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According to English poet Sir Philip Sidney’s well-known Apology, poetry is meant to instruct and delight. In the spirit of this assertion, our ongoing experiments algorithmically detect patterns in vernacular Korean poetic texts and manifest them creatively in digital environments. Our aspiration is to deepen the discussion of vernacular Korean poetry by enabling engagements with Korean poetic texts that privilege image over discourse, if only temporarily. The aim is to see, quite literally, what Korean poems can be in order to deepen discussions of what they are or might mean. This project extends the authors’ previous work by attempting to visualize an entire book of poetry in immersive space as a forest rather than envisioning individual poems as two-dimensional trees. Taking liberties with the theme of the conference where this work was presented for the first time, sensibility and landscape in Korean literature and film, we explore Korean literature as landscape. The performative/deformative processes of computing described here include programmatic morphological linguistic analysis and L-Systems procedural modeling. Specifically, we map the bibliographic and linguistic codes of Kim So-wŏl’s canonical Chindallaekkot (Azaleas, 1925) into three-dimensional digital space to create interactive paintings from Kim So-wŏl’s “speaking pictures,” to borrow again from Sidney. This is done by expressing linguistic elements in Kim’s poems (nouns, adjectives, verbs, adverbs) and their structural bibliographic elements (stanzas, lines, white spaces) in the grammar of L-systems in order to create commands that (re)render Kim’s poems visually as trees.

The purpose of the present article is to demonstrate that Sŏkkuram attained its status as a work of art through Japanese and Korean intellectuals’ efforts to invent or elevate the East and that the eulogy of its art was involved in the self-legitimizing and selfaggrandizing culture of imperial Japan. The sculptures of the grotto were not disconnected from the context of Buddhist ceremonies and practices and discussed in terms of art until they became the object of Japanese critical discourse accommodating western notions of art. Yanagi Muneyoshi, the author of the first critical essay ever written on Sŏkkuram as a work of art, tried to explain its formal features and their significance from a viewpoint of romantic and Blakean art and assumed as its characterizing and inclusive category an Eastern art which had held its unifying ground in Buddhism. His analysis of Sŏkkuram was in line with attempts to invent Buddhist art in correspondence to Christian art and, ultimately, the East to the West. In his “Sunset,” a short-story set against Kyŏngju, Yi T’ae-jun was interested in capturing what he himself had called “Eastern sentiment” evoked by the historic remains in the old capital city of Silla and located its consummation in the sublimity of Sŏkkuram. Compared to the eleven-faced-Kwanŭm bodhisattva in the text, the heroine T’aok is not just an embodiment of compassion toward all mortal beings, but also a symbol of a new East that was the dominant theme of Japanese wartime ideology. As Japan’s war intensified, and as the culture of imperial Japan took a fascist turn, the aesthetic of Sŏkkuram became irrevocably politicized. Buddhism, the source of elevating representations of the grotto, served in the war effort in the form of Imperial-Way Buddhism. The aesthetic of Oriental sublime was thus inseparably entangled with Japanese imperialist fantasies.

Due to yadam’s characteristic narrative principles that foreground actions and plots, space has played a minimal role. However, particular attention has been paid to the description of space and landscape in the so-called ‘utopia-seeking’ yadam stories. This article analyzes the motives for creating a utopia and its manner of functioning as a landscape in these utopian yadam stories. Utopia creators construct a very exclusive utopia into which they invite visitors to enter. The utopia creators want to show their visitors not just the landscape itself but traces of communal life. The third landscape is either discovered or presumed by these utopia creators, and then introduced to their visitors. This place of absolute spectacle transcends the utopia creators’ lives. Once they become accustomed to the utopia as a place for living in, it loses its freshness and charm as a spectacle itself. Therefore, the utopia creators covertly seek another space that can be appreciated strictly as a spectacle. This experience of the third landscape provides visitors with a decisive chance to cleanse themselves from the dregs of worldly desire and be reborn as new human beings. The more strongly they experience the spectacle, however, the harder it is for them to return to their former lives when they return home. As a result, worldly men try to revisit the utopia; their attempts are unsuccessful, however, because a utopia will not accept anyone who tries to return from the earthly world. The utopian landscape stories of yadam hint at the paradoxical fate of people who simultaneously recall both a utopia and the earthly world.

