2021 Koreana Summer(English)

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orean moviegoers in the 1970s witnessed a rush of “hostess films,” which dealt with women working in the adult entertainment industry. The popularity of “Heavenly Homecoming to Stars” (1974) and “Yeong-ja’s Heydays” (1975), based on namesake novels written by Choi In-ho and Cho Seon-jak, respectively, triggered the outpouring. While some of these films contended to present critical commentaries of reality, and were even acclaimed for their cinematic quality, their storylines seldom veered from the convention of depicting women as sexual objects. The female characters were typically impoverished country girls who had come to the city, selling their smiles and their bodies to make a living. Although the filmmakers claimed their works mirrored real life, they rarely employed a female perspective. Thus, the overwhelmingly male viewpoint in these movies was no different from those in other genres. These deep-rooted practices underwent a slow change over decades, eventually crystalizing into an irrevocable trend. Recent films about women have featured an unfamiliar range of characters with a commanding presence. “The World of Us,” which premiered at the 2016 Berlin International Film Festival, earned its director, Yoon Ga-eun, Best New Director awards in multiple contests. Aside from its cinematic brilliance, the

film impressed the audience with groundbreaking content and subject matter. Until then, a story told from the viewpoint of an elementary school girl was a rarity in Korean film. The preconception was that moviegoers wouldn’t be interested in a child’s story. But children aren’t immune to adult-size sorrow and anguish, a fact that grownups tend to simply overlook or ignore. As the father of the main character, fourth grader Sun, dismissively asks, “What does a kid have to worry about?”

Little Girls

Sun tries to befriend her new classmates but is ignored. Isolated, she sees a flash of hope in Jia, a transfer who arrives in the middle of the semester. The two girls become close during summer vacation, and Sun expects her next school year will be much happier. But her assumption is completely shattered as Jia shifts toward the classmates who had ostracized Sun. The virtue of this film is that it doesn’t confine school bullying to attackers and victims, as is commonly done. Instead, “The World of Us” vividly conveys the emotional, not physical, pain that children can suffer. As a result, viewers realize that the human condition is universal to any society or group, regardless of age. “An Old Lady,” director Lim Sun-ae’s first feature film, deals with an unexplored subject in Korean film: sexual violence against the elderly. The movie premiered

1. In director Lim Sun-ae’s first feature, “An Old Lady” (2019), Ye Soo-jung plays 69-year-old Hyo-jeong, who is sexually assaulted and struggles to prove her case. It was the first Korean film to deal with sexual violence against an old woman. 2. “The World of Us” (2016), directed by Yoon Ga-eun, explores relationships among children from a child’s perspective. In her 2019 work, “The House of Us,” Yoon once again casts a thoughtful gaze on the world as seen through the eyes of children.

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1. “Our Body” (2019), directed by Han Ka-ram, is about a young woman, who is inspired by another to take up running, restoring the strength to reinvent her life. 2. Awarded at many international film festivals, “Moving On” (2020), directed by Yoon Dan-bi, depicts the delicate and complex emotions of siblings spending summer days in a multi-generational household.

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These female directors are expanding the realm of women’s narratives with their various expressive styles and subtle depictions of formerly neglected characters. at the 2019 Busan International Film Festival, and was invited to the Heartland and Amiens international film festivals, where it was praised for its subtle and poignant portrayal of a little-known issue.

Elderly Women

Hyo-jeong, 69, is sexually assaulted by a male nursing assistant in his 20s while receiving treatment at a hospital. Her claim that she was violated is dismissed. Authorities choose to believe the hospital workers who insist the sexual encounter was consensual. Frustrated at the refusal of an arrest warrant, Hyo-jeong asks, “Would the attacker have been arrested if the accuser had been a young woman?” Before, little thought had been given to the position of elderly women as a social minority. The film coaxes audiences to expand their thinking about sexual violence and preconceptions about women. When the detective investigating the case says Hyo-jeong’s outfit is “too good for an old woman,” she tells him that if she doesn’t dress well enough, people look down on her and pester her with brazen advances. “Do I look safe in this out24

fit?” she asks the detective, revealing her everyday reality, where she needs to be defensive-minded even about what she wears. Ultimately, the film stresses that abandoning preconceptions is a prerequisite for grasping the truth of an incident. Hyo-jeong has a male friend with whom she shares a house. He is almost her only ally, but the film doesn’t pivot to send him into a fight for her honor. Instead, it sends Hyo-jeong on a path to justice by herself, upending the stereotype of an elderly woman needing a man to defend her or resolve her predicament.

Awareness of Desire

“Our Body” (2019), the debut feature by Han Ka-ram, ventures into the way one woman is inspired by another. More significantly, it further raises the issue of desire in a provocative style. Ja-young is a 31-year-old woman who has failed for eight years to pass the state exam for a high-level civil service position. At the outset of the movie, she is ditched by her boyfriend. Losing all hope and purpose in life, she wanders around until she happens to see another KOREANA SUMMER 2021


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young woman, Hyun-joo, running by. Admiring Hyunjoo’s beautiful, healthy body, Ja-young joins her running club. The film’s interest in the young women’s bodies isn’t just another variation of the popular stereotyping of women’s looks, but a medium to explore their search for meaning in life. In the end, Ja-young recovers from hopelessness, realizing that she has been blindly pursuing social advancement and success as prescribed by other people. She acknowledges her own desire.

Expanding Narratives

Yoon Dan-bi’s first feature film, “Moving On,” premiered at the 2019 Busan International Film Festival and won awards in four categories. That was only the start of a string of accolades. The film received the Osler Best Feature Film Award at the 24th Toronto Reel Asian International Film Festival, where the jury was impressed by “debut director Yoon Dan-bi’s depiction of the delicate and complex dynamics of a multi-generational family.” It said, “Their love is told through small gestures and quiet but poignant scenes of joy, change and grief.” The film went on to win the International KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

Federation of Film Critics (FIPRESCI) Prize for Best Film at the 38th Torino Film Festival and the New Talent Award given to notable young Asian directors at the 17th Hong Kong Asian Film Festival. The film’s protagonist, Okju, is a teenage girl who has a financially strapped father and a little brother. When the film begins, they leave their home and move in with her ailing grandfather, soon to be joined by her aunt. Amid the ups and downs of ordinary life unfolding, a special emotional bond is forged in the multi-generational household. The film captures the entwined moments of the young siblings and adults, as if the decades between them have been erased, the past and present overlapping. While the aforementioned films question social stereotypes and preconceptions with a serious tone, “Moving On” appeals to the audience with the story of a girl’s coming of age and the life of an ordinary family. Overall, these female directors are expanding the realm of women’s narratives with their various expressive styles and subtle depictions of formerly neglected characters. 25


SPECIAL FEATURE 4

Women’s Narratives: A New Wave of Korean Cinema

TWEAKS ON GENRE FILMS There is a general notion that crime, thriller and action films are targeted for men while romance films are for women. This prejudice has been significantly shaken by the rise of a female fandom for genre films. Kim So-hui Film Critic

1. Director Hong Eui-jeong (far right) talks with actor Yoo Ah-in and other crew members on location for “Voice of Silence.” The movie earned her best new director at the 2021 Blue Dragon Film Awards. 2. Yoo plays Tae-in, a subcontractor who takes care of dead bodies for a crime organization. He changes while looking after a kidnapped child.

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sura: The City of Madness” (2016), a crime film directed by Kim Sung-su, and “The Merciless” (2017), a film noir by Byun Sung-hyun, achieved only mediocre commercial success, but both films generated unexpectedly eager fan support. Their fan groups, called “Asurians” and “Bulhandang Members” (from the movie’s Korean title, “Bulhandang”), respectively, conducted various activities online and offline to promote the movies. Notably, most of those who initiated these campaigns were women. Challenging the conventional idea that women dislike genre films, more of these movies have recently been directed by women or featured female protagonists. In 2020, there was a surge of new women directors who presented debut films based on their own screenplays, including Sohn Won-pyung, Hong Euijeong and Park Ji-wan. Their work is rewriting the history of Korean film noir.

Disruption and Fear

Sohn Won-pyung, a novelist who won a young adult fiction award for her first book, “Almond,” stirred up talk about her extraordinary career when she started shooting her debut feature film, “Intruder.” The movie observes a woman through the gaze of a man, but his first-person perspective is peculiarly unreliable. A stranger appears out of nowhere, claiming to be his younger sister who went missing in their childhood. The movie’s suspense is rooted in the difficulty of figuring out if she is truly his sister or an imposter. The man, Seo-jin, has been seeing KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

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a psychiatrist since his wife’s death in a traffic accident and is so unstable that it is hard to tell whether his trauma is real or imagined, or if he is a reliable character at all in the first place. The director deliberately detaches the audience from the first-person narrative by following the protagonist’s mental disarray. The film’s handling of family dynamics is also unusual. In general, movies featuring atypical families try to persuade viewers of the validity of these family structures. “Intruder” creates tension instead, by disclosing how powerless the real son is in competing with the alleged daughter to gain his parents’ trust, and portraying the disintegration of the family with the appearance of a suspicious person who claims to be one of their own. The director captures the fear caused by the unexpected disruption in the family’s daily routines, focusing on the protagonist’s psychological responses.

“Ghost Walk,” directed by Yu Eun-jeong, winner of the Audience Award at the 2018 Bucheon International Fantastic Film Festival, also explores a disoriented character. Hye-jeong, realizing she has become a ghost in the aftermath of a murder, returns to the past, one day at a time, to discover how she was killed, and eventually unravels the tangled relationships of all those involved. Unlike the dangerous and belligerent ghosts in conventional horror films, the ghost here awakens us to hope in life and concern for others.

New Styles

At the 2021 Blue Dragon Film Awards, the best new director award went to Hong Eui-jeong for “Voice of Silence.” As with “Intruder,” the main character is a man, but one who is depicted quite differently, with the narrative swiftly following his gaze as he reacts to an ever-evolving situation. Appraised by critics as “a crime film of a style

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Recent genre films are characterized by the way they abide by the genre’s rules but tweak them slightly to give the films a new twist. 1. “The Day I Died: Unclosed Case” (2020), directed by Park Ji-wan, traces the mystery surrounding the disappearance of a girl, but the focus is on people empathizing with each other and trying to find meaning in life. 2. In director Sohn Won-pyung’s 2020 debut feature, “Intruder,” the patriarchal head of the household is rejected and alienated by his own family after they accept a woman claiming to be his sister who went missing 25 years ago.

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never seen before,” this is the work of an ambitious new director keen on trying something new. The movie addresses murder and kidnapping without much violence, engaging the audience with its story alone while avoiding the clichés of crime films. Tae-in (played by Yoo Ah-in) and his colleague Changbok are subcontractors who take care of dead bodies for a criminal organization. Unlike ordinary crime films, there’s no explanation as to why the gangsters commit murder or how the two men started to assist in the crimes. Instead, they are portrayed as ordinary workers diligently going about their jobs. The audience is drawn into the strange chemistry between them, forgetting about the nature of their work. Crime is just a part of their everyday lives, like eating or sleeping. But their daily routine is suddenly disrupted as they find themselves stuck with a kidnapped child. Taein changes when forced to take care of the 11-year-old girl, and the relationship between them develops in an unexpected way. Overall, the film shines a spotlight on the absurd circumstances faced by the characters while enlivening the personal appeal and strength of each, maintaining a superb balance throughout the story. “The Day I Died: Unclosed Case,” directed by Park Ji-wan, also deftly balances the entertainment value of the genre with cinematic meaning. The thriller traces the mysterious disappearance of a girl who seems to have jumped KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

from a cliff into the sea on a stormy night, leaving a suicide note. Hyun-su, the detective investigating the case, is mentally unstable at first. As she follows the footsteps of the missing girl, however, she realizes how the girl struggled to stay alive, just like herself, and tackles the case not as a detective but as an individual who strongly identifies with the victim. For quite a while, Hyun-su wonders if she should file the case as a missing person or a suicide. It’s her hesitation that adds depth to the story. While the thrill of hunting for clues and solving a case is an important part of any mystery film, “The Day I Died” shifts focus to the character’s inner world rather than the mystery itself. In sum, the movie is a thoughtful thriller that tries to make room for the spectacle of emotions by suppressing that which ordinarily defines the genre.

Querying the Genre

In this way, recent genre films are characterized by the way they abide by the genre’s rules but tweak them slightly to give the films a new twist. By artfully betraying expectations, they breathe fresh air into a category of film overrun with stale clichés. The works of the women directors discussed above pose questions about film noir itself. While these women are seemingly uninterested in offering the pleasures unique to the genre, they create fun in a different way by injecting new perspectives. 29


ocumentaries don’t necessarily show reality as it

D

situations occurred, but in the game world, rewards were

is. Instead, reality is transplanted into a cinematic

granted according to time and effort invested.

a stronger and more intense power than reality itself. This

Macros and Hacking

is precisely what happens with “People in Elancia,” direct-

The problem is that the utopia didn’t last long. As the de-

ed by Park Yun-jin.

veloper stopped updating the game, leaving many bugs

structure and reorganized in ways that sometimes wield

Elancia, the third game developed by the online game

unaddressed, it became a lawless place where hacking

publisher Nexon, had a story that mixed Eastern and

was rampant and all sorts of macros, programming in-

Western cultural elements through lovely graphics. It

puts that automate tasks, were used. There was also an

attracted a throng of female users to the traditionally

increase in malicious users who would strengthen their

male-dominated online game market, and remained one

characters by unfair means or interrupt other players.

of the most popular games for quite some time. How-

With illegitimate macros running the game even when

ever, its popularity gradually waned as Nexon’s other

most of the users had disappeared, Elancia became a

games, including Nexus: The Kingdom of the Winds (Ko-

strange world working on its own instead of being creat-

rea’s very first online game), KartRider, MapleStory and

ed and modified by users.

Mabinogi, were opened in many other countries, played in e-sports leagues, or adapted for TV animations.

Demotivated to play or otherwise having nothing else to do inside the game, users would gather in its chat

Park Yun-jin played the old game under the nickname

room. Over time, their conversations came to be all that

“my-sister-jun-ji-hyun” (hence the film’s Korean title, “My

remained of Elancia. The game screen is now covered

Sister Jun Ji-hyun and I”) with a handful of other remaining

with a constant flow of text, like the traces of alienated

users. The film started from the question, “Why do we still

users struggling to prove their existence.

stay in this game?” The movie starts by going back to the tumultuous late

Evidence of Existence

1990s, when Korea was suffering in the aftermath of the

Even viewers with no knowledge of the game are drawn

1997 Asian financial crisis. At a time when anxiety and

into the idea of this documentary by the expression

despair prevailed, Elancia reflected collective desires for

“doomed game.” “Doomed” (manghaetta in Korean) is a

a world where anyone could be or do anything. In the

word often used in real life. Embittered by repeated frus-

real world, hard work often went unrewarded and unfair

trations in a low-growth society, many young people say

THE REASONS THEY STAY PEOPLE IN ELANCIA

Elancia, an MMORPG released by Nexon in 1999, once had more players than any other game. But after years of neglect by its developer, it ended up becoming a “doomed game.” The 2020 documentary, “People in Elancia,” brings to light the reasons why its director Park Yun-jin and her fellow players still love the game two decades later. Kim So-hui Film Critic

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with resignation, “I’m doomed in this life.” However, they still live, no matter how hopeless they feel their lives are. In this way, the word “doomed” may be an ironic declaration that they are still alive or want to be alive. A small number of users continue to visit Elancia, which no longer has a system administrator. Talking with them, the director tries to capture the present moment of listless youths in their 20s and 30s who are precariously holding out. The game’s ecosystem was destroyed by the infiltration of illegitimate macros, forcing users to accept what was imposed upon them instead of enjoying the game on their own terms – in a way similar to what many young people experience today in real life.

Loose Relationships Just as they had no reason to stay in the game, they have no reason to leave it, either. In the virtual world, they listen to other people’s stories and sympathize with them, sometimes offering consolation. If there is a reason they have played the game for so long in the first place, it must be the other people who remain with them. These loose relationships keep them in Elancia, holding on to a world that could end at any time. The director interviews those users to deliver their opinions to the staff at Nexon. This doesn’t appear to be an effort to save the game, however. Rather, it may be the struggle of alienated individuals to restore their sense of self.

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Just as they had no reason to stay in the game, they have no reason to leave it, either. 2

1. A screenshot from Elancia, Nexon’s MMORPG. 2. Director Park Yun-jin talks with other users of Elancia. 3. The poster of “People in Elancia.” In the 2020 documentary, the director examines why her fellow users can’t just leave the game two decades after it became functionally inoperative.

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SPECIAL FEATURE 5

Women’s Narratives: A New Wave of Korean Cinema

ROOM FOR THE ATYPICAL Women-centered narratives in popular media, from movies and webtoons to TV dramas and reality shows, have gained a firm foothold at center stage of Korean popular culture. Jung Duk-hyun Popular Culture Critic

T

he grandmother in Lee Isaac Chung’s movie “Minari” (2020) likes to play hwatu (Korean “flower card” game), enjoys watching pro wrestling matches and has no qualms about using curse words. In short, she turns the archetypal image of Korean mothers and grandmothers on its head. Demure, deferential and soft-spoken she is not. Youn Yuh-jung won the Academy Award for best supporting actress for embodying the feisty grandmother. It was the latest in her long career of portraying an atypical Korean woman. When Youn began acting, her contemporaries were gaining attention as the heroines of tragic love stories or as pretty, young hostesses. Youn played fierce, provocative characters who weren’t afraid to act on their desires. For her big-screen debut, Youn pounced on a femme fatale role in “Woman of Fire” (1971). Directed by Kim

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Ki-young, a pioneer of the psycho-thriller genre in Korean cinema, the movie features a young maid raped by the head of the household. She unravels when pressured to get an abortion, and commits murder. The role earned Youn awards for best actress at local and international film festivals.

Shedding Stereotypes

The following year, Youn starred in the thriller “Insect Woman” (1972), also directed by Kim. Considered a sequel to “Woman of Fire,” it deals once more with jealousy and love-hate relationships. Turning to television, Youn played the titular role in the period drama series “Jang Huibin” (1971-1972), a ferocious woman who becomes the king’s concubine. After a lengthy hiatus to take care of her family, Youn resumed her acting career in the late 1980s, continuing to take on unconventional roles KOREANA SUMMER 2021


1 © Pioneer Pictures Film

2 © Cine21

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1. The poster for director Kim Ki-young’s 1971 domestic thriller, “Woman of Fire,” which marked the film debut of Youn Yuh-jung, winner of best supporting actress at the 2021 Academy Awards. In her breakout role, Youn played an innocent housemaid turning into an impassioned seductress. 2. Youn Yuh-jung (left) and Jeon Do-yeon in “The Housemaid,” a 2010 remake by director Im Sang-soo of Kim Ki-young’s 1960 film of the same name. Youn swept up awards for best supporting actress at numerous domestic film festivals for her role as an astute veteran housemaid in a rich household. 3. In “The Taste of Money” (2012), Youn plays the wife of a conglomerate CEO who flaunts her money and power, and makes sexual advances toward young men. The movie is director Im Sang-soo’s sequel to “The Housemaid.” 4. A scene from “The Bacchus Lady” (2016), directed by E J-yong, in which Youn plays an elderly prostitute who makes a living by catering to old men.

