serious, the area within a two-kilometer radius from the sunken ship was designated a Cultural Heritage Protection Zone, and salvage of the ship’s cargo began in earnest.

Through 1984, eleven rounds of excavation were carried out with the assistance of the ROK Navy Ship Salvage Unit. The ocean floor held an astonishing array of treasures. Laden with ancient artifacts, the ship was stuck in the seabed with its hull listing to the port side.

The deck and superstructure, due to their lengthy exposure to seawater, had practically corroded away while the body, sealed in thick mud, remained intact.

The underwater excavation was an extremely complicated operation, especially for Korean archaeologists who had no previous experience working under the sea.

Underwater visibility was close to zero, the water was deep (average 20–25 meters), and the velocity was high (average 2.5 knots).

Also, the tidal range was so extreme that the divers could only work once or twice a day, during the short periods of slack water, and had to endure high water pressure. Moreover, recovering the buried porcelain was laborious work because the mud was so thick and hard that high-pressure dredging equipment had to be used. The work would have been impossible without the support of the Navy Ship Salvage Unit. Dubbed “the excavation of the century,” this underwater archaeological project, despite difficult conditions, eventually yielded immense rewards.

Research has confirmed that the ship was indeed a merchant vessel from Yuan China.

It apparently sank in the waters of Sinan in 1323 after leaving Ningbo, China, carrying commodities bound for Hakata and Kyoto in Japan. The ship’s nationality was identified by examining its construction techniques, the origin of its wooden frame, supplies for its crew, and the nature of its cargo. When intact, the vessel was estimated to have been 34 meters long, 11 meters across at its widest point, and 3.75–4.5 meters high, with a weight of some 260 tons. Later, the ship was named the Sinan after the site of its discovery.

Maritime trade in northeast Asia The Sinan was filled with a variety of trade commodities: more than 20,000 ceramic dishes, 28 tons of copper coins, 1,017 pieces of rosewood, various metal goods, wooden lacquerware, glassware, stoneware, bone and horn wares, spices, ink stones, tea, herbal medicine, and diverse seeds. There were also cargo boxes and other packaging materials and wooden tags attached to the freight, as well as remnants of the ship’s body.

The names of Japanese Buddhist temples (like Tohokuji) and of individuals (like Hachiro) were written on the freight tags, totaling

Offering a rare opportunity to see an ancient shipwreck up close, the National Maritime Museum at the National Research Institute of Maritime Cultural Heritage showcases the remains of the Sinan . The 14th-century Chinese merchant ship recovered from the sea of Sinan was reassembled in the Sinan Shipwreck Gallery after going through conservation treatment.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 33

The Sinan was a landmark discovery that offered valuable insight into East Asia’s international maritime trade during the Middle Ages, which flourished to such an extent that its trade routes were known as the “Ceramic Road.”

some 360 pieces, which indicated that the ship was destined for a Japanese port. The artifacts retrieved from the Sinan shed light on various aspects of East Asian international trade at that time, including its scale, characteristics of exchanges, regional lifestyles, and the popularity of Chinese goods in the region. The predominance of porcelain shows that it was an important item for trade between China and Japan. The corrosion-resistant quality of ceramics enabled the pieces to remain in outstanding condition, even after so many years submerged in seawater. About 60 percent of the recovered ceramics were celadon works fired at the kilns of Longquan in Zhejiang Province, indicating that the porcelain from these kilns was especially popular in Japan. Specifically the presence of many vases, incense burners, pots, and tea utensils — such as bowls, jars, and cases — attests that Japanese aristocrats and Buddhist priests favored Chinese wares for serving tea.

Copper coins were also a major export item from China to Japan. With no mint of their own, the Japanese imported Chinese coins to be used for currency or melted to build Buddhist statues. The artifacts made of rosewood, a prized wood for furniture from subtropical regions, retained their original condition thanks to being completely encased in the mud.

While most of the artifacts were from China, there were also other items made in Korea or Japan. In particular, celadon vessels from Goryeo were included in the ship’s cargo, indicating that China reexported to Japan some of the celadon products imported from Goryeo.

The discovery of sunken treasures in the waters of Sinan marked the start of Korea’s underwater archaeology. It was followed by a succession of other excavations 34 KOREANA summer 2016

in the area, including the salvage of more than 30,000 pieces of Goryeo celadon in the waters of Wando County, South Jeolla Province, in 1984. As in the case of the Sinan , accidental discoveries would lead to major archaeological projects. In April 2002, as many as 243 pieces of Goryeo celadon were caught in fishing nets of a nine-ton trawler in the sea near the island of Biando in Gunsan, North Jeolla Province. A full-scale excavation ensued to recover some 3,000 ancient porcelain objects. In May 2007, off the coast of Daedo in Taean County, South Chungcheong Province, a webfoot octopus was caught with its tentacles wrapped around a celadon vessel. This finding launched a prompt survey of the ocean floor, leading to the recovery of 23,000 pieces of Goryeo celadon. At times, the apprehension of looters resulted in valuable discoveries. The underwater excavation conducted from 2006 to 2009 near Yamido in Okdo-myeon, Gunsan, started after the arrest of looters who had taken possession of 500 or so celadon pieces from the site.

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underwater Archaeology Most of the ceramics brought up from the West Sea have been Goryeo celadon.

This is because during the Goryeo Dynasty (918–1392), celadon items were mainly produced in Gangjin and Buan, in present-day South Jeolla and North Jeolla provinces, respectively. Celadon from these kilns was sold across the nation, and was especially favored by wealthy residents of the capital, Gaegyeong (today’s Kaesong in North Korea).

In those days, long-distance transportation of goods would be undertaken by sea rather than overland because water transport was safer and more efficient for handling a large volume of cargo. So the people of Goryeo used ships to transport celadon objects from the kilns in Gangjin and Buan to the capital. Some of the ships, however, were sunk in rough seas. The celadon objects found in the deep sea had been aboard those ill-fated ships.

It is not just Goryeo celadon ware that was recovered from the seas off the west

1 The relics ranging from works of arts and crafts to household articles are valuable historical materials providing insight into the international maritime trade in East Asia during the late Middle Ages.

2 The Goryeo Shipwrecks Gallery of the National Maritime Museum features the remains of the Dalido , a Korean ship that is believed to have been sunken in the West Sea in the 13th to 14th century.

tracing the history of ships, marine transportation, and underwater archaeological excavations. The four galleries are each dedicated to a specific theme: Goryeo Shipwrecks, Sinan Shipwreck, Life in Fishing Villages, and the History of Korean Ships.

The outdoor exhibition presents a variety of full-scale reproductions of ancient ships.

The museum houses more than 50,000 artifacts, including Goryeo celadon and other relics recovered from the seas, together with related materials. Notable exhibits include the remains and reproductions of ancient vessels, including the Wando (late 11th or 12th century, excavated in 1984 from the sea near Eodu-ri in Wando County, South Jeolla Province), and the Dalido (13th–14th century, excavated in 1995 from the tidal flats of Dalido, near Mokpo, South Jeolla Province).

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coast of Korea. Some 1,400 artifacts were recovered through several rounds of excavation near the island of Mado, of Taean County, South Chungcheong Province, which included documents written on bamboo slips, deer horns, combs, rice seeds, millet, soybean paste, fermented soybean blocks, salted crabs, shrimp, anchovies, and other foodstuff. It is presumed that local specialties and other daily necessities from the southern regions were shipped to the capital along with the celadon. Excavated in 2009–2010, the ship was determined to have been a grain carrier based on its bamboo freight tags; it was bound for Gae-

gyeong in the second month of 1208, carrying rice, beans, millet, buckwheat, fermented seafood, coal, and dried stingrays from Haenam, Naju, and Jangheung in South Jeolla Province.

As underwater excavations expanded from Sinan to other areas of the West Sea, the government felt the need for an agency to coordinate the excavation projects, along with preserving, showcasing, and conducting research on the retrieved relics. The National Maritime Museum at the National Research Institute of Maritime Cultural Heritage in Mokpo, South Jeolla Province, offers a comprehensive display of relics

celebration of the 40th Anniversary The Sinan was a landmark discovery that offered valuable insight into East Asia’s international maritime trade during the Middle Ages, which flourished to such an extent that its trade routes were known as the “Ceramic Road.” The remains of the ship, salvaged from the seabed and conserved with utmost care, are on display at the National Maritime Museum, while relics recovered from the shipwreck are exhibited in a permanent gallery at the National Museum of Korea in Seoul.

It has been 40 years since the excavation of the Sinan shipwreck began. To celebrate this occasion, the National Museum of Korea will present a special exhibition of the ship’s relics from July through October this year, shedding light on ancient cultural interaction in East Asia.

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FOcuS

HuMAn VS. MAcHInE In tHE GAME OF GO Back in March, the world’s attention was focused on Seoul where the best-offive series was held between go (baduk in Korean) grandmaster lee Se-dol and Google DeepMind’s artificial intelligence system AlphaGo. the whole world anxiously watched to see whether the prediction that artificial intelligence (AI) would overtake humans sometime in the future was coming true. cho Hwan-gue Professor of Computer Engineering Pusan National University

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inally, it came to an end — the competition between a human and a machine, the kind of thing only seen previously in sci-fi films. The match between Lee Se-dol, a 9-dan grandmaster of the ancient board game go (fourth in global rankings), who carried the hopes of humankind, and AlphaGo, the proto-artificial intelligence system, marked an extraordinary milestone in the history of civilization. The machine’s challenge to a game whose core principles involve human intuition and creativity was an epochal event pointing to the future of artificial intelligence.

Go, the Simplest Game in the World No game in the world could have simpler rules than go. Western board games like backgammon require special playing pieces, while chess and janggi (Chinese: xiangqí) are played with a variety of pieces. But all that’s needed to play go are the black and white pieces called “stones” and a board marked with a grid of vertical and horizontal lines. When the stones are not available, pebbles or even pieces of wood will do. At an overseas seminar some time ago, I saw a Korean professor playing go with a foreign scholar by marking their moves on a sheet of graph paper with a pencil. The rules are also so simple that anybody can learn them in just 10 minutes.

In fact, there is only one rule for placing stones on the board: you can’t place your stone in a spot which has just been vacated through capture and removal by the opponent.

It is generally accepted that go originated in ancient China, and indeed it is in China that the earliest records of the game are found.

One theory has it that Huangdi, or the Yellow Emperor, one of the legendary Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors of China, created the game for the education of his children. Whether that’s the case or not, it’s certain the game was already played between 475 and 221 B.C. during the Spring and Autumn and the Warring States periods, in view of references to the game in the classic texts “The Analects of Confucius” and “The Mencius.” The game was likely introduced to Korea in the fourth or fifth century, during the Three Kingdoms period.

Before computers and the Internet, go was a favorite pastime of Koreans. There was nothing like a game of go to keep two adults occupied for hours on end. Go is different from other board games in that a vast array of strategies can be used, and there is a great difference between the skill levels of professionals and amateurs.

It is next to impossible for an amateur player to accidentally beat an experienced master. Hence, the barrier between skilled and unskilled players is substantial, such that a novice has virtually no chance against an expert without a handicap.

Go has developed as a game that represents the essence of East Asian traditions, exerting a noticeable impact on the culture of each country in this region. It abounds with Eastern symbolism and mysticism, as reflected in the unapproachable world of the masters, the contrasting colors of the stones that represent yin and yang, and the board’s 19×19 grid with 361 intersecting points, which signify the

myriad celestial bodies.

In Korea, many go terms are used in the fields of politics, economics, and culture. The term cho-ilkgi, which originally referred to the 60-second countdown before each move, is widely used to indicate the dwindling amount of time left before some decision must be made. Other go-based terms include kkotnori-pae , meaning only one side has a lot to lose; bokgi, an evaluation process; chogangsu, a last-ditch move; susun, a sequential move; and hogu, literally “jaws of the tiger,” referring to a serious crisis .

The Western worldview, which is often mechanical and materialistic, differs from the Eastern worldview that gives deference to human emotions and spirituality. In classical Asian literature, for example, the sound of the lid of a boiling teakettle rattling up and down would evoke a sense of pathos. In the West, however, the focus would be placed on the mechanical power of the steam that forced the teakettle lid to bounce up and down. James Watt’s steam engine, which ignited the Industrial Revolution, was born from such scientific observation, marking the historic turning point when the power of machines began to replace the physical capability of humans.

From Steam Engine to Artificial Intelligence Furthermore, a mechanized world, once feared to make human labor redundant, moved closer to reality with the invention of the computer. With the development of modern medicine, studies have found that human intelligence is related to biochemical interaction of brain cells. When it was understood that mental disorders are not the wicked work of the devil but are caused by defective neurotransmitters in the brain, human intelligence and cognitive sciences emerged as new fields of study. Under scientific organization of a materialistic worldview, machines began to catch up with humankind’s mental capacity.

The concept of artificial intelligence first emerged in the 1960s.

But it was only after the development of powerful hardware based on computer and semiconductor technology that the idea started to become reality. In addition, the sphere of artificial intelligence has been further expanded by big data memory storage with boundless capacity. Recently, artificial intelligence has made great strides in aircraft piloting, unmanned surveillance, facial recognition, spam email filtering, and investment advice, and is now making its advance into a variety of industrial sectors. It was the world’s leading The 9-dan go champion Lee IT firm Google that first caught onto Se-dol (right) plays a match these winds of change. It got off to a against Google DeepMind’s proto-artificial intelligence head start in the development of an AI program AlphaGo. Sitting system for the future through its puracross from Lee, DeepMind’s chase of DeepMind, the British artifilead programmer Aja Huang, an amateur 6-dan player himself, cial intelligence company that develplaces stones on the board for oped AlphaGo, for £400 million (some AlphaGo. Lee was beaten 4-1 in $650 million). the five-game match.

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computer’s challenge to Human Intelligence Previously, chess was thought to be the game that would most dramatically demonstrate the power of artificial intelligence. After a series of failed attempts, in a competition held in 1997, IBM’s Deep Blue computer beat the world chess champion Garry Kasparov.

This victory came some 30 years after chess was first targeted for a machine versus human challenge. In 2011, IBM’s Watson supercomputer routed human contestants in the TV quiz show “Jeopardy.”

Many scientists had already predicted that humans could never beat the computer in contests like chess or quiz games in which the number of answers is finite. Go, however, allows for an astronomical number of possible moves and thus emerged as the next realm for humans to defend.

Because go brings into play human intuition and Eastern traditional thought patterns, it was long believed that artificial intelligence could never outplay humans in this game. Indeed, existing computer go programs could not compete against skilled human players. The computer was especially weak at assessing the overall status of a game, or reading the opponent’s intentions. But it became a new ballgame when AlphaGo appeared on the scene.

Finally, in a five-game match between go champion Lee Se-dol and AlphaGo on March 9–15, 2016, AlphaGo’s capability came as a shock. Its play was far beyond experts’ expectations. The computer soundly defeated Lee four games to one. Professional go players were befuddled by its clever, relentless moves that were often completely different from what humans would make. What seemed to be an odd mistake at first turned out to be an unexpected strategic move that resulted from a tremendous amount of foresight. During the first three games, AlphaGo gained supremacy, little by little, without making any mistakes. On the other hand, Lee was psychologically shaken and made repeated mistakes, eventually conceding to the proto-artificial intelligence program. But in the fourth game, something surprising happened. After suffering three consecutive defeats, Lee managed to analyze AlphaGo’s strategies and earned a hard-fought victory, proving that AlphaGo was not totally invincible.

AlphaGo accumulates new knowledge and understanding by reviewing previous go games. In essence, it analyzes winning strategies while calculating and storing all the probabilities. What makes this feat possible is its vast network of hardware devices.

The records of all go grandmasters’ moves and all possible variations are stored in Google’s 1,200 CPUs and cloud storage. AlphaGo has an absolute advantage over humans in that it can immediately access all these records without having to read and calculate again at every move. Its key strength is its ability to identify favorable new methods through the Monte Carlo simulation, a computerized mathematical model that assesses an almost endless range of possible outcomes and probabilities. Humans can calculate probable go moves on the board at the rate of 30 times an hour, but AlphaGo can do the same thing more than a million times an hour.

As a result, in the contest with Lee, the computer succeeded in coming up with new moves that humans could never have thought of so quickly. Its seemingly strange moves, which initially dumbfounded onlookers, turned out to be a brilliant maneuver in hindsight.

