메인메뉴 바로가기본문으로 바로가기

Features

Arts & Culture

Gejang: Marinated Crab with a Delightful Texture

K-uisine 2023 AUTUMN

Gejang: Marinated Crab with a Delightful Texture The soft flesh underneath the hard shell is so tender that it melts in the mouth. The delicate and juicy meat, along with the crab’s innards, oozes right out upon first bite, with the initial salty and spicy kick instantly yielding to a mild sweetness that envelopes the entire palate. How could anyone dislike such a delightful combination of flavors? Allow me to introduce you to the traditional Korean dish gejang. Ganjang gejang is a dish of fresh crab marinated in a mix of soy sauce, onion, garlic, and other ingredients. The crab’s delicious, chewy flesh combined with its soft and creamy innards make this dish truly irresistible. The term “jang” in “gejang” stems from the Chinese character 醬, which refers to a variety of sauces and pastes made from fermented soybeans. Some of the better-known examples include ganjang, or soy sauce, doenjang, also known as soybean paste, and gochujang, a spicy red pepper paste that has lately found its way into international fusion cuisine. All of these condiments are made from bricks of dried fermented soybeans called meju, which are soaked in brine for an extended period in order to undergo secondary fermentation. Soy sauce is produced by filtering and boiling the liquid obtained from the fermented meju and brine mixture. BORN OUT OF TRADITION The process of preparing ganjang gejang, namely soaking raw crab in a soy sauce marinade for a significant length of time, draws many similarities with Korea’s culinary tradition of fermentation, which involves aging certain foods to enhance their flavor. There is also a spicy variation of this dish called yangnyeom gejang, in which the marinade is primarily made from gochujang and soy sauce. To fully appreciate gejang, it is necessary to have a basic understanding of the cultural significance of jang in Korean cuisine. The use of soy sauce to marinate fresh crabs for ganjang gejang, or gochujang and soy sauce, along with various other ingredients, to make the sweet and savory yangnyeom gejang marinade, is deeply rooted in the culinary tradition of jang which itself plays an integral role in Korean cuisine as a whole. GOOD SOY SAUCE AND FRESH CRABS Although ganjang gejang was traditionally made using live crabs, these days the dish is prepared using flash-frozen crabs that are harvested during peak season. © gettyimagesKOREA Gejang can be broadly divided into two types: ganjang gejang and yangnyeom gejang. As mentioned above, ganjang gejang is made by submerging raw crabs in soy sauce and allowing them to marinate in a refrigerator for a few days. The key to tasty ganjang gejang is the use of fresh crabs and high-quality soy sauce. Hence, handmade soy sauces are recommended over store-bought ones. This is because soy sauce is a product of fermentation, and the aging process has a direct impact on the product’s flavor and salinity concentration. Traditionally made soy sauce, or ssiganjang, is fermented for an extensive period of time, which gives it a superior taste. To make ganjang gejang, finely sliced onions, scallions, apples, garlic, and chili peppers are mixed with ssiganjang before being brought to a boil and left to cool down. Fresh crabs are then added to the cooled soy sauce mixture and left to marinate in the refrigerator for a few days before serving. The most traditional method of preparing gejang involves submerging l ive crabs in ssiganjang along with small pieces of beef inside a large earthenware jar. Over the next few days, the crabs consume the meat. This process is said to give them a much sweeter taste as well as a tender texture. Nowadays, instead of feeding beef to the crabs, it is more common, when boiling the sauce, to add sugar or corn starch syrup along with rice cooking wine to achieve the sweet flavor. Gejang is typically marinated for two to three days, but leaving it for longer allows the soy sauce to penetrate the crabs deeper and more evenly, which results in a more intense flavor. HOW TO EAT GANJANG GEJANG One of the most popular ways of enjoying ganjang gejang involves filling the crab’s shell with rice which is then mixed with the marinated innards to make gettakji bap. © gettyimagesKOREA Before the perfectly marinated f lesh under the crabs’ hard exterior can be enjoyed, the outer shells must be removed. Once this is done, the crabs should be cut in half with a pair of scissors. One can then squeeze the pieces to extract all the juicy flesh which oozes with the marinade and the crabs’ bright orange innards. Added to a spoonful of freshly cooked rice, this delightful combination bursts with savory goodness. This process is just the start. After the first mouthful of ganjang gejang, it is time to get down to the serious business. Inside the carefully removed outer shells, one finds the savory and creamy innards, the most prized part of the dish. A common practice involves filling the shells with rice and mixing it with the marinated innards to make gettakji bap, literally “crab shell rice.” Another popular way of enjoying the innards is by mixing them with crab meat, roasted sesame oil (a staple of Korean cuisine which boasts an exquisitely nutty flavor), dried laver, and rice to make gejang bibimbap. Some restaurants will even top this off with some flying fish roe which adds a crunchy pop of texture to the dish. Although the soy sauce marinade is certainly important, the key to preparing this dish lies in ensuring the crabs’ flesh is soft and their innards savory, which requires the use of fresh in-season crab. The coastal area near Seosan in South Chungcheong Province is known for its abundance of blue crabs; crabs caught in season, especially egg-carrying female crabs, make for the best-tasting ganjang gejang.   FROM GEJANG TO GANJANG GEJANG Known for its sweet and spicy sauce, yangnyeom gejang finds its origins in mixed and seasoned dishes known as muchim. In contrast to the equally popular ganjang gejang, in which the crab is first marinated, yangnyeom gejang is meant to be eaten right away.© gettyimagesKOREA Although the term “gejang” used to be synonymous with ganjang gejang, this changed with the arrival of yangnyeom gejang, a dish consisting of crabs coated in a red sauce with a completely different flavor profile and appeal. Yangnyeom gejang has a shorter history than its predecessor. Its origins can be traced back to the Chungcheong and Jeolla provinces, which have a long-standing tradition of mixing raw fish or dried pollock with a spicy sauce made from either red pepper flakes or gochujang. People later began eating crab in the same fashion, which resulted in the dish known today as yangnyeom gejang. At the time, the dish was simply referred to as ge muchim. “Muchim” is a term widely used in Korean cuisine to refer to dishes made from ingredients dressed in a spicy sauce, including the likes of hoe muchim (raw fish salad) and hwangtae muchim (pollock salad). Yangnyeom gejang differs from ganjang gejang in many ways. While ganjang gejang is made by marinating crabs in soy sauce, yangnyeom gejang involves simply dressing crabs in a sweet and spicy sauce, and while the former is left to age, the latter is meant to be eaten right away. Unlike ganjang gejang, yangnyeom gejang isn’t meant to bring out all of the crab’s subtle flavors. Although there is no fixed recipe, the sauce is usually made from a combination of red chili powder, gochujang, soy sauce, sugar, garlic, scallions, onions, and corn starch syrup. Compared to the sauce used in the earlier version of the dish, namely ge muchim, yangnyeom gejang sauce now has a thicker and somewhat stickier consistency. Smaller crabs are usually preferred when preparing this dish. The process involves removing the shells, gills, and abdominal f laps from the crabs, cutting them into halves or quarters, and generously coating them in the tasty sauce. Thanks to its addictively sweet and spicy flavor, yangnyeom gejang has come to rival ganjang gejang in popularity.   RESTAURANTS SPECIALIZING IN GEJANG The popularity of gejang in Korea is evidenced by the large number of restaurants specializing in the dish. These range from upscale restaurants, where a single crab can cost over 40,000 won, to all-you-can-eat restaurants offering unlimited ganjang gejang and yangnyeom gejang from as little as 10,000 or 20,000 won per person. In the Sinsa-dong neighborhood in Seoul’s Gangnam District, there is even an entire street known as “Gejang Alley” lined with restaurants specializing in this particular dish. Although it is unclear which of these places first sold the delicacy, the restaurants in Gejang Alley are usually all full of customers. Particularly popular among gejang lovers is Jinmi Sikdang, a restaurant located in Gongdeok-dong in Seoul’s Mapo District. This place boasts an abundance of crabs during the peak seasons in June and December. The locally fished crabs are carefully air-shipped and promptly frozen at minus 35 degrees Celsius to ensure they remain as fresh as live crabs. At this restaurant, ganjang gejang is served alongside a wide variety of side dishes, including fluffy steamed eggs called dalgyal-jjim, a spicy stew made from crab and kimchi called kkotge jjigae (which is sometimes referred to as gekukji), a fermented dish of salted oysters with hot pepper powder called eori-guljeot, and a type of dried green laver which stands out for its distinct texture and aromatic flavor. One tasty way to enjoy this dish is to wrap some rice in green laver with some eori-guljeot and crab meat. Jinmi Sikdang’s popularity is likely to soar even further, after earning a coveted spot in the 2023 Seoul MICHELIN Guide.   Hwang Hae-won Editor-in-chief, Food Service Management Lee Min-Hee Photographer

#gejang

Hoping to Prevent the “Next Sohee”

