Art | Millennial Abroad

This is a Busan Ex-Pat City Guide post. Check out the rest of my list here.

Photos by Jess Sternberg (go check her Instagram out here) and the Korean Tourism Organization.

Blogging about the Busan Museum of Art is a stark reminder about how put together I was not upon arrival in Korea. I visited the museum during the second weekend of September – a whole eight and a half months ago! Oy vey. Blame the late blog post on a totally “blissed out, lazy, end of summer 2013” Dylan.

I’m usually pretty ambivalent about museums on the whole. During my summer 2010 trip to Europe, I spent four hours at the Jüdisches Museum in Berlin. It was a thoroughly curated museum, with an excellent exhibit on Jews in comic books. However, I was so overloaded with information that upon departure from Berlin, everything had left my brain. I was not a sponge that summer for anything except World Cup soccer and beer.

This time around, during my year in Busan, I was excited to take in some Eastern-inspired works of art. Given that the Busan Museum of Art is the penultimate subway stop on my journey to work everyday, I figured this would be a good place to start. In addition, Jess and Maddie had their lovely friends Maritza and Steph visiting, and it seemed like a positively cultured way to introduce the girls to the city.

The Busan Museum of Art had some pretty excellent elements. First of all, it was free entrance (great news for the frugal). The complex itself is large, modern, and well-maintained (as it should be – it was only opened in 1998). The museum has five exhibition halls with hardwood floors throughout, along with archives and interactive learning rooms. The exhibits didn’t feel too overwhelming – the average person (read: me) could enter any given section and feel comfortable identifying general themes and representations.

When the girls and I visited, the main exhibit was titled The Art of Prayers, featuring pieces of art donated by the Korean-Japanese artist Ha Jung-Woong. The exhibit consisted of three different sections: Prayers, Evidence, and Happiness. Each section hoped to represent regret and despair, record “art as historic evidence”, and show “art which provides happiness”, respectively. The section I remember the best was Prayers, which featured a series of woodcuts titled “The Story of Hanaoka”. These vivid reenactments of the uprisings and massacres at the Hanaoka mine in 1945 were particularly realistic and brutal, as well as an exercise in gratitude on my part.

In addition, there were two exhibits by Kim Bong Tae (titled “Accumulation”) and Shin Sang Ho (tilted “Final Frontier”). The Kim Bong Tae exhibit was almost Warholian, but in a totally nondescript way (read: stacked, differently coloured boxes). The Shin Sang Ho exhibit was slightly more interesting, with bright, ceramic sculptures and airplanes inspired by “the unknown world depicted by Star Trek screenwriter Eugene Roddenberry”.

The exhibit we enjoyed the most was the one designed for children (obviously). We entered a dark room, and were immediately delighted when a series of colourful projections began parading about the walls. An older Korean man approached us afterwards to inform us that his young daughter had drawn the pictures and he had turned them into projections. This room of projections was easily the best part of the museum. We joked about the room just needing some EDM to make it a real party.

My trip to the Busan Museum of Art was perhaps more of an exercise in taking derpy photos with my friends than a truly cultural experience. That said, I feel like I did gain some real exposure to different forms of Korean art during my two hour visit to the museum, which was my original goal anyway. You don’t have to remember it all, you just have to appreciate it all.

Directions
To get to the Busan Museum of Art, take the Green Line on the Busan Subway (Line 1) to the Busan Museum of Art Station (stop 205). Go out exit 5 and walk straight for about two minutes. The museum will be right in front of you.

This is a Busan Ex-Pat City Guide post. Check out the rest of my list here.

Busan: The city of dreams, with its towering skyscrapers, sandy beaches, and hiking apparel stores as far as the eye can see. However, one can’t help but feel a little uninspired every once in a while in this bustling, concrete, ultra-modern metropolitan. The sea of identical-looking apartments, usually some “off” shade of brown, white, or gray, can be visually exhausting and the homogenous nature of most neighbourhoods is often slightly depressing (read: any given city block is as follows – Baskins Robbins, an Olleh phone store, Starbucks, a KT phone store, Caffe Bene, a second Olleh phone store, Dunkin Donuts, a third OIleh phone store, and so on…).