This article addresses image and narrative production during 1920s and 1930s colonial Korea. This question encompasses the symbolic order at the intersection of antiquity and the modern; in other words, image culture under emergent print capitalism and the changing constellation of representations in a new social symbolic. Specifically, I will address this new image culture through the rematerialization and repackaging of the agwi (the starving ghost) in mass-centered images and narratives: specifically, readersubmitted cartoons (tokchamanhwa), reportage and colonial literary representations of the starving ghost. An apparition called forth in representations of poverty and starvation, the starving ghost captures the material realities of the Korean lower classes.

Though Kim Ki-duk (Kim Kidŏk) has been most notorious as a filmmaker for his bleak and misogynistic imagination, most notably in The Isle (Sŏm), Address Unknown (Such’wiin pulmyŏng), Bad Guy (Nappŭn namja), The Coast Guard (Haeansŏn), and Samaritan Girl (Samaria), 3 Iron (Pinjip) seems rather a moderate and romantic love story. Nevertheless, the film still remains problematic mainly because of its enigmatic narrative line. The sensational poster image of the female protagonist embracing her husband, while at the same time kissing her lover, epitomizes what is at stake in 3 Iron from a Lacanian perspective. This article is devoted to the task of identifying the logic of subjectivization and different directions of freedom operating in that strange love triangle. What is noticeable in describing the subjectivity of protagonists is 3 Iron’s elaborate use of mise-en-scène through windows and mirrors. The function of reflective materials is to show the protagonists in love as alienated, split and spectral. Being spectral means being related to the status of the Real as otherness or nothingness. In that regard, the personages in Las Meninas could be applied to the characters in this film in terms of their topological status: the royal couple and Min’gyu, Velasquez and T’aesŏk, the princess and Sŏnwha. The first pair has the status of the Other, the second the Real and the third the Symbolic shifting to the Real. In addition, Lacan’s rotated double-mirror device helps us to understand why subjectivization, or the psychoanalytic cure, means separation, or freedom, from the mirror of the Other. The transgressive couple seems to achieve freedom in the end. However, the different choices made by the masculine and feminine subjects need to be analyzed more closely on the basis of Lacan’s theory of sexuation. T’aesŏk finally becomes a ghostly existence and leaves the symbolic reality completely, whereas Sŏnwha decides to return home while letting her life and house remain open to the spectral being of T’aesŏk. According to Lacan, Sŏnwha’s way of living could be interpreted as having ultimate freedom because she treats the Symbolic as being ‘not-all’, that is, as being a reality containing an infinite gap that changes the reality from inside. By contrast, T’aesŏk’s choice is subject to the idea of reality as being ‘total’, thus he subtracts himself as an exceptional blot in the Symbolic. T’aesŏk’s way of enjoying freedom is limited because his resistant position is still inherently bound to the existent reality. In that sense, 3 Iron represented a crucial moment for the appearance of feminine subjectivity in Korean cinema during the 2000s, when so much effort had been made to rebuild the masculinity lost mainly as a result of the social decline following “the IMF crisis”.

The place of Jang Chul-soo (Chang Ch’ŏl-su)’s Bedevilled (Kim Pong-nam sarinsakŏn ŭi chŏnmal, 2010) in the cycle of recent South Korean revenge films hailed for their pairing of poetic visuals and “extreme” violence seems rather straightforward, yet this article argues for Bedevilled’s singularity, as a work that critiques the gender politics of transnational genre cinemas like the slasher-horror and rape-revenge film, and the Korean literary and film genres that also serve as its important intertexts. This article examines the multiple modes by which Bedevilled interrupts the use of the revenge trope as a depoliticizing, privatizing system of generic representation through its citation of colonial period naturalist writer Kim Tong-in’s well known short stories “Potatoes” (“Kamja,” 1925) and “The Seaman’s Chant” (“Paettaragi,” 1921) and Kamja, the 1987 film adaptation of the same story directed by Byun Jang-ho (Pyŏn Chang-ho) and starring Kang Su-yeon (Kang Su-yŏn), amid its visualization of the slasher genre’s complex gender dynamics. Analyzing Bedevilled’s trans-media adaptation of two of Kim’s best known works of short fiction and a key example of the 1980s genre cycle of t’osok ero yŏnghwa (Nativist erotic film), I chart the film’s ironic repetition of the earlier works’ visual and narrative tropes, particularly in the film’s disturbing presentation of patriarchal oppression as a pervasive social disease. By embedding tales that attribute characters’ fates to their social environments within the anti-heroic conventions of the revenge narrative, Bedevilled mobilizes two incommensurable genre frameworks to reorient the drive of social critique towards alternative modes of collective identification rather than those based in nationalism or subordination to patriarchy’s psycho-sexual violence. Moreover, the film’s juxtaposition of unexpected genre frameworks becomes the basis for its gendered critique of Kim’s literary legacy, the cinematic repertoire of male fantasy in 1980s literary films, and contemporary conventions of institutionalized misogyny.

