Seoul Fashion Week Takes First Successful Step toward Privatization

 This post is being treatment published here on our site as it goes into the queue and the Huffington Post for obviously much wider distribution. It’s been posted here in order to get editorial feedback during this process.

As part of the Korean government’s larger goal of helping to promote what are commonly referred to as Korea’s “culture industries,” and in the context of the rising global prominence of certain Korean cultural products in recent years that has been commonly referred to as the “Korean wave,” the Korean fashion industry has been the focus of increased attention and investment of public sector resources in the industry event called “Seoul Fashion Week,”the Korean analogue to similar fashion industry event “weeks” across the world, including the major series of shows from Paris to Milan, New York to London, and all the way to Tokyo. Very recently, Seoul Fashion Week has set as its goal to entering anywhere from the top five Fashion Weeks across the globe to the top seven, in which traditional national and cultural rival Tokyo brings up the rear. Whether the goal has been the lofty one of joining the ranks of top Western fashion capitals or merely to bump shoulders with Japan,the Korean fashion industry, as defined by its most prominent designers as organized into myriad industry  organizations, has enjoyed generous financial support from the national and city governments ever since it adopted the moniker “Seoul Fashion Week” in the year 2000.

Leading Korean designer and CFDK founder and director Lie Sang Bong drops knowledge for this article.
PHOTO CREDIT: Hyesoo Kwon

Seoul fashion week most recently displayed the work of Korea’s top fashion designers from last March 25 to March 29, at an event split between 2 venues run by separate organizations working together in tandem to put on the event. The main Seoul Fashion Week brand, which until 3 seasons ago administrated solely by the Seoul city government and its representative body the Seoul Business Association, worked with the private PR firm Innocean this season to kick off the week of fashion shows from the IFC Mall, which is housed in the center of Seoul’s business district in Yeouido. The newly-created Council of Fashion Designers of Korea (CFDK) administered and held about half of the main runway shows  at the venue Blue Square in the Hannam neighborhood of Seoul. (CFDK having done 26 main shows, and Seoul City responsible for 30 at the IFC Mall venue) Representatives of both Seoul city and CFDK were eager to point out that the dual venues did not reflect any rift or rivalry between the 2 associated administrating organizations.

The fact that such rifts have existed in the past may partially explain why all parties involved have been so eager to emphasize the existence of a unified front in the administration of Seoul fashion week, with aneye towards staving off any possible rumors that it may be a similar kind of conflict behind the decision to spread the event across 2 separate venues.

SFW attendee Youra Kim adds local and actual color to the street just outside the front of the Blue Square venue.

Indeed, in the past, Seoul fashion week has been marred by individual fashion design organizations deciding to break off and hold their own separate events, as used to be the case in the recent past, when the Seoul Fashion Artists Association (SFAA) used to regularly stage their own collection of shows completely separately from Seoul Fashion Week.

And most recently in the winter of 2011 and 2012, a personal conflict that had arisen from internal criticisms from an individual within the Seoul city-funded SBA organization reached the Ministry of Culture and Tourism, boiled over and erupted into a public meleé of defamation lawsuits that resulted in all public funding being cut from the Seoul Business Association, which had been the organization tasked with administering Seoul Fashion Week, resulting in a cutoff in funding for Seoul Fashion Week and throwing the question of that event’s organizational administration into the air. As a result, the first SFW season after the internecine battles had subsided, which resulted in the public crippling of SFW’s funding,  found itself  haphazardly organized and held in outdoor tents in a public park last March 2012 in an event that has been described as having been not much different than a poorly-organized trade show. By the next SFW in October 2012, the remnants of the SBA and Seoul city government organizers had arranged the event to take place in the war Memorial Museum of Korea, which was officially administered by the PR firm Peopleworks, Inc., and was an event roundly criticized by the domestic fashion press as having been poorly carried out and which marked a step backwards for both SFW and the stature of Korean fashion designers internationally.

So, all eyes and ears were closely attuned to what would be happening this most recent season, which took place in late March 2013. Given the fact of many previous factional disputes within the Korean fashion industry in the past, the most recent of which had resulted in the near dismantling of SFW itself, the idea to form a private-sector organization and and get it in front of an initiative to administer Seoul Fashion Week privately, and ostensibly for the sake of Korea’s fashion designers, as opposed to the more nebulous and problematic goal of “cultural export promotion,” began to gain traction, and came to coalesce around Korea’s most prominent and venerated living fashion designer, Lie Sang Bong. With Lee at the helm, the Council of Fashion Designers of Korea formed in early 2013 with the expressed goal of furthering the interests of Korean fashion designers and eventually would come to play a large role in the actual administration of Korea’s representative industry event, Seoul Fashion Week, this past season. The CFDK organized shows for  the designers within its membership circle, using combined private-sector and corporate sponsors for the shows themselves, with approximately $6,000, 4,000 and 3,000 participation fees being asked of the designers, dependent on numbers of years active as a fashion designer, namely 20+, 10-20, and <10 years in the industry, respectively. new and inexperienced designers are completely exempt from having to pay any fees, just as in the case of Seoul city-funded shows. in this way, the CFDK is indeed maintaining its  very self-conscious purpose , as described by founder and designer Lie Sang Bong, of turning this back into a “fashion even for fashion designers.”He added that this was the first time that there was a single, representative association of and for all Korean fashion designers, with elder members in their eighties, all the way down to brand new designers in their early twenties. And in a status/connections/aged-centered culture like Korea’s that’s no small change to make, and is what Lie sees as a “extremely positive” step forward in the overall development of the Korean fashion industry.

