Bank of Korea Money Museum

Bank of Korea Money Museum is in the heart of downtown Seoul and was a phenomenal find! I never even heard of the place, but when I was passing by and saw people walking out of elegantly old, stately building that smacked of government money, I took a closer look at the large "marble" sign in front. A banking museum?! I decided I had time to go in!

Anti-counterfeiting Efforts

Central banks and minting offices around the world make great effort to develop anti-counterfeiting devices in order to combat increasingly sophisticated counterfeiting techniques.

Before the 1990s - characteristic banknote paper or special printing methods were used, e.g. watermarks and micro lettering.

From the 1990s - 2000 -- Additional features like windowed thread, intaglio latent images, optically variable ink, and special presses and soldering were developed and employed.

From 2006 to the present -- With forged banknotes increasing due to technological advances in digital devices, color printers and scanners, new security features like moving images in a striped band and band-type holograms have been adopted.

Examples of counterfeit banknotes: top (counterfeit), bottom (authentic)

High-tech process for making the modern authentic banknote

Security thread, comber noil (the short fibers remaining when cotton is spun into yarn), and florescent thread are woven into acid-free cotton pulp paper undergoing durability-building processes.

The paper then undergoes a systemic series of printings to layer prints on top of intaglios on top of varying colors ...

And the same series of printings with colors, iridescent dyes, itaglios, etc is also on the back side.

Design Symbolism on the Korean Banknotes

Each of the four banknotes in Korea (W1,000 ... W5,000 ... W10,000 ... W50,000) are imbued with cultural symbolism. Who is the great respected person on each banknotes and what are the primary symbolisms employed? All banknotes have highly recognized pieces of great art or scientific learning -- art, architecture, astronomy -- and each select piece contains deep symbolic value, e.g. books for scholarship, pine tree for the uprightness of the scholar and an eternal symbol, certain plants for longevity, wisdom, blessings, wealth, and the continuation of a family dynasty through a son, clocks and ancient maps lauding scientific learning and great advancement, to name a few.

W50,000

FRONT (OBVERSE) VIEW

Shin Saimdang, one of the most brilliant members of the literati and a calligrapher and painter of the Joseon Dynasty, excelled at poetry, handwriting and painting. She is well-known for her "Insects and Plants", which reveal many traditional Korean themes imbued with cultural value.

"Insects and Plants" (Treasure No 595)

"Mukpododo"

BACK (REVERSE) VIEW

Lee Jeong's Poongjukdo and Eo Mongryong's Wolmaedo are among the most typical paintings of the mid-Joseon Dynasty, depicting bamboo and ume flowers, respectively.

 W10,000

FRONT (OBVERSE) VIEW

King Sejong the Great was the fourth king of the Joseon Dynasty among whose great achievements was the creation of Hangeul (the Korean alphabet). 

"Inworobongdo" (The sun, moon, and five peaks) symbolizes the king in the Joseon Dynasty, and Yongbieochaeonga (Songs of the Flying Dragon) was the first literary work written in Hangeul.

BACK (REVERSE) VIEW

Cheonsangyeolchabunyajido (National Treasure No. 228) is an astronomical map produced during the reign of King Taejo, founder of the Joseon Dynasty, showing the original astronomical view of our ancestors.

Hongcheonui is the celestial globe element of Honcheonsigye (National Treasure No. 230), an astronomical timepiece invented in the reign of Joseon's King Hyeonjong.

The Optical Astronomical Telescope in Bohyunsan Optical Astronomy Observatory is the largest reflecting telescope in Korea.

 W5,000

FRONT (OBVERSE) VIEW

Yi I (Yulgok) was a Confucian scholar and politician during the middle Joseon Dynasty. Ojukheon (Treasure No. 165) was Yi I's childhood home, the place of his upbringing. It was so named because it was surrounded by ojuk (black bamboos).