Entertainment 2023 AUTUMN

Hoping to Prevent the “Next Sohee” Next Sohee (2022), the first Korean film to close the Cannes Film Festival, illuminates the emotional toll exploitative working conditions take on young people, contributing to their rising suicide rate. Less than a year after its release, Korean law was revised to better protect young workers. The film Next Sohee revolves around a high school student who worked at a call center and the police detective seeking answers to her suicide. © TWINPLUS PARTNERS INC. As the Credits rolled for Next Sohee, the official closing film of the 75th Cannes Film Festival in 2022, a seven-minute standing ovation was dotted with tears. The reaction far exceeded the response to Decision To Leave (2022) and Broker (2022), the two Korean films invited to the festival’s “In Competition” section. As the admirers exited, they clapped spontaneously in front of Korean press cameras, shouted “bravo,” and raised their thumbs in approval. While standing ovations are a staple of film festivals, such enthusiastic appreciation outside the theater underscores how well the film was received. Emmanuel, a French journalist, could barely speak, swallowing his sobs. “It really hurts. It’s a very, very good film,” he said. “Through films like this, we connect with each other,” said Elly, from Belgium. REAL LIFE Next Sohee, based on an actual Korean student who worked as a call center customer relations agent, broadly captures the dark aspects of contemporary Korean society. The film elicits deep empathy among audiences and has buttressed a long overdue need to expand labor protection regulations as well as introspection about social expectations and pressures. In South Korea, there are two types of high schools: schools that prepare college-bound students and vocational schools that ready students for employment upon graduation. Students in the latter may take a class that includes an internship with a company. From the school’s perspective, sending many students to companies improves their employment record, whereas for companies, the vocational students are a way to gain recognition and collect government subsidies. Unfortunately, some vocational students wind up in difficult circumstances: they become overworked and emotionally drained. In January 2017, a senior-year student at a vocational school was found dead in a frigid reservoir in Jeonju. She was a trainee at a call center subcontracted by a large corporation. Her job—keeping dissatisfied customers from terminating their internet subscriptions—invited complaints and verbal abuse late into the night. In addition, her salary was less than she had agreed upon, on the grounds that she was not a regular employee. “I can’t take it anymore,” were the words she left behind for her friend before she plunged into the numbing reservoir water. The incident was included in a current affairs TV program seen by film director Jung July. She decided to bring the student’s fate to the screen as she became aware of many similar cases. Next Sohee resonated in Korea, where workers without regular employment status are often marginalized. In March of this year, just 10 months after the movie was screened at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival and weeks after its release in Korea, the National Assembly passed the Next Sohee Prevention Act, also known as the Partial Amendment to the Vocational Education and Training Promotion Act. The amendment expanded labor standards to include on-the-job trainees and introduced hefty fines and prison sentences as punishments for forced labor practices, assault, and workplace harassment. REALISTIC DEPICTION So-hee reports to work as part of an internship program. She must tolerate abusive customers and offer fake kindness every day to get passing approval. © TWINPLUS PARTNERS INC. The joy of having an office job is short-lived. The cheerful girl who loved to dance becomes an emotionally spent person. © TWINPLUS PARTNERS INC. The first part of Next Sohee documents the true experiences of the student who took her own life. The second part wonders if So-hee’s fate would have changed had at least one adult stood with her. The first part is not merely a confrontational narrative of the company exploiting its workers. The problems are multi-faceted, and the solutions are even more challenging. As So-hee, played by Kim Si-eun, performs better than others, the company raises its targets, giving rise to tension among her colleagues. So-hee and her friend, who is better off, argue over who is in a more pitiful situation and end up hurting each other emotionally. Thus, Next Sohee mines the structural contradictions of a competitive society where employers and employees clash, even vulnerable people end up butting heads, and those in the lower rungs fight to avoid slipping down further. In a society faced with ever-greater levels of inequality, convenience store owners struggling with debt quarrel over the minimum wage with part-time workers struggling to survive, and solidarity between workers laid off due to restructuring and those with secure jobs ends up in tatters. The turmoil originates from management, but even middle managers are not spared from unforgiving work conditions. The film’s second part is steeped with confrontation. Detective Oh Yu-jin gradually embarks on a lonely pursuit, as she uncovers the truth behind So-hee’s suicide. It appears that there were several opportunities to prevent the death if appropriate measures had been taken, so Oh vows to prevent another So-hee. Every time she investigates those who are responsible, the recurring answer she receives is something like “If we don’t achieve results, we will also die.” The situation cannot be blamed on just one institution or individual. It involves the company at which So-hee worked, the large corporation that subcontracted the call center operation to that company, the school that recommended the company to So-hee because it was a large corporation, and the Office of Education that supervises the high school, and so on. The film’s well-knit plot provides insight into wrongful acts that occur on a much larger scale than widely assumed. Because of this, Oh had to portray both the determination to prevent such events from recurring and the helplessness of an individual confronting a massive system. The performance of actor Bae Doo-na, who played the role of Oh, is all the more convincing, her face filled with anguish, searching for So-hee’s traces. Director Jung July shared an anecdote at the Cannes Film Festival. “Before filming, I asked Doo-na to make a face that seemed like she hadn’t slept for days, and the next day, she really showed up with that face. I was genuinely surprised when I saw her.”   TRAMPLED DREAM Detective Oh Yu-jin shuttles between her police station and So-hee’s workplace, school, and the Office of Education. The more evidence she uncovers, the more unsettled she becomes. © TWINPLUS PARTNERS INC. The most heart-wrenching scenes are stupefying. First, Oh tells So-hee’s parents, “Did you know she loved to dance? She was incredibly good at it.” Upon hearing this, her parents break down in tears. Then, at the end of the movie, Oh watches a video on So-hee’s phone. It is the only video left after she deleted all messages and apps before taking her own life. In the video, So-hee is seen dancing enthusiastically and smiling at the end. This time, tears stream down the detective’s face. There seems to be a clear motive for showing So-hee’s dancing twice in a sorrowful manner. Here, the film introduces academic pressure as another source of the crushing stress experienced by youth. It poses the question whether Korean society truly recognizes the talents, aptitudes, preferences, qualities, tastes, hobbies, individuality, characteristics, and potential of the next generation. It also speculates whether the root of tragedies involving youth begins with a lack of understanding and support from older generations. If Korean society expects students to abandon their dreams and only pursue majors with high employment potential; or if young people are forced to seek jobs solely based on their stability, fearing they will fall off a cliff otherwise; or if humanities majors feel belittled—then will the next So-hee be from a college-prep high school? Is Korea creating a world where the next generation can nurture their dreams? The reason why international audiences at the Cannes Film Festival were moved by Next Sohee was probably because they were reminded of these questions in their own country. discovering the cause of So-hee’s suicide, Detective Oh Yu-jin and fellow police officers realize how adults destroyed So-hee’s will to live and turned their back on her. © TWINPLUS PARTNERS INC. Song Hyeong-guk Film Critic

#Next Sohee

On the Impossibility of Knowing

Books & More 2023 AUTUMN

On the Impossibility of Knowing “The Specters of Algeria” By Hwang Yeo-jung, Translated by Jung Ye-won 165 pages, £13.99, Honford Star, 2023 On the Impossibility of Knowing IN 1882, an ailing Karl Marx traveled to Algeria to benefit from the Mediterranean climate. Unfortunately, the weather would not be as salubrious as he had hoped; he ultimately failed to recover. Nevertheless, while in Algeria, Marx rediscovered his passion for writing plays and penned the only dramatic work ever to bear his name: The Specters of Algeria. Marx died soon after in London. One hundred years later, Pak Seonwu discovered the play at a secondhand bookshop in Paris and brought it to South Korea, a nation still in the grip of ideological paranoia. It was only a matter of time before he and his friends would run afoul of the authorities. The Specters of Algeria refers not only to this long-lost play by Marx, but also to the last play staged by legendary playwright Tak Osu before he retired to open a bar called “Algeria” on Jeju Island. Lastly, of course, it is also the title of Hwang Yeo Jung’s prize-winning debut novel. These overlapping layers function as a metaphor for the novel itself, a delicately crafted puzzle box that reveals nothing at first glance and invites the reader to tease out the implications of the layered narrative, poking and prodding at the box to discover its secrets. The novel is divided into four parts, which are narrated by three different characters. “Yul’s Story” follows a young woman as she grows up in the shadow of the play, trying to make sense of the lives of her parents as well as her own. “Cheolsu’s Story” narrates the journey of an uncertain young man as he searches for the truth. “Osu’s Story” consolidates the scattered pieces of the narrative into a possible explanation. The final part returns to Yul as the story takes yet another turn. In some ways, these different perspectives complement each other to paint a more complete picture of what happened, while in other ways they resemble the parable of the blind men trying to describe an elephant—each is influenced by their experience, and none of them has the whole truth. Even Osu, who might appear to have all the answers, seems more concerned with the truth-seeker Cheolsu’s beliefs than with any objective truth. “Every story is a mixture of truth and lies,” he says. “Even when people see and hear the same thing at the same place, they recollect it differently. Sometimes, even what you hear and see and experience for yourself isn’t true.” Though Yul seems to be the character least interested in the play itself, in the end it is she who reassembles the many threads of the narrative. But the result is merely a collection of frayed ends, not a neat and tidy knot. Hwang’s skill as a storyteller is on full display here as she leads us along, revealing enough to pique our interest and curiosity but never laying all her cards on the table. We want to know what really happened, what it all means in the end, but Hwang eschews easy answers. Just as every story is a mixture of truth and lies, so every story is also a kaleidoscope, shards of light refracted through the eyes of whoever happens to be living it. Ultimately, it is impossible to ever know the “truth” of something—and even if we manage to find something resembling truth, that might not be what matters after all. The Specters of Algeria proves the adage that the journey is more important than the destination; this journey is one that will leave the reader with much to ponder “I’ll Give You All My Promenade” By Jeong Woo-shin, Translated by Susan K 71 pages, ₩9,500, ASIA Publishers, 2022 The Price of Remembrance JEONG WOO-SHIN’S collection of new poems, I’ll Give You All My Promenade, takes the reader on a journey of loss, mourning, and the emptiness that follows. It evokes the emotions one feels when walking through the ruins of a once great city, except that this city is a world built by the poet with his beloved, the “you” to whom many of the poems are addressed. This beloved is no longer among the living, and yet remains in everything that is indelibly etched in the poet’s memories, including the spot where the beloved once stayed; the streets where the poet and his beloved once walked together; and the window from which the beloved once stared out. Yet f lowers still bloom and wither as they always do. A hair salon closes, and a real estate office opens in its place. In a world that stubbornly refuses to stand still, the poet chooses the pain of remembrance over the healing of oblivion, memorializing that pain and his beloved in this touching collection. The poems represent a promenade worth taking and memories worth sharing. “Imagine Your Korea” www.youtube.com/@imagineyourkorea A Smorgasbord of Delights from Korea THIS YOUTUBE CHANNEL, operated by the Korea Tourism Organization, features a plethora of videos that introduce Korean cities in new and creative ways. The Feel the Rhythm of Korea series highlights popular destinations around the country, leading viewers on energetic tours set to music by Korean artists. The earliest entries showcase the infectious fusion vibes of LEENALCHI punctuated by the eclectic moves of the Ambiguous Dance Company, while the most recent entries are curated by members of K-pop sensation BTS. There are also plenty of videos for Hallyu fans, including tours of Hallyu locations and introductions to Hallyu experiences. Taking a different tack, the Oddly Satisfying Korea series highlights aspects of Korean life and culture that are pleasing to both the eye and the ear. And if you are a fan of international football, there are even a few videos with Tottenham Hotspur forward Son Heung-min. There is a little something for everyone, and most of the videos are short and sweet, providing viewers with quick peeks into areas of interest.