Pojo Chinul (1158–1210) is considered a great harmonizer of the conflicting Buddhist trends in the late Koryŏ period. Although diverse philosophical and soteriological aspects of his texts have been examined, the Hwaŏmnon chŏryo, a seminal text that demonstrates his effort to mitigate the tension between the Sŏn and Kyo schools, has not been given due scholarly attention. By revealing the drawbacks in previous scholarship on Chinul, this article emphasizes the importance of a correct understanding of Li Tongxuan’s (635–730) Xin huayan jing lun, the primary text that exerted an enormous influence on the formation of Chinul’s thought. Chinul’s text, however, sometimes omits the rich symbolism as represented in Li’s text. Moreover, the Hwaŏmnon chŏryo does not adopt indigenous philosophical frameworks for the explication of the Flower Garland Sūtra as introduced in its source text Xin huayan jing lun. Chinul, instead, faithfully accommodates Li’s fundamental philosophical and soteriological theses in this abridged text. Although Chinul does not accept every detail of Li’s exegesis and his text shows the characteristics of selective abridgement, he has a critical attitude toward the contemporary Buddhists just as Li does. This attitude may explain his adoption of this “unorthodox” text which was written by a layman and disregarded by both of the mainstream Sŏn and Kyo schools.

A mokkan is a wooden slip on which characters are inscribed after it has been trimmed. In ancient times, Koreans communicated with others by leaving notes or their thoughts on such mokkan (wooden slips). Contrary to China where slips are divided into zhujian (竹簡, bamboo slips) and mudu (木牘, wooden slips), bamboo slips were very rare in Korea. Unlike Chinese wooden slips (mudu), Korean mokkan are rectangular in shape. The shape of Korean wooden slips is in fact more in keeping with that of Japanese wooden slips. However, while multi-sided wooden slips (mokkan) have been discovered in Korea, none have been unearthed in Japan. This was designed to heighten convenience when studying scriptures or preparing documents. The characteristics of Korean wooden slips can be attributed to the traditional method of communication that existed even before the introduction of Chinese characters and revolved around inscribing etchings and signs on wood. The mokkan culture of ancient Korea was as such a combination of the conventional communication method using pieces of wood and the Chinese character system. Approximately 700 mokkan have been discovered to date. These were used as scriptures, documents, tags, rituals, memos, and for practice purposes. In keeping with this wide range of uses, various types of Korean mokkan were produced. Although the mokkan discovered to date were produced solely within the borders of Lelang Commandery of the Han dynasty, Paekche, and Silla, the possibility of mokkan produced in Koguryŏ, Kaya, and Parhae being discovered in the future cannot be ruled out altogether. Interest in ancient Korean mokkan has increased and a significant number of studies have also accumulated. There are differing opinions regarding the wooden slips (mokkan) found at Sŏngsan Fortress in Haman, and more specifically in terms of the word noin (奴人) recorded on the mokkan and the tax burden of nobi (奴婢). Meanwhile, mokkan discovered in Pogam-ri, Naju, shed some light on the nature of the ruling system of Paekche in local areas during the early seventh century. The human-shaped slip found in the reservoir complex at Hwawang Fortress in Ch’angnyŏng, was used to conduct a ritual ceremony for the dragon king (yongwang). However, different opinions have emerged as to whether the purpose of the ritual ceremony was to pray for rain or to cure diseases. Rather than being compiled by later generations, Korean ancient mokkan are historical materials that were prepared by people who lived during the actual period being depicted. Furthermore, the contents of these mokkan help to shed some light on the state of affairs at the time and the intentions of the composer. A more profound understanding of ancient society in Korea can be secured when more materials are accumulated and classified by type and purposes of use, an endeavor that will be made possible by an increase in the discovery of mokkan, and interdisciplinary studies in related fields are developed and implemented.