AlphaGo’s Weak Spot Emerging from the match, Lee declared, “The time has come to review go theories all over again.” This remark most accurately summed up his contest with AlphaGo. The emergence of this artificial intelligence system has served as the turning point for a re-examination of existing go theories. Regrettably, however, go matches with a machine end up as a single-person event that precludes the emotional exchange between players, which is an integral aspect of the game. As Lee noted, “Robots will never understand the beauty of the game the same way humans do.”

Lee’s defeat does not mean a loss of human dignity in the world of go. Moreover, there is little possibility that AlphaGo, which specializes only in go, will enter the human sphere and start to take control anytime soon. It is a stretch of the imagination to say that the duel between Lee Se-dol and AlphaGo amounted to a machine’s dominance of humans. Though it is now clear that human calculations can also be performed by machines, the issue is ultimately the relationship between people, since the operation of any computer still depends on human guidance.

What’s important is not a clear dichotomy between humans and artificial intelligence, but their coexistence in a proper manner. Only the technologies that can understand humans will be able to survive, as seen in the recent failure of 3D TVs.

Lee’s defeat does not mean a loss of human dignity in the world of go. Though it is now clear that human calculations can also be performed by machines, the issue is ultimately the relationship between people, since the operation of any computer still depends on human guidance.

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Students at the Lee Se-dol Go Academy in Seoul watch the Google DeepMind Challenge on TV. Lee opened the academy in 2014 to discover and train talented young players.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 39

IntERVIEW

DIREctOR lEE JOOn-IK A pASSIOn FOR HIStORy ExpOunDED tHROuGH FIlM

Darcy paquet Film Critic

Director lee Joon-ik has certainly enjoyed his share of commercial success, from his recordbreaking hit “King and the clown” (2005) to more recent releases like “the throne” (2015). But it’s clear that his passion for filmmaking extends far beyond box office revenues. throughout his career, lee has thought long and hard about the kind of stories he wants to tell, thereby contributing to the cultural discourse taking place in Korean society.

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n early 2016, Lee Joon-ik’s film “Dong-ju: The Portrait of a Poet” enjoyed a very special kind of success. An independent feature with a budget of only 500 million won ($440,000), this biographical film about one of Korea’s best-loved poets, Yun Dong-ju (1917–1945), was rapturously received by critics and audiences alike. Shot in black-and-white, it explores Yun’s coming of age during one of the darkest eras in Korean history. It is both an unflinching look at his tragic death after being arrested in Japan as a “thought criminal” toward the end of the colonial era, and a celebration of his sad but beautiful poems, which appear interspersed throughout the film.

Thanks to word of mouth, “Dong-ju” remained in theaters for an unusually long release for a low-budget, independent production and ultimately sold more than 1.1 million tickets. The film has also received some international exposure, opening in the United States in a targeted release this spring, and also screening at the New York Asian Film Festival. A theatrical release in Japan, where the poet has a significant number of fans, is scheduled for the fall.

We caught up with director Lee Joon-ik at his office in Chungmu-ro, the Seoul district that in decades past served as the hub of the Korean film industry.

Lee Joon-ik has made 11 movies since his debut in 1993. The posters decorating the wall behind his desk at his office give a condensed view of his career. From left are the posters for “The Throne” (2015), “Dong-ju: The Portrait of a Poet” (2016), “King and the Clown” (2005), “Radio Star”(2006), and “Hope” (2013).

Historical Fiction and Hollywood techniques Darcy paquet From your filmography, you seem to have a strong interest in history. What attracts you to films set in the past? lee Joon-ik I grew up watching a lot of Hollywood films, and saw a lot of Japanese classics in my youth. People learn about European history both through European films and Hollywood films. But while working in the film import business I realized that people from other countries knew very little about Korea. They knew about Japan, and China, and their particular histories.

But they had never seen any cultural products that might spark an interest in Korea. So one thing that inspired me to make films was to fill that gap, and explore the question of what makes Korea different from China or Japan.

That’s how I ended up making “Once Upon a Time in a Battlefield” (Hwangsanbeol) in 2003.

People are familiar with the Crusades in Europe, but actually the seventh-century war depicted in this film, between the Silla, Baekje and Goguryeo kingdoms, was on a similar scale. During 30 years of fighting, over 130,000 troops sailed in from China to take part. If I were shooting the film now I could probably do it on a much bigger scale, but at the time we decided to use comedy to appeal to viewers, and it ended up working quite well.

Still, the humor and content of that film was very local, with the dialects and all, so after that I decided to explore something more universal, and that resulted in “King and the Clown.” There was a play that formed the basic source material, but I spent a lot of time researching the concept of the clown. There’s the Pierrot in commedia dell’arte (comedy of craft), and clowns also appear in Shakespeare or in Tarkovsky’s film “Andrei Rublev.” I spent a lot of time thinking about the differences between clowns in Europe and those of the Joseon Dynasty. Ultimately, I think more than just being a foil or a vehicle for expressing an author’s thoughts, clowns in Joseon culture represent the masses in some way. They strongly assert their own point of view, and their relationship with powerful figures like the king is more tense. I shot the film with this concept in mind, and it was a success not only in Korea, but also seemed to connect with international audiences.

Dp I agree with you that Korean culture has its own distinctive qualities that clearly differ from those of Japan or China, but where do you think that uniqueness comes from? lJ Throughout its history, Korea had diverse influences from its neighbors. Until the early part of the 19th century, China had a tremendous influence, then from around 1900 it was Japan that influenced the country. Following independence from Japan’s colonial rule and the Korean War, the United States exerted predominant influence. So you have these cultural influences from three major empires all mixed up together. Besides, artistic creators tend to draw the most energy from strong emotions. Because of their tough history, the Korean people have had a KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 41

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wellspring of hardship, pain, and anger inside of them.

In terms of film production, the United States, Japan, and China have often drawn on literature and novels, but in Korean culture there are fewer fictional stories to adapt. That is why Korean filmmakers have been pushed to develop original stories. Often they do that by combining the emotions contained in their difficult past with the filmmaking techniques of Hollywood, which has resulted in something new.

A low-budget, Black-and-White Film Dp What was the starting point for the film “Dong-ju: The Portrait of a Poet?” lJ Actually, in the late 1990s I produced a film called “The Anarchists,” which was set in Shanghai during the colonial era. The screenplay was written by Park Chan-wook, and while we were researching and preparing the film, I thought a lot about how to reconstruct this period on the big screen. Ultimately the film wasn’t a success, and I moved on to other projects.

Then in 2011, I was invited to a film festival in Kyoto which was devoted to historical films. I screened my films “Battlefield Heroes” (Pyeongyangseong ) and “Blades of Blood” (Gureumeul boseonan dal cheoreom ), and while I was there, I decided to visit Doshisha University, the last school that Yun Dong-ju attended. We went to see the poetic tablets that were erected to him, and we also walked along the bridge that appears in Jeong Ji-yong’s poem “Apcheon” (Kamogawa).

A couple of years later, on the way home from a Directors’ Guild workshop in Jecheon, I happened to sit next to director Shin Yeonshick on the train. He’s a specialist in low-budget films, whereas I had only shot commercial films. I told him I’d been thinking about making a film about Yun Dong-ju, but that it wouldn’t be possible to do as a commercial feature. It costs a lot of money to recreate that historical period, and investors won’t finance it if they think it won’t recover its budget. I asked if he’d be able to write a script that could be shot on a low budget. He was excited about the idea, so I asked 42 KOREANA summer 2016

him to aim for a budget of 250 million won ($220,000), and proposed centering the drama around Yun’s relationship with his cousin Song Mong-gyu. That’s how it started.

Dp How would you introduce the poet Yun Dong-ju to people from other countries who aren’t familiar with him? lJ Actually his work has been translated and published in several languages, but he’s not internationally famous, so few people will have come across his poems. In general, there are very few Korean poets who are known abroad, except Ko Un perhaps. Yun Dong-ju’s poetry itself is quite important, 1 A scene from “Dong-ju: but his life and death are no less important The Portrait of a Poet.” to remember.

Lee Joon-ik says he The colonization of Korea by Japan is not chose to work in blackand-white to depict well known outside of Asia. But I think the Yun Dong-ju as simply death of poet Yun Dong-ju in Fukuoka Prisand honestly as poson, after undergoing medical experimentasible, true to the shortlived poet’s image in tion, is something that belongs not just in the black-and-white Korean history, but in world history. There photos that he was was an instigator of this experimentation familiar with.

2 Lee Joon-ik (third named Shiro Ishii, the surgeon general who from left) chats with created Unit 731 in the Kwantung Army and the actors during the shooting of “Dong-ju.” experimented on 200,000 people in Manchuria. He was responsible for the medical experiments in Fukuoka Prison that were performed on 1,800 people, including Yun Dong-ju and Song Mong-gyu. It’s obvious that Shiro Ishii should have been tried for war crimes, like those responsible for Nazi medical experiments, but he lived out a comfortable life and died of old age in his 90s. This film is not just the story of a poet, it is about the conscience of a certain historical era.

Dp What do the two real-life protagonists of this film, Yun Dongju and Song Mong-gyu, share in common, and how are they different? lJ They were born in the same place, and died in the same place. They were cousins, close friends, and competitors. Yun Dong-ju’s poetry did not emerge simply from sitting alone in a room and writing. We can also feel in his expressions the influence of the people who most influenced him psychologically and emotionally.

More than anything, it was the historical era in which he lived that affected him most. But we may argue that after leaving home and embarking on their journeys, it was Song Mong-gyu, the person closest to him, who left the greatest influence on his work.

A poet expresses the pain of a particular era. But that pain was also reflected in their friendship: in feelings of inferiority, or antagonism, or at times, in the sense that each person was a mirror of the other.

“The colonization of Korea by Japan is not well known outside of Asia. But I think the death of poet Yun Dong-ju in Fukuoka Prison, after undergoing medical experimentation, is something that belongs not just in Korean history, but in world history.” looking Back at Modernity Dp These days there are quite a number of Korean films set in the colonial era. In the past, directors seemed to consciously avoid that period, and there were very few films that garnered commercial success. What has changed, in your opinion? lJ Yes, in the past the colonial era was largely passed over by filmmakers. The reason is because it was an era of despair. When viewers spend money to go to the theater, they want to experience a sense of triumph.

In times when Korea was struggling and life was tough, telling stories about failure was unwelcome. But economically, Korea has grown a great deal, and I think perhaps now we can more confidently tell stories about our past failures. A good example is Choi Dong-hoon’s film “Assassination.” The film is set in the dark days in our history, but the story also emphasizes personal triumphs, such as when Jun Ji-hyun’s character succeeds in her mission. I think that enabled the film to be successful, and in a way it opened up three decades of potential stories for Korean filmmakers.

Dp What are you working on these days? Do you have another film project under way?

lJ I’m developing two or three screenplays, but I’ve chosen some tough subjects to tackle, so it’s a bit of a challenge right now.

What I’d most like to make is a film that pursues the issue of Korean modernity. In the case of the United States or Japan, the introduction of modernity was fairly straightforward. But in Korea it’s quite complicated. How it’s usually explained in terms of world history is that Japan colonized Korea and introduced modernity. I think there are problems with that narrative.

Personally, I think we can locate the start of modernity in the encounter of late Joseon-era society with Catholicism. It touched off a movement called “Seohak” (literally, “Western Learning”) to introduce Western thinking and science to Korean society. Eventually this was counterbalanced by the “Donghak” (“Eastern Learning”) movement, and in many ways the conflict between the two movements led to Japan’s colonization of Korea.

I think a film that explores the growth of Seohak and then Donghak, leading to Korea’s loss of national sovereignty, could say something interesting about the nature of modernity in Korea. But perhaps I’m being too ambitious. Discussing all this in a single screenplay is a huge task!

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ARt REVIEW

KOREAN-RUSSIAN ARTIST

BYUN WOL-RYONG FINDS HIS PLACE IN KOREAN CONTEMPORARY ART Mok Soo-hyun Art Historian

pen Varlen, born in primorsky Krai, Russia in 1916 to first-generation Korean immigrants, was an art professor for 35 years at the Ilya Repin leningrad Institute for painting, Sculpture and Architecture. He remained largely unknown in Korea during his lifetime and after his death in 1990. For the first time, Korean viewers had a chance to explore his life and work thanks to a large-scale retrospective held from March 3 to May 8, at the national Museum of Modern and contemporary Art (MMcA).

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©National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art

1 “Liberation” (1959). Oil on canvas, 200 x 365 cm. The painting depicts how the Soviet airborne forces in 1945 heroically released North Korean prisoners who had struggled to survive during long detention at the concentration camp in Chongjin.

2 “Portrait of the Dancer Choi Seung-hee” (1954). Oil on canvas, 118 x 84 cm. This portrait depicts the dancer not in the luxurious Western image that the public is more familiar with but in a strong and benevolent mother image that reflects socialist values.

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here is a self-portrait of the artist. The upper body is expressed in seemingly rough, but confident and carefree brushstrokes. In the portrait, the artist is depicted looking upward. So even when face-to-face with the subject, it feels as if you are looking up at him. This clearly denotes the artist’s sense of pride. However, the portrait is incomplete and it bears no signature — as if to suggest his position (or lack thereof in this case) in Korea’s contemporary art history.

cherishing the Motherland The spring flowers were in full bloom along the way to the Deoksugung branch of the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, where the Pen Varlen Retrospective was being held.

The path leading from the front gate of the palace to the exhibition hall was lined with banners featuring unfamiliar Russian letters.

They spelled out Byun Wol-ryong’s name in Russian, Пен Варлен.

Though known as Pen Varlen in Russia, he was an ethnic Korean who lived under the Korean name Byun Wol-ryong all his life.

Byun was born in 1916 in Russia — in Shkotovsky, Primorsky Krai, located to the southeast of Siberia. His parents had settled there after crossing the Tuman River to flee from hunger and poverty. Byun showed a talent for art from early childhood. After completing his secondary education in Sinhanchon (or New Koreatown) in Vladivostok, he was sent by his parents to faraway Sverdlovsk (now Yekaterinburg) Art School near the Ural Mountains. While he 46 KOREANA summer 2016

was there, his family was forcibly relocated to Central Asia under Stalin’s deportation policy. After graduation in 1940, he entered the Leningrad Institute for Painting, Sculpture and Architecture, which was attended by the brightest aspiring artists of the Soviet Union at that time. Thanks to his noteworthy talent and hard work, Byun earned recognition from the professors for his graduation assignment, “Korean Fishermen” (1947). He went on to graduate school, received his doctorate degree in 1951, and became an assistant professor at the drawing department of the Leningrad Institute, which was later renamed the Ilya Repin Leningrad Institute for Painting, Sculpture and Architecture in honor of the Russian realist 1 “Rice Planting in Korea” (1955). painter Ilya Repin.

Oil on canvas, 116.2 x 201.5 cm.

2 “Repatriation of North Korean In June 1953, Byun was disPrisoners of War at Panmunjom” patched to North Korea at the (1953). Oil on canvas, 51 x 71 cm. command of the Soviet Ministry of This is a scene of Panmunjom in early August 1953 when a Culture. The North Korean governprisoner exchange took place ment had pinpointed Byun as the between North and South Korea. artist who was needed to reestabByun Wol-ryong was there, recording the prisoner swap that lish Pyongyang University of Fine had been the thorniest issue of Arts, which had been destroyed the armistice treaty. It confirms during the Korean War. While servthat the North Korean prisoners of war refused to return home ing as its dean and advisor for 15 wearing the clothes supplied by months, Byun helped the univerthe U.S. army and stripped down sity to draw up a curriculum, train to their underwear.

art teachers, and organize an exhibition to mark the ninth anniversary of Korea’s liberation from Japanese colonial rule. He ended up overworking himself, fell ill, and decided to return to the Soviet Union to regain his health and replenish his painting supplies. But he never made it back to North Korea. He had refused to be naturalized as a North Korean citizen, and moreover, his North Korean supporters Chong Sang-jin, the vice minister of culture who had arranged for his entry into the country, and Ri Sang-jo, ambassador to the Soviet Union, had since been purged in a power struggle. Due to the political circumstances and his personal stance, his reentry was not possible. Though he had dedicated his efforts to laying the foundation for North Korean art, for which he earned the admiration and respect of local artists, he would never again set foot on North Korean soil. All traces of Byun have been erased from North Korea’s art history, as if he had never existed.

works, seemed more intent on telling the story of the artist.