#On the Impossibility of Knowing

An Exhilarating Musical Revolution

Interview 2023 AUTUMN

An Exhilarating Musical Revolution Formed in 2020, the duo HAEPAARY reinterprets traditional Korean music with electronic beats. At the 2022 Korean Music Awards, the pair collected the Best Electronic Album and Best Electronic Song accolades. We caught up with them at Mudaeruk, a multipurpose cultural space in Hapjeong-dong, Seoul. Alternative electronic duo HAEPAARY was formed in 2020 by singer MINHEE (left) and instrumentalist HYEWON. Their musical works combine electronic music and traditional Korean music, while reinterpreting both. They are regarded as trend-setters in the Korean electronic music scene. In 2019, the song “Tiger is Coming,” a single by alternative pop band LEENALCHI, made a big splash upon its release. The band’s post-punk reinterpretation of the pansori (musical storytelling) piece Sugungga (Water Palace Song) mesmerized audiences, and people began to pay closer attention to music that combined folk and pop elements. A Shining Warrior — A Heartfelt Joy One of the songs on HAEPAARY’s first EP, Born by Gorgeousness, was released in 2021. The album won Best Electronic Album at the 2022 Korean Music Awards. HAEPAARY, the electronic music duo formed by MINHEE and HYEWON, joined the genre in 2021. Their debut song, “Somu-dokgyeong” (A Shining Warrior - A Heartfelt Joy),” plays over a cold, almost ambient beat, together with Jongmyo ritual music used in ceremonies to honor Joseon kings and queens. While classical Korean percussion shines through, the inclusion of a low-pitched narration in the second half resembles a horror movie soundtrack. Noted for the originality of their musical universe, HAEPAARY’s image is sharp and revolutionary. Although they draw on centuries-old Korean musical traditions, they also deconstruct anachronistic texts and shatter gender roles. For example, they sometimes sing namchang gagok, songs reserved for male performers, and reinterpret the male-dominated culture of the Joseon Dynasty from a female perspective. It is no mystery why young people disillusioned with conventional and conservative music would be excited by such a fresh take on traditional genres. How did your music interests evolve? HYEWON: When I was younger, I was a member of the Kim Duk Soo Children’s Arts Troupe. I was a huge fan of the album collaboration between Kim Duk Soo and the international jazz group Red Sun, and it really made me ask: “How does one play with traditional beats like this?” I also performed with the world music group wHOOL, and I have always been interested in learning new things. After graduating from a high school specializing in gugak (traditional Korean music) and entering college, I fell in love with electronic music. MINHEE: As a child, my father made sure that I learned sijo (traditional Korean poetic songs) and gagok (slow lyrical songs). It was while I was learning sijo, yeochang gagok (songs reserved for female performers), and gasa (longer traditional Korean poetic songs) that I realized I didn’t want to go to a regular high school. In middle school, I loved the American rapper Tupac Shakur and was enthusiastic about songs like “Poppy” by Korean punk rock pioneers Crying Nut. I also listened to the British metal band Black Sabbath, which my brother’s friends were fans of. Then I enrolled in a gugak high school and heard Sujecheon, a traditional instrumental composition, for the first time, which was a real shock to my system. It was way wilder than the progressive rock and art rock I had been used to. I think it was around that time that I realized I wanted to be a very radical artist like the gayageum player Hwang Byung-ki or video artist Nam June Paik. What has been the reaction since your debut? MINHEE: Our biggest goal and challenge was to establish ourselves in the electronic music and even pop music market without being lumped in with the K-pop scene. I think being nominated for Best New Artist at the 2022 Korean Music Awards alongside K-pop groups like æspa and having our album placed next to ambient music duo Salamanda in record stores were both significant milestones in helping us achieve that goal. How is HAEPAARY viewed in electronic music circles? HYEWON: Often the first thing we are asked about are our instrument sources, maybe because we use a lot of unique sounds. Sometimes I sample gugak sources, but usually I make slight variations on sources used by other electronic musicians. We don’t intentionally try to use gugak elements, but I think our music has a gugak feel to it because both gugak and pop influences are prominent in our music. What is your stance on K-pop? go to gpd and then A twisted interpretation of a traditional namchang gagok (a folk song reserved for male performers), this song won the Best Electronic Song accolade at the 2022 Korean Music Awards. MINHEE: As an audience member, I love K-pop. But as creators, we take different paths. They aim for polish, and we aim for different textures. For example, notes that deviate from the average scale, beats that deviate from the norm, things like that. We are different from K-pop in many ways, including in our approach to intellectual property. We have never been trained to perform like idol groups, either, so there is fear that we’ll be dismissed as clumsy and boring before people even have a chance to unpack our intentions.   Mixing old and modern influences must be difficult. HYEWON: It’s a challenge when recording an album, too, but we hit even bigger obstacles when performing live. Minhee’s traditional singing and vocalization often do not work well with the electronic sounds that are projected on stage, so we must adjust the sound mix-up until the very last minute. Working on our album, we even tried using a vocoder, which replaces human pitches with mechanical ones, like the French electronic duo Daft Punk does, but it didn’t work. MINHEE: The Spanish musician Rosalía, who reinterprets flamenco classics in a modern way, and the Israeli group A-WA that mixes traditional Yemenite Jewish music with hip-hop, are good models. Of course, their circumstances are different from ours. In their case, their own traditional influences work well with modern beats, whereas we still struggle to combine the nuances of traditional Korean songs with what we have now. It’s difficult but rewarding. HYEWON: In our music, we often mix the two-beat system of Western electronic music with the three-beat system of gugak. Some people ask us if Minhee’s vocals are off-beat, and whether they shouldn’t be corrected by the mixing engineer, but we find that to be the charm and the appeal. I’m intrigued by the idea of reinterpretations that subvert the gender roles we find in traditional texts. MINHEE: Gender is not the only lens we’re interested in. For one of our performances, we interpreted the famous poem “Has the Sun Risen in the East Window?” by the noted Joseon Dynasty scholar-official Nam Gu-man (1629-1711), and we just couldn’t get over the following line: “Is the boy herding the cattle awake yet?” I mean, that’s exploitation of children, right? And our song “The Night It Started” deals with the love of sexual minorities. To us, it feels very natural to question certain things that were largely taken for granted until the 21st century—misogyny, exploitation of vulnerable people, and other social injustices—and transform them into art. What are your plans for 2023 and beyond? HYEWON: We are preparing our first studio album. In October, we plan to participate in the world music festival WOMEX in Spain. But we would like to play more electronic music than world music festivals. MINHEE: We want to perform for audiences who go wild and get “drunk” on the show, rather than for people who sit and listen quietly. So, moving forward, we plan to make a lot of exciting music. HAEPAARY performing at Mudaeruk, a multipurpose cultural space in Hapjeong-dong, Seoul, on May 20, 2023. The duo strives to create songs that excite the audience into jumping up and down. Lim Hee-yun / Music Critic Heo Dong-wuk / Photographer