A look from the Lie Sang Bong show, from Tomimito.com

Yeon-ju Park, director and spokesperson for the CFDK, characterized this new pricing and participation structure as having been a quite a fair and smart way of redistributing the  bulk of the burden of staging fashion shows back more in the direction of the designers, in a way that would be commensurate with the more experienced designers’ greater ability to shoulder greater financial burden. In short, the privatized participation and pricing structure was not all to different from the $2000 participation fee required by the Seoul city for participation in the event, with all the remaining costs above $2000 being taken by Seoul city, which, in the end, is taxpayer money and creates a somewhat different expectation amongst both the designers and general public about the role and nature of soul fashion week in general, which is arguably one of the reasons that there are always tickets for Seoul Fashion Week shows on sale, and members of the public have the chance to enter and watch any fashion show offered during the week, which is arguably a positive benefit of taxpayer money being used to fund cultural events, in that it makes this top industry event much more democratic than is generally the case in other fashion weeks across the world. Indeed,  Seoul Fashion Week is probably the only top fashion industry event in the world in which one can see school uniform-clad attendees standing shoulder to shoulder with other members of the general public, who themselves are no more than a few rows removed from the cultural elites and top invited glitterati sitting in the front press and VIP seats.

Designer Yang Hee Deuk’s looks shine at the Blue Square venue’s runway.

This season around, the event was markedly devoid of any easily discernible animosity or organizational ill will. Indeed, although some members of the both the overseas and domestic Korean press found the separate venues inconvenient in that it made it sometimes impossible to attend all shows offered at the most recent Seoul fashion week, despite the schedule being much less packed than in previous seasons, the event itself went off without any sign of friction or division between the two organizations, and worked quite well as a single overall event. Indeed, Hyowon Lee, writer for BLOUINArtInfo, noted that she “preferred Blue Square” because they were “better organized” in terms of press room placement and access, and also lamented the fact that even with the provided shuttle bus between the two locations, it was “overwehelming” in that it was nearly impossible to see all or even a significant number of the shows on the official schedule. Still, the difference between the management styles of the two organizations running the two separate venues was quite apparent to many  members of the domestic and international press interviewed for this story. Karen Lee, founder of online fashion and lifestyle magazine Tomimito.com, was  decidedly diplomatic when mentioning having had some “issues”with the IFC venue and organizers, and pointed out greatly enjoying the Blue Square venue precisely because of the fact that the non-IFC Mall venue was run by a private organization and PR company, as opposed to the usual suspects from the Seoul city SFW crew.

The top-down and self-important style of the remnants of the city government people and their affiliated PR company made registration and covering of the shows at the IFC Mall much more difficult and irritating than necessary. However, the part of Seoul fashion week that took place at blue Square was unequivocally a pleasure to cover, from the press room to the runway. The CFDK, despite being a brand-new organization and perhaps prone to making the same mistakes as Seoul city government has made from season to season over the years, seemed to have learned from the many mistakes and complaints of previous Seoul fashion weeks and seems to make every effort not to make them themselves. And, subjectively speaking, the shows at blue Square just seemed to be better overall. This is probably no doubt due to the fact that covering the shows was a breeze, and the staff running the event in that venue made a point to bend over backwards to accommodate any and all needs and requests, as opposed to the standard behavior of the Seoul city people, which seems to center around putting up as many barriers to making pictures and producing good content about the events as possible, with a lot of self-important posturing added for good measure.

In short, Seoul Fashion Week seems to be going in the right direction, which is that of increasing privatization and hopefully a wresting away of control from the city government and the standard top-down Korean style of management, especially of its so-called “cultural industries.” Still, the Seoul Fashion Week brand is still owned and controlled by the city government, in the industry has grown quite accustomed to the  generous flow of easy money  and ample support  for cultural events promoting brand Korea, a goal for which the government  has always been willing to reach deep into his pockets. The question becomes one of  how much the private sector is willing to take on a much greater financial burden in order to have a greater amount of control and independence.  assuming that privatization is indeed the way forward, the next question  becomes that of whether the city government and other even higher ups will be willing to relinquish control to the private sector. This is actually the quintessential question when it comes to nearly every aspect of Korean society or the last 30 years, since nearly every part of civil society today was once under direct government  control.  When considering these questions, as well as any others on the  on the Korean Peninsula, one must remember that until the early 1990s, South Korea had essentially lived under military dictators ( the 1st of which, Park Chung Hee, had banned fashion shows outright after his takeover in 1961 as part of  austerity measures designed to weed out as negative elements of  bourgeois society and  what he viewed as the activities of subversive intellectuals. as in all other sectors of life, South Koreans are still wrestling with the challenge of disentangling civil society from government control—what has made this process all the more  interest gained in the case of fashion as a “cultural industry” is the fact that these fields have welcomed government money and support with open arms in the name of nationalism—that is, all bets and concerns are off when it comes to the laudable goal of promoting Korean culture abroad. Now, the Korean fashion industry, which has long been historically and financially inured to this  potentially problematic mingling of public and private-sector interests, has reached a crossroads of sorts.