BACK (REVERSE) VIEW

"Insects and Plants" as appearing on the W50,000 bill is part of a eight-panel folding screen, painted by Shin Saimdang. Two more of the panels appear on the W5,000 bill: "A Cockscomb and a Frog" and "A Watermelon and a Katydid". 

W1,000

FRONT (OBVERSE) VIEW

Yi Hwang (Toeggye) was a Confucian scholar during the mid-Joseon Dynasty.

Myeongnyundang (Treasure No. 141) is the building in the Seonggyungwan where students were taught.

BACK (REVERSE) VIEW

Gyesangjeonggeodo (Treasure No. 585) is a painting of the seodang, where Toeggye stayed, and its surround scenery. It is one of the masterpieces drawn by Jeong Seon (Gyeomjae).

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Anyone can walk through the museum, but do pay attention that the second floor closes a bit earlier than the other floors (at 4pm). Reservations for a specific language guided tour are possible:

a high recommend!

History Alive: RAS Walking Tours

Hanyang aka Seoul, the pulsing vibrant capitol of the Joseon Dynasty and of modern Korea, mixes traditional architecture of the past with soaring tower constructions of the present. Vestige artifacts of the 500-year long dynasty are virtually hidden amidst the scrapers of capitalism. And yet, the old structures whisper history for those willing to listen.

In my 20+ years living in Korea, I’ve read books on the history of Korea and talked with many Korean friends, but it’s been the Royal Asiatic Society walking tours led by historians who have opened my eyes to the many historical treasures nestled in the Seoul downtown landscape.

While I read that Bosingak Belfry was the time keeper of the Joseon Dynasty and the bell was rung 33 times at 4 a.m. and 28 times at 10 p.m. to signal the opening and closing of the great gates and the market places, I learned in walking tours that the belfry was totally destroyed in the Korean War and the bell virtually buried in debris and earth.

The plaque at Tapgol Park reads that the March 1, 1919 independence protest began at Tapgol, but a RAS historian further explained the top of the 10-storey pagoda had been missing in the early 1900s and Koreans had no intention of reconstructing it. Korean belief was if the pagoda were completed, their nation would fall, which indeed happened. The Japanese learned of the superstition, completed the pagoda, and then ruled the peninsula for 35 years.

Tapgol/Pagoda Park in Seoul, ca. 1904 - Wikimedia Commons

I also learned Chong-ro—the road connecting the belfry, Tapgol Park and running close to the palaces—was formerly a place where people were executed by hacking or hanging, and the street was haunted by ghosts. It was also the road populated by the noble class with their horses, and peasants were obliged to bow in subservience while yangban processions passed. Pimatgol, literally meaning avoid + horse + alley, was the parallel alley for the peasants to go about their business and literally avoid the horses and forced bowing. Chong-ro is now a major downtown street and Pimatgol has been reconstructed into a place for business and social dining, but marked rocks in Pimatgol shout that history bled onto those stones. 

Why does a nation need five great palaces? Gyeongbokgung, the greatest of palaces, was built on principles of geomancy and astronomy. Building it symbolized the establishment of a dynasty, destroying it in colonial times symbolized the fall. Changdeokgung had been an alternative palace for a time and then used as a state palace, similar to Changgyeonggung, which in colonial times was desecrated by the Japanese invaders and turned into a zoo, an overt act of defilement. Deoksugung became the royal palace when Emperor Kojong was forced from Gyeongbokgung by the Japanese; after his death in 1919 the palace became a park and an art gallery, like many of the palaces. Gyeonghuigung was never a state palace, and during colonialism it was converted to a boys’ high school so the tramping of boys’ feet could smash its energy.

some dan-cheong imagery

I learned the exterior of the palaces is based on dan-cheong, literally “red” and “blue”. Dan-cheong is traditional painting of the palaces, so the palace supports are red like tree trunks, and the roof or upper part is green like leaves. And I learned that green and blue were not traditionally viewed as distinctly different in Korea as in the West. The small figures on the roof tiles invoke the power of the Monkey King, and the latticework on doors and windows are wishes for happiness, wealth or blessings for health. Architecturally, palaces, temples and houses were built without nails. Their joinery was the careful hewing and placement of beams at 90-degree angles. There are no flying buttresses and rose windows in Korea, but the graceful sway of the roofs are said to be like the up-turned feathers of a crane in flight. Traditional buildings are in harmony with nature.