#HAEPAARY

The Power of Words Carved on Woodblocks

Guardians of Heritage 2023 AUTUMN

The Power of Words Carved on Woodblocks Calligraphic engraving, or gakja, a technique of carving letters and drawings on wooden boards, is an essential skill used for both woodblock printing and the production of signboards in traditional architecture. Gakja requires a comprehensive understanding of individual penmanship as well as the content of the respective texts. In recognition of his long-term dedication to the craft and its transmission, Kim Gak-han was designated as a holder of National Intangible Cultural Heritage in calligraphic engraving in 2013. Kim Gak-han, a master calligraphy engraver, works on one of his projects. When carving woodblocks for book printing, he uses Sargent’s cherry tree wood which is known for its dense and moderately hard texture. Calligraphic engraving, or gakja, refers to the age-old craft of carving letters and drawings on wooden boards. Throughout the long history of Korean culture, gakja has been used to produce woodblock prints as well as the signboards that hang on traditional buildings. An artisan who has practiced the craft for decades, Kim Gak-han was designated as holder of National Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2013. The master calligraphy engraver (gakjajang) has participated in the restoration of significant cultural heritage items: the signboard of Sungnyemun, one of Seoul’s historic gates which was partially lost to arson in 2008; the woodblock version of Anthology of Great Buddhist Priests’ Teachings (Jikji simche yojeol, 1377), known as the world’s earliest book printed using metal type; and the woodblocks for the printing of Explanation of the Korean Script (Hunminjeongeum eonhaebon, 1459), which was destroyed by fire during the Korean War. WOODCRAFT TO ENGRAVING An assortment of tools is needed for engraving intricate letters onto hard woodblocks. The artist uses more than 30 items, including hammers, knives, and chisels, among others. Kim began his career as a woodworker. Born in 1957 to a farming family in Gimcheon, North Gyeongsang Province, he was the fifth child among five sons and a daughter. Kim barely finished elementary school and, upon his father’s passing when he was in sixth grade, he had to give up on attending middle school. Even at such an early age, he began learning woodworking at a local carpentry workshop in downtown Gimcheon. Kim said, “As a child, I loved creating things with my hands. There were trees everywhere in my village, so I could learn early how to work with wood.” Despite his disadvantageous circumstances, Kim yearned to continue his formal education so much that he worked during the day and studied at night, eventually passing the exams for middle and high school equivalency diplomas. After completing his compulsory military service, he moved to Seoul and attended a woodworking school near Tapgol Park in Jongno District. In 1983, his life took a dramatic turn when he visited an exhibition at the Dongduk Art Gallery showcasing the work of engraver Oh Ok-jin. Kim recalled, “I came across traditional calligraphy engraving for the first time in my life. I instantly fell in love with the restored woodblock of the map of old Seoul, the Comprehensive Map of the Capital (Suseon jeondo). Soon after, I wrapped up the work I had been doing and sought out the master in order to learn from him.” Kim’s teacher Oh Ok-jin was the first artisan to be named master calligraphy engraver after the craft became designated as National Intangible Heritage in 1996. In 2005, Kim became an assistant instructor for successor training and, eight years later, he succeeded his mentor as the second holder of the master craftsman title in recognition of his achievements in the restoration and transmission of heritage. While meeting Oh Ok-jin doubtlessly helped him steer his career from woodworking toward the traditional craft, it was calligrapher Park Chung-sik who led Kim onto the path of being a true craftsman. Kim said, “In about two years after beginning to learn the craft, I realized the importance of gaining a deeper understanding of classical Chinese characters. As the craft dealt with a written language, I believed I wouldn’t be able to refine my artistry without proper knowledge of the medium, including its characters and writings.” Having decided to learn calligraphy in earnest, Kim relocated to a neighborhood in the vicinity of his teacher’s studio in Bangbae-dong in southern Seoul. The small space he moved into has remained his workshop to this day. He also decided to continue his education by enrolling in the Chinese Language and Literature program at Korea National Open University in 1992. Embarking on this academic pursuit at such a mature age brought him an immense sense of joy in the learning process. The reality of having to juggle work and education meant it took him six years to finish the degree, and even now he continues to study Chinese characters. WOOD TREATMENT TO PRINTING The most fundamental aspect of calligraphic engraving is surely the act of carving itself, but it is in no way an exaggeration to say that the craft starts and ends with wood. Crucial here is what is known as chimok, or wood treatment, which involves procuring the right type of wood and subjecting it to a lengthy process of drying and aging. Kim explained, “For signboards, I handle various tree species depending on the use, including sand pear (Pyrus pyrifolia) and pine. For woodblocks used for printing books, on the other hand, the Sargent’s cherry (Prunus sargentii) is considered most suitable, as its wood provides a dense and moderately hard texture.” According to Kim, an analysis of the wood species used for the printing blocks of the Tripitaka Koreana (Palman daejanggyeong) revealed that over 70 percent of them were made using Sargent’s cherry wood. Engraved on 80,000 woodblocks in the mid-13th century, the Tripitaka Koreana is the oldest and most complete collection of Buddhist texts written in classical Chinese. But Kim added, “What is more important than the specific species of tree is the proper aging of the wood. A drying process of at least seven to eight years is required in order to obtain a well-stabilized wood grain, thus preventing deformation and ensuring long-lasting preservation.” Once the manuscript or drawing for engraving has been prepared, the wood is cut to the appropriate size and planed in order to achieve a smooth surface. Glue is then applied and the paper with the manuscript or drawing is attached onto the surface so it can be carved. For woodblocks intended for printing, the paper is turned over and attached face down. Next, the paper is gently rubbed with sandpaper in order to remove the outer layer which leaves only a thin inner layer completely attached to the wooden surface. Thereafter, a coat of oil is applied in order to turn the paper translucent, with the words or design on it clearly visible from the other side. This process is known as baeja, or “arrangement of letters.” According to Kim, the oil used in this process can be produced from any kind of seed, but it should be cold-pressed rather than pressed from roasted seeds. This is because oil from roasted seeds hardens into a cloudy film, making it difficult to carve the design. Tools such as different types of knives, chisels, and hammers are used in engraving, and, depending on the characteristics of the letters and drawings to be carved, appropriate tools are chosen for each project. The process of carving the mirror image of the manuscript onto the wooden block, as used in woodblock printing, is known as banseogak, or reverse imprint. Carving the letters as a direct representation of the original manuscript, such as those used in signboards hung on public buildings and Buddhist temples, is called jeongseogak, or standard imprint. Once the engraving process is complete, the end pieces are fitted onto either side of the block. The gap provided by the raised end pieces, which also serve as handles, allows ventilation in the woodcuts. Next, an appropriate concentration of ink is applied to the engraved surface covered with a sheet of paper, before a rolling pin is rolled over the paper in order for it to be pressed and imprinted. For signboards, the final step is to add coloring onto the engraved characters. REPRESENTING PENMANSHIP Kim assesses his work by imprinting the carved woodblock onto paper. Calligraphy engraving is the traditional craft of carving letters and drawings on woodblocks, which are then used to print books. Engraving techniques are broadly classified into intaglio and relief. Intaglio involves carving out the characters such that the incised images are depressed below the wooden surface. Relief engraving involves carving away the surrounding material, leaving the characters raised from the surface. Kim said, “Intaglio, which may seem like a simpler way of engraving letters, is actually the most challenging. The characters can always be made more legible by simply carving along the strokes.” He noted, however, that it is important for engravers to be able to represent the individual penmanship expressed in the strokes, some of which may look more powerful and others more relaxed depending on the strength applied to the brush when writing them. The strokes written with more strength applied should be carved deeper and wider in order for the characters to look as powerful as the calligrapher intended. The individual penmanship and style should remain identifiable even in engravings. Kim concluded that it is necessary both to be well-versed in chirography and to comprehend the content and flow of the text. Although Kim is surrounded by countless works bearing his name, he is not exempt from the common concerns held by traditional craftspeople about passing on their legacy. Kim said, “Because it is difficult to make a living solely from this craft, young people are often reluctant to learn it. Now, most learners are retirees who do it as a hobby. This situation is not something I can control, so I try to let it go and focus only on my work, just as I’ve done until now.” Kim displays humility when stating that he believes he has yet to produce a masterpiece. Though he maintains concerns about the future of the traditional craft of calligraphic engraving, the artisan has not lost hope. Lee Gi-sook / Writer Lee Min-hee / Photographer

