Koreana Winter 2018 (English) by The Korea Foundation

WINTER 2018

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS

SPECIAL FEATURE

K-BEAUTY

-Beauty

The Blooming Industry and Korean Aesthetics

Beyond the Typical: Free Heart and Sense of Beauty; Aesthetic Awareness of Women in Old Paintings; Korea Seduces the Global Beauty World; K-Beauty Experience: In Depth and Personal

ISSN 1016-0744

VOL. 32 NO. 4

IMAGE OF KOREA

Sweet Memories from Cold Days Kim Hwa-young

Literary Critic; Member of the National Academy of Arts

T © NewsBank

he roasted sweet potato sellers should be at subway station entrances by now. The wind is beginning to numb faces and creep under collars, sure signs of winter’s arrival. But they are nowhere in sight. One vendor in particular, a nice man in his 40s, constantly flashes before my eyes, like the image of a goose against the cold, glittering sky. Did he quit his seasonal job, unable to recoup even his small investment? Or did he save enough money to own a proper store? The sight of roasted sweet potato vendors has long been a harbinger of winter in Korea. They have appeared when autumn receded. For many people, the fond memory of roasted sweet potatoes, or gun goguma, as a night time snack, is indelibly mixed with memories of the lean years after the Korean War. They recall stifling yawns as they waited for their father to return home late from work with a bag of the roasted spuds tucked inside his coat lest they become cold. In the postwar years, when the national food supply was limited, the government promoted cultivation of sweet potatoes as a hardy crop and an ingredient for alcoholic drinks. The street vendors began to appear as a way to deal with surplus production. Actually, they first appeared in 1954, the year after the war ended, wearing discarded army fur caps to shield their heads from the biting winter cold and roasting sweet potatoes in metal drums normally used for shipping oil. The image hardly changed thereafter. Originating in Central and South America, sweet potatoes were introduced to Europe, Africa and Asia by the Spanish and Portuguese after their conquests in the 16th century. They first reached Korea in 1764 during the reign of King Yeongjo in the Joseon Dynasty when civil minister Jo Eom, a member of a diplomatic mission to Japan, brought seeds back from Tsushima Island. Since then, sweet potatoes have been grown hroughout Korea. Today, sweet potatoes are considered a health food and are part of popular diet plans. The area devoted to growing the tubers has not declined, but supply has been shrinking. There are fewer and fewer growers near cities and imports are banned. Moreover, the appearance of “direct-fire” pots for roasting sweet potatoes at home, as well as the sale of roasted sweet potatoes at some convenience stores, has inflated the price of the root vegetable. This combined with the diversification of street food offerings, including tteokbokki (spicy stir-fried rice cakes) and waffles, to erode sweet potato vendors’ sales below their toleration point. In truth, ten thousand won for a bag of six means that roasted sweet potatoes are no longer a cheap snack. I only hope that the sweet potato seller of the past, once such a familiar sight, has now become the owner of a store somewhere, a place that is brightly lit and warm.

Editor’s Letter

PUBLISHER

Lee Sihyung

Culture for Viral Happiness

EDITORIAL DIRECTOR

Kim Seong-in

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Lee Kyong-hee

Many decades before global opinion leaders began advocating soft power in international relations, a Korean independence activist told his compatriots how he wished his country would acquire “the power of a noble culture.” Kim Koo elaborated, “This is because the power of culture makes ourselves happy and gives happiness to others, too.” It is hard to tell whether he believed his wish would become a reality. Back then, in the late 1940s, the country was experiencing extreme confusion amid ideological conflicts in the wake of liberation from colonial rule. Not many of his compatriots could afford to take the famous remark for more than the grand vision, or desperate appeal, of a patriotic leader. No more. Today, the majority of Koreans, especially those of older generations, are amazed that the world is looking to their country as a cultural epicenter. The Korean Wave began with K-drama, then expanded to K-pop, and now to K-beauty. The present issue looks into this latest phenomenon under the heading of “K-Beauty: The Blooming Industry and Korean Aesthetics.” The special feature also offers a glimpse of Korean aesthetic sensibility and traditions as the roots of the K-style beauty care. On another note, I would like to acknowledge the challenges faced by the National Museum of Korea in organizing its grand-scale exhibition marking the 1,100th anniversary of the founding of the Goryeo Dynasty. The exhibition comprises valuable artifacts representing the history and arts and crafts of the medieval Buddhist kingdom from the collections of scores of institutions at home and abroad. (pp. 34–39) As Goryeo ruled the entire Korean peninsula, the museum planned to exhibit a selection of art objects from North Korea as well. However, negotiations have apparently not proceeded as desired. As of this writing, the North Korean objects have not arrived but the museum says it will keep its doors open.

EDITORIAL BOARD

Han Kyung-koo

Benjamin Joinau

Jung Duk-hyun

Kim Hwa-young

Kim Young-na

Koh Mi-seok

Charles La Shure

Song Hye-jin

Song Young-man

Lee Kyong-hee Editor-in-Chief

Yoon Se-young

COPY EDITOR

Matthias Lehmann

ASSOCIATE EDITOR

Ji Geun-hwa

ASSISTANT EDITORS

Cho Yoon-jung

Ted Chan

CREATIVE DIRECTOR

Kim Sam

EDITORS

Park Do-geun, Noh Yoon-young

ART DIRECTOR

Kim Do-yoon

DESIGNERS

Kim Eun-hye, Kim Nam-hyung,

Yeob Lan-kyeong

LAYOUT & DESIGN

Kim’s Communication Associates

44 Yanghwa-ro 7-gil, Mapo-gu

Seoul 04035, Korea

www.gegd.co.kr

Tel: 82-2-335-4741

Fax: 82-2-335-4743

TRANSLATORS

Chung Myung-je

Hwang Sun-ae

Min Eun-young

Park Hyun-ah

Suh Jung-ah

SUBSCRIPTION/CIRCULATION Price per issue in Korea 6,000 won Elsewhere US$9 Please refer to page 104 of Koreana for specific subscription rates.

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KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS Winter 2018

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Published quarterly by THE KOREA FOUNDATION 55 Sinjung-ro, Seogwipo-si, Jeju-do 63565, Korea http://www.koreana.or.kr

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

Koreana , registered as a quarterly magazine with the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism (Registration No. Ba-1033,

“Portrait of a Beauty” (detail) Shin Yun-bok Late Joseon Dynasty Ink and color on silk, 114 × 45.5 cm.

August 8, 1987), is also published in Arabic, Chinese, French, German, Indonesian, Japanese, Russian, and Spanish.

SPECIAL FEATURE

K-Beauty: The Blooming Industry and Korean Aesthetics

FOCUS

Revisiting a Forgotten Kingdom Jeong Myoung-hee

SPECIAL FEATURE 1

SPECIAL FEATURE 3

Beyond the Typical: Free Heart and Sense of Beauty

Korea Seduces the Global Beauty World

Kim Seon-woo

Lim Seung-hyuk

SPECIAL FEATURE 2

SPECIAL FEATURE 4

Aesthetic Awareness of Women in Old Paintings

K-Beauty Experience: In Depth and Personal

Lee Tae-ho

Lee Hyo-won

80 ENTERTAINMENT

ON THE ROAD

Jindo: Crucible of Riches, Bravery and Despair

Symbolism beyond Stunning Spectacles Jung Duk-hyun

Lee Chang-guy

INTERVIEW

Costume Designer Brings Cast to Life Kang Yun-ju

TALES OF TWO KOREAS

Alternate Perspective

ESSENTIAL INGREDIENTS

Ginger as Both Spice and Medicine Jeong Jae-hoon

Kim Hak-soon

GUARDIAN OF HERITAGE

Forty Years Walking the Tightrope Kang Shin-jae

74 BOOKS & MORE ‘Dust and Other Stories’

86 LIFESTYLE Board Games Come Back Choi Byung-il

A Writer’s Struggle in Critical Times Brought to Light

ART REVIEW

Yun Hyong-keun Retrospective: Abstract Landscape of Silence and the Sublime Moon So-young

‘Korean Gardens: Tradition, Symbolism and Resilience’ Australian Garden Designer’s In-depth Guide

‘Differance’

A Major Evolution by Mavericks of Traditional Korean Music Charles La Shure, Ryu Tae-hyung

IN LOVE WITH KOREA

Balancing and Sharing Threefold Success Choi Sung-jin

76 AN ORDINARY DAY Teaching the True Joy of Taekwondo Kim Heung-sook

JOURNEYS IN KOREAN LITERATURE

Adieu to Darkness, Lonely yet Warm Choi Jae-bong

Gate 4 Ki Jun-young

SPECIAL FEATURE

-Beauty The Blooming Industry and Korean Aesthetics Special Feature 1

Beyond the Typical: Free Heart and Sense of Beauty Special Feature 2

Aesthetic Awareness of Women in Old Paintings Special Feature 3

Korea Seduces the Global Beauty World Special Feature 4

K-Beauty Experience: In Depth and Personal

SPECIAL FEATURE 1

K-Beauty: The Blooming Industry and Korean Aesthetics

Beyond the Typical

Free Heart and Sense of Beauty 6 KOREANA Winter 2018

A scene from the music video for â&#x20AC;&#x153;IDOLâ&#x20AC;? by BTS. The video jubilantly mixes traditional Korean motifs such as the jade rabbit, pine tree, tiger and mask dance with cultural elements from around the world.

The people who have lived on this land over the ages used song and dance and humor to ward off danger, seeking to form bonds with all beings in existence. They dreamed of a world where all things live in peaceful coexistence; such a dream formed the basic notion underlying their aesthetic sense. Kim Seon-woo Poet and Novelist

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 7

once wrote that “I believe that poetry is the will to record beauty.” The perception of beauty is highly subjective, so there is no right answer when it comes to its creation and acceptance. For a hundred different people there are one hundred different ways of achieving beauty. So it’s impossible for me to define the “Korean people’s sense of beauty.” As a poet who is always on the lookout for beauty, however, I can talk about the Korean things that I am particularly fond of. When I think of a particular group of seven young men, for instance, I exclaim “Beautiful!” They are none other than the Bangtan Boys, better known as BTS, the most famous male K-pop group. Since their debut in 2013, they have evoked a very special image for me: that of the Siberian tiger, also known as the Korean tiger or the Mt. Paektu tiger. At the outset of the group’s career, they reminded me of juvenile tigers, still retaining childhood habits, playing and gamboling around with each other. Today, they are fine young adult tigers, able to console the pains of their contemporaries around the world. Like one great tiger composed of individual tigers with highly original talents and distinctive looks, their performances are like a rhythmical challenge to the world that is thrilling to watch. I like to describe their performances as the “beauty of the wild.” It makes me think that the talents of our ancestors have continued to flow through our genes to flower in this way.

The Beauty of the Wild

1 © Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art

8 KOREANA Winter 2018

The wildness of Korea originates in reality. By this I mean beauty in which life and art are linked, as exhibited in Koreans’ affinity to being playful whenever an opportunity arises and singing and dancing virtually anywhere. Note the ubiquitous places called noraebang. These singing rooms, conveniently located near subway stations, for instance, give anyone a chance to spontaneously slide into an enclosed cubicle and belt out a song. Written records suggest that Koreans’ overflowing flair for song and dance began over 3,000 years ago. The Bangudae rock carvings in Ulju, created by people who lived in the area during the Neolithic and Bronze Age, feature dancing figures, as do the tomb murals of the Goguryeo Kingdom (37 B.C.– A.D. 668). The communal rites to heaven, held even before that time, were festive occasions. An ancient record describes them: “Big crowds gathered every day to eat and drink, sing and dance. As all wayfarers liked to sing as well, the sound of singing never ceased.” When Koreans lived as an agrarian nation, singing and dancing to the sound of musical instruments was one of the beautiful customs of everyday life. Our ancestors did not need

a stage per se; they would transform any and every place, from the front yards of homes to marketplaces and farming fields, into a performance area. This resulted in the emergence of numerous variations of folk songs throughout the land. Essentially work songs, they evaded standardization of lyrics and melody. Every region developed their own interpretations and handed them down to the next generation. That is why there are hundreds of variations of the folk song “Arirang,” Korea’s unofficial national anthem. Optimistic by nature, our ancestors were grateful to heaven and complied with the laws of nature. As such, they were not the melancholic type who brooded over the imperfections and tragedies of life. They lived to enjoy the moment, instinctively fond of playing freely, unbound by any rules or norms. Humor, satire and laughter were their ways to quash pent-up emotions. Even on occasions of pain, song and dance supplied the format. In our modern era, this uninhibitedness continues. Through their playfulness, Koreans free themselves and join hands to form bonds that, at times, exert powerful effects. The ability to turn even a battle against the authorities and their unjust wielding of power into a kind of festival is their strength. It is not a handful of heroes who have shaped the country’s history but the many ordinary people. At every critical juncture, when politics and the ruling class betrayed society, undistinguished people have risen and written history anew. A glance at our 20th century history confirms this dynamic. The nameless soldiers of the “righteous armies” were the ones who stood up against the Japanese during the colonial occupation from 1910 to 1945, students led the April 19 uprising against the dictatorship in 1960, and citizens took to the streets in 1987 shouting for democracy. Again in 2016 to 2017, candlelight demonstrations against a discredited president displayed the glorious manifestation of the Korean people’s spirited nature. As the whole world watched in awe, hundreds of thousands of ordinary people packed streets and public plazas for months. The so-called “Candlelight Struggle” was no

aberration. The protestors were the latest bearers of an historic mantle, passed down through the ages. And the sobering objective did not stop them from being playful. Singing and dancing accompanied condemnations of alleged corruption and malfeasance.

Genuine Vitality

Having fallen in love with the image of the strong, agile Korean tiger, I once collected tiger pictures. The Korean tiger is bigger than the Bengal tiger of the Indian subcontinent and its fur is thick and luxuriant with beautiful stripes. Strong and powerful yet elegant and dignified, full of tension and at the same time bearing a sense of ease, it has been depicted in countless works of art. The tigers in Korean folk paintings are free and easy creatures with a sense of humor. In them we can detect the optimistic nature of our ancestors. They have a real sense of vitality. The finest tiger painting in Korea is undoubtedly “Tiger under a Pine Tree” by Kim Hong-do (1745–c. 1806), a court painter of the Joseon Dynasty. The painting is perfect in every way, from the harmony between the tiger and the pine tree to the arrangement of empty space. Empty space, or yeobaek (“the void”), reveals much about the Korean outlook on nature and the world. The void belongs to nobody. It is the “horizon of the sensibilities,” renewed by every beholder. When my mood sags, I like to look at Kim’s

1. “Tiger under a Pine Tree” by Kim Hong-do (1745–c. 1806) and Kang Se-hwang (1713–1791). Latter half of Joseon. Ink and light color on paper. 90.4 x 43.8 cm. The Korean tiger with its massive body and beautiful striped fur was depicted in hyper-realist fashion by Kim Hong-do, an artist belonging to the Royal Bureau of Art. His teacher, Kang Se-hwang, painted the pine tree. 2. “White Porcelain Jar.” Joseon period. Height: 43.8 cm, Body diameter: 44 cm. “Moon jars” are large white porcelain jars of the Joseon Dynasty, which are over 40 cm in height with a full round body. The top and bottom halves were made separately and joined together. National Treasure No. 310.

2 © National Palace Museum of Korea

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 9

ÂŠ Ha Ji-kwon

It is wondrous that a cold metal object can convey the warmth of the earth and the wind. Flowers, clouds, the wind and flames ride on the sound waves emanating from the bell and open up my whole being to the most delicate senses. 10 KOREANA Winter 2018

tiger painting. As I examine the tiger striding forward, its massive front paw outstretched, and the upright tail filled with lively energy, the blues fade away before I realize it. No old Korean paintings show the tiger baring its teeth to instill fright. The paintings are reflections of the tigers of this land, a curious blend of strength without savagery, living in peaceful coexistence with humans. I look into the tiger’s glittering eyes and, in my mind, stroke its huge paws. It appears that even Kim Hong-do, an artistic genius who could capture any subject in a few strokes, was especially meticulous about his tiger, applying thousands and thousands of strokes of paint as if it were a form of spiritual practice. My eyes scan every fine strand of hair and soon energy returns to my body and mind.

A Radical Aesthetic

If there’s anything I love as much as the Korean tiger, it is the Buddhist temples in our country. At the most scenic spot in any part of the peninsula you will find an important temple. Whenever I visit a temple, I make sure to attend the dawn service. To hear the temple bell resound through the mountains in the first light of day is to encounter the original sacred sound. The classical Korean temple bell is the Divine Bell of King Seongdeok, commissioned in the 8th century during the Unified Silla period by the late king’s son, King Gyeongdeok, to honor his father. It is a legendary bell, commonly known as the Emille Bell. Said to have taken 34 years to make, the bell has a deep and mysterious resonance that even today cannot be explained by science and technology. When the temple bell is struck for dawn and dusk services, the sound becomes a prayer to save all sentient beings from suffering so that they may live in peace. Matching the massive size of the bell, its resonance is deep and far-reaching. If you close your eyes and lose yourself in the sound, you will realize with your whole body that everything in the universe is connected to form one entity. Then, upon opening your eyes, you will see the Korean ideal of beauty. An outstanding structural feature unique to the Korean temple bell is the hook at the top. Carved in the form of a dragon, the yongnyu, or “dragon handle,” was used to hang bells. Chinese temple bells, which preceded Korean ones, usually have twin dragons in symmetrical alignment. Korean bells usually have one dragon with an asymmetrical appearance. The Chinese version enhanced the safety of the hook, while the Korean version offered beauty as well as functionality. Koreans did “Divine Bell of King Seongdeok” (detail). 771. Height: 366 cm, Mouth diameter: 227 cm. This famous temple bell has a relief design of apsaras, celestial beings kneeling on lotus blossoms and making an offering of incense.

not enjoy the stillness of symmetry. Deep down, their sense of beauty required a touch of the radical. The dragon hook, teeming with a sense of life, seems to give shape to the undulating reverberation of the bell. Another prime example of an extant Silla temple bell is the Sangwon Temple Bell, also dated to the 8th century. Like its more celebrated cousin, the body of this bell also features an exquisite design of apsaras, or celestial beings in flight. These designs are rhythmical and radical, and once again not symmetrical. It is wondrous that a cold metal object can convey the warmth of the earth and the wind. Flowers, clouds, the wind and flames ride on the sound waves emanating from the bell and open up my whole being to the most delicate senses. When speaking of Korean beauty, many people also cite the white porcelain “moon jar” of the Joseon Dynasty (1392– 1910). Though I am also fond of the moon jar, there are times when I crave more obvious beauty, which cannot be found in the simple grace of the plain porcelain jar. The extreme beauty of the Baekje Gilt-bronze Incense Burner is my answer.

Peaceful Coexistence

A fan of incense, I have seen all kinds of incense burners from all over the world. But I have never seen one that excites me the same way as this Baekje masterpiece. It is a perfect dance as well as a piece of music. A phoenix with a magic bead under its chin and tail flying in the wind sits atop a mountain. The overall shape of the lid, a gorgeous feast of curved lines, represents the mountain where immortals reside. The mountain and the phoenix are supported by a lotus, which in turn is supported by a dragon. The dragon appears to be flying with a lotus in its mouth. Look carefully at the details of the mountain decorated with symbols of the ideal world. Below the phoenix are five musicians playing instruments. Waterfalls and streams meander between the folds of the overlapping mountain peaks, which are carved in relief. Among them are the figures of 38 animals and 11 immortals. On the petals of the lotus-shaped body are the carvings of 24 animals as well as two immortals. Imagine the incense rising up through the small holes bored between the mountain peaks and in the chest of the phoenix. Then smell the incense enveloping the mountain of the idyllic setting and ascending as an offering to heaven. The people of Baekje (18 B.C.–A.D. 660) aspired to reside where humans and animals lived together and humans and nature were one. Each and every part comprising the incense burner is unspeakably beautiful: even the support was given a rhythmic form like a song. I call this incense burner support the “singing dragon of the wind.” It is both a piece of music and a dragon, a dance and the wind.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 11

SPECIAL FEATURE 2

K-Beauty: The Blooming Industry and Korean Aesthetics

12 KOREANA Winter 2018

Aesthetic Awareness of Women in Old Paintings At first glance, “K-beauty” seems to depart from Korean values and aesthetic norms. But younger Koreans who enjoy roaming around royal palaces dressed in colorful hanbok look anything but removed from tradition. In this context, tomb murals from the ancient kingdom of Goguryeo (37 B.C.–A.D. 668) and genre paintings from the late Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910) may offer precious clues to the time-honored aesthetic ideals held by Korean women. Lee Tae-ho Visiting Professor of Art History, Myongji University; Director, Seoul Institute of Landscape Painting

Courtesy of Lee Tae-ho

Part of the murals in Muyongchong (Tomb of Dancers), a 5th-century Goguryeo tomb located in the Tonggou Plains, Jilin Province, China. Small in physique and round-chinned, the two women serving food and tea are attractive in an unaffected way.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 13

oguryeo tomb murals dating back to the 4th to 6th century feature a great number of women from all walks of life, including queens and aristocrats, dancers, musicians and maids. Few of them are corpulent, except for the queen and the court ladies depicted in Anak Tomb No. 3, located in South Hwanghae Province, North Korea. In general, the women in the murals are small in physique and round-chinned. Interestingly, the aristocratic women are not particularly attractive in spite of their imposing postures and luxurious dresses. The painters obviously lavished more attention on their depiction of women and young girls of lower classes. They also used these figures as motifs for the mystic creatures representing the ideal feminine beauty of Goguryeo, such as celestial beings in flight and the sun and moon deities.

