Why PSY?

This is kind of old news; the Gangnam Style craze was months ago. But Shift East has just become the latest of a handful of blogs or websites to comment on the question of why Gangnam Style never caught on in Japan.

I tried to leave a comment on the page, but, like always, my comment was mistakenly auto-rejected as spam, and since Shift East has no contact form or email address, I’m instead posting my thoughts here.

In the full post, which is loaded with nice pictures, and which I encourage you to take a look at, Shift East writer Thomas Glucksmann-Smith provides a great explanation of the concept of “soft power,” how PSY and Gangnam Style fit into it, and why the two became so popular in the West (or at least in the US) so quickly and so powerfully.

He then goes on to say

PSY’s limited impact in Japan reflects the lack of Korean soft power spread through these music videos. For one thing most Japanese regarded the videos as stupid rather than funny and so were less inclined to share it with their friends, the fact that PSY was a relative no-body before the video went viral meant Japanese would not be interested and finally there are enough slap-stick, satirical comedians in Japan everyday on TV for Japanese people to care than much about PSY.

So the fact that PSY was Korean, probably had nothing to do with the limited reception in Japan.

What is meant by this last sentence? Is Glucksmann-Smith referring to the potential belief that PSY’s lack of popularity in Japan has something to do with regional tensions, with political or ethnic anti-Korean attitudes? If that’s what he means, I agree completely. I’m no expert in the contemporary regional tensions and ethnic sentiments, but I definitely get the impression that Korean pop culture remains very popular in Japan, and that political tensions, therefore, have nothing to do with it.

By contrast, I think it is precisely because K-Pop is already so popular, and so mainstream, in Japan, that PSY and Gangnam Style did not see the kind of overnight, viral popularity that it did here in the US. PSY’s appeal in the US, I think, stems chiefly from how different he and his music video are from what we are used to. They’re perceived as crazy, wacky, exotic, weird, silly… and yet, for the Japanese, this sort of thing is totally mainstream. Everything in this video that we take to be hilariously, wonderfully, wacky and strange, they see as perfectly typical of the music & music videos they’re used to (i.e. K-pop and J-pop music videos).

The real question, for me, is why did only PSY get so virally popular in the West, in a mainstream way, when everyone from SMAP and AKB48 to Girls’ Generation and Big Bang are making music and videos with very similar aesthetics, similar wackiness and exoticness (to the Western eye)?

My best guess is that, in part at least, it may have something to do with gender. Groups like Big Bang, and indeed a lot of “boy bands” in Japan and Korea, can be quite androgynous in their aesthetic, focusing on pretty boys and even crossdressing, a particular aesthetic of soft, gentle male beauty and an association with fashion that we might here in the US call “metrosexual.” Mainstream US society can still be quite conservative when it comes to gender performance, and this is a sort of masculinity that, I’d wager, not only doesn’t appeal, but is outright rejected by the American mainstream drive to constantly prove one’s macho manliness. The stigma of being a pussy, a nancy-boy, a sissy, or “gay” remains too strong in the US for the door to be open for these alternative masculinities.* In short, PSY fits our American definitions of masculinity better than, for example, G-Dragon (right), and is therefore more acceptable, more palatable, to mainstream America.**

This gendered interpretation, I think, not only explains why PSY was able to catch on in America where so many other Korean and Japanese acts did not (not in nearly as big, widespread, viral, mainstream a way), but I think it’s also a big part of why PSY was not so popular in Japan, where K-pop is so widely popular. As a post on Kotaku.com explains, quoting precisely the same source as a RocketNews24 post,

the reason K-Pop became so popular in Japan in the first place is because Korean artists are known for being beautiful, so PSY looked completely out of place on screen. Even if he debuted in Japan, I don’t think he would have sold very much.”

The stereotype in Japan is that Korean stars are extremely attractive. The men are handsome and kind. There was even a stereotype, based on Korean soap operas, that Korean men were nicer than Japanese men.

What do you think? Why has PSY achieved such viral popularity in the US, while so many other Korean and Japanese pop stars have not?

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*Though, to be clear, I don’t think that Korean or Japanese society are necessarily more open/liberal with these things. I believe, and please correct me if I’m wrong, that in South Korea and Japan today, being gay is still generally not very widely accepted; there is still a strong expectation that these performers, like all men in society, will adhere to Korean/Japanese notions of masculine gender roles in their personal relationships, and otherwise in their everyday lives off-camera. Much like how Takarazuka stars retire to become stereotypical Japanese housewives rather than living the rest of their lives as gender-bending societal rebels, here too, as in many realms, there is an expectation that performance is just performance, and that real-life should adhere to societal norms. Here in the US, we do not have as much of a separation, allowing for us to see performance as just performance – allowing people, in other words, to dress and look and behave however they wish onstage, including crossdressing or genderbending acts, without the public assuming that performer to be a genderbender in everyday life as well, and thus attracting whatever stigmas are associated with it.