4 © Cine21

© KOREAN FILM COUNCIL

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that subverted stereotypes and norms. In 2019, the Korean Film Archive presented a special exhibition, “Centenary of Korean Film Through Female Characters,” with the subtitle, “The Bad Women, The Weird Women, The Dope Women,” which looked back on the conventional perception of femininity. As the subtitle indicates, independent women who openly expressed their desires or will were frowned upon, and representation of female characters in movies was distorted through the eyes of male directors. Perspectives began to shift in the 1990s as awareness of women’s rights was magnified. A new cadre of female directors and producers brought new depths to scripts and characters. They moved women-centric sto-

1. The SBS drama series “Nobody Knows” (2020) follows the story of a tenacious female detective who is determined to find out why a young boy threw himself off a building.

ries from the margins to the forefront of popular culture, with many winning critical acclaim as well as commercial success. Some notable examples of recent feminist films that have been favorably received by both critics and audiences alike include Kim Do-young’s “Kim Ji-young: Born 1982” (2019), based on the bestselling novel by Cho Nam-joo; Kim Bo-ra’s “House of Hummingbird” (2018), a commercial hit that won numerous awards at major international film festivals; Kim Cho-hee’s “Lucky Chansil” (2019); Yoon Dan-bi’s “Moving On” (2019); and Hong Eui-jeong’s “Voice of Silence” (2020). Today, Korean films with female lead characters are no longer restricted to the realm of feminism. They have broadened into an array of narratives, including wartime sex slavery, female employees exposing corporate corruption and heroic women fighting crime. Particularly noteworthy is that this trend is being embraced by other entertainment media.

2. The SBS drama series “Hyena” (2020) highlights the intense rivalry between an elite male lawyer from a wealthy family of lawyers and a gritty female lawyer who is hell-bent on success and wealth.

Beyond Feminism

3. The cable tvN drama series “Birthcare Center” (2020) resonated among female viewers with a realistic presentation of the changes women face in their lives after childbirth.

TV serials have seen a shift in trends, moving from soap operas to family dramas and melodramas, and most recently, to genre dramas, a change which has occurred

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in tandem with the evolution of female characters. In soap operas or family dramas, women were portrayed as passive characters resigned to their fate as dictated by patriarchal institutions, or modern Cinderellas who meet a rich man and succeed in climbing the social ladder. One early departure was “The Queen of Office” (2013, KBS2), which features an unmarried woman certified in so many skills that she is intimidating. Instead of a steady, full-time position normally coveted by single women, she refuses anything but short stints at companies. The star, Kim Hye-soo, won the highest award for acting in a drama series at the 2013 Korean Culture Entertainment Awards. “Strong Girl Bong-soon” (2017, JTBC), one of the highest-rated series on Korean cable TV, portrays a teen bodyguard who pummels thugs; “Mr. Sunshine” (2018, tvN) stars a female sniper working with an anti-Japanese militia; and “Hyena” (2020, SBS TV) is about a female lawyer hell-bent on success at all costs. Traditional storylines have not been abandoned com-

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Perspectives began to shift in the 1990s as awareness of women’s rights was magnified. A new cadre of female directors and producers brought new depths to scripts and characters. pletely. “The World of the Married” (2020, JTBC), about infidelity and the emotional pain it fosters between a couple, became the highest-rated drama ever on Korean cable TV. “Birthcare Center” (2020, tvN) deals with the conflicts in social relationships women navigate after pregnancy and childbirth, while “No, Thank You” (2020, KakaoTV), based on a popular webtoon, delicately captures the unfortunate fallout of Korea’s patriarchal conventions through the discrimination a woman suffers from her in-laws. Female-centric narratives are also beginning to gain more prominence in webtoons. A leading example is “Jeong-nyeon” (2019-2020, Naver Webtoon), which highlights an all-female traditional musical troupe that was popular in the 1950s.

Evolving Narratives

© KEYEAST

Seen through the prism of broader public discourse, the evolution of female roles in movies and TV followed the removal of political and economic limitations. Korea achieved phenomenal postwar economic growth, but political and labor rights were pushed to the side until grassroots movements yielded reform in the late 1980s. Political and economic democratization then led to “democracy 3 in everyday life,” manifested most prominently in calls for greater gender equality. Popular culture in Korea has evolved alongside the shifting values and sentiments of the public with the times. The entertainment industry’s willingness to embrace female narratives can be seen as a part of this trend, also visible in other countries around the world. More than ever, stories about women are at the center of the public’s interest, both at home and abroad. © CJ ENM

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FOCUS

DILKUSHA

Palace of

’ Heart s

’ Delight

The most recognizable Western-style home in Seoul during the 1920s fell into the dustbin of history, literally and figuratively. Decades later, the role of its occupants and their life story inspired a government-led restoration, turning the worn-down building into an attractive house museum. Kwon Ki-bong Writer

Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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1 © Seoul Museum of History

1. Dilkusha, a Western-style red-brick house in Haengchon-dong, Seoul, was built in 1923 by American businessman and news correspondent Albert Taylor and his wife, British actress Mary Linley Taylor. An old photograph of the house appeared in “Village Outside Donuimun, Below the Fortress Wall: History, Space, Housing,” published in 2009 by the Seoul Metropolitan Government.

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2, 3. Albert Taylor arrived in Korea in the late 1890s, when his father started a gold mining project in North Pyongan Province. Taylor and his British actress wife, Mary Linley, were expelled to America by Japan in 1942. He died in California in 1948 and his ashes were brought to Seoul to be laid next to his father’s grave. 4. Dilkusha exemplifies the construction techniques of Western-style houses built in Korea in the early 20th century. The outer wall was built by laying bricks on the side with alternating layers of headers and stretchers.

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distinctive two-story, red-brick house stands in a dense residential neighborhood on a hillside overlooking a royal palace in central Seoul. Its cornerstone reads: DILKUSHA 1923. At the time, it was the most prominent non-Korean-style house owned by Westerners in Seoul, but for many decades that followed, it was no more than a dilapidated mystery to onlookers. In the late 1890s, toward the end of the Joseon Dynasty, American businessman George Alexander Taylor (18291908) arrived in Korea for a gold mining project in North Pyongan Province. One of his sons, Albert Wilder Taylor, later married British actress Mary Linley and they christened their newly built home “Dilkusha,” in remembrance of a palace in northern India they had visited on their honeymoon. In Sanskrit, it means “Palace of Heart’s Delight.”

A Place in History

Following in his father’s footsteps, Albert also worked in gold mining. But he wore more than one hat. He established W. W. Taylor & Company in Sogong-dong, in the heart of Seoul, which imported and sold American cars, assorted household items and construction materials. He also served KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

as a correspondent for the Associated Press. Albert’s son, Bruce, was born at Severance Hospital on February 28, 1919, a day before the March 1 Independence Movement, when protests against oppressive Japanese colonial rule began to spread across the country. Before the groundswell, Korean activists printed their declaration of independence in the basement of the hospital, which was then raided by Japanese police. Their printing press was found but the manifesto was not. According to Mary Linley Taylor’s memoir, “Chain of Amber” (The Book Guild Ltd., 1992), a nurse secretly hid copies of the proclamation under the newborn’s quilt. When Albert arrived at the hospital and lifted their first child into his arms, he stumbled upon the copies. It only took a moment for him to realize the magnitude of his discovery. Mary wrote: “‘Korean Declaration of Independence,’ he exclaimed, astonished. To this day, I aver that, as a newly fledged newspaper correspondent, he was more thrilled to find those documents than he was to find his own son and heir. That very night, Brother Bill (Albert’s younger brother) left Seoul for Tokyo, with a copy of the Proclamation in the hollow of his heel, to get it off, with Albert’s report, 37


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1, 2. The second-floor living room in Dilkusha. Based on old photographs, the furnishings replicate the Taylors’ time in the house. The furniture and accessories, such as the landscape painting, vases, lamps, chairs and three-story chest, are a blend of East and West. 3, 4. The first-floor living room in Dilkusha. The house was restored to its original appearance in a two-year effort based on meticulous research.

over the cables to America, before any order could be issued to stop it.” The unthinkable was unfolding: After nine years under colonial rule, the Korean people were taking to the streets nationwide in a grassroots uprising against Imperial Japan. Albert’s report of the declaration reached newspaper readers across the world. After March 1, Albert reported on the brutal crackdown on protesters and the burning of innocent civilians. At the risk of retaliatory action by the Japanese government-general against his business, he exposed Japan’s atrocities to the world, hence playing a crucial role in drawing global attention to and sympathy for the anti-Japanese struggles of the Korean people. Naturally, he was an irritant to the Japanese authorities. Following the outbreak of the Pacific War in December 1941, Japan prohibited citizens of “enemy states” from residing in its territory. Albert was arrested by the Japanese military and confined at Seodaemun Prison for six months while Mary was kept under close surveillance. The next year, they were expelled to America. The Taylors faded from Korea’s collective conscience. Then, in 2006, 64 years after their expulsion, Bruce Taylor and his daughter Jennifer traveled to Seoul. Their visit revived old memories and informed postwar generations of Albert Taylor’s role in Korean history. It also prompted the Seoul Metropolitan Government 38

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and the central government to preserve Dilkusha. The task was a formidable one; a safety inspection had deemed the house uninhabitable, though squatters had occupied it since the 1960s.

Restoration

Even to the naked eye the building looked unstable. Bricks were missing, cracked concrete walls exposed steel reinforcing bars, and a carelessly thrown tarp covered the sagging, leaky roof. Inside, sections had been removed or haphazardly patched up. They included the area underneath the staircase between the first and second floors where the Taylor family had hidden when Japanese soldiers came to arrest them before their deportation, the fireplace in the second-floor study, the foyer, stairs, flooring and window frames. To prevent further damage and preserve its history, the house was designated as a “Registered Cultural Property” in 2017, two years after Bruce Taylor passed away. Renovations began the following year, based on photographs that Mary had left behind, and the furnishings were faithfully reproduced, from a Glenwood Heater to the furniture the Taylors had used. Even small details such as the placement of a vase and candle stand were not overlooked. In addition to these reproductions, some of the 1,026 family artifacts, including old photographs, donated to the Seoul Museum of KOREANA SUMMER 2021


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History by the Taylors’ descendants, were also displayed. After the necessary amenities were installed, Dilkusha was opened to the public on March 1, 2021, the 102nd anniversary of the March 1 Independence Movement. Dilkusha, situated in Haengchon-dong, Jongno District, Seoul, is not just another house that was occupied by a foreign family. It was the abode of a dauntless man who risked personal safety to tell the world of the Korean people’s resistance against imperialism. In 1948, Albert died of a heart attack in California. Having spent more of his life in Korea than in America, he always wished to be laid to rest in Korea. To honor her husband’s wishes, Mary brought his ashes back to Korea on a U.S. military warship right after the establishment of the Republic of Korea, and buried them next to his father’s grave in the Yanghwajin Foreign Missionary Cemetery in Hapjeong-dong, Seoul. Mary passed away in 1982 at the age of 92 and was buried in California. When Bruce and Jennifer visited Korea in 2006, they brought with them soil they had dug up from Mary’s grave, which they sprinkled over Albert’s tomb; they then took soil from Albert’s grave back to California and scattered it over Mary’s tomb. Albert Taylor was among the many foreigners who backed Korea’s independence movement – both openly and covertly. British journalist Ernest T. Bethell (1872-1909), KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

It was the abode of a dauntless man who risked personal safety to tell the world of the Korean people’s resistance against imperialism.

who came to Korea in 1904 and lived just 200 meters from Dilkusha, founded the Korea Daily News along with Korean journalist and independence activist Yang Gi-tak (18711938). Bethell sharply criticized Japan’s policy of aggression and supported Korea’s fight for independence.

Foreign Allies

Frederick A. MacKenzie (1869-1931) covered the Korean resistance as a correspondent for the British newspaper, Daily Mail. From 1906 to 1907, he traveled to mountainous regions in Gyeonggi, Chungcheong and Gangwon provinces to interview anti-Japanese militias known as the “Righteous Armies.” He wrote two books, “The Tragedy of Korea” (1908) and “Korea’s Fight for Freedom” (1920), which constitute a valuable historical resource attesting to how even civilians engaged in fierce guerrilla warfare to defend their country against foreign aggression. Frank W. Schofield (1889 -1970) was a British-born Canadian missionary and medical scientist who served as a professor at Severance Union Medical College, forerunner of Yonsei University’s College of Medicine. He also reported on Japan’s massacres of Korean civilians to foreign media, for which he was deported in 1920. He returned to Korea in 1969, where he spent the last days of his life, and was the first foreigner to be interred in the Seoul National Cemetery. 39


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1. A scene from “Grass,” a graphic novel by Keum Suk Gendry-Kim, portraying a “comfort woman,” a victim of Imperial Japan’s wartime sexual slavery. 2. Gendry-Kim explores major historical events in her graphic novels while also centering the stories of those on the margins of society.

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INTERVIEW

Deep Inkwells of Emotion Translations of Keum Suk Gendry-Kim’s graphic novels attract global recognition – and none more so than “Grass,” which delves into the pain of the “comfort women” forced into wartime sexual slavery by the Imperial Japanese military. Kim Tae-hun Reporter, Weekly Kyunghyang Ha Ji-kwon Photographer

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eum Suk Gendry-Kim dives deeply into human suffering. Her subjects are Koreans and her settings are events in Korean history. Nevertheless, the anguish embossed in her works elicits a cross-cultural understanding and praise. Her 2017 graphic novel, “Grass,” featuring one of the “comfort women” victimized by the Japanese military before and during World War II, is the apex of the recognition she has earned so far. The English edition of “Grass” was released in 2019 by Canadian publisher Drawn & Quarterly and quickly garnered plaudits. The New York Times named it one of the best comics on its list of the best books of 2019, and The Guardian similarly called it one of the year’s best graphic novels. In 2020, “Grass” was showered with 10 awards, including the Krause Essay Prize and the Cartoonist Studio Prize, as well as the Harvey Award for Best International Book at the New York Comic Con. “Grass” was recently made available in Portuguese and Arabic. Other books by Gendry-Kim include “Jiseul” (2014), which depicts the tragedy of the Jeju uprising in

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1948 against the division of Korea, and “Alexandra Kim, a Woman of Siberia” (2020), which traces the life and times of Korea’s first-ever Bolshevik. Gendry-Kim’s latest, “The Waiting,” about family separation, is already out in French and in the process of publication in English, Portuguese, Arabic and Italian. At a café on Ganghwa Island, where she now lives, Gendry-Kim shared her thoughts. How did you end up as a graphic novelist? Well, after I majored in Western-style painting in Korea, I went to France where I studied installation art at the École Supérieure des Arts Décoratifs de Strasbourg. To make ends meet, I took part-time jobs translating the work of Korean cartoonists into French, eventually making a bit of a name for myself in that arena. Actually, I translated over 100 Korean comic books and helped them find a French audience. Then one day, a Korean newspaper based in France asked whether I might be interested in trying my hand at drawing comics myself. Meanwhile, translating all those comics had opened my eyes to the possibilities of the art form. I was captivated by the fact that these authors were able to express themselves so freely and fully with just paper and pencil. So I began drawing, one at a time, and before long I had quite a few. From the very beginning, I spent a lot of time and effort considering the best way to capture the flow of conversation, whether in speech bubbles or otherwise. What works influenced you? In terms of story, I’ve been influenced by many Korean authors. Lee Hee-jae and Oh Se-young, for example, are two that come to mind; they did a particularly fine job of representing the father figures of our generation in comic book form. In terms of the art, as most of my own fine art work has been abstract rather than representational, or even installation or sculpture, I always thought of myself as not being very skilled at drawing. That said, among those artists who have certainly influenced my graphic style are Edmond Baudoin and Jose Muñoz, who published a graphic novel version of Camus’s “The Stranger” – especially in terms of emphasizing the weight of the black brush strokes. The works of David B. and Jacques Tardi, too, have also helped shape mine in many ways. Which early work best introduces you? I tend to weave autobiography together with various things that I’ve felt in the course of daily life and the individual stories of people I’ve met. I try to center the most earnest 41


stories that emerge as I forge connections between things I’ve experienced firsthand and various historical events and societal issues. Of these, “Le chant de mon père” (The Song of My Father, 2013) is a story set in 1970s-80s Korea, when economic reasons force an ordinary farming family in the countryside to make the move to Seoul to try to build a new life. That was me using a difficult period in my own family history as a lens to reflect what was a fairly universal Korean experience at that time. I also wanted to capture some of my childhood memories. My father sings pansori, so when I was young, whenever someone in the village passed away, he would perform the funeral song. After we moved to Seoul, though, there was no way of knowing whether anyone in the neighborhood had passed, and there was no occasion anymore for my father to sing. Your father and now your mother are your subjects. “The Waiting” (2020) is a work entirely about my mother. Twenty years ago when I was studying in Paris, my mother came to visit me, and it was then that she shared something with me for the first time: that her sister, my eldest maternal aunt, was in North Korea. A long time ago, their family took a big trip from their home in Goheung, South Jeolla Province, all the way to Manchuria, stopping in Pyongyang along the way. Something happened while they were there and my mother returned to the South but my eldest aunt stayed there. Before my mother told me about this, I had no idea that it was part of our family story. My mother was very disappointed when she wasn’t selected to be part of the North-South family reunion efforts run by the Ministry of Unification. This made it feel even more vital for someone to tell her story, and I made up my mind that it would be me – a kind of gift, an offering dedicated to my mother. Family separation, though, is an issue that goes far beyond the story of my own family; it’s a universal problem faced by all of humanity, happening even now in war-torn areas all over the world. Ultimately, I wanted to cover the way war results in the victimization of the vulnerable, in their displacement and scattering. “Grass” might also be called a tragedy of humanity. If I try and remember when I first started thinking about writing “Grass,” I think the actual inception point was in

the early 1990s, when I saw a documentary about the plight of the comfort women. Then later, in France, I actually had a gig working as an interpreter for an event about comfort women, and as I did my research for that, I ended up learning more details. This is how I eventually ended up submitting the short story “Secret” to the 2014 Festival International de la Bande Dessinée d’Angoulême. I wanted to give voice to the lives and pain of the comfort women victims from the perspective of a fellow woman. Because “Secret” was a short piece, though, I was unable to go as deep as I would have liked for such a heavy topic. So I kept at it for three more years, in the end, and did a whole lot more agonizing, finally turning it into a fulllength novel. I approached the issue of the comfort women as a matter of violence against the vulnerable, of imperialism and class stratification. Meeting and interviewing Grandma Lee Ok-seon, who appears in the novel, I was especially saddened by how she had been silenced. Grandma Lee was the victim of a cruel and wretched war, unable to speak up. But then even after the war, mainstream society wanted her to stay quiet. I wanted to speak to that very atmosphere. Why do your works have such wide appeal? Well, it’s true that France has seen the release of most of my works in translation. When it came to the Japanese translation of “Grass,” I was quite surprised to see locals put together a crowdfunding campaign to help pay for its Japanese publication and distribution. More than anything, I’m very grateful to all the translators. My stories are fairly distinctive and tend to be about pain, which can’t be easy to communicate across cultures. It’s thanks to people like Mary Lou, who did the Italian translation; Korean-American translator Janet Hong, who did the English; and Sumie Suzuki, who did the Japanese, that readers in so many different countries are able to experience the meaning of the work in full. Do you have a new project now? I’ve been walking my dogs every single day without fail. That’s not the only reason, of course, but I do have sketches complete for a book about the relationship between dogs and humans. The working title, for now, is “Rainy Season.”

