The woman quietly entered the multipurpose hall and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to ask you to leave for a bit. We need to fix a glitch in the video and it has to be done remotely.”
Glitch? I didn’t notice any glitch, or even her approaching, engrossed as I was in the changing, moving landscapes of nature, people, and animals.
“It’s an almost imperceptible glitch minutes ago,” the woman said. “Imperceptible” was right. I rose from my bench still scanning the animated walls for the so-called glitch.
“It’ll only take about 10 minutes,” the woman said. “You can come back after that.”
“No worries,” I told her. “We’ve watched all the videos.”
We followed the woman to the exit and, before she could disappear into the hall’s corner, I said, “Kamsahamnida.” She echoed me, smiling, and was gone. I didn’t catch her name.
Korean Cultural Center on Bayani Road, Taguig
We were at the Korean Cultural Center (KCC) to view Endless Landscape: Digitally Reimagined Korean Art one afternoon. It’s an immersive video exhibition produced by The National Museum of Korea (NMK) to commemorate 75 years of continued diplomatic relations between Korea and the Philippines.
With the Chuncheon National Museum, NMK transformed traditional Korean paintings into videos using new digital technologies. The project is NMK’s initial endeavor under its Overseas Korean Galleries Support Program that seeks to widen the reach of traditional Korean culture.
The mountains hide behind starry skies come nightfall.
The mountains keep travelers company during the day in ‘Endless Mountains and Rivers: A Prosperous World Unfolds in Nature.’
Endless Mountains and Rivers: A Prosperous World Unfolds in Nature is the exhibition’s first digitalized artwork, and it moves compellingly across KCC’s fifth-floor walls. It’s based on the 8.5-m scroll painting titled Endless Mountains and Rivers by the royal court painter Yi Inmun.
We were transported to the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1897), the halcyon days of pre-industrialized living. Sceneries of mountains through the seasons and rivers alternate with images of country folk traveling old-school, i.e., on carts and donkeys, through the vast mountain range and rivers, to get to next village.
The 12:24-minute video was, to my mind, the next best thing to escaping into nature’s serenity from urban, traffic-snarled Manila. There was no feeling of rushing or being rushed as I took in the panorama of ancient Korea where everything—people, animals, and nature— are in rhythmic pacing with one another.
As the scenes changed from day into night, a thought niggled my mind: Prosperity and simple living are possible if avarice is reined in, and the natural environment is not exploited.
King Jeongjo’s royal procession continues into the night.
The palanquin bearing King Jeongjo is one of the highlights of ‘The Royal Processions with the People.’
After “walking” through the countryside, we became part of the crowd of royalty and commoners of more than two centuries ago in The Royal Processions with the People, an 11:21-minute digital work based on the official Uigwe, royal rites and ceremonies of the Joseon Dynasty.
The Uigwe document 500 years of the era’s important royal ceremonies in text and illustrations. Unesco has registered Uigwe as a Memory of the World, noting its uniqueness as a documentary heritage of Korea.
The Royal Processions with the People is based on two historical events. The first is the grand procession in 1795 to Hwaseong Fortress of King Jeongjo, who reigned from 1776 to 1800. For Jeongjo’s subjects celebrating his ascension to the throne, it was a brush with royalty. He was the 22nd king of the Joseon Dynasty, and his procession to Hwaseong (present-day Suwon) took eight days. (Incidentally, his story was recently serialized in the K-drama The Red Sleeve.)
The second is the banquet in 1796 to mark the completion of the piled stone-and-brick Hwaseong Fortress, a Unesco World Cultural Heritage site since Dec. 12, 1997. A festival atmosphere dominates the video, with the dancing, lively music, and synchronized military drills of the period. The drills are particularly impressive, with the soldiers—towering over us—moving in perfect unison.
According to the Unesco site, the Hwaseong Fortress was constructed to house the remains of Crown Prince Jangheon, Jeongjo’s father. The combined commercial, military, and political functions set it apart from the Chinese and Japanese fortresses of that era. Its walls extended nearly 6 km, incorporating defense features. Its floodgates, observation towers, command posts, multiple arrow launcher towers, firearm bastions, secret gates, beacon towers, and bunkers remain intact to this day.
Hwaseong Fortress was designed by Jeong Yakyong, a scholar from the School of Practical Learning, which was known for its carefully planned designs that combined “residential and defensive features (with) the latest scientific knowledge.”
“Observing” the procession, would Jeongjo have noticed his loyal subjects lining the roads as his yeon (palanquin) passed by?
Apparently, reinterpreting the Uigwe, His Majesty would have, and his words project across the wall: “Let the people freely approach and get a good look at the royal procession. Have banquets with the most popular dances and music, so the people can enjoy them together. Make my country the place where every household is rich and every person is happy.”
High above Chongseok Rocks
The sublime beauty of Chongseok Rocks is revealed in ‘Pillars of Divinity, Chongseak Rocks.’
Next is the scenic Chongseok Rocks, the hexagonal rock pillars lining the coast of the Geumgangsan Mountain region. The natural structure deemed “sculpted by divine hands” were a popular subject for writers and painters. Among them was painter-calligrapher Kim Gyugin (1868–1933), whom Emperor Sunjong of the Korean Empire (1897-1910) commissioned for a painting. The result was Scenic view of Chongseok Rocks, an 8.8 m-long painting that decorated Heejeongdang Hall, Sunjong’s office at Changdeokgung Palace.
Kim’s painting was transformed into a 4:30-minute video artwork, Pillars of Divinity, Chongseok Rocks, that brought me as close to the awesome landscape, having me fly to the top, around, and beyond the pillars, and “walk” on water. I was exhilarated, even with my stomach somersaulting as I watched the scenes drop and then soar into the air.
Peonies represent the authority and grandeur of the royal courts.
The tour ended with Peonies in Bloom, a 2:34-minute video based on the two-panel painting of peonies which originally hung in a palace in the Joseon Dynasty, but is now part of NMK’s collection.
We were immersed in a breathtaking garden of enormous, colorful peonies. Who’d imagine feeling lilliputian in coming face to face with gargantuan flowers? Not me.
Known as the “King of Flowers,” peonies are splashed across the walls, reflecting the splendor of the former royal courts in Korea, particularly when they’re in full bloom in late spring. The flowers are held in reverence for their beauty and are symbols of wealth and prosperity. They are emblems in royal ceremonies and buildings.
In K-drama, I learned Korea’s history and culture by finding familiar points with the emotions, circumstances of the characters, and the cultural norms. With digitalized K-art, I picked up on the theoretical underpinnings of a monarchy, with its pomp and pageantry amid the resplendent landscapes of the Joseon period. The latter contrasts starkly with today’s global natural environment that’s quickly, scarily, giving way to concrete jungles.
I left the KCC musing on how the Philippine art scene could undergo a similar undertaking. It’d be awesome to see Spoliarium (or Hymen, oh Hyménée!) by Juan Luna, Harvest Scene by Fernando Amorsolo, Fish Harvest at Dawn by Anita Magsaysay-Ho, and Screaming Figures by Ang Kiukok, to name only a few, rendered in digital form.
Endless Landscape: Digitally Reimagined Korean Art is on view, free admission, until June 29 at the Korean Cultural Center, 59 Bayani Road, Taguig City. It’s open from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Mondays to Saturdays and closed on holidays.