**Though, the more I look at different K-pop stars, including G-Dragon, the more I get the sense that even with the pink hair and soft features, Korean singers are still, often, performing a more macho, street, tough masculinity than is typical among Japanese performers. We’ll be discussing gender & K-pop in one of my seminars in a couple weeks, so maybe I’ll be able to come back to this subject with more to say, or with deeper/better insights and understandings.

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Quick Links: The Met, Namdaemun, Hirschhorn, and Social Engagement as Art

Just a few things that have come up this week.

*Korea’s National Treasure Number One, Seoul’s Namdaemun (“South Great Gate”), severely damaged by an arsonist in 2008, has been reopened to the public after a US$24 million restoration project.

*Speaking of heritage issues, the New York Times reports that the Metropolitan Museum has agreed to return a pair of statues to Cambodia after Cambodian officials presented clear evidence that the statues had been taken out of the country illegally in the 1970s.

I find it heartening that the Cambodian Secretary of State is quoted as saying “This shows the high ethical standards and professional practices of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which they are known for.” It is wonderful to see the Metropolitan characterized in such a positive manner, as a potential partner and not as an adversary or obstacle.

*Meanwhile, on the subject of museums, there are apparently plans for a giant bubble to be installed at the Smithsonian’s Hirshhorn sculpture museum, seasonally, serving as a decidedly (post-?)modernist additional gallery space.

The Smithsonian Magazine article I found discussing this (thanks for the heads up, dad!) expresses concerns that the plan may not fly, as DC, the very model of a bureaucratic city, loves its drab grey concrete too much, and similarly creative contemporary-looking sort of projects have failed in the past. I guess only time will tell if it does manage to go through.

*On a separate subject, a recent blog post posted by the Queens Museum of Art invites us to consider social activist artistic practice, and the questions of what makes it “art”? and Why call it art?

Simply protest? Or Art?

There may be a standard term out there in the scholarly or art critic discourse for this precise type of art, but if there is, I do not know it. What this Queens Museum blog post, and I, are referring to is engaging in flat-out social activist activities — whether it be a protest poster, a march or sit-in, a stand where you sell or give away something in order to raise awareness for a cause, organizing communal/public vegetable gardens, or volunteering at, e.g. a soup kitchen or hospital — and then calling it “art” or “artistic practice.”

This is only extremely tentative, but my initial reaction was to, first, say that one key element is simply whether or not it is called “art” by its creators/organizers, and whether it is called “art” by critics or scholars. I think the difference is largely in how it is conceptualized. One person might engage in a given action or activity out of (more or less) purely political motives; she might make all organizational, logistical, and aesthetic decisions about the project based chiefly on how effective they will be towards successfully achieving the political goal. And others might see this activity, and might analyze it, describe it, through a political or social sciences lens. And then someone else might engage in precisely the same activity, but might choose to see the performative and discursive aspects of the act itself as being of chief importance over (or equal with) the success of the political aims. This person might call themselves an artist, and call what they are doing “artistic practice.” And others might examine the act, conceptualize it, describe it, in terms of art, aesthetics, or performance. Somewhere in there, I think, may be the answer. Not solely, simply, a matter of calling it art or not calling it art, but, truly, conceiving of it and conceptualizing its meaning differently, on a very fundamental basis.

Or, to touch upon a slightly different perspective of a closely related interpretation, perhaps what separates it is simply its cleverness and intertextuality. A protest that is powerfully clear in its targets, its aims, and its methods, may be art in the sense of the argument that everything is art, because everything contains aesthetic and performative aspects, and deeper meanings. But, when a social act is not clear in its targets, its aims, or its methods, when its purpose or meaning is not readily apparent, but requires some interpretation, discursive or intertextual references, or the like in order to understand – in short, when it’s clever – does that make it more strongly, more definitively, “art”?

As for the other question — why call it art? What does the person classifying it as such have to gain (or to lose)? — I leave it open.

What do you think? What makes an act of social engagement or protest “art”? What distinguishes it from purer, “non-art,” forms of social or political engagement?

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Portraiture Now!

I posted a while ago about an exhibition of Asian-American art being held at the National Portrait Gallery in DC, and lamented that I wasn’t going to be around during the two months it was going to be showing. Well, it turns out that I misread the dates – “Portraiture Now! Asian American Portraits of Encounter” didn’t run for two months; it runs for a year and two months, closing Oct 14, 2012.