Now when I walk the streets of Seoul, I nod my head as I listen to the buildings and stones telling me their little-heard histories. And while I still sign up for the RAS historical walking tours, I’m now a member of the society’s excursion committee planning other tours of discovery. For me, learning of the past is understanding the national foundation on which the present is built.

Published in The Korea Times under Culture and 4th in a series of viewpoints on Seoul as written by expats. [My Seoul Story[ History alive: Royal Asiatic Society walking tours, August 10, 2017.

The Jindo Miracle Sea Road Festival

Jindo island located just off the southwest corner of the Korea peninsula is a mystical island of folk art and music, traditional performance and the much celebrated surreal sea road which forms a 2.8 kilometer long pathway to an outer island twice a year. This mysterious walkway roughly 10-40 feet wide has been dubbed the “Korean Moses Miracle” and attracts Koreans and foreigners alike to see the mysterious phenomenon and walk its length.

The four-day Jindo Miracle Sea Road Festival in spring attracts about half of a million visitors every year, making it one of the three top festivals in Korea. The two other most popular festival events are the Mud Festival in July and the king of festivals, the Hwacheon Sancheonea (mountain trout) Ice Festival in January. For all of these, charter tour buses from various cities flow into these otherwise minimally populated areas, filling large pre-designated parking areas. Traveling by private car to any of these places during the festival season is one’s worst nightmare.

This year the Jindo festival opened on a Thursday, April 7, and concluded on Sunday, April 10. And because this year the lowest ebb tide of the Moses Miracle took place on the weekend, tour buses arrived throughout the weekend for people to see this once-a-year celebrated phenomenon. The most popular buses, however, were those that arrived in the early dawn of Saturday, in time for the Fire Torch Walk when thousands of people carry flaming gas-lit torches and walk into the sea on the appearing path that links Jindo to the distant Modo island. For those who missed the iconic Torch Walk, the sea parting occurred again at 18:20 on Saturday and 19:00 on Sunday. A few thousand even got up early Sunday and did the unofficially schedule sea path walk at around 6:40am.

Each of the sea path occurrences lasts about an hour, so if a person does get to Modo island, he or she will probably be stranded there or be forced to hire a local boat to ferry them back to the larger island.

The sea path is steeped in legend and, unlike other legends of long-long ago, the legend of Grandma Ppong and the sea path goes back to a precise date, the year 1480 when a man Son Dong-ji was condemned to exile on Jeju Island. As Son’s ship navigated to Jeju, a furious storm blew and shipwrecked him on the tip of Jindo island at a savage place called Hoedong, literally the “tiger place”, named so because of the numerous striped beasts prowling the area. Son stayed with the villagers and for the next 200 years his descendants lived in Hoedong until the area became so frightening a place to live because of the many tiger attacks that the villagers along with Son’s descendants built rafts and moved to the nearby Modo island.

Unfortunately in the move, a grandmother was left behind. In terror and loneliness Grandmother Ppong prayed to the Dragon King of the sea to be reunited with her family. Finally, in a March night dream the Dragon King appeared and told her the next day a rainbow would appear to guide her to her family. The next day on the rocky shore she prayed again and the rainbow bridge appeared, forming an arching path from Hoedong to Modo island. In her joy she ran along the rainbow path and collapsed into her family’s arms on the other side whereupon she praised the Dragon King for reuniting her and then died from exhaustion.