Byun’s works are mostly faithful, realistic depictions of his subjects. Fine etchings and oil paintings characterized by passionate brushstrokes accounted for the better part of the exhibition. Four posters commissioned by a publisher during his younger years as well as preparatory sketches provide us with abundant sources to observe his art world.

Especially striking are the people depicted in his paintings. In “Portrait of the Dancer Choi Seung-hee” (1954), Korea’s first contemporary dancer and dance theorist Choi Seung-hee is dressed in traditional hanbok, holding a red fan. She was an internationally-renowned dancer but was later purged by the North Korean regime. Other portraits include the 1953 painting of Han Seol-ya (1900–1976), who had prepared the groundwork for North Korea’s juche (self-reliance) literature, and the 1954 portrait of Won Honggu (1888–1970), an ornithologist. His son Won Pyong-oh, also an ornithologist, who lived in South Korea, tagged a bird and released Four Halls, Four themes it over the DMZ in an attempt to inform his father in the North that The retrospective displayed 200 works, including oils, etchings, he was alive in the South. Another impressive work is the portrait of lithographs, and drawings, organized into four themes: PanoraRussian writer Boris Pasternak, painted in 1947. ma of Leningrad, Portraits with Souls, Journey to Pyongyang, and Actually, this is not the first time that Byun Wol-ryong’s paintings Landscapes of Diaspora. As the first exhibition for the Korean public have been displayed in Korea. The “Liberation and Division” section to view Byun Wol-ryong’s world of art, the format traced his footof the Centennial of Korean Art, held at the MMCA in 2005 to comsteps throughout life. The docents, rather than explaining the artmemorate the 60th anniversary of national liberation, showed a few of his paintings in a quiet corner. As a student of Korean conSome of his other Russian portraits also have Korean inscriptions. temporary art history at the time, it was my Who were these notes for? Did he hope that someday his paintings first introduction to Byun’s works. Some would be recognized in both North and South Korea? of those works overlapped with this year’s exhibits, including the portraits of artist Kim Yong-jun (1904–1967) and novelist Ri Ki-yong (1895–1984), a pioneer of KAPF (Federation of Korean Proletarian Artists) literature, as well as the etchings “Kumgang Mountain” and “Moran Peak.”

Byun did not produce portraits of famous people only. He also painted an anonymous girl in a red shirt wearing a shy smile, and a Korean student wearing a white dress shirt, as if to portray hope for the future. “Portrait of A.S. Hanshura, the Fisherman and Socialist Labor Hero” depicts a worker as a hero. These paintings are typical of socialist realism, which sought to depict subjects not necessarily the way they are, but how they should be.

The family painting, in which his wife Cerbizova and his sons Alexandre and Sergey and daughter Olga as young children, is full 2 of warmth, while the portrait of his mothKOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 47

©National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art

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er makes viewers pause for a closer look. She passed away when Byun was young, and it was only in 1985, five years before his own death, that he decided to paint her. Her portrait was hanging on the wall in the middle of his studio and brought to Seoul for the exhibition.

The “Journey to Pyongyang” section had scenes of North Korea, including Sonjuk Bridge in Kaesong, Taedongmun (Great East Gate) and Moranbong (Moran Peak) in Pyongyang, and people doing laundry along the banks of the Taedong River. There is also a painting of a handsome pine tree. Some of these were painted during Byun’s stay in North Korea, but many were completed after his return to the Soviet Union, based on the sketches he had made there.

The “Landscapes of Diaspora” section featured the various places that Byun visited in Europe, Leningrad (now Saint Petersburg) after the 1960s, and Primorsky Krai, to which he returned every year. These paintings are notably serene and calm, suggesting that as a professor of a prestigious art school, he enjoyed the privilege of overseas travel and was able to spend his later years in relative comfort. However, his etchings, such as “Rain (Willow Tree)” (1971) and “Beach in Vladivostok” (1972), which depict turbulent winds as they ravage the branches of trees, appear to be expressing an unspoken message.

Byun’s sentiments toward his hometown in the Russian Far East and his fatherland, where he only briefly lived and never returned, seem to be silently conveyed in the signatures and titles in small Korean characters found in the corners of his paintings. In “North Korea Wholeheartedly Welcomes Koreans from Japan” (1960), which depicts the repatriation of Korean-Japanese to North Korea, an inscription in small letters reads: “I am painting in Leningrad with my mind on Chongjin, which I have never had a chance to visit.”

Some of his other Russian portraits also have Korean inscriptions.

Who were these notes for? Did he hope that someday his paintings 48 KOREANA summer 2016

would be recognized in both North and South Korea? Byun’s final words before his death from a stroke that he had suffered in 1985 were: “Write my name on my gravestone in Korean.” His request was honored with the clear engraving of “Byun Wol-ryong” in Korean on his tombstone when he was buried in Severnoye Kladbishche Cemetery in Saint Petersburg.

Afterthoughts The large-scale retrospective was made possible by the efforts of art critic Moon Young-dae who, upon discovering Byun Wolryong’s artwork, conducted research on him and worked hard to make him known among Koreans. Moon went to Russia in 1994, four years after the normalization of relations between Korea and Russia, to study and was introduced to Pen Varlen’s art there. He was told by his advisor that Byun was Kareiski (Goryeoin, or ethnic Koreans in Russia and Central Asia) who had passed away a few years earlier. He searched for Byun’s family and finally was able to track down his second son Sergey, daughter Olga, and wife Cerbizova. Sergey had taken over his father’s studio, where many of Byun’s works were stored. Moon devoted the next 20 years to introducing Byun to Koreans. He has published two books: “Korean-Russian Artist Byun Wol-ryong and Letters from North Korea” (2004) and “Byun Wol-ryong: A Lost Genius Painter” (2012).

The contemporary art history of Korea after liberation from Japanese rule in 1945 has not been able to uncover all the missing links. The Pen Varlen Retrospective is thus a big step forward in helping to fill this void. However, the exhibition has left much to be desired. For example, few large-scale works that are representative of Byun’s art world were on view, except for “Planting Rice in Korea.” Noteworthy paintings like “The Pacific Fleet at Chongjin Port,” housed at the Central Navy Museum in Saint Petersburg, didn’t make it to Seoul; instead, it was shown in a miniature rep-

1 “Beach in Vladivostok” (1972). Etching, 36.7 x 90 cm. Prohibited from entering North Korea, Byun Wol-ryong visited Vladisvostok where he was born almost every year.

2 “Self-portrait” (1963). Oil on canvas, 75 x 60 cm. Although Byun painted numerous portraits of others, this is his only self-portrait, albeit unfinished.

©National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art

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lica panel as part of the introductory timeline. To gain sufficient knowledge about Byun’s activities in the Russian art community as well as his influence on North Korea’s art history, we need to be more proactive in tracking down not only his masterpieces housed in major Russian institutions, but also the other works that are only known from photographs and whose whereabouts remain unknown. And then, we need to consider seriously how this artist and his works can be properly accommodated into Korea’s contemporary art history. The way that people responded to his paintings at the retrospective has convinced me that we have taken the first step in the right direction.

legend of 100 years — Other Masters The exhibition was the first in a series of three retrospectives organized by the MMCA to mark the centennial of the birth of three modern Korean master painters. It will be followed by two others — for Lee Jung-seob (1916–1956, aka Yi Chung-sop), from June 3 to October 3, 2016; and Yoo Young-kuk (1916–2002), from October 21, 2016 to March 1, 2017. Lee is famous for his use of the unique medium of silver foil and familiar forms, as well as his short and tumultuous life story. Yoo Young-kuk, who studied painting at Bunka Gakuen [Cultural Institution] in Tokyo along with Lee, is deemed a pioneer of Korean abstract art.

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GuARDIAn OF HERItAGE

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Ancient zelkova trees look over the spacious backyard covered with tidy rows of over 800 crocks at Myeongjae House in Nonsan, South Chuncheong Province. When the soy sauce inside them ripens, bees buzz over the crocks, attracted by the aroma emanating through the breathing earthenware jars. The crocks containing the 300-year-old heirloom soy sauce are separately stored on the crock stand at the back of the inner quarters for women.

Yun Gyeong-nam Keeps 300-Year-Old Family Recipe for Soy Sauce

chung Jae-suk Editorial Writer and Senior Culture Reporter, The JoongAng Ilbo Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

the quiet backyard of the inner quarters of the old traditional Korean house is permeated by the lofty ideals of confucian scholars of yore.

One unique feature of the backyard is the row upon row of many pottery crocks arranged neatly in a space that might otherwise have been filled with well-groomed garden trees and ornamental plants. In these crocks, the family has been fermenting its soy sauce for the past 300 years, renewed every year by adding fresh sauce to the previous batch.

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t is a masterpiece of a house situated on an auspicious location.

Blending seamlessly with its natural surroundings, Myeongjae House is a venerable old residence in Gyochon village in Nonsan, South Chungcheong Province, where the family descending from Yun Jeung (1624–1714), an eminent Confucian scholar and upright politician of the mid-Joseon era, has lived for generations. An exemplary traditional upper-class house of the Joseon Dynasty, it sits at the foot of a round hillock, described in geomancy as “a land figure that resembles a Taoist fairy playing the geomungo zither.”

The house was carefully built according to geomantic principles in ways to regulate the gi, or energy flow. The three majestic zelkova trees on the edge of the house are said to have been planted to make up for any unbalanced energy flows from either side of the hill. The large square pond in front of the house to its west is also distinctive with a round manmade islet on it, placed closer to one side in order to prevent evil spirits from entering the house through the open space.

Rich, Sweet Flavor of Soy Sauce There is yet another feature of this house that does not fail to impress any visitor. Offering a glimpse of the history of this unusual house, over 800 crocks are lined up in orderly rows in the spacious yard leading up to the hillock overlooked by the 300-year-old zelko-

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va trees. The yard is enclosed by a low fence to limit access.

The 70-year-old daughter of the clan head family, Yun Gyeongnam, caresses the crocks one by one every day with her eyes. As a child, she grew up watching her mother and grandmother make soy sauce every year and carefully prepare traditional dishes all year round. When her mother, Yang Chang-ho, who is the family’s 11th-generation eldest daughter-in-law, decided to retire from the kitchen due to her advanced age, the family recipe was passed down to her.

“Our soy sauce has been handed down in these crocks since 1709, when this house was built, so we call it our heirloom sauce,” Yun explained.

The crocks with the “seed soy sauce” are placed separately on the crock stand at the rear of the inner quarters for women.

Renewed every year by adding newly prepared batches of sauce, the crocks may be said to contain three hundred years’ time. The taste of the slightly viscous sauce that was offered by Yun in a small gourd was deep and intriguing. Less salty and sweeter. The hue was purplish.

Yun talked about days long past: “When soy sauce was boiled down in our house, I’ve heard, the smell would spread out so far away that people in nearby villages would catch a whiff of the aroma.”

“In the past, workers in the field sharing labor with my family were offered, during their break, not rice wine but a bowl of cold water with a dash of our soy sauce. It was an excellent drink for relieving their thirst and cooling them down.”

The heirloom soy sauce was often used as a remedy for minor ailments. People from neighboring villages would come to the house to get a small amount for their relatives with stomach problems. Cold water laced with this soy sauce is said to be a remedy for an upset stomach. One possible explanation might be that beneficial enzymes in the fermented soybeans can help to cleanse the digestive system. In those days, there was always a shortage of small dipping dishes in the kitchen because they were used constantly for visitors who needed a dose of the curative sauce.

1 Since Yun’s family started to sell their soy sauce and soybean paste, they have used 100 sacks of soybeans annually to make blocks of cooked soybeans (meju ) around the tenth lunar month every year.

2 Boiled soybeans are pounded to be shaped into rectangular blocks of mash, which are dried for a week on the floor lined with straw and then suspended under the eaves for about a month. Well-dried, the meju is immersed in brine in a crock to ferment over several months into soy sauce and soybean paste.

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Alchemy of Salt, Water, and care The most important annual task for the eldest daughter-in-law of this family has been to oversee the first round of the lengthy process of making soy sauce — boiling seven large sacks of soybeans, pounding them in a stone mortar, and shaping the mash into small blocks — in the tenth lunar month. This process requires a tremendous amount of physical labor, but the family has adhered to the old ways, except for the use of a millstone instead of a mortar for mashing the boiled soybeans.

Making blocks of the mashed soybeans (meju) that would ferment into soy sauce requires an enormous amount of care. The soybean blocks are placed on the floor, lined with straw, and allowed to dry for about a week. They are then tied with straw twine and hung from the eaves for about a month until covered with golden mold, and dried again in direct sunlight for about 10 more days.

The second round of the process begins on the first or second gabo day (31st day of the sexagenary cycle, which is believed to be free from all evil spirits) of each year, when the dried blocks of meju are stacked inside a crock, with the gaps tightly filled in with bits of meju. Brine is poured in and then a generous layer of salt is added.

The crock’s mouth is sealed with a sheet of linen before being capped with a lid. Later, the fermented content of the crock is separated into solid matter and liquid, soybean paste (doenjang) and soy sauce (ganjang ), respectively. Usually, the top layer of blackened salt is removed and the liquid drained off about 40 days after the meju blocks were immersed in brine, but this family waits for about six months before doing this. The freshly made soy sauce is combined with the heirloom sauce to create a flavor with added depth.

It is the family’s custom to decorate the mouth of each crock with a piece of paper cut into the shape of a traditional Korean sock (beoseon ), which is attached upside down and marked with the words “honey crock” (kkuldok). This custom arose from their hopes for the new soy sauce to taste as sweet as honey. The unusual shape of the paper comes, some say, from the fact that the most KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 53

1 1 Delicacies unique to this household, the rice cake soup (left) and soy sauce kimchi are seasoned with the heirloom soy sauce.

2 Grilled to a golden brown and dipped in the heirloom soy sauce, cylinder-shaped rice cakes make an excellent snack.

3 Yun Gyeong-nam seasons her soy sauce kimchi with the homemade condiment.

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durable paper item found in an ordinary household in the past was a sock-making pattern.

The secret of the heirloom soy sauce is, above all, the salt. The family has only used the highest-quality sun-dried sea salt produced in the west coast of the country. The salt grains should be translucent and crisp like freshly milled rice, trickling smoothly through fingers when squeezed in the fist.

The second secret is the water, drawn from the well dug in the courtyard, which is so tasty as to be known to distant villages. The sweet water enhances the flavor of the soy sauce.

“Some people still come to us for a glass of this water. In the past, workers in the field sharing labor with my family were offered, during their break, not rice wine but a bowl of cold water with a dash of our soy sauce. It was an excellent drink for relieving their thirst and cooling them down,” said Yun. The third secret is the great care put into every step of the work.

Following the advice of their ancestors to “treat your soy sauce as you would an irritable mother-in-law,” they put their utmost care into every detail in order to produce perfect soy sauce.

Soy Sauce Kimchi and Eggplant Kimchi Soy sauce is the key ingredient of the special delicacies that this family has enjoyed for generations: soy sauce kimchi and eggplant kimchi. The former is made with shredded radish, cabbage, water parsley, green garlic, chestnut, and pears, soaked in water seasoned with soy sauce, which makes the kimchi spicy and refreshing. Unlike typical types of kimchi, the eggplant version is made by parboiling rather than pickling the vegetable. Eggplants are cut into chunks with deep cross cuts on one end, and briefly immersed in boiling water. The cross cuts are stuffed with a mixture of chives, garlic, ginger, and red pepper powder seasoned with the heirloom soy sauce. According to the yin-yang classification of foods, the eggplant is a “cool” food and the chives are “warm,” while the soy sauce serves to harmonize these contrasts.

Yun recalls: “As a child, I was so accustomed to having so many visitors in our house that [now] I don’t panic when I have to receive a large group of guests. I only regret that I haven’t learned how to make all the delicacies that my grandmother and mother seemed to make so effortlessly. Specifically, my mother used to make beautiful flowers with an assortment of vegetables that were tightly bound with parboiled strands of water parsley and served to our guests, together with a dip of red pepper paste and vinegar. I saw her making this so many times that I assumed I would be able to make it myself someday, but now no one in my family knows how to make the dish properly.”

In Myeongjae House, the layout of the women’s quarters reflects the family’s respect for women and their housework. The kitchen is spacious and the distance from the kitchen to the men’s quarters is relatively short for such a big house. The doors of the kitchen open up to all sides, and the wall separating the women’s and men’s

quarters is low so that women can observe guests in the outer quarters.