So, when I walked into the National Portrait Gallery / American Art Museum a week ago to see the Art of Video Games exhibition, I was extremely pleasantly surprised that I was going to get to see this great Asian-American art show. Sadly, I once again have no photos to share with you; but, even if I did, as is so often the case with artworks, there are significant elements of the experience of seeing the works in-person that just cannot be captured on digital film. Some of the pieces, such as Roger Shimomura’s Shimomura Crossing the Delaware, are quite large, and so have quite an impact by their size and scale. Others, such as Shizu Saldamando’s works, painted on bare wood, are so much more beautiful and intriguing when their varied textures are seen in person. There is something cooly beautiful about plain, bare wood, and as smooth as it may be, contrast with the sleek shine of oil paints and gold leaf brings out the slightly rough and matte texture of the wood.

Zhang Chun Hong, who I don’t believe I mentioned in my previous post on the exhibit, is represented by a series of works in charcoal on paper hanging scrolls. Each depicts the long, flowing tresses of an Asian(-American) woman, combining the aesthetics of traditional Chinese ink painting with an astonishing idealized realism, in the individual fine strands of hair, and careful attention to how light reflects off of it. One of these pieces, titled My Life Strands, is meant to suggest the twists of one’s hair as symbol or metaphor for the twisting path one takes through life, from youth into adulthood. Another is titled Cyclone, a reference to Hong’s current base of operations in Lawrence, Kansas; though we may joke about Kansas being the middle of nowhere, the University of Kansas, based in that same town of Lawrence, along with its on-campus museum, are actually known as a major center for studying Asian art. In fact, Roger Shimomura, another artist featured in this exhibit, is also based in Lawrence (and teaches at U of K).

A massive series of photos by Korean-American artist CYJO takes up the entirety of the corridor (for the length of the exhibit; other exhibits lay beyond). Her KYOPO Project consists of over 200 photographs, each depicting a Korean-American individual, simply standing in front of a plain, simple background. Each is accompanied by a short statement, excerpted from interviews with the individual, commenting on their personal relationship with their identity as “Korean-American” or “Korean & American.” Each photo individually is a rather plain piece, but in aggregate they provide a fascinating glimpse into the incredible diversity of the Korean-American community(ies) and complexity of individuals’ identities. And, of course, as one might expect, what these people relate is perfectly translatable to the experience of any one of us. It’s about the specifics of the Korean / Korean-American circumstance, sure, but nearly everything here is equally applicable whether you’re Greek-American, Vietnamese-American, or Armenian-American. All of us have a side to our identity that’s “American,” that makes us feel at home within an American cultural context, i.e. when surrounded by other Americans, yet which sets us apart as different when in the land (or culture) of our ancestors, whether it be Peru, France, or Korea. And all of us have a side of ourselves that sets us apart from other Americans, and which makes us feel at home within the specific cultural context of our heritage, whether that be in Chinatown, at a Russian Orthodox Church, at a Japan Society event, or at a relative’s quinceañera.

There was a time when my biggest wish was to be as “American” as I could. When looking different first became a source of rejection, in some ways I rejected my heritage. But now that I’ve grown and started to raise my own family, I feel an undeniable sense of gratitude to my parents and the values they worked so hard to instill in me, values shaped by a country half a world away. I’ll always be grateful to America for being a place where part of what it means to be a proud American is the ability to be openly proud of being Korean.

I wish I had taken more notes about individuals’ lives and messages, but I remember some of the general trends. I read about people who felt extremely close to their Korean identity, and others with more or less no connection to Korea. Many resented their parents for not being able to speak better English, and had little interest in Korean culture when they were young, thinking it strange, embarrassing, old-fashioned, or just plain lame insofar as that American popular culture was the very definition of “cool”; it was only when they were older that they came to appreciate the Korean side of their heritage and identity. Many regretted not speaking Korean more fluently, or lamented how being Korean-American means always being thought of as “Korean” when among [non-Korean-]Americans, being seen as “American” when in Korea, and never really fitting in in either place. These are stories that I think many of us can relate to; the stories of the many people pictured share many common threads, collectively weaving together a colorful picture of the Korean-American experience. But, there was great diversity as well. Some were blond; some were adopted. One gentleman was, if I remember correctly, African-American, but adopted and raised by white parents in Korea, making him, actually, much closer to Korea as his home and as his culture than many of the Americans of Korean descent raised in the United States. Korean-American Esther Park Goodhart is a comedian, and Hebrew teacher at four different schools, and describes herself in her statement as “Queen of the Jews.” And Jun Choi spoke about being elected mayor of Edison, NJ, a beautiful example of the diversity and ideals of America, in how a young Korean-American man can be elected mayor in a primarily white/black/Hispanic city with no sizable Korean community. (Edison was 1.63% Korean according to the 2000 Census.) I imagine that if I were more involved and connected with Korean-American communities, I might recognize more prominent figures amongst those featured here, but as is I was excited to see Greg Pak and Daniel Dae Kim.