“I try to center the most earnest stories that emerge as I forge connections between things I’ve experienced firsthand and various historical events and societal issues.” 42

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1. Gendry-Kim’s latest graphic novel depicts the relationship between dogs and humans. It is slated for publication by Maumsup Press in Seoul later this year and Futuropolis in France in early 2022. 2. The graphic novels of Gendry-Kim (clockwise from left): an English-language edition of “Grass,” published by Canadian press Drawn & Quarterly in 2019; “The Waiting,” published in Korea last year by Ttalgibooks; last year’s “Alexandra Kim, a Woman of Siberia” from Korean publisher Seohaemunjip; a French edition of “The Waiting,” released this May in France by Futuropolis; an English edition of “The Waiting,” forthcoming this September from Drawn & Quarterly; a 2017 Korean edition of “Grass” from Bori Publishing; last year’s Japanese edition of “Grass” from Korocolor Publishers; and last year’s Portugese edition of “Grass” from Brazilian press Pipoca & Nanquim. 2

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© Drawn & Quarterly

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ART REVIEW

Stars Shining Together in the Dark From the 1930s to the 1950s, Korea was shrouded in poverty. But writers and artists persevered and pursued their dreams, assisted mostly by friends and colleagues. A rare exhibition at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art in Deoksu Palace, Seoul, traces how these creative minds overcame manifold obstacles through camaraderie and cooperation. Choi Ju-hyun Editor, Artinsight

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he 1930s was a difficult time in Korean history when Japanese colonial rule grew more oppressive. But it was also a time of modernization and great social change, particularly in Seoul, then called Gyeongseong. Trams and cars ran on paved roads, and luxurious department stores were in business. The streets were swarming with “modern boys” and “modern girls,” who showed off their style in trendy suits or high heels. With hopelessness about reality coexisting with romantic ideas about the modern times, Gyeongseong was a city of artists and writers as well. They frequented the coffeehouses, called dabang, which had emerged in the downtown area. Creative minds found more than just coffee and tea in these spots. Surrounded by exotic interior decorations and the deep scent of coffee, they discussed the latest trends in the European art scene, such as the avant-garde movement, as Enrico Caruso played in the background.

Coffeehouses and Avant-Garde Art

The poverty and despair of a colonized country could not dampen this creative spirit. The fervor for creativity amid difficult circumstances was underpinned by friendships and collaborations between artists and writers who shared the pain of the times and sought a way forward together. 44

Today, at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art in Deoksu Palace, Seoul, the exhibition “Encounters between Korean Art and Literature in the Modern Age” is enjoying considerable public interest for revisiting those years of “paradoxical romanticism.” Despite inconveniences due to social distancing in the COVID pandemic, the exhibition has drawn a steady stream of visitors. As the title indicates, the exhibition sheds light on how painters, poets and novelists traversed genres and fields, shared ideas and influenced one another to realize their artistic ideals. Introducing the activities of some 50 artists and writers, the exhibition consists of four parts. “Confluence of the Avant-Garde” in Gallery 1 focuses on Jebi (meaning “swallow”), the coffeehouse run by the famous poet, novelist and essayist Yi Sang (1910-1937), and highlights the relationships among the artists and writers who were regulars there. Having trained as an architect, Yi worked as a draftsman in the public works department of the Government-General of Korea for a time, but he quit and set up the coffeehouse when he was diagnosed with tuberculosis. Known for his surrealist oeuvre, including the short story, “Wings,” and the experimental poem, “Crow’s Eye View,” Yi is one of the pioneers of modern Korean literature of the 1930s. Jebi didn’t have much to show for itself, other KOREANA SUMMER 2021


1. “Still Life with a Doll” by Gu Bon-ung (1906-1953). 1937. Oil on canvas. 71.4 × 89.4 cm. Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art. When academism centered on impressionism was in vogue, Gu Bon-ung was attracted to Fauvism. As suggested by the French art magazine Cahiers d’art in this painting, Gu and his friends appreciated the contemporary art trends of Western countries.

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2. “Self-portrait” by Hwang Sul-jo (1904-1939). 1939. Oil on canvas. 31.5 × 23 cm. Private collection. Hwang Sul-jo, who belonged to the same artists’ group as Gu Bon-ung, accomplished a unique painting style, mastering different genres including still lifes, landscapes and portraits. This self-portrait was done the year he died at the age of 35. 3, 4. Cheongsaekji (Blue Magazine), Vol. 5, May 1939 (left); Vol. 8, February 1940. Cheongsaekji, which was first published in June 1938 and ended with its eighth volume in February 1940, was a comprehensive art magazine edited and published by Gu Bon-ung. It covered many fields, including literature, theater, film, music and fine arts, and provided quality articles contributed by famous writers.

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than a self-portrait of Yi and a few paintings by his childhood friend Gu Bon-ung (1906-1953) hanging on the bare walls. Though humble with no remarkable visual attraction, the shop was a favorite hangout of poor artists. Aside from Gu, regulars included novelist Park Tae-won (1910-1986), who was on close terms with Yi, and poet and literary critic Kim Gi-rim (1908-?), to name a few. They huddled together in the coffeehouse, discussing not only art and literature but also the latest trends and works in different media, such as film and music. To them, Jebi was not just a gathering spot but a creative lab where they absorbed knowledge and inspired one another. They were especially interested in Jean Cocteau’s poetry and René Clair’s movies. Yi hung up quotes from Cocteau’s poems, and Park wrote “Conte from a Movie: The Last Billionaire,” a parody of Clair’s satirical piece on fascism, “Le Dernier milliardaire” (1934). It’s fascinating to see how their works reveal their comradeship and the marks they left on one another’s lives. In Gu’s painting, “Portrait of a Friend” (1935), the man sitting askew is none other than Yi himself. The two were four years apart in age but close friends from their school days. Meanwhile, Kim spared no praise for Gu’s Fauvist style, which broke free from

conventions. And when Yi died at the age of 27, Kim mourned his premature death and published the first collection of Yi’s works in 1949. While alive, Yi had designed the cover of Kim’s first poetry anthology, “Weather Chart,” published in 1936. He also did the illustrations for Park’s novella, “A Day in the Life of Kubo the Novelist” (1934), which was serialized in the daily Joseon Jungang Ilbo. Park’s unique literary style and Yi’s surrealist drawings created idiosyncratic pages that were hugely popular with readers.

Poetry and Painting

Inserting illustrations in serial stories guaranteed a steady income for artists, even if only temporarily, and promoted the image of newspapers as a medium capable of reflecting both popular and artistic tastes. Many of these are featured in Gallery 2, which, resembling a neat library, brings together the achievements of print media, including newspapers, magazines and books, published between the 1920s and 1940s. Titled “A Museum Built from Paper,” this section offers the rare experience of flipping through the installments of serialized novels in newspapers, featuring drawings by 12 illustrators, including Ahn Seok-ju (1901-1950).

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1. Gallery 2 shows printed artworks dating to the 1920s -1940s. On display are books with beautiful covers as well as magazines carrying the works of illustrators, mostly published by newspaper companies. 2. “Natasha, the White Donkey, and Me” by Baek Seok (1912-1996) and Jeong Hyeon-ung (1911-1976). Adanmungo. This illustrated poem appeared in the March 1938 issue of Women, a magazine published by the Chosun Ilbo. The collaboration by poet Baek Seok and artist Jeong Hyeon-ung showcases the frequent exchange between writers and painters mediated by the new hwamun (“illustrated writing”) genre. 3. “Family of Poet Ku Sang” by Lee Jung-seop (1916-1956). 1955. Pencil and oil on paper. 32 × 49.5 cm. Private collection. Lee Jung-seop, who was staying at poet Ku Sang’s house in the wake of the Korean War, drew Ku’s happy family. At the time, Lee was missing his wife and two sons, who were in Japan. 2

Some newspaper companies also published magazines, giving birth to a genre of illustrated poems called hwamun. “Natasha, the White Donkey, and Me,” a famous poem by Baek Seok (1912-1996), is a noteworthy example dating to 1938. Illustrated by painter Jeong Hyeon-ung (1911-1976), it begins with the lines, “Tonight the snow falls endlessly /

because I, a poor man, / love the beautiful Natasha.” The illustration, marked by its orange and white spaces, echoes the tone of Baek’s poem, which describes a peculiar sense of emptiness captured with a vague warmth. The illustrated poem appeared in the literary magazine Yeoseong (Women), which the two men created together to be published by the

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The fervor for creativity amid difficult circumstances was underpinned by friendships and collaborations between artists and writers who shared the pain of the times and sought a way forward together.

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daily Chosun Ilbo. Baek wrote many lyric poems with a distinct local color, and Jeong worked actively as an illustrator. Although the two started off as work colleagues, their friendship grew much deeper. From time to time, Jeong would admire Baek seated next to him in the editorial office. In a short piece titled “Mister Baek Seok” (1939), published in another magazine, Munjang (Writing), Jeong praised the poet as being “as beautiful as a sculpture” and drew him immersed in his work. Their friendship continued after they both left Yeoseong; Baek went to Manchuria in 1940 and from there sent a poem titled, “To Jeong Hyeonung – From the Northern Land.” In 1950, after the two Koreas were divided, Jeong went to the North, where he reunited with Baek. He compiled a collection of Baek’s poems, with the back cover of the book featuring his own drawing of the poet, looking older and more mature than in the illustration for “Mister Baek Seok.”

Writings by Artists

Gallery 3, “Fellowship of Artists and Writers in the Modern Age,” stretches into the 1950s, bringing into the spotlight the personal relationships among the artists and writers of the day. At the center of their personal network was Kim Gi-rim, and his connections expanded beyond his contemporaries to artists of the next generation. Using his profession as 48

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2 © Whanki Foundation · Whanki Museum

1. Covers of the magazine, Contemporary Literature (Hyeondae Munhak), which was inaugurated in January 1955. They were illustrated by renowned artists, such as Kim Whanki (1913-1974), Chang Uc-chin (1918-1990) and Chun Kyung-ja (1924-2015), among others. 2. “18-II-72 #221” by Kim Whanki. 1972. Oil on cotton. 49 × 145 cm. Kim Whanki, well-versed in literature and close to many poets, published illustrated essays in various magazines. The lyrical, abstract dot paintings that marked the late period of Kim’s career first appeared in his oeuvre in the mid-1960s, when he was in New York. Early signs of these paintings can be found in the letters he sent to poet Kim Gwang-seop (1906-1977).

a newspaper journalist to advantage, Kim led the initiative of discovering new artists and introducing them to the public through his reviews. This baton was then passed onto Kim Gwang-gyun (19141993), a poet and businessman who played a similar role by providing financial support to talented artists. It’s no surprise, then, that quite a few of the exhibits in this gallery come from his personal collection. The one work that probably makes most visitors stop to look is the painting, “Family of Poet Ku Sang,” by Lee Jung-seop (1916-1956). In the piece from 1955, Lee looks upon Ku’s family with envy. Lee had parted with his wife and two sons during the war; he sent them to Japan because the family was enduring extreme financial distress. Though he had hoped to be reunited with them by selling his paintings, the only private exhibition he barely managed to put together failed to bring in the money that he needed. “Family of Poet Ku Sang” is displayed in Gallery 3, along with letters sent to Lee by his JapaKOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

nese wife, recalling the tragic story of the family and the genius artist’s lonely death in poverty and illness. The final part of the exhibition in Gallery 4, “Writings and Paintings by Literary Artists,” features six famous artists who were also literary talents. They include Chang Uc-chin (1918-1990), who cherished the beauty of simple and trivial things; Park Ko-suk (1917-2002), whose love of the mountains would last throughout his life; and Chun Kyung-ja (1924-2015), who enjoyed popularity for her colorful painting style and candid personal essays. Also gracing this section are four dot paintings by Kim Whanki (1913-1974). As you approach these paintings and gaze at the microcosmos created by the countless dots that fill the canvas, the names of all the artists and writers you’ve met in the exhibition come back to mind. It seems all the creative talents who shone brightly together in a dark and gloomy period of Korean history have been summoned to gather in one place – at last. 49


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GUARDIANS OF HERITAGE

Heavenly Stitches with Threads of the Heart Master embroiderer Choi Yoo-hyeon has worked ceaselessly with needle and thread for seven decades. She is recognized for taking Korean embroidery to a new level with her creative techniques and grand-scale renditions of Buddhist paintings. Choi Hye-jung Freelance Writer

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Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

nyone can appreciate the beauty of an exquisite piece of embroidery, but not everyone can endure the toilsome and tedious process of stitchby-stitch work over the seemingly endless hours required for its production. This is especially true for traditional embroidery, which is generally more elaborate in procedure, diversified in technique and expressive of an underlying spirit. “If embroidery was just hard and tedious for me, how could I have done it all my life? I’ve done it because I love it and enjoy it. I have also hoped to keep the traditional handicraft from disappearing entirely,” Choi said when asked if the work wasn’t too laborious. She continued, “I’m well over 80 now. When I was young, needlework was a big KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

Sakyamuni Buddha (detail) from “Buddhas of the Three Worlds.” 257 × 128 cm. Master embroiderer Choi Yoo-hyeon started to create embroidery renditions of Buddhist paintings in the mid1970s. Depicting the Buddhas of the past, present and future, “Buddhas of the Three Worlds” is a masterpiece that took more than 10 years to complete.

part of the household chores. Families made their own clothes and prepared bridal linens adorned with hand embroidery. I’m the youngest of seven siblings, and I naturally took up embroidery because that’s what my mother was always doing. I really became interested in embroidery when I was praised for a piece I had made for school homework. There was a time when I would embroider for more than 20 hours a day, without even eating or washing.”

Formal Training

At 17, Choi was lucky enough to meet Kwon Su-san, a renowned embroidery artist of the time, and begin formal training. At the time she took up the craft as a profession, traditional Korean embroidery was overshadowed by Japanese-style embroidery, which had been promoted as part of women’s occupational training. Practical skills for everyday items were taught at women’s universities and sewing schools. The teachers were mostly women who had studied in Japan. This tendency continued after national liberation in 1945. In the 1960s, Choi opened an embroidery institute and also began to study traditional Korean embroidery with the goal of reviving and preserving it. Her initial efforts involved applying traditional designs to household items, such as pillow ends and floor cushions. In time, her interest gradually expanded to rendering traditional paintings in embroidery and further reinterpreting ancient artworks in her own style. “A good embroiderer needs nimble hands and a good sense of color, of course, but what’s more important is whether one has an eye for design,” Choi said. “You can’t create your own style by simply imitating others. That’s why I’ve designed my own works based on motifs from traditional pottery, landscapes and folk paintings.” In the 1960s and 1970s, amid a widespread disregard for traditional Korean culture, Choi’s embroidered works and their fresh approach to cultural heritage managed to catch the attention of a growing number of people. Her pieces were especially pop51


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ular among foreign tourists, but Choi had little interest in selling because she put the development of the craft above immediate economic gains. So, in the mid-1970s, she began concentrating on research and exhibitions, working on pieces based on Buddhist paintings, which she believed to be the culmination of traditional Korean art. Her Buddhist-themed masterpieces, representing the pinnacle of her seven-decade career, include “Eight Scenes of Buddha’s Life,” depicting the eight phases of Sakyamuni’s life, and “Buddhas of the Three Worlds,” portraying the Buddhas of the past, present and future. These embroidery paintings, each of which took more than 10 years to finish, are characterized by an exuberant combination of traditional and creative techniques, as well as varied textures resulting from the use of different threads – cotton, wool, rayon and silk. “I put my heart into each and every stitch, working like a monk devoted to spiritual practice,” Choi said. “After I first 52

1. “Lotus Repository World” (detail). 270 × 300 cm. For this embroidery painting based on the mandala at Yongmun Temple in Yecheon, North Gyeongsang Province, Choi was awarded the Presidential Prize at the 1988 Korea Annual Traditional Handicraft Art Exhibition. 2. “The Great Nirvana in the Sala Grove” from “Eight Scenes of Buddha’s Life.” 236 × 152 cm. Based on the namesake painting at Tongdo Temple in Yangsan, South Gyeongsang Province, this piece is characterized by elaborate and realistic expression. Depicting the eight phases of Sakyamui’s life, each scene contains a series of episodes featuring numerous figures on a single canvas.

came across the original painting of the ‘Eight Scenes of Buddha’s Life,’ called Palsangdo, at Tongdo Temple, I prayed and waited for 10 years for an opportunity to recreate it in embroidery. I finally gained the temple’s permission and began the work, but with each scene measuring over two meters in length, it took 12 years to embroider all eight of them. I worked with my students; otherwise, it would have taken even longer.”