Yun Gyeong-nam remembers well her grandmother’s pride in the family soy sauce: “She used to hang around the condiment storeroom behind the kitchen, saying ‘I’ve just checked how well our seed soy sauce is doing in there.’ When she said this, the smile on her face warmed my heart. I think such pride has made women in this family happy.” The family allowed its female members to openly express their opinions and there was no evident gender discrimination or oppression. Yun’s accounts may bring to mind the old Korean saying: “The family that makes sweet soy sauce will enjoy much good fortune.”

“Once, a friend came to visit me with her granddaughter. With nothing else to offer to the young girl, I served pieces of white rice cake (garaetteok) with soy sauce for dipping,” Yun said. “I was worried because she was a kid who loved fast food, but she took a bite and then another. Soon enough, she finished off the serving and said, ‘This is not like soy sauce. It is sweet.’ My friend was also amazed.”

Hwang Hye-seong, a foremost researcher of traditional Korean royal court cuisine, encouraged the Yun family to commercialize their soy sauce and soybean paste, which had been consumed by the family alone. After hearing about the family’s heirloom soy sauce, she had an opportunity to taste it, and then asked, “Why don’t you try to sell this amazing sauce?” Yun was hesitant at first, but decided a few years ago to commercialize some of their condiments, bolstered by the effusive praise from those who had tried them. The brand name for the products was derived from the nickname of the house, “Gyodong,” which means “the house to the east of the county school.” The family’s soy sauce is now sold in 900 ml and 500 ml bottles, and soybean paste in 450 gram and 900 gram jars. The soy sauce has proven to be more popular than the soybean paste.

commercial Venture Until a few years ago, the family had made meju before preparing kimchi for the winter. But these days, they make kimchi first and then the soybean blocks, because the work volume has grown much larger, boiling more than one hundred 70-kg sacks of soybeans. On the day for this work, the entire village is filled with excitement, as if for some festive occasion. As the soy sauce ripens, bees will buzz around the crocks, attracted by the aroma seeping through the micropores of the breathing earthenware crocks.

“Sometimes, I talk to the crocks. I inspect them one by one, and place pebbles on the lids. The number of pebbles is a secret code that is known only to me,” said Yun, adding, “My mission is to maintain the flavor that my ancestors have handed down to me generation after generation, and to share it with ever more people. It would never be enough, but I put all my heart and spend all my time on making these condiments.”

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 55

tAlES OF tWO KOREAS

BuIlDInG KnOWlEDGE BASE FOR A ‘MIRAclE On tHE tAEDOnG RIVER’

Kim Hak-soon Journalist and Visiting Professor, School of Media and Communications, Korea University Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

the researchers at the north Korea Development Institute (nKDI) are preparing “gifts” for their hometowns that they have left behind in north Korea. they believe that they are paving the way to national unification through their research activities. they see their work as practical knowledge building as foundation for development by gathering and analyzing microeconomic data on north Korean regions.

56 KOREANA summer 2016

A

large sign greets visitors to the fourth-floor penthouse of a building on Chungmu-ro street in the Jung-gu district, central Seoul.

This is home to the fledgling think tank named the North Korea Development Institute (NKDI). The sign’s message reads: “Research and development on North Korea is the best gift we can give to our hometowns we’ve left behind.” A blow-up photo of Cheonji, the crater lake at the top of Mt. Paektu, draws one’s eyes upon entering the office of the institute’s director, Kim Byungwook. A Google map of Musan County, a coal mining town near the Tuman River along the North KoreaChina border, hangs on the wall of an adjoining office.

Musan is the hometown of Jeon Seung-chul, a North Korean defector, whose experience of adjusting to life in the South was made into a film, “The Journals of Musan,” in 2011.

Defector Intellectuals The NKDI was founded by a group of intellectuals who had defected from North Korea, in order to support the development of small and medium-sized cities in the North. Its founding was initiated by Kim Byungwook, the first North Korean defector who has earned a doctoral degree in the South. The institute was registered with the Ministry of Strategy and Finance in December 2014, another first in the defector community, where most other organizations are registered with the Ministry of Unification. As befits a think tank, the NKDI boasts the most highly educated members among all defector groups.

In late 2012, ten North Korean defectors met at Hanawon, the government-run settlement support center for North Korean refugees. They agreed to conduct research on development strategies for the North so that, upon unification, they could return to their hometowns and help their compatriots to enjoy the quality of life that they have come to experience in the South. The following year, they organized an academic club that consisted of defectors with master’s or doctoral degrees.

They have a solid dream. With their academic backgrounds and capabilities, these North Korean defectors believe they have the opportunities, resources, and energy needed to create a storehouse of knowledge to guide the economic reconstruction of their hometowns.

Just as the Korea Development Institute (KDI) played a key role in the making of the “Miracle on the Han River” in the 1960s and 70s, they intend to develop the NKDI as a think tank at the forefront of efforts to create a “Mira-

cle on the Taedong River” in the North.

“It’s no exaggeration to say that defectors have so far been used merely as tools or resources for North Korean studies by South Korean academics. But it’s now necessary for us, defectors with more education, to take the initiative and conduct our own research,” Kim said, explaining his motivation. “We have the most accurate information on the North. We will put our heads together to make the NKDI a top-notch think tank as far as North Korean studies are concerned.”

Kim’s wife, Kim Yeong-hee, is also a member of the NKDI research staff.

She also serves as the chief North Korean economic studies researcher at the Korea Development Bank’s inter-Korean projects division. The Kims crossed the Tuman River with their two young children in August 2002. They had been marginalized by the hierarchical structure of North Korean society, where only the elite class can get ahead. Kim is a graduate of Pyongyang University of Mechanical Engineering, but he lived in Nampo, South Pyongan Province and Chongjin, North Hamgyong Province after being ousted from Pyongyang in the early 1990s, just because his family did not have an elite status and his relatives were known to live in China. “I decided to escape from the North for concerns about my children’s future rather than my own career,” Kim said.

After settling down in Seoul, Kim and his wife both earned master’s degrees from the Graduate School of North Korean Studies at Kyungnam University and doctorates from Dongguk University’s Department of North Korean Studies.

They were the first defector couple to receive PhDs on North Korean studies in South Korea.

‘project 185’ The NKDI is composed of 20 researchers — five with PhDs, 12 doctoral candidates, and three candidates for master’s degrees — 13 of whom are women.

Most of them are in their 40s and also have full-time or part-time jobs outside of the NKDI. They come to the institute on weekends for research activities or discussions, while also working as vice principals at alternative schools, teachers, or office workers. Their specialties range from economics and military studies to pedagogy, sociology, political science, and culture and arts. Only three of the staff, including Kim Byung-wook, work full time at the institute. Interestingly, a Japanese national lends support to the institute as an outside director.

The NKDI is currently focusing on studying 185 “microregions,” which include 38 municipal districts and 147 counties throughout North Korea. It plans to launch 12 regional research teams, which will study the cities and provinces in these 185 regions, within this year.

“It’s essential to narrow the regional gap between the two Koreas to achieve national unification,” Kim said. “To this end, we’re Project 185 is the North planning to gather basic geographic information that Korea Development will be vital for the development of small and mediInstitute’s core program. um-sized cities in the North. For now, we will launch The think tank is building up an extensive database Project 185, a program to develop a spatial and geoon all small and mediumgraphic database for all of the 185 cities and counsized cities in the North ties. This database will provide vital fundamental data through this project, as a basis for planning on which to work out development strategies for the balanced development North Korean regions before and after unification. For of post-unification North Korean regions. example, just as South Korea’s coal town of Jeongseon KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 57

1 The doorplate at the North Korea Development Institute, located in Chungmu-ro, central Seoul.

2 NKDI researchers relax after a lengthy discussion on how to carry out a research program titled “The present status and future of open markets in North Korea,” assigned to their institute by the Presidential Committee for Unification Preparation this year. Kim Byung-wook, the first director of the think tank, is at far left.

1

in Gangwon Province has been turned into a tourist destination, it’ll be possible to develop coal towns in the North in similar ways.”

The gathering of basic data on North Korean cities and counties is an essential task, he says. Regional studies can be meaningful only when past, present, and future data about individual regions are available.

“Our researchers aren’t doing research on their own hometowns simply out of academic curiosity,” Kim noted. “Our research is a means to show our persecuted compatriots living on the other side of the Demilitarized Zone what kind of life we are leading in South Korea. We also want the public to know about what we are really doing.”

Achievements and Future plans The NKDI has laid the foundation for the study of urgent issues by holding four seminars in cooperation with Kyungnam University’s Institute for Far Eastern Studies and the Korea Research Institute for Human Settlements (KRIHS) last year. The themes of the seminars were “Ways to gather fundamental data needed for the development of small and medium-sized cities in North Korea,” “Ways to build a database needed for the development of small and medium-sized cities in North Korea,” “Ways to develop small and mediumsized cities in North Korea,” and “How to promote infrastructure development for the residents in our hometowns.”

Research results have been published in a series of seven volumes, titled “Research for the Future of Our Hometowns.” They are “Investment in Hamhung, a Second Pyongyang and a City of Chemical Industry”

by Wi Yeong-geum, a doctoral student at the Graduate School of Politics and Policy, Kyonggi University; “Investment in Sunchon, South Pyongan Province as a Logistics Hub of the Korean Peninsula” by Hong Seong58 KOREANA summer 2016

won, a doctoral student at the University of North Korean Studies; “Investment in Chongjin, a Hub of the Iron and Steel Industry in Northeast Asia” by Kim Hyeok, a doctoral candidate at the Academy of Korean Studies; “Investment in Undok County, a Land of Black Gold” by Lee Hye-ran, a doctoral student at Sungkyunkwan University; “Stimulating Tourism to Mt. Paektu and Development of Hyesan” by Eom Hyeon-suk, a researcher who has completed a doctoral course at the University of North Korean Studies; “Development of Kyongsong County, a Hot Spring Tourism Hub” by Yun Seung-bi, a doctoral student at Kyung Hee University; and “A Vision for Haeju Seen through its Development Potential”

by Kwak Myeong-il, a researcher who has completed a doctoral course at the University of North Korean Studies.

The NKDI conducted research last year at the request of government agencies and private organizations under such themes as “Analysis of construction technologies in the North,” “Strategies for infrastructure development in Musan based on spatial information,” “Analysis of the current situation of the North,” and “Securing a beachhead for evangelization in Wonsan based on spatial information.” This year’s schedule is filled with various projects on subjects including “The present state and future of open markets in the North,” commissioned by the Presidential Committee for Unification Preparation, “Changes that occurred to the Catholic Church in the North after liberation,” and “Research on how to secure a beachhead for evangelization in the North.” In addition, the institute is also planning to gather basic data on Hyesan.

As of late 2015, 19 North Korean defectors held doctoral degrees and another 60 had master’s degrees. Kim plans to add more substance to the institute’s research on the development of infrastructure in the North by encouraging these defector intellectuals to proactively engage in North Korea-related research. He also envisions international programs to support the development of the North, if things turn out well for the institute.

Hurdles to Overcome This year, the NKDI hit a few snags. First, the international community and South Korea imposed sanctions on the North for its fourth nuclear test and longrange rocket launch. There have been huge repercussions from the suspension of inter-Korean cooperation projects, including the closing of the Kaesong Industrial Complex and halting of the Rajin–Khasan logistics project between the North and South Korea and Russia. Inter-Korean exchanges have been frozen, as the North Korean regime also declared all inter-Korean agreements on economic cooperation and exchange projects void.

The stalled inter-Korean relations have created negative consequences for now, but the NKDI researchers are not demoralized. To the contrary, they regard the current situation as an opportunity for them to build up their own capabilities. They intend to strive for even higher standards, believing that the tense inter-Korean relations can make the knowledge accumulated by NKDI even more valuable in the future. To this end, the institute hosted an internation-

They have a solid dream. With their academic backgrounds and capabilities, these North Korean defectors believe they have the opportunities, resources, and energy needed to create a storehouse of knowledge to guide the economic reconstruction of their hometowns. al symposium on the theme, “North Korea in the wake of the imposition of UN sanctions for its nuclear weapons development,” in March as its first-quarter seminar for this year.

Biases and misunderstandings held by South Korean government officials and opinion leaders are huge hurdles that must be overcome. Typical misperceptions include that everything in the North, including its urban infrastructure, needs to be rebuilt after unification of the two Koreas; defector researchers are not qualified to conduct research on the North because they have been away from their homeland for many years; and the NKDI is only duplicating data already possessed by the National Intelligence Service. Furthermore, despite its clearly different areas of emphasis from the Korea Research Institute for Human Settlements, there are some who believe that the NKDI’s research projects overlap those of the KRIHS, a government-funded think tank that specializes in the study of macroeconomic policies.

Kim believes that due to such widespread prejudices, no decision has yet been reached on the NKDI’s

request to the National Research Foundation of Korea for a research support fund of 200 million won. He now hopes that the government will provide medium and long-term support to Project 185.

Although he has now lived in the South for 14 years, Kim still finds it difficult to determine whether South Koreans are merely paying lip service to his cause. He doesn’t know if they really intend to help him when they say, “Give me time to think what kind of help I can give you,” or “Let’s meet some time in the future,” or “Let’s have dinner together some day.” North Koreans, he points out, usually use straightforward expressions rather than communicate in a roundabout style as South Koreans often do.

In spite of their persistent financial difficulties, NKDI researchers are gratified by the support they have received from various individuals. Yang Bong-jin, former president of Hyundai Energy and Resources, provides rent-free office space for their use. Seoul’s Jung-gu District Office is paying their utility bills.

And Kim Tae-sik, president of CSIN Tech, has donated tens of millions of won to support their research. Kim Byung-wook lifts the spirits of the researchers by having everyone keep their focus on the big prize: “We’re now nearly emptyhanded. But let’s pave the way for the development of our hometowns with unwavering determination.”

“And though thy beginning was small, yet thy latter end should greatly increase” (Job 8:7). This hopeful verse from the Bible sprang to my mind as I was leaving Kim’s office.

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 59

In lOVE WItH KOREA

IrInA KOrGUn RuSSIAn EcOnOMISt AnD lOVER OF KOREAn FOlK pAIntInG Kim Hyun-sook Freelance Writer; CEO, K-Movie Love Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

professor Irina Korgun, a Seoul resident for eight years now, often takes the subway. As a researcher of the Korean economy, she finds it the perfect place to observe the vigorous lives of Korean people. One day, she hopes to work for an international organization as a Korean economy specialist.

60 KOREANA summer 2016

P

rofessor Irina Korgun appeared in front of the main building of Hankuk University of Foreign Studies at the exact appointed time. Perhaps it was due to her petite figure, but she hardly stood out in a crowd of Korean students and faculty. She held a vitamin drink in one hand, which a student had given her in a previous class.

“He just finished his military service. Russian professors are very authoritative, but I find the professor-student relationship in Korean universities to be much closer. In Korea, professors have to be good teachers of course, but they also provide personal and academic guidance,” she says.

Field-based and People-oriented Research Korgun had served as a research professor at the Institute of Russian Studies at Hankuk University of Foreign Studies for four years before she was appointed last year as an assistant professor in the school’s Russian language department. Now in her second semester, she is teaching advanced Russian using mostly economic texts.

“Graduate students who are writing dissertations related to the Korean and Russian economies, as well as students who want to study in Russia, come to me for help or to ask questions. Graduates of the Russian language department have the highest employment rate at HUFS,” she says, beaming with satisfaction.

Her office is filled with ornaments featuring images of Chekhov, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Pushkin. She notes that Koreans’ love for Russian literature is surprisingly deep, mentioning that her favorite book is “The Brothers Karamazov.”

“Koreans relate to Russian literature because both Koreans and Russians share the sentiment of han, or deep sorrow. American literature is rooted in optimism, whereas Russian and Korean literature is based on sadness,” she says.

As another similarity between the two peoples, Professor Korgun pointed out kimchi. After the fall harvest, Russians also pickle their cabbage, which is often used to cook a hearty cabbage soup called shchi.

Quite uncommon for a Russian, Korgun majored in the Korean economy. She was studying East Asian economies when she was especially drawn to Korea, which had grown rapidly on the back of its export-oriented policies. She went on to write her doctorate thesis at Saint Petersburg State University in 2010.