When asked whether the city government suits might find it difficult to relinquish increasing amounts of control to private sector, (namely CFDK), Director Park did indicate thiscould possibly become an issue in the future, depending on how much and how quickly the city government will be willing to relinquish direct control over Korea’s flagship fashion event, which will go very much against the grain of Korean management and government habits in general, as well as go against the pattern of how the government sector in Korea tends to try and take a very central role in what has become a common catchphrase here: the “culture industry.”

Especially in a country and culture used to a government-centered and controlled export model for everything from consumer goods to what is increasingly being seen as an exportable commodity —  culture. Ever since Korean films began garnering attention in overseas film festivals, the nationalist streak in the society has created a tendency for government officials to quarterback, if not completely control, policies and practices related to what has been called “cultural exports.” In fact, it was when government suits and organizations began to get involved in the “cultural export” action that both the idea and catch phrase “Korean wave” became widely used and solidified in the public mind. Unfortunately, the top-down, micromanaging style of Korean central administration and government organizational style is ill-suited to actually produce success in creating cultural items or trends that actually catch on outside of Korea. A recent, glaring example of this can be seen in the breakout success of Psy, of “Gangnam Style” fame. It’s interesting that this rapper and performer in particular quickly became the prodigal son of the successful explosion of the so-called “Korean wave.” In fact, Psy has always been on the fringes of the Korean mainstream, and definitely never defined the standard, safe commercial fare that pleases the palate of most Korean music consumers. In fact, Psy is a performer who has often flirted with controversy and made risky artistic choices against base commercial interests as a musician. Even his recent explosive success overseas cannot be explained according to the logic or practices of the  domestic Korean music industry, nor is his style form representative of what has come to be solidified and defined as “K-pop.” In short, his success is not because of the machinations or processes that constitute what we now call the Korean production machine that is “K–pop,” but despite it. SFW is not too different in this regard, since the ongoing relative success of this event over the last several years has not been due to the enlightened choices or good management of the city government that has been in charge over the better part of the last decade, with progress having happened despite their bumbling and incompetence. It has been the raw talent of Korean top designers, combined with the dynamic flowering of Korean street fashion culture on the ground, along with the accidental and unexpected overall rise in prominence of Korean popular culture, that have all combined to bring more attention in general to what is happening on Korean fashion runways and the streets of Seoul.

Designer Park Seung-gun’s pushBUTTON brand remained a must-see show this season as well.

In fact, my ability to produce fashion content about Seoul Fashion Week has been despite the best efforts of the Seoul city government people to keep me out of the event. I’ve used my extensive personal collections in order to find my way into getting a press pass for the last 3 seasons, since I have been constantly turned down by the city government people for access, despite having been one of the 1st and only foreign journalist covering SFW back when there was very little interest overseas in the event, since around 2007. The organizers over the last few years, when the event was controlled by the SBA, or in other words, the city of Seoul, were quite happy when I filed stories on SFW for CNN Travel and other overseas venues, such as the Japan Times and other smaller outlets. However, the event’s short institutional memory has inevitably led them to forget all the hard work this writer has done to promote Korean fashion overseas and in the English language Internet, much like a confused goldfish continuously bumping its head against the glass of the fish tank. Add to this a good heaping helping of actual incompetence, in that they have now for the past 2 consecutive seasons denied press access to me as a representative of the Huffington Post, mostly because of the impression I have that they have no idea what the Huffington Post actually is, and you have a situation in which I have to call in favors and cover the event under the auspices of a local industry fashion newspaper at which I have been a freelancer at times in the past. That is actually the way I got into the shows with a press pass this most recent season, and came up against the attempts of one particular member of the Seoul city people group to nurse what I can only understand as some kind of grudge against me for getting past her best attempts to keep me out of the event, despite the fact that I was house photographer for 3 separate designers SFW this season However, this was very much not the case when dealing with the blue Square venue that was controlled by the CDFK, the representatives of which actually sought me out between shows to make sure I was finding good seating and that might team members had adequate resources in the press room.