Miss Goguryeo

Among these female figures, the quintessential “Miss Goguryeo” must be represented by the women painted inside the

5th-century Muyongchong (Tomb of Dancers), located in the Tonggou Plains, Jilin Province, in the northeastern part of China. The two women are leaving the kitchen to serve food and tea, the one in front holding a small dining table and the other behind her holding a tray. Their robes are white and red, respectively, with black polka dots on them. Below the robes, each wears a white pleated skirt, baggy red pants and shoes with upturned toes. The women are short with sturdy lower bodies and their flat round faces are homely. The hairstyles, one with her hair tied at the nape and the other a topknot, suggest that the women glowing with healthy beauty must be in their teens or twenties. Overall, they look stylish. In May 2006, when I visited the Susan-ri Tomb in Pyongyang during a joint North-South academic investigation of Goguryeo tomb murals, I came across a fresh-faced Goguryeo girl in one of the murals. The maid of the tomb owners, who are watching acrobatic stunts with their family, she is depicted holding an umbrella for the lady at the center. The mural was severely damaged so the image was not clear, but the girl’s © Kansong Art and Culture Foundation

14 KOREANA Winter 2018

oval face was not so different from women considered beautiful today. She was as beautiful as a white gourd flower blooming under the moonlight. Looking at her, I assumed that the image of a young and gentle girl was the epitome of feminine beauty for the Goguryeo people. In fact, behind each of the intrepid men who established the great warrior kingdom there was always a woman. Among the many Goguryeo women well-known for their strong characters are Yuhwa, mother of Jumong, the founder of Goguryeo, and his wife Soseono; Princess Pyeonggang, who took the commoner Ondal as her husband; and Yeon Gaesoyeong and Yeon Gaesojin, the two younger sisters of General Yeon Gaesomun, who successfully repelled the invading forces of Tang China. Hence, we tend to think of Goguryeo women as being strong and tough, but the murals depict them gracefully with exquisite lines and colors.

Two-Piece Suits

1. “Dano Day” by Shin Yun-bok (1758–c.1814). Late 18th century. Ink and color on paper, 28.2 × 35.6 cm. This genre painting by Shin Yun-bok, a court artist of the late Joseon Dynasty, depicts women enjoying themselves on Dano Day (fifth day of the fifth lunar month) in swift, fluent brush strokes. National Treasure No. 135. 2. Part of the murals in the Susan-ri Tomb, presumably built in the late 5th century and located in today’s Pyongyang. Depicted holding an umbrella for her mistress, the maid has a delicate, innocent-looking face.

Courtesy of Lee Tae-ho

In the murals of Ssangyeongchong (Twin Column Tomb) in Nampo City and the Susan-ri Tomb in Gangseo County, both built in the late 5th to early 6th century and located in what is now South Pyongan Province, the women are depicted with finer, softer lines compared to the previous era. They are more refined and conspicuously adorned than the women in the preceding murals of the Tonggou region and their clothes reflect this change. The coat and pleated skirt growing wider toward the bottom, the straight lines of women’s silhouettes create the pleasingly simple A-line shape. The clothing of this era is characterized by comfortable simplicity. The attire of commoner women is plain but has the casual grace of everyday wear. The collar, cuffs and hems of the jackets and coats are trimmed in black or other distinct colors, and a sash is tied around the waist. Apart from the skirts worn by noble ladies, which are decorated with broad colored stripes, the women’s skirts are mostly full white skirts with fine pleats, some trimmed with colorful bands along the hem. For both men and women, the basic outfit consists of pants and a jacket. Most women wear pleated skirts over the pants, and the jacket is long enough to cover their behinds. The jack-

et and pants combo — a two-piece suit — is arguably the best solution for everyday wear in costume history and the most widespread fashion style of the modern day. In Korea, a twopiece suit is called yangbok (“Western clothes”) since the style came from the West, but among the extant paintings around the world, the earliest depiction of this style is found in the Goguryeo tomb murals. In all probability, the horse-riding Goguryeo people were the inventors of the two-piece. The suits are a combination of upper and lower garments of different colors. The color scheme is bold and stylish, a white skirt generally matched with a jacket in burgundy, pink or dark purple. These outfits would have called for advanced dyeing and weaving techniques. In the murals of Ohoebun (Five Helmet Tombs) No. 4 in the Tonggou Plains, featuring the sun and moon deities dressed in jackets with flowing sleeves and skirts, the red-green outfit of the sun deity is flashier than the muted brown-yellow outfit of the moon deity. The complementary contrast of red and green, which is often found in murals of the

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 15

The women in Shin Yun-bok’s paintings would have been trendsetters, members of the new generation. The navy skirt and white jacket combination that they brought into fashion in the early 19th century is similar in line and color to the sophisticated fashion of Parisian women of the day. four guardian deities from the late Goguryeo period, is a color scheme that has long been favored by Koreans. The clothing featured in Goguryeo tomb murals is the prototype of hanbok, which has been handed down in the form perfected in the late Joseon Dynasty. It is difficult to trace the whole transformation process from Goguryeo to Joseon since there are few relics or paintings left to show how it evolved in the intervening periods of Unified Silla (676–935) and Goryeo (918–1392). But the basic two-piece combination of jacket and skirt in different colors was preserved until the Joseon era, when the jacket became noticeably shorter. The bold color combination of red and green was mostly used for ceremonial dresses, and indigo blue for everyday garments.

An Instinct for Beauty

Genre paintings of the late Joseon period can be divided into two types. The major theme in the 18th century was farming work in agricultural communities, but this changed in the early 19th century when the portrayal of city people at leisure became popularized. While the former focused on women carrying out economic activities or domestic chores, the latter shows them enjoying games or outings. The best examples of the two styles are “Album of Genre Paintings” by Kim Hongdo (1745–c. 1806) and “Portrait of a Beauty” and “Album of Genre Paintings” by Shin Yun-bok (1758–c. 1814), respectively. They realistically depict women’s clothing, providing visual information on trends and styles as well as the class distinction reflected in them. Specifically, genre paintings from the eras of King Sukjong (r. 1674–1720) and King Sunjo (r. 1800–1834) depict the women of Joseon who tried to express their own ideas of beauty, belying the stereotypical image of demure women oppressed by patriarchy. The paintings indicate that the aesthetic awareness of women in the late Joseon period was inconsistent with the rules and manners of Confucian society at the time. Some of the women went around with their skirts raised and tied around the waist, exposing their drawers, which was far removed from the womanly virtues they were supposed to

16 KOREANA Winter 2018

observe. Some defied the clothing codes based on social ranks and even violated the royal order prohibiting the use of fake hairpieces. Furthermore, some women went so far as to reveal the curves of the upper body by wearing tight jackets while covering their lower bodies with ample layered skirts. They liked the style that made them look slender above the waist and plump below, a shape evoking the lovely roundness of the white porcelain “moon jar.” It is also interesting to note the similarity to the dress with tight bodice and voluminous skirt that was popular among their European contemporaries. In this period, blue was the prevalent color for women’s everyday wear. Blue was used in all shades from light aquamarine to navy blue, with design details varying according to class. This can be confirmed in Shin Yun-bok’s “Album of Genre Paintings.” An analysis of the women’s costumes in the 30 paintings shows that 52 of the 70 women (74 percent) are dressed in varying shades of indigo blue. The beloved outfit of a white jacket and an indigo blue skirt is reminiscent of cheonghwa baekja, white porcelain with cobalt blue designs, which was popular at the time. Perhaps, the women’s fondness for these particular colors was rooted in their love of the clear blue autumn sky scattered with white clouds. Other color combinations found in the paintings, albeit rare, are a red skirt with a yellow jacket, a navy skirt with a pink or yellowish-green jacket, and a purple jacket with a skirt of some other color.

Originality in Simplicity

The upper-class women of Joseon adorned their white jackets with colored trims along the collar, underarm seams and side seams. This type of jacket was called samhoejang jeogori (“triple-trimmed jacket”). Jackets where only the collar and the underarm seams were trimmed were called banhoejang jeogori (“semi-trimmed jacket”), and another kind with no trims minjeogori (“plain jacket”). A neat white jacket decorated with cool blue shows how these women tried to express originality in keeping with their aesthetics of simplicity. To add elegance

to their attire, they used trinkets like norigae (tasseled ornaments hung on the jacket front), duikkoji (hairpins worn at the back of the head), binyeo (hairpins for chignons), and decorative shoes. As the jacket with three-part trims was worn by upper-class women, it seldom appears in genre paintings. In Shin Yun-bok’s album, only three women, presumably from noble families, are pictured wearing jackets in this style. The others wearing jackets with two-part trims or plain jackets were most likely gisaeng (female entertainers) or commoners. The subject in Shin Yun-bok’s “Portrait of a Beauty” is an elegant lady apparently from the upper class of the late Joseon Dynasty, an embodiment of the pre-modern ideal. Though she is often presumed to be a gisaeng, her jacket is a sign that she was a noble woman. Probably in her 20s, her hair is neatly combed back with a braid wrapped around the head and fake hairpiece of moderate size. Matched with the indigo blue skirt, her white jacket trimmed with bluish-purple is simple yet opulent. The purple ribbon in her hair and the red string at her side enhance her beauty. And there is something flirtatious about her slightly turned feet poking out under the long, full skirt and the expression on her delicately lowered face. The women in Shin Yun-bok’s paintings would have been trendsetters, members of the new generation. The navy skirt and white jacket combination that they brought into fashion in the early 19th century is similar in line and color to the sophisticated fashion of Parisian women of the day. The following century was a hard time for Koreans. In the early 20th century, when the country was colonized by Japan, the “modern girls” and the women of subsequent generations, who accepted Western culture by way of Japan, were unable to cultivate their individuality as they tried to emulate others. Another century later, however, their descendants have created the K-beauty boom. Korean women of the 21st century may be a “new species” radically different from their predecessors, causing tectonic changes in the country’s cultural history.

“Portrait of a Beauty” by Shin Yunbok. Late Joseon Dynasty. Ink and color on silk, 114 × 45.5 cm. Revealing the artist’s realist aesthetic, this painting portrays a woman with a flirtatious look on her delicately lowered face. The style of her dress suggesting her upper-class status, she is regarded as the embodiment of the traditional Korean ideal of feminine beauty. Treasure No. 1973.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 17

Natural Beauty

Showcased in the City’s Heart The Coreana Cosmetics Museum in Gangnam, Seoul, is the country’s only museum specializing in cosmetics and beauty culture. Standing in the breeding ground of K-pop, it is where visitors can get acquainted with Korea’s cosmetics history and concept of beauty as the root of K-beauty. Lee Ji-sun Curator, Coreana Cosmetics Museum Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

An aesthetic awareness that complies with nature without trespassing on it is an essential part of Korean culture. This quality, ubiquitously found in architecture, clothing and culinary customs, is also pronounced in the country’s cosmetic tradition. Judging from the human figures depicted in ancient tomb murals and other relics, Korea had a noticeable makeup culture as early as the first century B.C. The practice of makeup flourished during the Goryeo Dynasty (918–1392), when elaborate cosmetics containers and bronze mirrors were produced. During the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910), the concept of natural beauty emerged as people tried to create modestly graceful looks using natural cosmetics. Korea’s age-old makeup culture has evolved continuously, and with the help of modern technology, the efficacy of natural ingredients used in traditional cosmetics has been maximized to satisfy people’s desire to look beautiful.

K-Pop and K-Beauty The Coreana Cosmetics Museum opened in 2003 with the collection of Yu Sangok, the founder and chairman of Coreana Cosmetics. Yu had long felt sorry to find that his overseas business partners knew nothing about Korea’s outstanding cosmetic tradition. Thus, he devoted himself to studying traditional culture and expanding his collection of

18 KOREANA Winter 2018

Pre-modern Korean women used ground grains, such as mung beans, soy beans and red beans, to wash their faces, as mentioned in the “Principles and Practice of Eastern Medicine,” the early 17th-century medical book inscribed on the UNESCO Memory of the World Register. The natural ingredients widely used for face powders and color makeup include rice, four o’clock flower seeds, red clay and safflower petals.

Â© Coreana Cosmetics Museum

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 19

beauty-related artifacts. To design the museum, Yu commissioned Chung Gu-yon (1945–2011; also spelled Jung Ki-yong), a well-known ecological architect. The cosmetics company CEO who sought the source of beauty in nature and the architect who promoted eco-friendly architecture agreed to create a space that would feel like a garden in the middle of the city. Their efforts have paid off and helped tranform the Gangnam area into not only a dynamic hub for K-pop but also for K-beauty.

Natural Ingredients As visitors enter the museum, the first thing that comes to sight is a display of materials that women of pre-modern days used for makeup. One might expect the ingredients to be different from those used today, and indeed the exhibits are mostly grains and other natural materials. These materials are mentioned in the “Principles and Practice of Eastern Medicine” (Dongui bogam) written by Heo Jun (1539–1615). The Joseon-era medical book, which is included in the UNESCO Memory of the World Register, provides detailed prescriptions for a variety of diseases and information relevant to makeup. They include nutrition supply, whitening and anti-aging, as well as remedies for cosmetics poisoning, spots, and so on. Surprisingly, the skin problems that worried women centuries ago were not so different from today’s. The museum exhibits natural cleansers made with ground mung beans, soy beans, or red beans, as well as face powders of finely ground rice, four o’clock flowers, or red clay. Women of the old days were evidently fastidious in choosing their powders, seeking ingredients that matched their skin tones. They made personalized products by mixing them with white powder, the colors ranging from pale peach to

1. Celadon Nesting Case Set with Inlaid Chrysanthemum Design. Goryeo Dynasty. Diameter: 11.4 cm (outer case), 3.6 cm (inner case). Nesting case sets (mojahap) were used to hold face powder, blusher, eyebrow ink and other cosmetics. 2. Lacquered Mirror Stand Inlaid with Mother-of-pearl. Joseon Dynasty. Width: 18.6 cm, Depth: 25.5 cm, Height: 15.6 cm. The mirror stand is decorated with tortoiseshell designs on the front and a landscape design on either side. The lid is folded back to prop the mirror upright when in use. There is a drawer at the bottom to store makeup utensils. 3. Mirror with Baoxiang Floral Design. Goryeo Dynasty. Diameter: 18.9 cm. This circular copper mirror is decorated on the back with a design of three floral scrolls, with clusters of fruits in between, inside a border running around the edge. The baoxiang motif stylized in this way is distinctive of Goryeo, seldom found in China or Japan.

2 3

20 KOREANA Winter 2018

The practice of makeup flourished during the Goryeo Dynasty (918–1392), when elaborate cosmetics containers and bronze mirrors were produced. pearl white. Then there are materials for the eyebrows, which were given as much attention as basic skin cover, and rouge for cheeks and lips made from safflower petals. These products are recreated in the old ways, so that visitors can see how they were made and used in the past.

Porcelain Containers While cosmetics were mainly for women, fragrance was enjoyed by men and women alike. In traditional Korean society, fragrance was widely used in daily life to remove body odor, repel harmful insects, and relax body and mind. People would wear pouches of scent attached to accessories or keep them in the wardrobe to preserve the smell as long as possible. In the museum, there is a separate section for traditional fragrances, where visitors can try an array of different items.

As most of these traditional makeup products were made personally by the user, they were not made in large quantities. Storage was another problem since the natural ingredients spoiled easily. Therefore, cosmetics were stored in small porcelain containers because, unlike metals, porcelain has a porous surface that lets air through, preventing natural cosmetics from going bad. The museum showcases various cosmetics containers from different periods, including earthenware from Unified Silla (676–935), celadon from Goryeo and buncheong ware (grayish-blue stoneware covered in white slip) and blue and white porcelain from Joseon. They vary not only in color and design, but also in their form. Including oil jars as well as pots, cases and dishes for powder, these containers provide a glimpse of how cosmetics thrived in Korea, supported by advanced ceramic technologies.

Hands-On Programs Natural cosmetics contained in porcelain ware had been used for ages when Western culture brought changes. The museum exhibits Korea’s first modern cosmetic product called Parkabun (“Park’s Cosmetic Powder”) and other items from different periods to illustrate how makeup has evolved to the present. Tools for personal grooming such as combs and mirrors, and women’s accessories such as binyeo (hairpins for chignons) and norigae (tasseled ornaments worn on the jacket front) are also on permanent display. In addition, by introducing the makeup customs of China and Japan, with which Korea has maintained close cultural relations, the museum also provides an overview of East Asian beauty traditions. The museum has held exhibitions in many countries to introduce Korea’s time-honored makeup tradition to the world. It also runs a variety of programs for different age groups, both Korean and foreign, where they can try making traditional cosmetics, smell traditional fragrances, or produce their own DIY cosmetics.

1. Norigae with Three Jeweled Tassels. Joseon Dynasty. Length: 38 cm. Norigae was a popular adornment for clothes among Joseon women. The three-tasseled norigae with a different gem attached to each tassel was the most luxurious form. 2. Jade Openwork Hairpins. Joseon Dynasty. Length: (from top) 24 cm, 37.4 cm, 25.2 cm, 20 cm. Binyeo were used to fix a woman’s chignon in place. These hairpins differed in material and design according to the wearer’s social standing, occasion and season.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 21

SPECIAL FEATURE 3

K-Beauty: The Blooming Industry and Korean Aesthetics

Korea Seduces the Global Beauty World The Korean Wave sparked by TV dramas has recently expanded to beauty products, giving rise to “K-beauty.” With the explosive popularity of Korean skincare and makeup products among overseas consumers and their rising influence in the global market, the Korean cosmetics industry has reached a significant turning point. Lim Seung-hyuk Executive Editor, Beauty In Heo Dong-wuk Photographer

Numerous “road shops” and flagship stores of Korean beauty brands line the streets of Myeong-dong in downtown Seoul, the most popular shopping destination among tourists.

22 KOREANA Winter 2018

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 23

he Korean Wave, which was fueled by the popularity of Korean TV dramas in China, Japan and Southeast Asia in the 2000s, has since expanded to the rest of the world. K-pop has also become a powerful driver of hallyu, and more recently, K-beauty has taken the global beauty world by storm. This past May, global cosmetics giant L’Oréal acquired Korean fashion company Stylenanda’s mid-low priced makeup brand 3CE for 400 billion won (US$351 million) with the aim of expanding to China, where 3CE ranks number one in color cosmetics brand recognition. And last year, Unilever, a British-Dutch transnational consumer goods company, paid 3 trillion won (US$2.7 billion) for Carver Korea, a homegrown cosmetics firm known for its skincare brand AHC. In 2014, the New York Times article “South Korea Exports Its Glow” said that Korean skincare products had taken over the American beauty market, traditionally dominated by European and Japanese brands.

The Wave Begins

K-beauty took off in earnest around 2014 when BB cream became a sensation. Korean beauty companies developed the cream, originally created for use after dermatological procedures, into an all-in-one product for everyday use, merging foundation, moisturizer and sunscreen. Buoyed by its popularity, cosmetics topped the list of Korea’s online exports, signaling strong growth in the industry. Up until then, in Europe and America, Asian beauty had been synonymous with Japanese beauty. Japanese cosmetics brands with a long history, such as Shiseido, Kanebo and Kosé, had secured early dominance in those markets with their presence in major department stores in New York, Paris, London and Milan. Another Japanese brand, SK-II, was enjoying huge popularity worldwide on the back of aggressive mar-

keting by its parent company, Procter & Gamble, an American competitor of Unilever. On the other hand, not a single Korean cosmetics brand had entered a high-end department store overseas, or if they had they did not last long. That’s when BB cream hit the scene, paving the way for the globalization of K-beauty. The BB cream craze was widely covered by American Vogue and beauty magazine Allure, as well as many other magazines. Pointing out that the versatile cream originated in Korea, they raved about its multitasking properties: evening skin tone and producing a natural, no-makeup look in addition to providing sun protection. The K-beauty craze continued with CC cream, followed by sheet masks. Sheet masks actually emerged as the new icon of K-beauty, spawning rumors that “Korean women use a sheet mask once a day.” The global success of Korean beauty products has led to structural changes in the domestic industry. According to the Ministry of Food and Drug Safety, the number of cosmetics manufacturers and distributers soared from 3,884 in 2013 to 8,175 in 2016 and further to 10,080 in 2017. The Korea Customs Service reported that in 2017, cosmetics exports had jumped 18.5 percent year-on-year to a record high of US$4,968 million (5,291 billion won), and expected the growth momentum to continue this year. This is phenomenal growth, especially considering lagging sales in the Chinese market amid political tensions over the deployment of the advanced anti-missile system THAAD in South Korea. Behind such a strong showing are efforts to continually pursue innovative ideas in product development, such as convergence technology, which has been a recent trend. “Cosmeceuticals,” combining cosmetics and pharmaceuticals, are emerging as a new driver of growth. Beauty products that go a step beyond skin-brightening and anti-aging are set to become the next big thing. Hallyu stars have been the

Korean Cosmetics Exports (2017)

US$4,968,000,000 Korean cosmetics exports hit a record high in 2017 and continue strong growth in 2018. Source Korea Customs Service

24 KOREANA Winter 2018

Beauty industry experts say that the greatest strength of Korean cosmetics companies lies in their ability to swiftly execute ideas and incorporate technology. driving force behind the K-beauty craze. In 2014, the lipstick and face powder that actress Jun Ji-hyun (a.k.a. Gianna Jun) wore in the hit TV series “My Love from the Star” became all the rage and exports surged. In 2016, the products endorsed by Song Hye-kyo enjoyed continuing popularity overseas after the broadcast of her hit mini-series “Descendants of the Sun.” Copying the look of K-pop girl groups like Twice and Mamamoo has become a fad among women in many countries.

prompted cosmetics companies to continually strive for higher quality.

