Mt. Geumgang

Mt. Geumgang

1995 · 454×182 cm · Korean Paper, Acrylic on Canvas

Keywords #Mt. Geumgang#Jingyeongsansu

Image size 21.3 MB

Exhibitions

2016 〈Mt. Geumgang: At the End of the Earth and Sky〉 · TOPOHAUS Art Center (Solo exhibition)

Citation

Related materials for this work

Text Review 2015-03-03 · Shin Dong-in

Beyond Longing, Hand In Hand (2015)

The 1988 Olympics in Seoul, Republic of Korea, were enough to astonish the people of the world. Of a Korea that had endured the harsh Japanese colonial seizure of the early twentieth century and that, with the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950, had been split into South and North and reduced to utter ruin, the foreign correspondents of the time called it "a country with no tomorrow." That Korea staged the 1988 Olympics successfully alongside dazzling economic growth. The message Koreans sent to the world, after overcoming their tragic modern history, appears in the theme song of the Seoul Olympics, "Hand In Hand." Beyond the ceaseless ideological strife in the world and the East–West confrontation, it expressed the longing for "peace," to go forward together. In spite of such yearning, in 2015 the Republic of Korea still confronts the North across the line, gun barrels facing one another. North Korea's armed provocations against the world remain ongoing as if scarcely new. Worse, the sheer misery of the lives of the North Korean people — where the dignity of the human has wholly collapsed and they suffer hunger and poverty — sounds a historical alarm to us who live in the "modern" age called the twenty-first century. As in the Seoul Olympics theme song, we would like to take hand in hand, but a historical boundary keeps us from meeting — a long triple wire fence running across the middle of the Korean peninsula from west to east. At its end, beyond the armistice line, sits "Mt. Geumgang," famous for breathtaking scenery and revered as a historical landmark, today a symbol of the yearning for "peaceful unification."
Shin Jang-sik is well known in Korea as the "Mt. Geumgang" painter. For twenty-two years, from 1993 to the present, he has been absorbed in the subject of "Mt. Geumgang." Before turning to his journey toward "Mt. Geumgang" and the survey of his artistic world, there is a part of his record we cannot leave out: he served as assistant art director for the opening and closing ceremonies of the 1988 Seoul Olympics. For him, the experience of the "Olympics" became a great landmark in forming his subsequent body of work. The core question that runs through his work is precisely "What are Korean values?" This is not a discourse circling only within a single nation but a concern shaped by the historical question of an "encounter with the world." Today there are many words and varied images about Korea shared with the people of the world — K-POP, Samsung — yet the problem-consciousness placed before the young painter Shin Jang-sik in 1988 was, compared with today, more fundamental. It was a search not for a packaging of the so-called "Miracle on the Han" — astonishing economic development — but for the embodiment of the culture and spirit, the historical identity carried within it. To stand confidently before the world for the first time through the Olympics, Koreans shed blood, sweat, and tears; the longing to share these as the universal global values of "affirmation" and "hope" while embedding within them a Korean aesthetic consciousness — this was the "zeitgeist" he felt deeply through the Seoul Olympics. The first overseas exhibition of the painter Shin Jang-sik, "Arirang," in Berlin in 1989, was precisely the fruit of that. His interest then turned toward a broader historical recognition, and that direction was "Mt. Geumgang."
Since the division of the South and the North, was, for Koreans, a mystical and longed-for object — within sight, yet beyond reach. With the start of Mt. Geumgang tourism between the two Koreas on November 18, 1998, Koreans could for the first time in half a century see Mt. Geumgang with their own eyes. Mt. Geumgang then took its place as a site symbolizing the seeds of South-North exchange and reconciliation, peace and unification; even reunions of separated families were held there. The painter Shin Jang-sik's Mt. Geumgang painting too can be seen to have changed in expression around 1998. Until he saw the actual Mt. Geumgang in person, the Mt. Geumgang he painted for some five years can be called "gwannyeom sansuhwa (conceptual landscape painting, 관념 산수화)." Unreachable, it was for him not a sensuous object but an imagined space — a conceptual object that might appear in legend. Mt. Geumgang was a landscape that existed clearly and nearby, yet, blocked by historical barriers, could only exist in imagination — a place to be sought only in forgotten documents and in paintings left by our ancestors. The traditional subject-matter and decorativeness characteristic of his works in the early 1990s, transposed through the ideational medium of "Mt. Geumgang" and through the traditional East Asian form of sansuhwa (Korean landscape painting), became more structured. He could therefore build a formal world not through a descriptive method reflecting ordinary landscape but in a more spiritual, ideational form. Many critics who surveyed his body of work tried to explain it through the bipartite frame of harmony of form and content, theme and expression. Such criticisms, however, can be seen as merely internal debates within the small category called "art." Rather than understanding Shin Jang-sik's body of work nationally, or by the internal principles of art, what matters is to bring forth the historical implications that could only hide beneath the cloak of "formal vocabulary." The core question, accordingly, must be more challenging: "What does Mt. Geumgang mean to the people of the world?"
