Constancy and change in tradition

By Kim Ji-myung

In early April, some 20 artisans of traditional Korean crafts will board a plane for Italy. Many of them are holders of the government’s Intangible Cultural Heritage title. Most have spent their lives doing the same old-fashioned handicrafts ― including ceramics, lacquer coating, wood joinery, mother-of-pearl inlay, rice paper making and hanbok clothing making.

They are not on an ordinary group tour, but are flying to the other side of the globe to see their own artworks displayed at the International Exhibition in Milan. These selected master artists will also view other handicraft masterpieces at museums in Italy during their stay.

Although some of these Korean artisans have already been exposed to schools and training opportunities abroad, most have done little but learning and practicing their manual skills since they were very young.

It has not been long since “traditional Korean” crafts produced by these skilled artisans were first recognized as national treasures by our government and the general public.

Belonging to the hereditary class of “middle people” during the Joseon Kingdom (1392-1910), these technical specialists lived in the western part of the capital near Gyeongbok Palace, the main palace of the time. Their primary job was producing high-quality artifacts for the royal family and the upper-classes.

They used only the top-quality materials produced across the country, such as ramie, silk and leather. Their best products were not only sold to those living in the capital, but these renowned suppliers to the court created exquisite masterpieces which were sought-after in provincial towns and well-recognized in neighboring countries. Korean paperwork, ceramic pieces and lacquerware with mother-of-pearl inlays are still the most popular items for collectors.

Contrary to this recognition, Korean people themselves had little awareness of their own handicraft traditions until recently. Two things seem to have brought changes to this attitude.

The most direct impact came in 1961 when the government launched its Intangible Cultural Heritage system, a formal preservation program that supports the continuance of selected types of skills. Not only the manual skill holders but performing artists and wine and food specialists began to be designated and financially supported.

It includes a training system, thanks to which the title-holders can transfer their knowhow to following generations. Artisans of horse-hair headgear and under-caps for men can hardly make ends meet without the formal support of this system.

Another factor that refreshed the value of traditional handicrafts came from efforts to modernize the products made by the artisans themselves, and also by some business-minded designers. Over the past decade, exhibitions of modernized products created by those skill-holders and their trainees have suggested new potential for the future.

For example, an arrowhead with feathers makes an impressive piece of art when framed for wall hanging. People now know that lacquered furniture has a high-quality varnish that is natural, chemical-free and harmless to the human body. People re-discover a natural and healthy core value in cotton, ramie, hemp, silk and traditional mulberry paper.

The Milan exhibition showcasing the essence of Korean traditional crafts is the first such in Europe, bringing many types of Korean daily-life items to Western attention. One exception to this is the silk flower works, which normally decorated festive occasions at the royal palace.

"Constancy and Change” is the theme of the show. A popular book on education was published under the same title at Harvard in 1980, being a seminal thought-provoking work on what items need to be preserved and which need to be adapted and modified.

Like the pendulum of a clock, ordinary Koreans have swayed between the traditional and modern in their preferences, whether for housing, food, clothes, child-education, family relations or popular culture entertainments.

Should we stick to our traditions and preserve them, by restoring old structures that once existed near the King Sejong and Admiral Yi Sun-sin statues at Gwanghwamun Plaza, for example? Or, for the convenience of citizens and traffic-flow, is it acceptable to move a monumental building if needed? Should Korean restaurants be required to be included at fancy hotels even though they operate at steep losses?

A symbolic visual testimony to this typical problem in Seoul ― “a city of old and new” ― are the old and new Seoul Metropolitan Government buildings.

A nation and its people are identified by their tangible and intangible heritage, which are handed down both at home and in public society. But how can we maintain this sort of identity while so rapidly developing as a leading modern economy?

The Milan exhibition could be a valuable litmus-test to sound-out what outside observers see in our traditions presented with these exquisite selections, based on the strictly preserved techniques and modernized designs. We might get some insights on what is worth preserving and how to do so appealingly.

The writer is the chairwoman of the Korea Heritage Education Institute (K*Heritage). Her email address is Heritagekorea21@gmail.com.