Beauty Creators

YouTube beauty creators have also played an instrumental role in propagating K-beauty. Their influence has been growing in line with the shift in marketing strategies of domestic cosmetics companies. Rather than making expensive television commercials, cosmetics brands are more willing to collaborate with beauty vloggers with greater impact online. Popular beauty Ideas and Technologies But it would not be fair to give all the credit to celebrities. YouTubers with an eye on the global market are creating conBeauty industry workers have contributed just as much to the tent tailored for overseas viewers with subtitles in various lanstunning growth. Industry experts say that the greatest strength guages, including English, Chinese and Thai. of Korean cosmetics companies lies in their ability to swiftTop beauty creators enjoy celebrity status. Star YouTubers, ly execute ideas and incorporate technology. The diversity of such as Risabae, Ssin and Pony, have enormous commercial ingredients is also an important factor behind the global succlout, often selling 100 million won worth of products just five cess. Korean cosmetics brands are quick to launch products minutes into their shows. They have appeared in commercials infused with novel, even wacky, ingredients. Among notable for major cosmetics brands, such as AmorePacific and LG examples are mask packs containing donkey milk, which is Household & Health Care, and collaborated on marketing camsaid to be similar to human breast milk in its composition, skinpaigns. Influenced by popular Korean beauty creators, a growcare products formulated with herbal ingredients and moisturing number of foreign YouTubers and beauty bloggers have izing creams infused with snail mucin. also started to produce Korean makeup tutorials. One-person Overseas cosmetics merchandisers also point out that media creators are emerging as powerful figures behind excellent quality is the underlying strength of K-beauty. It will be interesting to watch their K-beauty. This can be attributed in part to contributions going forward. domestic consumers who seek good Naver, Korea’s leading web porquality for an affordable price. tal, also provides beauty content Their high standards have through its blog and video Number of Korean Cosmetics

Manufacturers and Distributors

2013

3,884

2016

8,175

2017

10,080

The K-beauty boom has propelled rapid expansion of the Korean cosmetics industry. Source Ministry of Food and Drug Safety

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 25

platforms. Currently, some 7,000 content creators and 900 professional beauty creators, including former Miss Korea turned beauty influencer Lee Sarah, are active on Naver. As beauty content creators continue to expand their sphere of influence, many young people dream of entering the field. Whereas in the past, beauty-related jobs usually meant makeup artist, beautician or nail artist, many youth today pursue a career as a beauty creator. Catering to this trend, several universities have opened related departments, and beauty schools and web portals are providing diverse educational programs.

Reaching Beyond Asia

tive cosmetics market, which was worth some 250 billion won in 2017. Hence, beauty brands from not only Korea, but also Japan, America and Europe are vying for a greater share of the market. Among them, Korean brands are the dominant players, commanding a 50 percent market share. Going beyond Asia, the K-beauty craze has reached the Western world as well. During the first half of 2017, Korea’s cosmetics exports to the United States reached US$270 million, an increase of 43.3 percent over the previous year. As global retailers have become more receptive of Korean brands, it is no longer hard to find Korean beauty products at department stores and outlet malls across the United States. According to 2016 statistics by the Korea Cosmetic Industry Institute, over 70 percent of Korean cosmetics’ overseas markets were concentrated in Asia, with China accounting for 39.1 percent, Hong Kong 24.7 percent, Japan 4.6 percent and Taiwan 3.1 percent. The United States accounted for 9.1 percent, the highest outside Asia. Recently, however, domestic brands are witnessing visible changes in the European market. In particular, natural beauty products made from plant-based ingredients, such as ginseng, green tea and aloe, have appealed to vegan consumers. K-beauty is further expanding its reach into the Latin American market, too, fueled by the soaring popularity of BTS and other pop stars. Not only has the Korean beauty market grown quantitatively, it has also been showing strong qualitative growth. Many global cosmetics brands are using the Korean market as a test bed, carefully gauging consumers’ reactions to their products. Driven by continuing efforts for product innovation and discovery of new ingredients, as well as the training of beauty content creators and the global popularity of hallyu stars, K-beauty is expected to continue its strong growth path in the global cosmetics market, valued at around US$532 billion as of 2017.

As word spreads among overseas consumers via YouTube and social media that Korean beauty products are worth the extra cost and time for international delivery, the efforts of domestic cosmetics brands to enter overseas markets are gaining momentum. K-beauty is all the rage in Japan, the third largest cosmetics market in the world after America and China. According to the Korea Customs Service, direct online sales of Korean beauty products to Japan reached 47.8 billion won in the first quarter of 2018, representing an 850 percent year-on-year increase. In China, too, despite the sharp decline in Chinese tourists visiting Korea in the wake of the THAAD dispute, Korean beauty products are still hot. According to annual consumption data by Tmall Global, China’s biggest e-commerce site where foreign brands can sell directly to Chinese consumers, Korean products ranked fifth in sales among all imports in 2017. There was particularly strong demand for Korean mask packs, which accounted for around half of last year’s total mask pack sales of 700 billion won. The next big market is Vietnam, which has emerged as the “post-China” market. With 70 percent of the population being under 40 years old, Vietnam represents a lucraGlobal Cosmetics Market Share

by Country (2016) U.S. China Japan Brazil Germany UK France S. Korea

19.4% 12.0% 9.0% 6.4% 4.1% 3.9% 3.4% 3.0%

Korea ranks eighth in the global cosmetics market, following France. Source Korea Health Industry Development Institute

26 KOREANA Winter 2018

Ssin

YouTube Guru

Lee Hyo-won Asia Correspondent, The Hollywood Reporter

at the Vanguard of K-Beauty

Ssin has built a reputation as an enfant terrible in the world of beauty influencers, but the 28-yearold is surprisingly tame — even a tad mirthless — when we first sit down for an interview in Seoul. It

embarrass you years down the road. But she is best known for transforming into improbable personas — such as male celebrities and iconic cartoon characters. “I actually feel a lot more at ease pulling off men, monsters or such. In fact, I find it much more taxing to try to be pretty,” she said.

is soon clear, however, that the YouTube star, who

Ssin, whose real name is Park Su-hye, was an art student at university when she first

had returned from a business trip the night before,

began posting YouTube videos of her incredible self-transformations. Her fascination with

is simply tired. She was on location in Los Angeles,

makeup began more as a means of self-expression rather than a wish to beautify. “I started

where she filmed a Halloween special.

experimenting with makeup at home when I was in junior high. I painted my face to emulate

In recent years, Halloween has become popular among young Koreans as a chance to dress up and explore their alter egos. Last year, Ssin created

characters in ‘Cats’ or ‘Ju-on: The Grudge’ [Japanese ghost horror franchise].” Soon, a hobby turned into a fulltime job, with collaboration projects with local makeup brands such as Too Cool for School, TV appearances and jet setting around the world.

an ambitious series titled “13 Days of Halloween,”

With the growing influence of K-pop, Ssin’s uncanny ability to morph into a boy band

where she showcased a different spooky look for 13

member has made her one of the most in-demand beauty stars at industry events overseas,

consecutive days, ranging from a coy, silver-wigged

such as KCON, a convention and showcase for K-pop content held annually in southern Califor-

cat with glittery eye shadow and face jewels to a

nia. She explains that South Korean beauty influencers have now become an integral part of

ghoulish, black-and-white clown cloaked in black, for

such events, particularly in Southeast Asia. “The concept of influencers has recently become a

her 1.6 million subscribers.

phenomenon in Southeast Asia, much like in Korea five years ago. K-beauty is always featured

The Halloween series perhaps best exemplifies

in related events there, so I’ve been pretty busy traveling overseas.”

what sets Ssin apart from many beauty gurus both

She continues to be amazed by the far-reaching influence of K-beauty and its content.

near and far. She is considered second to none

“French locals recognized me on the streets of Paris, which was really strange,” she said.

when it comes to sharing daily makeup tips, from

“Nowadays, you can easily find Korean makeup products at Sephora. I think Korean road shop

choosing the best products of the season for a giv-

brands should really be credited for the popularity of K-beauty. After all, who doesn’t appreci-

en local brand to taking passport photos that won’t

ate a cutely packaged product that works well and is super affordable?”

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 27

SPECIAL FEATURE 4

K-Beauty: The Blooming Industry and Korean Aesthetics

K-Beauty Experience

In Depth and Personal From glittery salons and spas in the upscale Gangnam district to more affordable “road shops” along popular tourist routes, Korea’s beauty market brims with energy, satisfying customers of diverse tastes, preferences and financial means. The Hollywood Reporter’s Asia correspondent Lee Hyo-won reports on her tour of some of the hotspots. Lee Hyo-won Asia Correspondent, The Hollywood Reporter Heo Dong-wuk Photographer

t’s a typical weekday afternoon in Daehangno, one of Seoul’s busiest downtown strips that is both a college area and an enclave for the local theater and dance communities. There is a lengthy queue at the two-storey Etude House, a South Korean cosmetics brand targeting young 20-somethings with its Barbie-pink logo and dollhouse-inspired store design. Past the myriad of candy-hued lipsticks, eye shadow palettes and more is Color Factory, a studio where in-house beauty consultants help visitors to discover their “personal color,” or optimal shade to help bring out the best in their intrinsic features. In other words, lavender isn’t all the same; some have cooler magenta undertones and others a warmer pinkish sheen. © ETUDE HOUSE

28 KOREANA Winter 2018

Etude House store at the Dubai Mall, one of the world’s largest shopping malls in the United Arab Emirates. A popular brand for the teens and twenties in Korea, the “road shop” brand presents its bestseller products optimized to the skin of the locals.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 29

Etude House is but one of many local brands offering such services designed to foster a positive customer experience in this Instagram age, where users set and propel trends by sharing their hands-on encounters in real time. A consultant invites you to sit down before a brightly lit vanity mirror and first asks whether you’re wearing foundation so she can configure the settings of a small camera device the size of a smartphone that scans your skin tone.

Personal Color

Riding on the allure of K-pop, “K-beauty” exports exceeded US$317 million in 2016, shooting up 45.7 percent from the year before (September 2017 data from the Korea Trade Promotion Corporation, or KOTRA) to become the world’s fifth biggest exporter in the industry. Korea is the No. 8 global market for beauty and personal care products, valued at a whopping US$15.5 billion according to Statista, and it is projected to grow to about US$17 billion by the end of this year. Ninety percent of new launches are facial skincare products that promise a dewy, chok chok glow. “K-beauty is first and foremost about great skin, and this can be observed in Koreans’ famous multi-step skincare routine

where you apply at least five different types of toners, lotions and serums,” says Kim Chung-kyung, who is reputedly Korea’s leading makeup artist and has been creating looks for A-listers for over 30 years, including actress Song Hye-kyo and K-pop diva Lee Hyori. Kim recently launched her own line of vitamin-C serum, which is already a huge hit at home as the ingredient is widely known for brightening the complexion. “For Koreans, it’s all about translucent skin,” says Kim. In fact, Etude House’s personal color search is designed to help find the optimal lipstick shade that will enhance the overall look of the face — or more specifically the skin. “Asian skin can largely be divided into two types, as having a yellowish undertone versus a ruddier one,” says Park Jung-ha, a beauty consultant for Etude House. There is a historical explanation for the minute attention to skin tone. “East Asian countries have generally valued fair skin,” says Lee Ji-sun, a curator at the Coreana Cosmetics Museum in Seoul. “This is because it was a status symbol. Korea was traditionally an agrarian society where the lower down you were in the social ladder the more likely you were to toil under the sun.

30 KOREANA Winter 2018

Being privileged meant you spent a lot of time indoors, and so the basic beauty standard was white skin.” What sets traditional Korean standards of beauty apart, however, from those of its East Asian neighbors, Lee says, is the heavy focus on a natural look. “The Japanese, for example, prized pasty white skin as reflected in geisha makeup. But for Koreans, it was all about a healthy, natural glow,” Lee says. And so, unlike the Japanese, who would turn to ingredients like powdered stone to achieve an opaque whiteness, Korean ancestors often mixed yellow hwangto mud with rice powder to create what would be the equivalent of today’s diverse shades of foundation. Peach and apricot pits, widely known for having skin-brightening properties, were also ground down for cleansing. Today, such time-honored aesthetic standards continue to be found in dominating trends. BB cream, a popular invention attributed to Korea and originally created to help conceal laser treatment scars, has long been replaced by the lighter, more translucent CC cream. And now, an even more lightweight formula called “tone-up cream” is taking over the market. Women remain the main target group for beauty products, but Kim, who operates a chain of highly reputed makeup and hair salons, noticed how “increasingly uninhibited” the men — including fathers of the bride or groom — have become about applying BB cream for wedding photo shoots.

Radiant, Chok Chok Skin

According to a July 2018 report by the Gangnam District Office, medical tourism to this area (made famous by the singer Psy and known for its trendy boutiques, cosmetics clinics and restaurants) surpassed 70,000 people in both 2016 and 2017. Skincare and plastic surgery together were the leading drivers of medical tourism at 59.2 percent, followed by Oriental medicine, which accounted for 9.4 percent.

1. Reporter Lee Hyo-won receives the premium massage at the Sullhwasoo flagship store in Cheongdam-dong, Seoul. The massage program features ginseng-based skincare products and jade applicators to help increase the skin’s self-regeneration. 2. Lee Hyo-won receives makeup service at a beauty salon in Garosu-gil Road in Gangnam, Seoul. Such services were mostly used by celebrities in the past, but they are growing more popular among the general public as the number of inexpensive franchise shops increases.

Not surprisingly, an explosively popular destination for aesthetics-driven tourism that crosses the two leading tourism factors, skincare and Oriental medicine, is Sulhwasoo Spa, a glittery, golden-hued establishment adorned with crystal light fixtures. The Korean skincare brand draws customers from near and far with products featuring local plants used in centuries-old medicinal ingredients, such as ginseng toners, red pine eye cream, pine mushroom anti-wrinkle serums and camellia hair oil. The Cheongdam-dong flagship store is located in Gangnam’s Dosan Park area where luxury brand boutiques such as Hermes can be found. It offers premium facial and body massage treatments using the famed Sulwhasoo products and features elegantly lit private cafés for herbal drinks and artfully prepared tradition-inspired snacks and shopping for goods exclusively available there such as herbal facial soap bars. Sulwhasoo Spa’s signature regime, Ginseng Journey, is rather upmarket at 250,000 won and the average wait for securing a reservation is about two weeks, requiring a down payment of 50,000 won. This is a considerable period in light of how the country’s saturated beauty and aesthetics market often allows you to walk into many of Gangnam’s most reputable dermatology clinics and upscale massage parlors without prior arrangements. According to Sulwhasoo, about half of its clients are foreign tourists, the vast majority being Chinese. In fact, Chinese tourists accounted for about 40 percent of tourists in Gangnam in 2017. Spa users are led into a subtly lit gallery featuring centuries-old wooden makeup chests and other vintage beauty props. A consultant in chic uniform invites you to sit down and fill out a lengthy questionnaire about your daily skincare routine, relat-

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 31

ed concerns (hydration, pores, wrinkles, etc.), and any health issues to take into account for body massages, should you choose to receive one. The 90-minute Ginseng Journey comprises a short foot bath, aroma therapy, facial treatment applied with a C-shaped white jade massage stone, as well as neck and scalp rubs. Clients are given private rooms with a dressing and showering corner and spa area featuring a foot bath and bed, plus a tub for spa packages including an herbal bath.

Ginseng Beauty Care

Ginseng’s most active ingredient is saponin, the effects of which have been examined in various scientific studies and range from skin wound healing to anti-aging. “Ginseng is one of the most frequently mentioned herbs in ‘Principles and Practice of Eastern Medicine’ (Dongui bogam),” explains curator Lee about the iconic 17th-century book written by a court physician that continues to be an important reference for Oriental medicine and traditional Korean cuisine. “Ginseng was too valuable to be used for makeup back then. But given how ginseng has long been prized for its health benefits, it isn’t surprising that it has become a popular ingredient for local skin care products,” says the curator. “Korean beauty, after all, is all about a luminous, glowing complexion that suggests you are in

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good health.” Koreans’ obsession with facial and skin beauty often overshadows fashion, though the country is an established fashion powerhouse in Asia. “Many stars wear high-end brands, which is something the general public can’t always afford. But great makeup or hairstyling is something that can be attained at relatively low cost, such as by watching YouTube tutorials. After all, a Chanel lipstick costs less than a purse,” says stylist Shin Hye-ryeon, who has curated looks for “Walking Dead” star Steven Yeun and actor Park Hae-jin. If makeup sessions at beauty salons like Kim Chungkyung’s had been reserved for special occasions or celebrities in the past, they are now more affordable and readily available at such quick-fix franchises like Style Bar X. With two locations in the Gangnam district, the establishment offers 30-minute services for makeup, hair styling or eyebrow shaping, or all

1. The Sullhwasoo flagship store, luxuriously designed by the Chinese duo Neri & Hu, has subdued lantern light as the brand’s metaphor. The store offers customers not only an exclusive spa experience but also various cultural events and exhibitions. 2. Jade applicators used for the Sullhwasoo spa treatment program. Each is used for a different body part and has a different effect.

“ Korean beauty, after all, is all about a luminous, glowing complexion that suggests you are in good health.”

to be named. “I felt like I had to look my best. There was a rumor that everything would be decided in one second, from your first impression.” Until recently it was customary for companies to require job seekers to attach photos to their resumes, but the practice was outlawed in 2015. The quest for beauty, moreover, has virtually become a “democratic right” in Korea, which seems to be reflected in the numbers. The country’s ubiquitous cosmetic drugstores, such as Olive Young, Watsons and even Boots, carrying an array of affordable products, form a ceaselessly growing market of about 1.8 trillion won.

Affordable Experiences

three in just an hour and a half. Makeup tutorial sessions are also available. For 85,000 won I received the full treatment, minus the option of getting my hair washed afresh but with the added feature of getting an up-do. The makeup artist began the session with a few questions about the style I wanted, my daily makeup routine and any allergies I might have. The range of makeup products was, surprisingly, not Korean but the more popular Western brands like Nars and Mac. Nevertheless, users often come in for makeup tutorials, which are offered as either one-time sessions or a package of five. “An increasing number of foreign tourists want to learn the techniques. There is definitely a huge interest in the looks made famous by hallyu stars,” says makeup artist Jin Min, referring to actors and singers that drive Korean Wave content such as TV dramas, pop music and films. Local customers usually come to Style Bar X to get their brows reshaped (12,000 won), or have their makeup done and hair styled for occasions such as weddings, passport photos, job interviews and first dates. “I vividly remember getting my hair and makeup done professionally for my job interview 11 years ago,” says a 34-yearold flight attendant for a major local airline, who preferred not

Brands such as Etude House targeting younger consumers are competing to offer more affordable onsite experiences. At the Innisfree flagship store in Myeong-dong, one of Seoul’s most popular tourist destinations, visitors are welcome to store their luggage and receive beauty consulting services similar to Etude House. Similar smartphone-sized devices are used to rate your “skin age” — namely analyzing the size of pores and wrinkles as well as skin elasticity, sun damage and hydration levels. Visitors are also encouraged to take part in a virtual reality (VR) experience to learn how Innisfree’s products highlight natural ingredients hailing from the volcanic Jeju Island. These so-called “road shop brands” offer competitive prices, and a basic facial toner, serum and cream trio set costs about 50,000 won, or about one-tenth the price of that of Sulwhasoo, which goes for more than 500,000 won. “I really admired the range of affordable products and procedures that were available to people of all financial backgrounds. In the U.S., only the higher income individuals tend to turn towards plastic surgery or have access to the latest and best skin products or procedures,” says Nadeera Dawlagala, a general surgery resident from New York seeking to specialize in plastic surgery, who attended a conference in Seoul last year. Gwendolyn Rainer, a 35-year-old American, made her first visit to South Korea two years ago for business but the experience was not complete without taking home a range of “road shop” products including snail-slime sheet masks. “I made sure to leave space in my suitcase because my friends and colleagues asked me for specific products,” she says. “Of course, I knew I wanted some for myself as well.”

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FOCUS

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Revisiting

a Forgotten Kingdom “Goryeo: The Glory of Korea,” a grand-scale exhibition organized by the National Museum of Korea, is the first comprehensive overview of the art of Goryeo, the unified medieval state that governed the Korean peninsula from 918 to 1392. The special exhibition, which opens on December 4, 2018 and runs until March 3, 2019, showcases some 450 artifacts from the collections of 45 institutions at home and abroad. Jeong Myoung-hee Senior Curator, National Museum of Korea

“Bronze Statue of Taejo Wang Geon” (detail). 10th–11th century. Height: 138.3 cm. Excavated in 1992 from Hyonrung, a tomb complex in the Historic Monuments and Sites in Kaesong, the old capital of the Goryeo Dynasty, it is the only extant regal statue in Korea. The statue was found with only a jade belt as its original silk robe decomposed. © Korean Central History Museum

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rom the outset, Goryeo respected diversity. It maintained multilateral diplomatic relations with neighboring states, and upheld openness and integration to such an extent that it appointed a foreigner as prime minister. As implied by modern Korea’s English name, meaning “the land of the Goryeo people,” the Korean identity germinated in this kingdom. However, a large swath of Goryeo’s five-century history is veiled in mystery. Today, a majority of South Koreans find it difficult to remember any of the kingdom’s place names or important relics. This is a phenomenon related to an unfortunate period in the country’s modern history, from Japanese colonial rule to the Korean War and the subsequent division of the nation. The ancient kingdom is quite obscure in the collective memory of South Koreans because they have no access to the remains of its capital, Gaegyeong (today’s Kaesong, also spelled Gaeseong), and most of the historic sites of political, religious, cultural and commercial importance, which are in North Korea. In 919, the year after the founding of the kingdom, King Taejo (birth name Wang Geon) built a palace at the southern foot of Mt. Songak. Called Manwoldae (“Full Moon Terrace”), the palace was the main abode of Goryeo kings until 1361, when it was burned down during the invasion of the Red Turbans from China. A 1918 photograph, taken during the Japanese colonial government’s survey of Korea’s historic sites, shows the ancient palace in ruins. The year of the photograph marked the millennial anniversary of the kingdom’s founding, but Koreans, then living under Japanese rule, were unable to stage an official celebration. Consequently, the 1,100th anniversary in 2018 will be remembered as an especially meaningful occasion, coming 100 years after that lost opportunity. To commemorate the anniversary, various exhibitions and academic conferences were held across the country throughout 2018, to shed new light on the history of Goryeo. The highlight may arguably be the special exhibition at the National Museum of Korea in Seoul. It melds a substantial portion of Goryeo relics scattered around the world — in the United States, the United Kingdom, Italy and Japan — as well as the two Koreas. The highlight of this exhibition is expected to be the

1. “Dry-Lacquered Wooden Statue of Huirang Daesa.” 10th century. Dry lacquer on wood. Height: 82 cm. The image of Great Master Huirang (889–966), who was the patriarch of Haein Temple, is the only extant statue of a Buddhist monk carved in his lifetime. Treasure No. 999. 2. “Printing Block of Avatamsaka Sutra: Shouchang Era Edition.” 1098. Wood. 24 × 69.6 cm. This is the oldest extant woodblock with a known date of production in Korea. It is part of the collection of ancient woodblocks kept at Haein Temple.