In filial respect, her family honored her for her tenacious faith in the Dragon King. Many locals still dance, stage shamanic rituals and have other performances to give respects to Grandma Ppong for her strong faith in the Dragon King. Particularly during festival season, the statue of her located at the narrowest expanse between now-Jindo and Modo is draped with ribboned wishes and prayers as she looks earnestly to the distant island. Another statue overlooking the head of the rainbow path is where Grandma Ppong kneels beseechingly while looking toward Modo; a snarling tiger statue is her companion.

Though a legend to some, many Koreans still put faith in the powers of the Dragon King and the faith of Grandma Ppong. Many come to pray for the well-being of family members, for wishes for their children, for prosperity and health. The local Jindo residents have a traditional celebration called Yeongdeungje in which they pray to Grandma Ppong and the Dragon King, their village guardian spirits. Unlike the more publicized Jindo Miracle Sea Road Festival which is only celebrated in spring, Yeongdeungje is held during the spring and fall sea road partings when the road is widest.

The partings are scientifically explained as tidal harmonics. Predictable by the lunar calendar, the phenomenon is controlled by the gravitation pull of the moon along with effects of the rotation and momentum of the earth. From a superstitious point of view, a mystical miracle occurs.

The Jindo sea parting is a family experience. Everyone can participate, and while mom is digging around for lunch, baby is quit dry and content to just be along!

Wearing gumboots and carrying a trowel and a pail or just a bag, Koreans are fully equipped to explore food for lunch: crabs, clams, abalone, stranded octopi, sea tangle and other sea delicacies are all fair game!

photo contribution by Nicola Hayne - adventurers feeling their way along as the tide continues to ebb

The Jindo Miracle Sea Road Festival didn’t stem from the prayers to Grandma Ppong or the Dragon King, but came about by the French ambassador Pierre Landy who was visiting Jindo island in 1975 to learn a bit about, some say the Jindo dogs and others say the local music. Why he actually went there is now unimportant for what he saw, Grandma Ppong’s rainbow bridge, he unintentionally immortalized in a French newspaper when he published his observation as the Korean version of the Moses Miracle and much like the Biblical parting of the Red Sea. After international awareness was raised, other foreigners wanted to witness the parting as well, and so in 1978 the sea parting festival was established.

Western foreign interest increased every year, until in 1996 Tendo Yoshimi, a Japanese pop star, sang the song “A Story of Jindo” describing the enigmatic water parting which ignited Japanese interest in the phenomenon as well, so then hordes of Japanese tourists flocked to Jindo every year.  

The Jindo sea parting miracle is not the only ebb tide sea road in Korea. In fact, about 20 others exist. Somaemuldo, the so-called “lighthouse island” off Geojedo, Gyeongsangnam-do has a rock-strewn path that appears regularly twice a day; then near Incheon a stretch of cement-paved walkway appears to connect Nuesan Island Lighthouse Observatory with the mainland, and nearby on Seonjaedo island a fairy-like meander of golden sand appears to bridge Seonjaedo to the tiny Mokseom island. More exist but none as long or wide as the Jindo phenomenon and none have yet had international exposure on such a grand scale to immortalize them as must-see tourist attractions.

Jindo island in its own right is a tourist attraction. At least five folk heritages have been listed as intangible cultural heritages with UNESCO—the ganggansullae, a circle dance performed by women; the ssitgimgut, a shamanistic ritual soul-cleansing of wandering spirits to resolve their earthly grievances; the Jindo dasiraegi, a performance for consoling people who have lost family members; the deulnorae, a farmer’s song; and samulnori, the play and dance to the beat of four percussion instruments. Two other folk heritages are listed by the provincial government as intangible cultural assets—the Jindo buknori, a traditional drum play with two sticks, and manga, the local funeral dirges. It can be said that much music and performance claims Jindo as their birthplace. And thus the Jindo saying, “When in Jindo, beware of showing your musical abilities” because the musical talents are high and broad.