If both the institutional competence and overall helpfulness (along with what seems to be a genuine desire to see SFW succeed as a fashion event for the fashion industry) of the CFDK organization is any sign, and control of SFW moves in the direction in the future, the future of Seoul fashion week looks very bright. And given the recent success of the event this most recent season, combined with the overall positive impression that the fashion industry and fashion journalists seem to have developed in response to the outstanding job that CFDK did in this, their 1st run as an organization and also the 1st experiment with the privatization of SFW, it seems inevitable for the Council of fashion designers of Korea to assume a much larger role in the management of Seoul fashion week, something that can only bode well for the Korean fashion industry in general. Indeed, a private sector with a vested interest in its own industries success is destined to do a much better job than a bunch of stuffed-suit civil servants whose main goal is to simply do the numbers and do the bare minimum required to please the boss.

Designer Kye Han-hui’s KYE brand was a highlight of the IFC Mall’s venue.

 In sum,  there are bright days ahead for the Korean fashion industry, especially in terms of how much it’s flagship event seems to be moving in a much more positive direction. Just like in its other “cultural industries,” the timing is almost right for Korean fashion to make its grand appearance on the world stage, especially if the  stars of fate and circumstance line up for any of the many talented Korean designers out there at present, who will surely manage to break out  into the spotlight with a breakthrough individual masterwork that can turn the world’s attention into the direction of the Korean Peninsula in general. Perhaps it will be a famous American star who falls in love with a particular Korean fashion designer, or perhaps Anna Wintour might do the same and inexplicably dedicate an entire issue of Vogue USA to the subject of the “newest, hottest designers in Asia” or something nearly as fantastic. Or maybe will.I.am will produce a K-pop-inspired music video with Nikki Minaj  an whole coterie of backup dancers clad in the hottest new Korean designer fashions. Who knows what historical accident and artistic convergence might result in the new next thing?  Indeed, I still think there’s a strong sense of constant surprise and elation on the part of Koreans watching one of their quirkiest and off-mainstream musicians producing the video that has become the talk of the world and even cause for that artist to be invited to perform in the White House, especially given the common knowledge here of that musician’s  superficial musical stance of very directed, affected anti-Americanism in the past. Indeed, who would have predicted just last year around this time that Psy would become the next major superstar, nay, the biggest musical superstar in the world, even if that status is fleeting.  Given the bizarreness of the fact that  a goofy Korean rapper who is the Korean cultural equivalent of Weird Al Yankovic has become the King of YouTube as well as dance using in the world, why would any bet that Korean fashion will soon have its day and its due necessarily be a long shot?

Korean Fashion Editorial: “The Ties That Bind”

넥 타이는 남자를 연상시킨다. 아니, 어쩌면 남성성 그 자체를 떠올릴 수도 있을 것이다.

When one thinks of a necktie, one thinks of a man, or even of malehood itself.

샐러리맨을 생각하면, 피곤에 찌든 채 양복에 넥타이, 서류 가방을 들고 있거나 술집에 모여앉아 쨍 하고 술잔을 부딪히는 모습이 보일지도 모르겠다.

A salaryman might come to mind, weary and clad in suit and tie, perhaps holding a briefcase or clinking glasses together in a bar.

“Do Only White People Wear Underwear in Korea?”

[Originally published at OhmyNews!]

One thing I learned quickly when I first came to Korea is that only white people wear underwear here. Well, Koreans tell me, it’s because underwear looks better on Western models, for the standard reasons: whites supposedly have the desired longer legs, bigger chests, better features. But this got me to thinking — what kind of psychological sign is it that you literally can’t imagine seeing one’s own people in underwear? Do white models inherently simply look “better?”

I think Korean readers know the answer to this rhetorical question. I won’t get into a long conversation about beauty standards, influence from the West, etc. I think we know where the beauty standards come from. What I’d rather talk about here is the suggestion that maybe Korean aesthetics have a charm of their own.

Of course, there is the reality that there are thousands of plastic surgery clinics across Seoul, that Korea is actually a center of “medical tourism” for facial procedures, that if you watch Korean TV, eyes have gotten much bigger than when I first started coming to Korea in the early 1990’s. People are also concerned about both the length and width of their legs, the length of their torsos, size of their breasts, and even how big their heads are. Now, I have become used to seeing men wearing makeup on the streets of Seoul. For better or worse, Koreans are very concerned about appearance. Photoshop has become an accepted way of life, even on official ID pictures.

I won’t get into a long conversation about how Koreans should have Korean standards, go away from Western ones, etc. Rather, I’d merely suggest trying to forget about set standards at all. For example, bigger eyes are not always better, not just because smaller ones are “Korean” or eastern, but because they naturally, aesthetically match other features on a person’s face. You’ve seen examples of this — one woman might have no fold in her eyelid at all, and her eyes are small. Even with plastic surgery, her new eyes look forced, unnatural, fake. On another person, that same eye job might look natural, and sure, large eyes do fall within the range of nature, even for Koreans.

I don’t think plastic surgery is all bad, or good. I’m not trying to preach that standard sermon. What I’m trying to say is that people have gotten so used to taking the quick and easy path of artificial enhancements and just thinking in terms of a single standard for something that it leaves little room for actual, normal people.