Goryeo did not reject the cultural traditions of the previous kingdoms; it integrated them into its own culture with a pluralistic attitude. Sometimes with intensity and sometimes with delicate elegance, the art of Goryeo overwhelms the viewer. 36 KOREANA Winter 2018

reunion of Wang Geon, the founder of Goryeo, and Great Master Huirang. The king from North Korea and his mentor in the South will likely meet in Seoul after 11 centuries of separation.

The King and His Mentor

“Bronze Statue of Taejo Wang Geon,” unearthed from Hyonrung (“Hyeonneung” in South Korean Romanization), the tomb complex for the king and his primary consort Queen Sinhye, is the only extant regal statue in Korean history. The 138.3 cm bronze image is part of the Korean Central History Museum in Pyongyang. Sculpted to pray for national prosperity, the statue was temporarily housed in a Buddhist temple and worshipped with sacrificial rites. Later, it was buried in its outfit of a silk robe and a jade belt, but by the time it was excavated in 1992, the robe had decomposed, leaving only the naked statue and the jade belt. Hyonrung is part of the Historic Monuments and Sites in Kaesong, a UNESCO World Heritage site. Known to be carved earlier than 930, on the other hand, the “Dry-Lacquered Wooden Statue of Huirang Daesa” from Haein Temple in Hapcheon, South Gyeongsong Province, is Korea’s only extant statue of a Buddhist monk carved in his lifetime. Noted for its realistic depiction of the monk’s human aspects, the statue is making the first trip since its enshrinement at the temple. The significance of exhibiting these precious relics together is underscored by the special relationship between the two figures. Great Master Huirang, who was a spiritual support to Wang Geon, helped him when he was in political trouble and served as the king’s mentor after Goryeo was established. Since their creation, the statue of Goryeo’s founding monarch and that of the preeminent Buddhist monk have never been displayed together. Therefore, the reunion of the two historical

figures as statues, if it is realized across the inter-Korean border, will be seen as a highly symbolic event. No less remarkable are the woodblocks of the “Tripitaka Koreana,” inscribed on the UNESCO Memory of the World Register. Goryeo had a glorious history of printing, producing the world’s first metal types. Like Christian monks in medieval Europe, who copied the Bible by hand day after day, transcribing scriptures was also an important task for the Buddhist monks of Goryeo. The transition from the long tradition of hand-copying to printing amounted to a major paradigm shift in world history. Both in the East and the West, printing flourished in temples and monasteries where sacred texts were in great demand. The Gutenberg Bible is an icon of the revolution that opened the age of printed books in the cultural history of the West. Similarly, the “Tripitaka Koreana” is the quintessence of Buddhist scriptures and an innovative publication that compiled the wisdom and knowledge of contemporary Asia.

Metal Types and Woodblocks

China’s “Kaibao Tripitaka,” carved between 971 and 983 under the auspices of the first Song emperor Taizu as a project to establish the legitimacy of the empire, was almost completely destroyed by fire. In contrast, Goryeo had the Buddhist canon published three times in national projects. The first edition of the “Tripitaka Koreana,” the world’s second-earliest carving of the canon next to the “Kaibao Tripitaka,” was produced during a national crisis in 1011, when the Khitan invaded Goryeo and seized its capital. After the war, the northern invaders produced the “Khitan Tripitaka,” inspired by the Goryeo canon. After the first edition was destroyed by fire during the Mongol invasions in 1232, a comprehensive recreation of the

2 © Ha Ji-kwon

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1. “Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha.” 14th century. Ink and color on silk. 104.3 × 55.6 cm. The painting depicts Ksitigarbha who is believed to save denizens of hell. It follows the standard composition of Goryeo’s Buddhist paintings with the imposing presence of the main Buddha at the top and various figures arranged along the bottom. Treasure No. 784. 2. “Gilt Silver Ewer and Bowl.” 12th century. Gilt silver. Height (overall): 34.3 cm; Diameter: 9.5 cm (ewer base), 18.8 cm (bowl top), 14.5 (bowl base). The exquisite kettle with the lid decorated with sumptuous lotus flowers and a phoenix and its matching bowl demonstrate the level of artistry achieved by Goryeo’s metal craftsmen. It shows that celadon and metal ware of Goryeo had many similarities in terms of form and decoration. 3. “Celadon Incense Burner with Openwork Geometric Design.” 12th century. Height: 15.3 cm; Base diameter: 11.5 cm. A masterpiece of Goryeo celadon before the development of the inlay technique, the incense burner consists of three parts: the openwork lid, the body and the base. The elaborateness of decorations is balanced by the overall shape with pleasing proportions. National Treasure No. 95.

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Tripitaka was undertaken based on the original version, the Kaibao version and the Khitan version. The outcome were some 160,000 pages of the canon carved on both sides of some 80,000 woodblocks, which is why its Korean name is Palman Daejanggyeong (“Eighty-Thousand Tripitaka”). Preserved for 700 years at Haein Temple, the “Tripitaka Koreana” is a comprehensive compilation of East Asian Buddhist literature and the most complete set of the extant printing blocks of the Tripitaka. According to Professor Robert Buswell Jr., a renowned U.S. Buddhist studies scholar, the closest comparison to the enormous commitment that was required to produce the Tripitaka in medieval East Asia are the U.S. missions to the moon in the 1960s. In Goryeo, the publication of the canon was a grand-scale project that demanded an all-out effort. Mass production of scriptures and their distribution to temples across the kingdom was an important means of reinforcing royal authority and integrating the nation. Internationally, the kingdom boasted of its cultural superiority and seized the diplomatic initiative by presenting the printed scriptures to neighboring countries. Historical literature recording the process of countries requesting the Tripitaka and Goryeo bestowing the scriptures on them as well as their futile attempts to obtain the woodblocks demonstrates the power Goryeo wielded in international relations by means of the “Tripitaka Koreana.”

Inclusion and Integration

Running for three months, the exhibition is divided into three themes. Part 1, “International City Gaegyeong and the Royal Collection,” surveys the kingdom’s active seaborne trade and abundant local products. Goryeo’s capital was an international city frequented by an array of foreigners. In 1123, during the reign of King Injong, a delegation of over 200 envoys was sent by Emperor Huizong of the Chinese Song Dynasty. Xu Jing (1091–1153), a Confucian scholar and member of the delegation, described his one-month stay in Goryeo in his “Illustrated Record of Chinese Emissary to Goryo during the Xuanhe Era” (Xuanhe fengshi Gaoli tujing). Xu submitted the book to the emperor with detailed descriptions and illustrations of the customs and culture that he observed in the capital city. However, the illustrations were lost in war when the Jin Dynasty destroyed the Northern Song a few years later, and only the text has been handed down. Visitors stepping foot in this part of the

exhibition will time travel to Gaegyeong, the heart of Goryeo that they cannot visit today. Part 2, “Temple Art,” introduces artworks for Buddhist temples, which were major consumers of art along with the royal court. Buddhism was Goryeo’s state religion and philosophy, as well as the center of life and spirituality, or life itself. The kingdom derived its brilliant cultural achievements from Buddhism. No other state before or after Goryeo appreciated and promoted Buddhist philosophy and values more thoroughly. Finally, Part 3 shows the “Arts 3 and Crafts of Goryeo.” Goryeo was © National Museum of Korea capable of independent existence, but for over 200 years, it also made sure to maintain diplomatic relations and cultural exchanges with the changing dynasties of China, including the Song in mainland China as well as the Liao of the Khitan and the Jin of the Jurchen in the northern region. During late Goryeo, China was ruled by the Yuan Dynasty, which constructed the largest empire the world had ever seen up to that time. Throughout the period, the circumstances surrounding the kingdom constantly changed and numerous wars erupted in the process. Ironically, however, the roads of warring armies also served as the routes for cultural interactions. Consequently, in this age of turmoil, Goryeo’s superb artworks and handicrafts were created and circulated widely through the exchange of skills and integration of heterogeneous elements. Recordings of these transactions in historical literature are fragmentary. However, the extant artworks vividly show that Goryeo engaged in cultural exchanges with various kingdoms of China and Japan. Focusing on this international quality, this exhibition presents Goryeo’s artworks in a way that illustrates its distintive cultural achievements in relation to other East Asian countries.

Rediscovery of Immutable Worth

Goryeo did not reject the cultural traditions of the previous kingdoms; it integrated them into its own culture with a pluralistic attitude. The Goryeo people captured human emotions and sensibilities, and expressed them in distinguished works of art through their ingenious use of colors, materials and techniques. Sometimes with intensity and sometimes with delicate elegance, the art of Goryeo overwhelms the viewer. In this exhibition, visitors will rediscover the forgotten Kingdom and the timelessness of its art.

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INTERVIEW

One of the most sought-after costume designers in Korean cinema, Cho Sang-kyung strives to achieve artistic perfection, spending an enormous amount of time doing legwork as well as exhaustively researching historical documents and visual materials.

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Costume Designer Brings Cast to Life Cho Sang-kyung, one of Korea’s most sought-after costume designers, approaches movie and TV projects with laborious hours of research and analysis. “I become a shaman the moment I receive the script,” she says. Her creations added dramatic intensity and glamour to numerous hits, including Park Chan-wook’s “Oldboy” and, more recently, the TV series “Mr. Sunshine.” Kang Yun-ju Professor, Department of Culture and Art Management, Graduate School of Kyung Hee Cyber University Ha Ji-kwon and Heo Dong-wuk Photographers

ost people would find it awkward to look directly into the eyes of someone they are meeting for the first time even if they are not particularly shy. So etiquette books would advise you to “fix your gaze between the other person’s eyes.” But when I first met Cho Sang-kyung, she stared straight into my eyes. I felt almost blinded by her intense gaze. Perhaps it was that intensity that guided her to tackle this year’s hit TV drama “Mr. Sunshine.” Cho is the mastermind behind the costumes in award winners at international film festivals, such as “Oldboy” (2003), “Sympathy for Lady Vengeance” (2005) and “The Host” (2006), as well as recent blockbusters like “Along with the Gods” and “A Taxi Driver.” Her artistry shines particularly in period pieces, and her recent foray into TV drama, even more popular than film, has made her name more widely known.

Exhaustive Historical Research

Despite years of experience in cinematic and stage productions under her belt, small-screen drama remained an unfamiliar genre. Nonetheless, Cho decided to embrace the challenge of

“Mr. Sunshine” with the conviction that it would become a true masterpiece. Director Lee Eung-bok and writer Kim Eun-sook conceived the historical drama series in 2008 and continuously worked on developing the script to produce a work of art, not just commercial fare. Since Cho is known for her meticulousness, I was curious to learn what painstaking preparations she had made before filming began. But, in fact, she was only given around a month or so to prepare, even though the pre-production period lasted 11 months. Movies start filming with a finished script, but TV dramas have a much tighter schedule. Cho had to deliver a design concept based on the director’s story outline and the scripts of the first two episodes. Moreover, what was originally planned as a 16-episode series was then extended to 20 and eventually to 24 episodes, which meant she had to grapple with a relentless, unforgiving time crunch. Despite the demanding conditions, Cho’s thoroughness shone through, an example being the uniform worn by the protagonist Eugene Choi, a U.S. Marine Corps officer, played by Lee Byung-hun.

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Cho checks the costume for the King of Hell in the recent movie â&#x20AC;&#x153;Along With the Gods.â&#x20AC;? Creating costumes for a fictitious character requires her to exercise her imagination to the fullest.

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“At first, I suggested that Eugene Choi be an officer in the Navy rather than the Marine Corps because the naval uniforms during the period were way more dazzling,” said Cho. “But it was rejected. Frankly speaking, I’m still not satisfied with his outfit. But I couldn’t just change the style as I wished. I tried as best I could to replicate the uniforms of the U.S. Marines during the late 19th and early 20th century, the movie’s time period. Still, I received a complaint. Apparently, the emblems on the uniforms were incorrectly positioned. What could I do but acknowledge my mistake and apologize?” To assure authenticity, Cho had the uniforms custom-made in the United States. Striving for perfection, she had the hats and boots made separately by professionals. For the military uniforms, she could draw on research that began in 2010, when she was commissioned to design uniforms for “The Front Line,” a movie based on events during the Korean War. She soon learned that so-called “military buffs” own more uniforms than most museums and decided to meet one of them. She visited the house of an administrator of an online military gear and weapons community and was flabbergasted. With the exception of a mattress in the middle of the living room, the entire house was crammed with military gear, from uniforms and hats to medals and badges. The fanatic enthusiasm with which he recounted his army stories was so overpowering that she had to take someone along on her second visit. But thanks to the help of those military buffs, she was able to vividly recreate the looks of the soldiers in the movie’s Battle of Aerok-goji (Aerok is Korea spelled backwards, and goji is derived from Baengma-goji, or the White Horse Hill, the site of intense fighting during the Korean War). Doing the legwork is the most important step in costume design.

1 2

Nerve-wracking Pressures

It’s not just legwork; Cho often combs through literary and visual archives for reference material. The Spanish-American War battle scene in “Mr. Sunshine,” in which Eugene Choi saves a friend, lasted only about five minutes. But Cho had to expend a tremendous amount of effort to properly outfit the troops. She watched old Spanish films and documentaries, but being in black and white, they provided no information about

1. The movie “Sympathy for Lady Vengeance” (2005) tells the story of a woman who plots and exacts revenge after wrongly serving 13 years in prison. To convey her complex emotions, Cho created retro costumes to depict the gap between her past and present, and her seeming kindness and burning desire for revenge. 2. A scene from “The Handmaiden” (2016), a movie set in Japanese-occupied Korea of the 1930s. To express the icy, secretive character of the young noble lady, Cho produced 25 extravagant yet restrained costumes. © CJ ENM

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Doing the legwork is the most important step in costume design. the color of the uniforms. After arduous research, she was finally able to find one scene in color and based her designs on it. Sourcing clothes from overseas is not an easy task, either. For the movie “Assassination” (2015), Cho wanted to purchase a sample of the Imperial Japanese Army uniform from Japan. However, the majority of military uniform buffs in Japan are far right-wingers and none of them were willing to directly sell a uniform to her. Eventually, she had to go through a broker. The process of costume design is in itself full of drama. Cho’s credo is rigorous historical research. Yet, that has not made her immune to unwarranted criticism. “The Concubine” (2012) was a movie that garnered attention not only for its direction and the actors’ impressive performances, but also for its costume design. The beautiful, elaborate hanbok (traditional Korean dress) donned by the royal concubines were the result of exhaustively poring over dissertations and scouring museum collections. Despite the effort, many viewers mistakenly thought “the style of hanbok is not from the time period,” some even claiming that there were hints of Japanese style. Fortunately, hanbok designers acknowledged Cho’s work, saying, “If you want to see what the traditional costumes from mid-Joseon were like, watch ‘The Concubine.’” “What I found regrettable while studying hanbok was that we know even less about the history of our traditional dress than Western clothing,” said Cho. “We only have a vague understanding of it. During the 500-year Joseon Dynasty, hanbok fashion must have undergone many changes.” She wants to earnestly ask hanbok designers to become more involved in costume design for historical dramas, doling out professional advice. The public tends to learn more about hanbok from popular media, such as movies and TV dramas, than from books or lectures. Therefore, Cho stresses that in order 1

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to promote the value of hanbok and ensure that they are reproduced faithfully, experts need to actively utilize the media.

Reading Poetry

Throughout the interview, I noticed something unusual. Unlike most fashion designers who tend to mix in English fashion terms, Cho eschewed them. Cho, who studied Oriental painting and stage design at the Korea National University of Arts, revealed that she was an avid reader. “As a child, I liked being alone and didn’t have many friends,” she said. “So naturally, I spent my time reading a lot of books. I was the third child among four daughters and a son, and my mother supported pretty much everything I wanted to do. I began going to an atelier and soon drawing became my pastime. Actually, I don’t know much about fashion. I never even formally learned how to make clothing patterns.” It came as a big surprise to hear that a highly-acclaimed costume designer had no formal education in fashion design. But Cho said she is often surprised by something entirely different. “I’m dumbfounded when I hear students aspiring to become costume designers say that they have never fully read a screenplay. Except for maybe one in a hundred, students do not read scripts. When I tell them to think of a design concept, the first thing they do is an Internet search. So I advise these students to read poetry. I’m a fast reader, but with poetry, I tend to go back and read the lines again. Many times I’ve produced drawings with poetry. It’s fun to dissect and rearrange them.” Cho is also skilled in balancing the needs of a production and the actors. When she dresses actors in a period piece, she advises them on how to carry themselves and explains why. Not only should the costumes embody the spirit of the times, but first and foremost, the actors must be comfortable in them. The costumes should make the actors shine. Rather than focus solely on historical accuracy of costumes and imposing it on actors, Cho believes her role is to create costumes that help them fully immerse themselves in the depicted time period.

1. This is one of the costumes of Kudo Hina, a leading character in the recent hit TV series “Mr. Sunshine.” Cho Sang-kyung designed her costumes in ways to express her fashion sense as a rich widow who owns a top hotel in Seoul in the early 20th century. 2. Go Ae-sin, the female protagonist in “Mr. Sunshine,” is a noble woman who secretly learns to shoot and participates in militia activities to protect Joseon from foreign aggression. Her attire expresses her social status. 3. The male protagonist Eugene Choi in “Mr. Sunshine” is a U.S. Marine Corps officer serving at the American Legation in Seoul in the early 20th century. His uniforms were custom-made in the United States to achieve historical accuracy.

There are actors who are willing to listen and earnestly ask questions. For example, Han Suk-kyu, who has played the role of king many times, always asks questions about the king’s clothing as if it were the first time; and Lee Byung-hun, who approaches his role with a sincere dedication, makes people willingly give advice. For the movie “The Handmaiden” (2016), Cho had to design a constricting dress for Kim Min-hee so that the actress would conduct herself with grace and restraint in her starring role as Lady Hideko. And even though it would not be caught on camera, Cho made an undergarment designed to help accent Kim’s posture and poise.

Living to the Fullest

When asked how fun and exciting it must be to work with top-tier actors and directors, she said with a smile, “Every night I go to sleep thinking to myself, ‘There may not be a tomorrow.’ So I reflect on the day and ask, ‘Would that be okay?’ It’s become a habit.” “Do you think me odd?” her expression seemed to ask as she fixed her gaze on me. I said to myself, “Not at all. You’re living each day to the fullest. You must have no regrets about your life. Seems like your life won’t have a sad ending.”

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GUARDIAN OF HERITAGE

Forty Years Walking the Tightrope With a small folding fan in his hand as the only prop for balance, Kwon Won-tae jumps, runs and talks on a nylon rope as thin as 3 cm, entertaining the spectators with his acrobatic feats and jokes. He considers traditional Korean tightrope walking to be not just a circus stunt but a performing art that involves interaction with the audience. Kang Shin-jae Freelance Writer Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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During a performance at Deoksu Palace in Seoul in late September, the master tightrope walker Kwon Won-tae presents geojung dolgi, the skill of jumping on the rope, turning 180 degrees in the air, and coming down again and sitting on the rope.

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oaxing him into talking about his art wasn’t easy. The tightrope walker of 40 years seemed to find some of my questions irrelevant, brushing them off and offering obscure answers with a rising tone at the end. Trying to speak the same language as the fastidious talker was itself like walking a tightrope. “Imagine you’re climbing an icy hill. You’d be extremely cautious not to slip and tumble down the slippery slope, wouldn’t you? That’s why tightrope walkers used to be called eoreumsani [“icy hill climber”],” Kwon Won-tae said.

Like Icy Hill Climbing

Despite the precariousness evoked by the word, Kwon strides and swaggers on the eight- to nine-meter rope suspended three meters above the ground. He walks and runs on the rope, sometimes straddling it, soaring up to turn in the air before sitting down on the rope again. The rope is the tightrope walker’s stage, and throughout his performance, using no protective device whatsoever, he thrills the audience with dazzling feats. “I perform for 30 or 40 minutes at a time. Traditional Korean tightrope walking is not suited for a long show lasting over an hour because a single performer has to engage the audience with banter and jokes as well. So, I’d say this is about the right amount of time,” Kwon said. Tightrope walking, or jultagi, was part of Namsadang Nori, a popular folk show presented by all-male troupes of itinerant entertainers in pre-modern Korea. Nowadays, however, it is often performed separately at local festivals throughout the country. While circus performances of other countries focus on the visual spectacle of acrobatic feats on high wires, the Namsadang performer is a jester, combining tightrope techniques with humorous story-telling. This feature comes from the fact that the Korean version began as a small-scale performance providing diversion for common people leading hard-working lives, who had few sources of entertainment. “Basically, I use the tightrope techniques and jokes as they have been handed down from the past, but I vary the act according to the locality, current social issues and audience responses,” Kwon said. “The number of techniques? That’s not important because you can always improvise on the spot.”

The Stage

A thin rope in the air is Kwon’s whole stage and the sole challenge he needs to conquer. A series of questions occurred to me. What kind of rope does he use? How is it different from the wires used in a circus? How did it feel to walk on the 50-meter rope when he covered the length in the record time of 19.33 seconds at the tightrope world records event held in 2004 in Tampa Bay, Florida? And what about the one-kilometer rope

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hung across the Han River in 2007, which he covered in 17 minutes and 6 seconds, competing with famous tightrope walkers from all over the world? “Those events were held on metal wires, which are strong, taut and steady,” Kwon said. “A typical wire is about three centimeters thick with a tensile strength of 35 tons, which means it won’t break until the maximum load of 35 tons is applied. Performers take advantage of that strength. On the contrary, the Korean version is a soft nylon rope, which is unique in that it is flexible and bouncy. It is harder for the performer to maintain balance. The feeling of walking on a metal wire and on a nylon rope can be compared respectively to jumping on hard ground and on sand so soft that your feet sink into it.” Not all the nylon ropes have the same tension and so the performer chooses the right level according to his preference. Asked if he sometimes used ropes with different tensions, Kwon furrowed his brows and rubbed his face with his hands. “The rope is a delicate thing,” he said finally. “There’s human life on the line. So, we’re cautious about changing ropes.”