CYJO’s installation reminds me of a video on display at the Center for Jewish History here in New York as part of an exhibition on the history of Jews in New York (until Dec 31, 2012). In it, we see interviews with a handful of members of the community sharing their thoughts on what it means to be a New York Jew. Personally, I thought this video, and indeed the whole exhibit, fascinating, though I wonder how many others would. Korean-Americans are perpetually seen as different, as immigrants, and while that in itself is a problem that I believe many of the artists in “Portraiture Now!” address, I do think that this makes the Korean-American experience an interesting one for many people. I don’t want to get into the discourses of the “model minority,” or the touchy political complexities of how Koreans might be viewed (in general / stereotypically) in American society, i.e. those things that make Korean-Americans, perhaps, a perfect group to show in this exhibition. But, I really wonder, if this series of photographs depicted Jewish-Americans rather than Korean-Americans, what kind of attention would the (Jewish-American) artist receive? What kind of response would the exhibit receive? Would it even be shown? This may be controversial, but I have a sense that people think the Jewish story has already been told, or that because we are (most of us) white, that our story doesn’t matter, or that we don’t have a story, or that purely by virtue of being white we are either not immigrants, or that we are part of the privileged minority and thus can’t be considered a “minority.” Then, too, of course, there are all the complexities added in by the political controversies regarding Israel, and the complex of anti-Semitic stereotypes about Jews having too much power, too much money, too much influence. I don’t know how far anti-Korean sentiment might go here in the US, but I do know that there are whole swaths of society that would react negatively to the suggestion of anything asking them to identify with Jews, or to think the Jewish story worth hearing, or to think the Jewish story an integral part of the American story. … I see the connections. I look at Korean-American stories and think of my own stories. But as much as I would love to see an exhibition addressing the diversity of Jewish-American identity in this same way, I don’t think it can, or would, be shown, or would receive as positive (or at worst, neutral) a response as it being done with Korean-Americans, as part of an exhibit of Asian-American art. What do you think?

“Portraiture Now! Asian American Portraits of Encounter” shows at the National Portrait Gallery at Washington DC’s Gallery Place / Chinatown Metro stop until October 14, 2012. Admission is free.
More about this exhibit, here, within the next couple days.

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Obama no Obama, and Perry’s Gifts

Oops. I forgot that I had this draft sitting here. About a month ago (yikes! it’s been too long since I’ve posted), I attended the exhibition opening for “Obama no Obama,” an exhibit at the Japanese Cultural Center of Hawaii, curated by Prof. Christine Yano, and highlighting “Obama merchandise,” or 『オバマ・グッズ』 from the Japanese city of Obama.

I have no pictures from the event, since we were not allowed to take pictures in the gallery, but I’m sure if you just Google, you’ll be able to find plenty of examples of the “I <3 Obama" goods being produced/sold in Obama City, from T-shirts and lanyards to “Yes We Can (of coffee)” to manju stamped with “I <3 Obama" on them, to lots of even weirder crazier stuff.

Obama was once a castle town, the center of a small han in Wakasa province, a major medieval seaport, and even today a major center for the production of lacquered chopsticks. It seems like a town with some serious historical value and other tourist interest that was in sore need of something to drum up business, and then, poof, there it was! Barack Obama catapulted onto the world stage in 2004, and began campaigning for president a few years later, and Obama City saw its opportunity!

I am sure that Dr. Yano has all kinds of complex, intensely insightful things she could say about this phenomenon, from an anthropological standpoint, but she also seems to just really enjoy the wackiness of it all.

For the opening, the mayor of Obama City was here, along with several members of the “We Love Obama Society”, and a hula troupe which formed in Obama City in celebration of their tenuous and wacky connection to Barack Obama, and through him to Hawaii. Their sensei (or kumu hula) was super nice – I ended up talking to her briefly. She’s from Tokyo, but just had a sort of energy about her that made me wonder if she was from here; she’s got a very good spirit.

Here’s a video of one of the Obama Girls’ hula performances. You can find two more on my YouTube account.

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On a perhaps slightly related note (insofar as it relates to US-Japan relations), I’ve found that a nice catalog of the Smithsonian holdings of gifts received by Commodore Perry in Japan and Ryukyu is freely available online. The book, entitled “Artifacts of Diplomacy: Smithsonian collections from Commodore Matthew Perry’s Japan Expedition (1853-1854),” can be found at: http://www.sil.si.edu/smithsoniancontributions/Anthropology/pdf_lo/SCtA-0037.pdf.

Perhaps most exciting and interesting for me is the lists, towards the very end of the catalog, of gifts given and received on specific dates by Commodore Perry and his entourage. I see no mention of the Gokoku-ji bronze temple bell, fashioned in 1456, and taken by Perry and hung at the Annapolis US Naval Academy where, I have heard, it was rung every time Navy beat Army in football, until the bell was returned in the 1980s or so; nor do I see any mention of Okinawan coral limestone brought back by Perry to be inserted into the Washington Monument, then under construction. (The stone was in the end inserted, at the 220th landing. Hopefully, it’s visible and marked today; I’ll have to take a look the next time I am in DC.) But, even so, to see the lists of exactly how many fans, bolts of silk, pouches of tobacco, etc. the Commodore and his people received on each visit to Ryukyu, and what sorts of gifts they gave to the Ryukyuan royalty and officials in return, is really quite interesting.