Challenges

Her passion and perseverance were rewarded with a prestigious prize; her embroidered version of the “Lotus Repository World,” based on the mandala at Yongmun Temple in Yecheon, won the Presidential Prize at the 13th Korea Annual Traditional Handicraft Art Exhibition in 1988. In 1996, Choi was designated as a “living cultural treasure” in the art of embroidery, or National Intangible Cultural Property No. 80. This was official recognition that she had reached the highest level of expertise KOREANA SUMMER 2021


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ly. Ordinary households also had their own family legacies in the craft. Choi upholds the idea of “simseon sinchim,” meaning “threads from the heart for stitches of heaven.” Comparing her lifelong work to “heavenly stitches embroidered with her heart’s thread,” this was the title of her exhibition held at Seoul Arts Center in 2016. She explained, “Every piece is created through a painstaking process. First, I select an original painting, valuable historically and artistically, which can be rendered in embroidery, and then make a sketch on the ground fabric. Once I start embroidering, I have to make one decision after another with the entire picture in mind: the best color and texture for the fabric and the threads, the color scheme, the techniques to use, and so on. As I work, I personally twist my threads to vary their thickness in view of the overall composition and the location of the part in question. I make stitches and remove them over and over until I’m satisfied with the techniques applied and the color tones produced.”

Perfection

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in her field. The history of traditional Korean embroidery goes back to the Three Kingdoms period (57 B.C.-A.D. 676). People of the kingdoms of Goguryeo and its forerunner, Buyeo, are believed to have worn colorfully embroidered clothes, as described in the “Book of Wei,” the oldest extant literature mentioning Korean culture and a part of “Records of the Three Kingdoms” (Sanguozhi). During the Joseon Dynasty (13921910), an embroidery workshop installed in the palace was responsible for decorating clothes and accessories for the royal fami54

“Integrity” (detail) from the eightpanel folding screen “Pictorial Ideographs of Confucian Virtues.” 128 × 51 cm. When Choi began studying traditional embroidery in the 1960s, one of her major interests was the reinterpretation of folk paintings, including pictorial ideographs.

Throughout this rigorous process, Choi does everything to perfection. She stresses the importance of being faithful to the basics and following the traditional ways, in order to help transmit the handicraft to the next generations. For this purpose, she has committed herself to teaching as a chair professor at the Pusan National University’s Institute of Traditional Korean Costume. “Many people realize that traditional embroidery is beautiful and valuable, but very few are willing to learn it, and even those who do mostly give up halfway,” she said. “You need unremitting endurance, even after completing the proper training, to go through the long years of practice before being recognized as an artist. It’s such a thorny path that most don’t even attempt to challenge it.” She looks back at her life in her memoirs, “History of Choi Yoo-hyeon’s Embroidery,” which will be published soon. The KOREANA SUMMER 2021


“I put my heart into each and every stitch, working like a monk devoted to spiritual practice.” 1. To achieve greater artistry, Choi uses a wide array of techniques, both traditional and original, as well as threads of diverse colors and materials, such as silk, cotton, wool and rayon, to create delicate textures.

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2. For the last three years, Choi has been working on the “Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara,” based on the mural in the Hall of Great Light at Sinheung Temple in Yangsan, South Gyeongsang Province. Stitched on purple silk with only golden thread, it radiates with elegance and splendor.

book chronicles her interest as an artisan, shifting from practical household objects to folk paintings, and then again to Buddhist paintings. She is also compiling teaching materials for her students. And in addition to her annotated portfolio of over 100 works, published in several books, she is writing yet another book on her original techniques, each with a detailed description and explanation. At the same time, she is in the final stretch of embroidering the “Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara,” based on the mural enshrined in the Hall of Great Light (Daegwangjeon) at Sinheung Temple in Yangsan, South Gyeongsang Province. She has been working on the piece for the past three years, expecting it to be her last grand-scale project. Stitched on purple silk with only golden thread, it gives the impression of reaching the heights of exquisite splendor.

Remaining Mission

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“I don’t think I will be able to produce a large piece like this ever again,” Choi said. “I find it hard to work for even two or three hours a day now, because I get tired easily and my eyes get dim. Now it seems to be the time for me to devote my energy to teaching for my remaining mission to pass down as much as I can.” For almost half a century, Choi has safekept all her works, refusing to sell anything. Along with hundreds of pieces of traditional and modern embroidery she has collected from all over the country, her work is in storage at the National Intangible Heritage Center in Jeonju, North Jeolla Province, with support from the Cultural Heritage Administration. She hopes to see a new museum specializing in embroidery constructed in the near future to preserve and showcase her lifetime collection for as long as possible. 55


TALES OF TWO KOREAS

Seok Yeong-hwan

REFUGEE DOCTOR’S CHARITABLE SERVICE Seok Yeong-hwan left a comfortable medical career in North Korea for the South. As a groundbreaker in practicing traditional Korean medicine handed down on both sides of the peninsula, he generously helps those who cannot afford treatments. Kim Hak-soon Journalist; Visiting Professor, School of Media and Communication, Korea University Han Sang-mooh Photographer 56

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Seok Yeong-hwan opened a clinic in Seoul four years after fleeing North Korea in 1998. Along with medical treatment, he advises North Korean transplants on how to adjust to living in the South.

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o patients accustomed to acupuncture needles as thin as a strand of hair, the needles at Yeongdeungpo 100 Years Clinic can be intimidating. But patients from North Korea feel differently. Seok Yeong-hwan, 55, runs the clinic. Stacks of North Korean books on medicine, including “Koryo Medicine,” hint at his uniqueness. He is the first North Korean-born doctor licensed to practice traditional Korean medicine in South Korea. Abandoning a promising career as an army medical officer, Seok fled to the South with his girlfriend, now his wife, in October 1998. Taking advantage of his military rank to elude checkpoints and hitch rides, they traveled from Pyongyang to Seoul – across the DMZ, instead of via a third country as most refugees do – in only three days. The dream behind his 100 Years Clinic is to help patients have one hundred years of a happy, healthy life. North Korean transplants call the infirmary a “clinic for refugees.” They can receive treatment and even get life advice there without any fear of burdensome bills. Since opening in 2002, Seok has not accepted a single won from financially strapped patients.

Clinic for Refugees

“Some refugees complain that they have difficulty making themselves understood by medical professionals at many other hospitals or clinics. Refugees say they can bare their hearts to me and thus feel at home, to some extent,” Seok said. “Anyway, I arrived in Seoul before they did and I had the same experience. It’s hard for me to ignore their predicament as I understand them better than anybody else.” The clinic also receives many KoreanChinese patients, who agree that medicines and treatments prescribed and administered

by Seok are effective because their diet and lifestyle are similar to those of North Koreans. Even senior South Korean government officials were frequent visitors at Seok’s first location, near Gwanghwamun, the downtown section of Seoul. Skyrocketing rent forced him to close Gwanghwamun 100 Years Clinic in 2017, after 15 years in operation. His site in Yeongdeungpo District, located in southwestern Seoul, spans 661 square meters (double the size of his first clinic) at a lower price. Seok hails from Kapsan, a mountainous county in Ryanggang Province, North Korea. His family connections gave him a comfortable life. But after regime founder Kim Il-sung died in 1994, Seok began to feel disillusioned as he witnessed malnourished soldiers and heard other doctors recall their overseas experiences. He eventually yielded to these doubts and misgivings. When he fled the North, Seok was an army captain and surgeon serving as chief of emergency medical services at the North Korean People’s Army’s “Hospital 88.” Before that, he worked at the Research Center of Basic Medical Sciences in Pyongyang, also known as a “longevity research center.” It was one of the perks of being the son of a senior officer in the Supreme Guard Command, the equivalent of the Presidential Security Service in South Korea. Seok and his wife have since lost contact with their parents. Now, they have one son who is studying computer engineering at college, another son in high school and a daughter in middle school. Seok doesn’t know the whereabouts of his three brothers, either. “My relatives have vanished without a trace. People are saying that they’ve evaporated, literally,” he said. When Seok arrived in the South, there 57


were no established standards for North Korean refugees to become medical doctors. The Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Health and Welfare permitted him to sit for the licensing exam for traditional medicine based on the advice of the Society of Korean Medicine and other experts.

Starting Over

Studying far into the night, Seok struggled with South Korea’s traditional medical textbooks, which are full of difficult classical Chinese characters. He had only learned basic Chinese characters in the North. Three years after resettling in South Korea, he passed the licensing exam, becoming the first person to obtain such a qualification in both Koreas. He went on to earn a master’s degree in traditional medicine from Kyung Hee University in Seoul, and is now considering pursuing a PhD. According to Seok, one major difference between the traditional medical practices of the two Koreas is found in acupuncture techniques. “In the South, doctors use thin and small needles to give patients less of a stinging sensation. But in the North, they use very thick needles,” he said. “People normally think thick needles will give them more of a stinging sensation, but it’s not true. Patients feel relaxed and refreshed after an acupuncture treatment with large needles. It’s one of the things that refugees miss most.” His clinic is famous for a unique North Korean style of acupuncture techniques, with “super-size” and “fire” needles, and even gold needles that normally would be used only to treat senior officials in North Korea. The gold needles are 0.6mm in diameter, much larger than typical acupuncture needles, which are 0.12mm to 0.3mm in diameter. Traditional Korean medicine is based on Dongeui Bogam (Exemplar of Korean Medicine), a text compiled in 1610 by Heo Jun (1539-1615), a Joseon-era royal physician. But the two Koreas have diverged in its application since their division. 58

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1. Seok provides volunteer medical care on a weekly basis. He regards it as payback to the people in South Korea who helped him resettle and become the only person with medical licenses from both the North and the South. 2. The number of medical volunteers at the Hana Nanum Foundation, which Seok founded and currently leads, has grown to some 40. They include traditional medicine doctors and nurses.

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“I received many benefits from South Korean society in the process of settling here. It’s natural that I should return the kindness.”

be effective in treating stress disorders and preventing aging. Medical study in the North consists of six years in the classroom and six months of clinical training. Students of Koryo medicine attend classes in both Eastern and Western medical theory and practice. North Korean doctors normally use both Eastern and Western tests to examine a patient, but treatment is mainly based on Eastern medicine, according to Seok. The North also has an abundance of medicinal plants and a sound prescription service based on patients’ constitutional types, Seok explains. Patients’ own willpower to recover is most essential, and then followed by what medicines and treatment they receive from which doctor, he said.

Volunteer Healthcare

© Lee Ji-hye

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Therapeutic medicine has flourished in the North, where doctors treat patients based on the four-constitution (sasang) medicine developed by Yi Je-ma (18371900), a medical scholar of the late Joseon period. Under this system, patients with chronic diseases receive traditional treatment aimed at boosting their vitality and creating an immune response to fight disease.

Pride in ‘Koryo Medicine’

Seok is very proud of Koryo medicine. He employs “Yusimhwan” and “Taegohwan,” traditional medicinal globules, making use of his experience as a cardiovascular and hematology specialist at the Research Center of Basic Medical Sciences back in Pyongyang. The two types of sphere-shaped medications are known to have been favorites of Kim Il-sung and his son, Jong-il, when they were alive. They are believed to KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

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3. “Life-Saving Folk Medicine in North Korea,” a book on “Koryo medicine,” the North Korean version of traditional medicine, written by Seok. 4. Seok is the author of several books that introduce the North Korean version of traditional medicine. One is “Kim Il-sung’s Ways to Stay Healthy and Live Longer.” It describes the natural therapy used by the late North Korean leader.

Seok has published four books so far: “Life-Saving Folk Medicine in North Korea” (2003), “Climbing Mountains, Digging Wild Ginseng” (2003), “Kim Il-sung’s Ways to Stay Healthy and Live Longer” (2004) and “Healthcare in North Korea” (2006). He also provides volunteer medical care for elderly people, a service he began in 2004 with another traditional medical doctor from the North. “I received many benefits from South Korean society in the process of settling here. It’s natural that I should return the kindness. Volunteer work also makes me feel happier,” he said. Seok has been leading a volunteer group, initially called the “Federation of North Korean Refugees in Medical Profession,” which was then expanded and renamed as the “Hana Nanum Foundation” (hana meaning “one” and nanum meaning “sharing”), since its founding in 2015. The number of volunteers and supporters participating in the group has increased as the number of North Korean refugees in the medical profession and their sympathizers has grown. At present, the group has about 130 volunteers, including some 30 traditional medical doctors and physiotherapists. 59


IN LOVE WITH KOREA

Nikolaos Kordonias

NIKO’S PERFECT CONTENTMENT Longtime chef Nikolaos Kordonias joyfully serves the Mediterranean cuisine from his childhood, doing all the cooking at his restaurant in Seoul, where he has settled after many years on the road, in many kitchens. Cho Yoon-jung Freelance Writer and Translator Heo Dong-wuk Photographer

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n a tiny alley just a block away from Ikseon-dong, in the center of old Seoul, an unexpected haven of Greek culture beckons. Niko Kitchen, occupying a hanok, or traditional Korean house, showcases its devotion to true Greek cuisine, building a loyal clientele. The owner and chef, Nikolaos Kordonias, better known simply as “Niko,” grew up on Samothrace, an island in the Aegean Sea that is home to the mythical Sanctuary of the Great Gods, including Nike, the winged goddess of victory. Niko’s description of his ancient birthplace is idyllic. It conjures familiar images of a Greek island filled with whitewashed villas: “Beautiful, quiet, nice people. The pace of life is slow. The people are laid back, easygoing. They don’t worry. They have their houses, their work. They don’t expect a lot from life. But they have their standards and they’re happy.” And of course, there is “very good food.” The conversation lingers on organic produce, fresh chicken and tasty fish from the cobalt blue water around Samothrace. Growing up, the food that his mother and grandmother cooked captivated

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him. “It was the smells, I think,” Niko says. All of that informs his life and work today. When he arrived in Korea in 2004, he immediately noticed the scent of different foods. Soon, aromas guided the direction of his casual walks. “The smell of food stalls, the cooking in the street. It was different. It was in the air – the chili, the kimchi,” he recalls.

Making Korea Home

Niko had accepted an offer to work at Santorini, the now-closed Greek restaurant in Itaewon, a vibrant Seoul neighborhood with international flavor. He had no prior inkling of what Korea might be like, no experience except for childhood taekwondo lessons. But coming here wasn’t a difficult decision; moving was natural to him. After working on cruise ships traveling around Mediterranean and Caribbean seaports, he studied at a culinary institute in New York and worked in Manhattan with leading chefs. Then he spent about six years in Canada, where an acquaintance owned several restaurants. While cooking in Itaewon, Niko met Seo Hyeon-gyeong, who happened to be working

Every morning, owner-chef Nikolaos Kordonias personally opens the gate of his restaurant housed in a traditionalstyle Korean home near Changdeok Palace, Seoul. The nameplate sports a transliteration of Niko Kitchen.

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The diners have a leisurely meal, sip wine and unwind. This is what Niko likes to see, the mood that he wants to create.

1. Niko does all of the cooking alone. His menu features Greek home cooking and dashes of Spanish and Italian dishes. 2. Niko Kitchen has only four or five tables, so reservations are recommended. Niko hopes to eventually have a bigger restaurant and serve Greek food exclusively. 3. Greek salad made with fresh tomatoes, olives, cucumbers and onions, and topped with crumbly feta cheese is one of Niko Kitchen’s signature dishes.

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in the same building as Santorini. They ran into each other coming and going and ended up getting married. Niko packed away any thoughts of returning to Greece and Seo shelved plans of leaving for Japan, where she had lived for many years. “Some things are just meant to happen,” Niko says of the way Seoul became his permanent home. In 2018, Niko and his wife opened Niko Kitchen. He wasn’t looking for a hanok specifically, but its architectural style pleased him. When he took ownership, two stone statues of haechi, mythical fire-eating animals, came with the café that had previously occupied the building. They stand guard now in the exquisite little courtyard filled with potted flowering trees. Niko Kitchen is in an alley off a road once used by Joseon Dynasty soldiers when they patrolled around the royal ancestral shrine. Adjacent to the shrine is Changdeok Palace, a UNESCO World Heritage site. Close by is a historic Buddhist temple, and just a few strides along the 62

4. Reminders of Greece decorate Niko Kitchen. Magnets bearing photos of famous places in Greece cover one side of the refrigerator.

alley is the Saekdong Museum, exhibiting traditional Korean fabric featuring colorful stripes. The restaurant is open every day, and Niko does all of the cooking. His wife calls him a workaholic, but Niko seems perfectly happy. “This is my life and I like it,” he says. “I like food. I like people to like the food and smile and come back.” Between lunch and dinner, Niko allows himself a break; he strolls around Seoul, to palaces and temples, and to Cheonggyecheon, the restored stream flowing across the downtown area. Before the pandemic, he enjoyed relaxing at a sauna, but that’s on hold for now. Being in a quiet spot away from the buzzing activity of Ikseon-dong, Niko Kitchen has few walk-in customers. Nevertheless, it’s always fully booked. Korea’s insatiable appetite for cooking shows led to the restaurant, and Niko appeared as both a guest and a judge on several TV programs, such as Yeogi GO and O’live Show (on the cable channel Olive). As media exposure swelled, KOREANA SUMMER 2021


would-be diners appeared early in the morning, and telephoned and emailed at all hours. Niko acknowledges the benefits of the TV exposure, but for now, he wants to focus on his own kitchen.

Discovered by Foodies

The menu is based on Greek home cooking. Moussaka, a traditional dish made of eggplant and ground meat, is a perennial favorite with customers. Other popular dishes are Greek salad made with feta cheese, burrata salad, chicken souvlaki and shrimp saganaki. Because Greek food can still be unfamiliar to many Koreans, the menu also includes pizzas and pastas, but made in Niko’s own style with handmade sourdough. He opted for fusion cuisine so that his hands wouldn’t be tied. He likes the freedom of ladling up Spanish or Italian dishes when he’s in the mood. However, the keys to his food always remain the same: Mediterranean style, healthy and made with fresh, natural ingredients; mostly vegetarian, no sugar and minimum deep frying. In the early days, procuring Greek ingredients posed problems, but these days he can find everything he wants online. When a particular type of cheese or some other ingredient has to be obtained in a hurry, he stops by the shops in Itaewon, where he still lives today, on the way to work. Like most restaurants, Niko Kitchen lost business to the COVID pandemic. But it has fully recovered now. Many customers are regulars, including staffers from the Greek Embassy and even the monks from the temple nearby, whose colorful façade featuring scenes from the Buddhist sutras can be seen over the top of the restaurant’s front gate. The diners have a leisurely meal, sip wine and unwind. This is what Niko likes to see, the mood that he wants to create.