Since Age Nine

I watched a video clip of his performance again. This time, I started to take notice not only of the performer’s movements but of the curves created by the shaking rope. Such was the movement of a man freed from the ground, and of a rope supporting his weight. Walking on the rope, he would unfold his fan and draw small curves in the air. The spectators might look at the fan as an item adding grace to his movements, but Kwon used it to maintain his balance by controlling wind resistance. Moving in the air with the single rope as his only foothold, the performer must overcome the wind with the fan as his only tool. “Try and wave a fan to blow the wind, and you’ll feel the weight. You use the weight to control your balance. But that’s not all. If you hold your fan against a strong wind, it’ll act like a parachute,” he said. “How to keep balance — it’s not something you can explain with words.” What would be the most difficult tightrope skill? What is the technique that presents the greatest challenge for any performer? Pondering these questions, he rubbed his face with both hands again. “Training for tightrope walking is like growing up. As your body grows and the brain matures, your skills also improve without your knowing,” he answered. “You can’t just simply say that you’ve gone beyond a certain level, or that you’ve mastered a certain skill. Rather, your skills are gradually perfected and stabilized over time as you continue to perform. That’s how it works.” As the questions and answers continued, Kwon’s art

seemed less like a physical stunt, but rather something that reflected his life and mind. His parents, who were itinerant performers themselves, had him join the troupe when he was nine years old. He simply accepted the path in life laid out for him. Since childhood, his life has been inseparable from his art, and as he grew up as a person, he also matured as a performer. His life was one long learning process in which living and practicing was one and the same. How does he feel when he recalls a lifetime spent on the tightrope? Could the memory be compartmentalized based on a time scale? No sooner had the questions been uttered than Kwon showed resistance to the idea that any ability could be measured by numbers. “If I have to speak in those terms… Well, I would say that I was full of spirit in about the tenth year of training. Fearless, but with no style at all. I was busy following the repetitive training regimen,” he recalled. “When about 20 years had passed, I was able to find my own style and adjust my performance to my physical condition. After that, it was natural to get on the rope and decide on the spot which techniques I would present depending on my condition that day. Although I have 40 years of experience, my skills aren’t perfect yet. Even now, when the weather is bad, both the rope and my body feel heavy. There’s nothing I can do about that. In this sense, tightrope walking seems like a kind of extreme sport with no predetermined routine, flowing dynamically to cope with changing conditions.” Kwon, who had been rather reserved in his responses, became impassioned when it came to the matter of height. The question was quite simple; it was intended to confirm the height of the rope used in his performance — three meters. “It doesn’t matter how high the rope is installed. There’s a tremendous difference between a three-meter-high structure and a three-meter-high tightrope. The higher the rope is placed, the greater the risk and the sensation of fear. There’s no need to take a risk by raising it higher,” he said, raising his voice. “The Korean tradition is not a hire-wire stunt performed over a pre-

A tightrope walker of over 40 years, Kwon says, “Traditional Korean tightrope walking is not just an acrobatic feat but a performing art that involves interaction with the audience with banter and jokes.”

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cipitous valley, but more like little tricks played on the rope, the performer making eye contact and conversing with the spectators.” One doesn’t forget how to use chopsticks after a few days of not using them, and the same is true of the rope for tightrope performers, he explained. Nowadays, he usually performs without rehearsing in case he injures himself while practicing. He has suffered accidents from time to time, but he tries not to dwell on them because fear comes in different forms and degrees every time he stands on the rope. In the end, rising above that fear is a major part of his art. It must take a lot of mind training, I asked, but his reply was an unexpected one: “I don’t give it too much thought. I just tell myself, ‘This is my job, it involves danger,’ and so I’ll be cautious. And I try to be mindful of things around me. I don’t kill living creatures, especially winged animals, which I don’t harm or eat at all. For I’m also an aerial being.”

Life is a Tightrope

As fear comes and goes as it pleases, does he mean that his 40 years of experience is not sufficient to control it? In the face of this uncontrollable feeling, he just keeps a distance, taking somewhat symbolic measures to protect himself from misfortune. However, he does not allow any ambiguity or incompleteness in what is controllable. “Of course, I install the rope myself. Erecting the poles, I always make sure that the ground is hard enough to sustain the load. I figure out the right amount of tension, when tying the ends of the rope to the poles on either side. If the rope is not tied properly, say, if it is too stiff and taut, the impact delivered to my body is enormous. I’m the only one who knows the tension that suits me, so I adjust the rope with my own hands,” he said. A performer who considers the physics of load distribution. Sure enough, Kwon said he would have worked in engineering if he could have chosen another occupation. He especially liked handling machinery and could do simple repairs using parts of his own making; his life might have been more prosperous had he worked in that field. But asked if this alternative life was an unfulfilled dream, he brusquely answered that he’d never dreamed of it. “This is a wonderful job if you don’t have to worry about making a living,” he said. “I’ve traveled overseas presenting

Kwon performs on the lawn in front of the National Museum of Korean Contemporary History in Gwanghwamun, central Seoul. The fan in his hand is the only tool he uses to control wind resistance and maintain balance on the rope.

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my art, and have been respectfully called ‘Master Kwon.’ I also have my name inscribed in the ‘Guinness Book of World Records’ for performing geojung dolgi [jumping up from the sitting position and turning 180 degrees in the air before sitting on the rope again] 12 times in 30 seconds. Isn’t this enough to make a happy life?” That’s not all. He was awarded the title of “Master” in Namsadang Nori, which is an Important Intangible Cultural Property of Korea, and on the UNESCO Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. For Kwon, life is a tightrope (jul): “What do you hold on to when you are born into the world? Yes, the umbilical cord (taet-

“Walking on the tightrope of life, you have to walk straight not to go astray, maintaining your balance even when the wind makes you sway.”

jul). A newborn baby starts life wrapped in swaddling tied with strings (jul). What else? Sometimes you have to pull strings (yeon-jul) to solve problems. Walking on the tightrope of life, you have to walk straight not to go astray, maintaining your balance even when the wind makes you sway. And where do you finally go at the end? You will be wrapped in hemp threads (sam-jul) and burned to ashes. Life starts and ends with all sorts of ropes.” Finally he smiled, asking what life would be like without ropes. Where is he standing now on his tightrope of life? How nimbly and joyfully has he been walking and jumping on the rope? Fodder for thought offered by the tightrope walker.

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ART REVIEW

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Yun Hyong-keun Retrospective

Abstract Landscape of Silence and the Sublime The Yun Hyong-keun retrospective runs August 4 through December 16 at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art (MMCA) in Seoul. Yun Hyong-keun (1928–2007) was a master of dansaekhwa, or Korean monochrome painting. The exhibition features many of his famous works that translate the aesthetics and style of Korean traditional art into a contemporary vocabulary, as well as materials that reveal his unknown stories. Moon So-young Culture Editor, Korea JoongAng Daily

“Burnt Umber.” 1980. Oil on linen, 181.6 × 228.3 cm. Yun Hyong-keun painted this monochromatic work after hearing about the democratic uprising in Gwangju on May 18, 1980. It represents “people resisting tyranny, leaning against one another, bleeding and falling on the street.” The painting is shown to the public for the first time in this exhibition. © National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art

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remember going to the art museum with my parents when I was little. The ambiguous abstract paintings using only one or two achromatic colors were the least interesting. I peeked at the tags, hoping the titles might provide some clues, but I was usually disappointed, and sometimes enraged to find that they read “Untitled” or “Painting No. X.” It was much later that I learned they belonged to a modern Korean art movement, namely the monochrome movement that has garnered global recognition over the past few years. The only painting that I liked back then was one of Yun Hyong-keun’s “Umber-Blue” series. It resembled a black silhouette of columns standing tall against a faint light, either facing westward toward dusk or eastward toward dawn. Strangely, it looked like an ink landscape painting and a Western abstract painting at the same time. The deep-gray columns seemed to harbor many untold stories. The void, full of either the last light or the first light of

day, seemed to transcend the columns and extend toward infinity and eternity. Looking at the painting, I was awed and felt my heart grow bigger. Looking back, that feeling may have been “the sublime” mentioned by British philosopher Edmund Burke: “Infinity has a tendency to fill the mind with that sort of delightful horror, which is the most genuine effect and truest test of the sublime.”

The Color of Ink

The Yun Hyong-keun retrospective at the MMCA brought back memories of that time. I learned some new facts from the curator Kim In-hye, who planned the exhibition. For example, the background colors of dusk and dawn are the original colors of the canvas not covered with primer. The artist considered them to be perfect colors as they were. From 1973, Yun started using only the color of traditional Korean black ink, or meok, produced by mixing umber and

This photo was taken at Yun Hyong-keun’s atelier in Sinchon in 1974, the year his teacher and father-in-law Kim Whanki died. His new work “Umber-Blue” (left) and Kim’s “Where, in What Form, Shall We Meet Again?” hang on the wall side by side.

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blue, because he wanted to express the sky and the earth with umber as the color of the earth and blue the color of the sky. I also found out that the spread-and-diffuse look resembling ink and wash painting was the result of diluting umber-blue pigment with turpentine and linseed oil. In a diary entry for January 1977, Yun wrote, “The basic premise of my painting is the gate of heaven and earth. Blue is the color of heaven, while umber is the color of the earth. Thus, I call them ‘heaven and earth,’ with the gate serving as the composition.” Since heaven and earth are opening through the gate, is this the moment the world was created? It is not that heaven and earth are being divided and opening separately; they are mixed together and separating into two. The light comes through, which has a peculiar effect. (I always believe that the background is not just a void but light.) Art historian Kim Hyeon-suk said that the ink color Yun used was the manifestation of hyeon, a character representing the cosmos in ancient East Asian philosophy. Hyeon means deep, big and distant, and refers to black containing red.

Rising Above the Teacher

There are other reasons Yun switched to using only umberblue. He was the student and son-in-law of the famous artist Kim Whanki, whom he respected all his life. But he tried to escape Kim’s influence and create his own art world. Kim was a first-generation Korean abstract painter, inspired by Western abstract art, Korean literati painting and traditional craftwork. He used East Asian motifs such as mountains, clouds, the moon, the “moon jar” and plum blossoms in his half-figurative, half-abstract paintings. After settling in New York in 1963, he turned completely abstract and produced full-canvas dot paintings which resembled star-studded galaxies. Yun’s earlier works certainly show traces of Kim’s influence, especially the drawings using Kim’s hallmark blue. In October 1974, Yun took a highly meaningful photograph. He hung his new work, “Umber-Blue,” next to Kim’s well-known “Where, in What Form, Shall We Meet Again?” and took up a resolute pose standing in the middle. Curator Kim In-hye said the photo was Yun’s “ambitious documentary, declaring both his start and departure from Kim.” In explaining his “Umber-Blue” series, Yun wrote in his diary in 1977, “I paint a single wail, with no small talk, going down the two sides of the canvas like thick pillars.” He described Kim’s paintings as “much small talk, as if floating up in the air,” despite his respect for the artist. Very astute and articulate, indeed. Although both men’s paintings are cosmic, Kim’s blue full-canvas dot paintings invoke poetry and images of a harmonious cosmos, whereas

Many people are overwhelmed in front of Rothko’s paintings and shed tears. Likewise, Yun’s works, which are both abstract and landscapes and a source of agony and joy, have guided my spirit toward shapeless infinity.

Yun’s paintings are stern, reminding us of primordial chaos in which heaven and earth are intermingled. Color-wise, Kim’s works rise to the sky and float in midair, whereas Yun’s are always rooted to the ground. In the artist’s note for his solo exhibition at Gallery Ueda in Tokyo in 1990, Yun wrote, “Since everything on earth ultimately returns to earth, everything is just a matter of time. When I remember that this also applies to me and my paintings, it all seems so trifling.”

Political Persecution

That Yun’s feet were always tied to the ground has to do with his personal history. The black color in his paintings is not only a mixture of the colors of heaven and earth. It is the color of a burnt tree rooted to the earth and the color of burnt hearts belonging to the people whose feet were never able to leave the ground to touch the skies because the absurdities on earth were tying them down. A July 1990 entry in Yun’s diary reads, “I saw the color of a rafter that had burned down. It was much blacker than burnt grass and trees. Perhaps a person’s burnt heart would be the color of that burnt rafter.” In 1950, during the Korean War, Yun was suspected of being a communist and almost executed. Several incarcerations on political charges followed his near escape from death. The last arrest was a turning point for his art. In 1973, he had been teaching for 10 years at Sookmyung Girls’ High School when he was detained for openly complaining about the school granting admission to an unqualified student. The girl’s father happened to be rich, providing money to the head of the Central Intelligence Agency. Yun was accused of violating the anti-communist law, and the charge brought against him was having a hat like the one Lenin wore. Yun liked the hat he saw in a picture Kim Whanki had sent from New York and so he made one like it on a sewing machine. Little did he dream that

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“Umber-Blue.” 1976–1977. Oil on cotton, 162.3 × 130.6 cm. Yun Hyong-keun created this painting after he quit teaching and dedicated himself to art. At the time, Yun mostly worked on the theme “Gate of Heaven and Earth.”

the hat would make him a “commie.” He was released a month later but only after signing his resignation letter. “My paintings took a sudden turn in 1973 when I was released from Seodaemun Prison. Before that I had used colors, but from then on I took a dislike to colors and anything fancy. So my paintings became dark. I spat out vitriol and venom,” said Yun in an interview much later. The message of Yun’s “Umber-Blue” series would be lost on viewers ignorant of his personal history. His paintings are full of screams, yet silent — “a single wail with no small talk.” The retrospective includes another very special work related to his personal history — “Burnt Umber,” painted in June 1980. The brushstrokes in the “Umber-Blue” and “Umber”

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series are always vertical, close to rectangles. In this painting, however, the wide, dark brushstrokes are tilted, almost stumbling over one another, with many thin threads of oil paint rolling down from the wide strokes. They resemble people falling in the street. Yun painted this upon hearing about the massacre in the democratic uprising in Gwangju in May 1980. He was furious at the repetition of undemocratic political persecution such as he had experienced himself. The monochrome artists of the 1970s and 1980s were criticized for their disinterest in contemporary political and social issues, but from this accusation Yun is definitely exempt. The MMCA purchased “Burnt Umber” from Yun’s family last year and it is being shown to the public for the first time.

“Drawing.” 1972. Oil on paper, 49 × 33 cm. One of Yun Hyong-keun’s early drawings in which he experimented with ink dilution and spread on paper. He used bright colors up to this point, which disappeared afterwards.

It is not in all Yun’s work that black spits anger and venom. “The tree withstands the harsh cold of wind, rain, frost and snow; maintains life; maintains its position; and remains silent,” Yun wrote in his diary. He witnessed and mentioned several times how the tree dies and returns to the earth. His umber-blue black, a color that resembles the fallen tree, is both silence and resistance and also life and death. Borrowing the words of art critic Yi Il, they are a “pristine existence whose shape cannot be defined.”

Toward Shapeless Infinity

Another critic, Oh Gwang-su, called Yun’s paintings “abstract landscapes,” saying that “the landscapes are as simple and rich

as can be” and present “nature that is not painted but nature that has formed and come into being on its own.” This is in line with the way U.S. art historian Robert Rosenblum said Mark Rothko’s color field paintings transport the viewers to a sublime landscape, as do the 19th century German romantic landscapes painted by Caspar David Friedrich. However, Rothko did not reproduce scenes from nature like Friedrich; his color fields have become the sublime landscape that guides the viewers’ minds toward shapeless infinity. Many people are overwhelmed in front of Rothko’s paintings and shed tears. Likewise, Yun’s works, which are both abstract and landscapes and a source of agony and joy, have guided my spirit toward shapeless infinity.

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IN LOVE WITH KOREA

Balancing and Sharing

Threefold Success This American is better versed in two Korean traditions — literature and liquors — than many Koreans. One can become an expert in a foreign country’s culture without necessarily loving it. With John Frankl, that does not seem to be the case. Otherwise, he would not bemoan Korea’s “Americanization” amid his earnest efforts to preserve and develop its traditions. Choi Sung-jin Executive Editor, Korea Biomedical Review Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

ince ancient times, Koreans have believed that both literary and martial arts proficiency is needed to become a complete person. Some people don’t seem to be content with these two requisites and add another: taste. John Frankl appears to meet all three requirements. Frankl is a professor with a decade’s experience of teaching Korean literature at Yonsei University’s Underwood International College. That’s not all. Look for him in an Internet search engine and you will see his name affiliated with dozens of Brazilian jiu-jitsu (BJJ) academies in Korea; he is well-known in the martial arts community. As for taste, there is alcohol. Koreans are famous — or infamous — consumers. However, Frankl has few peers in his love and knowledge about their traditional wines. He even receives offers to produce and sell alcoholic beverages under his own name brand. How does he immerse himself in three completely different realms without being a nerd, a fighter, or a drunkard? Balance and moderation seem to be the keywords. Frankl is familiar with the saying, “Jack of all trades but

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master of none,” but if it is used to describe him, he would be nonplussed. “I don’t like to be a gold medalist in one event but a bronze medalist in three,” he says. More specifically, a pair of threes. Frankl wants to do well as a professor, husband and father, as well as a man of letters, athlete and brewer. “To become the best in one thing, you have to give up too many others,” he says.

Juggling Three Balls

Take Brazilian jiu-jitsu as an example. In 1999, Frankl all but introduced the sport — a derivative of Japanese judo — to Korea. His first black belt students have since opened BJJ academies, and their students, in turn, have earned black belts and launched their own academies. The academies use Frankl’s name to highlight their link to him, but Frankl is emphatic about not being involved in their operations or accepting money from them. And he shows no interest in creating his own network of BJJ academies. He merely practices at two BJJ gyms near his workplace, not bent on competing for any titles either. Frankl believes BJJ is the best martial art for health, supe-

Professor John Frankl checks crocks containing his self-made liquors. He enjoys the cumbersome process of homebrewing traditional Korean wine and the unique taste of the results.

rior to karate, Muay Thai and taekwondo, all of which he once practiced. “These stand-up martial arts mainly using punching and kicking leave injuries not just to defenders but attackers,” he says. “In ground-based BJJ, in contrast, you can always express an intention to surrender by tabbing your opponent, suffering no injury.” Had jiu-jitsu been a little less safe, he would not have allowed his 11th-grade daughter to learn it. It seems engaging in contrasting careers as an academic-cum-athlete could undermine the completion of either, or both. Frankl views it differently: “To me, it is all about balance — balancing the mental and the physical. I see the two as reinforcing rather than detracting each other.” The balancing act does not leave him time to turn BJJ into his own business, nor is he interested in doing so.

Korean Wines and Liquors

Frankl’s motto of balance and moderation obviously applies, too, when he concocts his own alcoholic beverages. In 2010, he began to distill liquor at his home. Wanting to create tastier sul (alcoholic beverages), Frankl enrolled in elementary to

advanced courses at the Korea Homebrewing Research Institute, among other similar institutions. “Once you begin to make your own liquor, you can hardly drink those sold in the market,” he says. “I can hardly understand why Koreans, who have such a wonderful tradition of excellent wines and liquors, remain content with the cheap distilled spirit, soju, which tastes so boring and monotonous.” For Frankl, raw material determines over 90 percent of the taste of home-distilled soju, and time takes care of the rest. “If you have well-fermented nuruk (malt, or fermentation starter) and quality rice, the taste of liquor is almost assured,” he says. “Put steamed rice, malt and water into a jar and let them ferment at room temperature for about 10 days or so, and you get a drink that does not exist anywhere in the world. Add seasonal flavors such as pine pollen or mugwort — it is the icing on the cake.” Well-fermented wine is filtered to produce clear rice wine called cheongju, while the unfiltered, milky-colored wine is takju, also known as makgeolli. Heated cheongju yields soju. Alcohol proof is controlled through the heating temperature,

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raising it up to 80 proof (40 Korean degrees) or even higher. “Distill well-refined cheongju, and you can get about a quarter of it as soju,” Frankl says. “Traditionally distilled Korean soju is high-quality liquor that can be produced only by investing a considerable amount of time and money” This interviewer tasted two kinds of 80-proof soju distilled by Frankl. Like other hard liquors, including Chinese kaoliang wine, the initial taste was bitter, but the aftertaste was clean, peculiar to sweet rice. The uncomfortable aftertaste that often flows back into one’s throat when drinking strong liquor was absent, too. “Even when you drink expensive whiskey, you have to suppress the feeling that travels up the throat,” Frankl says. “Traditional Korean soju, despite its high proof, flows down to the stomach smoothly. Korean soju made from good ingredients does not give you a hangover, either, no matter how much you consume.” Frankl claims that he can drink a night away without getting drunk if three conditions are present — good wine, good people and good atmosphere. The 51-year-old professor says he does not tolerate violent behavior caused by drunkenness. “Koreans seem to be tolerant of drunken people and their mistakes, saying ‘it is all because of sul,’” he says. “I disagree because alcohol itself is not to blame. The problem is with the people who drink it.” Regarding the Korean drinking culture, Frankl has noticed significant changes. “These days, Koreans drink less than

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before, with less time spent drinking and the atmosphere much quieter. As a drinker and brewer, I should find these changes disappointing, though,” he says with a chuckle. Frankl notes that at first some Koreans seemed to consider him weird, a foreigner distilling native Korean liquors. Now, however, people ask him to share his products and know-how. Some foreign friends, including a Scotsman from the homeland of whiskey, are also deeply attracted to Korean soju and how it is made. “The biggest advantage of Korean wine is that you can make it from easily acquired ingredients in a relatively short time,” Frankl says. Stressing that Korean alcoholic drinks can be better than kaoliang or sake, he says, “What Koreans need is to have pride in their products, accumulate traditions and clothe them with stories.” Frankl points out that many Koreans are ready to spend hundreds of thousands of won for a bottle of Scotch whiskey or a million won for French wine but reluctant to pay more than a few thousand won for soju or makgeolli. Korean wines and liquors, he stresses, should not necessarily be cheap and Koreans ought to learn from Chinese people, who make and sell very expensive kaoliang liquor. “Some graduates of the homebrewing institute operate small-scale breweries and distilleries, diversifying Korean soju and makgeolli. The differentiation process has begun although popularization will take more time,” Frankl says. “The era of cheap, weak and tasteless wines and liquors, such

Engaging in contrasting careers as an academic-cum-athlete could undermine the completion of either, or both. Frankl views it differently.