#Woodblocks

LifeStyle

Koreans’ Spirit Shines in Seosan

On the Road 2023 AUTUMN

Koreans’ Spirit Shines in Seosan Situated on the western coast of Korea, Seosan boasts a unique topography created by extreme tidal waves, a rich cultural heritage, and reminders of the area’s importance to the defense of the nation. ⓒ Seosan City In September 2021, a promotional video for Seosan from the Feel the Rhythm of Korea series showed farm vehicles racing across a broad expanse of mud. Titled “Mud Max,” the video is a parody of the desert chase in the 2015 film Mad Max: Fury Road, directed by George Miller. The video went viral and Seosan, the city on the northwestern end of South Chungcheong Province, and its iconic surroundings became a popular tourist destination. Juxtaposed to Korea’s wealth of mountains and hills, the Seosan area is called Naepo (firth) for its large and small tidal gullies that extend far inland. They are the product of one of the most extreme tidal ranges in the world. Garorim Bay, which lies in northern Seosan, has an average tidal range of nearly five meters. The tide can rise up to a staggering height of eight meters. BOUNTY OF SEAFOOD Yudu Bridge connects Ung Island to the mainland. The 600-meter span disappears as the tide rises, making it a popular tourist destination. The bridge is scheduled for demolition in 2025 as part of an ecosystem restoration project. The tidal range of Seosan’s coastal waters has been the source of abundant marine resources. In 2016, the semi-enclosed inner Garorim Bay was designated as Korea’s first Marine Species Protected Area, and the 25th Marine Protected Area overall, for its rich biodiversity and pristine waters; in 2019, the area was expanded to 92 square kilometers. The place featured in the promotional video is the Ojiri Tidal Flats at Garorim Bay. When flooded at high tide, a variety of fish can be caught, including gizzard shad and rockfish; after the tide ebbs, the endless mud flats reveal the country’s largest cache of Ecklonia cava, a type of brown algae commonly known as paddle weed. Clams and cockles can also be found there. Fall is the season for small octopus, which was documented in the Geography Section of the Annals of King Sejong’s Reign (Sejong sillok jiriji), published in 1454. When Pope Francis visited Korea in 2014, he was served a bowl of small octopus porridge. He liked it so much that he had two more helpings. To watch fishers catch small octopus, head to Jungwangri to the south of the Ojiri Tidal Flats. They first look for air holes, made by octopi to breathe while submerged in the mud, and then dig them up. In the autumn, visitors can try their luck at Garorim Bay. At Ung Island, between Ojiri and Jungwangri, the bridge connecting the island with the mainland 600 meters away appears and disappears as the tide ebbs and flows. This so-called “parting of the sea” occurs twice a day. However, a new bridge is scheduled for completion in 2025, so you had better hurry if you want to witness this.   DEFENSIVE BULWARK Garorim Bay, which lies adjacent to Seosan, provides rich and varied marine resources to local residents. The abundance of the sea became a source of envy and avarice on land. The vast plain between the mountains to the east and the sea yielded bumper crops, making Seosan a frequent target of marauding pirates. Finally, in 1416, King Taejong (r. 1401-1418) decided to turn the Haemi region to the east of Mt. Dobi into a defensive bulwark. Seosan thus assumed the role of the country’s front defense line in addition to being one of its most important agricultural regions. Protracted fortification efforts began and the army unit in charge of central Korea was relocated to Haemi. Haemieupseong, a walled town in the heart of Haemi, about 12 kilometers outside of Seosan, housed the military high command. Its location on flat ground contrasted with other Joseon Dynasty fortifications built on hills and mountains. Haemieupseong is one of the best-preserved fortifications in the country. It contains relics related to the persecution of Catholics. To ward of enemies, thorny trifoliate orange trees were planted along the walls of the fortress, earning it the nickname Taengjaseong, or trifoliate orange fortress. Although part of the imposing walled town was torn down for urban development, it is among the best-preserved fortifications in the country along with Gochangeupseong in North Jeolla Province and Naganeupseong in South Jeolla Province. The South Gate and sections of the wall have remained intact, but other buildings have been reconstructed. The wall is five meters high and stretches approximately 1.8 kilometers. It has two sawtooth-like structures that jut out. They are called chi (雉), after the Chinese character for pheasant, a bird known to hide in the bushes when sensing danger. The extensions served as platforms for early warning and tactical defense. Inside the walled town, there is a pagoda tree estimated to be well over 300 years old. Surrounding it are the old provincial government office, a guest house where visiting government officials stayed, and a prison. All are reconstructions. Up a short hill to the left of the government office is Cheongheojeong, a pavilion that was rebuilt in 2011. It offers a panoramic view of the entire area. The pine forest nearby is the perfect place to take a leisurely stroll. Haemieupseong enabled the inland regions to enjoy extended peace. Celebrating this history, the 20th Seosan Haemieupseong Festival is scheduled for early October 2023, ending a four-year hiatus caused by the COVID-19 pandemic.   CULTURAL HERITAGE Seosan also boasts a rich cultural heritage that is in harmony with nature. Some of the most notable sites are Gaesim Temple, Ganwol Hermitage, an the Rock-carved Buddha Triad in Yonghyeon-ri. Daeungjeon is the main hall of Gaesim Temple. Designated as Treasure No. 143, it is known for its outstanding architectural aesthetics. Simgeondang, the monks’ residence, which beautifully blends with the natural surroundings, is also worth visiting. Built in 654 CE, toward the end of the Baekje Kingdom, Gaesim Temple is ensconced in a thick forest between Mt. Sangwang and Mt. Illak. Its history, spanning almost 1,400 years, and its aesthetic value make it one of the four major temples in South Chungcheong Province. Every step of the journey to Gaesim Temple is a beautiful experience. The Sinchang Reservoir, which you can see before reaching the temple, is the region’s main source of irrigation. On autumn mornings, it is enveloped in an auspicious shroud of fog that creates a mysterious aura for visitors. From the Iljumun (one pillar gate) at the front entrance, a 500-meter forest path leads to the temple. At the end of the path is a log split in half to cross over a rectangular pond. Next to it is a stone post engraved with the word “gyeong ji,” which means “looking at your ref lection in the water and examining your thoughts and reflecting on yourself.” This fits with the name of the temple, which means “opening your heart and washing away your worldly cares and desires.” The temple’s unpretentious simplicity makes it stand out. The Wooden Seated Amitabha Buddha is one of the oldest wooden Buddha statues in Korea, and the Daeungjeon, the main hall, retains its original appearance. Among the temple structures, the most striking is Simgeondang, the monks’ residence. It is believed to have been repaired around the same time as Daeungjeon, with the kitchen having been attached to the side at a later date. The pillars made of crooked logs are the most eye-catching feature of the building. Their natural shape has been preserved with minimal trimming. The pillars have also not been painted as was the custom, which allows hairline cracks to be visible, a testimony to their longevity. Blending harmoniously with the fall foliage, the residence adds an idyllic, cozy atmosphere to the temple’s dignified presence. The Rock-carved Buddha Triad in Yonghyeon-ri, carved on amassive bedrock at the foot of Mt. Gaya opposite Gaesim Temple, is similarly simple and unadorned. It wears a playful, inviting expression. What is particularly captivating is the different aura it exudes during the day. Since the carving is deep and the facial features distinct, the angle of the sun alters its appearance. The rock carving remained hidden for 1,500 years; it was only discovered in 1959 and designated a national treasure in 1962. In reference to the ancient kingdom that once occupied the area, it became known as the “Smile of Baekje.” The Rock-carved Buddha Triad was carved between the late 6th and early 7th centuries. Particularly captivating is the Buddha’s smile; it appears to change as sunlight hits the face at different angles. Another must-visit place in Seosan is Ganwol Hermitage, which was also featured in the “Mud Max” video. It is located on Ganwol Island, Seosan’s southernmost island, in Cheonsu Bay. Like on Ung Island, when the tide ebbs twice a day, a 30-meter-wide path is exposed, allowing visitors to reach the island on foot. During high tide, a boat can be used instead. The island is called yeonhwadae (lotus pedestal) because it resembles a lotus f lower when the road disappears under water. Whether at low or high tide, it is beautiful and picturesque, and at sunset, the hermitage feels even more serene and peaceful.   INDOMITABLE SPIRIT   The Seosan A-Region Seawall to the east of Ganwol Hermitage is worthy of note. Building the seawall to reclaim dry land was a massive undertaking because the extreme tidal range of the area wreaked havoc on its construction. Even boulders the size of cars would be swept away by the strong currents, with speeds exceeding eight meters per second. To close the last section of the wall, a 230,000- ton Swedish oil tanker, waiting to be scrapped in the Port of Ulsan, was sent on its last journey and deliberately sunk to block the troublesome tide. The rest of the construction was completed smoothly whenever the current was weak. After 15 years and three months, the project was finally completed in 1995. The seawall stretches 7.7 kilometers, creating more than 10,000 hectares of reclaimed farmland. At the time, this was equivalent to one percent of Korea’s total agricultural land. This vast farming area yields enough rice to feed 500,000 people for about a year. A trip to Seosan is not only a journey into its past, but an occasion to reflect on Korea today through its people who champion environmental sustainability while taking full advantage of the rich marine resources. Haemieupseong and the Buddhist cultural heritage exemplify the culture of valuing not just individual happiness but the well-being of the community as a whole. Finally, the area’s large-scale land reclamation is a testament to the dauntless spirit of the Korean people.     Kwon Ki-bong Writer Lee Min-hee Photographer