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Meanwhile, as just sort of a side note, the Korean Uigwe texts which I mentioned about a year ago that Japan was talking about returning, are now in the process of actually being returned. I think this is a great thing for Korea, and hopefully this will actually foster some goodwill, rather than being viewed by Koreans as just getting back what the “evil” Japan “stole” from them.

Putting aside whether or not the books should be returned – I think it’s a great effort of goodwill that they are being returned – I maintain my view that their “theft” was not “illegal” as the Korean YonHap News Agency would have it. Korea was a part of Japan at that time just as much as Okinawa is today; if moving these books to Tokyo during peacetime constituted “looting” or “theft”, then so does moving objects of Okinawan importance to Tokyo, or moving objects of Hawaiian importance to Washington, or moving Welsh or Scottish objects to London. Call it immoral or inappropriate if you like, or culturally insensitive, but it’s not illegal.

Another “Quick Links” coming up soon!

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Nam June Paik at the National Gallery of Art

Came across today a beautiful, fascinating Nam Jun Paik installation at the National Gallery. A bronze Buddha staring at a live feed of itself on TV screens, live feeds of a single candle projected large all over the room. Is this “Buddhist art”? Is it to be meditated upon as a religious space, or contemplated as an art installation? What do you think?

It is, in any case, to me, avant-garde, unusual, thought-provoking, but beautiful, not abstract, and drawing upon historical and cultural associations. Just the way I like my contemporary art.

My advisor taught a course on Buddhist art a year or so ago, including a section on works such as these. I kind of wish now that I had sat in on those lectures or discussions, as he was talking specifically about Nam June Paik and precisely about these kinds of works. Yet, even without that, or any real expertise in Buddhist art, let alone anything beyond the most basic knowledge of Nam June Paik’s work, or Korean Buddhism, or Korean-American art, without any of that, the work still really speaks me, makes me feel something, and makes me think and question and wonder. And that, perhaps, is one of the true measures of a successful work of art.

Nam June Paik’s installation will be up in the Tower Gallery in the East Building of the National Gallery of Art, Washington DC, until October 2, 2011.

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Art & Archaeology News Quick Links

I’ve been saving up links for a few days now… Kept meaning to write a post about one or two of them, but then they became five, and now I must admit I just sort of feel like I need to get them done with. Lots of interesting stuff, though. Thanks, as always, to Archaeology.org’s news feed for keeping interested parties informed.

(1) Back in 2003, scientists in China discovered an ancient Han Dynasty village amazingly well-preserved under layers of sediment; it is believed that perhaps the Yellow River flooded too much, or somewhat out of season, catching the villagers off-guard and causing them to flee their homes.

More recently, however, archaeologists have found signs or remnants of even more ancient, that is, older, fields beneath the village. Discover Magazine has dubbed it one of the top 100 finds of the year; this could be a breakthrough in our understanding of ancient Chinese agriculture, and sericulture (the cultivation of silkworms).

The official website for the Sanyangzhuang Project can be found here.

(2) Meanwhile, a collection of Korean royal records known as the Uigwe, amounting to as many as 297 volumes, are to be loaned or returned entirely back to Korea after over a century in the National Library of France.

Looted by France in the 19th century (the article from the Korea Herald doesn’t provide further details on the circumstances of their acquisition), the books are records of royal protocols, including illustrations of wedding and funeral rituals, the receiving of foreign missions, and royal banquets, and are of a type of book which were traditionally stored on Ganghwa Island, as a means of protecting them from invaders.

Curators at the library have opposed the loan, citing laws against the loan of public property. The article suggests that curators’ requests to see the collection digitized before it is sent to Korea are efforts to delay the loan; this may be true – the reporter may have further inside information – but based on the cursory information provided here in the article, I would myself be a bit less hasty to be so cynical. Digitizing the books would mean the French Library, its patrons, scholars in France and elsewhere in Europe, not to mention around the world, would have greater access to the materials. It’s just something that is done these days, and is a good idea, especially if you are about to lose a series of objects. So, I don’t think it’s a delaying tactic, but rather a reaction, to say “oh, we’re giving the books away? we should make a digital copy so we can still have them. Maintain the connections between the objects and the library, and maintain access to them.”

(3) Speaking of France, congratulations to the country of France for the return of the embalmed head of King Henry IV (r. 1589-1610), which was stolen in 1793 and passed around by private dealers and collectors in the centuries since.

A head found in the attic of a retired tax collector has been identified as very likely being that of Henry IV, and will be reinterred in early 2011.