1. Professor Frankl, who introduced Brazilian jiu-jitsu to Korea in 1999, gives a demonstration in a studio named after him. He describes being both a scholar and athlete as a balancing act of the mind and body.

as soju and makgeolli that you find at supermarkets and convenience stores, should fade away to make room for vintage soju, cheongju and dongdongju (also synonymous to takju, but with a few rice grains floating).” Frankl sometimes receives overtures to launch liquors under his name. “I am ambivalent toward the proposal,” he says. “If I begin to make liquor as a business, I may not be able to enjoy it as a hobby any longer. On the other hand, I also find myself dreaming of putting my products on the shelves of large stores.” If anything, however, Frankl feels the joy of crafting, not selling, is more important.

Diversity over Uniformity

John Mark Frankl was born in Los Angeles but mostly grew up in Santa Cruz, California. “There were no Korean residents or students around my town in my high school days. Nor was there a Christian missionary who had served in Korea,” he says. “Somehow, I picked Korean as a second foreign language at university and studied it very hard, as it was one of the pass-orfail subjects to graduate.” He first came to Korea in 1989 as an exchange student at Yonsei University and continued studying Korean. It was then that he developed his interest in modern and contemporary Korean literature. Frankl favors novelists who were active in the 1920s and ‘30s, such as Chae Man-shik, Yeom Sang-seop and Hyeon Jin-geon. They carried the literary banners of realism and naturalism, but Frankl’s preference is based on specif-

2. Professor Frankl teaches Korean literature at the Underwood International College at Yonsei University. He grew up in Santa Cruz, California and visited Korea for the first time in 1989 as an exchange student at the same school.

ic writers and their works, not literary genres. His favorite is Yi Sang. He likes Yi’s essays, but not his poems and novels, finding them “too esoteric” to understand. Having lived in Korea for nearly 15 years, Frankl admits that of course he loves the country. “As you know, however, there can be no love with 100 percent purity,” he says. “If you love Korea with 95 percent of positive feelings, the other 5 percent of negative aspects can appear to stand out.” As for the reasons for his 95 percent of good feelings, Frankl explains that he finds Koreans confident and open-minded and Korea a friendly and convenient country for expats. Regarding the negative 5 percent, Frankl cites uniformity or diminished individuality. “Whenever I visit Sinchon or Apgujeong, I can find little difference from New York or Tokyo. Koreans and their cities are losing their appeals, or unique flavors,” he says. “Yes, the world is rapidly being globalized, but I am afraid Korea has become too Americanized.” Asked what he thinks about the national character of the Korean people, Frankl says he does not believe in the term “national trait,” and Korean teachers should not try to inject mythical terms such as “one nation” or “pure bloodline” into their students. Instead, he goes on, Koreans need to seek diversity among themselves and recognize and respect the differences of foreigners — here and abroad. “What I like most about Korea is the broad diversity of dialects, landscapes and food for a country where you can reach almost anywhere by driving just three hours or so,” he adds.

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ON THE ROAD

Jindo

Crucible of Riches, Bravery and Despair

Tethered to the southwestern tip of Korea, Jindo is the nationâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s third-largest island, surrounded by hundreds of large and small islets. Squatting on the maritime route linking China and Japan, the island has a rich history that encompasses abundant harvests, folk music and rites, political exiles, and epic struggles. Lee Chang-guy Poet and Literary Critic Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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A view of Jindo, or Jin Island, looking down from Mt. Cheomchal. Low mountains shield golden fields against wind from the sea. Haenam County on the Korean peninsula can be seen across the sea.

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n September 9, 1816, Basil Hall (1788–1844), captain of the British warship Lyra, climbed to the highest point on Sangjo Island off the coast of Jindo (or Jin Island) and gazed upon an archipelago of more than 100 islets. “A splendid view,” he exclaimed. Today, Basil Hall Park near the Mt. Dori observatory on Jindo commemorates the British captain’s visit. If you arrive at Sebang Nakjo on the southwest coast and reach the observatory before the evening twilight, you will appreciate Hall’s description. The beauty seen from this spot is renowned, and fortunate visitors will see a myriad of islets dotting the sea like black birds on the water to the left of the setting sun as it dyes the clouds pink. They form the Jodo Gundo (Archipelago of Bird Islands) that once bedazzled Hall and his crew. The ship commander had been part of a British mission to increase trade with China when he received an order to explore the west coast of Joseon, today’s Korea. He recorded the details of his trip in his book “A Voyage of Discovery to the West Coast of Corea and the Great Loo-Choo Island,” published in 1818, which informed the world that Jindo was a place accessible to ships. This was half a century before Korean ports were officially opened to Japan and subsequently Western powers. It is said that Britain later asked the Joseon court to lease Jindo and the Archipelago of Bird Islands. Jindo locals believe that had their island been loaned to Britain it would have become a teeming entrepôt in the same way as Hong Kong. While Jindo missed the possibility of robust trade and commerce, it did become a crucible for foreign and native elements to intertwine and flourish. But Jindo’s location also lent itself to become a famous place of bloodshed and despair. The island’s seat in the top rung of historic episodes belies its position at the bottom tier of the Korean peninsula.

Fertile and Musical

Jindo covers about 360 square kilometers, which is some 60 percent the size of Seoul proper. A trip from Seoul requires almost four hours — 2½ hours on the KTX high-speed rail system traveling at 300 kilometers per hour to Mokpo port in South Jeolla Province, and then another hour or so by car to the island, which is linked to the Korean peninsula by a cablestayed bridge spanning nearly 500 meters. In the Jindo seas, cold southward currents from the East Sea collide with warm currents moving north from equatorial regions. The added influence of the rapid tides around Jindo boosts the speed of the water even more. The swift currents once carried a constant procession of envoys between China and Japan, as well as cargo boats from not only the southern and western coasts of Korea but also Gaegyeong, the Goryeo Dynasty capital in the north, and Hanyang, today’s Seoul.

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Jindo’s local specialties include swimmer crabs, anchovies, abalones and small octopi as well as varied kinds of seaweed such as sea mustard, laver and kelp. All of these products are gifts from the cold and warm currents converging around the island. Wandering around, it’s easy to forget that Jindo is an island. Mountains occupy three sides and very often one comes upon a typical agricultural landscape. In contrast to other islands, the farmlands here are vast and reservoirs can be seen here and there. It is the result of land reclamation many centuries ago, when the locals leveled hills and filled in tidal flats. Fittingly, the island was once named “Okju,” which means a place that is fertile in spite of being an island. Farming has enabled Jindo to become the largest seed supplier in the country but the major crop is rice. Part of the rice harvest once fed the people of Jeju Island, which is four times larger but incapable of producing rice. “One good year of farming will keep you in food for three years” is an old saying on Jindo. In this bucolic environment, song and dance came naturally to the islanders. Even today, wander into any village and you’re likely to hear the women singing the lovely, slow tunes of the yukjabaegi folk song. The merry songs sung in the fields during summer farming season are diverse with a wide range of melodies and rhythms; the songs sung in the rice paddies and dry fields differ. Under the full harvest moon in the eighth lunar month of the year, the village women and children slip into new clothes, hold hands and perform the circle dance ganggang sullae, or sing the endless lines of “Jindo Arirang.” Meanwhile, the men perform nongak, the farmers’ music, dance and rites. All these folk traditions have been inscribed on UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Not surprisingly, the island of only 30,000 residents has its own traditional music company, consisting of separate troupes

Sebang Nakjo is located at the southernmost end of Korea. Creating splendid evening twilight scenery, the 154 islets turn into black silhouettes when the sun sets.

While Jindo missed the possibility of robust trade and commerce, it did become a crucible for foreign and native elements to intertwine and flourish. But Jindoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s location also lent itself to become a famous place of bloodshed and despair.

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performing instrumental music, vocal music and dance. It also has an impressive modern concert hall dedicated to gugak, classical Korean music, which is part of the Jindo National Gugak Center, along with training facilities.

Exiles’ Lasting Input

Amid the plentiful harvests and joyous singing, there are thick strata of sorrow and anguish in Jindo’s history, too. The distance from the capital made the island a perfect place to confine scholar-officials who fell out of favor for political or ideological reasons. To them, Jindo was a faraway place to rot and be forgotten. But the capital’s discards became Jindo’s blessing. As the banished scholar-officials spent three to 20 years in exile on the island, they inevitably mingled with natives, introducing the culture of different regions and transmitting the spirit and value of the times to talented minds. Consequently, Jindo’s culture became far more diversified and enriched than most other areas of Korea. For example, Jindo is recognized today as the center of the Southern School of literati painting and this year, it hosted the first Jeonnam International Sumuk Biennale (sumuk is the Korean word for ink painting; Jeonnam refers to South Jeolla

Province). This can be traced to two Jindo natives, Heo Ryeon (1809–1892) and Heo Baek-ryeon (1891–1977), who rank among Korea’s most eminent Southern School painters. They were taught and supported by exiles who brought with them a deep knowledge and appreciation of art from the capital. In the same context, a culture of homebrewing developed. The drinks include hongju (literally “red liquor”), made by steeping the dried roots of a herb called jicho (purple gromwell) in rice liquor during the distillation process to turn the liquor red, and tea made with the young shoots of tea plants found in the mountains and fields throughout the island.

Military Turning Points

During the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910), the shortest way to Jindo was by boat from the Right Naval Command Base in Haenam to Nokjin Port. However, the strong currents around the island persuaded ordinary people to use a longer one-kilometer route and embark from Byeokpa Port. Over the hill from the port is the site of the old Yongjang Mountain Fortress. This was the headquarters of the Sambyeolcho (Three Elite Units), which opposed the Goryeo government’s decision to submit to the Mongols who invaded in 1231. The units rebelled

Sites to Visit on Jindo 1

Nokjin Beach Park

Seoul

Graveyard for War Dead of the 2 Second Japanese Invasion

3 Yongjang Mountain Fortress

408km Ullim Sanbang (Mountain Studio of Clouds and Forests)

Jindo

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Namdo Garrison Fortress

Sochi Memorial Hall

and retreated to Jindo, where they dreamed of creating “a new Goryeo” and battled the Mongols until the end. Jindo was an ideal location for defense. After arriving in the latter half of 1270, the Sambyeolcho turned Yongjang town’s defensive infrastructure into a fort and began building a proper military fortress around Yongjangsa, the island’s largest Buddhist temple. While using the name of Goryeo, they seated their own king and built an almost exact replica of Manwoldae, the Goryeo royal palace in the capital Gaegyeong (today’s Kaesong in North Korea) as their headquarters. The people of Jindo supported the goals of the Sambyeolcho and lent assistance. They, too, wished to be free of the Mongols, who had exceeded previous invaders in the amount of territory seized. But the resistance did not last long. Less than a year later, Yongjang Mountain Fortress fell under the united Mongol-Goryeo forces, ending the war in 1271. How did Jindo natives feel at the sight of their island home so quickly transformed into a hellish battleground? One spot on the island gives some clues. To this day, the islanders conduct memorial rites on the first full moon day of the year at a shrine dedicated to Bae Jung-son, leader of the Sambyeolcho. At this point, historians like to remind us of an incident in which the

Sambyeolcho burned identification papers indicating an individual’s social class before they headed to Jindo. In the strictly class-based society of Goryeo, they opposed the existing order and dreamed of a new, democratic nation. After defeating the Sambyeolcho, the Mongols took some 10,000 Jindo locals as prisoners of war and established a horse ranch on the island. This lends credibility to the theory that the beloved Jindo dog, an official “national treasure,” is a descendant of a sheep dog brought in by the Mongols and a native breed. Byeokpa Port came under attention again some 300 years later during the second Japanese Invasion (1597–98), known as Jeongyu Jaeran. Admiral Yi Sun-sin, who had been demoted amid fractious political infighting, was reinstated as supreme naval commander to stop a Japanese fleet sent to support the invading troops of Toyotomi Hideyoshi. But he was only able to muster 12 warships as the Korean navy had been decimated

The Namdo Garrison Fortress, or Namdo Jinseong, was erected in the 13th century to defend the coastal region when the Sambyeolcho, the “elite troops” of Goryeo, fought Mongol invaders. During the succeeding Joseon Dynasty, it was used as a naval fort to block Japanese invaders.

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in a series of battles against Japan while he was dismissed and incarcerated. Yi kept hundreds of Japanese warships at bay and then a last stand ensued in the Myeongnyang Strait, or “Screaming Strait,” between the Nokjin and Byeokpa ports. On October 26, 1597, Yi masterfully utilized the fast-moving tides and whirlpools of the strait, which is some 200 meters wide at its narrowest point. The extreme difficulty in navigating the rapid currents neutralized the Japanese fleet’s huge advantage. It lost scores of ships and withdrew in defeat. Yi’s stunning victory is remembered by many as a brilliant display of military strategy that enabled a vastly outnumbered force to prevail. Often overlooked are Jindo natives. Following Yi’s instructions, they lined both sides of the strait and barraged the Japanese with rocks and arrows.

When the admiral left for the west coast to reorganize his forces, the Japanese took cruel revenge on the Jindo locals. Returning to the island 23 days later, Yi found total destruction. In his war diary, “Nanjung Ilgi,” he wrote, “Not a single house was left standing. The whole countryside was silent with no trace of human life.” The consequences for Jindo were horrific but the humiliating defeat of the Japanese in the Myeongnyang Strait reversed the tide of the war and ended seven years of fighting. Today, statues of Yi stand in Nokjin and at Gwanghwamun Square in the heart of Seoul.

Two Graveyards

On the roadside at the foot of the mountain in Dopyeong Village, some way inland from Byeokpa Port, there is a cluster of around 230 graves. The official name is Graveyard for War 1

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Dead of the Second Japanese Invasion. Here lie the Joseon soldiers who died in the Battle of Myeongnyang and the common people who were killed in revenge by the Japanese. Aside from 10, most are the graves of the unknown dead. All of them face north toward the king in the capital. Following the mountain road running toward the sea for some nine kilometers, there is a pretty, low hillside named Waedeoksan. Another 100 graves were once located here — those of Japanese soldiers who fought in the same battle under the command of the warlord Kurushima Michifusa. When the bodies of the Japanese were washed ashore, the villagers retrieved them and buried them on the hillside facing south toward Japan. Because of road construction and land reclama2 tion, many of the graves were damaged and only around 50 remain today. In August 2006, when the news of the graveyard first became known in Japan, the descendants of the dead and a group of university students came to Jindo and visited the site under the guidance of the villagers. A Hiroshima newspaper reported on the visit, calling the graveyard a sacred place and expressing gratitude to the Jindo people. But for the islanders, such compassion was only natural, considering that the traditional Korean view of life and death places importance on reconciliation between the living and the dead. This is also reflected in ssitgim-gut, a shaman funeral rite of Jindo held to resolve the grudges of the dead and cleanse their souls so that they may find peace.

The Living and the Dead

In the context of Western religion, the word ssitgim would be akin to baptism; indeed, the religious theories behind the two ceremonies are not entirely different. However, the “soul cleansing rite” of Jindo changes in name and nature according to the place or cause of death; the procedures and narrative are subject to circumstances. For example, when salvaging the soul of a person who drowned to death, the rite is called “geonjigi (to pick up from the water) ssitgim-gut,” and when

1. Women hurriedly shake croaker from fishing nets at Seomang Harbor. The fish must be quickly removed from the nets and frozen to maintain their freshness. So during croaker season, villagers converge creating a grand spectacle of collective effort. 2. The stone Buddha triad at Yongjang Temple has a 2-meter-high Medicine Buddha at the center. Seated on a lotus pedestal, its lower body is high and large, showing a proportion typical of Goreyo Buddhist images.

appeasing the soul of one who died away from home and is thus a lonely spirit, the rite is called “honmaji (meeting the soul) ssitgim-gut.” Moreover, the rite is distinguished from the shaman funeral rites of other regions for its artistic elements. Thanks to its simple yet alluring “dance for the gods,” narrative conveyed through song, and various shaman implements, the Jindo ssitgim-gut is more than just a religious ceremony. It holds state recognition as an Important Intangible Cultural Property. Lurking in the depths of desire to find reconciliation between the living and the dead are painful memories of the past. The people of Jindo have suffered the fetters of history arising from events such as the Donghak Peasant Movement of 1894–95 and the Korean War of 1950–53, time and again witnessing the unjust massacres of its people. For them, the sinking of the Sewol Ferry in the waters off Jindo in 2014, leading to the death of 250 high-school students and 54 teachers, crew members and others, was all the more heartbreaking and sorrowful. Such it is that all deaths are private and yet public at the same time. On this note, the French anthropologist and ethnologist Claude Lévi-Strauss wrote: “They have been no more successful than other societies in denying the truth that the image a society evolves of the relationship between the living and the dead is, in the final analysis, an attempt, on the level of religious thought, to conceal, embellish or justify the actual relationships which prevail among the living.” (“The Sad Tropics” by Claude Lévi-Strauss, translated by John and Doreen Weightman, Penguin Books, p. 246) Perhaps it is natural that Jindo has been able to retain its special culture of healing.

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TALES OF TWO KOREAS

Alternate Perspective In his latest book, “Pyongyang Time Flows with Seoul Time,” U.S.-based freelance journalist Jin Chun-kyu presents an atypical view of North Korea based on his encounters with hundreds of North Koreans and revealing pictures. Calling himself a “roving correspondent reporting from Pyongyang,” Jin is devoted to the cultural unification of the divided nation. Kim Hak-soon Journalist and Visiting Professor, School of Media and Communication, Korea University Ha Ji-kwon Photographer

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estern media often describe North Korea as “reclusive,” a nod to its rigidly controlled accessibility. The limitation naturally inhibits a thorough understanding of its society. Consequently, outsiders are apt to believe that international sanctions are crippling the North’s economy and heaping hardship on its people. “Pyongyang Time Flows with Seoul Time,” published by Takers in Seoul earlier this year, contradicts this conventional view. Written by Jin Chun-kyu, a U.S.-based freelance journalist, the book unveils an unfamiliar tapestry of today’s Pyongyang, thanks to relaxed restrictions on his visits. Starting in October 2017, Jin visited North Korea four times over the next nine months, staying a total of 40 days. His book, the result of meeting about 250 North Koreans and taking insightful photographs, describes how much the North has changed in recent years. Amid his efforts to unlock relations with Pyongyang, South Korean President Moon Jae-in included the book in his summer vacation reading. Until the recent thaw, chilly cross-border relations blocked South Korean reporters from entering the North. But Jin has a permanent U.S. resident card, placing him in a different category than other South Koreans, and he has built-up trust with the North Korean authorities. His status allowed him to move around relatively freely, meeting North Koreans at the Masikryong Ski Resort and Mt. Myohyang as well as in Wonsan, Nampo and Pyongyang, and photographing moments of their lives.

Cars and Mobile Phones

Jin calls himself a “roving correspondent reporting from Pyongyang” for a reason. In 1988, he formed The Hankyoreh, a left-leaning South Korean newspaper, along with other

journalists who were forced out of mainstream news media by military dictatorships. That year, Jin had a brush with the North when he covered a Military Armistice Commission meeting at the border truce village of Panmunjom. He then visited the North to cover high-level inter-Korean talks in 1992 and the first inter-Korean summit in 2000. At the latter, he photographed President Kim Dae-jung and North Korean leader Kim Jong-il grinning and raising their hands after they signed the June 15 North-South Joint Declaration. Jin emigrated to the United States in 2001. Sixteen years later, he revisited the North and was dumbstruck by the multitude of cars and proliferation of mobile phones that had transpired. Taxis were everywhere, or queued up at hotspots. About 10 taxis always stood in front of Okryugwan, waiting for diners to leave the best restaurant in Pyongyang. Contrary to assumptions that only foreigners and senior officials took taxis, ordinary citizens tapped the taxi swarm. Where police officers’ whistles and hand signals were once enough on quiet streets, traffic lights had now become a necessity to maintain order. Before, such traffic was “unimaginable,” Jin said in an interview. “I heard that more than 6,000 taxis are running around streets in Pyongyang alone and that there are five to six taxi companies there.” One taxi driver said his cohorts mainly had passengers going to neighborhoods that lacked a subway station or bus stop. More and more people used taxis because they were unable to have a car. Even light traffic jams occurred during rush hours. Jin’s next big surprise was to learn that as many as five million North Koreans were now using mobile phones, though information and movement were still controlled. Pyongyang pedestrians having a conversation on a mobile phone or taking a picture with it were no longer a novelty. Another revelation that far exceeded expectations was Internet availability. At Pyongyang International Airport, Jin assumed his connection to a Wi-Fi network was simply a service for global travelers. Later, he discovered unfettered Internet access at his Pyongyang hotel as well. At first, it was hard for him to fathom, guessing that not everyone was allowed to log on. “It was possible for me to find data I wanted immediate-

Changjon Street in western Pyongyang seen from the Juche Tower. The street lined with high-rise apartment buildings was built in 2012.

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“The outside world, including the United States, believes that North Korea will throw its hands up in the air and surrender soon if more economic sanctions are imposed. But it occurred to me, when I took a firsthand look at today’s North Korea, that such a belief is misguided.” ly and exchange emails with my acquaintances in the United States and South Korea anytime,” Jin recalled. His email from Pyongyang to Seoul was met with skepticism; recipients asked, “Is this really an email you sent from the North?” One day Jin waited and waited in vain for a reply to his urgent email to Seoul. He later learned that the recipient doubted that the email was really sent from Pyongyang and feared that he was being watched by somebody. Jin put the finishing touches to “Pyongyang Time Flows with Seoul Time” while in Pyongyang, exchanging emails with the publishing house of his book in Seoul.