Days Ahead

When he muses about his adopted country, Niko mentions well-kept buildings and roads, an absence of public eyesores like graffiti, and the educated and polite population. “This is like a paradise, the perfect place. That’s why I’m happy to be here,” he explains. Although he says he doesn’t really miss Greece, once the pandemic is over and the world KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

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begins to heal, Niko would like to go back to Samothrace. He wants to relax a bit, see his family and friends, eat some good food and do some sea fishing. He’s also looking forward to the next step in his life, which is to open a bigger restaurant where the menu will be exclusively Greek dishes, not fusion. He’s been testing the waters and now has an idea of what people like and don’t like. Thus, he anticipates applying all his experience and knowledge in one place. “I want to make people happy – and make some money, too,” he says. “Eat good food and you will feel good.” This is Niko’s simple philosophy. That said, his wife chips in with a revealing rejoinder: Niko likes hamburgers and occasionally indulges in Kentucky Fried Chicken. Food is what brought him to Korea, what keeps him here and what makes him happy. “At the end of the day, if people aren’t satisfied, then you’re tired. But if people are satisfied and smile, then all your problems and fatigue go away.” 63




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eering through the ancient byways of Seochon, you can see both Gyeongbok Palace, the official royal residence of the Joseon Dynasty (13921910), and Cheong Wa Dae, the presidential office, at the foot of Mt. Bugak. It’s this proximity that led to Seochon becoming the centuries-long enclave of officials and scholars, who walked to the palace. Seochon means “west village,” in reference to its direction from the palace. It hugs the foot of Mt. Inwang, once a defensive barrier when Seoul was a walled city. Amid the COVID pandemic, people who have learned to enjoy solitary hikes up Mt. Inwang love to stand at the top and lose themselves in the view of Seoul spread below. Seochon is now one of Seoul’s greatest attractions, along with the hanok village Bukchon, meaning “northern village.” Both places are filled with charming alleys lined with traditional-style homes, more than a few of which are hundreds of years old. Many are now stylish cafés, boutique coffee shops and inns. Inside one repurposed hanok is Daeo Bookstore, the oldest secondhand bookshop in Seoul, a few minutes away from Gyeongbok Palace subway station. More importantly, both the Seochon and Bukchon areas have an ambience that’s all about art and culture. The narrow alleys of Seochon have the warm-hearted air and ease of Prague’s Golden Lane and the feel of the back alleys of Paris’s Montmartre. Besides the repurposed hanok, there are galleries where scenes from the ink-andwash landscapes of the Joseon era now grace the canvases of 21st century artists. A popular rendezvous site here is Tongin Market, where scores of vendors sell everyday 66

1. Suseong Valley in Ogin-dong, a picturesque haven famous for its shady trees and the sound of cool running water, has been a longtime favorite of artists. 2. The Seoul City Wall was constructed in the 14th century just after the foundation of the Joseon Dynasty. The defensive barrier stands some 5-8 meters high and is about 18.6 kilometers long. The western section lies on Mt. Inwang with Seochon nestled below. 2

wares and eateries beckon with all kinds of delicious food. The market is famous for its lunch-box program; diners exchange a set of coins that are used to buy a wide array of homemade side dishes at little cost.

Celebrated Residents

Seochon is where many princes were born and raised, including Prince Chungnyeong, the third son of King Taejong, who would later become King Sejong (r. 14181450), the most famous Joseon monarch. He instituted the Korean script and a great deal of scientific research. KOREANA SUMMER 2021


King Sejong’s third son, Prince Anpyeong (1418-1453), lived in Suseong Valley in Ogin-dong, the uppermost part of this neighborhood and the setting of “Dream Journey to the Peach Blossom Land,” painted by An Gyeon in 1447. This famous painting depicting the Daoist utopia was inspired by the prince’s dream. Another royal resident of Seochon was King Sejong’s second-oldest brother, Prince Hyoryeong (1396-1486), a man of great learning and virtuous character. He escaped from power politics when his younger brother ascended the throne, and was revered for his efforts to revive Buddhism. KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

In the same neighborhood, Jeong Seon (1676-1759) painted “Clearing after Rain on Mt. Inwang” (1751), a masterpiece from the cultural heyday of Joseon, the age of the so-called “true view” realist landscapes. This celebrated artwork, designated Korea’s National Treasure No. 216, was part of the private collection of Lee Kun-hee, the late chairman of Samsung Group. It was donated to the state after the business leader passed away in 2020. In the mid-Joseon period, Seochon began to be inhabited mostly by jungin, literally the “middle people,” a class of lower officials and technicians who ranked between nobility 67


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1. The eponymous museum of artist Pak No-soo opened in 2013. Pak lived at the house for some 40 years and donated some 1,000 artworks to be preserved and displayed. 2. In 1941, Yun Dong-ju, a student at Yonhee College (forerunner of Yonsei University), lived at the home of novelist Kim Song (1909-1988), where he wrote some of his major poems, including “A Night for Counting the Stars.” A plaque marks where the house was located. 3. Kim Mi-gyeong takes her ink pens to rooftops and other high places to draw street scenes of Seochon. After a 20-year career as a journalist, she went to live in New York in 2005 and returned in 2012 to settle in Seochon, where she is now known as the “rooftop artist.”

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and commoners. Technical workers who ranged from interpreters and doctors to eunuchs who served in the palace made their home in the area, which encompasses today’s Ogin-dong, Hyoja-dong and Sajik-dong. Bukchon was a neighborhood of literati, and the old houses there are relatively large and grand. In contrast, the traditional houses of Seochon are small and modest, which explains the web-like spread of numerous little alleys. With Joseon’s demise in 1910 and the subsequent Japanese occupation, young artists began to move to Seochon. Major figures included the poets Yi Sang (1910-1937), Yun Dong-ju (1917-1945) and Noh Cheon-myeong (19111957), as well as novelist Yeom Sang-seop (1897-1963). Among their neighbors were painters Gu Bon-ung (19061953), Lee Jung-seop (1916-1956) and Chun Kyung-ja (1924-2015). Ironically, Seochon is where the luxurious Western-style estates of infamous pro-Japanese figures Lee Wan-yong (1858-1926) and Yun Deok-yeong (18731940) were also located. The passage of art and culture through time, as it is enjoyed and understood in the present, may be compared to a chick breaking out of the darkness in its shell and being born into the world. Like the baby bird chipping away at the hard shell surrounding it in order to live, the artists of modern Korea plunged themselves into creative activity as an KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

escape from the poverty and despair of the times. I set out to discover their traces in Seochon.

Following the Fragrance

First, I headed to Poet’s Hill in Cheongun-dong to see Cheongun Literature Library and Yun Dong-ju Literature House. From the hill, I could see the old city center of Seoul spread out below, and in the distance, beyond Namsan Tower and the Han River, the 123-story Lotte World Tower came into view. The hillside Cheongun Literature Library consists of several lovingly restored hanok, but Yun Dong-ju Literature House is a concrete structure with an iron door somewhat like a prison. And yet, with its lovely outdoor garden café, it ranked high on the 2013 list of “Korea’s best contemporary architecture,” selected by the Dong-A Ilbo and the architecture magazine, Space. In the video room, the life of Yun Dong-ju unfolds on the concrete wall – the time he spent composing poetry in a boarding house in Seochon; his imprisonment in Fukuoka, Japan for participating in anti-Japanese activities by Korean students; and his eventual death there of mysterious causes in February 1945, months before Korea’s national liberation. A journal entry reads, “I hide away in a dark, small room unable to do anything but write poems, ashamed that I am unable to take up arms and fight. I am all the more 69


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1. The exhibition “Record of the Streets,” organized by the Korean Safety Health Environment Foundation, was held from April 30 to May 16, 2021 at Boan 1942, a multipurpose cultural venue. It featured some 80 photographs showing ways the COVID pandemic has changed society. 2. Boan Inn, built in the 1940s, was a popular residence for many artists and writers. Having operated as an inn until 2004, it was recently turned into Boan 1942, where exhibitions, performances and other events are held.

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ashamed as those poems come to me so easily.” Leaving the maze of alleys behind, I headed for the House of Yi Sang, the genius poet and novelist who died so young. This is a popular starting point for walking tours exploring the art and culture of Seochon. However, the house where Yi lived for 20 some years from when he was adopted at the age of three was rebuilt after his death. On display here are Yi’s original handwritten manuscripts and other literary materials. From there, I walked in the direction of Suseong Valley and soon found Pak No-soo Art Museum, which exhibits the works of the modern artist who painted coolly elegant landscapes. A little further up is the site of the house where poet Yun Dong-ju boarded as a university student. Finally, I reached Suseong Valley, which could be called the end of Seochon. There, I ran into a woman sitting alone, wearing a mask and working on a drawing. It was Kim Mi-gyeong, Seochon’s acclaimed “rooftop artist.” Formerly a newspaper reporter with a 20-year career, she quit her job and in 2013 began drawing scenery around Seochon. From Mt. Inwang and from the rooftops of the hanok, Japanese-style houses from the colonial period and other dwellings around Seochon, Kim captures the urban landscapes of this old neighborhood that she considers to encapsulate an important aspect of the history of Seoul. In the Tongin Market was originally established in 1941 as a public market for Japanese residents in the nearby areas. The market developed into its current form after the Korean War when the population of Seochon expanded rapidly.

Mt. Bugak

Places to Visit in Seochon

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1 Yun Dong-ju Literature House

Cheongun Park

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Mt. Inwang

Suseong Valley Pak No-soo Art Museum

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Site of the house where Yun Dong-ju boarded

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Daeo Bookstore House of Yi Sang 2

Tongin Market

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Boan Inn (Boan 1942) Gwanghwamun

Sajik Park 3 Gyeongbok Palace Station © Gian

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The greatest pleasure of touring the alleys is that your eyes are opened to unfamiliar new paths as you get lost every now and then. early days, the locals would report her as “a spy making maps.” But now, her drawings can be seen on the walls of many stores in the neighborhood.

Rescanning the Maze

Rounding off my trip, I stopped by Boan Inn in Tonguidong, where painter Lee Jung-seop, poet Seo Jeong-ju (1915-2000) and other writers and artists often stayed. The original building has been preserved and transformed into an exhibition and cultural venue named Boan 1942. It was here that Seo and other poets created the coterie magazine, “Poets’ Village” (Siin Burak), in 1936. Traces of the past can be found throughout the building. I welcomed the creaky wooden stairs and was glad that the closely packed, cramped exhibition rooms retained their old charm. KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

Choi Seong-u, who runs Boan 1942, dreamed of being an artist and went to France to study. He ended up studying art administration, and upon his return, turned the old Boan Inn into a multipurpose cultural center. He expanded the space by erecting a building next door, showing not only the works of experimental young Korean artists but also actively pursuing international projects. Residents of Seochon have varied over several centuries. But the thread binding them has always been art and culture, remaining palpable in the meandering alleys today. The greatest pleasure of touring the alleys is that your eyes are opened to unfamiliar new paths as you get lost every now and then. Sometimes, the alleys suddenly stop in dead ends, and as you turn and look back, you begin to think about the traces of your own life. On this outing to Seochon, I frequently looked back again and anew.

1. Kwon Oh-nam has operated Daeo Bookstore since she opened it with her late husband in 1951, when they decided to use part of their traditional-style home as a book shop. It is now the oldest secondhand bookstore in Seoul, and also functions as a book café. 2. Chebu-dong, a famous foodie haunt, attracts people of all ages who search for tasty food day and night. The small eateries are crowded together to form a veritable wall in a maze of alleys.

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AN ORDINARY DAY

Tuned to the Past Anchoring a retro hotspot in the old downtown of Seoul, record shop owner Hwang Seung-soo presents an array of old albums, cassettes and CDs that refresh old memories and spin new ones. Hwang Kyung-shin Writer

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Ha Ji-kwon Photographer

t’s after sunset, time to relax. Hwang Seung-soo shutters his modest record store, cues up his crafted playlist, turns off the lights – and leaves. In the next fourplus hours, songs of the past will serenade a worn but bustling precinct, eliciting knowing smiles and curious glances. Situated in Seoul’s Jongno 3-ga, Hwang’s shop, Seoul Record, feels both familiar and unfamiliar, old and new. Now in its 45th year, the shop welcomes young customers who leaf through faded LP records, cassettes and compact discs, seeking hit music from before they were born. In another corner, older customers reconnect with the soundtracks of their youth. All of them rummage through the shop, some 140 square meters in floor area, with as much intention to collect as to listen. Hwang is the fourth owner, the latest in a succession of former employees turned proprietor. He is slightly bemused

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that Seoul Record still exists. The advent of music streaming turned vinyl records, cassette tapes and compact discs into unnecessary clutter. Nevertheless, the music store keeps its steady beat, boosted these days by a retro trend that has grabbed onto songs from past singers, alongside resurrected bygone clothing styles, cafés with old furniture and other reminders of the past. “Back in my day, finding music we liked and listening to it was really important. Now, though, with smartphones and streaming services, you can easily listen to anything, anywhere,” says Hwang. “So it was looking like the end of the record industry. But now, we have these people who want to collect and own the records themselves, not just listen to what’s on them. “Just the picture of the album cover floating on the screen of their smartphone, that’s not enough for them. KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

1. The moment the needle drops on a vinyl, Seoul Record harkens to a different era. The sound is scratchy rather than clean, yet this scratchiness helps solidify a nostalgic vibe that reverberates every day. 2. Shop owner Hwang Seung-soo keeps his multi-generational customer base supplied with a myriad of genres, including classical, jazz, traditional Korean gugak, rock, movie soundtracks and K-pop.

That’s why they buy the LP, right? It startled me, too, actually, the first time I saw these young people come in and get all excited about the way the needle sounds, skipping and landing on the vinyl.”

Changing Hands

“The shop’s first owner ran the place until 2000, when MP3s came out and it just became impossible to stay in the black. This was still a time when records were for listening to, rath75


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er than collecting, and so people just stopped buying them,” says Hwang. The start of hallyu, the Korean Wave, generated international customers, helping keep the store afloat, but by 2015, the third owner decided he’d had enough, too. Hwang was in his early 40s and had worked at the shop for three years. He had always dreamed of becoming a comic book artist, but now married and starting a family, he had to be practical about time spent and income earned. He decided to put his chips into work that he knew well rather than a job he thought he might like. “My older brother ran a video distribution company. Distribution structures for VHS tapes, CDs and DVDs are all connected to one another. My first real experience with music happened by chance as a kid, when my dad brought home a record player one day. And as a teen, I’d even tagged along with my older brother to a record company. Along the way, I got to know this world pretty well.” When Hwang started working at Seoul Record, the average age of its customers was well past 50. The shop is located in one of Seoul’s oldest neighborhoods, with a sizeable elderly population. Behind Seoul Record is Sewoon Plaza, Korea’s first commercial/residential mixed-use complex, built in 1968; across the street is Jongmyo, the royal ancestral shrine established in 1394 to honor the kings and queens of the Joseon Dynasty; and next door is Tapgol Park, formerly known as Pagoda Park, the country’s first-ever city 76

park, built in 1897. Customers in their 40s and 50s looking for LPs were easily outnumbered by the elderly, who usually searched for cassette tapes. Then, all of a sudden, everything veered. Overnight, the neighborhood became the latest hotspot for trendsetters, nicknamed Hip-jiro. Both Koreans and foreigners descended upon nearby traditional Korean houses, or hanok, turned into stylish coffee shops. Vinyl records, decades removed from the music industry, became objects of value, and the average age of the shop’s customers started to fall.

Sharing Stories

These days, it’s not one specific generation that seeks out the shop, but rather a wide range of all ages. Daughters bring their fathers, sometimes, and parents bring their children, all eager to hear and share the music they love. In a way, one could say that these customers are coming to find memories, not objects. In an unfamiliar world, we search out the familiar; in a familiar world, we look for something new. “Sometimes there are people who need help finding a song – something they loved when they were young, say, and they’ll remember a bit of the lyrics and some of the melody, but not the actual title. Often, they’re a lot older, living alone and not good at using computers. And when we sleuth around a bit and find it for them, they’re just so moved. It’s a KOREANA SUMMER 2021


In an unfamiliar world, we search out the familiar; in a familiar world, we look for something new.

1. Caught up in a retro boom, Seoul Record is constantly packed. Some come to rekindle memories, others to soak in the charms of analog sentiment. 2. Vinyl records are sought as collectibles after being pushed aside for decades by compact discs, then MP3s and digital streaming.

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3. A recent facelift has given the interior of Seoul Record a modern look in the heart of old downtown Seoul. A song request put in the red mailbox will be played at night after the shop closes.

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good feeling.” One customer wanted help finding a song by a band that was big in the 1960s. When Hwang found it and put it on, he was startled to find that the customer’s voice, singing along, was incredibly similar to the voice on the record. When he asked the customer whether he was the singer himself, he admitted that he was. He had been looking for the LP for a while, he explained, because he’d wanted to hear the song again, but hadn’t been able to find it until then. “There’s another customer who’s lived in this neighborhood since he was a child. His family had trouble making ends meet, and so instead of going to school, he worked a job putting up movie posters around town. He loved movies so much, he skipped meals to go see them.” Listening to and sympathizing with the long, complicated personal stories of strangers isn’t always easy. It’s only possible, in fact, if one can call upon a genuine interest, affection and trust for people writ large. Many, having initially arrived as customers, leave as something more, something warmer, after sharing their treasured stories – and come back later with gifts of candy or tangerines, or maybe a soft drink or two. The shutter of Seoul Record goes up between nine and ten in the morning, Monday through Saturday. Hwang’s wife opens the shop, and Hwang himself arrives between noon and 1 p.m. to take over until closing at 7:30, or a bit later if business is slow. When the shutter finally comes down, KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

Hwang commences the last phase of his day: “Tomorrow’s Song Request.” “There’s a red mailbox out in front of the shop. If people write down a song request and put it in, we play the song for them.”