Jindo, a place where anything is possible if connected to the sea.
These boats were part of a long boat procession that paraded for the Jindo visitors.

The mythical aura of Jindo is more than just legend, and gugak—Korean traditional music and performing arts—has rich history as well for near Jindo island is where brilliant Admiral Yi Sun-shin (1545-1598) fought with his famed turtle ships to defeat the Japanese fleet. It is also the island that the unfortunate ship MV Sewol sank near in its unfortunate maritime accident just two years ago. On a lighter note, the famed Jindo dog is of course taking its name from Jindo island; the animal is no highly regarded that it is esteemed as a national treasure. Accordingly, Jindo dog shows and performances during the Jindo Sea Road Festival are scheduled to highlight the dog’s superior intelligence and loyalty to its master.

And finally, if someone adventures to Jindo island, whether during festival season or not, a visit is said not to be complete unless one enjoys the local Jindo hongju, a 40% alcoholic drink made from whole grains, rice and jicho, a local medicinal herb extract. The bright red liquor, hence its name “hong” for red, is the only distilled red-colored liquor in the world, and it is said not to give someone a hangover the next morning. With that in mind, the visitor can enjoy the mystical flavor of the island while walking the sea path, listening to gugak or simply drinking the medicinal-herb liquor.

Korean traditional wrestling with professionals

After the professionals exhibited their skills, foreigners could participate. My friend and one other were the only foreigners of about eight who could "triumph" over the professionals. They brought with them Western wrestling tricks unknown to the Korean pros.

Published in Korean Quarterly, Vol 19, No 40, Summer 2016, p 49, 64-65.

Gyeongsan Cobalt Mine: "I live crying tears of blood"

In various English publications, International Strategy Center (ISC) had a posting inviting up to 10 people to take an overnight historical tour of the “Gyeongsan Cobalt Mine and Site of Civilian Massacre”. This type of tour is totally different than the typical templestay experience, visit a tea plantation and learn about tea ceremony, take a bus to Seoraksan for a color tour or to Haeundae Beach to soak up the rays. I’ve been to Ganghwa Island to see the famous table-top dolmen, have gone to several festivals, and climbed the tallest mountains in most of Korea’s 20 national parks. What really is lacking in a lot of these excursions is the voice of the people—not the voice of the festival participants or the Korean tourists who are traveling somewhere for entertainment, but the voice of the average person who has seen history unfold and is living that history. For that reason, I was quick to sign up to be among the 10 privileged people who would go on the tour.

On October 17 the participants and two leaders from the ISC met at Dong Seoul Bus Terminal, and imagine my surprise to find out only one other person, James a young historian, besides myself, an anthropologist, had signed up. Where were all the people who want a very unique tour rich in history? Are people not signing up because nowadays trips are taken for pleasure and personal entertainment? Shouldn’t mental enrichment also be a drawing factor when choosing a weekend activity? So just the four of us boarded the bus to Gyeongsan. While the hard-working ISC volunteers slept, James and I read the provided literature on the mine—all of it related to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Korea and published in 2010.

Choi Seung Ho, publisher and president of Gyeongsan Sinmoon, met us at the bus terminal and became our guide. Choi is a pillar in the community, knowing and shaking hands with everyone; a dedicated man—according to a 2010 영남일보 위클리포유—who had educated more than 500 people in night-schools in the preceding 20 years. He is not related to the bereaved family members of the mine massacre but takes a very philosophical stance on why he wants exposure to what we learned was hidden history in the Truth and Reconciliation articles. “The last thing I can do for our children [future generations] is to give them their history, even if it is a shameful past,” he said. So before going to the mine itself, he gave us historical setting context to the mine massacre story by showing us the cobalt extraction site 1.5 kilometers away.