The three sculptures excavated from P’an’gyo in 2008 are rare examples dating from the early Koryŏ period. This article examines the period of manufacture of the gilt-bronze Buddha and bodhisattva excavated from Area C of Zone 10 in P’an’gyo. The iconography of the two statues with hands held together in prayer is not clear. It is possible that they are images of Kṣitigarbha, Sengqie, or Arhat, but none display any one typical iconography. From the excavation site, Northern Song dynasty currency was recovered, and this indicates that the statues are from that period. This is supported by the fact that these two images are similar in style to eleventh-century Song statues. During the Mongol invasions, the region of P’an’gyo was severely affected and its entire population wiped out. Kṣitigarbha belief would have acquired currency as the area rehabilitated. This article puts forward the hypothesis that after the Mongol invasions, the statues, which originally represented Sengqie to “protect” the area, came to be regarded as images of Kṣitigarbha. The popularity of Kṣitigarbha belief, after the country suffered greatly from Mongol attacks, can be confirmed by the existence of Kṣitigarbha images that have survived from that period. Even if these statues are difficult to analyze on the basis of style and iconography, they show not only distinct regional characteristics, but are important examples that reveal the local beliefs of the late Koryŏ Dynasty.

Yi Hwang and Yi I, who were one generation apart, played a central role in Chosŏn’s academic and political areas. They took the inner sage and outer sovereign as their academic ideal and accomplished great achievements regarding the ligi-simsŏng theories related to Neo-Confucianism based on Zhu Xi’s philosophy. They have more in common with each other than they have differences. Nevertheless their philosophies were quite dissimilar. Yi Hwang made clear the ethical orientation that should be pursued, by means of clearly distinguishing from all the other kinds of emotions, judgments, and behaviors those ones based on li. And he focused on mindfulness as a method of practice in order to materialize li without distortion by external environments or personal desires. Yi I attempted to offer a logical basis for the relationship between li and ki by strictly following the concept of definitions and examples from the ligi theory. This perspective may be conducive to explaining phenomena, however, this fails to offer a force able to change the psychophysical component of the self and guide society into further good. For this reason, Yi I notes the will and intention of mind-heart to turn from vice to virtue through self-cultivation. While Yi Hwang’s Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning focused on the learning and cultivation of the ruler, Yi I’s Essentials of Sage Learning emphasized the roles of the wise and ethical subordinates around the king. Given that Yi Hwang and Yi I were both intellectuals and public officials, it is difficult to separate their academic pursuits from their political practices. Therefore, their theoretical differences can explain their worldly and political choices.

This article examines the notion of patriarchy and patrimonialism in Korean society during mid-Chosŏn through an empirical analysis of wedding and funeral rituals as portrayed in the sixteenth-century diaries of members of the Korean elite. Although Korean society during the Chosŏn era has been regarded as strongly patriarchal because of its Confucianization, the findings of this study provide further evidence of the fact that f lexibility s till e xisted. F or i nstance, t he d iaries a nalyzed i n t his s tudy s how t hat newlywed couples resided temporarily at the bride’s house, thus indicating that the Confucian transformation of the wedding rite remained incomplete as late as the sixteenth century. This is also evidenced by transitional aspects associated with yangban funeral rites at this time, namely the recognition of maternal kinship and the unsettled nature of primogeniture rule. Even though funeral ceremonies at the household level were performed in stricter accordance with orthodox Confucian rituals than those related to nuptials, the extent of Confucian piety exhibited across all social classes in the preparation of funeral rites hints at the less rigid nature during the sixteenth century of the patriarchal domination that characterized traditional Korean society. Meanwhile, the historical existence of a self-manufacturing domestic economy and the yangban’s appropriation of government provisions—i.e. public goods being used for private purposes such as the carrying out of household Confucian rites—confirm the presence of patrimonial characteristics in mid-Chosŏn. The fact that mutual assistance between neighbors and close acquaintances at the community level was rooted in Korean tradition implies that communal networks of mutual-aid may have been an indigenous and essential resource in the performance of rituals in Korean society at the time.