Playing Requests

Throughout each day, Hwang compiles a file of songs that blend well, including the requests that have come in, then leaves it playing after the store closes. Most of the requests are for old lyrical songs or hit pop songs. Hwang’s own picks run the gamut of genres and sometimes mesh with the weather or season. Asked to name his favorites, he says, “I like it if it’s the music you like.” Until midnight, the music floats out onto the sidewalk and eight-lane street before the store. A stream of pedestrians going to and from the nearby Jongno 3-ga subway station and various coffee shops and restaurants create an audience in motion. Sometimes, a passerby will slow down and stop to sing along or even dance a bit. In the dark evening streets, it’s a sight that makes one think that life really does just find its way in the end. “I didn’t get into this line of work to try and make my fortune,” says Hwang. “It’s not so bad, keeping things afloat and listening to the music I love every day. I get to spend my days enjoying this place, and the customers get to come and find the music they’re looking for.” 77


BOOKS & MORE

Charles La Shure Professor, Department of Korean Language and Literature, Seoul National University Ryu Tae-hyung Music Columnist

The Dark Abyss of Human Relationships

Bluebeard’s First Wife By Ha Seong-nan, Translated by Janet Hong, 229 pages, $15.95, New York: Open Letter [2020]

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This short story collection by Ha Seong-nan is a journey into the darkest depths of human relationships. The prose is often dream-like, painting lyrical portraits of loss, isolation and despair, eschewing a rigid narrative structure in favor of a gossamer web of vignettes designed to evoke rather than proclaim. Thus we feel the impact of her tales on a deeply emotional level, sharing in the pain and heartbreak that many of her characters experience. Ha’s characters have complex relationships with the world around them. This world is not simply a cruel, impersonal force that will crush the individual without a second thought; it is very clearly made up of other human beings, wherein lies the great horror of existence. Sometimes these people are distant “others,” such as children running around in the apartment upstairs, city poachers terrorizing a small mountain village, or a fiancé’s mysterious group of friends. At other times, they are those closest to us: husbands, wives, daughters, sons. Whether these “others” are near or far, a major theme running through this collection is our inability to ever truly know anyone else. Even those we think we know the best may be harboring some dark secret − perhaps we would just rather not know and stay safe in our delusions. There is an argument to be made for the latter interpretation, given the actions of the protagonists themselves. A policeman dispatched from Seoul to an isolated mountain village treats the villagers as strange and inscrutable, making no effort to become part of their community. A couple that has moved to the outskirts of Seoul in pursuit of an idyllic lifestyle with a green lawn cares more about their dog, running around on that grass, than their disabled son, who cannot even walk. In these characters, we can see reflected our human tendency to shun that which does not live up to our dreams or expectations. While we would be hard pressed to call these and other protagonists sympathetic, we also cannot fail to recognize that they are, after all, only human. Another thematic thread that runs through the collection is the “outskirts.” Most of the stories are set either on the outskirts of Seoul or farther off in the countryside. Even those tales that start in the city often move beyond the city limits. This migration to the margins may happen for any number of reasons. Whatever the case, once we leave the city, we find ourselves in an uncertain liminal space where the usual rules of society do not apply. Ha’s tales will likely leave you unsettled, but with much to ponder. Because they often refuse to drive straight at the point, or to even claim that there is a single point, they will reward continued exploration and repeated visits. KOREANA SUMMER 2021


A Welcome Study of a Significant Era of Korean Art

Korean Art – From the 19th Century to the Present By Charlotte Horlyck, 264 pages, $60.00, London: Reaktion Books [2017]

This book doesn’t attempt to be, in the author’s words, a “definitive, encyclopaedic reading” of Korean art during the 100-odd years from the end of the 19th century to the beginning of the 21st century. Instead, it focuses on important milestones in this tumultuous time in Korea’s history. Throughout it all, Horlyck delves into how art has related to the search for a Korean identity. The first chapter illuminates the final years of the Joseon Dynasty, when Korea emerged as a modern nation and art became increasingly politicized. The second chapter discusses the colonial period, during which the perception of art shifted from something monopolized by the elite to something that could belong to everyone. The third chapter deals with the development of socialist realist art in North Korea after World War II, driven by the ideology of Kim Il-sung. The fourth chapter parallels the third, covering the same period in the South, where abstract art came to the fore. The fifth chapter introduces minjung art, or the “art of the people,” in the 1970s. The sixth and final chapter sheds light on changes in the way Korean artists have been approaching their task over the past few decades. Taken as a whole, the book is a welcome introduction to a period in Korean art that might not get due attention. It also deserves recognition as a rare endeavor in English.

Soothing Tones of Familiarity and Freshness

2020 JAZZ KOREA FESTIVAL LIVE at Boomiz Song Ha Chul Quartet, CD (27 minutes), Streaming for free on YouTube and iTunes, Seoul: Gatefor Music & Art [2021]

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This EP by the Song Ha Chul Quartet, released in February 2021, is a live recording of a performance at the Jazz Korea Festival, hosted by the Korean Cultural Center in Ankara, Turkey. The festival was held online in November 2020 due to the COVID-19 pandemic. With its clean, pastel tones, the album is not just for fans of “Korean jazz,” but for everyone familiar with jazz, and even newcomers. The first track is “Straight Life,” which is also the title track of the quartet’s 2017 debut album. Following Suh Soo-jin’s funky drum performance, Song Ha-chul’s saxophone announces its presence with a bold, distinct sound reminiscent of Hank Mobley. “Marionette,” featuring the saxophone played over Lim Chae-sun’s dreamy piano, is superbly beautiful, with the atmosphere of Stan Getz’s “Manha De Carnaval.” Like the familiar passage of time, worn down day after day, the piece drifts to a lonely end. In “Going Up,” Lee Dong-min makes a placid opening with his bass, and Song Ha-chul’s saxophone rushes in with a sound as puffed up as cotton candy. The next song is “Somebody’s Gold Fishery,” where the saxophone’s agility and warmth combine assertively to take the mood to its peak. 79


ENTERTAINMENT

Netflix’s groundbreaking investment in Korea has been a win-win for its subscribers and the Korean film industry. This year, the online movie and TV streaming provider is bulking up even more. Kang Young-woon Reporter, Maeil Business Newspaper

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he arrival of Netflix ignited a sea change in Korean entertainment. Now, in its sixth year in Korea, the video streaming behemoth is shifting into an even higher gear. That’s welcome news for local subscribers, and of course, Netflix appreciates Korean viewership. But its presence is about content production, and the ripple effects will further bolster hallyu, the Korean Wave. Currently, Netflix operates regional offices in only four Asian countries: India, Singapore, Japan and Korea. India’s huge population offers long-term revenue growth potential. Singapore gives Netflix a conduit linking East and West. And the Japanese office delivers on animation production. The size of the Korean population was too modest to make it a high-revenue target. Instead, the attraction for Netflix was Korea’s rich talent pool in front of and

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1. In the film “Okja,” the mission of the environmental group ALF (Animal Liberation Front) is to unveil the truth about Mirando Corp., which seeks to make a super pig through genetic modification. 2. The main character Mija (right) goes to the U.S. to rescue her giant animal friend Ojka and encounters Nancy Mirando, CEO of Mirando Corp.

behind the camera; an infrastructure of script writers, production facilities and technical know-how convinced Netflix that Korea could be a viable production outpost. Since 2016, its strategic decision has been repeatedly validated.

Dramatic Entry

Netflix boldly entered Korea by allotting US$50 million to the production of director Bong Joon-ho’s “Okja,” a satirical parable of corporate greed. Korean cinema chains avoided the movie, unwilling to accommodate its simultaneous release on the online streaming platform and in local theaters. But Bong caught Hollywood’s attention

with the movie, which attracted high Netflix viewership. One could even say that the road to “Parasite” winning four Oscars, including Best Picture, in 2020 was paved by this collaboration with Netflix. Since then, original Netflix hits produced in Korea have included “Kingdom” (2019, 2020), “Sweet Home” (2020), “The School Nurse Files” (2020) and “Night in Paradise” (2021). “Sweet Home” and “Kingdom” in particular, both based on webcomics, have been smash hits. The latter, Netflix’s first original Korean series, received a rave response from international audiences. Set in the 18th-century Joseon Dynasty, the zombie apocalypse tale by award-winning screenwriter

K-Content Upstream

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Kim Eun-hee integrated Eastern and Western history and culture. In the United States, some viewers were so infatuated with the series that they purchased gat, the traditional wide-brimmed, cylindrical hats worn by Joseon noblemen. “Sweet Home,” another apocalyptic horror series, premiered in the final weeks of 2020. In just one month, a total of 22 million accounts viewed the series, the highest ranking in Netflix’s entire content portfolio. On the back of the continued success of Korean content, the number of worldwide Netflix subscribers exceeded 200 million last year. Korea’s content producers gain global recognition thanks to the Netflix platform, and Netflix attracts more subscribers. This is a strong “win-win” relationship, playing a bridging role for content exchange. Netflix acts as a window to hallyu. This is true not only in the Asian market, where

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the Korean Wave has already established a strong foothold, but also in Europe and the United States, where few platforms with K-content have been available.

Global Enthusiasm

“The K-content on Netflix provides many more options than TV channels, and for a hallyu fan like me, that’s something to be grateful for,” said Marie Olivia Garcia from the Philippines. Sophie Abdoul, 23, who lives in the UK, has enjoyed K-pop, K-dramas and Korean movies since she was 14. “Thanks to Netflix, I now have better access to K-content,” she said. “When I’m feeling blue, I like to watch Korean dramas because they make me feel better.” Sophie promotes Korea to her friends and family as a self-appointed Korean culture evangelist. American Chelsea Anosik, 18, is an avid fan of all genres of Korean TV dramas. She was among those watching even before Netflix began offering K-content. “It’s encouraging to see how Netflix is urging Korean writers, directors and actors to try out new things that they weren’t able to do on TV,” she said. “Some people mistakenly think that Korea only makes romance dramas, but I want to tell them that K-drama is much richer in content.” A viewer from India, Shravika Wanjari, fell in love with K-content after watching the

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zombie blockbuster movie “Train to Busan” (2016). “I think K-dramas and movies that excel in the zombie horror genre will likely dominate the Netflix platform,” she predicted. Amid the ever-fiercer competition among streaming services since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, Netflix intends to lock in its position by more than doubling its spending on Korean content. It has budgeted US$500 million in 2021, a drastic increase in view of its total investment of US$700 million to date since its entry into Korea.

Boosting Investments

Netflix’s commitment includes contracts with two large studios in Yeoncheon and Paju in Gyeonggi Province to ensure a more stable production environment. YCDSMC Studio 139 has six sound stages and spans 9,000 square meters. Samsung Studio has three sound stages covering 7,000 square meters. Backed by such support, the 2021 Korean original series pipeline looks ever more promising. The prequel to “Kingdom” will have internationally known actress Jun Ji-hyun in the lead role. The special episode, “Kingdom: Ashin of the North,” is slated for July this year. Expectations are also high for “Move to Heaven,” a show about trauma cleaners who uncover the stories and emotions left behind by the deceased. Fans are all the more expectant because the lead star

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1. “The School Nurse Files,” a six-episode fantasy superhero drama, appeared on Netflix in September 2020. It is based on the 2015 award-winning novel, “School Nurse Ahn Eun-young,” by Chung Serang. 2. “Kingdom,” a series that features zombies threatening the Joseon Dynasty, is one of Netflix’s most popular horror shows. The second season drew bigger audiences than the first season. Director Kim Sunghoon regards the upcoming standalone episode “Kingdom: Ashin of the North” as the stepping stone to a third season. 3. In another Netflix venture into K-zombie, “All of Us Are Dead” explores people trapped in a high school and attempts to rescue them. It is an adaptation of Joo Dong-geun’s webtoon by the same title and slated to appear in 2021. 4. “D.P.” is another adaption from a webtoon (“D.P. Dog Days” by Kim Bo-tong). It has an army private assigned to a unit that tracks down deserters, exploring their emotional struggles.

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Amid the ever-fiercer competition among streaming services since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, Netflix intends to lock in its position by more than doubling its spending on Korean content. 5. “Night in Paradise” hit the sweet spots for both storytelling and cinematography by introducing a rare female protagonist in the Korean-style film noir genre. 6. A third season of “Kingdom” is highly anticipated, to be preceded by a special episode, “Kingdom: Ashin of the North.” Jun Ji-hyun will appear as the pirate queen, Ashin, who seems to control zombies.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

is A-lister Lee Je-hoon. Yet another much-awaited program is webtoon-based “D.P.,” which depicts military policemen tracking down deserters. “All of Us Are Dead,” about high-schoolers trying to save their school, will follow up on the Korean movie industry’s success in the zombie horror genre. And “The Silent Sea” will boast an all-star cast, including Gong Yoo, Bae Doo-na and Lee Joon. Set in the future after Earth has become a desert, the stars play scientists in an abandoned research station on the moon. Not to be outdone, Korean media companies aren’t conceding the market to Netflix. CJ ENM’s TVING, KT’s Seezn and

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SK Telecom’s Wavve are all competing for first-mover advantage as a local video streaming provider. KT announced that it will produce 100 original dramas by 2023 with an investment of more than 400 billion won, or approximately US$360 million. Wavve, formed by Korea’s three terrestrial TV stations (KBS, SBS and MBC) and SK Telecom, will invest 300 billion won in content production for the next three years. And TVING, an alliance between CJ and JTBC, has similarly committed 400 billion won of investment over three years. Korean fans and international hallyu fans alike appreciate the war waged by these OTT platform giants.

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ESSENTIAL INGREDIENTS

Fragrant and Crunchy

MINARI

Minari, or water parsley, is a fragrant vegetable with a crunchy texture. With the recent international interest in the film “Minari” by Korean-American director Lee Isaac Chung, the plant has become a symbol of Koreans’ resilience and adaptability. Jeong Jae-hoon Pharmacist and Food Writer Shin Hye-woo Illustrator

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ost grasses in the wild contain toxic substances, so they taste bitter in your mouth. Children’s natural rejection of that bitter taste comes from their instinct to protect themselves from poisonous plants. Human dietary culture has developed based on the knowledge to distinguish between edible and non-edible plants. At first glance, water parsley (minari) and water hemlock (dok-minari, meaning “poisonous minari”) look similar. They both have hollow stems and sharply serrated leaves. However, if you look closely, water parsley leaves have the shape of an egg cut vertically, while water hemlock leaves are long and pointed, like the end of a spear. Though they belong to the same family, one is edible and the other is not. As minari contains no toxic substances, it can be eaten raw or cooked and has been a popular ingredient in Korean cuisine since ancient times. In the 1920s, it was so commonly consumed that its market price was listed in the newspapers. It is loved for its unique fresh taste and relatively richer scent than other herbs, and as a hollow-stemmed vegetable like water spinach (gongsimchae), it remains crisp and refreshing even when slightly blanched.

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1. Minari, a cool and refreshing summer ingredient with a slightly peppery taste, is rich in vitamins, minerals and fiber. According to Dongeui Bogam (Exemplar of Korean Medicine) from the 17th century Joseon Dynasty, it quenches the thirst, clears the head and is effective in treating headaches and vomiting. 2. Minari leaves have sharp sawtooth edges. The shape of the leaf resembles that of an egg cut vertically. 3. Moist and resilient, minari stems have a refreshing, crunchy texture. There are two major types of the green: Rice paddy minari, grown in water, has a hollow stem, while the stems of minari grown in dry fields are relatively solid.

Let’s look at the recipe for minari ganghoe, or minari rolls, introduced in the Joseon Dynasty cookbook Siui Jeonseo (Compendium of Proper Cookery), written in the late 19th century. Remove the roots and leaves, trim the stems and blanch them. Slice pan-fried egg sheets, brisket, rock ear mushrooms (manna lichens) and red chili peppers into thin strips, then tie all the ingredients with a minari stem, placing a pine nut in the middle of the roll. Put them neatly on a plate and eat with red pepper paste mixed with vinegar. The key to this dish is the fragrant, crunchy minari, which binds the other ingredients together.

Special Texture

Why do we love this crispy, crunchy texture? Neuroanthropologist John S. Allen gives three reasons in his book, “The Omnivorous Mind” (2012). First, humans are primates who have insect-eating relatives. Second, the preference for crispy food increased when food began to be cooked with fire, making ingredients crispier than in their raw state. And third, the crispy texture of plants signifies their freshness. Fresh vegetables, whose cell walls are filled with water, burst to produce a crispy sound when chewed. By contrast, vegetables that have been stored for a long time are pulpy and tough, as their moisture has largely dried out. Water-filled minari maintains its crispiness when blanched or stir-fried, and even when pickled or used in kimchi. This is because the sour-tasting organic acids strengthen the cell walls. But by far the best way to enjoy the crispy taste is to go to a farm for raw, freshly harvested minari. 85


penes. Chewing on a mouthful of minari will take you into the midst of a dense forest of pines, firs and cedars as the terpene substances such as pinene and myrcene explode in your mouth. Minari also contains aromatic substances that bring to mind citrus fruits, lime peel, ginger and galangal. Adding minari to fish-based dishes can therefore help reduce any fishy smell. Clearly, there is a scientific reason for using it in dishes such as maeuntang, spicy fish stew.

Pleasant Aroma

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The fragrant scent of minari goes well with the savory flavor of soybean paste. It was already common to add minari to soybean paste stew when, on April 2, 1939, the Chosun Ilbo newspaper introduced a recipe for minari cured in soybean paste: “Wash the minari clean, soak it in hot water for

© Institute of Korean Royal Cuisine

Hanjae minari, grown in Hanjae, Cheongdo County, North Gyeongsang Province, is famous nationwide. Hanjae comprises the villages of Chohyeon-ri, Eumji-ri, Pyeongyang-ri and Sangri, where local volcanic rock soil, with its excellent drainage, is perfect for minari cultivation. Minari is largely divided into varieties grown in rice paddies or in dry fields. Rice paddy minari, which grows in water, has a hollow stem as described above. On the other hand, field minari has a fuller stem. Hanjae minari is cultivated in a way that produces a middle ground between the two types. The stems are mostly full, and the plant is also crispy with a pleasant scent. Minari harvested in spring is often eaten raw with grilled pork belly in place of the usual lettuce, served together with sliced garlic and soybean paste for relish. The refreshing scent of the vegetable covers the greasiness of the meat. It can also be lightly cooked on the grill alongside the meat. The scent of minari comes from a class of volatile substances called ter-

If you like the crispy texture of celery, minari will also grow on you in no time. 2

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about an hour, then spread soybean paste in a bowl and place a thin layer of minari on top. Spread another layer of soybean paste and minari on top and put a lid on the bowl. It tastes wonderful when taken out and eaten two days later. The better the soybean paste, the better the taste.” The fragrant substances in plants are basically weapons to defend against external invaders, such as bacteria and insects. Therefore, minari has a stronger scent when grown in fields than in water. Minari that grows in the mountains or in the wild is called dolminari, the prefix dol meaning “wild.” It has an even stronger scent than minari grown in fields because it produces a lot of resistant, fragrant substances to survive in a barren environment. Minari also contains various antioxidants and studies are underway to explain its antioxidant, anti-inflammatory and liver protective effects. It is commonly believed that adding minari to blowfish dishes helps to detoxify any blowfish poison that might remain. But as this has not been proven, it should rather be understood that minari is KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

1. Minari ganghoe, or minari rolls, made with assorted ingredients such as fried egg strips, stir-fried beef and mushrooms, all tied with blanched minari stems, are eaten dipped in red pepper paste with vinegar. They were served on the king’s table or at court banquets during the Joseon Dynasty. 2. Minari goes very well with juicy pork belly, either fresh or grilled with the meat. 3. Minari has a strong fragrance and is known in English as water parsley, water dropwort, or Asian parsley. These days, it is a popular ingredient for pasta. 4. Pesto made with chopped minari is not only used with pasta but is delicious when spread on bread, just like basil pesto or spinach pesto.