“Korea’s economic growth and development is an interesting

topic in many ways. Much research has already been done by Korean economists, but I consider foreigners’ research just as important. There must be differences between internal and external views,” she says.

Professor Korgun is currently studying the role of foreign aid in Korea’s economic development and the Koreans’ attitude and response as aid recipients. Her area of interest also includes Japan’s influence on Korea’s economic development. For example, the Japanese built railways during their occupation of Korea in the early half of the 20th century, and she is studying whether this benefited or harmed Korea.

On the day of our interview she was adding the final touches to the Korean section of a book about Russia-bound foreign direct investment, two days before the deadline. The British publisher Routledge had signed up with five experts on each country for the book, which is scheduled to be published in November this year.

As an economist, Professor Korgun’s research methods are based on sociocultural observation. This sets her work apart from other Russian papers which are mainly based on written materials.

She looks at the Korean economy through the lens of “place” and “people” as she conducts her research here in Korea, in the Korean language, among Korean economists.

Korgun takes the subway to observe people. She laughs to herself about her habit of slyly peeking at text messages of passengers sitting next to her. She finds clues to understanding Korea from the text messages people exchange with family members, as well as store signboards and the culture centers of department stores. She writes columns for a Korean daily from time to time, and her observations and experiences about Koreans’ anti-Japanese sentiments, anti-chaebol attitudes, perceptions of China and the United States, the power of the Korean Wave, and Korea-Russia economic cooperation come mainly from her interaction with the people around her.

She is always prepared with ways to break the ice and start a conversation. In the same vein, she has never turned down an offer to preside over the Russian language debate contest hosted by HUFS every year.

“I know Koreans do not like chaebol much,” she observes. “But I am interested in how they run their department stores. There is a small gallery at Lotte Department Store in Myeong-dong. It felt rather classy to see an exhibition there, a show of prints by Spanish artists including Picasso. Department stores have culture centers that offer free or affordable concerts and classes. Their ulti-

After serving as a research professor at the Institute of Russian Studies at Hankuk University of Foreign Studies since 2011, Irina Korgun was appointed assistant professor of the Russian language department at the same school last year.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 61

mate goal is to lure in more customers, but I could detect a certain respect for people. I see more community centers, libraries, and welfare facilities for the physically challenged and the elderly today, as compared to when I first came to Korea.”

Dedication to Studying Korean Professor Korgun loves Seoul, especially the city on weekends.

“It feels like Moscow or Paris when I am drinking coffee in a downtown café in Seoul on the weekend. I can easily enjoy Russian ballet and performances by famous orchestras here in this city. When I ride a cab, the taxi drivers play Rachmaninov or Tchaikovsky for me.

How can I not love Seoul?” she says.

It was Christmas evening in 2003 when she first set foot in this country to learn Korean at Yonsei University’s Korean Language Institute. She recalls: “It was a beautiful day. The whole world looked like it was a brightly lit Christmas tree. I walked around the downtown area mingling with the crowd and bought myself a Baskin Robbins ice cream. That was the first time I had ever tried that ice cream.”

From then until 2007, she came back every vacation to enroll in Korean classes. In 2007, she received a research grant from the Korea Foundation and stayed here for a year while preparing her doctorate dissertation. Around the time she received her degree, she noticed a job offer at the Institute of Russian Studies at the Hankuk University of Foreign Studies for two research professors — one American and one Russian. In 2011, she applied and was selected for the post.

“The Russian language has a sentence structure that is directly opposite from Korean. In Korean, the verb comes last. I had to completely change the linguistic rules that were in my head and start from basic grammar. The honorifics were the hardest part,” she says.

Now almost fluent, she adds, “I think I was able to learn Korean better because there were no other Russians to talk to. I also had to get used to the sophisticated language that the Korean researchers were using.”

An Economist in Love with Folk Painting Korgun was raised by architect parents. She was a bright student who loved art, music, and ballet. She devoted herself to her studies in junior and senior high school, even receiving private tutoring. Now, her English is a bit better than her Korean and she is also learning Chinese.

She defines herself as someone who is constantly on the move: “To me, going places is very important. Taking a walk, traveling, flying on a plane — that is me.”

Korgun has lived in Korea for eight years now. She has spent four months in Japan and seven months in the UK as a researcher.

62 KOREANA summer 2016

She says her “nomadic fate” is written in her saju, or the “four pillars of destiny” used in traditional Korean fortunetelling.

She had her fortune read after she applied for a research position in Paris and London in 2013. She sought out a famous fortuneteller, who said it was her destiny to “live like flowing water,” moving from one place to another, all her life. She was also told that economics suits her well. “I couldn’t agree more. The more I study, the more interesting economics is,” she says.

For Korgun, one of the joys of living in Korea is folk painting. She loves traditional motifs like the crane and lotus flower. Probably due to the influence of her architect parents, she developed an interest in color from a very young age. She has attended Korean traditional painting classes in Gangnam and produced five large works, which have been exhibited. One of her paintings was framed and shipped to her advisor at Saint Petersburg State University. She also sent her works to her mother and sister. Another is hanging in her home in Seoul.

The day I met Professor Korgun was March 5, three days before World Women’s Day. She notes that the way World Women’s Day is celebrated distinguishes capitalist nations from socialist ones. In other words, socialist societies tend to place a lot of importance on the day whereas capitalist societies do not. She showed me congratulatory messages she had received from home that morning, saying, “I am happy to be born a woman.”

“Since the Revolution, hardly any Russian women stay at home as full-time housewives. We often see female plant managers at factories producing machinery. My mother went to work all her life.

I remember how I used to wait at kindergarten for my mother to pick me up after work.”

Professor Korgun believes that Korean women have a lower social status than their Russian counterparts. Smiling, she notes, “Almost all the participants at most academic conferences are men.”

As a keen observer of Korea-Russia economic cooperation with a researcher’s perspective, I wondered how she estimated the viability of the plans to build a trans-Siberian gas pipe that connects to Korea. She was skeptical: “Trade volume is down because of the weak ruble. Korea-Russia energy cooperation has lost steam. Out of Korea’s total gas imports, Russia only accounts for 4 percent. It is because each party has a completely different agenda in bilateral energy cooperation. I think bilateral trade should move away from gas toward construction and medicine.”

With a disclaimer that “the possibilities are low,” she says that one day she wants to work as a Korean economy specialist in an international organization like the UN, OECD, or UNCTAD. Then, laughing, she asks, “There are so many Korean economy experts who are Korean. What are the odds of recruiting a Korean economy expert from Russia?”

In her spare time Professor Korgun takes classes in traditional Korean folk painting. She recently took part in an exhibition with five of her own works.

“It feels like Moscow or Paris when I am drinking coffee in a downtown café in Seoul on the weekend. I can easily enjoy Russian ballet and performances by famous orchestras here in this city. When I ride a cab, the taxi drivers play Rachmaninov or Tchaikovsky for me. How can I not love Seoul?”

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 63

ON THE ROAD

Mokpo WheRe LIFe BeCOMeS YOuR MuSe Gwak Jae-gu Poet Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

Once a key base for the Japanese during colonial rule, Mokpo is a harbor city that nurses the scars of Korea’s modern history. Certainly, most Koreans have special feelings for this city. From the top of Mt. Yudal, a picturesque rocky mountain standing 228 meters above sea level, the city center steeped in the atmosphere of old spreads out below with the sea shimmering beyond.

64 KOREANA summer 2016

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 65

T

he night train heads for Mokpo. Outside the windows, the night villages go rushing past. The village lights, wet with raindrops, look like bluish flowers. Is there any story as sad and beautiful and mystical as village lights?

In the Night Train I took my first trip when I was eight years old. Thanks to that short trip I came to know what a warm and beautiful world village lights signify. And later it was those village lights that gave me the strength to wander the world from one place to another.

My father was a wanderer. Once every season or so he would drop by the house. In my heart I had no objection to his visits, but that was because of the presents he brought. One time it was a set of 18 colored crayons, another time it was a picture book, and another time he handed me a box full of sweets. But the days when father visited home were the days my mother and father fought.

That day my mother and father had a ferocious fight, and I left the house and started to walk. When I reached a village at sunset and darkness was about to fall, I saw the shining lights coming from the houses.

As I stared at the lights, I felt a warm trickle inside my young heart making its way out of my body. That’s when someone called out to me: Where are you from? It was a man passing by on a bicycle. I spent that night at the man’s house. Amazingly, his house was filled with picture books. I don’t know how many I read that night.

The next morning, I was able to properly look around the house. It was a tile-roofed house with flower beds in the yard. Growing along the walls around the yard were strawberry vines. When the man watered the flowers from a can, a small rainbow appeared between the noodle-like strands of falling water.

The Tears of Mokpo Mokpo is a harbor city at the southwestern end of the Korean Peninsula with a population of 240,000. When Korea opened its ports to the world in 1897, it was Japan that quickly realized the importance of this harbor. Mokpo was perfectly located for an approach

to the Jeolla provinces, the granary of Korea. So when Japan forcibly annexed Korea in 1910, Mokpo became a vital junction in the country’s rail and road network. National Road No. 1, which ran south to north from Mokpo to Sinuiju, via Seoul, and Nation1 al Road No. 2, running west to east from Mokpo to Busan, together with the railway lines, formed the primary routes for transport of Korean commodities to Japan.

Mokpo thus played a central role in the Japanese plunder of Korea during the colonial period (1910–1945). The poet Kim Seon-wu laments the historical wounds of Mokpo:

Like the effigy that knows no pain With tens of needles stuck in its heart, Not able to shed a drop of blood for relief Wading back and forth to Mokpo Harbor.

Rather than hurting, unable to love anyone Love passionately and then be cast aside.

The last boat has departed and enters my body.

– From “Mokpo Harbor” “Hurting, unable to love anyone” was Mokpo’s fate during the colonial era. Songs of the human condition are inevitably born in the company of tragedy in life. Mokpo gave birth to songs and singers that embodied the city’s soul. Born in Mokpo, the singer Lee Nanyeong (1916–1965) debuted in 1935 with the song “Tears of Mokpo.”

It was a song that tore at the hearts of Koreans at the time for it sought to soothe their remorse and sorrow over losing the country. In this exquisite song, performed in a weepy, nasal tone to the accompaniment of an accordion, people saw Korea’s sad fate and the dance of history in the words of a heartbroken 19-year-old girl.

“Tears of Mokpo” carries echoes of timeless stories of a nation’s pain told in traditional pansori melodies.

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66 KOREANA summer 2016

1 Lee Nan-yeong’s debut song “Tears of Mokpo” from 1935 struck a chord with Koreans, who were suffering under Japanese colonial rule. With this one song, Lee became a star beloved by people all over the country. The photo shows the cover of the 1971 compilation album “Lee Nan-yeong Golden Hits.”

2 The Mokpo Modern History Museum is housed in the former Mokpo branch of the Oriental Colonization Company. The streets around this area are a testament to Mokpo's history as a port city that served as a key base for Japan’s exploitation of Korea during the colonial period.

3 The singer Lee Nan-yeong's grave lies under a crape myrtle tree in the Lee Nan-yeong Park in Samhakdo.

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 67

As the song of the boatman flickers away Deep into the waves of Samhak Island The end of the new bride's sleeves is dappled With tears of parting, the sorrow of Mokpo.

– From “Tears of Mokpo” “To love passionately and happily die for it.” This was something that was non-existent for the people of a fallen country. The destination of life that couldn’t be dreamed of. For the girl at the wharf, parting is unspeakably painful and sorrowful. When can we meet again? Dreams of a new world are far away and her sleeves are wet with tears.

When the people of Mokpo talk about Lee Nan-yeong they like to bring up the French chanteuse Edith Piaf (1915–1963). The two singers were contemporaries. Not only did they debut at roughly the same time; they were both famous for inspiring and soothing the souls of their fellow countrymen. If Edith Piaf’s signature songs are “La Vie en Rose” and “Hymne a L’amour,” Lee Nanyeong’s are “Tears of Mokpo” and “Mokpo is a Harbor.”

On the slopes of Mt. Yudal overlooking the city stands a monument to Lee.

Summer Night at Peace Plaza All harbors are located where the land ends. And for some people this means the harbor is the starting point for a new beginning. Here is a new dream for the city of Mokpo, once the core of bitterness and exploitation.

Kim Dae-jung (1924–2009). No Korean is ignorant of this name. Born to a family of sharecroppers on the island of Hauido, off the coast of Mokpo, Kim was one of the most politically oppressed figures in the world in the past century: he was jailed six times, placed under house arrest 55 times, and spent 10 years in exile. When the new military government ordered his execution in 1980 but offered to spare his life if he promised to cooperate, Kim stated: “I too am afraid to die, but if I compromise now to save my life I will die forever in history and the hearts of the people. But even if I die now, I will live forever in history and among the people.” This statement, so steadfast even in the face of death, is indeed entrenched deep in the hearts of the Korean people. In 1997, Kim Dae-jung was elected the president of Korea, and then in 2000 he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize

for his efforts to advance reconciliation between South and North Korea. The life of Kim Dae-jung, his epic suffering, and larger-than-life achievements can be explored at the Nobel Peace Prize Memorial built on the former island of Samhakdo, which had been reclaimed and is now part of the mainland.

The night is as fresh as could be at Peace Plaza in Hadang. Children riding toy cars, young couples busy photographing themselves, merchants selling varicolored candy floss, people lined up at snack carts, flower sellers, people just strolling around or relaxing on the breakwater and chatting, people fishing as they listen to the sound of the lapping waves: It seems as if the whole population of Mokpo has descended on this square.

Myriad lights come on and music comes up. It’s the dancing fountain. In the middle of the harbor, great jets of water rise and fall with the music. When loneliness hits, try getting on a night train and getting off at Mokpo Station to walk among the crowds at Peace Plaza. The noises infused with human warmth can be medicine for the lonely soul.

As I strolled through the bustling square, I thought about the times in which Lee Nan-yeong and Kim Daejung lived. The good times dreamt of by people who had lost their country and roamed around with no home were playing out in this plaza by the sea, with the sound of the waves in the background. The peace yearned for by the politician so dignified even in the face of death was right there in front of my eyes. The scent of a human being, who rose above extremes of despair, loss of direction, and pain, and then battled on to realize his dream. On that summer night in the harbor city of Mokpo, the stars blanketed the sky.

Gatbawi Culture Town Gatbawi [Hat Rocks] Culture Town gives first-time visitors to Mokpo a taste of the pleasure of traveling on foot. Clustered in this culture and arts complex are museums, memorial halls, and art galleries: Mokpo Natural History Museum, Mokpo Ceramic Livingware Museum, National Research Institute of Maritime Cultural Heritage and National Maritime Museum, Mokpo Literature Hall, Namnong Memorial Hall, Mokpo Culture and Arts Hall, and Mokpo Intangible Cultural Heritage Center. Leisurely touring this complex over a few

When loneliness hits, try getting on a night train and getting off at Mokpo Station to walk among the crowds at Peace Plaza. The noises infused with human warmth can be medicine for the lonely soul.

68 KOREANA summer 2016

The Mokpo Harbor Festival has been held every summer since 2006 in Peace Plaza and the surrounding Samhakdo area.

seoul 350km

Mokpo

Mokpo Catholic University Imseong-ri station Mokpo City Hall Mokpo national University

Mokpo Bridge

Mt. Yudal

Gatbawi (Hat rocks) Culture Town Kim Dae-jung nobel Peace Prize Memorial

Best Places to Visit in Mokpo

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 69

days, listening to the sound of the sea, you can feel your thoughts grow deeper with the city’s history.

Namnong Memorial Hall offers a well-organized exhibition of Korean literati paintings of the Southern School from the 19th century to the latter half of the 20th century. Heo Geon (1908–1987), known by his style name Namnong, was the grandson and successor of the style of Heo Ryeon (1808–1893), the lead figure of the Southern School who was lauded by famed calligrapher Kim Jeong-hui for having the “greatest dignity east of the Amnok [Yalu] River.” The museum displays the works of Namnong’s grandfather Heo Ryeon, his father Heo Hyeong, and his students. But among them all, my favorites are the works of Namnong’s brother Heo Rim (1917–1942), who passed away at the age of 25. Two of his paintings in the museum, “Old Man Selling Hens” (1940) and “Mountain Top” (1941), depict the lives of ordinary people during the colonial period and the mountains in warm tones and gentle lines. The distinction of an artist’s works is determined by the depth of his view of the world. There was a time when seeing these two paintings alone would make a trip to Mokpo worthwhile. To me they are the finest works from the transitional period in Korean painting, created with modern Western techniques and the spirit of the literati paintings of Joseon.