This study explores the nexus of discontinuities and continuities in the Korean judicial system between the traditional court system before the 1894 reform and the allegedly modern post-reform judicial system. Despite the 1894 reform’s obvious achievements such as centralization of judicial hierarchy, institutionalization of modern penal system, and separation of civil and criminal court, the 1894 reform did not succeed in making the break with the past that the reformers had purported to achieve. Rather, the post-reform judicial system still featured strong continuity with the traditional institutions and practices. This continuity of traditional legal system not only posed serious obstacle to the judicial reform undertaken by Korean themselves, but also gave rise to an expectation for the Japanese rule on the part of many Korean reform intellectuals after the protectorate treaty of 1905, paving the way to the emergence of colonial modernity in Korea.

This article focuses on the meanings of ‘hero’ and ‘heroic’ in works by Sin Ch’aeho (1880–1936) and his mentor in the issues of modernity, Liang Qichao (1873–1929). The article aims at reconsidering the influence of Confucianism on the modernist projects of Sin and Liang respectively. In addition, the way in which the mutually different nature of this influence was related to the political outlooks of these two thinkers is also considered. The article concludes that in the case of Liang Qichao, who retained confidence in the elite responsible for China’s future, the image of modern heroes was relatively similar to that of Confucian “sages” and “worthies”. On the other hand, in view of Korea’s desperate situation at that time, Sin Ch’aeho hoped that the heroes would emerge from the “masses” rather than from the elite. Sin’s heroes also tended to be more self-sacrificing and stoic in nature.

This article examines Korean “conversion literature” in the context of its analogous relationship to kamsangnok (“record of impressions”) contained in the Kyŏngsŏng District Court (Prosecution Division) Document File at the National Institute of Korean History (NIKH). The kamsangnok at the national archive are essays written by political prisoners. While they appear under many different titles, their purpose was singular: to make prisoners repent their offenses. Leftist intellectuals, for example, recanted their views by writing kamsangnok. In fact, in order to prove their “ideological conversion,” they had to write kamsangnok, not once, but repeatedly, while they were in the custody of the colonial authorities. These essays, which should more properly be called “conversion narratives,” had to conform to certain rules of writing, or what I call “conversion grammar,” in order to effectively serve their purpose. The article describes the grammar, as delineated from representative prison essays, and it argues that the same grammar is found in the chŏnhyang sosŏl, or “conversion novels,” published toward the end of World War II, namely, the end of the colonial period in Korea. The example used in the article for analyzing the relationship between a work of conversion literature and the prison conversion narratives is Tŭngbul (1942) by Kim Namch’ŏn, a member of the Korea Artista Proleta Federatio (KAPF, 1925–1935) who became a well-known chŏnhyang chakka, or a writer of conversion literature, upon his release from prison in the 1930s, who then actively re-engaged in communist causes following the end of Japanese colonial rule in 1945. In analyzing Kim Namch’ŏn’s work, and in particular its relationship with the prison essays, the article argues that they are analogous not only in terms of their use of the grammar of conversion, but also in terms of the state surveillance system under which they were written. The article further argues that conversion novels in Korea cannot be read as representations of a transparent authorial self, as in Japanese I-novels, but as portrayals of how a normative and schizophrenic authorial self is formed under the disciplinary powers of the state.

Kim Myŏngsun (1896–1951) experienced a difficult life despite her career, which seemed alluring to the eyes of aspiring young women in colonial Korea: she was a novelist, a poet, a translator, an actress, and a journalist during a time when only a handful of women could have professions in the cultural sector. Kim’s personal and public life was filled with numerous challenges; she constantly faced criticism for her “vanity,” “licentiousness,” and “lack of literary talent,” attributes that were often associated with New Women like Kim. Criticism put forward by male writers and literary critics was especially harsh, and their fictional and journalistic accounts of Kim largely contributed to the creation of her negative image: she was branded as a “fallen woman” for she was neither a “good mother” nor a “chaste woman.” Male writers’ malicious attacks on the New Women were a manifestation of masculinity that was rearranged in the process of colonialism: the hierarchy between the colony and the metropole was renegotiated in the cultural domain where male social elites reclaimed their patriarchy at the expense of female subjectivity. This article attempts to uncover how gender, sexuality, and nationhood were mutually constituted in the New Woman discourse in colonial Korea by examining essays and columns in a magazine, Sin yŏsŏng (The New Woman), and juxtaposing literary representation and self-representation of the New Woman. It analyzes fictional narratives by Kim Myŏngsun and Kim Tongin (1900–1951), examining conflicting views on the New Woman wherein the politics of gender and sexuality intersect with cultural nationalism and colonialism.