Dakyun g Lee

added to enhance the flavor. To someone who has never tasted it, minari – and its consumers – may seem strange. However, it isn’t particularly hard to get used to. The carrots and celery used in European flavor bases such as mirepoix and sofrito are all relatives of minari. If you like the crispy texture of celery, minari will also grow on you in no time. It can be used instead of basil to make pesto, and also works well stir-fried and added to oil pasta.

Resilient Vitality

“Minari grows well anywhere.” So says the grandmother to her little grandson in the film “Minari,” directed by Lee Isaac Chung. It isn’t easy for a Korean family to settle down in an unfamiliar place like Arkansas. The life of an immigrant, where anxiety and hope intersect, can leave one wondering whether or not it is possible to take root in a new place, as minari can. At first, minari seems to simply be a resilient plant that grows well anywhere, but in fact, it has to struggle with many surrounding threats. 87


LIFESTYLE

Chasing Fast Money The COVID-19 pandemic triggered a violent sell-off of stocks. But a robust rebound followed, creating a new generation of investors seeking a solution to their precarious income and savings situations. Ra Ye-jin Reporter, Economist, JoongAng Ilbo S

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m Su-bin, a 29-year-old college senior, recently started investing in stocks with 300,000 won (approximately US$260) that she had earned by working part-time. Although finding internships is not particularly difficult in Korea, it can seem impossible to land a decent full-time job because companies are hesitant about adding permanent employees. Out of desperation, Im moved toward stock trading to help cover expenses. Kim A-ram, a 33-year-old freelance translator, planned to spend some of her savings on her honeymoon last December. But regulations to stem COVID infections meant that many relatives and friends wouldn’t be able to attend her wedding. And so she postponed it and put her honeymoon stash in the stock market. She is pinning her hopes on a bullish market that will yield whatever money possible to help start off her married life. These two novice investors aren’t rarities in their age group. In 2020, there were 9.14 million individual investors in the Korean stock market, and about

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one-third of them were newcomers, according to the Korea Securities Depository.

Novice Investors

The total amount of stocks owned by individual investors was valued at 662 trillion won as of late 2020, up 243 trillion won from 419 trillion won in late 2019. Individual investors accounted for 28 percent of the total market value, up 3.6 percentage points on-year. Men owned 489 trillion won worth of stocks, more than double the amount owned by women, but women evidently excelled in picking stocks; the value of stocks owned by female investors increased a whopping 77 percent, from 97 trillion won in 2019 to 173 trillion won in 2020. Meanwhile, stocks belonging to male investors rose 52 percent, from 321 trillion won to 489 trillion won, during the same period. Young adults in Korea have been struggling to secure stable, regular jobs for decades. Ever since KOREANA SUMMER 2021


© freepik

A slew of online apps facilitates stock transactions. Brokerages offer incentives to capture a rapid increase in new investors in their 20s and 30s, many of them so-called “ants” who hope to turn modest salaries into fat gains.

the 1997 Asian financial crisis and the 2008 global financial meltdown, companies have reined in fulltime positions, relying instead on a parade of shortterm hires. Simultaneously, prolonged low interest rates have made savings accounts nonviable. This has left many young adults struggling financially, to say nothing of saving for marriage or purchasing a home. Then COVID-19 opened up a window of opportunity. On January 5, 2020, the benchmark Korea Composite Stock Price Index (KOSPI) closed at 2206. But as the pandemic’s existential threat to the economy became more alarming, the KOSPI swooned until finally bottoming out at 1566, a 29 percent loss, on March 20. From there, it rebounded as Korea harnessed its COVID caseload, and optimism over vaccine development, government stimulus and economic recovery fueled a sharp rally. Stock prices had been at bargain levels and it was clear that their steady rise back to normal meant fast profits were attainable. Waves of young people KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

opened accounts to “row their own boats when the water comes,” as the Korean saying goes. Then, as the year unfolded, the labor market gave them even more reason to seek fast cash. According to Statistics Korea, 3.51 million people in their 20s had jobs as of December 2020, down 3.9 percentage points from a year earlier, and falling more drastically than in other age groups. Proportionately, the unemployment rate rose, with the rate among 20-somethings increasing by 0.9 percentage points on-year in December 2020.

Buying Frenzy

Individuals, especially fledgling investors in their 20s and 30s, reportedly accounted for most of the increase in stock trading during 2020 – and their opportunistic frenzy paid off handsomely. The KOSPI closed out 2020 at 2873.47, more than 80 percent above the year’s low in March. New buzzwords and phrases have accompanied the groundswell. One of these is “Donghak Ant 89


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1. Sales volume and revenue from books on stocks, investing and mutual funds were five times higher in the first quarter of 2021 compared to the same period in 2020, according to Interpark, an online book platform. 2, 3. “March of the Ants,” a KakaoTV variety show that gives stock investment tips to beginner investors, has been renewed for a fourth season.

© Gian

Movement,” derived from the peasant followers of Donghak, or “Eastern Learning,” who rebelled against foreign intrusion toward the end of the 19th century during the Joseon era. The term implies that young, small-scale investors are buying stocks to protect the domestic stock market from foreign institutional investors. “Ants” refer to young, salaried workers. Another buzzword is jurini, coined from jusik (stock) and eorini (child), meaning “beginner stock investors.” Media coverage has also expanded. In the past, only TV channels dedicated to business dealt with stocks and investing. But today, even entertainment shows cover these topics. A typical example is “March of the Ants,” a KakaoTV variety show hosted by celebrities. Launched last September, the program showcases how the celebrities invest in stocks using accounts opened in their names. It received favorable audience responses and has been available on Netflix. Each episode averages two million views. Meanwhile, MBC TV introduced a talk show 90

focused on stock trading, “Ant’s Dream,” as a twopart pilot. Economic experts gave celebrities detailed explanations on the basics of stock trading. And on SBS TV, a special episode of its long-running variety show “Running Man” presented a mock stock market scenario. Popular TV host Yoo Jae-suk also spoke with three young stock investors as part of the show “Hangout with Yoo” on SBS in March.

Lasting Trend

Experts believe that young adults’ enthusiasm for stock trading has long-term sustainability. For decades, there has been no meaningful relief from fragile employment and soaring home prices. Despite a series of government countermeasures, apartment prices in Seoul, where nearly half the population of Korea resides, have doubled over the past few years. With their dreams of owning a house evaporated, young people naturally delay marriage. In 2020, the number of marriages plunged to an all-time low since records began in 1970. Some 214,000 couples KOREANA SUMMER 2021


Individuals, especially fledgling investors in their 20s and 30s, reportedly accounted for most of the increase in stock trading during 2020 – and their opportunistic frenzy paid off handsomely.

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3 © Kakao Entertainment

tied the knot last year, down 10.7 percent on-year, according to Statistics Korea. “The current 20- and 30-somethings are completely different from previous generations, who bought cars and dreamed of buying homes by saving their monthly salary,” said Park Sung-hee, a senior fellow at the Korea Trend Research Institute. “These days, young people rent cars, and buying homes is a remote possibility for them.” “Rather than saving for the distant future, they are looking for a chance to gain profits from shortterm investments made with small amounts of money,” she said. “Jobs are hard to find and none guarantee life-long employment. This trend has become even more conspicuous since the outbreak of the coronavirus pandemic.” “Young people seek investment targets that don’t require in-person contact. In a situation where it’s almost impossible to travel abroad freely, they naturally turned their eyes to stock trading, which they can easily do using a smartphone,” Park added. KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

gju © The Dongguk Post Gyeon

A survey by online job portal service JobKorea found three out of every 10 university students in the country are investing in stocks. About a half of them jumped into the stock market less than a year ago as the COVID pandemic worsened their already weak employment prospects.

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JOURNEYS IN KOREAN LITERATURE

CRITIQUE

Animal Nature

vs

Human Nature

Kim Soom began her career in 1997, when she won a provincial daily newspaper’s Spring Literary Award. In the beginning, she focused on exploring the helpless existence and social relationships of human beings through everyday stories. Recently, this prolific writer has used historical events as her subjects to examine how ordinary people respond to the shackles of life. Choi Jae-bong Reporter, The Hankyoreh

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s a writer, Kim Soom is a model of sincerity. Since her debut, she has published more than 10 full-length novels and seven collections of short stories. Compared with other writers who work relatively steadily, that’s almost double the average pace. Her novels have been well received by critics for their diverse subjects and themes as well as their solid literary perfection. She has won major Korean literary awards and readers consider her a “trustworthy” writer. After her first full-length novel “Idiots” (2006), about a girl growing up in the 1980s, Kim published “Iron” (2008), shedding light on the lives of steel mill workers in Ulsan, followed by “Women and Their Evolving Enemies” (2013) and “Sewing Women” (2015), which delve into the lives and struggles of women. More recently, she has actively embraced historical and social subjects. Particularly notable is her inquiry into the so-called “comfort women” issue, concerning the ordeals of women mobilized by the Japanese military as sex slaves during World War II. Her ninth novel, “One Left” (2016), tells the story of an otherwise unknown elderly woman who considers revealing her identity upon 92

hearing that the last officially confirmed comfort woman is nearing death. In 2018, Kim published three more novels realistically probing the topic: “Flowing Letter,” “Sublime is Looking Inward” and “Has Any Soldier Ever Wanted to Be an Angel?” The latter two books are based respectively on the testimonies of the late Kim Bok-dong and Gil Wonok. These works clearly show the author’s commitment to this subject. In April 2020, Kim published “The Wandering Land,” which brings to light another painful episode in Korean history: the forced transfer of Koryo-saram, ethnic Koreans living in the post-Soviet states. This deportation, carried out in 1937 by the former Soviet Union under Stalin, saw Koryo-saram moved under duress from the Russian Far East to Central Asia. Once again, while writing this book, Kim is known to have undertaken extensive research, this time the testimonies and historical records of the displaced ethnic Koreans. Although fiction is distinct from history textbooks, Kim’s recent novels certainly help open the eyes of younger generations of readers to historical truths they have not KOREANA SUMMER 2021


Kim Soom: “I just want to show things properly. I want to take on the role of showing and telling stories about things that people look at but can’t see.”

© Kim Hung-ku

experienced directly, allowing them to develop more complete perspectives of reality. This is also true of Kim’s novel “L’s Sneakers” (2016), which depicts the democratization movement of June 1987 in a unique way. It looks back on the context and meaning of the uprising by citizens and students through the process of restoring the tattered sneakers of university student Lee Han-yeol. Lee was killed by a tear gas grenade shot by riot police and became a symbol of the pro-democracy struggle. When asked about her aspirations as a writer during an interview with the online magazine Channel Yes in 2014, Kim said, “I don’t think I have the ability to define and diagnose life. I neither want to nor can play such a role. I just want to show things properly. I want to take on the role of showing and telling stories about things that people look at but can’t see.” Unlike full-length novels that dig into a single subject and theme, it can be tricky for a collection of short stories to maintain consistency in subject matter because the stories are originally published over a wider period of time. Recently, however, Kim seems to have taken an interest in “planning” collections of stories around a single subject or theme. In 2017, she put out two short story collections simultaneously through the publishing company Munhakdongne (Literary Community). “Your God” contains three stories about women suffering from the institutional framework and procedures of marriage and divorce. “I Am the First Goat” has six stories about animals such as rats, goats, turtles, bees, roe deer and butterflies. The trend continues in her later collections. The animals in “I Am the First Goat” tell us not about KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

themselves but about their relationships with human beings and the hidden nature of human beings that is revealed through such relationships. In the stories contained in the collection, the paradoxical fact that this hidden nature proves to be extremely animalistic – more animalistic than the animals themselves, in a certain sense – emerges in a very amusing way. Can dissecting a live goat to “understand the dignity of life” be considered truly “human”? What about a mother’s attitude in hunting roe deer to feed their blood to her beloved son? Or crushing a living swallowtail butterfly between one’s fingers for “observation and learning”? It isn’t difficult to recognize that the underlying subject of this book is the irony that “animalistic” propensities are more often discovered in human beings, while “human” virtues can often be found in animals. “Birth of a Rat,” the first story in the book, is typical in that respect. A husband, who claims to have seen a rat in the kitchen one night, calls in four rat-catching experts. While he is at work, his wife, who stays at home with their baby, welcomes these men. However, as the rat catchers, each wielding his own tool, prod at the house, knock over objects, destroy equipment and so on, they fail to see so much as the shadow of a rat, let alone catch one. The wife, suffering from their rude, careless and noisy behavior, begins to think, “A rat would be better than them.” Asking for 100,000 won for each rat caught, they even seem prepared to manufacture a non-existent rat. As they turn the entire house upside down, the wife starts to wonder whether there ever was a rat in the first place. The story ends abruptly at the peak of fear and anxiety, leaving a lingering impression that is comical yet ominous. 93


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t was around eleven o’clock on a Thursday morning that they arrived at her home. They were all wearing identical blue uniforms. Thanks to these uniforms, they looked like experts. At least when it came to catching rats. About thirty minutes before they rang the doorbell, she had gotten a call from her husband. He said people would soon be arriving at their home to get rid of the rat. He hung up after repeating three times that they were experts at rat catching. She knew that there were all kinds of experts in the world, but she hadn’t known that there were people who were experts at catching rats. Anyway, since they were experts, she hoped they would catch the rat quickly.

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lashlight, hammer, iron rod, iron skewer. Such were the tools they had brought with them to catch the rat. They looked complacent and relaxed, as if those tools alone would be sufficient. As she looked on, they doled out their tools amicably. Paik, whose head was so large it looked deformed, was the first to choose a tool, and without hesitation he picked up the hammer. Ku, who had a habit of constantly sniffing, chose the iron skewer. Stocky Kim, with protruding eyes, glanced at her before slyly picking up the iron rod. Park, rail thin and completely bald at the front of his head, grumbled. “I always end up with the flashlight.” “You know that you have to pay a hundred thousand won per rat, right?”

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“A hundred thousand…won?” she asked, looking confused. Ku snorted. “Everyone takes it that way.” “What’s the problem? Some charge more.” She wondered if a hundred thousand won per rat wasn’t a bit expensive, but she nodded. She had no choice but to believe what they said, that everyone charged that much and that some demanded even more. There might have been one rat, two or three rats, maybe even more than that. Still, as the rat had been glimpsed only once, there was a high possibility that there was just one. She informed them there was a baby in the house. She reckoned that they should know about the existence of the baby. “A baby?” asked Kim, rolling his eyes. “But the baby…is asleep…” she muttered, unable to tear her eyes away from the hammer in Paik’s hand. The head at the end of the handle was round, iron-colored, moderately worn and polished. Just imagining the scene if a rat was struck by it was horrible enough. The mere thought of a rat gave her goosebumps. In the whole world, rats were the most disgusting creatures she could think of.

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hey divided into teams of two and looked around the house. Paik and Park, Kim and Ku each became a pair. Paik and Park explored the veranda. There were clothes on the drying rack that had still not been brought in after KOREANA SUMMER 2021


Kim Soom Translated by Brother Anthony of Taizé Illustrated by Kim Si-hoon

three days out there, her underwear among them. It was embarrassing that her black bra was hanging from the rack like a bat, but she just had to let it be. She went to the sofa, sat down and stared at the TV that had been on when they arrived. When they pressed the doorbell, she had been watching TV and, with purple thread, cross-stitching one of the grapes hanging abundantly from a grapevine. Filling in empty grapes was extremely boring, but it served to pass the time. When she sat alone on the sofa in broad daylight and filled in grapes, she felt as if there were so many empty grapes hanging in rows that she would grow old and die before she finished filling them all in. It didn’t take them long to look around. Her house was an apartment of 66 square meters, its layout fairly typical. Two rooms, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom and a veranda. The living room and kitchen were separated by sliding doors fitted with opaque glass, put in by the people who had lived there before during remodeling. They didn’t look into the bedroom where the baby was. The door to the bedroom was closed tight. The baby, only nine months old, was asleep in its cradle. She didn’t want it to wake up. Once it woke up, it was hard to get it back to sleep, and if the baby woke up it would interfere with catching the rat. Ku and Kim emerged from the bathroom and stood in front of her. Park and Paik also came and stood in front of her. Ku asked her, still snuffling, “Okay, when was the first time you saw the rat?” KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

She felt awkward because it was not she, but her husband, who had seen it. “Well, you see…” It was three days before that her husband had first seen the rat. Late in the evening, after midnight, her husband had gone to the kitchen to drink some water and had seen it. According to her husband, when he entered the kitchen, the rat was sneaking over the gas range, its long, pink tail hanging down. The rat stared at him, then quickly disappeared behind the range. He was so surprised that he forgot that he had gone to the kitchen for a drink of water. After closing the sliding door of the kitchen tightly to keep the rat from coming out into the living room, he came back to the bedroom. Then, as she wearily tried to calm the fretting baby, he told her, “There’s a rat in the kitchen…!” Then he lay down and fell asleep after muttering, “There’s a rat in the kitchen…How can there be a rat…” That was it. She changed the story so that it seemed as if the person who had seen the rat was herself, not her husband. When they had heard the whole story, they looked rather disappointed. Kim frowned and said, “Only one!” “You’re right.” Park chimed in. “We’ll only know how many there are after we catch them.” Ku sniffed to clear his runny nose. 95


Birth of a Rat

She hoped that there would be only one rat, but at the same time she worried that if there was only one, they would be disappointed. They said it was a hundred thousand won per rat, so the more they caught, the better. But she tried to reassure herself by reflecting that even if there was only one rat, it wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t something she had to feel sorry about. Until yesterday, she had been expecting her husband to get the rat, thinking that as soon as he left work he would come home and proudly catch it. But he had worked overtime for the last four days, and after that he and his staff went drinking until late before returning home. She didn’t want to blame her husband. She reflected that perhaps he found rats as disgusting as she did. After her husband saw the rat in the kitchen, she only entered it when she needed to prepare formula to feed the baby. As she boiled the water and mixed the formula, a chill ran down her spine at the thought that the rat might be hiding somewhere in the kitchen, watching her.

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efore they set about catching the rat, they held a kind of council of war. Ku spoke first. Kim rolled his eyeballs and kept nodding, while Paik grasped the hammer tightly and listened silently so that the veins on the back of his hand swelled. Park pouted and glanced at the TV. On the screen was a rerun of a popular drama from three or four years back.