For those who like adventure and travel, the National Maritime Museum is not to be missed. There you can view the preserved remains of the Yuan Dynasty merchant ship (the Sinan shipwreck) that sank in 1323 in the seas of Sinan, off the coast of Mokpo, and relics recovered from the ship. In another gallery, the development of ships around the world can be explored. It is wonderful to follow the tracks of travelers from the Age of Exploration in the 15th century. The famed Chinese explorer Zheng He (1371–1433) led expeditions around the world with his fleet of 62 ships. On seven expeditions, between 1405 and 1433, he traveled to many countries in Asia, the Middle East, and Africa. His voyages continued even in his old age and eventually he died at sea, a fitting end for a legendary explorer. Every one of us holds in our hands the net of life.

The explorer’s dream of adventure, to cast that net into uncharted waters, vast and mysterious, where no one has gone before, is a dream held dear in all ages.

Four Writers of Mokpo Next stop is the Mokpo Literature Hall, past the Mokpo Ceramic Livingware Museum. This harbor city has produced many writers who are beloved by the Korean people. The Mokpo Literature Hall showcases the lives and works of four of them: novelist Park Hwa-seong (1904–1988), playwrights Cha Beom-seok (1924–2006) and Kim U-jin (1897–1926), and French literature scholar and literary critic Kim Hyeon (1942–1990). I lingered in the Kim Hyeon Gallery until closing time. Kim wrote 240 works during his lifetime, and there is a reason why Koreans love the works of this man who was neither a poet nor a novelist. He was a critic who passionately loved the works he wrote about. He approached them not as texts to be analyzed but as the objects of sublime love. Bringing the texts into his vast reading collection, he delved into them to reveal the dreams therein, and in doing so revealed his own integrity.

“The further you move away from yourself, the closer you get. It is this paradox that holds the secret of human existence.” – From “Kim Hyeon’s Artistic Travelogue” (1975) “To read incorrectly means to read with a different principle in mind. But that is rather a way of reading that enables something new to be created.” – From “Looking for the Hometown of Man” (1975) “Does the rumor that good times are coming again really mean good times are indeed coming? Is it not a futile dream? I hesitate as I analyze and interpret the world.” – From “Analysis and Interpretation” (1988) Sauntering through a place alive with history is the special gift of travel. There are times when life itself comes across as a muse.

That’s what Mokpo means to me.

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1 The Kim Hyeon Gallery at the Mokpo Literature Hall shows the manuscripts and relics left behind by Kim Hyeon (1942–1990), a literary critic who loved the written word.

2 A harbor city, located at the end of the land, is for some people a point of departure to new beginnings.

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 71

AN ORDINARY DAY

A LIFE SIMPLE YET INTENSE Art Teacher Kim Won-gyo She is a high school art teacher who spends over 12 hours a day at school. Her life revolves around her school, her only daughter, and painting, which she took up again as a diversion when teaching began to feel routine.

Kim Seo-ryung Writer; Representative, Old & Deep Story Lab Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

I

t’s 5:20 a.m. Kim Won-gyo wakes up to the sound of the alarm, does some simple stretching exercises, then eats breakfast. The school has a cafeteria that serves lunch, but she prefers to pack her own so that she can eat more vegetables. At 6:40 a.m. she leaves her home in Sanggye-dong, northeastern Seoul, for the 40-minute drive to her school.

Kim, 52, is an art teacher at Kwangdong High School in Namyangju, Gyeonggi Province. When she was a homeroom teacher, she found herself frequently visiting police stations to bail out her students. She also learned firsthand that children are indeed a reflection of their parents: students often share similar personality traits with their parents, whether it be a timid nature or a rough manner. This year, Kim is taking a break from homeroom duties and instead has taken charge of student safety and security. Each morning at 7:30 a.m. she stands by the narrow street in front of the school where the traffic is heavy and makes sure that the students arrive safely.

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Lamenting the Lot of Students Today Kim believes that art classes are where sensibilities are cultivated, so she often asks her students to draw an image that comes to mind after reading a poem or prose, rather than simply drawing landscapes or still lifes. “When I look at the students engrossed in expressing their favorite poetic verse as art, I feel proud to be a teacher,” says Kim. “I’ve always felt that I wasn’t as good as others. This sense of inadequacy pushed me to try harder, which is what eventually made me a good artist. I want to instill this mentality in my students, but it’s hard to get through to kids these days.”

With the high school curriculum geared toward the college entrance exams, art classes, which have little relevance for most, are left to the discretion of individual schools. At Kwangdong High School, only the junior-level students take art classes, for three hours a week. Compared to after-school courses for students planning to major in art in college, the regular art classes are not so rigorous. Some students slump over their desks and sleep,

Kim Won-gyo, art teacher at Kwangdong High School, is surrounded by second year students in her art class. She believes that art classes are where sensibilities are cultivated.

drained from late-night private lessons. “They must be exhausted,” Kim thinks, and doesn’t bother to wake them. Then, there are students who really enjoy the class and are completely absorbed in their work. She feels sorry for them too, being swamped with studies and having little time to pursue what they like.

During her senior year in college, Kim taught at Sungin Youth School in Dongdaemun District, Seoul, a night school for adolescents who had dropped out of school due to financial reasons.

“These kids worked at factories during the day and studied at night for the high school equivalency exams. I would spend time with them after class,” she says.

Too busy with her studies and teaching, Kim had no time for a boyfriend in her college days. Instead, she acquired teaching skills and learned how gratifying teaching can be. “My name Won-gyo in Chinese characters means ‘the best’ [won] and ‘to teach’ [gyo]. In those days, I truly thought I was the best teacher,” she recalls.

Kim teaches an average of four classes per day; she also teaches after-school classes and supervises self-study sessions at night.

She returns home at around 9 p.m., which leaves little time for other things, such as exercise or painting. Even with such a busy

schedule, she has managed to hold four solo exhibitions so far. The most recent one, held at Gana Art Gallery in December 2014, featured some 50 works, among which the most spectacular was a huge Buddhist painting that occupied an entire wall.

‘If you don’t put down the brush for 10 years…’

Titled “The Flower Garland in My Heart — Homage to Avalokitesvara,” the painting features the images of merciful bodhisattvas against a vast background filled with the patterns of traditional patchwork wrapping cloths. Upon a closer look, the texture of the hemp cloth seems almost palpable. “The process of painting each strand was like a form of praying. It took a huge amount of time,” explains Kim. “When I didn’t have classes, I would lock myself in the school’s art room and paint each strand, one by one. After two years of painstaking work, the painting started to take shape.”

The painting was a big hit. Some viewers said it gave them peace of mind, and there were even Buddhist monks who came several times and just stood quietly in front of it.

“Won-gyo, if you don’t put down the brush for 10 years, you will have a painting in front of you. Once you lay down the brush, it is KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 73

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very difficult to start again.” Heeding these words of the late artist Hwang Chang-bae, her teacher and mentor in college, Kim kept painting, no matter how busy she was with school. The spare time in between classes wasn’t wasted, and even when she came home exhausted after a long day at school, she would still pick up the brush. The years of hard work and perseverance paid off, but at the expense of her health. “Long hours of sitting in the same position took a toll on my spine. Even while I was receiving chiropractic treatment for my curved spine, I couldn’t give up painting,” she says.

A Mother Figure to Her Students Kim is also a certified school counselor. “I see a lot of kids experiencing inner conflict between having to adhere to school rules and their youthful ardor. My daughter went through that during puberty.

She wouldn’t listen to me and wasn’t willing to open up to me. I felt it wasn’t enough to just persuade her to talk, which is why I took the school counselor course. It taught me how to think and look at a situation from their perspective and to communicate better,” she says.

Kim wants to be a teacher who is like a mother to her students.

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Some students come to her in private to discuss personal problems. “There was one girl who hadn’t said a word during her final year at middle school. This sensitive soul had suffered a deep emotional wound. I drew with her every day. I didn’t ask questions or admonish her; I just gave her a pat on the shoulder and held her hand. After two years, she came to me one day and said, ‘Thank you, Ms. Kim.’ I was overcome with happiness. She started making friends soon after that.”

Finding Solace in Painting Kim’s life is simple. It revolves around school, her daughter, and painting. She doesn’t go out much and seldom meets friends or goes shopping. This single-mindedness is partly the way she is and partly the result of circumstances. She lost her husband early and doesn’t like to talk about it. But losing her husband and raising her daughter alone are an important part of her life and painting.

To suggestions that she remarry, she never gave a thought, not so much because of the memory of her husband, but because of her passion for painting.

“My marriage was like any other. I met my husband through

“It’s becoming more and more difficult to be a good teacher. At times I just want to quit teaching and pursue painting. I’ll probably seriously consider it when I’m eligible for my teacher’s pension.

Still, seeing the students each morning gives me fresh energy.”

1 To Kim, painting is like a form of praying. During her early years when she started to paint, she prayed for herself and those around her. Now, she prays that the world will become a happier place.

2 A section of Kim’s painting, “The Flower Garland in My Heart — Homage to Avalokitesvara,” featuring images of merciful bodhisattvas and patterns of traditional patchwork wrapping cloths.

my uncle, a high school principal. My husband had been a diligent, model student in his class who had wonderful parents,” Kim recalls. They married six months after they first met and had a daughter a year later. When the baby was two, her husband died in an accident. For most of their marriage, they had been living apart as Kim was teaching in Seoul while her husband was studying for his doctorate at a university in Daegu. It was a short marriage; she was only 32 at the time. “There are times when I forget I was ever married. It’s probably because I haven’t thought of anything else but have remained devoted to painting ever since,” she says. Her younger sister was a great help in raising her daughter, who is a graduate student now and closer to her aunt than her mother.

When she was young, her daughter came home from kindergarten one day and asked out of the blue, “Why don’t I have a daddy?”

“I didn’t know how to answer her,” Kim says. “My husband had been studying to become a professor, so I just told her, ‘He went to America to teach.’ I told her the truth when she was 11. She cried her eyes out, but has never mentioned her father since.”

Around the time when teaching began to feel routine, Kim met a new teacher and mentor: Park Dae-sung who was known for his

traditional ink paintings. When she first saw his intense ink-andwash paintings at an exhibition, she was stunned. Park was living in Gyeongju, once the capital of the ancient kingdom of Silla with a history of 1,000 years and famous for its Buddhist statues and pagodas. She immediately went to see him and pleaded with him to accept her as his student. “After he consented, I went down to Gyeongju every weekend for 10 years,” she says. “He told me that if I wanted to do ink-and-wash painting, I had to learn to put more strength into the brush. That’s why I’ve been practicing calligraphy all these years.”

In addition to calligraphy, she has also been painting Buddhist images and pagodas. Just gazing at these objects calms her mind, and painting them gives her an even deeper sense of tranquility.

“It’s becoming more and more difficult to be a good teacher. At times I just want to quit teaching and pursue painting. I’ll probably seriously consider it when I’m eligible for my teacher’s pension.

With my daughter all grown up now, I find it harder to relate to high schoolers these days. Still, seeing the students each morning gives me fresh energy. After all, my name says that I’m destined to be the ‘best teacher,’” Kim says, smiling.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 75

Charles La Shure Professor, Department of Korean Language and Literature, Seoul National University Kim Hoo-ran Culture Editor, The Korea Herald

BooKs & more 76 KOREANA summer 2016

Elegant Presentation of Joseon Court Paintings “Court Paintings from the Joseon Dynasty”

By Park Jeong-hye, 167 pages, $37.00, Seoul: Seoul Selection (2016)

This is the first volume in the Visual Korean Heritage series, “a collection of Korea’s traditional culture and arts, in particular pieces that display visual intensity or embody the Korean idea of beauty.” The goal of this series is to place the spotlight on the works of art themselves and provide brief explanations to aid the reader in better understanding the arts of Korea. “Court Paintings from the Joseon Dynasty” certainly achieves this goal, as the first thing the reader will notice upon opening up this beautifully printed book is the great number of pages devoted to reproducing the paintings. With the exception of the back matter, the book devotes four-fifths of its page space to showcasing 30 noteworthy court paintings.

A three-page introduction to the collection guides the reader into the world of Joseon court paintings, discussing their functions, genres, and motifs. This is the longest passage of text in the book, though; the 30 works covered are each accompanied by brief explanations. Each painting is allowed several pages, with one or two pages for the full version and at least one more page for details that have been enlarged to occupy the entire page.

The treatment of the first painting — fittingly a portrait of King Taejo, founder of the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910) — is characteristic of the book as a whole. On the left is the full portrait of the king, known to anyone who is even passingly familiar with Joseon paintings.

The right page has three paragraphs that discuss the history, style, and artistic and cultural elements of the painting. Turn the page, though, and we are met with a close-up of Taejo’s face. Clearly visible are the wrinkles and creases around his eyes, the individual strands of hair in his mustache and beard, and even a wart on his forehead (a feature this reviewer never knew existed, having only ever seen the painting from a distance or on a smaller scale). On the right is an enlargement of the lower left corner of the painting, bleeding to the very edge of the page, which reveals the exquisite detail painted into the dragons on the king’s throne. Each painting is afforded the same care and attention, and some even more — two pages (65 and 97) fold out, allowing for detailed presentation of four very wide paintings that would otherwise not have been possible in book format.

The text, while kept to a minimum, is knowledgeable and informative. If there is any quibble with the book, though, it would be here. The text is by and large mechanically correct, but it is unfortunately marred by the occasional awkward turn of phrase or word choice. These blemishes are not so glaring as to impede understanding, and it does seem somewhat petty to mention such fault, but the blemishes were all the more noticeable when juxtaposed with the beautifully rendered paintings.

The quibble aside, this is a beautiful book that achieves what it sets out to do. While other art books may shoehorn smaller versions of paintings into pages of text, or at best set aside a page or two for a full painting, this book understands that the star of the show is the art. If this is representative of the series as a whole, then Visual Korean Heritage will become a collection that any lover of Korean art will want on their shelves.

An Intimate Guide to Life in Korea “My Korea: Musings with a Camera and Pen”

By Baek Seung-woo, 248 pages, 20,000 won, Seoul: Canopus (2015)

What this book is not is an indexed guidebook to Korea or a coffee table book with stunning photos.

“My Korea: Musings with a Camera and Pen” is exactly what the title says it is: a collection of personal observations and opinions and photographs of places the author has visited. Baek Seung-woo has worked in the hotel industry for 30 years as a finance officer, during which time he became acquainted with what foreigners — travelers and residents alike — find curious about life in Korea.

While the author concedes that he is not a professional writer, it has not deterred him from publishing books. His first effort, a photo essay book in Korean titled “Way to Work, Yaksudong Street” was published in 2013. This latest book is in English, which is not his native language.

In the book’s preface, Baek explains how the project got started: as Facebook postings, in English, on Korean customs with foreign

Gold Mine of Data about Korea’s Cultural Heritage http://www.nrich.go.kr/english_new/

The English-language website of the National Research Institute of Cultural Heritage includes a database of some 150,000 Korean cultural properties, both in and outside the country, making the site an indispensable resource for those studying Korea.

The website is presented in a succinct manner, with well-written text and attractive visuals. It is also user-friendly with clear, simple organization, making it easy to navigate. Even a layperson who seeks to access information on Korea’s rich cultural heritage, including natural heritage, will find the website informative and educational.

For researchers, the most useful feature of the website may be the searchable “Database” section where the various reports published by the National Research Institute of Cultural Heritage are available. This section also contains video and audio files and slides, as well as “Journal of Korean Archaeology.”

English-language abstracts of reports issued in Korean by the

readers in mind. The book is a collection of those postings with a wide selection of photographs taken by the author, both in color and black-and-white.

The book begins with an entry dated September 21, 2015, “The Historical Name of Korea.” Baek explains the origin of “Korea,” how it is an eponym derived from the Goryeo period (918–1392). Exploring the various names of the country in the modern period seems a fitting start to a book that purports to explain the country.

Presented in a reverse chronological order, the entry on the last page, dated August 13, 2013, is a single paragraph on business lunches in Korea. Here the author recommends naengmyeon (cold noodles), vegetable dishes, and samgyetang (ginseng chicken soup).

