Petroglyphs are 5,000-year-old photos in eyes of veteran documentarian

Kang Woon-gu's "Bangudae, Korea" (2019) captures the intriguing Neolithic Age petroglyphs in Ulsan that ignited his three-year expedition across 30 sites in eight Asian countries, including Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Russia, Mongolia and China, as he sought to delve deeper into the origins and meanings behind these ancient rock carvings. Courtesy of the artist, Museum Hanmi

It all started with an image of a standing whale — or, to be more precise, a 7,000-year-old rock carving portraying the sea giant in an upright position.

Five decades ago, the Neolithic Age petroglyphs of swarming whales were discovered in Bangudae in southeastern coastal city of Ulsan, becoming the oldest rock engravings ever found on the Korean Peninsula.

After seeing the petroglyphs making headlines, Kang Woon-gu, a photojournalist in his early 30s at the time, was captivated by one question: Why on earth were these marine giants depicted in an upright stance?

"Whales move horizontally in the waters and are therefore typically depicted in that manner, but for some reason, here, these creatures were all portrayed standing vertically. This aspect made the scene appear remarkably surreal," recalled the 82-year-old.

But no one seemed to share his enthusiasm for that particular trivia. There were publications and academic debates on the detailed numbers and types of the engraved motifs, as well as their historic significance, but no mention of the whales’ rather odd position.

Several years later, Kang quit his job in news media and went on to become a noted documentarian of modern Korea, capturing everything from the disappearing countryside amid breakneck economic growth to portraits of cultural icons such as painter Chang Uc-chin and novelist Park Kyung-ni.

Through the years, his curiosity about the standing whale remained unaddressed. It was in 2017 that the veteran photographer decided to embark on a personal quest to seek the answer on his own.

Kang Woon-gu's "Saimaluu Tash, Kyrgyzstan" (2018) / Courtesy of the artist, Museum Hanmi

His initial fascination with the Bangudae petroglyphs quickly evolved into a more extensive investigation into the "why and what" behind the conscious choices made by people in the distant past to carve certain images on the rock canvas. In essence, it became something more than just about the animal engravings; it became an exploration of the creators behind the rock art.

And this meant that he needed to examine a wider variety of surviving samples created beyond Korea.

Kang’s investigation turned into a three-year-long petroglyph hunting expedition spanning 30 sites across eight countries in Asia, including Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Russia, Mongolia and China.

During the journey, he decided to narrow his photographic focus to rock carvings of human figures, primarily those produced in the Bronze Age. After all, what better way to learn about the lives of individuals from five millennia ago than to take a glimpse into their own open-air visual diaries?

Kang Woon-gu's "Saimaluu Tash, Kyrgyzstan" (2018) / Courtesy of the artist, Museum Hanmi

Kang Woon-gu's "Moinak, Kazakhstan" (2018) / Courtesy of the artist, Museum Hanmi

“I must have ‘met’ at least a thousand of these people throughout my trip,” he said at Museum Hanmi in central Seoul, where over 150 of his pictorial encounters that transcend time and space have been put on display for the exhibition, “Petroglyph or Photograph.”

In the eyes of the veteran documentarian, petroglyphs are "ancient documentary photographs" capturing the prehistoric lives across the lush expanses of Central and East Asia dotted with moraines and cliffs.

When the nomads, herders and settlers came across stones covered with a dark patina — a thin surface crust rich in magnesium and iron — they would scrape or chip away the rock varnish to expose the lighter surface underneath, turning them into stick figures and animals.

Another favored natural canvas was colossal red basalt rocks, especially in present-day China's Xinjiang region.

Kang Woon-gu's "Kalbak-Tash, Russia" (2019) / Courtesy of the artist, Museum Hanmi

Kang Woon-gu's " Tamgaly and Tanbaly, Kazakhstan" (2017) / Courtesy of the artist, Museum Hanmi

Kang Woon-gu's " Tamgaly and Tanbaly, Kazakhstan" (2017) / Courtesy of the artist, Museum Hanmi

The various shapes carved into these stones, many of which have eroded over the millennia, can be quite difficult to see in person, especially due to the glaring light of high noon.

However, Kang's high-contrast, black-and-white images provide the optimal viewing experience.

The crisp photos of rock carvings on display trace the ancient lives from birth to demise — childbirth, hunting, festivities, rituals, tribal wars and death. In addition to humans and beasts, solar deities or shamans make frequent appearances, characterized by their distinctly shaped heads or wardrobe.

“As I continued my petroglyph hunting, I came to realize that it’s incorrect to assume that every single one of them was produced for some ritualistic purpose or in an attempt to pray for prosperity and fertility,” he noted.

“Rather, a majority of them were simply the nomadic individuals’ artistic modes of self-expression or visual records of the things they saw and experienced. That’s why I consider them more as an ancient picture diary or a documentary photograph.”

Although there are still many more petroglyph sites left in the world, after three years of investigation, Kang decided that his mission has been accomplished. Why? Because he felt he found an answer to the initial question that prompted his quest.

Kang Woon-gu's "Kangjiashimenzi, China" (2019) / Courtesy of the artist, Museum Hanmi

“The whales in Bangudae weren’t the only marine mammals depicted vertically. In other petroglyph sites, like the ones in Russia’s Belomorsk, these animals were also swimming in an upright stance. On the other hand, dying ocean creatures dragged by harpoons were portrayed horizontally,” he said.

“Meanwhile, it was the opposite case for four-legged land mammals — vertical meant dead and horizontal meant alive.”

It dawned on him that prehistoric people possessed a distinctive cognitive system to visually distinguish between life and death.

Kang’s hypothesis is, as he admitted, not an academically verified one. But it’s still an endearing conclusion reached by an artist who has been fueled entirely by his decades-long curiosity. And that alone is an admirable feat, indeed.

“Petroglyph or Photograph” runs through March 17 at Museum Hanmi.