(4) Excavations at Nagaoka-kyô, which was the capital of the Yamato state (i.e. “Japan”) from 784-794, have revealed a set of walls which experts believe may be the first ever discovered signs of the West Palace of Nagaoka-kyô, heretofore only known from documents.

Other scholars, however, argue that these walls belong simply to a garden complex, arguing based on the layout of the capital at Naniwa.

(5) Finally, the New York Times today offers an extensive feature on the restoration of a portrait of Philip IV by Velasquez.

Identified by scholars at the Metropolitan in 1973 as being merely from the studio or workshop of Velasquez, and severely damaged, the painting has now been re-identified as having been by the hand of Velasquez himself, and has been beautifully cleaned and restored.

An interactive feature allowing you to scroll over the image to see the before and after is quite neat; the Times has been using this a lot lately, like a child with a new toy.

Images of the details, and of the before and after are truly stunning. If you’re interested, please do take a look at this article and feature, filled with quotes from curators and other experts, and interesting facts and narratives relating to Velasquez as a court painter, and similar works in other major museum collections.

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Japan offers to return artifacts stolen from Korea during colonial period

Prime Minister Kan Naoto made an important statement on August 10, formally apologizing on behalf of the entire country for Japan’s annexation of Korea in 1910 and the wrongs committed during the colonial period. In the course of this speech, he promised to “transfer”(1) some number of artifacts and documents seized by the Japanese during the colonial period and currently in the hands of the Japanese government.

This was a pretty major event, and stirred up its share of controversy, attracting attention not only from the Japanese and Korean media, but from Western and international media as well.

Putting aside the inevitable arguments about whether this apology was sincere, whether it’s enough, whether anything will ever be enough to satisfy the Koreans, focusing on this promise to return artifacts, there would seem to be two major issues. One, how many objects will the Japanese return, how many should they return, how many is appropriate or enough? Two, there is controversy over the fact that Japan is not offering to return any artifacts in private hands.

Let me address the latter first. I can easily imagine the arguments made against the idea that Japan should only return objects in public possession. It seems like a sleight-of-hand, a trick, a way for Japan to avoid returning objects just as illegally(2) stolen, as if it was intended, conspiratorially, all along, that certain objects would be sold into private hands precisely for the purpose of not returning them when such a “transfer” as this one now is proposed. Essentially, it’s choosing to look at it as a conspiracy, a sneaky plot, when really it’s nothing more than the natural way of things. People buy and sell things all the time, acting in their own best interests, and when it comes down to it, though the government can request private individuals to return objects, and could probably even force them to do so through legislation, it’s just not really done in any country (such as South Korea) that respects private property ownership rights.

As for the first issue, the more I think about such things – not just in the Korea-Japan case, but in the Parthenon Marbles example, and in most cases around the world – the more I think that returning objects to their country of origin should be done as a gesture of good will by the giving country, and not under pressure from the receiving country. It is only in the last 40 years or so, I believe, that we have any real system of international laws about the trafficking in stolen artifacts. When it comes to things that fall under that rubric – such as the Euphronios krater, purchased by the Metropolitan from a black market dealer who in turn obtained it from tomb raiders – it’s a completely different story. But when it comes to things obtained as a matter of conquest, imperialist activities, transfers of objects within a colonial empire, and the like, to put it plainly, you may not like it, but it’s legal (or, it was until after WWII).

Peoples, nations, have been invading one another for millennia, seizing artifacts in the course of the war or raid, or simply moving them within the empire after conquest. When these issues are discussed today, the lens generally tends to fall on the Western countries, and on Japan, as the possessors, or purchasers, of artifacts stolen from so-called “source countries”; two categories have been established. However, in fact, historically, of course, every nation has at one time or another conquered another nation, raided from them, or otherwise obtained objects not originally theirs. What can be said about Japan’s “stealing” of objects from Korea goes just the same for the US & Hawaii, the US & Japan for that matter, China & Tibet, the UK & Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, and, as a matter of fact, for hundreds of other cases. What about things the Vikings stole from Scotland? Is the modern nation-state of Norway responsible? What about objects stolen from Guryeo (Korea) by the Mongols (i.e. the Yuan Dynasty of China)? Surely, there must be some kind of statute of limitations on this. I hesitate to name any specific number of years, because, after all, what number could you cite, when the history of conquest was so different in so many different parts of the world? But surely, some limitation must be given.

Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely think that Japan should return these objects – especially the older ones, the rarer ones, the more historically significant or culturally precious ones – as a gesture of goodwill. But I think they should do so because it’s a good idea, because of what it might help lead to for the future, and not because they should feel morally obligated as if keeping these objects were a crime.

