Reflections on The Modern and Contemporary Korean Calligraphy Exhibition
The Modern and Contemporary Korean Calligraphy is the first comprehensive survey of its kind in Taiwan. But with most Taiwanese unable to read Korean scripts, how can it resonate, and what insights can we gain from it?
Sense of Wander: ★★★☆☆
Booklet for “The Modern and Contemporary Korean Calligraphy” exhibition, detailing the journey of Korean calligraphy from early 20th-century onwards.
TAOYUAN, Taiwan — This summer, the Hengshan Calligraphy Art Centre launched The Modern and Contemporary Korean Calligraphy exhibition. Originally showcased at Deoksugung Palace in Seoul in 2020 and curated by Bae Wonjung, this exhibition offers a comprehensive survey of the evolution of Korean calligraphy in the modern era.
This event marks the first international collaboration between the Taoyuan Museum of Fine Arts and Korea’s National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. It also stands as the first in-depth exploration of Korean calligraphy presented in Taiwan.
While the exhibition is groundbreaking, I’ve been reflecting on what it might mean to the Taiwanese audience, most of whom are unfamiliar with Korean scripts and deeply rooted in the tradition of Chinese calligraphy, or “shufa,” which translates to “the principle of writing.”
Chinese calligraphy has long influenced neighbouring cultures, including Japan and Korea, each of which has developed its own approach to the art. While Chinese calligraphy emphasises the “principle” (fa), Japanese calligraphy is known as “shodo,” or “the way of writing.” In Korea, calligraphy is referred to as “seoye,” or “the art of writing,” reflecting yet another unique perspective on this time-honoured practice.
Calligraphy in Modern Korea: Building on Tradition
The term “seoye,” popularised by Son Jae Hyeong (1903-1981) after Korea’s liberation in 1945, became widely adopted across the country. During this time, calligraphy emerged as a vital medium for Korean artists to revive national art and express Korean modernism.
As I enter the first section of the exhibition, I encounter works by the first generation of Korean calligraphers, where Chinese characters are seen interwoven with Korean alphabets.
Before the creation of the Korean alphabet, Hangul, in the 15th century, Chinese characters, known as Hanja, were Korea’s primary written language, used in official documents, literature, and scholarly works. The use of Chinese characters enabled Korea to engage in diplomacy, trade, and intellectual exchange with China and other neighbouring states, while also shaping the development of Korean language and literature.
These first-generation calligraphers were skilled in the five traditional Chinese calligraphy styles: seal script, clerical script, regular script, running script, and cursive script.
In the exhibition, Kim Eung Hyun’s Copies of the Stele of King Gwanggaeto stands as a monumental work, paying tribute to traditions of calligraphy and the heritage of ancient Korea.
Kim Eung Hyun’s (1927-2007) Copies of the Stele of King Gwanggaeto stands out for its use of Chinese characters. The original Gwanggaeto Stele, erected in 414, is a monumental tribute to King Gwanggaeto the Great (reigned 391–413) of Goguryeo, one of the Three Kingdoms of Korea. This towering stone inscription, one of the largest and oldest in East Asia, chronicles the king’s military conquests, territorial expansions, and the glory of his reign, offering invaluable insights into ancient Korea’s history and culture.
In his work, Kim Eung Hyun meticulously replicates the ancient inscriptions of the Gwanggaeto Stele. His robust characters, with their varied stroke thickness, bring to life this beacon of Korea’s ancient heritage.
This piece also reflects Kim’s embrace of the Stele School of Qing-dynasty China (1644–1911), a movement that emphasised studying and emulating inscriptions on ancient stone steles, rather than relying solely on copying traditional model books. Through this approach, Korean calligraphers gained a deeper understanding of their own traditions.
Lee Gi Woo’s “A Crane Lives for a Thousand Years” pushes the boundary of seal script, infusing modernity into tradition.
In When Drunk, I Become a Daoist Hermit, calligrapher Hyeon Jung Hwa masterfully conveys a state of ecstasy through his expressive cursive script.
In addition to ancient stele scripts, first-generation calligraphers also explored traditional scripts in innovative ways. Lee Gi Woo (1921-1993), renowned as one of Korea’s greatest seal engravers, presents a striking seal-script piece titled “A Crane Lives for a Thousand Years” (鶴壽千歲). His bold style and composition push the boundaries of seal engraving, blending modernity with tradition.
On the other hand, Song Seong Yong’s (1913-1999) Thousand Character Classic showcases a rich mix of clerical, regular, and semi-cursive scripts. Despite its eclectic nature, Song achieves a harmonious blend of styles, completing this intricate work in eight hours.
One of my favourite pieces on display is a 4.3-metre-wide work by Hyeon Jung Hwa (1907-1997). On a piece of paper that has browned with age, Hyeon writes three monumental Chinese characters translating to “When Drunk, I Become a Daoist Hermit.” Through his cursive script, Hyeon captures the state of ecstasy, reflecting his belief that “true masterpieces arise in a balanced state of mild intoxication.”
Hyeon’s work is deeply influenced by the natural beauty of Jeju Island, with his animated brushstrokes drawing attention to the subtleties of nature. The museum labels describe his characters as “dancing cranes,” highlighting the interplay between his calligraphy and the natural world.
Kim Choon Ghyun’s calligraphy in Song of Dosan by Jo Seong Sin combines Chinese characters with Hangul, creating the distinctive “Iljoong-che” style that beautifully merges these two writing traditions.
In Your Silence by Han Yongwoon, Lee Cheol Gyeong elegantly writes palace-style calligraphy, known as “Hangul Gongche,” with remarkable refinement.
