The writing on the wall

A street view in the early 1900s Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

In the past (late 19th and early 20th centuries), Western visitors often described the homes of average Korean citizens as dingy, rough and unappealing. They were devoid of gardens, decorations and even paint.

Isabella Bird Bishop, an Englishwoman who traveled extensively throughout the peninsula in the 1890s, wrote about the homes she passed while traveling along the streams and ditches of Seoul:

"[They] are generally hovels with deep eaves and thatched roofs, presenting nothing to the street but a mud wall, with occasionally a small paper window, just under the roof, indicating the men's quarters, and invariably, at a height varying from 2 to 3 feet above the ditch, a blackened smoke-hole, the vent for the smoke and heated air, which have done their duty in warming the floor of the house ... Even the superior houses, which have curved and tiled roofs, present nothing better to the street than this debased appearance."

Two boys peer in from the street in Seoul, 1954. Robert Neff Collection

Of course, there were exceptions, but, for the most part, many of the photographic images of Seoul during this period give some credence to these observations.

Some speculated that it was a matter of common sense ― a form of protection from the unwanted attention of officials and gentry. If the residents looked as if they were doing well, the officials would feel justified in taxing them more. Of course, these increased taxes did not enrich the government's treasury but did allow the officials to live better. According to these early foreign witnesses, most people either spent their money quickly on food, drink and clothing or displayed their wealth only within the confines of their homes.

Many Korean people were curious about foreign guests. In letters to their families, many Westerners often mentioned ― in amusing, if not condescending ways ― the frequent visits by Koreans of all ages, male and female, to their homes. It is a shame that the Westerners were not equally curious about their Korean hosts' homes. There are not many descriptions of the interiors of common people's homes.

Most homes were probably furnished with the best wall and floor papering the owners could afford. Judging from accounts, this was generally a thick white paper ― a paper, I might add, which was begrudgingly praised by Westerners and used in their own homes. There are also accounts of religious tracts ― sold by missionary colporteurs ― being used as wallpaper.

Spartan living conditions in Seoul in 1954 Robert Neff Collection

This thriftiness was not confined only to religious tracts. When newspapers became more readily available, they were used as wallpaper in homes and small businesses (little hole-in-the-wall restaurants and drinking establishments). I think it is still possible to find small bars with newspaper-wallpaper but most are more of a nostalgic concept rather than a genuine visage of the past.

It was not too long ago in army towns around the peninsula, that documents and pages from military manuals were used to wrap food purchased in the streets. I remember hearing tales of soldiers discovering their names and assignments on their food wrappers ― I imagine this is no longer a problem but even then it was a security nightmare.

In the late 19th century, glass photographic plates were said to have been used as windowpanes. I cannot imagine they were overly popular as they were not very common and, although it is only an assumption, there may have been a superstitious stigma associated with them.

Not everyone chose to decorate their walls with newspapers and calendars in Seoul, 1954. Robert Neff Collection

According to Charles Chaille-Long, the secretary at the American Legation in Seoul during the Baby Riots of 1888:

"One day a number of negatives of Corean children disappeared from my camera obscura. Soon after stories were in circulation ― the same old story used in China against the missionaries, that missionaries stole children, killed them, boiled them, ground their eyes to paste, which, spread upon glass, produced the images. Children were stolen; kidnapped and killed … The mutilated bodies of the children were thrown into the streets to excite the populace to mutiny."

A safer and more available source of crude window glass was empty bottles. One iconic picture of the Korean-American conflict in 1871 is the image of a Korean with an armful of empty beer bottles. Presumably, the bottom part of these bottles were used to make small windows, but I guess other parts of the bottle could have also been used.

Bottles also had other purposes ― defense from thieves. I am not sure when the practice began but I do know that up until the 1990s that it was not too uncommon in old residential areas for the top of outside walls to be embedded with pieces of broken glass ― a deterrent to thieves climbing over the walls.

A kitchen at one of the American gold mining camps in South Korea in the early 1960s Robert Neff Collection

Calendars were popular forms of advertising in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and foreign merchants in Seoul and Jemulpo (modern Incheon) often gave them as New Year gifts to their customers. These calendars soon became part of the interior decoration of many ― if not most ― homes. Up until a couple of decades ago, calendars were still popular gifts ― even amongst friends ― and it was somewhat odd to enter a house that did not have a large number of calendars on the walls.

The Korea of the past is not the Korea of the present. The wretched unadorned hovels viewed from the street have long since been replaced with beautifully landscaped apartment complexes. Individual residences of the more affluent are still surrounded by walls ― their beautiful gardens hidden from the casual observer ― but what can be viewed from the street is well-maintained and not at all like Bishop's dismal description.

Newspapers no longer serve as wallpaper, and calendars grow fewer and fewer with each passing year. And the only writing found on the walls are the scribbles made by mischievous toddlers armed with crayon or pen and enabled by parents' moments of distraction.

One of the few places you can peer through a window and find walls papered with newspapers is at the Yongsan History Museum. Robert Neff Collection

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.