During the Pacific War, problems concerning the future of Korea were actively discussed in the conferences of the Institute of Pacific Relations (IPR, 1925–1960), which was noted as an international non-governmental organization specializing in problems in the Asia-Pacific region. In its international conferences (Mont Tremblant, Quebec, Canada, 1942; Hot Springs, Virginia, U.S., 1945), decolonization was the most controversial issue because it was deeply concerned with defining not only the war ideology, but also the nature of the postwar world order. The Korean problem was treated in relation to the future of the occupied areas of Japan, and all options were on the table. This article describes what kind of an organization the IPR was, and then goes into the details of the diverse views on the future of Korea in its international conferences. The crux of the matter was choosing either to implement a “mandate” over Korea or to allow Korea “immediate independence” after the war. Chinese, British and American delegates attending the conferences generally expressed the view that international administration or some form of international assistance would be needed during the period prior to full admission of Korea to the international community. However, Andrew J. Grajdanzev, research associate of the International Secretariat of the IPR, argued for the immediate independence of Korea. He also maintained that liberated Korea should build “a cooperative commonwealth” based on the nationalization of its main industries and land reform. His argument seems to have reflected a progressive tendency within the International Secretariat after the Great Depression.

The traditional theme of the prostitute in popular texts has been ubiquitously employed in different times and cultures. In the South Korean context, the cultural representation of prostitutes was most prominent in ‘hostess (a Korean euphemism for prostitute) films’ during the 1970s. This was an ironic turn of events, given that state censorship was at its peak during the military regime (1960–1979). During the 1970s, South Korean cinema was often referred to as having hit a low point due to state regulation of films. However, hostess films became box office hits and contributed to the rejuvenation of the declining Korean movie industry. Hostess films are characterized by the dichotomy of realism and the hyper-stylistic representation of their heroines. They dealt with realistic issues related to the migration of peasant women during the industrialization of South Korea and involve the contradictory presentations of highly unrealistic, idealized heroines. While conventional Hollywood films portray sexually fallen women as immoral and eroticized, hostess films instead, focus on their extremely selfless and inherently good natures. The sacrificial qualities of hostess women often involve films with tragic endings that generically conclude with a heroine sacrificing herself for the sake of a man, a family and/or a nation. This article traces the cultural construction of the prostitute in popular texts and scrutinizes the major conventions of South Korean hostess films. In doing so, this work unspools how wider discourses concerning female sexuality, gender, and cultural politics were waged over the films’ deployment of the bodies of women and sex during a key formative period of Korean history.

The cyber harassment of South Korean pop star Tablo circa 2010 illustrates numerous interlocking social issues including Internet participation, perpetuation of hate crimes and slander, globalization, nationalism, military service, and the vital importance of education in Korean society. This case indicates the necessity of revisiting the Internet’s functions in social movement and communication. To explore why and how this unique online incident occurred in South Korea,1 I reviewed the literature on Internet research, criminology, and hegemony. After conducting these reviews, two broad aims for this study became clear. The first is to critically examine the ways that some bloggers spread baseless rumors about Tablo. The second aim is to clarify the circumstances in which current hegemonic discourses have developed in Korea on military service and educational background. My argument is that neither grand concepts nor generalizations can capture the intrinsic attributes of the Internet and online participation (in or outside of Korea). Instead, discontinuity, plurality, and contingency, rather than progress and inevitability, approximate the reality of the Internet and online participation. For this reason, scholarship is needed that inquires into more nuanced practices of the Internet that are also situated in social environments and articulated with local histories. Revisiting the Tablo case encourages Koreans to rethink and re-embrace the values of coexistence and tolerance.