The tragic war, the Korean War, and the South-North division that took place on the Korean peninsula at the edge of Northeast Asia is by no means only the domestic history of the Republic of Korea. In the mid-twentieth century, the center of global confrontation and conflict — the battlefield of ideology and the Cold War — was precisely the darkened Korean peninsula. The U.S. political scientist Zbigniew Brzezinski's concept of "geopolitics" well shows the context in which the history of the Korean peninsula could only flow as it did. Brzezinski described the Korean peninsula as a "pivot." A "geopolitical pivot" is a globally contested zone arising from the collision of maritime and continental powers. The "Balkans" can be cited as an example. Against the historical whirlwinds that sweep over such regions, the lives of individuals can only arrive as fate. Despite such fated and severe historical trials, Koreans have made painstaking efforts to overcome them. The astonishing economic growth of the Republic of Korea, and the urgent longing for the unification of the Korean peninsula, can be called the urgent yearning for "peace" that does not lose hope even amid ruin. Accordingly, the step toward overcoming division and toward a unified Korea stands on the historical road that realizes the universal values of humanity.
Until 1998, the painted by Shin Jang-sik abstractly and paradoxically revealed the historical idea — invisible in form — of "Cold War" and "ideology" that justified the South-North division. Yet the Mt. Geumgang he painted is by no means a painting bound only to "idea" — confined to an imagined frame. Across a solemn, energy-filled blue canvas, his signature dripping technique reveals a living vitality. Although it is an imagined landscape, a landscape shaped by formal vocabulary, the artist's expressive will, his will to freedom filled with energy, is ardently revealed on the canvas. After the first Mt. Geumgang tours began in 1998, the wonder he felt on seeing the site in person can scarcely be imagined. Only after witnessing with his own eyes the long-longed-for landscape he had patiently held within himself could his Mt. Geumgang undergo a new transformation. It became the occasion for being born again from "gwannyeom sansuhwa (conceptual landscape painting)" into "jingyeong sansuhwa (true-view landscape painting, 실경 산수화)." Compared to his earlier abstract expression, the more concrete depiction of the mountain forms and the harmony of increasingly varied colors strengthened the lyricism of landscape and expressed a more hopeful, future-oriented, positive energy. Even so, his thirst, manifested through Mt. Geumgang, cannot be said to have been fully quenched. Constrained by the nature of tourism, he could see only restricted places; and above all, the core — the historical reality of "the division of the Korean peninsula" — had not changed at all. In 2008, after the incident of a tourist being shot dead, Mt. Geumgang tourism has been suspended to this day. His body of work seemed once again to sink back into waiting.
Some may ask: can "culture" and "art" truly change the world? Those critical of the idea insist that behind religion, culture, art, and further behind humanity's spiritual activities lies "economic logic." Many materialist scholars have indeed established this. Coldly seen, this is hard to deny. Even so, the reason culture and art continue to play an important role is in producing the force of "recognition." Such "recognitions" gather and form "justifications," draw out "practice," and open new worlds. In September 2013, the daughter of a high-ranking figure in North Korea secretly defected while studying in China and entered the South. The decisive motive for her defection was nothing other than her admiration for Korean culture as reflected in the media. What is another historical subject through which the force of "recognition" opens a better world? Precisely the question of "human rights." From U.S. President Lincoln, respected in America, to Dr. Martin Luther King, the struggle for the dignity by which humans may live as humans was never an easy road. The historical flow is, like an unseen underground current that gathers to form vast rivers and then a sea, a flow that demands long patience. Even if, against the history of humanity, our lives of less than a hundred years are short struggles, history is also the truth that endlessly continues. The lives of the people of North Korea, revealed in UN human rights reports — that actuality is unspeakably grave. Yet movements to address this and to look toward a better world are gradually becoming more visible. From precisely such a flow and view, "culture" and "art" — though they require long patience and historical struggle — can become a clear medium through which the world can be changed.
In 2015, the exhibition of the painter Shin Jang-sik in New York, which one can call the center of the world, will become a crucial turning point in measuring the body of work he will go on to open. If he first faced the world through the 1988 Olympics and began his concern with "Korean values," and if he has, through the theme of "Mt. Geumgang," repeatedly elaborated cultural and historical recognition and concern, the question of what comes next cannot but be asked. Is "Mt. Geumgang" still meaningful? What meaning can "Mt. Geumgang" carry to the people of the world? It is precisely the question of the future. To consider such a call positively and with courage may begin where the artist's own perception of the world expands. What is the greater recognition, the historical implication and justification, that remains for him? From the question "What are Korean values?" given to the young painter in 1988, what is the historical question now placed before the painter Shin Jang-sik in his middle years? Nothing other than "What are the values of a unified Korea?" Ironically, the wheel of history is a fate that repeats, whether small or great. This is precisely the moment one cannot but recall the Olympic theme song "Hand In Hand," which must have struck his heart twenty-seven years before.

1988 Seoul Olympics anthem 〈Hand In Hand〉 — referenced in the essay

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