#Seosan

Squeezing in for Lasting Memories

Lifestyle 2023 AUTUMN

Squeezing in for Lasting Memories Despite having grown up with digital cameras and selfies, young Koreans regularly turn to something that first appeared nearly 100 years ago: photo booths that produce a strip of tiny analog pictures. Students and young adults often wrap up their day by taking “four cut” photos of special moments with friends. In the late 1990s, young Koreans embraced sticker photos. Couples and groups of three or four squeezed into photo booths on street corners to pose for the camera and wait for proof of their love and friendship. They tucked the images into their wallets and diaries or attached them to keychains. Sticker photos were so popular that many people scanned and posted them on Cyworld, a popular Korean social network service that far preceded Facebook and others. With the dawn of the new millennium, digital cameras and smartphones doomed the sticker photo craze. People could capture precious moments practically anywhere and anytime, and there was no longer a need to cram into photo booths, which first appeared in New York City in the 1920s. In short, digital replaced analog. But the disappearance of analog opened a way for its eventual rediscovery. In the eyes of Generation MZ—those born between 1981 and 2005 who came of age with computers and mobile gadgets—anything analog is synonymous with “new.” Sticker photos are in vogue, revived and labeled “life’s four cuts.” Cramming into a photo booth to produce a 4,000 won strip of four mini-size photos is now as much a part of an outing with friends as eating and drinking. Thus, MZers are known as “photopress” enthusiasts, fans of expressing themselves through photos. Korean trends change quickly, and the fads of MZers last less time than those of their predecessors. But so far, the popularity of photopress shows no sign of waning. COVID-19 pandemic-related restrictions caused a pause, but after they ended, demand surged again. The trend began before the pandemic, in neighborhoods known for their youthful ambience such as Hongdae and Apgujeong Rodeo Street in Seoul. MZers stood in long lines regardless of weather conditions, be it in the height of summer or the depth of winter. That caught the attention of the business community, and soon photo booths sprouted throughout Seoul and beyond. STEADY BUSINESS A Life4Cuts outlet in Sinchon, western Seoul, which is home to several universities. This studio has been fitted with digital signage displays, giving the impression of integrated digital technology.© LifeFourCuts Life4Cuts, operated by LKVENTURES, takes up the lion’s share of the photo booth market. Lee Ho-ik, the company’s CEO, got the idea from instant passport photo booths in Seoul subway stations. “It occurred to me that the sticker photo would appeal to MZers, who enjoy expressing themselves through photos and sharing a record of their activities on Instagram,” he explained. Customers line up for a sale celebrating the opening of a new Life4Cuts outlet on Myeongmul Street in Sinchon.© LifeFourCuts The cumulative number of sticker photos shot at Life4Cuts booths exceeded 100 million as of January 2023, five years after it launched, with 2 to 2.3 million people taking such photos on a monthly average. As of early this year, Life4Cuts had made inroads into markets in nine countries, including the UK, where a shop opened up in Soho in London’s West End. Under the brand name of “Life Four Cuts,” the company runs ads saying anyone can keep the most memorable moments in their life on a strip of mini-size photos. The four-cut photos business has some 40 photopress brands competing in Korea. There are thousands of locations throughout the nation, ranging from standalone photo booths to elaborate shops that contain multiple booths. Some companies have turned their sites into user-friendly playgrounds. Their locations typically contain not just the photo booths but also shelves packed with funny wigs, props, and accessories. Customers can download images from the photo machine using QR codes, so that they can later rearrange them online. It only takes about 30 seconds to print out each photo strip, which suits the taste of MZers who are enthusiastic about short memes. After making multiple photo strips, users often leave one on the wall of the shop. In addition to standalone machines, many photopress companies set up booths at pop-up shops and special exhibitions.   MIX-AND-MATCH SERVICES Photo booth outlets pack their shelves with funny wigs, props, and accessories for customers who want to assume an amusing persona for group pictures.© LifeFourCuts New innovations and technology are constantly introduced to gain a competitive edge. Enthusiastic photo booth customers regularly shop around different locations to shoot a variety of photo strips. Mono Mansion operates machines that print photos with edges decorated with a variety of colors and designs such as waves, cherry blossoms, or lush green pastures to make customers feel as if they are on a picnic. Movement Photo Booth provides a retrospective experience. It offers shots from many different angles, including the floor and the ceiling, which create images that recall Korean hip-hop music videos of the 1990s. Some brands aim for aesthetics. Photo booths by The Film provide a variety of paper for printing photos. Its transparent variety targets teens and twentysomethings, who enjoy decorating their diaries. At first, Life4Cuts only offered simple photos with basic edges, but now customers can use apps to create special edges on their own. Other brands follow a marketing strategy based on celebrity fandoms. They offer limited editions of edges featuring popular celebrities or characters, including images shot on their special days or anniversaries such as concerts and birthdays. Customers can download photos and videos taken during their photo booth sessions. They can then register the material on a platform and rearrange the photos in different frames. Entertainment agencies Big Hit Music and Source Music have also utilized photo booths in collaboration with Life4Cuts to screen applicants. Using a Life4Cuts app, male applicants used a Big Hit Music photo frame and female applicants used a Source Music photo frame when they submitted applications. Newer photo booths can also incorporate K-pop singers into frames, so customers can take photos with their favorite idols. There are also frames allowing customers to combine photos with their favorite animation characters such as Zanmang Loopy, popular with teens and twentysomethings who grew up watching the pink beaver. Kongsuni is loved by infants and toddlers, and other popular characters include those from the TV series Secret Jouju: The Goddess of the Stars; the mobile game Cookie Run: Kingdom; and the full range of Disney movies. It is difficult to predict how long the popularity of four-cut photos will continue. It will abate but resurface again as future generations discover the fast, enjoyable way to preserve memories. Regardless of how style and technology change, people will always want to keep fond memories of unforgettable moments and loved ones alive forever.   Kim Bo-ra Reporter, The Korea Economic Daily

#LifeFourCuts

A Taste of Happiness

In Love with Korea 2023 AUTUMN

A Taste of Happiness For Dominique Herqué, Korea is a country where dreams come true. He tills his land in the central region to produce wine in an all-natural way that reminds him of his childhood in France. Born in Alsace, France, Dominique Herqué ended a long career as an engineer to pursue his dream of making wine. After studying enology and working at an Alsace winery, he and his wife founded a winery named Little Alsace in Korea’s landlocked North Chungcheong Province. The little Alsace winery, where Dominique Herqué lives and works, is peaceful but not entirely tranquil. In the courtyard, swaying wind chimes tinkle nonstop, while birds, chickens, and geese form a constant background chorus. However, the sounds of nature, which some may consider noise, are music to his ears. The winery is nestled in Suanbo, a township in Chungju, North Chungcheong Province. Herqué and his wife, novelist Shin Ihyeon, say they fell in love with the place at first sight. A mountain looms in the rear and the front is unobstructed. The setting resembles Dominique’s hometown in Alsace, France’s easternmost wine region, where fertile soil and abundant sunshine provide perfect conditions for the numerous vineyards scattered throughout the rolling hills. Little Alsace mirrors those qualities, which comforts Herqué now that he is halfway around the world from where he grew up. “Arriving in Korea in 2017, I spent one whole year moving around the country to try and find the right place for farming and winemaking,” Herqué explains. Then a friend recommended a plot of land in central Korea, and he immediately knew that he had found the right place for him. LIKE A FOREST Little Alsace’s vineyard covers around 4,000 square meters. Herqué and Shin call it a “forest-like vineyard.” The first years were devoted to getting the soil ready. Herqué poured mounds of fallen leaves, sesame stalks, and five tons of rice bran into the soil. About three years later, the soil’s fertility reached a level he deemed “incredible.” The focus now is on maintaining the health of the land to ensure that their wine tastes right. Good wine comes from well-tended land, and good fruit comes from fertile soil. The winery has over ten varieties of grapevines and around 30 varieties of apple trees. They help create a diversity of flavors in the wine. The grapevines and apple trees are joined by over 100 other plant species, including peach, jujube, persimmon, fig, mulberry, kiwi, and lavender, among others. Parts of the trees are eventually used to make compost, enabling the couple to eschew herbicides or pesticides. The trees, along with chickens, geese, bees, earthworms, and diverse microorganisms thrive symbiotically, benefiting one another. All of this constitutes the terroir of Little Alsace. Winemakers use this French term, derived from terre, or land, and roughly translated as “sense of place,” in a way others may speak about an ecosystem. Believing that plants respond to the movement of planets, Herqué follows French farming methods that align with the planetary calendar instead of the 365-day solar calendar. “There are specific days which are good for fruit, roots, leaves, and flowers, respectively. We simply follow the wisdom of life accumulated through the centuries.” Herqué also considers the weather forecast when weighing the possible tasks of a particular day. For example, trimming the grass could expose fresh shoots to frost a few days later. On the other hand, if the grass stays untrimmed and heavy rain were to fall, insects would swarm in it. These are precious lessons learned from past failures. The overall work routine is the same, but no two years are identical in timing.   THE INVENTORY Natural red wine ages in an oak barrel at Little Alsace. The winery’s brand name is LESDOM, a portmanteau of the French plural article “les” and a diminutive form of Dominique, the winegrower’s given name. Delicious fruits play a crucial role in shaping the taste of the wine. They are grown by using sustainable farming methods without any harmful chemicals. The couple also raise geese and chickens, and take care of earthworms and tiny organisms in the soil. Little Alsace offers cidre, or cider in English, as well as rosé and red wine. While the cidre is made from fermented apples, the rosé is made only with grapes, and the red wine with a blend of grapes and sanmeoru (Vitis amurensis). The natural cidre made from apples is the flagship product of Little Alsace. The winery has 30 types of apple trees. The entire process, including fermentation, takes over a year. Herqué and Shin never use additives, not even yeast. The winery’s terroir and the couple’s dedication and hard work are encapsulated in a bottle of Little Alsace’s truly natural wine. The brand name, LESDOM, is a portmanteau of “les,” the plural form of the French article “le,” and the diminutive of Herqué’s given name, Dominique. It stands for the “Dominique Family.”   LIFE CHANGES Herqué checks the clarity of his red wine. He focuses on encapsulating the particular character and flavors of the land where the fruits are grown and preserves them in each bottle, rather than seeking a standardized taste. Shin Ihyeon joined the Korean literary community in 1994 with her novel A Room Good for Hiding. She and Herqué met in Paris in 1998. Back then, Herqué was a computer programmer in Paris, and Shin was fulfilling her dream of living in France for about a year.The first encounter was at a housewarming party by a Vietnamese couple they both knew. Shin and Herqué were immediately attracted to each other, and their romance began. Shin soon dropped her one-year plan, and five years later they got married. Afterward, Herqué was first relocated to Cambodia, where the couple stayed for six years, and then to Korea. Herqué recalls that the early days of working in Korea were not particularly happy ones. He was swamped with responsibilities. “I was so caught up in my work that I could not attend to the other aspects of my life. However, looking back, I also feel grateful. It was during this period that the dream of becoming a farmer took root in my heart.” His maternal grandfather, who dedicated his entire life to cultivating vineyards in Alsace, left equal parts of the land to his children. The vineyards were Herqué’s childhood playground, and during the harvest season, they became his workspace. He began to yearn for those days. To turn his dream into reality, Herqué returned to France and studied for two years at the CNEAC (Centre National d’Enseignement Agricole par Correspondance) agricultural school before spending a year training at a wine-making facility. At first, he set his mind on cultivating grapes in France but no location satisfied him. Shin was also hesitating; in France, she had never lived outside of Paris, and so she expressed, for the first time, worries about living in a foreign country. “She suggested going to Korea, since there was no place that produced cidre in the traditional European way, allowing us to venture into new territory. I was happy just to be able to make wine,” Dominique recalls. And so the pair came back to Korea and Little Alsace was born, quenching Herqué’s yearning for the past. “That longing turned into a dream, and it was in Korea that this dream eventually came true.” Farming helped him better understand Korea, a country he had little knowledge of before he met his wife. Indeed, he is truly grateful to his adopted home for giving him the opportunity to fulfill his dreams. NEW WORKS Little Alsace produces some 10,000 bottles annually. They are sold through the winery’s website and wine-tasting events. Visitors to the vineyard are welcome to sample the offerings, which often leads to sales. The prices for a bottle range from 32,000 to 48,000 won. Last year, a new building for the company’s operations was completed. There is more space than needed, so the couple plans to use part of it to share information on ecological farming methods and natural wine-making techniques, as well as to hold exhibitions related to alcoholic beverages and agriculture. Herqué thinks that his wife is best suited to take the lead in those activities. “Just the thought of this space being used in these ways makes me happy.” As soon as the sun rises, Herqué steps onto his land to greet its many living things. He stays inside while the sunshine is too strong but goes out again once the heat subsides to till the land until the last sliver of sun disappears. Recently, he began to use ropes to ensure the grapevine branches grow upwards instead of drooping. This job is physically demanding because the vines are young and can be compared to temperamental teenagers. But he often finds himself smiling as he faces new challenges. A smile reflecting the happiness he has found in Korea. Park Mi-kyeong WriterHan Jung-hyun Photographer