You know, some petite women who use that in their style simply look great. Not everyone with a small head looks better, but look awkward and disproportional. Just because you are tall doesn’t mean you look like a model. I still see, despite the plastic surgery, many beautiful eyes that don’t have folds in the eyelid. And you know what, as a Westerner who is used to a lot of sizes, not all breasts are better because they are bigger.

And yes, I think a lot of Korean woman would look just fine in an underwear ad, like the one a model once told me she wanted to do, since she liked the style she had seen in magazines. She didn’t have a large cup size, her torso is long, like many Korean women, and no, there wasn’t any Photoshop used to change her shape. Beauty is not just about changing and alteration, but about presentation and context. In this particular picture, the side lighting, placement of the hair, camera angle, her expression, and the choice to crop below the underwear line made her look great. And yes, she is naturally an attractive young lady, but trust me when I say that many such women don’t look good in pictures. And it’s not about plastic surgery, but about self-confidence and presentation.

What would make Korea a better place to live, with more aesthetic room for everyone? A big, sexy woman, with big legs that are curvy and she’s not afraid to show off. Beyonce does, for example, and I’ve seen these girls on the street. But why don’t I see them on TV? How about short, petite girls who use that to look a way that tall girls can’t — prim and cute? How about a makeup style that isn’t afraid to show off eastern features, instead of awkwardly trying to “hide” them, which makes things look worse, anyway? I seriously see nice pairs of legs on the street that aren’t straight, aren’t long.

Maybe it’s because I come from a culture that actually appreciates variety. We have different standards, which influence one another. This is not to say that Americans don’t get plastic surgery, but it’s usually more of a personal aesthetic choice. Black women have learned to appreciate themselves after the 1960’s in the “black is beautiful” movement. We didn’t have to put down the dominant white standard by saying “white is ugly,” but simply remind ourselves of what we had forgotten about the beauty of ourselves. And now, you have some non-black women adding fat to their buttocks because they want more bounce on the dance floor. Yes, most black women still straighten their hair, but that can be seen as a small thing. No longer is it acceptable to hate oneself for the color of one’s skin, which even many black people did. Now, even a woman as light as Halle Berry or as dark as Grace Jones can be considered beautiful. But before others do, they must consider THEMSELVES beautiful, first.

And that’s the trick — appreciate what you have and try to value those things on their own merits. Create an aesthetic system where more than only one thing can be “pretty.” There’s a lot more beauty to discover in Korea, if only people would be open to it. Non-Korean men find Korean women very attractive, and in more ways than many Koreans do. Sometimes, Koreans remark when they see a Korean woman who doesn’t fit the Korean norms of beauty with a western man, and make the comment that we don’t know what a true Korean beauty is. But are you so sure we’re the one who is missing something?

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The Korean ‘Room Salon’ and Unique Cultural Spaces

[Originally published at OhmyNews!]

People are all the same, in terms of human motivations, desires, and basic instincts. But our cultures — as defined simply by different world views, customs, and even the little habits of the everyday — differ quite a bit. Despite our common traits, our cultures and societies are the results of different specific histories, which are the results of geography, human will, and blind circumstance. No matter the causes, we live in the here and now, and our ways of life differ from society to society.

Our natural geographies differ, and so do our built (man-made) spaces. And as unique as Korea’s natural geography are the spaces that are a sign of the culture here, from comic book rooms to love motels to the noraebangs, which is celebrating only its 20th anniversary since being introduced to Korea. Of course, the idea of “karaoke” comes from Japan, but not the idea of singing itself, which Koreans surely love to do. Combined with the fact that Korea, as a fast-developing country in 1991, had developed a population that could actually afford to go to the “noraebang” at the time, and you have a uniquely Korean social space. Remember, Japanese tended to use the karaoke machines in the larger space of a bar or club; Koreans are far more exclusive and less public, so they preferred to be in rooms with only people whom they directly knew. The Korean “noraebang” is no more Japanese, by this point, than a bulgogi burrito made by a Mexican guy selling them out of his truck to students at UCLA, or Japanese “donkatsu” is an American pork chop. They all have become adapted to their cultures, and thereby unique to them.

As a photographer wanting to do a photo shoot for a Korean American necktie designer, with the idea of using uniquely Korean spaces as the backdrop, the first thing that occurred to me was also a place that had always fascinated me — the “room salon.” As an American coming to Korea in 1994, I’d never been exposed to a cultural space in which women were so overtly objectified in the service of men, from merely singing, dancing, and drinking, all the way to sex itself. America is a puritanical culture, where most states ban alcohol after 2am and was once illegal (the Prohibition period), and prostitution is not just nominally illegal, so it is either a refuge of the desperate (the streetwalker you might see in American movies) or the option of the elite (highly-paid, private “escorts”). Typical of American culture is the contradiction that exists between the liberal and conservative streaks in our culture — this is why American has strip clubs in most states, but you are really not allowed to even touch the girl. Doing so will land you on the street. America is the land of “look, but don’t touch.” Korea is far more practical about the way it hides desire — “touch, just don’t tell.” It’s a very Confucian solution to the problem. The puritanical American feels the temptation, but feels very confused about what to do with that desire.