I visited the Bishop Museum here in Honolulu yesterday. The Museum is the chief museum of Hawaiian culture and history, and possesses the largest collection of Polynesian artifacts in the world. This summer, they have on display the only three wooden statues of the Hawaiian god Kū remaining in the world (most were destroyed when the Kingdom of Hawaii converted to Christianity and decided to burn all the idols of the old religion). One is owned by the Bishop Museum, and the other two are on loan from the Peabody-Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts, and from the British Museum in London. Both of these two museums have extensive collections of Polynesian artifacts, and I think it quite safe to assume that most of these artifacts were obtained within the context of colonialist, imperialist exploration and conquest and such. I recall seeing once at the British Museum a Tuamotu canoe which is said to have been among the first objects brought back to Britain by Captain Cook and his men. Yet, notice that while the Hawaiian people can be quite up in arms about sovereignty and such in many cases, when it comes to relations with these museums, the Bishop actually has quite friendly relationships with the PEM and the BM. No one is angrily demanding that objects be given back, and no one on the other side has reason to fear that Hawaii is going to refuse to return objects they borrow. These Kū statues were rescued from destruction at the hands of Hawaiian Christians, and serving an important purpose of educating and inspiring people elsewhere in the world to know more about Hawaii, and to be interested in it. They were loaned to the Bishop Museum and will be sent back, and I am sure that over the years, plenty of other Polynesian artifacts have been, and will be, loaned, and returned, with amicable relations, no shaken fists, no demands for apologies… Maybe some other peoples around the world could learn something from this…

At least the Koreans are focusing on things taken in 1910-1945, and not shaking their fists about artifacts seized by a completely different Japan from a completely different Korea in the 1590s. That’s a step up from reports or arguments I have heard in the past.

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(1) “Artifact transfer may cause friction: Ownership question could keep in Japan some Korean items seized during colonial rule.” Japan Times Online. 16 August 2010.

(2) I employ the word “illegal” here because it is a word very commonly used in this sort of context, and one which I am sure the Korean media (and much Western media) employs in this particular context. However, I include a note here because I believe that, technically, literally, it does not apply. When Korea was a part of the Japanese Empire, it was under Japanese law, and so the only way this could be “illegal” would be if it were in violation of Japanese law. During that time, moving objects from Seoul to Tokyo would have been no more unusual or illegal than moving objects from, say, Nagasaki to Tokyo, or from Arizona to New York.

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Art21: Art in the Twenty-First Century

I just noticed that Hulu is hosting 16 full-length episodes of the PBS series “Art21″. Each episode features several artists from around the globe whose work can be connected to a given theme, such as Identity, Hope, or Play.

Here is the third season episode “Memory”, including a segment on Sugimoto Hiroshi, to get you started:

… I don’t know why embedding isn’t working, but here’s the link for the episode: Check it out.

I must admit I am unfamiliar with nearly all of the artists featured in this series, but am eagerly waiting for Hulu to post episodes from Season Five, which will feature artists such as Jeff Koons, Cao Fei, and Yinka Shonibare.

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Samuel Hawley on the Imjin War

I guess my blog has in recent weeks become nothing but reposts… I promise, soon, I’ll find the time to post my own fully formed posts again.

In the meantime, though, the Shogun-ki blog, the official blog of the Samurai Archives Japanese History Page, has posted an excellent interview with amateur historian Samuel Hawley, author of The Imjin War, a thick 664 page book on Hideyoshi’s invasions of Korea in the 1590s. I must admit that I’ve never been too interested in the Imjin War, for whatever reasons, but from what I gather from the interview, it sounds like the general consensus on the Samurai-Archives Forum is that Hawley’s book is the best one out there right now in English, and is also one of the first.

If I’m not interested in the Imjin War, why would I bother posting about this interview?

I’m glad you asked. It’s because I really like Hawley’s attitude and approach to history, as revealed in some excellent quotes:

So why didn’t some history professor with much better language skills than me write a book on the Imjin War first? The reason, I think, is that the topic is too big, too wide-ranging for an academic to tackle. Academics tend to choose very narrow topics to specialize in (i.e. “The Impact of the Imjin War on Rice Production in Cholla Province”), then spend the rest of their careers protecting this little quarter-acre of ground. It’s the safe approach. I mean, once you become the foremost expert on Cholla rice production in the 1590s as it relates to the war, no one is going to be able to criticize your work, right?

…

“The book, you’ll note, is narrative history, not a dissertation. In other words, its purpose is to “tell the story,” not to advance any particular core thesis.”

…

“I wasn’t trying to put any sort of revisionist stamp on anything because I saw myself as a chronicler and storyteller (heck, it’s an interesting story and deserves to be told well), not as an academic trying to come up with some new interpretation.”

