Before I moved to Seoul, my Korean teacher, despairing of ever teaching me the language, set about trying to convey something of Korean culture. She gave me a gift: a hanji mirror embellished with maedup knotwork and housed in a bojagi silk bag - none of which I could identify at the time. She also presented me with many many free government publications about Korean Cultural Heritage that explained the "ample reasons" why Koreans take such pride in their handicrafts. Once I moved to Seoul, my local Global Village Centre was keen to advance my education on these matters. I have since, dutifully, taken classes in gluing paper, making tiny stitches on patchwork, and tying string into knots.
I am very bad at all of these things. They all require discipline and patience - and I haven't any. On one occasion my Hanji teacher ripped apart my lamp making clucking noises with her tongue and proceeded to use my work as the demonstration piece for the class, thus ensuring that she, and not I, did all the tricky bits. My Bojagi teacher suggested once that I try to sew stitches that were "smaller, closer together, neater and ... more even," and then just confined herself to comments like "you did your homework very ..." and "maybe ironing would make it more beautiful ?" My Maedup teacher - who mostly laughed at me and admired my baby (Iris always comes along to school with me as distraction) - was amazed when after an hour of instruction I finally held up a completed knot: "Oh wow," she would say breathlessly as if I was some sort of signing chimpanzee.
Despite being very unskilled, I really enjoy Korean crafting and have been spending my idle hours at home making bojagi hangings, knotted wristbands, and wondering which articles of my government-issued furniture would look best with paper glued on them. The image above shows some of my work as well as examples of what the stuff is really supposed to look like. (also a picture of Dasik tea cakes from a class that I took Jamie to so he could see Mommy's school and press some flavored rice powder into beautiful wooden molds). Thanks to the tender tutelage of my demanding instructors, I can now identify Korean craft, and recognize its worth. With greater appreciation for these handicrafts (Important Intangible Cultural Properties), comes greater desire: now I covet. Of course I should pay a small fortune for a silk bogagi wall-hanging - look it's perfectly finished on both sides - do you know how hard it is to make it come out like that? Why wouldn't I buy that tourist souvenir with a knotted tassel (IICP#22: maedupjang) - that's a chrysanthemum knot - they are very tricky. Now if only I could find a dragonfly knot or that male butterfly one and wow - do you see that ring-knot - that one turned my finger blue when I tried it at home. But surely you see that I must have those sheets of hand-laid paper (IICP#117: hanjijang) - it's so versatile - I could make dolls or walls or floors or screens or rope, or armor!
So far I have not succumbed to the urge to make major financial investments in the Korean handicraft markets, though I did convince (amazingly by using only hand-gestures) a knot-maker in a traditional clothing market to sell me, not a finished knot, but some of her supplies so that I could keep practicing at home (but not the hand-wrapped-silk-cord dyed with only natural pigment). I may figure out the difference between the life-knot and the death-knot yet - though as it stands I can only do 3 of the 33 traditional knots that I need to know. My fine-sewing will never amount to much I fear, but at least I now have a use for the four giant bins of fabric scraps I carted over here (but oh - of course I should instead buy that naturally-dyed, hand-woven silk or that traditional ramie cloth . . . . it would make it more beautiful). As for Hanji , I am taking another class in January and will be soon gluing Korean mulberry paper (longer and stronger than Japanese mulberry paper - it ventilates well, it isolates well and finally it is sheen and translucent - it will last a thousand years) onto my very own Tea Table or Little Chest of Drawers. Now, if only I could apply the "neatly and more even" principle to the rest of my life: today crafting - tomorrow the world!