So, the space of the room salon was always one of the most fascinating to me, since it was the most alien. In America, even if one engages in formal prostitution, it is done alone, secretly, behind closed doors. What fascinated me about the room salon — and all the similar spaces of the “business club” or what I came to learn about later as the “bikini bar” or “sexy bar” and so forth — is that they are very social spaces, where groups of men go to engage their desire. Men go there to socialize, conduct business, and bond with one another. Especially from the days of Pak Chung Hee’s “kisaeng diplomacy,” to the more expensive business clubs in City Hall that foreign businessmen are often treated to as the cherry on the cake after a major international deal, to even the cheap and sordid bars that still line the streets of working-class neighborhoods, and now even to the expensive “room cafes” in Kangnam or bars in my own neighborhood in Mapo, with well-dressed female-only bartenders, which actually don’t sell sex — there is still a lively culture in which men socialize  with one another, with women providing either sexy (or overtly sexual) social lubricant.

It is in this space that I think of neckties. When I think of neckties, I think of men in suits, and in the Korean context, I think of the ajussi, especially a suited salaryman. When I think of how Korean salarymen socialize, I think of smoking cigarettes, flowing alcohol, and women. When I see images of the room salon, I see the pictures and stories of every “sports newspaper” that provides me with the imagery of these spaces, along with my direct experience. Even the advertising in this very newspaper is quite stark and often overtly sexual — in my own culture, one would have difficulty finding bikini-clad women in banner ads for penis enlargement surgery, blackhead removal creams, and the like in say, The New York Times, Newsweek, or even OhmyNews’ equivalent, The Huffington Post.

I’m not making a value judgement here; I’m merely talking about my motivations for making a photo shoot utilizing this uniquely Korean cultural and physical backdrop. Indeed, most non-Koreans would find this space also fascinating. Despite Koreans’ tendency to think only in terms of national image or shame (“나라망신”), the actual foreigners most Koreans are worried about don’t really care about “negative” or “positive” — they’re looking for what’s interesting, for cultural item that are new to them, that deepen interest in the culture in general. Koreans, when thinking about how some supposedly “negative” aspects of Korean culture bring embarrassment, are stuck in an irrelevant frame of thinking based on “shame,” which is rooted in Confucian ideas of following social rules and sticking to one’s social roles. Westerners, for example, simply aren’t thinking in these terms when looking in from the outside.

When looking at the “room salon,” the idea both fascinates many of us, is fodder for conversation, and is always the stuff that makes certain people want to go deeper and learn more about a culture. What’s funny is that when Korean organizations and the government wants to promote “Korean culture” overseas, it generally picks the things that Koreans think makes the culture look good, as opposed to what’s interesting or is actually good on the ground. The government now, wants to promote Chosun-era cuisine and bibimpap artificially, even as Americans are consuming Korean BBQ, fried chicken, and even bulgogi burritos sold on Mexican lunch trucks. Americans aren’t going to go for what the government wants it to. Suntubu, for example, has taken off because many Korean American restauranteurs have marketed it as a vegetarian health dish. The first Korean movie to sweep Cannes was Old Boy, not a film like Chunghyangjeon, which is what the government would like; similarly, many foreign audiences found The King and the Clown a fascinating story; western audiences collectively yawned at Taegukki.

And in a similar way, as an editorial shoot for a Korean fashion magazine, promoting Korean cultural content to the growing number of people around the world who think Korean fashion is worth looking at, the backdrop of the room salon, as a sexual play space for men, is a fascinating and truly edgy backdrop to do it in. And since fashion’s role in any society is to push the boundaries and even provoke controversy, as a fashion photographer trying to promote interest in Korean culture, this is exactly how I need to do it. The typical Korean tendency in this situation, perhaps using the Kyeongbok Palace as a backdrop, with women in “fusion” (read: tired and cliched) hanboks, would only provoke drowsiness and disinterest. Perhaps this is why not only the Korean fashion industry, but most Korean “culture industries” in general, utterly fail to winn the interest of foreign audiences.

I, for one, will not make this mistake. In the arts, playing it safe means you will surely go unnoticed. If one tried to be provocative, going unnoticed is the worst-case scenario. If one does it right, people will be talking about you. As the old American saying goes, “If no one is talking about you, you must not be doing anything worth noticing.” And no one talks about those who play it safe.

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Designer Kwak Hyunjoo’s Cutting Edge

Korean fashion designer Kwak Hyunjoo.
Hair and makeup by Jeongmin Lee / Taken in cooperation with TINNews

Fashion is an industry in which it is important to be “edgy.” That term has been around, in American English, for a long time. It means something that pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable, or is on the leading edge of a field, something that literally sits on the edge of a cliff that overlooks that which is safe and socially unacceptable. In the original sense of the word, “edgy” means something so new and unusual that it is both interesting, yet also a bit uncomfortable. And in most places, fashion is meant to challenge people’s standards and the limits of what is comfortable.