This curious arrangement explains why the entries become shorter and the language grows less fluid, even awkward. Indeed, this book is proof that regular journaling is a surefire way to improve one’s writing. It is easy to appreciate the progress the author made in the two years that he dedicated to this undertaking.

The book could have benefited from tighter editing and more meticulous proofreading, but it still engages the reader in an intimate way. If you get past the strangeness of some of the sentence structures, the book can be enjoyed anyway you want. It can serve as a personal guide on a journey to discover Korea’s culture, people, customs, and everyday life.

The book does not have to be read front to back as it is not arranged thematically. Opening a random page and discovering something unexpected might just be the best way to appreciate it.

institute are available, some in PDF format. As this is an Englishlanguage website, a more prominent display of the section on cultural properties located outside Korea would have been appreciated, however.

It is regrettable that, as is often the case with foreign language websites of Korean organizations, some sections have not been updated. For example, the most recent international seminar listed is from 2012, though the seminars are held annually. It should also be noted that at the time of writing, the Cultural Heritage Knowledge Portal could not be accessed through the “shortcut” provided on the website.

Although with similar problems and room for improvement, the institute also operates Chinese- and Japaneselanguage websites.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 77

ENTERTAINMENT

Reality TV Latches onto Music Talent Shows Cho Sung-sik Reporter, The Dong-a Ilbo Magazine D

Audiences go wild over the amazing singing by seasoned performers wearing masks. The incredible vocal chops

“W

ow, you must be kidding! It can’t be . . .!” While watching the third round of “King of Masked Singers” (MBC), recognition dawned finally and I let out a shout. Who would have thought that “A Quiet Sort of Lightning Man” (shortened to “Lightning Man”), who sang Boohwal’s “The Story of You and the Rain” and Yim Jae-beom’s “Confession” so magnificently was in fact Miljenko Matijevic, lead vocalist of the legendary American rock band Steelheart?

Although he was knocked out in the semi-finals, the studio audience had the great fortune of hearing the global hit song “She's Gone” sung live by the original singer.

and life stories revealed by amateur contestants who are assumed to be tone-deaf eventually bring the house down and live audiences to tears. Such is the power of music.

©MBC

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78 KOREANA summer 2016

Discovery by Deduction Stoked by the success of “Superstar K” in 2009 on Mnet, a TV channel dedicated to music and youth-oriented programming, reality music talent shows have evolved into various forms and incarnations over the years. While some such programs were very short-lived, shows like “I Am a Singer” and “Hidden Singer” have enjoyed strong ratings.

The standout programs of the past year have been “King of Masked Singers” and “I Can See Your Voice” (Mnet, tvN), which introduced a new twist to the survivor format for prime time entertainment, injecting it with the fun element of discovery by deduction. “King of Masked Singers” features seasoned performers, including professional singers; the contestants in “I Can See Your Voice” are neither famous nor even good singers. The former is a competition between people who can sing well, and the latter is a head-scratcher: who is the real singer out of each group of bluffers? What the two shows have in common is a panel of judges composed of celebrities — pop stars invited to try to solve the shows’ puzzles and help identify the best singers.

In “King of Masked Singers,” a total of eight performers compete in four one-on-one showdowns. The winner from each pair goes on to compete in the next round. Over two weeks, three rounds are held and those who are knocked out at each stage of the competition must take off their masks.

The winner keeps his mask on and goes on to challenge the previous “king” for the title and the golden mask. Then, in the next edition, another eight new performers fight it out for a chance to knock the reigning king off his throne. The winner of each round is decided by the jury of celebrities and a vote by the studio audience.

Delightful Twist The format seemed weird and tacky at first, what with the outrageous masks and childish nicknames. On top of that, the gaudy costumes diverted attention from the singing competition and got in the way of genuine engagement. To be fair, the show did look new and different but quite awkward at the

©Mnet

same time.

2 ond round, the remaining contestants It took the four straight wins by the perform a lip-synch routine. The talented masked singer “CBR Cleopatra” to really singer lip-synchs to a recording of his or arouse widespread viewer interest in the her own voice, while the other contestants show. When rumors started to spread that (who know they can’t sing) use recordings the man behind the mask was Kim Yeonof other singers’ voices. In the third round, woo, known to pop music fans as “the god various pieces of evidence, such as photos of vocals,” the path was opened for the or documents and interviews with the conshow’s success. Thereafter, a succession of testants’ friends and family, are presented long-reigning kings — “Cosmos” (Gummy, for judgment. In the final round, the perfour straight wins), “Cats Girl” (musical son who is selected as “the real singer” actress Cha Ji-yeon, five straight wins), and gets the honor of performing a duet with 1 Sketch of “Captain Music” who is on a 9-round “Captain Music” (possibly Ha Hyun-woo, the pop singer judge. It’s a great opportuwinning streak (as of May 29) on the MBC Sunday currently on nine straight wins) made the nity to showcase the winner’s singing and evening entertainment program “King of Masked Singers.” Contestants take off their masks and reshow the talk of the town. even release a new sound source — but if veal their identities only when they are knocked out The most appealing aspect of “King of it turns out that someone who is actually of the competition.

Masked Singers” is the surprise twist. It tone-deaf had managed to bluff all the way 2 Mnet, tvN’s “I Can See Your Voice” is a talent spotting show where pop celebrity judges try to tell by has run the gamut, thus far and counting, to this point, he gets to take home a cash appearance and clues whether contestants are from someone who is knocked out in the prize of five million won. talented singers or tone deaf. first round and turns out to be a famous The unexpected twist in “I Can See Your pop star; a singer who gives a performance that would put most Voice” is even greater than that of “King of Masked Singers.” When professionals to shame and turns out to be an actor or a newsreadsomeone who everyone thought wouldn’t be able to sing turns out er, a sports figure, or a foreigner. When the mask comes off, the to have a really good singing voice, the audience goes wild with both audience delights in the thrill of the unexpected. surprise and joy. And because the contestants are ordinary people If there is a downside it’s the slow pace and the overlong screen anyone can identify with — housewives, office workers, waiters, and time between the singing and the reveal — the unmasking of the students working part-time jobs — the audience’s sense of shared mystery singer — which is, after all what keeps the viewers glued glory is all the more apparent. to the TV. The comments and reactions of the seemingly indispensThe highlights of season 2, which ended in January, were proable celebrity judges do add something to the fun of the program, vided by “High Pitch Guru” Kim Cheong-il (a waiter at a Chinese but when it gets repetitive, and their banter turns to drivel, viewers restaurant) and “High Spirit PhD” Choi Hyeong-gwan (an employee can lose interest in the show altogether. The same can be said of of K-Water), who both astounded the studio audiences with their the corny lines delivered by the masked performers and the cheesy goosebump-inducing, piercing notes. There were also “Amy Winejokes and chatter between the celebrity panel and the host. house” Mun Su-jin (a high school student) with her deep husky voice, and “Apple Lady” Lee Yun-a (a gugak singer) who gave viewPlain Folks, Extraordinary Chops ers the taste of an unusual harmony of traditional and popular Meanwhile, for each episode of “I Can See Your Voice” a guest music with her clear and elegant vocals. pop star tries to identify the one talented singer from among seven or eight contestants from all walks of life but music; only one can Musicality and Entertainment Value actually carry a tune. Like the “King of Masked Singers,” the show The downside of “I Can See Your Voice” is its excessive focus on has a panel of judges, but its members attempt to spot the “losers.” entertainment. Of course, the show’s objective is to entertain, but They are called the “tone-deaf detective team” who come up with it can be painful to watch the tone-deaf contestants bleat out their various ways to assist the pop star in picking out the one with the songs one after another, as though competing to be the worst singtrue singing talent. As it’s impossible to really know the contestants’ er. Also, as with anything else, if the same pattern is repeated again ability before they actually sing, the show often ends with an unpreand again, people will tire of it. As program formats evolve, so do dictable outcome. the viewers at home.

The format is similar to “King of Masked Singers”: four rounds The format rights for both of these programs have been sold per episode, each round based on different clues for sorting out abroad and local versions have been airing in Thailand, since Januwho’s who. Judging on the first round is based on appearance. The ary, and in China since March. They have already been causing quite contestants strike various poses which presumably reflect their a stir and now other countries across Asia are planning the productalent; two are eliminated, assumed to be tone-deaf. In the section of their own spinoffs.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 79

ESSENTIAL INGREDIENTS

MU VEGETABLE FOR ALL SEASONS

Kim Jin-young Representative, Traveler’s Kitchen Shim Byung-woo Photographer

A typical Korean meal is rarely ever without a side dish of mu, the versatile white radish, which may well be called the country’s vegetable for all seasons. Mu is loved for its flavor, which goes well with rice, and has long been an important source of vitamin C in winter when fresh vegetables were hard to come by. These days, the white radish is available year-round, but the woldongmu (winter radish), grown on islands in the southern sea where the winters are relatively mild, is the tastiest.

M

u is one of Koreans’ favorite vegetables. The European red radish is eaten raw and used in salads, while in Japan, white radish, called daikon, is used as an ingredient for such dishes as boiled fish, buckwheat soba, and miso soup, and is pickled as well; grated raw daikon is used as a garnish for sashimi. The Korean white radish is cultivated and carefully harvested since every part of the plant is used, from the taproot to the green tops. Mu can be found on the Korean dining table as kimchi, salad, or a variety of side dishes; it’s an essential ingredient in soups, stews, and also for making a base broth for various dishes.

If dishes made with siraegi (dried radish leaves) and mumallaengi (thin-sliced, dried radish) are taken into account, hardly a day passes without Koreans eating mu in some ways. Radish is rich in 80 KOREANA summer 2016

amylase, an enzyme that breaks down starch to aid digestion; this might be an age-old wisdom passed down among Koreans through generations, whose staple grain is rice.

1

1 Muguk (radish soup) is a clear soup favored by Koreans. It is made with slices of beef and radish, stir-fried in sesame oil, then cooked with water and Koreanstyle soy sauce, and seasoned with salt and a dash of black pepper.

2 The plump radish root freshly pulled from the ground is crunchy and sweet. The green tops are dried and boiled in soybean paste stew (jjigae ) or prepared as a seasoned vegetable dish (namul ).

The Ubiquitous ‘Winter Ginseng’ Up till the 1970s, when greenhouse farming was not yet developed and vegetables were hard to grow in winter, people would store the radish harvested in the fall deep underground to prevent its freezing; this served as their supply of the vegetable throughout the winter. Prepared as a side dish or eaten raw, although not as sweet as fruits, radish was a delicacy for winter night snacking with its mild, refreshing taste. The radish eaten as a snack during the winter was called dongsam , or “winter ginseng.” There is a reason why this ubiquitous vegetable was compared to the precious herb.

2

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 81

Although it does not have as much medicinal benefits as ginseng, the radish then was a vital source of vitamin C during the winter time.

Radish is now grown in all seasons, with its annual production exceeding that of any other vegetable. In particular, the winter radish that can now be grown in moderate cold temperatures of winter is prized for being the tastiest. In the southern regions of Korea, the temperatures during the height of winter rarely drop below zero even at night. The taste of radish gets better as it grows during nights with temperatures between zero and 10 degrees Celcius. That’s because the starch produced through photosynthesis during the day changes quickly into sugar to prepare for the night, a survival strategy of the radish,

which increases its sweetness.

Large-scale production of winter radish and its distribution started in earnest in the mid-1990s. Jeju Island is well-known for its flavorful winter radish. “Jeju woldongmu” has been exported to America, cleanwashed and packed in vinyl bags, for the past ten years. Farther north, radish is grown during the hot summer season in the high mountains of Gangwon Province, in the eastern part of Korea, at altitudes higher than 600 meters above sea level.

Because vegetables either stop growing or become overgrown when the temperature is above 30˚C, the radish will not be as succulent and sweet in summer. Thus, summer radish is grown in the highlands, where the night temperatures drop noticeably.

Yeolmu Guksu : Refreshing Summertime Treat Summer is the season of yeolmu , the sweet baby radish taproots and their green tops. Harvested after a short growing time, it is known for being delectably crunchy and rich in flavor. Yeolmu guksu is a refreshing chilled soup made with thin noodles called somyeon and chilled anchovy stock flavored with yeolmu water kimchi. It’s an inexpensive delicacy enjoyed as a snack at home or as an appetizer in the summer at restaurants and eateries everywhere. Sipping the cold sweet-sour broth between chewy mouthfuls of yeolmu kimchi and somyeon, one can forget the summer heat, if only for a moment.

The eponymous Korean cold noodle dish naengmyeon brings the height of flavor

1

1 For dongchimi (radish water kimchi), small roundish radishes are selected, cleaned and seasoned only with salt and a few aromatics such as whole garlic, sliced ginger, chives, and red chili. When well fermented, the radish is cut into bite-size pieces and served with the chilled liquid. In the past, the crock containing this kimchi was buried in the yard to be eaten all winter.

2 Kkakdugi (diced radish kimchi) is made with radish cut into bite-size cubes, which are sprinkled with salt and left out for a while before mixing with fish sauce, pickled shrimp, chili powder, sticky rice starch, and chopped chives. The well-fermented kkakdugi is considered the perfect side dish for various kinds of meat soup.

2

Summer is the season of yeolmu, the sweet baby radish taproots and their green tops. Harvested after a short growing time, it is known for being delectably crunchy and rich in flavor.

and texture of handmade summer noodles and pickled radish together in a bowl of icy broth. With buckwheat noodles in the broth of beef, pork, or chicken, this traditional noodle dish is served with thin cucumber slices, cooked meat, and a boiled egg cut in half — together with pickled radish.

This indispensable garnish is made of thinsliced radish pickled in salt, chili pepper powder, vinegar, and sugar. There is a reason for this traditional way of consuming buckwheat noodles with radish. The toxic components salycilamine and benzilamine from the buckwheat’s skin can be neutralized by the enzymes in radish.

Kkakdugi , Easy Radish Kimchi Kkakdugi , using radish as the primary ingredient, is the easiest kind of kimchi to make. Cabbage kimchi, with its so many ingredients and complicated preparation, is challenging for me, but I’m happy to make kkakdugi when my 13-year-old

daughter wishes to have it on the table. I can just buy a radish in the store nearby, cut it into cubes of 2–3 centimeters, sprinkle some salt, and leave in a bowl for about 2 hours. The salt melts into the radish, which becomes crunchy. I then add some fish sauce, pickled shrimp, chili pepper powder, and sticky rice starch (this last ingredient can be skipped to save time). Adding chives gives the kkakdugi a deeper taste. The mixture can be left to ferment for two days and then eaten. For meat soups, such as samgyetang (whole chicken and ginseng soup), galbitang (beef rib soup), and seolleongtang (ox bone soup), well-fermented kkakdugi is just right in place of cabbage kimchi.

Since radish helps in the digestion of fatty food, it is a perfect combination for good taste and health.

An interesting and unusual variant of kimchi is radish kimchi with bolak (rockfish), a specialty of Tongyeong in South Gyeongsang Province and other coastal

areas of the South Sea. A whole rockfish (Sebastes inermis) is fermented in a batch of radish kimchi. At the beginning it smells fishy, but after about two months of fermentation, the fishy smell disappears and a unique odor from the aged fish protein will stimulate your appetite. The radish and bolak together on a plate may look rather unattractive at first, but the savory taste will have you raving about its novelty. The stiff fish bones are softened in the fermentation process, and the fish meat becomes firm, so it is like eating a gourmet fish meal, not kimchi. A bowl of warm steamed rice will quickly disappear with this special kimchi. One can try this dish at a restaurant called Chungmujip, which specializes in Tongyeong dishes, in Eulji-ro, central Seoul.

Whichever of the many mu dishes best suits your taste, the radish, a vital ingredient of Korean cooking, promises an abundance of culinary delights.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 83

LIFESTYLE

JEONSE BOON OR BANE FOR KOREA’S HOUSING MARKET? Jeonse, a home rental system that is unique to Korea, has been facing a crisis in recent years as the factors that had long enabled the system to function — robust economic growth, rising house prices, and high interest rates — have seemingly disappeared .

Kim Bang-hee Director, Center for Economic Research of Everyday Life

84 KOREANA summer 2016

“P

overty That is Stolen,” a short story by Park Wan-suh (1931–2011), is a trenchant depiction of the lives of ordinary people who are caught up in the socioeconomic riptides of the 1970s, when Korea was undergoing rapid industrialization and modernization. The story takes place in a “moon village” in Seoul.

The female protagonist has to share a room with her boyfriend to save on monthly rent. A twist of fate brought her to this impoverished neighborhood.