Trusted Outsider

Crisscrossing Pyongyang, Jin came upon streets lined with new high-rise buildings that looked fancier than in the past. Changjon Street is so gorgeous that even foreigners call it “Pyong-

hattan,” a portmanteau of Pyongyang and Manhattan, or “Little Dubai.” Mirae (Future) Scientists Street, where many scientists live, was so packed with high-rise apartment buildings and a high-end department store that it looked like a backdrop in a capitalist country. A complex of structures in Ryomyong New Town, a development North Korean leader Kim Jong-un reportedly advocated vigorously, was shown by TV cameramen riding along President Moon’s motorcade during his visit to Pyongyang in September. Jin learned that as many as six pizza parlors occupy the North Korean capital, catering to ordinary citizens, not foreign tourists, and in 2008, the first Italian restaurant opened in Chukjon-dong, Mangyongdae District. When he visited there, Jin found that the spacious 990-square-meter restaurant was packed with customers enjoying pizza or spaghetti. The rarest pictures that Jin took in Pyongyang show the

1. A long taxi queue picks up passengers after a performance at the Pyongyang Grand Theater. More than 6,000 taxis operate in downtown Pyongyang, according to Jin Chun-kyu, a U.S.-based freelance journalist.

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2. Jin Chun-kyu holds his book, “Pyongyang Time Flows with Seoul Time,” a collection of his impressions of North Korea, which he visited four times from October 2017 to July 2018.

insides of ordinary citizens’ apartments. A guide told Jin that he was the first outsider to see the insides of Pyongyang residents’ apartments. He visited Ryomyong Street, which is flanked by year-old high-rise buildings staffed with elevator operators. The buildings’ residents are returnees to the neighborhood, who had to relocate when redevelopment began. Most residents there work nearby. The homes Jin visited were furnished with beds, gas stoves, refrigerators and electric cookers. They resembled middle-income homes in South Korea. Although residents were informed of his visit, Jin did not have the impression that they had installed items that they did not own or decked their homes out purposefully. North Koreans do not measure their apartments by pyeong (3.3 sq. meters) as done in South Korea, but by the number of rooms. Hence, there are apartments with two to four rooms. The number of family members, not social status and position, determines what apartment they occupy. Each family pays a monthly rent of 240 won (about 2,700 South Korean won) for their home on Ryomyong Street. It may not be a realistic price; it seems to be a symbolic rent, Jin said. North Koreans do not have water bills but are charged for electricity to encourage energy saving. During his latest visit, Jin was escorted by a guide but did not experience interference. “I was able to freely talk with Pyongyang citizens. Nobody censored the pictures and videos I took,” he said. The North Korean authorities only asked him to photograph statues of (the nation’s founder) Kim Il-sung and (former leader) Kim Jong-il in full length and not to take pictures of construction workers and elderly people in ragged clothes.

Efforts towards Cultural Unification

Most of the books and pictures about the North published so far are by non-Korean journalists. Not being native Korean speakers, they had to approach the North and its people from the observer’s point of view. Jin, however, was positioned to skirt the linguistic barrier. He wanted to record not only North Koreans’ appearance, but also their emotions and thinking. “The outside world, including the United States, believes that North Korea will throw its hands up in the air and surrender soon if more economic sanctions are imposed. But it occurred to me, when I took a firsthand look at today’s North Korea, that such a belief is misguided,” he said. Jin found Pyongyang residents enjoying diverse lives as consumers, far from simply fulfilling their basic needs as outsiders tend to think. Pyongyang people were leading their daily lives “in a calm way, contrary to widespread fears that North Korea was busy preparing for a war,” even in October 2017, when Pyongyang-Washington antagonism intensified over the

North’s missile tests and continued development of nuclear weapons. With a sense of mission, Jin said that he was determined to “see and report on everything without prejudice” as a “border rider.” Some people accuse him of wrongfully using unique aspects of Pyongyang to paint a revisionist portrait of North Korea. He disagrees. “It’s wise to accept it, as it is, as we accept the difference between Seoul and provincial regions, isn’t it?” While dreaming about becoming a permanent correspondent in Pyongyang, Jin is currently absorbed in creating “Unification TV,” a cable network scheduled to launch in 2019. The content plan includes airing history programs, nature documentaries and food programs that people in the South and the North can enjoy, as well as North Korea-produced programs after obtaining their copyrights. “I believe that both Koreas can play a big role in moving up the cultural unification of the nation by exchanging diverse cultural contents with each other and restoring homogeneity,” said Jin, who is chairing the Unification TV preparatory committee.

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BOOKS

& MORE Charles La Shure

Professor, Department of Korean Language and Literature, Seoul National University

Ryu Tae-hyung

Music Columnist; Consultant, Daewon Cultural Foundation

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A Writer’s Struggle in Critical Times Brought to Light ‘Dust and Other Stories’

By Yi T’aejun, Translated by Janet Poole, 304 pages, $25.00, New York: Columbia University Press [2018]

Yi T’aejun (also spelled Lee Tae-jun) was an important writer in early modern Korea, but his decision to move from Seoul to Pyongyang in 1946 meant that his works would be banned in South Korea until 1988. Despite the lifting of this ban three decades ago, his works remained largely unavailable in English translation. “Dust and Other Stories” at last remedies this with a collection of Yi’s short fiction, primarily from the late colonial period and after liberation in 1945. If there is one theme that stands out in this collection, it is a very personal one: a writer’s struggle to remain true to his art in times of crisis. A number of the stories feature the autobiographical protagonist Hyon, and in these we can read Yi’s expression of his will to survive. It was never easy, of course, to make a living as a writer solely from creatively rewarding work; in “Rainy Season” (1936), Yi paints a picture of his well-known contemporaries being wasted as newspaper or magazine writers and editors. But when one believes that “art comes before everything,” as Hyon insists in “The Frozen River Pae” (1938), life becomes even more difficult. “Before and After Liberation” (1946), as the title indicates, depicts Hyon struggling to remain true to himself as a writer both during the colonial period and after liberation from Japan. When the Japanese authorities pressure him to support their imperial cause with his writing, his silent scream says everything: “I just want to live!” By this, of course, he means that he wants to live for himself, not as a tool to serve the ideologies of others. Bowing to the will of the colonial oppressors is no life at all, and Hyon declares that he would rather give up writing altogether than become a mouthpiece for Japanese propaganda. The long-awaited liberation, though, brings no relief, as he finds himself once again caught between warring factions — the Soviet-backed left and the U.S.backed right. Yi is prophetic when he voices his worries through Hyon that, if the leftists came to dominate the entire country, “the nation could collapse in self-destructive strife.” Two years later, two separate governments would be established on the peninsula, and two years after that the Korean War would break out. “Tiger Grandma,” written in 1949, is clearly an attempt by Yi to toe the party line in North Korea and produce the desired propaganda, but it is also an effective depiction of the North Korean emphasis on education, scientific advancement and the abandoning of superstition. The titular “Dust” (1950) paints a much more complex picture. The grotesque caricatures of the Americans and their South Korean supporters are not surprising, but the protagonist Han is yet another character who desperately attempts to remain neutral in the ideological battle for the soul of the nation. He worries (again, prophetically) that one of the Koreas might leave the other behind, making reconciliation and reunification impossible. In the end, he experiences an awakening and realizes the justness of the communist cause, but his fate at the conclusion of the story leaves more doubt than certainty in the mind of the reader. It seems clear from his writing that Yi never truly bought into the socialist line, and this is no doubt why he disappeared into the mists of history, his fate unknown to this day. In this day and age, when there often seems to be no middle ground between polarized ideas and opinions, the struggles of a writer to preserve art above artifice, and ideals above ideology, somehow seem more relevant than ever.

Australian Garden Designer’s In-depth Guide ‘Korean Gardens: Tradition, Symbolism and Resilience’ By Jill Matthews, 208 pages, $44.50, Seoul: Hollym [2018]

In her latest book, garden designer Jill Matthews takes the reader deep inside peaceful, natural spaces that are often taken for granted. Matthews begins with a discussion of the long and sometimes violent history of gardens in Korea (they were targeted for destruction by Japan throughout history) and then points out the aspects of Korean gardens that distinguish them from other gardening traditions. Perhaps the defining characteristic is harmony: Korean gardens are not a human attempt to force order onto nature. The brief look at the various spiritual traditions of Korea, such as pungsu (known as feng shui in Chinese), shamanism, Buddhism and Confucianism is certainly not enough to do each of these traditions justice, but it does at least lay a foundation for some understanding of Korean gardens. The following chapter on symbolism is particularly enlightening; knowing the deep meaning behind the number

and arrangement of rocks, the types of trees and plants present, or the shapes of ponds and islands will only add to the enjoyment of these gardens. The second and largest part of the book looks at 20 of Korea’s finest gardens, including palace gardens, tomb gardens, Buddhist temple gardens and Confucian literati gardens. Matthews includes a history and detailed description of each garden, supplemented by beautiful color photographs on nearly every page. The final part contains helpful tables and diagrams, including a glossary of Korean gardening terms and a selection of books for further reading, as well as a list of notable gardens and a map showing where to find them. Now armed with a greater knowledge of and appreciation for the tradition of gardening in Korea, the reader will no doubt want to take advantage of these resources and visit as many gardens as possible.

A Major Evolution by Mavericks of Traditional Korean Music ‘Differance’

By Jambinai, Audio CD $13, MP3 $8.91, London: Bella Union [2017]

Jambinai has been a sensation overseas where it is generally classified as a post-metal or post-rock band. The band’s debut full-length album “Differance” (or “Chayeon” in Korean), originally released in 2012, won the prize for best crossover album at the 10th Korean Music Awards in 2013. This is a reissue, the band’s first on vinyl released by an overseas label, following acclaim for its 2016 sophomore album, “A Hermitage,” from the same UK-based record company. “Time of Extinction,” the first track on the album, was performed at the closing ceremony of the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympics. While the six-stringed geomungo struck by a plectrum resounds intermittently, an intensive and heavy electric guitar dominates. Finally, when the guitar stops, the haegeum, another traditional stringed instrument, carries on the plaintive tune that brings the Korean shamanic dance, salpuri, to mind.

“Paramita Pt. 1” is a track that stands out for the beauty of its emptiness. The high screams of the geomungo, janggu (double-headed drum) and electric guitar mix together and resonate like the rhythm of a monk’s wooden temple block. It’s like the deconstruction of an entity before one’s eyes. © The Tell-Tale Heart “Hand of Redemption” appeals especially to heavy metal and hardcore music fans. Like the solo guitar in a hard rock piece, the haegeum ecstatically improvises. This ability to amaze and surprise is the core of Jambinai’s universality and their popularity around the world. Back in 1975, when the late master gayageum player and composer Hwang Byung-ki, who died earlier this year, released his album “Labyrinth” (“Migung”), many were astounded by its originality. Would it be going too far to say “Differance” represents a major evolution in traditional Korean music albums recorded since then? KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 75

AN ORDINARY DAY

Teaching the True Joy of

Taekwondo

Taekwondo, the national sport of Korea, is aimed at cultivating a healthy body and a strong and upright mind. Shim Jae-wan, a 6th dan master who operates his own studio, has been teaching the sport to young generations with a keen sense of responsibility for the last 32 years. Kim Heung-sook Poet Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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Before they begin active training, Shim Jae-wan introduces meditation to his young students. The martial art of taekwondo strengthens the body while cultivating a sound mind to practice restraint.

n May 30 this year, young Taekwondo athletes from South and North Korea staged a demonstration of their skills for Pope Francis during his weekly general audience at Saint Peter’s Square in the Vatican. Afterwards, the athletes unfurled a banner that said, “Peace is more precious than triumph” (La pace è più preziosa del trionfo). The event showed how the goal of taekwondo — finding peace and not fighting — should be achieved by training both body and mind. A combination and development of traditional Korean martial arts, taekwondo spread widely after the Korean War. By the 1970s, it was considered Korea’s national sport, but did not have that status officially until the National Assembly passed an amendment bill to that effect on March 30 this year. Today, taekwondo has a global following that is constantly rising. World Taekwondo, the international body headquartered in Seoul, counts 209 member countries, and the International Olympic Committee recognized taekwondo as an official sport at the 2000 Sydney Olympics. But how the sport is taught differs in Korea and abroad, as do its membership trends. Riding the taekwondo boom of the 1970s, the number of training studios (dojang) soared, but a “kindergartenization” to boost sign-ups and excessive rivalry between the facilities seems to have split taekwondo into two camps, one a “playful sport” for children and the other a specialized sport. “In many foreign countries, people practice taekwondo to stay healthy, but here in Korea, the approach is more centered on technical skills. The number of trainees in the United States is about 10 times that of Korea, and apparently, there is an average of 500 people, and in some cases up to 2,000, signed up at each studio. Abroad it’s quite common for a dad

to learn the sport after work with his family, but in Korea, people work such long hours, so it’s almost impossible for office workers to train with their families.” So said Shim Jae-wan, who runs his own dojang called Yonsei Jeonghun Taekwondo in the Guui neighborhood in eastern Seoul’s Gwangjin District. Even though the number of trainees tends to decrease in Korea, unlike overseas, Shim’s studio, opened in 1986, always overflows with energy.

The Essential Spirit

“Apparently, the average number of trainees signed up at individual studios across the country is 50 to 70, but at my studio, the number hovers around 270 to 280. With some of the classes at the local elementary school, 50 to 70 percent of the pupils are attending my studio,” Shim said. Among the 14,000 or so taekwondo studios across Korea, it is rare to find one with so many trainees. “As taekwondo became a sport activity for children, an increasing number of studios started focusing on getting the children to have fun, playing games like knee wrestling or dodge ball,” Shim said. “Young children find training difficult, so instructors attempt to capture their interest with fun and games. But at studios like that, only about half of the children attend for more than a year. They lose interest when it’s only fun and games.” Shim once considered whether he should also try games-based training. But as a taekwondo master, he felt a sense of responsibility to adhere to the fundamental spirit of martial arts. He staked his success or failure on authentic training. As a result, most children at his studio continue to train for five to six years. They get a taste of the true joy of martial arts, progressing one rank at a time as they train. The basic training structure is the

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same throughout the world. Trainees go through tests to progress through ranks (geup), from 10th to 1st, and then rise through nine levels (dan). However, a dan title is only available to trainees older than 15. Those who qualify for dan but are not 15 years old yet are given a junior title called poom. New trainees will wear a white belt, while a black belt designates someone at the dan levels.

Novel Training Plan

S h i m J a e - wa n , a 6 t h d a n m a s t e r (sabeom), was born in 1962 in a small village in North Chungcheong Province, as the youngest of seven siblings. When he was around seven years old, a taekwondo studio opened in a neighboring village. He was curious, but he did not have money for lessons. When the studio’s director heard about the child’s predicament, he let him train for free. Thanks to such generosity, Shim was able to discover the joy of taekwondo. After finishing middle school, he moved

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to Seoul to attend high school but continued his training. His family’s financial constraints put college out of reach, so he began to look upon taekwondo for his livelihood. As soon as he finished high school, he started to work as an instructor at a studio, and after marrying, he rented a space to open a small studio of his own. Wanting to study more systematically, Shim majored in taekwondo at Yonsei University’s Institute of Continuing Education and became one of its first graduates. Later, he enrolled in courses at the Taekwondo Department of the Graduate School of Physical Education at Kyung Hee University to continue his passion for learning. The coursework not only improved his theoretical foundation but bolstered his planning ability and initiative, which is now on full display at his studio. Typically, about 90 percent of the trainees at most studios are male, but at Shim’s studio, around 40 percent

Students of Taekwondo master Shim demonstrate their high kick skills at Gwanghwamun Square in central Seoul. Shim developed “high kick holidays” to boost the fighting spirit of schoolgirls in particular, and give them positive memories.

are female, thanks to one of his programs that highlights their abilities. In most cases, girls are far better than boys in standing high kicks, where one leg shoots straight up. That inspired Shim to develop what he calls “High Kick Holidays.”

High Kick Holidays

The holiday destinations span from central Seoul to foreign countries, and at every location the trainees do impressive high kicks, using the natural landscape or unique scenery as a backdrop. Shim captures the trainees’ posed kicks and puts their photos or videos on the Internet. The holidays have made him learn

how to produce and edit videos, and he says that “the work of putting the videos on my studio’s blog or YouTube is my greatest happiness.” He went on, “You see, I wanted to make precious memories for the kids of their childhoods. For the female trainees, in particular, I hope that later on, when they have become mothers, they can show the videos I’ve made to their children and find strength in seeing them.” As president of the Korea Taekwondo Tool Training Center, Shim also develops and deploys tool-based techniques. “Tool-assisted training was developed by another master, but it didn’t really reach a wide audience,” said Shim. “I’ve divided it up into a number of stages and I’m integrating it into the training. Until now, taekwondo training has all been personally administered by the instructor, but if you use tools, the trainees can practice certain things by themselves. As one example, in the past, for children who couldn’t fully do the splits, the instructors would push them downward until they could do it. But now, if they keep training consistently with a tool, the kids can get there by themselves. At first, they kick a low domino and knock it over, then gradually taller dominoes until, in the end, they reach their goal.” Shim wakes up at 8:30 every morning and arrives at his studio at around 11 o’clock. After changing into their uniforms, he and the other instructors set up the studio for the day ahead. At around 11:30 a.m., they all have lunch together and he takes care of the education program while the other instructors drive the studio’s two 12-seater minibuses to pick up trainees at their schools. The trainees arrive between 12:30 and 2 p.m., don their uniforms and begin practice. Shim leaves his studio between 10 and 11 p.m., after all trainees have returned home and the studio has been

tidied up, but he still is not entirely finished. “When I get home and shower, then have something to eat and put up the trainees’ photos on the studio blog or YouTube, I usually end up going to bed around 1:30 to 2 a.m. Maybe because I’ve simply gotten used to this routine, I don’t get particularly worn out,” he said. “When I’m feeling a bit exhausted, I rest at home and look at some of the photos of the children practicing their high kicks and I feel fully recharged in no time.” At first glance, it may seem like Shim’s daily life is nothing but taekwondo, but he always finds each day new and special.

One Final Dream

“When I first opened my studio, I had three goals. It was my dream to buy my own home, buy the car I wanted to drive, and set up a studio in a space that I owned. Well, I’ve made all of those dreams come true.” These days, he only has one goal in life: now in his late 50s, he wants to continue guiding children to grow up well with taekwondo until he is 70. But there are many times when reality disappoints his hopes. “Children these days seem to be much weaker emotionally. There are also many mothers who are overprotective,” he said. “And so many children these days are growing up without a brother or sister, and they don’t have any sense of compromise, concern for others, or teamwork. They argue at the slightest provocation. If they’re not hungry they’d rather throw food in the trash than offer it to other people. They’re always given everything, so they don’t know how to share. The children are getting taller and bigger, but they lack stamina, and there has been a real decline in things like bone density and muscular strength.” When he sees children like this, Shim feels distressed, but the way he

Shim always has the demeanor of an affable grandfather, but he will not tolerate any trainee bullying a cohort who is weaker or younger.

sees it, “the worse things get for children today the more important taekwondo is for their lives.” The first activity for new trainees is to learn proper formal speech and meditation — basic exercises in character building. Shim always has the demeanor of an affable grandfather, but he will not tolerate any trainee bullying a cohort who is weaker or younger.

Train Both Body and Mind

“If exercise only makes the body strong, it’s completely useless. With taekwondo, while strengthening the body, it’s just as much about cultivating the mindfulness to control that strength. If you learn how to use your body, you have to be even more careful about your behavior, and if you have made yourself stronger than other people, you have to help them, not cause them harm.” One of his punishments for bullying is replacing the offender’s black belt with a white one. The latter is what is worn when starting out, so the punishment tells the wayward trainee to “fix your heart and mind and start again from the beginning.” As the afternoon progresses, Shim’s empty dojang fills up with lively children in their taekwondo uniforms. Surrounded by the adolescent high energy, Master Shim’s face lights up.

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ENTERTAINMENT

Symbolism beyond Stunning Spectacles

Director Kim Yong-hwa opened a new chapter in Korean film history with his blockbuster “Along with the Gods.” Defying conventional wisdom, he did not wait to see how well his movie was received before planning a sequel. He made a two-part series from the outset.

“A

long with the Gods: The Two Worlds,” an action fantasy film about the afterlife and underworld, premiered in December 2017 with a sequel ready for release anytime. The audacious foresight was more than justified. With over 14 million viewers, it became the second-highest ticket seller in Korean film history, as well as the highest-grossing Korean film in Taiwan and second-highest in Hong Kong. The second installment, “Along with the Gods: The Last 49 Days,” released in August 2018, also surpassed the 10 million viewer mark, placing it 14th in domestic movie sales, and smashed the opening-day record for Korean films in Taiwan. The success spurred declarations of “a franchise era” beginning in Korean cinema. Premature, perhaps. Nevertheless, a sequel-prequel-spinoff format is expected to become more and more common. The word is already out about a third installment of “Along with the

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Jung Duk-hyun Popular Culture Critic

Gods” and it seems highly probable, given the favorable responses from the director and his cast. “Along with the Gods” is based on a popular webtoon with the same title. But the movie version diverges in characters and plot, adding and subtracting certain elements. Demonstrating Korea’s technological advances, it packs an abundance of spectacular visual effects, but lacks a compelling narrative. Still, the film obviously has a winning formula for a blockbuster: a star-studded cast; eye-opening, jaw-dropping depictions of the afterlife; tear-jerking moments; and a perspective about life and death that runs deep in Asia.

