Dynamic Korea and Rhythmic Form. Katherine In-Young Lee
description of the setting—the Seoul-based Konggan Sarang and the community of cultural activists who nurtured what I call the SamulNori project. This is followed by my examination of the ways in which the sounds of samul nori first captivated listeners. Through careful analysis of ethnographic interviews, oral histories, and the accounts of music critics and fans, I reveal the strands of the positive reception that eventually led to the outward spread of the genre and the South Korean government’s promotion of this repertory of music as a dynamic symbol of South Korean culture.
FIGURE 1.1 Sign for the Space Theater (Konggan Sarang). Photograph by author.
SPACE THEATER: SETTING THE SCENE
Most histories of SamulNori begin by paying tribute to the Space Theater / Konggan Sarang Sogŭkchang (“Love of Space” Small Theater) located in northern Seoul (figure 1.1). This was the vaunted place where the percussion quartet first debuted in 1978. More precisely, it was a small theater tucked in the basement of a redbrick building that became the site of many important performances of traditional Korean music (figure 1.2). The building served as the headquarters for the Konggan (Space) Group and was designed by Kim Sugŭn (1931–1986), one of South Korea’s most esteemed architects of the twentieth century.6 Kim’s Konggan Group oversaw distinct but connected ventures: an architectural firm; an influential monthly publication; an art gallery and café; and the Space Theater.7
Konggan—an arts, architecture, and culture periodical—frequently published Kim’s thoughts on a wide range of topics.8 Kim wrote essays on history, culture, and identity. He also reflected frequently on South Korea as a modernizing nation. Historian Alain Delissen’s meticulous survey and analysis of the Konggan publications from 1960 to 1990 paint a portrait of Kim Sugŭn as an ardent cultural nationalist who was simultaneously invested in researching and reclaiming South Korea’s “lost” history while also contributing to its modern infrastructure. As an architect, Kim chose to “pursue the bolder ambition of pulling architecture out of the then purely technical field of construction engineering for transformation into an art, socially legitimate, that would be both genuinely Korean (rooted in the past) and distinctively modern (opened onto the time of the world)” (Delissen 2001, 246). His commitment to the traditional culture of Korea’s past was reflected in his patronage of the arts. As a “cultural activist” interested in giving voice and a venue to traditional Korean culture, Kim Sugŭn was instrumental in creating the artistic milieu that fostered the genesis of the SamulNori quartet.9
Kim appointed Kang Chunhyŏk [also written as Kang Joon-hyuk] as the artistic director of the Space Theater. Kang (1947–2014) had a background in Western classical music and earned a degree in aesthetics from Seoul National University.10 He presided over a diverse range of programming; regular series included the Evening of Ballet, the Evening of Jazz, and traditional Korean dance.11 Kang utilized Konggan Sarang’s austere form to his advantage in planning an adventurous array of performances:
It [Konggan] wasn’t an example of a proscenium stage—there was no such operative concept. That’s likely what people dubbed it, though, since it seemed [superficially] to meet some of the criteria. But there was really no place to call a “stage” as such, no seats…. You place seats in that open space, and that becomes the seated area, and the remaining area will become a stage. So to call it a conventional theater would really be a misnomer. I think the only way you could characterize Konggan would be to call it an experimental stage. (Kang Chunhyŏk interview, September 8, 2009)
Kim and Kang’s “experimental stage”—also known as a black box theater—was a flexible space that could accommodate a variety of different configurations and performances. Dancers, chamber musicians, singers, actors, puppeteers, and even shamans performed at Konggan Sarang. In its heyday the Space Theater was at times an avant-garde venue in Seoul that brought together a coterie of like-minded individuals, interested in the folk and modern arts and cultural activism. It was also the first theater of its kind to regularly sponsor and promote traditional Korean music (kugak), inaugurating the monthly Evening of Traditional Music series in 1978. Many of South Korea’s most famous and revered figures in traditional arts performed at the theater (including p’ansori artists Kim Sohŭi and Im Pang’ul, kayagŭm player Pak Kwihŭi, and dancer Yi Maebang).12 This high-caliber presentation of Korean folk music was facilitated in large part by Kang’s discriminating ear and Kim’s personal interest in preserving and revitalizing Korean traditional arts and culture. A year prior to the opening of the Space Theater in April 1977, Kim Sugŭn elaborated on his vision for the experimental stage: “Beyond providing the place to nurture traditional arts, as a theater space, we aim to expand the possibilities and cultivate creative work. The small theater was built in a way so that its form could facilitate the creation of new [types of] theatrical plays. But besides theater, there are also plans to present the best quality chamber music, and to have monthly musical appreciation concerts of p’ansori.”13
FIGURE 1.2 Konggan Sarang’s small theater (Sogŭkchang) in 2009. Photograph by author.
February 22–23, 1978, marked the first installment of the Evening of Traditional Music series at the Space Theater.14 In this program a group of Korean folk music specialists who were part of the Minsogakhoe Sinawi (Folk Music Society “Sinawi”) performed a selection of pieces.15 At the end of the evening a new work was debuted. Four musicians—Kim Duk Soo, Kim Yong-bae [Kim Yongbae], Ch’oe T’aehyŏn, and Yi Chongdae—performed a percussion improvisation called “Uttari p’ungmul.”16 Taking the core percussion instruments used in an older genre of percussion music and dance known as p’ungmul, the quartet offered a sampling of rhythmic patterns drawn from regional p’ungmul variants of South Korea’s Kyŏnggi and Ch’ungch’ŏng Provinces (sometimes referred to as the Uttari region).17 Inside the Space Theater, the four men presented rural percussion music that was traditionally performed outdoors by a large number of farmers and villagers.
Kim Duk Soo and Kim Yong-bae were the bona fide percussionists of the group; Ch’oe had majored in haegŭm (two-string fiddle), and Yi specialized in wind instruments.18 But as many folk musicians are proficient in more than one instrument, this difference in musical training did not hinder the performance. The reception of that first performance was unexpectedly enthusiastic, and it has since been inscribed with mythic import as the “birth of SamulNori” (samul nori ŭi t’ansaeng) by the South Korean media and in SamulNori’s own press materials. Although the “original SamulNori quartet” with members Kim Duk Soo, Kim Yong-bae, Lee Kwang Soo [Yi Kwangsu], and Choi Jong Sil [Ch’oe Chongsil] did not actually convene on February 22, 1978, the seed of the samul nori genre sprouted at that first performance.
NOVEL YET FAMILIAR
A symposium organized by SamulNori Hanullim in 2006 brought together experts and scholars to examine SamulNori / samul nori’s past, present, and future. Reflecting on SamulNori’s “past,” Kang Chunhyŏk discussed the reception and unforeseen impact of the first performance of “Uttari p’ungmul” at the Space Theater.19
On that day, the audience heard nongak [literally, “farming music”] being performed in a seated position for the very first time.20 The karak [rhythmic patterns] themselves were old since they were steeped in the world of nongak; rather it was the configuration of such rhythmic patterns that was new. If in the past, the people who came to see nongak were spectators, then on that day, these were the curiously inquisitive who came to see a musical performance—thus, an audience. In other words, it was the first performance of its kind where we were able to focus more on the auditory dimensions over the visual ones in our [p’ungmul] rhythms. It was a revelation to both the performers themselves and the audience alike that our rhythms were this diverse, charming, exciting and energetic. (Kang Joon-hyuk 2006, 11)
Kang’s testimony conveys the sense of wonder that audience members