#Little Alsace

Research, Rethink, Reuse: The Mission of WearAgain Lab

Greener Pastures 2023 AUTUMN

Research, Rethink, Reuse: The Mission of WearAgain Lab The fashion industry, whose virtue is the pursuit of newness, encourages endless production and consumption, both of which have a significant impact on the climate. It is now crucial for everyone to rethink how to maintain a fashion lifestyle that keeps both humans and the Earth healthy. WearAgain Lab is a nonprofit start-up that seeks to raise awareness about the fashion industry’s harmful impact on the environment and reduce apparel waste.© WearAgain Lab Walking dawn shopping streets, one can easily be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of clothes on sale in every store, wondering who buys them all, and when. Established fast fashion brands release ever-new collections week after week, particularly in major cities, in order to drive fashion trends. Every season, new clothes are manufactured on an enormous scale. As a result, our closets may be full of clothes, but at least once every season we still end up asking ourselves, “Why don’t I have anything to wear?” ENCOURAGING ZERO WASTE FASHION People who like trying out new outf its but are concerned about the fashion industry’s environmental impact, and who no longer want to be surrounded by clothes that are hardly worn but too good to throw out, should check out WearAgain Lab. The nonprofit zero-waste fashion start-up and research center studies numerous aspects of the fashion industry and practices the value of reuse through wearing things again. WearAgain Lab’s main activity is sponsoring “21% Parties” where people swap second-hand clothing with the aim of promoting the recirculation of resources. The parties’ name comes from the percentage of an average person’s clothing that ends up unworn and practically abandoned. Participants must bring a share of their own unworn clothes in order to be able to exchange them with those brought by others. A dress someone kept for several years hoping they would lose enough weight to wear it, an accessory that doesn’t match with anything, a pair of shoes bought on impulse that doesn’t go with the rest of the wardrobe, or a piece of clothing that holds vivid memories but is no longer worn. These are the type of items that can be brought to 21% Parties. Instead of a price tag, each piece of clothing has a Goodbye & Hello tag containing a brief note from the owner about the item; this adds an element of fun and entertainment. The process of exchange offered at these parties represents an interesting experiment in which users browse through someone else’s past and the history attached to their clothing. REUSE RATHER THAN RECYCLING F Goodbye & Hello tag, which allows users to tell the stories behind the clothing they bring to a 21% Party.© WearAgain Lab According to statistics released by the Ministry of Environment in 2021 on the amount of waste produced and processed nationwide, recyclable waste included 118,000 tons of scrap clothing. When including both recyclable scrap fibers and scrap fibers thrown out along with regular household waste, the total figure increased to 412,000 tons. The crux of the issue is that on any given day, too much clothing is being manufactured and discarded throughout the world. Innovation is required to continue being able to offer newness while helping to reduce the mountains of textile waste. WearAgain Lab emphasizes neither upcycling nor recycling but reuse. While upcycling and recycling don’t involve discarding anything, they still result in the consumption of resources. Furthermore, it is functionally impossible to either recycle or upcycle the enormous amount of clothing in people’s closets worldwide. WearAgain Lab suggests that the way forward is to wear clothing that has already been manufactured for as long as possible, while also discarding as little clothing as possible. The start-up is also devoted to reducing apparel waste by revitalizing the culture of second-hand fashion. WEARAGAIN LAB'S RESEARCH 21% Parties, WearAgain Lab’s main activity, is both a marketplace where users exchange second-hand clothing and a forum that promotes sustainable fashion culture to consumers accustomed to mainstream fashion. Participants receive the same number of exchange tickets as the items of clothing they bring, which they can use to trade for other garments.© WearAgain Lab The merits of second-hand fashion are endless, but the biggest joy is found in coming across a delightful and unexpected piece of clothing. There are certain boundaries that shoppers adhere to, particularly when shopping for fashion. However, second-hand fashion markets lead them to new neighborhoods and encourage them to experiment with new tastes, brands, and styles. By giving up the obsession with the latest fashion trends, one can also achieve a sense of timelessness. Instead of opting for in-season items that cannot be worn without feeling self-conscious a year or two down the road, people can express their own style using a combination of wit and sense. This is where a boring fashion life becomes enriched. At 21% Parties, where every transaction occurs through the exchange of clothing, one may discover unusual or delightful garments or accessories and try on clothes without qualms, and there is no sense of guilt over the environment. A special relationship develops when participants see their clothes being tried on by someone else. Everybody shares and exchanges their clothing, and little by little, a worrisome future turns into a hopeful one. That said, the areas researched by WearAgain Lab are largely neglected by the wider fashion industry. The environmental start-up doesn’t just pursue an emotional experience. Items of clothing that would otherwise be discarded see their lives extended, and this in itself holds meaning. The longer the lifecycle of a piece of clothing, the less energy generated during its disposal, which means there is no increase in either water usage or carbon emissions. This is a well-known but often forgotten or ignored fact. WearAgain Lab makes this reality undeniable through the presentation of clear figures. In April, a 21% Party was held for ten days, with a total of 831 participants. Eighteen teams participated nationwide, and 2,908 pieces of clothing were collected, of which 2,239 were exchanged. This overall process had the equivalent effect of saving 652,601 liters of water and 17,263 kilograms of carbon. Such significant, specific figures are a wake-up call that illustrate the tangible implications of WearAgain Lab’s research. MOVEMENT FOR SUSTAINABILITY A participant writing on a Goodbye & Hello tag. Information about the clothing, such as when the item was purchased and how many times it has been worn, can be written on the tag, along with a farewell message to the clothing and a greeting to the new owner.© WearAgain Lab Through its 21% Parties, WearAgain Lab strives to encourage changes in how people consume fashion while also affecting change through policies and systems. The start-up has launched a campaign to pass a law that bans fashion companies from destroying inventories and returned goods. The initiative represents a concrete and influential move that sends a warning to fashion companies that throw away unsold inventory and only care about their brand image. In 2021, a KBS program looking into environmental issues, titled There Is No Earth for Clothing, surveyed the seven Korean fashion companies with the highest revenues. It revealed that four of them burned unsold stock. One of the seven companies responded that they would not release information about their practice as it was deemed confidential, and another simply refused to respond at all. Only one company said that they did not destroy their unsold clothing. There is irony in the fact that, on the one hand, people express concern for the environment by sharing and re-wearing second-hand clothing, while, on the other hand, companies engage in energy- and labor-wasting activities that harm the environment. In order to eradicate such irrational practices at the policy level, WearAgain Lab embarked on an in-depth study in January of this year, and three months later, they delivered a petition with 1,363 signatures to National Assembly Member Jang Hye-young demanding the adoption of a law called the Act on the Prohibition of Discarding Inventory and Returned Goods. Everyone is affected by climate issues, regardless of how much attention one pays to fashion or, indeed, how much joy one derives from it. Even though clothing may be advertised as having been manufactured sustainably, it is important to carefully consider whether this so-called sustainability is, in fact, driving the Earth to extinction. Fashion producers and consumers must adopt new methods and habits to enable people to continue enjoying new fashion, but in ways that are truly sustainable and safeguard the environment. Second-hand fashion may indeed provide the solution, because while fashion trends are often short-lived, second-hand fashion itself never goes out of style. Yoo Da-mi Editor