In the late 1930s the Japanese used Korean labor to mine the gold and silver in the mine, but with the discovery of cobalt and cobalt being useful for strengthening steel necessary for war munitions, cobalt became the more valued object of the mine. In 1945 the mine was shut down with the expulsion of the Japanese from Korea. Right after the onset of the Korean War, from July to September 1950, political prisoners were brought to the mine, beaten, shot, burned with flame-throwers, and thrown down the mine shaft, which was then dynamited to obscure evidence. I’ve read since that the largest civilian massacres occurred on the sites of former Japanese occupation.

The mine is kept locked to keep ghost-seekers out and to preserve the evidence. Already two excavations have taken place and bones for 400 or so people have been removed, but with the 3,500 people reported victims of the massacre, more than 3,000 are yet unaccounted for. Unfortunately, excavations are expensive and the bereaved families poor. Bags and bags of dirt with bone fragments and teeth line the inside of the mine, waiting for funding to further the excavation. Beneath the shaft where the largest number of bones have been excavated so far, the mud is oily with yellow adipose, even now, 65 years later. A trailer not far from the entrance stores several boxes of bones while the greater number are refrigerated for preservation at a research lab until funding can be obtained to continue the excavation. Bereaved families don’t know if their family members have been excavated yet, and DNA testing is too expensive, so they wait to excavate all before giving all wandering spirits a soul-cleansing ceremony to bid them cease their wanderings. But there is no money, no discussion, and no reconciliation. Therefore, there is no closure for the mine victims and for the bereaved families by extension.

As one Truth and Reconciliation article pointed out, “During the military dictatorships and repressive regimes of President Rhee Syngman, General Chun Doo-hwan, and President Park Chung-hee, these atrocities were kept secret,” and bereaved family members who organized in the 1960s were imprisoned. Korea has had a long history of guilt-by-association so for survival the bereaved family members became silent.

In 2000 under the presidency of Kim Dae-jung, a special law related to the Cheju Uprising, another Korean War massacre site, was passed and all bereaved families members were finally encouraged and invited to register as such. This registry as I understand it was only open for one year and has never been opened since. It is estimated that only 10% of the bereaved families registered for fear of continued guilt-by-association consequences that they had lived with all of their lives. Guilt-by-association prevented them from being civil servants which therefore discouraged them from studying as jobs opened to the educated were in general not opened to them. 2,500 of those massacred in the cobalt mine were classified broadly as ‘political prisoners’. A ‘political prisoner’ could be someone who spoke out against the ruling party, fed someone who spoke out, or even had money and therefore was viewed as being associated with the moneyed “reds”. Just by having a relative massacred in the mine placed the label of “red” on whole families by extension.

President Roh Mu-hyun allotted funding for excavations and made an apology, officially recognizing the illegal use of power in previous governments. However, this funding was cut short in the Lee Myung-bak presidency and at present the topic of funding or recognition is like a heavy tombstone under the office of Park Guen-hye. Elder daughter of the military dictator-president Park Chung-hee, Park Guen-hye presently seeks to use government office to write and enforce a “Correct History Textbook” in middle and high school classes across Korea. Many historians argue that replacing the current choice of eight textbooks with only one, which they feel will “whitewash” her father’s era of military rule among other historical events, will continue to hide historical truths and events that need to be academically discussed and presented. Korea disputes the Japanese textbooks which Koreans say distort history, and yet the current government is taking steps to change history via textbook also. Franklin P. Jones, 18^th-century publisher, so aptly said, “Perhaps nobody has changed the course of history as much as the historian.” The question asked by many is, if history is distorted and events glossed over, how will future Korean leaders learn the mistakes of the past so as to aim for a better and brighter future?

In the course of the weekend I learned many disturbing things. First, the Internet is almost silent on the Gyeongsan Cobalt MineMassacre. What is published is a few short blog entries on the mine and massacre and a few articles put out by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Korea in 2010. Not much else exists in English. More surprising is the lack of information regarding almost all Korean War civilian massacres in Korea. According to Wikipedia, the list of civilian massacres in North Korea cites one, and in South Korea eighteen; the Gyeongsan Cobalt Mine Massacre, with its 3,500 victims, is not in the list, and yet, according to Na Jeong-tae, vice-president of the Gyeongsan Cobalt Mine Bereaved Families Association, 114 such bereaved families associations exist regarding civilian massacres in South Korea. The silence is deafening.