Layers of Buddhism

The movie contains numerous references to Buddhism, almost qualifying as a religious movie. According to the Buddhist belief in reincarnation, it takes 49 days for the deceased to gain a new life. During that time, they undergo weeklong trials in seven circles of hell to qualify for reincarnation. The 49th day is Judgment Day, overseen by the King of Hell. Consequently, many Koreans mourn the passing of loved ones for 49 days, and on the last day conduct rites to pray for their blissful rebirths. “Along with the Gods” deals with a fireman who has died in an accident and tries to conquer the seven trials. Three grim reapers act as guardians, accompanying the fireman and repelling agents of the underworld who try to stop him. Through impressive visual effects, the hells of murder, indolence, deceit, injustice, betrayal, violence and filial impiety are depicted, creating the anchor of the film. The movie, in rich detail, unspools scenes with sinners who are eternally damned to suffer the excruciating pains of purgatory. If good persons become victims of unjust deaths, they have another chance at life by proving themselves worthy candidates for

3 © Joo Ho-min

1, 2. The prequel and sequel of “Along with the Gods” attracted more than 10 million moviegoers each, amid praise for their spectacular visual effects delivering messages about Buddhist reincarnation. 3. The movie “Along with the Gods” is based on writer and illustrator Joo Ho-min’s webtoon with the same title, which was released on the portal site Naver.

reincarnation. Thus, the film offers more than spectacular images. The film soothes and heals the souls of those who have lived by the rules and done nothing wrong but still have not seen better days. The English subtitle of the first installment is “The Two Worlds,” but the literal translation would be “Crime and Punishment.” Both good and bad people ultimately get what they deserve.

Forgiveness and Reconciliation

The prequel retains Buddhist themes, but the plot is quite different from its predecessor. This time, the brother of the fireman becomes an evil phantom to haunt the living because he was not supposed to die. He undergoes the seven underworld trials, but the plot does not revolve around him alone. Rather, it interlaces the history and relationships of the three grim reapers. If they succeed in helping the fireman reincarnate, they will have a chance at a new life themselves. It probably was a marketing decision to make the second installment a prequel. For a typical franchise movie, a sequel has a lower chance of success, but a prequel has the advantage of going back in time for a new beginning. The literal translation of the prequel’s subtitle would be “Ties and Destiny.” That shows the storyline is not entirely a marketing ploy. Whether good or bad, the people we encounter in our lives are all connected to our previous lives. If you are in a very bad relationship with someone now, you probably started off on the wrong foot some time in your previous life. You must overcome that and forgive and make peace.

The Bondage of Reincarnation

“Along with the Gods: The Last 49 Days” twists in its plot with the protagonist’s 2 unexpected decision after completing the seven underworld trials. He surely fears hell,

but does not want another life. What does this mean? In Buddhism, reincarnation is a religious challenge to overcome. The purpose of Buddhism is to gain “awakening,” thereby releasing oneself from the bondage of endless reincarnation. The ritual on the 49th day after death symbolizes human beings’ wishes to be freed from the cycle of reincarnation. A dead person who refuses to reincarnate shows true salvation in that he no longer has the desire to live again and is at peace. The movie provides both a continuation of tangled relationships through reincarnation as well as an end to these ties. The message resonates especially with audiences in Asian nations who share Buddhist beliefs. It may be a universal sentiment of the weary souls wanting to be comforted by the existence of an afterlife. Probably that is why we believe we live our lives “along with the 2 gods.”

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ESSENTIAL INGREDIENTS

Ginger

as Both Spice and Medicine Ginger is not only frequently used in Korean foods such as kimchi but is also enjoyed in snacks and tea for its health benefits. In Europe, ginger was once a very expensive spice and hence was mainly used to show off rather than for actual flavoring. Jeong Jae-hoon Pharmacist and Food Writer

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uch like couture, food ingredients, too, go in and out of fashion. The ancient Roman cookbook “Apicius: De Re Coquinaria” (On the Subject of Cooking), compiled between the first and fourth century A.D., is regarded as the first cookbook of the West. Most of the recipes presented in the book include spices imported from India and the Far East. Pepper appears particularly often, being included in 80 percent of the recipes. However, in the Middle Ages, the popularity of pepper waned and ginger took its place. During the Middle Ages, ginger was an important ingredient that lent authority to the dinner tables of French nobility. In the first French cookbook, “Le Viandier de Taillevent” (The Viandier of Taillevent), published in the 14th century, ginger took first place in the list of spices, while the chef and gastronome Chiquart Amizco, who wrote down various recipes collected from around Europe in the 15th century, also mentioned ginger as the first spice necessary for the preparation of a royal banquet.

Rare and Precious Spice

Some claim that the popularity of ginger in Europe in the past can be attributed to its ability to cover the bad taste of salt-preserved meat and corrupt food ingredients or to keep meat fresh. Indeed, ginger does seem to reduce unpleasant odors, including fishy smells. To really rid food of bad smells, however, acidic substances such as lemon juice or vinegar are used to cause the chemical reaction of converting a volatile substance into a non-volatile one. Either that or the smelly substance has to be physically absorbed, in the way charcoal is used in making soy sauce. But, in 2016, Chinese scientists experimented with ginger and grass carp, a freshwater fish, and found that ginger did not directly get rid of or reduce the substance causing the fishy smell. Namely, there was no chemical or physical effect. Rather, the strong smell of ginger simply covered other smells, much like a deodorant. Moreover, the supposition that ginger was widely used in Europe during the Middle Ages to rid food of unpleasant smells is hard to accept. For the rich at that time, obtaining fresh meat and fish was not difficult. The nobility could eat fresh game or livestock slaughtered the same day. The 14th century book “Le Ménagier de Paris” (The Parisian Household Book, also published as The Good Wife’s Guide) recommends adding spices, including ginger, at the end of cooking, contradicting the assumption that it was used to keep food fresh. Spices like ginger were once objects of desire in Europe because they were regarded as something rare from “paradise on earth in the East.” Medieval Europeans believed the legend that ginger, cinnamon and other spices were “netted by fishermen as they floated down the Nile River from that mysterious paradise on earth.” That the bourgeois were more strongly inclined than the nobility to use spices to show off their status is understandable. Just as dishes flavored with truffles are esteemed in exclusive restaurants today, ginger was a rare and precious ingredient for Europeans in the past.

Ginger as Medicine

Koreans use ginger, called saenggang, just as commonly as garlic when making kimchi, so they might find it strange that ginger was considered something from paradise. But in the past, ginger was a valuable ingredient in Korea as well. Nobody knows precisely when ginger, originating in Southeast Asia, was introduced to Korea, but the oldest written record of it dates back to 1018, when King Hyeonjong of the Goryeo Dynasty ordered that families of soldiers who died in the war against the Khitans in the north be given tea, ginger and hemp cloth for consolation. From this we can assume that ginger was about as

Ginger, a precious spice for the Europeans during the Middle Ages, had been widely used in Korea as medicine a long time before it was used in food.

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expensive as tea or hemp cloth, which were rare and valuable commodities at the time. Ginger remained costly during the succeeding Joseon period. As it was a favorite ingredient of Confucius — in the “Analects” it is written that he ate it at every meal — it is assumed that ginger would have been greatly prized in Joseon, which was a Confucian state. However, it was as medicine rather than as food that ginger was prized in so many parts of the world. Eating ginger warms the stomach, which led to the inference that it was good for digestion. For Koreans, who ate saenggang jeonggwa, or ginger boiled down in syrup as guided by the cookbooks “Sanga yorok” (Essentials of a Mountainside Household) from the 15th century and “Suun japbang” (Assorted Recipes for Fine Food) from the 16th century, and for the English and the Germans who ate gingerbread during the Middle Ages, ginger seems to have been a tasty snack and medicine at the same time. Those who wondered as children why adults liked such a spicy snack would nod. Ginger snacks, ginger tea and ginger ale are also consumed to ease nausea. Although it is not yet known exactly how ginger helps to relieve the symptoms, the compound gingerol, which is responsible for the spiciness of ginger, is believed to play a role. When ginger dries up, gingerol changes into shogaols, which are pungent components twice as strong as gingerol. That is why dried ginger is spicier. Those spicy components stimulate the gastric mucous membrane, causing blood vessels to expand and providing a warm feeling as well as helping the digestive organ function better and thus decreasing nausea.

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1. Traditionally, Koreans have enjoyed ginger desserts such as saenggang jeonggwa, which is ginger boiled down with honey or grain syrup (above), and pyeongang, ginger slices boiled in water and sugar and sprinkled with ground pine nuts. 2. Although the effect of ginger in raising body temperature is not scientifically proven, Koreans believe that drinking hot ginger tea helps fight both colds and cold weather.

According to tradition, pregnant women should not eat ginger, but no research supports this; rather, ginger can actually help relieve morning sickness. From old times, ginger was believed to increase the body temperature, but research conducted by a Japanese team in 2015 revealed that the effect of ginger on body temperature is insignificant. The same goes for other spicy foods, such as chili; dishes made with ginger, garlic and chili may make you sweat and feel hot, but do not actually increase your body temperature. However, upon eating spicy foods the body reacts in almost the same way as when one’s body temperature goes up. That is, one sweats as if one has fever. Consuming ginger does not increase one’s body temperature more than other foods, but on a cold day, many people find themselves longing for a cup of hot ginger tea. Just feeling the warmth is enough to make them happy.

Change of Social Desire

Ginger has a lot of aromatic substances suggestive of woody, lemony and minty flavors. Lemon and ginger are especially harmonious in scent and are commonly used together to make tea and drunk with honey. Ginger has a sweet aroma in addition to its spicy taste and so is often used to enhance the flavor of desserts. In Southeast Asian countries that spread their spices throughout the world, ginger and galangal, another similar spice, remain indispensable culinary ingredients. However, as mentioned earlier, the use of ginger in modern Western cuisine has been reduced to desserts and beverages. That’s because pepper and ginger, now common spices traded in large quantities, are no longer special objects of desire for the upper classes. On the other hand, through the influence of nouvelle cuisine, which started in France during the 18th century, the nobility and the bourgeoisie believed that pursuing the natural flavors of ingredients was true sophistication. Accordingly, the use of strong spices for main dishes decreased, and the practice of eating sweet desserts after salty and savory main dishes began to emerge. It simply represented a social and cultural change, not an unbreakable rule of gastronomy. In parts of Europe where Asian spices were introduced relatively late, the tradition of adding a lot of spices in cooking still remains. Some complain that the strong taste of ginger, chili and garlic cover the natural flavors of ingredients used in Asian cooking, including Korean and Chinese. But this is a rather narrow view originating from the biased perspective of modern Western culinary traditions. So much as the overuse of spices during the Middle Ages was intended to show off one’s status rather than improve the flavor of food, the decreased use is not the result of a change in tastes but of social desire. Instead of judging Asian dishes by Western criteria, surely it is better to enjoy different flavors created by different cultures. True gourmets relish good dishes whether they contain ginger or not. For surely diversity is the spice 2 of life, isn’t it?

Consuming ginger does not increase one’s body temperature more than other foods, but on a cold day, many people find themselves longing for a cup of hot ginger tea. Just feeling the warmth is enough to make them happy.

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LIFESTYLE

Board Games Come Back Board game cafĂŠs are thriving, especially in neighborhoods near universities. The number of active players is also multiplying rapidly. They say what they love about board games is not only the broad diversity of content available but also the chance to share their fun and excitement with fellow enthusiasts. Choi Byung-il Travel-Leisure Reporter, The Korea Economic Daily Ahn Hong-beom Photographer

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raveling in Germany a few years ago, Lee Sun-woo stumbled upon what would become his new hobby: playing board games. It was a chance encounter. “I went into a café, where I found elderly people playing a board game named ‘Twilight Struggle.’ I found it interesting,” he explains. Computer and mobile games had never appealed to the office worker who is in his 30s. But the players competing face-to-face captivated him. “It was a scene quite unfamiliar to me because I knew only about computer games that people play by themselves in front of monitors,” he says. “It occurred to me that this could be a lifelong hobby.” After he returned to Korea, board game cafés became Lee’s new haunts. Not surprisingly, he is now a board game aficionado. And there is plenty of company to share his frequent indulgence. Replicating the scene in Germany, board game rooms and cafés are popping up like mushrooms, mainly in the neighborhoods near universities and city centers.

New Game Engines

“Die Siedler von Catan” (The Settlers of Catan), which was released in Germany in 1995, is said to have opened a new horizon in the board game market, as more than 24 million units have been sold. Players build villages, cities and maritime routes by trading raw materials with each other.

Serious board game playing started in Korea in 1982, when “Blue Marble” became an instant craze. The predecessor to “Blue Marble” was “Monopoly,” which in turn was inspired by “The Landlord’s Game,” patented by Elizabeth Magie, an American game designer, in 1904. A track surrounds the original board of “The Landlord’s Game,” which has the names and purchase prices of squares representing various areas and streets in New York City. The game also was the forerunner to “Modoo Marble,” which caused a sensation after it was turned into a mobile app. A golden age of board games seemed to be underway in the early 2000s. Easy and simple games such as “Halli Galli” and “Rummikub” had gotten quite popular. However, they

lacked staying power and players soon lost interest, jeopardizing the existence of board game cafés. More difficult games were not a viable option for the cafés. Understanding the rules was often time-consuming, which meant slower customer turnover and less profit. Many game cafés vanished like ghosts. Today, the market is picking up again. Industry insiders speculate that, ironically, the widespread use of mobile devices and the Internet has given board games a new lease on life. People who first met in online communities for board game enthusiasts gather to play face-toface and even hold competitions, pushing the boundaries of the industry. A shift in the perception of board games contributes to their revived popularity. The common belief that games represent a culture exclusively reserved for men is passé; young women are coming off the sidelines, enjoying board games with their friends. Crowd-funding, the practice of raising small amounts of money from a large number of people over the Internet, is opening up possibilities for cash-poor game developers. According to Kickstarter, the U.S.-based funding platform for creative projects, $85 million was donated through the site to fund board game projects in 2015. It was more than twice the $41 million given to support video games that year. About 1,400 board games were produced this way.

All Aboard Again

On September 27, thousands of people flocked to the “2018 Seoullo Board Game Championships,” held at Malli-dong Plaza in Seoul. “Camel Up,” a camel race game, was streamed live on a 200-inch screen. The spectators sent up rousing cheers with every camel movement on the board. A month later, board game competitions for family teams and individual players were held in Paju, Gyeong-

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gi Province. In the family division, one parent and one child teamed up to play “Halli Galli” at the Gyoha Library to celebrate the 10th anniversary of its opening. In the individuals division, elementary schoolchildren competed in a tournament in “Ubongo.” These events were just two examples of the increasing number of local municipalities hosting a variety of board game competitions. Due to the short history of the domestic board games industry, it is still difficult to accurately measure the market size. However, based on the sales of game importers and manufacturers, Korea’s board game market was valued at about 100 billion won in 2015, equivalent to some 10 percent of the toy market that year, according to the Korea Creative Content Agency. Korea Boardgames, the largest game developer and distributor in the country, saw

its annual sales rise by some 15 percent over two years, from 24.5 billion won in 2015 to 28.8 billion won in 2017. And sales by small game makers, such as Happy Baobab and Gemblo, also leaped by over 20 percent. The boom is not unique to Korea. Overseas markets have also grown at a double-digit rate over the past five years. From 2014 to 2015, the American market expanded by about 11 percent to $1.6 billion, according to the U.S. Toy Association. The market is also growing in European countries, including Germany and France.

Making Memories Together

Changes in contents are also contributing to the board games industry’s sales growth. As new games containing augmented reality are connected to

smartphones, users can become fully immersed in their favorite games with the help of mobile apps. Meanwhile, educators are trying to make the most of board games. They believe board games’ social, emotional and educational characteristics can aid the character development of children and adolescents. For example, “EntryBot,” which is played in the style of “Blue Marble,” helps players learn the basics of computer programming, as they move pieces on the board, which contains squares with their own codes. Board games are also gaining wider popularity among families who enjoy playing simple games together. Popular family games include “Dynamite,” in which players defuse bombs by pressing a switch in time; “Quick, Draw!,” in which players hit targets with a toy gun as instructed by mission cards; and “Mr

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A positive effect of board games for society as a whole is that they can help soothe the hearts of people who feel lonely. The games also bring family members together to spend quality time and feel closer to each other.

Funny Face,” in which players race the clock to put puzzles together to shape a human face. “Board game users in different age groups have different interests and different criteria for choosing games,” a marketing staffer of a board game firm said. “People are fascinated with board games, because it’s possible for them to exchange ideas and feelings with each other through the games.” He added, “Particular game situa-

tions may also become fond memories for everyone involved.” A positive effect of board games for society as a whole is that they can help soothe the hearts of people who feel lonely. Board game cafés provide total strangers with the opportunity to socialize and strategize over an array of games. The games also bring family members together to spend quality time and feel closer to each other. Again, it may be ironic that online board games

are the most popular games on smartphones these days.

1. Children participate in board game competitions sponsored by the Gyoha Library in Paju, Gyeonggi Province on October 27, 2018. 2. Players enjoy “Jenga,” a popular block-building game, in virtual reality, one of the new technologies increasingly being applied to board games.

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JOURNEYS IN KOREAN LITERATURE

CRITIQUE

Adieu to Darkness, Lonely yet Warm Characters in Ki Jun-young’s stories often ask, “Is this all there is to life?” They try to find something new, but fail to find it. In some ways, it may be the writer’s own question about life. Choi Jae-bong Reporter, The Hankyoreh

i Jun-young made her debut by winning the Munhak Dongne [Literary Community] New Writers Award for her short story “Jenny” in 2009. Then, in 2012, she published the full-length novel “Wild Punch,” followed by the short story collections “Love Story” (2013) and “Strange Passion” (2016) — enough to show that she has been working hard. Not infrequently, her works are described as “cinematic.” This is surely related to the fact that she majored in film at the Korea National University of Arts. “Jenny,” her first fiction, slices through the lives of the namesake protagonist and the narrator “I” as it depicts their personalities and stories, with the novel’s theme skillfully presented with cinematic technique. The segmented but continuous form and style make the readers feel as if they are watching some sensuous video. In giving her the award, the jury said, “The worldview of the author drives the novel forward,” pinpointing the strong correlation between her theme and her style. The main character, Jenny, is floundering, trapped in an extremely unstable and miserable environment. Yet the author’s style in conveying this is quite calm and even seems cheerful. Jenny’s own personality may also play a role, but because of the author’s stylistic features, her misery and suffering seem not too serious, as if they can be overcome. Jenny’s seizures, surrounded by a poetic aura in the early part of the story before being depicted in the later part in horrendous detail, together with the causal relationship, have a dramatic impact on the reader. This may be the result of the author’s unique technique of “distancing.”

90 KOREANA Winter 2018

Regarding “Jenny” and another She describes the main characters of short story, “B-cam,” published together the nine works in this collection as folin the collection “Love Story,” Ki noted, lows: “While shooting a movie, I was inspired “Characters who encounter a new to turn that process into a documentary.” situation when they think they have As for yet another short story, “Cinereached an end, or who have set out ma,” she explained, “After drawing up along a path that they know nothing the broad outlines of characters, I startabout; characters who seem about to ed by spending a day walking around leave one place for another, or who Myeong-dong carrying a camera.” have already left. Moments when they That is to say, both works are related in bend the familiar axis of time and turn some way to moviemaking or cinematic daily life into an unfamiliar experience grammar. ...” “Wild Punch,” the writer’s only fullThe situation in which a 17-yearlength novel, also shows strong cineold girl, Jae-ok, the narrator and cenmatic characteristics. A narrative which, tral character of “Gate 4,” finds herself instead of kindly explaining the relations and the choices she makes correspond of cause and effect, skips over contexts, with the author’s remarks above. After the emotional dialogue batted back and her stepfather suddenly dies, Jae-ok forth by the characters, and rapid changfinds herself in a bizarre cohabitation es of scene led some to say that reading with her 39-year-old mother and her “Finally, I decided to go the book was like watching a movie by 28-year-old stepbrother. To make maton and meet my readers director Hong Sang-soo, credited with ters worse, her mother runs away, leavhis distinctive cinematic aesthetic. The ing a short letter for her daughter and somewhere deeper and ability to stimulate the curiosity and stepson. Jae-ok cynically says, “My darker than before.” imagination of readers with small daily stepbrother and I, with no common events and chance scenes without parblood between us, were left like a newlaying big events or serious situations lywed couple in the old warehouse-like reveals freedom and skills that are not house.” usually found in a first novel. It is no surprise that in this situation Ki Jun-young came to writing Jae-ok feels afraid and readers naturally somewhat later than most other writers. Born in 1972, she was share her fear. However, the charm of this story is the way the already in her later thirties when she was first published. Her relationship between Jae-ok and her stepbrother develops difearly works betray none of a new writer’s freshness or awkferently from what is anticipated. Unexpected trust and affecwardness but rather show an independent style and technical tion arise between the two half-siblings; she narrates that “we maturity, which seemingly developed over a long period of looked like an as yet unborn brother and sister” and “[he is] time with a firm grip on fiction-writing. As if to compensate for the most reliable darkness along the edges of my unpredictable her late start, she has won the Changbi [Creation and Criticism] life.” Novel Award, bestowed by the well-known publishing compaWhen her mother leaves home and her stepbrother goes ny Changbi Publishers, as well as the Munhak Dongne Young roaming around and is confronted with situations in which he Writers Award, thus firmly securing her place in literary circles. receives big and small scars on his body, Jae-ok protests, sayNevertheless, the author’s foreword in her second short ing, “You took my place. I’m the one who should be sick as story collection, “Strange Passion,” published by Changbi, a dog and able to leave home. Everyone’s going too far.” The reveals that she had been wondering whether or not to continue way Jae-ok casually sleeps with a man in his forties whom she writing fiction. The short story “Gate 4,” included in this colmet on a public bench is an expression of her protest and struglection, was written amidst such hesitation. She wrote, “When gle to finally grow up. Five years later, Jae-ok is at the airport to I wrote this work, I was agonizing over whether to stop here leave for a trip to China. She has put the lonely yet warm darkor move forward as a novelist. Finally, I decided to go on and ness behind her, her image fading into the distance lingering in meet my readers somewhere deeper and darker than before.” the heart of the reader like the last scene of a movie.

KOREAN CULTURE & ARTS 91

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