Thankfully, the hills of Saha-gu offer a perfectly vibrant outlet for those pining for an escape from the urban solitude of Busan: the Gamcheon Culture Village. Gamcheon, affectionally dubbed “Lego Village”, takes the mantra of Pocahontas (“paint with all the colours of the wind”) to new heights, as the majority of its 10,000 residents live in pink and blue and yellow and green pastel-hued homes.

Allow me to rattle off, at an auctioneers pace, the history, and establishment of Gamcheon: during the 1950s, refugees flocked to Busan in the wake of the Korean War, and established a shanty town of sorts, that over the next two decades was transformed into the village of block-style houses that remain today. The rest of Busan industrialized and modernized at a rapid fire pace while Gamcheon remained “old school” and relatively poor in comparison. Just over five years ago, the Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism hired artists to work with Gamcheon’s residents to create and install murals reflective of the “Taeguk” (yin and yang symbol) throughout the village, and thus, the Gamcheon Culture Village known today was born. [Note: For deeper insights about the history of Gamcheon, follow the jump to this fantastic article on Busan Haps, written by Jessica Steele.]

After seeing pictures of the village from early December when Maddie, Jess, and our friend Marta visited, I knew a visit to Gamcheon was imminent. Six weeks later, on a gloomy Saturday afternoon, I, along with fellow wanderluster and close friend, Mary, journeyed by subway and taxi to the culture village in the hopes that the bright village would serve as a distraction from the gray January skies.

Immediately upon arrival, Mary and I began derping around the village, leaving written messages wholly indicative of our respective personal brands on the walls of the village photo gallery, performing headstands and wheels on the observation deck’s soaking wet AstroTurf, and purposefully avoiding the numerous paved footpaths in favour of bounding down the treacherous and hilly grasslands of Gamcheon. Our egos swelled at the applause we received for our yoga poses from other tourists and our sides ached from giggling as we gracelessly descended Gamcheon’s hills.

Like most of South Korea, Gamcheon is brimming with bizarre idiosyncrasies. In one instance, I happened to peer into the open door of a bungalow whilst walking down a deserted alley, and I kid you not, there was a young Korean woman immobile on the floor, encased in Saran Wrap. Like, the kind that your mom would wrap your elementary school baloney sandwiches in. Given that Mary and I are both tall individuals with long legs, I thought that maybe my eyes had played a simple trick on me as a result of my brisk stride. Mary turned back to verify my claim and the look of shock and slight horror on her face confirmed that there was indeed a poor young woman likely waiting to be devoured like a bulgogi* sandwich. In another instance, we climbed a flight of stairs that had been painted to resemble an ascending library, each step representing a literary classic. One step was particularly larf-worthy, emblazoned with the classic Konglish phrase “YOU NEED DIET”. Korea, you’re strange but I really do (mostly) love it.

The beauty of Gamcheon is that you’re basically a lab rat, running through a never-ending maze THAT YOU CAN’T LOSE AT. Detoured off the main road to venture down a twisty alley that caught your eye? That’s cool, if you go down those three staircases there, take 6 lefts, and walk backwards with your eyes closed, you will literally end up back where you started. Mary and I wandered aimlessly for about 20 minutes, somehow stumbled upon the village’s main entrance, and then pretended like the nonsensical path we chose had been our planned route all along. Foolproof.

My advice to prospective visitors varies based on personality. For the flexible, “go with the flow” types, let the colours of Gamcheon speak to inner spirit, as you float through the narrow alleys. The element of surprise upon accidentally stumbling across the various art installations is a treat in itself. For the more structured, “type A” tourist, I would recommend some pre-departure research and an investment in a village map detailing the locations of each respective village landmarks. [Note: These maps are sold at the tourist information centre and retail for 2,000 won.]

Quietly quirky, the Gamcheon Culture Village is a nice reminder that it’s always best to march to the beat of your own janggu**.

Directions
To get to the Gamcheon Culture Village, take the Red Line on the Busan Subway (Line 1) to Toseong Station (stop 109). Take exit 8, walking straight until you reach the bus stop at the PNU Cancer Center. Take mini-bus 2 or 2-2 for approximately 10 minutes until you reach the stop at Gamcheon Elementary School. [Note: A cab from Nampo Station (Red Line, stop 111) costs about 4,000 won.]

* I’ve got to keep my examples Korea specific, okay?

** A janggu is a traditional Korean drum. Korea specific, right?