The Gyeongsan Cobalt Mine Bereaved Families Association wants reconciliation. They want investigations on the war crimes as to the reasons for the illegal killings; they want their fathers, uncles, brothers or other family members from the massacre to have their names cleared of “red” slurs, and their own tarnished names to be simultaneously restored. They seek funding to finish the excavations and be allowed Confucian respects to ceremoniously bury their relatives. They also want the bereaved families registry to be reopened so other families can join and be bonded through spirit and share in the catharsis of healing together. However, seeing no hope for change at the moment, Na Jeong-tae, who was able to receive only four years of education, said, “I live crying tears of blood.”

I wouldn’t call my weekend exciting and certainly not entertaining, but what I gained from going to the Gyeongsan Cobalt Mine was knowledge that most Koreans are not likely to have, especially if the Korean government does not acknowledge its own historical past. I listened to the voice of a marginalized people, and I came away with an understanding of family and truth as being treasured values as opposed to what seems to drive society nowadays: economy and politics. I think I can say that the time spent learning about this obscure history and meeting four members of an effectively silenced group, was one of the most meaningful experiences I’ve had in Korea. Meaningful because people spoke from their hearts about their experiences to survive, and meaningful because they learned to endure despite the pain of being marginalized and emotionally suppressed. I liked feeling their strength because it is this strength from enduring that has built Korea into the nation it is today.

Published on the International Strategy Center website in their World Current Report, Vol 10, October 2015 publication.

The King's Archery Range

On October 1, 2014 one month after the official opening of the first archery range gallery in South Korea, Stephen Wunrow, photographer for the American publication Korean Quarterly, and I were given a grand tour and introduction to the newly established gallery. Dr. In-Souk Cho, PhD in Architectural History and member to the Hwanghakjeong Archery Range, and the archery range director, Dong-Sul Shin, introduced to us the many features of the range, from Confucian archery range targets to famous paintings telling the tales of yesteryear’s archery battles to a display of various world ethnic bows. The establishment of the gallery was sponsored by the district office, the Seoul city government, and the Korean government, and came to a sum of KRW700,000,000 (US654,000).

During our introduction to the gallery, various people from other archery ranges, a couple even from outside of Seoul, popped their heads in to visit the first archery gallery in Korea. Although there are eight archery ranges in Seoul and more than 360 registered ranges nationwide, Hwanghakjeong is considered the finest as it was the range to which the emperor-king was affiliated, and which is signified in the guild colors of gold (the emperor’s color) and red. Each of the other ranges have guild colors too and in shooting events, people are evaluated not only by their meditative style and skill but also on their guild of affiliation.

Hwanghakjeong, which translates as archery plus jeong meaning club or pavilion, was not always located at the present site. After a visit in 1899 by Prince Heinrich of Prussia who was fascinated with the Korean archery style and suggested making it a national sport, Emperor Kojong decreed the establishment of an archery range for the cultivation of the mind and the body of the people. In outcome, Hwanghakjeong was built in the same year in one of the western palaces, Gyeonghuigung. However, with the demolition of the palace and construction of the Monopoly Bureau of the Japanese Government-General on the site during Japanese occupation (1910-1945), Hwanghakjeong was moved on May 12, 1922 to its present location near Sajik Shrine. The site had been one of the five bow arbors in Seochan until the implementation of the Gabo Reforms in 1884, which caused many of the bow arbors to disappear around the country.