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“I wish we could catch a hundred rats.” At Park’s words, she imagined a hundred rats swarming about the house, the sofa, the dining table, the bed and the cradle where the baby was asleep, teeming with rats. She didn’t like Park from the beginning. In fact, she didn’t like any of them very much from the start. “How many is the most we’ve caught so far?” “Five, surely?” “What, that’s all?” “Three out of five were babies with no fur.” “Let’s get them in one go!” Paik raised the hammer into the air. They rushed into the kitchen, talking loudly among themselves. They didn’t seem to be using poison or mousetraps. Clearly, they got rid of rats using nothing but the hammer, iron skewer and iron rod. As soon as they rushed into the kitchen, she closed the sliding door, expecting them to catch the rat very soon. She had just managed to regain her composure and pick up the embroidery when she put it down again, thinking that they might catch the rat at any moment and emerge from the kitchen. With the sliding door closed, she had no idea what they were doing in the kitchen, but clearly they were frantically trying to find the rat. She tried not to forget for a single moment that they were rat-catching experts sent by her husband. Chaotic cries of “Huh,” “Hold it!” “There, there!” KOREANA SUMMER 2021


Birth of a Rat

“Hey,” and “Aigo” could be heard from behind the sliding door. She slowly turned her head toward the kitchen and looked at their forms as they loomed through the opaque glass of the door. The shapes glimpsed through the opaque glass were distorted and weird. Their movements, tangled together as if they were a troupe of performing artists on stage, were so extreme that they seemed to be hitting each other with the hammer, stabbing one another with the iron skewer and striking back and forth with the iron rod. In addition, the flashlight swirled like stage lighting, adding a dramatic effect. It was about twenty minutes after they’d rushed into the kitchen that she heard a crash. It was the sound of the stainless steel pots that had been piled up one on top of another, collapsing and clashing. She recalled the set of German stainless steel pots in the sink cabinet, a set she had ordered without her husband’s knowledge from a home shopping site some time before. After the crashing sound had subsided, she heard them babbling with excitement. Had they finally caught the rat? Hit it with the hammer? Stabbed it with the iron skewer? Or struck it with the iron rod? The sliding door opened and Park walked out hesitantly, pointing the flashlight at her. Taken aback, she jumped up from the sofa and the beam from the flashlight struck her left eye. As she raised a hand, Park turned it off. “It’s urgent. I can’t control…” Park slurred the ends of his words as he went trotting towards the door of the main bedroom. “The bathroom is this way, not that way.” She pointed at the bathroom door. “Not that way, this way!” She screamed just as Park grabbed the handle of the bedroom door. “That way?” As soon as Park entered the bathroom, she was embarrassed to hear the stream of urine striking the water in the toilet bowl. As she gazed disapprovingly toward the bathroom, she was shocked to find that the door wasn’t fully closed. The bathroom door opened almost at the same time as she heard the toilet being flushed. Park came out and went to stand in front of the TV. He gazed at the screen and his lips curled. “Isn’t that the drama my wife’s crazy about?” She was lost for words. “She’s a pathetic woman who lounges around all day watching dramas on TV.” Park spoke as if spitting out the words, then went KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

striding toward the kitchen. She felt annoyed. While the baby was asleep, she had little to do other than watch drama reruns on TV, do cross-stitching, and fiddle with her smartphone. They seemed not to have caught the rat yet. She heard them opening and closing the doors under the sink. She was worried that they were going to break the doors off. She felt inclined to go rushing into the kitchen to check if there were any broken doors, but had to be content with looking at the opaque glass. Their image reflected in the glass of the sliding door was still tangled. The tangled shapes came together to form a single flailing shape.

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question suddenly struck her. How had the rat got in? Spiders, ants and cockroaches often appeared, but this was the first time a rat had shown up. She had never dreamed that there would be a rat in her house until one appeared and her husband saw it. It must have been the same for her husband. Moreover, her home was on the nineteenth floor of an apartment block that had only been built five years ago. Like most apartments, her home was as safe as an airtight container. She wondered if the rat might have entered through the front door, but it was tightly shut except when someone came in and out. The front door, with its automatic key, closed by itself, and once it was shut, locked itself. She wondered about the drains on the veranda and in the bathroom, but they were covered with stainless steel mesh. As she racked her brains to figure out the path the rat might have taken in order to enter, she heard the sound of glass breaking. She couldn’t stand it any longer and got up from the sofa. After hesitating for a moment, she approached the sliding door to the kitchen. She wanted to open it right away but held back. It wouldn’t do for her to open the door and set free the rat they had almost caught. As she hesitated, the figure in the glass tore and split into several pieces. The door slid open and the men emerged, waving the tools they were holding. She expected one of them to have a rat in his hand, but all they had were the flashlight, hammer, iron rod and skewer. Their eyes were roving wildly after making such a commotion. Ku was sniffing and Park’s lips were curled. The kitchen was a mess. The sink cabinet doors were wide open, pots and pans lay thrown about, potatoes and 97


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onions were rolling across the kitchen floor. They chatted among themselves, ignoring her agitation. “It’s not in the kitchen.” “There seem to be three rats.” She couldn’t figure out how on earth they could be so convinced, but as they were rat-catching experts, they must have had a reason. “Did it hide in the bathroom?” “Could have. We caught our first one in the bathroom, didn’t we?” “I got it with the hammer while it was gnawing the soap.” They rushed towards the bathroom door with enough momentum to catch not a mere rat, but a bison or even a wild boar. She peeked into the bathroom and saw them forming a circle around the toilet, as if there really were a rat hiding somewhere inside. The flashlight in Park’s hand was shining on the water in the toilet bowl, and the water was blue as if bruised. Ku stabbed at the back of the toilet with the iron skewer while Kim stirred the water in the tank with the iron rod. Paik was holding the hammer high in the air. She hadn’t been able to clean the toilet that morning. Every morning, she sprinkled in some chlorine bleach and scrubbed it thoroughly, but today she had been preoccupied with the baby and had forgotten. She felt very worried in case there might be some kind of dirt on the toilet. “How on earth can the rat be hiding in the toilet…?” Her careful mutter earned her a rebuke from Park. “You have no idea. We’ve caught two rats in a toilet.” “That black rat was swimming about.” Kim stirred the water in the toilet with the iron rod. After ten minutes spent checking the toilet, what they found was unfortunately not a rat, but a crack. “Is it cracked?” Park fussed as excitedly as if they had found a rat. “Where?” They bent over with their rear ends sticking out awkwardly while they examined the crack as if they had come to replace the toilet, not to catch rats. They came out of the bathroom after examining the sink, bathtub, chest of drawers and baskets holding bath supplies. She glanced at them, then went into the bathroom, closed the door and checked the toilet. It was only after she had screwed up both eyes that she was able to find the crack on the side of the water tank. Actually, it was more of a scratch than a crack. 98

She felt so intensely resentful of her husband, who had sent them without consulting her in the least, that she even began to reckon that she’d rather have rats in the house than them. The rats hid in secret, but these people moved around the house as a group. “I’d rather have rats! Rats!” She grumbled, then realized that they were men, and quickly shut up. They were men with tools in their hands that could in an instant turn into terrifying, lethal weapons.

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lready it was one in the afternoon. It had been around eleven in the morning when they reached her home. Contrary to her expectations, far from catching any rats, they had messed up the house. “I’m starving!” Paik struck the living room wall with the hammer. As a result of the shock, the frame hanging on the wall tilted by fifteen degrees. In the frame was their first family photo, taken on the hundredth day after the baby was born. Her baby was wearing a bear-face hat and sitting on her husband’s lap, smiling. Her husband was also smiling with his mouth wide open. She was looking at her husband and baby with great satisfaction. “I’m starving!” Paik again struck the living room wall with the hammer, and the frame tilted another fifteen degrees. In the photo, which was now tilted at about thirty degrees, her husband had a startled look. Her baby was frowning as if about to burst into tears at any moment. And she was glancing at her husband and baby as if she were very annoyed. “If that guy’s hungry, he can’t work,” Ku explained, so she felt obliged to order jajangmyeon, jjamppong and fried dumplings. Paik finished off a bowl of jajangmyeon in three or four mouthfuls. Kim picked up the greasy fried dumplings with his hand and shoved them into his mouth. Instead of eating his jjamppong, Park picked up the remote control and flipped through the TV channels. Then they went out together onto the veranda, carrying the paper cups of instant coffee she had prepared. They giggled as they looked down from the nineteenth floor. She watched Ku throw a still-burning cigarette butt into the air, and reflected that she might do better to send them away immediately, seeing as how they had not caught any rats. There must be a lot of other expert rat catchers. When they returned to the living room, they wandered around, yawning and stretching as if they were drowsy. She too was feeling sleepy. KOREANA SUMMER 2021


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he dozed off without realizing it, then woke, startled. She looked at them with terrified eyes, as they stood surrounding her. They were pointing the hammer, the iron rod and the iron skewer at her, as if she were the rat they were looking for. “Did you really see a rat?” Ku asked her. “A rat, a rat!” Kim pressed her. “I…saw…” Even she could hear that her voice was trembling. “Did you really see it?” Kim pushed the iron rod under her chin. “I did… I saw it.” They drew closer, step by step, and surrounded her. “I, really…saw…” By the time she finally managed to spit out the words, they had her completely surrounded. As she listened to the sound of Paik grinding his molars, she had the impression that she had become a rat – the rat her husband had seen in the kitchen three days before. KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

Another moment and she clapped a hand over her mouth, which was about to let loose a scream. Thinking that she had to get away from them somehow, she jumped up onto the sofa. The hammer was glistening just above her forehead. She wrapped her hands around her head and yelled, forgetting that her baby was sleeping peacefully in the bedroom.

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hen she took her arms away from her head and quietly looked up, they were talking among themselves. “She said she really saw a rat.” “If she said that, she must have seen it, right?” “Yeah.” “I guess it’s hiding behind the sofa.” The instant Kim spoke, they rushed to the sofa and pushed it away from the wall. Immediately, the disposable diapers piled up on the back of the sofa fell to the floor. They trampled roughly on the diapers, searching behind the 99


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Birth of a Rat

sofa, but there was no rat. “Listen!” Everyone stopped moving at Ku’s word. “What’s that noise?” She listened with them to the sound coming from somewhere in the house. She longed for it to be the sound of a rat, but it wasn’t. It was a sound made by her baby. “The baby…must have woken up…” she muttered, glancing at them. She hoped the baby might fall asleep again, but instead it cried even louder, at the top of its voice. “It’s really loud!” Paik complained. She quickly got off the sofa and ran into the bedroom. The baby was waving its arms and legs in the cradle, its face turned blue. She held out her arms and picked up the baby. Holding the baby, she went back into the living room, where they surrounded her as if they had been waiting. They stared at the baby pressing its face against her breast. With a confused expression, the baby stared at them in amazement, one by one. Park spoke to Paik. “It looks just like you! Look at its thick lips.” “What?” said Kim. “It looks just like you!” Ku sniffed in Kim’s face. “In my opinion, it looks like you. That nose the size of a fist.” Even though she didn’t think it looked like any of them, they kept insisting that the baby looked like them. She was reflecting that the baby couldn’t look like them, any of them. It really was impossible. “Who among the four of us do you think it resembles most?” She opened her eyes wide and looked at Ku. “Who…?” “Who among the four of us do you think the baby looks most like?” She stared seriously with fresh eyes at the baby’s face, which she normally considered to be the spitting image of her husband’s. After carefully studying the baby’s eyes, nose and mouth, she raised her head to examine their faces, one after another. It turned out that the baby looked like Paik, Ku, Kim and even Park. It resembled all of them so equally that she couldn’t really say it resembled any one of them. “Well…” “I hate babies,” Paik complained. “It’s pretty chubby,” Park said scornfully. The baby was certainly plump. Its bulging thighs were thicker than her forearms. “It’s as fat as a piglet.” KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

Kim suddenly took the baby from her. He put the baby, who was only nine months old, on his shoulder, and spun around on the spot. Amazed, the baby laughed with eyes open wide. He made as if to throw the baby up into the air, and each time she couldn’t help screaming inside. Next, the baby was handed from Kim to Ku to Park. As Park tried to hand him the baby, Paik complained with his arms folded. “I hate babies. I hate any baby!”

J

ust then, the phone rang. She picked up the handset as if it were her savior’s hand. She hoped it was her husband, but it was the water purifier service man. The service man informed her that he would visit to check the water purifier at eleven on Saturday morning, then hung up. He visited once a month to change the filter in the water purifier, and went away after promoting products such as bidets and water softeners. As soon as she finished talking to the service man, she called her husband’s cell phone. The baby was still nestling in Park’s arms. He was kneading the baby’s limbs as if it were a rubber doll. The baby had adopted a strange expression that she had never seen since it was born, and perhaps because of that expression, it looked like each of them. Yet there was no reason why the baby should resemble any of them. They were simply people her husband had sent to get rid of the rat. Her husband didn’t answer the phone, probably busy with some kind of important conference or meeting. “Perhaps it’s hiding in there?” As soon as Ku spoke, they dumped the baby on the sofa and rushed towards the small room. She ran to the sofa and quickly picked up the baby. They opened the door of the small room and went running in. The small room was full of junk. “A rat!” One of them shouted and Paik struck the floor with the hammer. The hammering was so intense that she was worried about them cracking the floor. As she hugged the baby tightly and looked on desperately at Paik’s insane hammering, she shook her head, the image of a tattered, bloody rat’s body spontaneously arising in her mind. However, it wasn’t a bloody rat that lay trembling on the tattered, torn floor-covering. It was a plastic mechanical duck. The duck had lost its head and one leg, making it an ugly sight. Fragments from the duck’s body lay scattered about. “But it looked just like a rat…” 101


Birth of a Rat

Paik’s disheartened voice came from behind her. At first glance, the duck really did look like a rat. She picked up the duck and started to wind up the spring. She wound it fully and when she let go, the clockwork turned and the duck kicked with one crushed leg. The baby waved its arms, enjoying the sight, then shook one leg as if imitating the duck. Knowing that the duck was broken was going to make her husband very sad. She recalled how happy her husband looked as he wound up the duck then placed it on the baby’s chubby thigh. As the duck took a few tottering steps before falling over, the baby would get excited and shake its butt. But she was soon obliged to realize that the duck wasn’t the problem.

L

ooking at the air purifier they had wrecked in the blink of an eye, she suspected that they might not be real rat catchers. The tools in their hands were so absurd and rudimentary. It seemed like buying some sticky boards and putting them here and there would rather be an easier way to catch a rat. She had bought the air purifier a month before through TV home shopping, on a ten-month interest-free installment plan. She was furious at the thought that she would have to pay installments for the broken air purifier for the next nine months. She felt desperately inclined to call the police and have them kicked out of the house. As she picked up the phone to do so, the flashlight shone on her. “It seems you have to phone someone urgently?” “If she wants to call someone in a hurry, she should do it!” She dialed her husband’s cell phone number with trembling fingers. She got the number wrong and had to dial again. The call went through, but her husband still didn’t answer the phone. “My husband isn’t answering the phone… Catching the rat is proving difficult… I wanted to tell him…” “We’ll catch it soon, so hold back on the worrying!” Park giggled. “Where the hell can the rat be hiding?” Desperately eager to catch the rat, they removed all the shoes from the shoe closet. As she looked around the messed up house, she recalled the not insignificant loan she had taken out from the bank in order to set up the home. A not insignificant monthly interest payment was being automatically deducted from her account. 102

S

uddenly, the thought that there might not be any rats flashed through her mind like lightning – a foreboding that there might not be a single rat in the house. The night he saw the rat, her husband had been very drunk. Since no droppings had been discovered anywhere in the house, she wondered if her husband had been so drunk that he had imagined the rat. It was three days before that her husband had seen it, so it was also possible that the rat had gone on to another house in the meantime. She put the baby down on the living room floor, wound up the duck as far as she could and placed it within reach of the baby. Then she quietly went into the kitchen, closed the sliding door and looked behind the stove. She could see ramyeon crumbs and dried kimchi slices, but no droppings. A blackish, pellet-like thing struck her gaze as she looked at the floor under the stove. She desperately hoped it would be droppings, but unfortunately not. It was just a grain of rice that had rotted and dried out. When she came out of the kitchen with shoulders drooping, they were scouring her bedroom cabinets. Already, clothes and blankets had been pulled out and spread across the floor. She wanted to get them out of the house, even if it meant pressing a hundred-thousand won check into each of their hands, as if they had each caught a rat. After they had ransacked the bedroom without finding the rat, they rushed back into the living room. “The rat…” Her voice trembled violently and she swallowed once. She didn’t have the courage to tell them that there might not be a rat anywhere in the house. “Will it be caught soon…?” The baby, who had been happily playing with the wrecked duck, began to fret. She picked up the baby and went into the bedroom. The cradle, the one thing they had not touched, looked more cozy and serene than ever. If only she could, she longed to lie down in the cradle together with the baby and fall asleep without a care in the world. “It’s all because of the rat your dad said he saw. That rat!” she said after lying the baby down in the cradle. The baby’s mouth was hanging wide open, a drop of saliva the size of an acorn dribbling from it. Just as the saliva bubble burst, the baby spat out a single word. To her ears, it definitely sounded like “rat.” “Rat?” KOREANA SUMMER 2021


The baby’s mouth gaped again, and an even larger drop of saliva than before formed. The swelling saliva bubble burst, and again the baby spat out a single word. “Rat!” “Rat? Did you say rat?” “Rat rat rat…” Now that the baby had opened its mouth, it didn’t seem to stop. She had never imagined that the first word her baby would say would be “rat,” and not “mom” or “dad.” She should have been sad, but she couldn’t afford the feeling. She put the broken duck on the baby’s stomach. One leg of the duck, which she had wound up tightly, trembled wildly. She waited for the baby to fall asleep, then moved away from the cradle. As she left the bedroom, she shut the door tightly. She went to the sofa, picked up the embroidery which had been thrown onto the floor, and began filling in the grapes. One grape, another grape, another grape… KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

“S

hh!” “I think I just heard a rat…” “Me too!” “I think it came from that room?” Ku picked up the iron skewer and pointed at the bedroom door. Ku nodded towards Kim, Paik and Park. They crept, with Ku in the lead, towards the door of the bedroom, which she had closed tightly. They quickly surrounded the cradle where the baby was asleep, before she had time to stop them. Only then did she reflect that the sound of a rat they thought they had heard might be the sound of the baby in the cradle. At that moment, the silver cross-stitch needle in her hand trembled like a fisherman’s float. She was uncertain whether to go on filling in the almostfinished grape or whether she should go running into the bedroom and stop them. To the point that she forgot they were expert rat catchers her husband had sent. 103


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