She was originally from better circumstances, until her father’s business went bankrupt. People advised the family to rent out a room of their home and open a grocery shop with the jeonse deposit money. But her mother went on to borrow more money to help her husband start a new business. He went bankrupt again. Her parents ended their lives out of despair, together with her older brother. Left all alone, she ends up in the hillside shantytown.

Her family’s tailspin from home ownership through jeonse and the final misery of paying monthly rent traces the downward trajectory of change in her social class, from a child of a middle-class family to an orphan in poverty. In the era of industrialization, one’s housing situation, as an owner or renter, defined his standing in the social hierarchy. This class consciousness remains seared in the Korean people’s psyche up to the present day.

Unique Rental System Jeonse is a uniquely Korean real estate rental system. The property owner receives a lump-sum deposit upon the signing of a lease contract for a house, or a room, and then the tenant pays no monthly rent. At the end of the contract period, the tenant receives the entire deposit amount back upon moving out.

This unusual rental system has been in operation for more than a hundred years. Some say that this practice has been around since the Joseon period (1392–1910), but more widely-held views believe it began in the late 19th century when Korea opened its ports to the outside world. But only in the 1960s did this system become more common because there simply was not enough housing in the cities as people from the countryside flooded into the urban areas in the process of industrialization. At that time, jeonse was an ideal rental system, beneficial to both the house owner and the tenant.

House owners were unsure whether tenants, typically strangers from rural areas, would pay the monthly rent without skipping out.

Tenants had substantial amounts of cash from selling their houses or land in their hometowns, and through jeonse they could secure housing without depleting their capital holdings.

How could such a system of tenancy, in which no monthly rent is paid, prevail nationwide and sustain itself? How could this system thrive when the tenants were required to deposit large sums of money with the home owners, for a year or longer, and then trust that their deposit would later be returned? The answer lies in the nation’s economic situation over the past decades. Korea achieved strong economic growth from the 1960s to the late 20th century,

when annual growth rates exceeded 8 percent on average. This was a period of phenomenal growth, compressing within 40 years a development process that had taken more than a hundred years in most developed countries. Throughout this period, the demand for housing far surpassed the available supply, which continued to boost housing prices. In the late 1980s, when Korea’s economic boom was further spurred on by its hosting of the 1988 Seoul Olympics, housing prices doubled within four years.

Ever-rising House Prices, Robust Economic Growth At that time, people sought to purchase residential property even if they could not readily afford to do so. Those who had difficulty borrowing money from banks could use the jeonse system to acquire a housing unit already rented to a tenant. With this method, they needed to come up with only the difference between the unit’s price and the tenant’s jeonse deposit. Many people who attained home ownership in this way had to live in a rented place until they managed to save up enough to pay off the tenant’s deposit amount and gain full control of the unit. The jeonse system thus also functioned as a private source of residential financing under which prospective home buyers could take advantage of a tenant’s deposit. Before the introduction of a conventional mortgage system in Korea, jeonse was a practical means to finance home purchases. The brisk buying and selling of homes during the heyday of jeonse enabled the housing market to flourish not only for homes purchased by owner occupants, but also as a means to accumulate assets, as housing prices continuously increased. “If you have a little money, put it in the bank; if you have a little more, put it in a house.” This was the common formula for personal investment during the heady days of Korea’s robust economic growth.

Another factor that enabled the jeonse system to sustain itself was the double-digit interest rates. A rental property owner could earn more income from the jeonse deposit than from monthly rent payments, by simply leaving the tenant’s deposit in a bank. The fact that a 12 percent rate of annual appreciation in housing prices was used as an index to calculate monthly rental fees reflects the high interest rates in the past. Ten thousand dollars in jeonse deposit funds was equivalent to about a hundred dollars of monthly rent.

Vice versa, a hundred dollars’ increase in monthly rent could mean an increase of ten thousand dollars in the jeonse deposit. In the times of Korea’s rapid economic development, there was excess demand for cash, which boosted bank interest rates to far higher levels than normal.

Will Jeonse Become a Memory of the Past?

With the recent economic turbulence, the jeonse system is in peril of being uprooted because the favorable conditions that made it possible are being diminished. Korea’s rapid economic growth is a phenomenon of the past. Except for 2001, the annual growth rate since 2000 has languished below 3 percent. Since the Asian finanKOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 85

cial crisis in 1997 and the global economic crisis a decade later, slower growth has become a “new normal” for the economy.

Housing prices, which had been relatively insulated from the economic slowdown, have started to head downward.

To begin with, the housing supply has exceeded demand — the supply rate reached over 100 percent — by 2010. The acute housing shortage in the cities during the period of industrialization has been completely alleviated. On top of the economic conditions, Korea’s demographic trends portend that the appreciation of housing prices will no longer be optimal for jeonse. The nation’s declining population along with a continued increase in its aging population will lead to shrinking demand for housing in the years ahead. Some predict a sharp drop in housing prices due to these factors. Buying and selling resi-

86 KOREANA summer 2016

dential property is no longer a viable investment strategy for the average investor (or even the wealthy). “Buy a home only when necessary and only if you can afford it,” is today’s word to the wise, as ever more affluent people with the ability to invest in real estate are now reluctant to buy or assuming a wait-andsee stance.

The development of housing finance systems and the prolonged period of low interest rates have contributed much to breaking down the jeonse system. Although subject to regulations that are intended to dampen profit-driven speculation, it is still relatively easy for investors to borrow money from the bank these days. Today, there is no need to buy a property together with a jeonse tenant. Property owners can no longer use the jeonse deposit to earn more income than from monthly rent

House buyers look over a scale model of a new apartment complex being built in the suburbs of Seoul. In areas where the price of jeonse has soared relative to home sale prices, the market for new apartments is heating up.

The brisk buying and selling of homes during the heyday of jeonse enabled the housing market to flourish not only for homes purchased by owner occupants, but also as a means to accumulate assets, as housing prices continuously increased.

payments. Baby boomers and older people with no income besides rental units now prefer a monthly income by renting out their property.

The share of jeonse deals in housing transactions in 2015 stood at 58.9 percent, a decrease of 10 percentage points from 69 percent in 2011.

Will jeonse disappear over the long term? In a meeting held on February 23, 2016 to discuss administrative tasks, President Park Geun-hye’s remarks on this issue made headlines when she gave a matter-of-fact forecast: “Jeonse will become an old-time memory.” She said this in the context of promoting the government’s housing initiative, “New Stay,” under which monthly rental apartments would be offered for long-term lease with strict caps on price appreciation.

Her thoughts about the jeonse system could well be true over time, but the accuracy of the prediction is not the issue. It created a controversy because the government did not seem to carefully consider any possible side effects that could arise from the jeonse system’s demise or any countermeasures to cope with such consequences.

Monthly Rental Shock A serious rental crisis has afflicted Seoul and the metropolitan capital environs over the past few years. The jeonse system has been drastically curtailed, but it still remains a popular arrangement for many people in need of housing. For these tenants, a monthly rent payment is a considerable burden.

Due to this paradoxical imbalance of supply and demand, the jeonse prices have surged. The average jeonse price has exceeded 70 percent of the housing prices in Seoul, while even reaching 80 percent in certain areas.

The increasing number of households who now pay monthly rent of between $500 and $1,500 has served to lower the capacity for household consumption. This “monthly rental shock” is a possible factor behind a prolonged recession, along with mounting household debt. It is also unclear whether enough monthly rental units can be supplied at reasonable rates if the jeonse system cannot be sustained. If not, the high housing prices and lack of jeonse units will likely result in a critical shortage of rental housing.

One thing is clear. If the jeonse system ceases to exist, people will be left with only two choices for housing: they can either buy their own home or pay monthly rent. Ironically, the same factors that have undermined jeonse are also discouraging people from buying a home. Consequently, the strong desire for home ownership, which is so deeply ingrained in Korean society, will inevitably be weakened. Future generations might find it difficult to understand how a consequence of the nation’s experience of rapid industrialization, the housing situation — whether one is a homeowner or a tenant — once defined an individual’s social and economic status, just as most outsiders cannot understand Korea’s jeonse system of today.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 87

JOURNEYS IN KOREAN LITERATURE

CRITIQUE

Carnivalesque Carnivalesque Carnivalesque Carnivalesque Carnivalesque Approach Approach Approach Approach Approach to tototo to Gravity Gravity Gravity Gravity Gravity and and and and and Triviality Triviality Triviality Triviality Triviality Choi Jae-bong Reporter, The Hankyoreh

L

ee Young-hoon is a writer of the Father figures, overarching disThe short story “Everyone Loves Girls’ so-called IMF generation who courses, truth, God … such things Generation” is a farce played out in a came of age around the time are at once the bases for explaining vast underground shopping complex when Korea applied for a bailout from the meaning of existence and giving that is under tight security for a G20 the International Monetary Fund in us goals in life, and at the same time 1997 in the wake of the Asian financial they are the values which represent summit being held at the adjacent crisis. Heady from two decades of rapid the “worn out and oppressive things” convention center. Critics have economic growth that began in the that the young generation was chomppraised this work by Lee Young-hoon 1960s, the financial crisis, which thereing at the bit to resist. However, for Lee for taking the reader on an absurd after came to be symbolized by the IMF Young-hoon’s generation, whether it be bailout, was the first serious economic considered a positive or negative thing, romp that ostensibly makes light of a crisis to hit postwar South Korea. For their world was completely stripped of grave personal situation, connecting the young people who had just entered such meaning or values. In fact, when the insignificant with structural university or society around this time, faced with the cruel reality of restrucirrationality. it was a devastating blow, leaving them turing that followed the bailout, the with inner wounds that would not heal fathers of the “IMF generation” were easily. The IMF bailout was a dramatic rupture in the trajecforced to relinquish their role as the head of their housetory of Korea’s economic development and also signaled a holds. When the authority of father figures, who could be need to apply the brakes to its self-propelled growth and believed in and depended upon, ceased to exist, the outprogressive aspirations, politically and across society as a dated values, which had been the target of resistance to be whole. defied and shattered, also disappeared.

Lee Young-hoon’s literary debut in 2008 was marked by Rather than reconciliation, literature is primarily conhis receipt of the Munhakdongne New Writer’s Award. In cerned with conflict. This does not only apply within works 2012, he garnered the Young Writer’s Award for his short of literature but is also true in the larger framework of story “Everyone Loves Girls’ Generation” and the Fiction the literary field. For writers to assert their existence and Prize for the full-length novel “Changeking’s Descendants,” achieve literary significance, they need some kind of conflict both given by the publishing group, Munhakdongne [Literary to struggle against. For Lee Young-hoon’s generation, howCommunity]. The novel includes the following line: ever, not just with real-world conflict but in struggles within “As for us, well, we just live as others appear to. Mimickliterature too, although they weren’t entirely insurmounting films and comics and dramas. We have no fathers, and able, the ambit of such struggles was circumscribed — akin no stories of central importance, nor any truth to believe in to tilting at windmills of little importance. or be guided by. For us there is no God, no philosophy, absoOnce, when we were having a drink together, Lee Younghoon surprised me by divulging that he wanted to enter yet lutely nothing.”

88 KOREANA summer 2016

another fiction contest. (In Korea, once a writer has gained the acclaim of winning an influential full-length fiction competition, it is expected that he will refrain from entering another similar contest.) I couldn’t understand what he meant, so I asked him what his reasoning was for thinking that way. He responded, “Because it seems like I’m already being forgotten.” Although Lee has won more prizes and garnered more attention than most of his literary peers, he is still anxious about securing his place in literature. I think this desire is also closely related to his identity as a member of the “IMF generation.”

The quote above from “Changeking’s Descendants” is spoken by Min, a thirty-two-year-old hikikomori (recluse), who is obsessed with the special effects in a kids’ TV program. Yeong-ho, the protagonist of the novel who is also the same age, is desperate to know everything about the kids’ TV show “King of Change — Changeking” in order to get closer to his stepson Sam, a middle school student who is completely absorbed in the show. Lee Young-hoon’s generation grew up bombarded with visual media, such as television, films, and computer games. While Min is stuck deep in the mire of this digital world and can find no way out, Yeong-ho flounders, doing whatever he can, to escape to the real world. Yeong-ho’s resolute statement, “I will become that boy’s father,” displays that determination. Simply put, you could say that becoming a father to the generation who grew up without their fathers is a fundamental theme of Lee Young-hoon’s literary work.

“Everyone Loves Girls’ Generation” immediately grabs the reader’s attention for its title has the name of the popular band Girls’ Generation (although the Girls’ Generation in the story has seven members rather than nine and the group members have different names); the COEX Mall, an iconic landmark of Korean capitalism, is the setting of the story.

Having arranged to meet a woman he met through a matchmaking agency at a restaurant in the COEX Mall, the male protagonist suddenly feels the need to use the bathroom and undergoes a hellish experience. He hurries to find a toilet, but because the G20 Summit is being held in the same sprawling complex, all the nearby toilets have been

locked up. While roving around the underground maze looking for a bathroom, he comes across a man in police uniform who offers to help him search for an open toilet. As they try to find an unlocked toilet, the protagonist and the man in police uniform talk about Girls’ Generation, and as if by magic his abdominal pain disappears.

“We carried on our conversation laughing bashfully like little boys. Girls’ Generation really worked like some kind of miracle. We were talking about Girls’ Generation and before I knew it my stomachache subsided.”

The protagonist becomes curious as to why a police officer, who must surely have lots of work to do, is going to so much trouble to help a single citizen resolve his personal need and when he asks him the man in uniform (it is not certain whether he is a real police officer or not) responds, “We both love Girls’ Generation, don’t we?”

However, the mass media illusion that is Girls’ Generation cannot relieve the protagonist’s physiological distress completely. As soon as the topic of conversation changes, the pain which seemed to have gone away rears its terrifying head again, and the protagonist’s endurance is pushed to the limit.

Although it portrays an embarrassing incident in a vignette touched by dark humor, this work shows an acute critical awareness. While guiding the protagonist to a public toilet, the man in police uniform says, “Originally, you know, you can take a shit anywhere you like.” These words, which resound around the shiny ultra-modern space they are in, have an unexpected effect.

The symptoms of diarrhea, which at any other time could be easily remedied, become a serious problem because of the public bathrooms being closed because of security concerns for the G20 Summit. As such, it could be said that the global importance of the G20 Summit served to stifle the natural physical needs of an individual. To Lee Younghoon’s generation, who had their identity shaped by the farreaching consequences of the “IMF crisis,” the G20 can be the IMF’s contemporary incarnation. In this context, one can interpret the story’s carnivalesque conclusion as an act of defiance, and as the author’s personal statement about the generational sacrifices that have been extracted by the IMF and G20.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 89

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A JOURNAL OF THE EAST ASIA FOUNDATION

We Help Asia Speak to the World and the World Speak to Asia.

In our latest issue:

A NEW SECURITY ORDER FOR EAST ASIA: ESSAYS BY

Paul Evans & Chen Dongxiao, Amitav Acharya, Zhang Tuosheng, T.J. Pempel, Mohamed Jawhar Hassan, Robert Ayson, David A. Welch, Yul Sohn and Paul Evans IN FOCUS: THE 2016 NUCLEAR SECURITY INDEX

Co-operative Security 2.0: Recasting East Asia’s Security Order Learn more and subscribe to our print or online editions at www.globalasia.org

The first in a two-part series assesses the state of nuclear materials security with a look at Pakistan, India and China THE DEBATE: SOUTH KOREA’S DECISION TO CLOSE KAESONG

Sung-han Kim Squares Off Against Rüdiger Frank

PLUS

Seok-Hyun Hong China’s Rise and America’s Role in Asia John H.S. Åberg The Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank and the Struggle for Regional Leadership Brian Bridges & Chan Che-po Can North Korea Keep Playing Off Its Neighbors China and Russia?

Sarah Teo & Henrick Z. Tsjeng The ASEAN Defence Ministers’ Meeting at 10: successes and challenges Book Reviews by John Delury, Taehwan Kim, Nayan Chanda and John Nilsson-Wright

US$15.00 W15,000 A JOURNAL OF THE EAST ASIA FOUNDATION | WWW.GLOBALASIA.ORG | VOLUME 11, NUMBER 1, SPRING 2016

Co-operative Security 2.0

Recasting the East Asian Security Order

Latest issue, full archives and expert analysis at www.globalasia.org

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