In the early days of the range’s establishment, Confucian values merited a rigid hierarchical system, and this was especially obvious at the archery range as the targets were totem objects denoting status and birth. Only Emperor Kojong and his son, Emperor Sunjong, could aim their arrows at the tiger head target. In 1897 King Kojong had proclaimed himself emperor of Korea and therefore an equal to the emperor in formerly Big Brother China and the emperor in Japan. Until that time, his archery totem animal had been the bear, the symbol of a king and the highest status formerly in Korea. High-ranking officers aimed at a deer head and commoners aimed at a pig or boar head. In the present day, westernization prevails and the target at the various ranges is the typical bull’s eye minus all totemic imagery.

Traditionally archery was not a skill for peasants. Before the Gabo Reforms began in 1894, archery was a secret martial art passed down through oral traditions. But by the late 19th century the use of the Korean bow was virtually an obsolete martial art and the Gabo Reforms of 1894 removed archery from the gwageo (Military Service Exam). From there archery went into rapid decline until patronized by Emperor Kojong a few short years later. During Japanese colonization of Korea, archery was little changed but it did become popularized through study and publication. In 1922 the Joseon Archery Association was established and in 1929 literary scholars in collusion with archers published a compilation on archery. One copy of the book, Joseoneui Gungsul (Korean Archery) is a part of the new gallery collection.

The gallery also houses several paintings related to archery, three of particular note. The first is Buksae Seon-eundo, a painting dating 1664 and of the buksae, or far north, of a camp where generals were trained and tested in the much respected art of archery. Another is the famous Dongraebu Sunjeoldo, depicting the invasion of Korea by the Japanese in the first year of the Imjin War (1592-1593). The painting is by an artist in 1760 depicting the assault on the walled city of Dongrae near the port of Pusan. Koreans with forces of 4,000 soldiers armed only with bows and arrows are surrounded and losing to the aggressive forces of 14,700 Japanese invaders armed with bows and arrows in addition to guns. The last painting is by Kim Hong-Do, a folklore artist from the 18th century. His simple painting is rather three sketches of a peasant archer—the archer with an arrow case opened and arrows in hand, the archer sitting on the ground bending his bow to string it, and the archer being guided by a gentleman-scholar in the correct form of holding the bow.

Other items on display in the gallery are a singijeon—a cannon-like construction that shoots 100 barbed arrows at a time—representative arrows from the Silla, Baekjae and Goguryeo Dynasties, as well as a wall displaying the materials for making a traditional gakgung, a “horn bow”. Seven materials are needed—bamboo, the imported water buffalo horn (hence the name), oak, tendon for elasticity, mountain mulberry wood, birch bark, and—the secret ingredient—the glue made from the mina fish.

Unlike Mongol bows and the Japanese “long” bows, both of which are far longer than the 120-130 centimeter Korean bow, the Korean bow has more of an arch and with the secret glue lending elasticity it can outshoot the longbows while requiring less strength in the draw. The downside of the gakgung is that high humidity and rain reduce its elasticity and therefore attack advantage. The first king of the Joseon Dynasty, Taejo (1335-1408), encountered such a problem in his aborted invasion against the Ming Dynasty. One of his five reasons not to invade the Ming Dynasty was the reduced effectiveness of his arrows due to the high humidity.

The traditional gakgung has changed little in material and design over the centuries, and the traditional bamboo arrow, hand-fletched with pheasant feathers, can be traced even further back in its form and design to the 3rd and 4th centuries. With one handmade arrow costing around KRW30,000 (US$28.50) and a handmade bow taking at least two months to construct with price-tag significantly higher, the cost of money and time in purchasing for Korea’s second most popularly followed sport can be prohibitive. Needless to say, the carbon bow and arrow offer a much cheaper way to practice the popular martial art focused on a symphony of meditation, composure and movement.

For more information, read Opening of First Archery Gallery in Seoul.

Cheryl Magnant, MA, MA, Assistant Professor at Korea University, writes from South Korea where she has lived off and on since 1991.

[Published in Korean Quarterly, Vol 18, No 2, Winter 2015, p 41, 43]