But this is Korea. Here, the word “edgy” has entered the lexicon, but only in the limited sense of something that is “new and fashionable.” The original sense of boundary-pushing is gone. And this is not surprising, since this is a neo-Confucian culture that is inherently uncomfortable with things that are new or which challenge the status quo. And in the Korean fashion industry, which is heavily supported by the government and controlled by civil servants, the American sense of “edgy” is not considered a good thing. It’s a strange relationship, actually, as the Korean government pushes movies, TV dramas, music, and now fashion overseas, because historically speaking, the Korean government and artists have not had a great relationship.

Now, as Korean fashion designers are starting to be more noticed overseas, the standards for judgment are becoming more international. In short, to compete as an artist in the global market, one has to be edgy, in the western sense of the word. In New York, London, Milan, and Tokyo, no one wants safe and conservative. They want “edge” as sharp as a knife.

This is a portrait of Kwak Hyun Joo, one of several young Korean designers receiving increasing attention overseas, and not amongst just the general public, but from western fashion journalists and buyers as well. Designer Kwak’s fashions are creative and truly edgy, and when she posed for this portrait, I wanted it to reflect that, as well as her specific personality.

As a photographer, I always try to talk with my subjects and get to know some aspects of their character, to find something that can help me make a picture. In designer Kwak’s case, I didn’t know her well, but it was easy to communicate with her, since she is quite friendly and cheerful, with a really great sense of humor. When I asked her if there were any concepts she would like to express in a photograph, she responded that she like the idea of the “femme fatale,” in the sense of Snow White’s poisoned apple, or a “dangerous woman”.

I immediately thought that the easiest way to express a sense of danger was with a knife, which also gives a sense of creation. You can peel an apple with a knife, and you can cook with a knife, but the knife is also a symbol of danger. In Japanese kitchens, for example, it’s considered bad luck to store knives out in the open. Indeed, knives are used for mostly cooking, but they can easily become a lethal instrument of death.

A woman holding a knife, along with an apple, suggests a sense of creative power, but also the power to threaten, to hurt, to destroy. Along with the bright orange dress, stiletto “killer” heels, and her luxurious hair, and the heavy makeup we were using, I felt the look was perfect for her, a young designer with “edge” as sharp as the edge of a knife. As a designer, she possesses the power to create, but not in the safe, acceptable ways that everyone might like.

And that is the very thing I wanted to express in that picture, while also making an image that needs to be interesting in itself. It is important to remember that on the international stage, even Korea’s most famous stars and celebrities would not be recognized on the street, so the same picture that might satisfy the Korean market is just a picture of a random person to the average international viewer.

And frankly, many Koreans do not know most of their own famous designers, besides a few of the very most popular, such as internationally-based Lie Sang Bong, television regular Ha Sang Beg, or the late, great André Kim. In order to attract the attention of the many people who might not know who Kwak Hyun Joo is, the picture needs to be truly edgy and original itself. It needs the viewer to ask the question, “Who IS that?” and perhaps actually make them more curious about wanting to learn more about them.

In my view, even a celebrity picture must be truly unique. My question is always, “Would this picture be interesting, either thematically or visually, if this person wasn’t famous at all?” This is what makes the world’s greatest living portrait photographer — Annie Liebovitz — so great. It’s not about just the celebrity, but about taking a strong, unique picture that is both an expression of the photographer’s style and the subject’s personality.

In the end, I was very grateful for Kwak Hyun Joo being so open-minded about this portrait. The power of this picture comes not just from me, but also from designer Kwak’s bravery in allowing this picture to be taken and published, which again defines her as truly “edgy” in the original sense of the word.

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Kim Ggobbi Will Leave You Breathless!

Hair and makeup by Lee Jayeon / Korean hanbok provided by 한복다홍치마

The city of Las Palmas in the Canary Islands lies 150 km off the northwest coast of Africa, and is said to have “the best climate in the world.” The city of Vladivostok lies on the far eastern coast of Russia, and is the starting point for the Trans-Siberian Railway. Both cities hold annual film festivals. And in 2009, both festivals presented their best actress award to a young woman from Bucheon named Kim Kkobbi, for her performance in the film Breathless.

“Breathless seemed to hit viewers’ emotions in a very fundamental way,” Kim says. “I think that’s why it was so well received at international film festivals and in Korea.” The surprising success of this low-budget independent feature by Yang Ik-june proved to be a breakthrough for Kim, who had studied acting since elementary school and made her film debut as the daughter in Jealousy Is My Middle Name (2002).

In person, Kim makes a remarkably different impression from the tough-talking, combative high school girl she played in Breathless. Quick to smile, and with an unaffected, friendly manner, she has a face that seems at times to be expressing two emotions at once. “Acting suits my personality,” she says. “It can be a difficult and unstable profession, but I like the freedom of it. I like giving all my energy to a role for two or three months, and then having time to relax and travel.”