#WearAgain Lab

Reinventing a Medium

An Ordinary Day 2023 AUTUMN

Reinventing a Medium Magazine editor-in-chief Kim Tae-kyung is always faced with nearing deadlines. She never stops thinking about how to improve operations but keeps an eye on a healthy work-life balance, not allowing work to consume her. Kim Tae-kyung is the creator and editor-in-chief of Urbänlike, a magazine that focuses on city lifestyle and fashion. Kim Tae-kyung regularly awakens well before dawn. In the first 30 minutes, she greets her dog, Bany; brushes her teeth; has lukewarm apple cider vinegar and probiotics; stretches; and meditates. Then she begins what she considers the most important part of her predawn routine: reflecting on the events of the previous day, setting goals for the new one, and submitting her thoughts to her journal. This routine took shape about five years ago, when she was a night owl, going to bed and waking up late. Her health was deteriorating, so she decided to try being an early riser. “My quality of life changed, and everything felt somehow richer,” she recalls. After breakfast—a sliced apple with peanut butter, two boiled eggs, one tomato, and either nut or almond soy milk—Kim is ready to begin her tasks as editor-in-chief of Urbänlike, a self-described “urban archive magazine” that she founded in 2013. BREAKING THE MOLDS Each issue of Urbänlike covers a single topic. The magazine is published only twice a year, making each issue more of a keepsake than a monthly publication. Kim’s publication is an outlier. Technically a magazine, Urbänlike is more like a “mook.” Outwardly, it resembles a magazine, but it is intended to have the shelf life of a book, as it is only published twice a year. The volume and size of each issue, and even the paper type used for printing, change in accordance with the theme. Consequently, even past issues of the magazine generate steady sales, like popular books. Kim is a nonconformist in terms of how she manages herself and steers operations. She goes to her Seoul office only four days a week and limits herself to working six or seven hours. She simply believes that one’s ability to fully concentrate diminishes after that. By around 4 p.m., Kim is gone. Although Kim says that she does not push herself too hard—“I don’t pour my all into it”—she commits many hours to her job. “If I divide up my week, I’m working on my body for four days to get productive results, and on the mental part, where I’m inspired or studying, for three days,” she says. An office day starts with listening to a music playlist that suits her mood. Then she organizes her schedule and catches up with email, the news, and social media to take the pulse of trends. The most time-consuming task is giving directions regarding the content of each issue. Since the writers are not at the office, communication is done remotely or via email.   LUCKY BREAK The number of pages, size, paper type, cover design, and feel are different for every issue, and determined by its theme. This is why, no matter how many magazines Kim produces, the process feels new every time   It was in her first year of college when Kim took her first step into the world of magazines, assisting veteran reporters and working on street fashion pieces of her own. In 1998, her senior year, the Asian financial crisis triggered layoffs and dashed hopes of new college graduates. Nevertheless, Kim beat the odds. A magazine job offer came her way, and she jumped at it, forgoing her real dream of becoming a TV producer. “Of course, I had no idea at the time that I would end up staying.” Numerous magazine gigs followed until 2009, when Kim went to Urban Books, a publishing group focusing on urban lifestyle. Four years later, she launched Urbänlike, entering the market for monthly magazines. The focus was on urban fashion and lifestyle. But by 2016, Kim wanted to escape the monthly deadlines and decided to adopt a format she had conceived in her first year in college: publishing only twice a year and focusing on one topic per issue. “I think my idea was: ‘What can I actually do?’ The only way forward was the collectible. Selectivity plus focus was the answer,” she says. The switch removed the intensity of monthly deadlines and fit the reality of declining magazine sales and advertisers transitioning to websites. Readers appreciated the innovative concept, validating the decision to change. Past topics include “Hotel,” “Work from Home,” “Publishing House,” “Stationery,” “Dining,” and “Bowls.”   LOOSE STRUCTURE Constantly reevaluating her day-to-day routine, Kim began to reorganize work even before the COVID-19 pandemic upended office life. “It felt as though I was monitoring all the reporters at their desks, and coming into the office every day just didn’t seem efficient. None of these things were aligned with the reasons I created the company in the first place, so I shut it down,” she explains. Now, she hires freelance specialists instead of having permanent staff who may not always be suited to a particular topic. “This means I don’t have to spend energy on navigating interpersonal issues, so I can just concentrate on work.” Last year, she hired two assistants, freeing up more of her time to focus on planning and design. “I’m not a particularly good writer or interviewer, and I don’t necessarily have a ton of knowledge, either; I’m kind of middling on all fronts,” Kim admits. “For a while, I worried that I really needed to be an expert on everything. But then I realized that I just need to find people who are good at what they do and let them do it, just like I don’t need to make bowls myself to publish a book about bowls.” Project editors change with each issue, but aside from Kim, one specific photographer and two designers are permanent team members. They have been with her for a full decade now and shared her vision from the beginning. Along the way, the identity of Urbänlike has become clearer than ever. “I thought that planning each issue needed to be done as a group, together with my colleagues. Then again, I’m the one who determines the brand identity. Because in the end, it goes in the direction I want it to go. So once the theme is chosen, I receive detailed proposals built around it and hand out different roles.”   FLUID ROUTINE Besides shepherding her staff, Kim devotes large chunks of time to thinking about potential themes of future issues. “The most effective way is to travel to another city, because it allows you to objectively see the content you want to create, when you are one step away from your daily life. Of course, I am also inspired by other factors but they are just influencing me to a certain degree, and the most important thing is my own vision,” Kim says. Every summer and winter, Kim works in different cities. “No matter where I am, I just need my laptop and I am all set. I try to maintain a state where I can stop working at any time.” That is another way of her saying: “I will never settle and am always ready to change.” There are also times when you stop and ask yourself, “Why am I still doing this, and how should I proceed?” “Back when I worked for other magazines, the pressure was just too much sometimes. I think that is why, ever since I started working on my own projects, I have been trying to take better care of myself so that I don’t burn out,” Kim says. “I think anxiety is an inevitable aspect of modern society. Such feelings are natural, but I try to think positively and not to let them overwhelm me. I don’t think about past regrets or try to predict the future. If I stay focused on the present and try to do my best in this moment, I think I will achieve my goals in the end.”   NEW GOALS Kim wants to take Urbänlike to foreign markets. That has spurred her presence at international book fairs. She is also thinking a lot about bookmaking itself. “Making a book is much more difficult and complicated than making a cup, but the cost-performance ratio is much higher for a cup. I need to find a truly efficient way to do the work, and I also want my business to succeed. I don’t think the magazine industry’s heyday will return, but I want to find something else. This sort of thing is always on my mind, because when I find myself saying, ‘I’m bored of this too now,’ or ‘This feels the same as everything else,’ I want to be able to transform without hesitation.” Kim’s next goal is to create a library similar to one that she visited in Helsinki, Finland. “There were kids on skateboards and some people lying on the grass, reading, and the whole place felt like a fun, sensory space, like a playground. I want to create a space like that. I buy tons of books whenever I travel, but what is the point of keeping them for myself? I want to create a library like that close to Seoul and live as a library grandma, like the volunteer senior citizens I saw at that library in Helsinki.” Urbänlike was conceived around the question, “How can we eat well and live well in the city?” “What I am aiming for is something in the middle. I think there is a lack of concern for the middle class, and there isn’t much content for them about the fundamental things in life. People in the middle don’t have a voice, and they don’t have much choice, so I’m trying to fill that void.” Filling in the middle can be a good way to live in the city. Every day at dawn, in the solitude of her own time, Kim is getting closer to reaching this goal. For herself, and in her own way.   Hwang Kyung-shin WriterHan Jung-hyun Photographer

#Urbänlike

SUBSCRIPTION

You can check the amount by country and apply for a subscription.

Subscription Request

전체메뉴

전체메뉴 닫기