While early Korean calligraphers were well-versed in traditional Chinese scripts, innovators like Kim Choon Ghyun (1921-2006) sought to push the boundaries of calligraphy by blending both Chinese and Korean traditions. This exploration gave rise to his distinctive “Iljoong-che” style.
In Song of Dosan by Jo Seong Sin, Kim masterfully integrates Chinese characters with the minimal strokes of Hangul, Korea’s alphabetic system. This seamless fusion of two distinct writing styles sets a precedent for combining Hangul and Chinese calligraphy, sparking curiosity in visitors like myself, who are more familiar with the latter.
Another noteworthy piece is a pair of hanging scrolls by Lee Cheol Gyeong (1914-1989), a passionate advocate of Hangul Gongche, or Korean palace-style script. This style had lost its refinement after the Japanese colonial period, but Lee took the initiative to revive and refine it.
Though I cannot read Hangul, I was fascinated by its elegance and precision observed in Lee’s work. Each brushstroke is executed with meticulous care, resulting in a clean and striking appearance. The vertical strokes, reminiscent of a ballet dancer’s graceful tiptoe, convey a subtle yet powerful sense of movement.
Park Se Ho’s “Longevity” showcases the Chinese character “shou” (“longevity”) in an expressive and individualized style.
Breakthroughs: Is Calligraphy Art?
Traditionally, calligraphy and text are seen as a unified entity. However, modern calligraphy shifts focus, emphasising visual aesthetics over the legibility of the text. This transformation prioritises “visual calligraphy” over “legible calligraphy,” expanding the art form into the realm of visual art.
In the second section of the exhibition, “Revisiting Calligraphy,” we encounter the experiments and breakthroughs of Korea’s second and third-generation calligraphers. One piece that stands out is Hwang Suk Bong’s (1949-) Horse, an impressive work featuring bold, expressive pictographs of the Chinese character for “horse” on unfolded paper box. The piece, with its abstract disorder, harmoniously blends calligraphy with visual art, prompting questions about how far calligraphy can push the boundaries of the unknown and the unseen.
The idea that calligraphy and painting share a common origin is deeply rooted in Chinese artistic traditions. Early Chinese writing, such as oracle bone inscriptions, began as pictographs that fused image and text. Zhang Yan Yuan’s (815-907) Record of Famous Paintings of All Dynasties explores the relationship between calligraphy and painting, highlighting their shared techniques and expressive goals.
Although the 20th century saw a separation of calligraphy from fine arts in Korea, Korean painters actively sought to merge calligraphy with their work, often blending painting and writing in innovative ways.
Lee Ungno’s (1904-1989) Pulse exemplifies this fusion. His abstract painting, characterised by an “all-over style,” draws comparisons to Jackson Pollock’s abstract expressionism. Lee’s work integrates traditional Eastern calligraphy with modern abstract techniques, marking a pivotal moment in Korean abstract painting.
Hwang Suk Bong uses a giant cardboard box as his canvas to depict bold pictographs of the character “horse” in his work of the same title.
Lee Ungno’s Pulse exemplifies the unique blend of Eastern calligraphic traditions with modern abstract techniques.
Amid this surge of creativity, I’m particularly captivated by Kim Tschang Yeul’s (1929-2021) work. On a delicate light blue-washed surface, Chinese calligraphy mingles with the artist’s iconic water droplets, which appear to drip realistically onto the canvas.
The soft blue wash and the fading script evoke the Chinese philosophical concept of “flowers in a mirror and the moon in the water,” reflecting the fleeting nature of beauty and the illusory quality of appearances.
Another intriguing piece is 1997-3 by Lee Chung Ji (1941-2021). Instead of traditional ink, Lee uses oil paints, scraping them away from the canvas to form characters. This unconventional technique not only infuses the work with a rhythmic quality, but also reminds me of Liu Guosong’s (1932-) experimental methods. Liu excels in creating the “feibai” brushstroke by tearing fibers from the paper, resulting in visually compelling works that merge traditional Chinese ink painting with modern artistic expression.
Kim Tschang Yeul’s Recurrence SA07012 draws viewers closer to experience the artist’s iconic droplets and strokes.
In East Winds, Lee Ufan’s spontaneous brushstrokes underscore the versatility of calligraphy within the realm of art.
Lee Sang Hyun infuses pictorial quality into calligraphy, infusing Jindo Arirang with evocative visual narratives.
Reflections on the Art of Calligraphy
In my view, The Modern and Contemporary Korean Calligraphy exhibition excels at tracing the evolution of Korean calligraphy. It highlights the early calligraphers’ adherence to traditions, while showcasing the innovation, breakthroughs, and individualism that define the works by later generations.
Besides the exhibition, I was fortunate to attend a one-day forum on July 7, where experts delved into subject on a deeper love. Professor Kim Yi Soon from Hongik University shared how post-war Korean artists integrated calligraphy into modern art. Meanwhile, Kim Hyun Kwon, Chief Curator at the Kansong Art Museum, discussed the exclusion of calligraphy from fine arts in early 20th-century Korea, and its gradual reemergence in post-war visual arts.
As calligraphers push the boundaries of their art, we witness its transformation into a vibrant and versatile form of artistic expression. The use of calligraphy in design, typography, and art underscores its potential and inspires contemporary calligraphers in and outside of Korea to explore new possibilities.
Yet, after visiting the exhibition, I still grapple with the question: “Is calligraphy art?” As someone who is about to embark on a new venture in calligraphy, this question lingers in my mind.
Perhaps, one might say, the distinction is less important than the ongoing and fluid exchange between art and calligraphy, where each nourishes the other, allowing both to grow and, eventually, blossom.
“… I still grapple with the question: “Is calligraphy art?”
The Modern and Contemporary Korean Calligraphy is on view at the Hengshan Calligraphy Art Centre in Taoyuan, Taiwan, until October 21, 2024.