Questions and Answers
Why are you so inspired by Korean folk paintings and embroidery?
This is a personally mysterious question that I try to answer. The answer lies somewhere n my childhood of course...
My parents came from Korea to Morningside Heights, New York City in the early 1960s to further their medical studies. I was the first in my family to be born in the US, and eventually we were the first Korean Americans to live in our all white suburbs on Long Island. The Munsters and the Adams Family were among my favorite shows because they showed how odd your family could be compared to what seemed "normal". I am sure many children of immigrants share this experience. The strange smells, foods in the fridge, impossible to comprehend stories of poverty, hunger, suffering, and death in a faraway place perhaps something like the dusty barren land on the popular show M*A*S*H which always gave me bad feelings. Of course there was the cultural and language barrier between me, my parents and everyone Korean. My private world pretty much in tact which I think was a good thing. Even going to church was even more comical cause I understood nothing that was ever said.
From the age of 6 months old til age 4, I was raised by a Korean grandmother who spoke no English. We learned English watching Sesame Street on TV. Later, we moved to a typical Long Island suburban home aI went to Korean school on Saturday. My language skills did not progress because I was a middle schooler in a class with 3 year old and they knew a lot more Korean than I did. But the main excitement was the traditional dance class where I was given an awe-inspiring bright magenta pink feathered fan. There were many outrageously colorful Korean cultural items in my home that fascinated me. We had a large embroidery screen with cranes and pine trees, a ebony dish or two carp, a statuesque Korean doll playing traditional drums, my traditional baby clothes, a red embroidered purse with white flowers, an electric green embroidered blanket, a wooden carved horse, and Korean traditional hanbok or dress worn by my grandmother and aunt at her wedding.
Many years later while living in Paris, I went to the first ever Korean art exhibit. It was folk art at the Musee Guimet showcasing the personal collection of the famous post-war contemporary artist Lee Ufan. I was nervous and eager to see what the paintings would look like, Would they be impressive as all the Japanese art I had been seeing all my life? It was a modest exhibit. The pieces painted probably on mulberry paper, seemed fragile, faded, drab in color, small. Some paintings were quite unskilled, but revealed a bizarre but intensely surreal imagination and a carefree spirit.
Years later, I was living in a rural CT town with two young children. I ordered a newly published Korean folk art book. As I opened the pages, I was astonished to suddenly see a happy and optimistic time in my childhood when all my parent's Korean immigrant friends and family hanging out in my backyard swimming pool making Korean BBQ, cooking the fish they had caught, women endlessly cutting up fruit and dads playing flower cards joking and knee slapping. People sand, forcing offspring to play instruments, telling jokes. In my memory, I saw a village where these paintings made sense, intermingled with my childish capacity for fun including many guinea pigs, cats, willow, mimosa and cherry trees, fishing, camping trips.
The faded folk art paintings tell me to make them alive again. The tigers, turtles, deer cats, magpie want me to play with them. The people who appreciated these paintings were my ancestors who lived the the longest peaceful dynastic in world history. Mostly agrarian and illiterate these people took pleasure in the sweet mundane, the basic things a happy marriage, abundance, offspring, community, good health and a long life.
History has been hard on Korean people these last few generations. What can I do to honor all the people who do countless acts of courage, kindness and generosity everyday. I want to say it's okay to enjoy life and be playful. Even if your childhood was so damaged, maybe you can find things like flowers, trees, birds, animals, and gardens again.
This is a personally mysterious question that I try to answer. The answer lies somewhere n my childhood of course...
My parents came from Korea to Morningside Heights, New York City in the early 1960s to further their medical studies. I was the first in my family to be born in the US, and eventually we were the first Korean Americans to live in our all white suburbs on Long Island. The Munsters and the Adams Family were among my favorite shows because they showed how odd your family could be compared to what seemed "normal". I am sure many children of immigrants share this experience. The strange smells, foods in the fridge, impossible to comprehend stories of poverty, hunger, suffering, and death in a faraway place perhaps something like the dusty barren land on the popular show M*A*S*H which always gave me bad feelings. Of course there was the cultural and language barrier between me, my parents and everyone Korean. My private world pretty much in tact which I think was a good thing. Even going to church was even more comical cause I understood nothing that was ever said.
From the age of 6 months old til age 4, I was raised by a Korean grandmother who spoke no English. We learned English watching Sesame Street on TV. Later, we moved to a typical Long Island suburban home aI went to Korean school on Saturday. My language skills did not progress because I was a middle schooler in a class with 3 year old and they knew a lot more Korean than I did. But the main excitement was the traditional dance class where I was given an awe-inspiring bright magenta pink feathered fan. There were many outrageously colorful Korean cultural items in my home that fascinated me. We had a large embroidery screen with cranes and pine trees, a ebony dish or two carp, a statuesque Korean doll playing traditional drums, my traditional baby clothes, a red embroidered purse with white flowers, an electric green embroidered blanket, a wooden carved horse, and Korean traditional hanbok or dress worn by my grandmother and aunt at her wedding.
Many years later while living in Paris, I went to the first ever Korean art exhibit. It was folk art at the Musee Guimet showcasing the personal collection of the famous post-war contemporary artist Lee Ufan. I was nervous and eager to see what the paintings would look like, Would they be impressive as all the Japanese art I had been seeing all my life? It was a modest exhibit. The pieces painted probably on mulberry paper, seemed fragile, faded, drab in color, small. Some paintings were quite unskilled, but revealed a bizarre but intensely surreal imagination and a carefree spirit.
Years later, I was living in a rural CT town with two young children. I ordered a newly published Korean folk art book. As I opened the pages, I was astonished to suddenly see a happy and optimistic time in my childhood when all my parent's Korean immigrant friends and family hanging out in my backyard swimming pool making Korean BBQ, cooking the fish they had caught, women endlessly cutting up fruit and dads playing flower cards joking and knee slapping. People sand, forcing offspring to play instruments, telling jokes. In my memory, I saw a village where these paintings made sense, intermingled with my childish capacity for fun including many guinea pigs, cats, willow, mimosa and cherry trees, fishing, camping trips.
The faded folk art paintings tell me to make them alive again. The tigers, turtles, deer cats, magpie want me to play with them. The people who appreciated these paintings were my ancestors who lived the the longest peaceful dynastic in world history. Mostly agrarian and illiterate these people took pleasure in the sweet mundane, the basic things a happy marriage, abundance, offspring, community, good health and a long life.
History has been hard on Korean people these last few generations. What can I do to honor all the people who do countless acts of courage, kindness and generosity everyday. I want to say it's okay to enjoy life and be playful. Even if your childhood was so damaged, maybe you can find things like flowers, trees, birds, animals, and gardens again.