The sort of challenging, low-budget films that Kim often appears in may not sell a lot of tickets in Korea, but they do allow filmmakers to travel the international festival circuit. On such trips many Korean actors and directors tend to spend time in close-knit groups with other Koreans. But Kim, who says she “loves parties,” has made use of her English skills to spend time getting to know many directors, actors, and producers from around the world.

This has sometimes opened up unexpected opportunities. “A couple years ago I happened to meet a Japanese producer, Kiki Sugino, at the Pusan International Film Festival. We became friends and then later I got a phone call from him, asking if I wanted to shoot a film.” The end result was Magic and Loss, shot in Hong Kong by a Malaysian director with an international cast. It screened at the Pusan festival in 2010. “It is a difficult film,” she said. “The audience response ran to both extremes.”

Speaking a few days before flying to the Berlin Film Festival to present her latest work, Ashamed, Kim said, “I’m interested in taking on a wider variety of roles in the coming years. I’ve played a lot of high school girls up to now, and I want to move beyond that image.” For now, her next project involves a trip to Hong Kong to shoot a video installation by the artist Adrian Wong, another friend met through the festival circuit.

When Korean Wave stars become well-known in foreign countries, they stand at the head of a formidable distribution and marketing campaign that may involve large numbers of people and cost billions of won. Kim Kkobbi is not famous abroad, but in a more modest, and perhaps a more meaningful way, she too is a Korean actor who has gone out to the world. The difference is that she has done so on her own power.

Selected Filmography

창피해 / Ashamed (2010)
Magic and Loss (Japan-HK-Malaysia-Korea-France, 2010)
귀 / Be with Me (2010)
죽으로 갑니다 / Be My Guest (2009)
똥파리 / Breathless (2008)
삼거리 극장 / Midnight Ballad for Ghost Theater (2006)
화기애애 / Friendly and Harmonious (2005)
질투는 나의 힘 / Jealousy Is My Middle Name (2002)

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“Itaewon Freedom”

It’s good to finally see some positive images of Itaewon, a place where those familiar with it know is one of the most interesting, fascinating, and simply fun districts in Seoul. Of course, for many Koreans, Itaewon has always been a place of fear, although not really for any good reason.

Yes, there were a couple infamous murders there, but no more frequently than any other place in Seoul, and contrary to sensationalist media reports, the crime rate amongst both American GI’s and the general foreign population is still below that of the Korean population, in every category. In short, neither GI’s nor English teachers actually deserve their negative reputations, nor does Itaewon, the neighborhood with which both groups are associated. Like both foreigners and the neighborhood of Itaewon, there are so many positive aspects that outweigh a few bad apples, but the Korean media never focuses on that. The reputation both have earned comes from a very distorted point-of-view.

What both foreigners and Itaewon actually represent is a cultural fear, of outsiders, of rapid change, of the unknown. And for that, Itaewon, like foreigners themselves, is like a cultural lightning rod for anything and everything viewed as bad in the popular Korean imagination.

But the reality is that Itaewon has always been a welcoming home to those who live on the edges of Korean society, from foreigners to prostitutes, gays and other social outsiders, for anyone who wanted to be outside of the oppressive gaze of Korean society. In that way, Itaewon has actually been a social safe haven for all who wanted escape the prying and judgmental eyes of their peers. It’s like a cultural “Casablanca.”

There has always been a beautiful freedom about Itaewon, from the times when the rest of the city closed after midnight and went underground, but night clubs, restaurants, and noraebangs  in Itaewon remained open without apology, to even now, when people are free to dance, meet people of different cultures, and have their own personal adventures outside of the stricter, ritualized playstyles of the general Korean culture.

Those who know, know that Itaewon is one of the most unique and wonderful cultural mixing zones in Korea, on a level rarely found in other countries. It’s not just American, or Korean, or Russian, or Japanese, or Nigerian, or Canadian, or Indian, or anything else. It is a free mix, unique in the world. Those who know, like JYP, and many others, all played here in the secret hours of the night, when we sang to our hearts’ content, and yes, also danced in the streets.

Itaewon is not dangerous, nor is it a threat. People here are largely friendly, smile at one another easily, and are open to difference. Those who fear this place are usually those who don’t know it, and are those who fear the Other, as well as freedom itself. For everyone else, in a society built on stress, competition, and social policing, Itaewon has always meant freedom, in more ways than anyone can express in words.

The two young ladies in the pics represent just that kind of freedom, as I bumped into them on a warm summer night as they were enjoying an animated conversation, which was full of laughter and humor. The atmosphere of the picture is simply not what one might find in Shinchon or many standard Korean play places, as mentioned in the song from which I made the title of this picture. To me, and many other people who love Itaewon, the mood of this picture and of the entire neighborhood is one of freedom, one filled with life, levity, and laughter.

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