…

About the warrior monks, I’ll just say this: If I had written a dissertation on them, I bet I would have concluded that they had played a bigger role too. And if I had written a dissertation on the role of the Ming army in beating back the Japanese, hey, I bet I would have concluded that they had played the crucial role too. And if someone comes out with a book on the role of women in the Imjin War, I can tell you right now that the thesis will be that they played a darn big role. That’s the way it works when you set out to prove some sort of core thesis. My own book is not a dissertation; I didn’t have any core thesis to push, for example that the Koreans could have won the war on their own or something like that. I speculate on things along the way and express opinions, of course, but my ultimate purpose was just to tell the story.

And there it is. I could write pages on my thoughts on the subject, on how the academic drive to constantly find new interpretations and the obsession with having an argument obscures the actual historical narrative and interesting facts and discoveries you may have found… But I think I’ll just leave it there. Of course Hawley does not represent my view 100%, but suffice it to say, I appreciate what he has to say, and stand on his side for the most part, against the view that in academia the evidence must always be subsumed by the argument, and that narrative history – putting the facts, the events out there in the clear, chronological, expositionary, sometimes humorous and sometimes dramatic, way that really engages reader and researcher alike – is no good.

*Disclaimer, though, that I am fully aware of the issues surrounding the question of just how factual facts can be, how we can never really be sure about the real historical truth, how repeating the same versions of the story without questioning them is just perpetuating a possibly incorrect and flawed discourse, etc etc. Yes, I know. And I take that into account and everything. But, even so, does not new scholarship twist and skew the truth, too, by emphasizing one element (e.g. the importance of Cholla Province, because you haven’t bothered to research any other provinces) over others? Even if we accept that true objectivity can never be attained, does not the picking and choosing of this evidence but not that evidence in order to support your argument add extra subjectivity? Should not the goal be to represent history as truthfully as possible, and not through a lens?

… I’m starting to rant. I’m going to stop myself there.

If you’re interested, please do check out the full interview at the Shogun-ki blog, and keep your eyes open for other exciting stuff the S-A guys (and girls) are up to!

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Koreans fight for the return of artifacts from Japan

At the risk of stirring up controversy as I did with my comments on the Cyrus cylinder, I feel the need to touch upon this topic which came up in the news today. Archaeology.org’s news feed linked today to an article from the JoongAng Daily which discusses one Korean monk’s fight for certain artifacts, stolen or otherwise obtained by Japan in the 20th century, to be returned to Korea.

Let me first say that when it comes to certain artifacts – most artifacts – stolen in this way, at this time, I am all for the amicable return of these objects as a gesture of friendship and of doing what’s right on the part of the Japanese. Objects looted from Imperial Palaces and other sites during the colonial occupation of Korea are looted and should be returned. (Well, actually, there’s a bit more nuance here – things looted during battle, such as happened in China, are “looted”, while things moved from one part of the Japanese Empire to another part decades after Korea was made part of that Empire are a slightly different situation, like moving Hawaiian artifacts to the Smithsonian. Even so, I would support their return.) However, what irks me, in this case, as well as in many other cases around the world, is the accusatory and confrontational demands made by the “victimized” party.

I don’t like the idea of Koreans demanding that Japan apologize for its wrongs, and restore its honor by returning these objects that they “hold in captivity”…. the whole attitude makes it all sound quite anti-Japanese, quite negative, confrontational, and accusatory. Rather, it should be a friendly sort of arrangement, initiated by Korean politicians in amicable negotiations, or even better, initiated by Japan, not demanded angrily by Korean citizens.

Secondly, while I am totally not opposed to an expectation that certain documents and paintings and whatever, genuinely Korean objects, ought to be returned, the fact that this monk (and presumably many others fighting for similar causes) speaks specifically about a sword used to murder Empress Myeongseong, rather irks me. It’s a Japanese object, too. Forged by a Japanese swordsmith in the 16th century, wielded by many Japanese people at many times for many purposes within Japan, and then finally in 1895 wielded by a Japanese assassin in Korea, and donated by that assassin to a Japanese temple, what makes this a Korean object that it should be “returned”?

Furthermore, the fact that he differentiates between the killings of Empress Myeongseong and Prime Minister Itô Hirobumi, claiming the latter as justified, and the former as a horrible murder… well, that’s just not objective or balanced, is it? If you want to consider the former to be a horrible travesty, a murder and assassination of “the empress of a nation”, then I should think you need to consider the murder of the first Prime Minister of Japan, a man who is in many ways akin to a Founding Father of the Nation, who did a great many great things for Japan (if not for Korea), in addition to being involved in some less admirable activities, such as his involvement of the assassination of Myeongseong. Sorry, but I don’t feel that the Japanese sword which was used to kill Empress Myeongseong is any more a Korean artifact than the Japanese swords used to kill any number of US soldiers are American artifacts.

It comes down to something I’ve spoken about before – if you’re going to be crazy nationalistic, you need to understand other people’s nationalism too. Where is the weapon used to kill Itô Hirobumi? What else does Korea hold as strong nationalistic symbols that might be seen as offensive to other countries or peoples? How can you not see the equivalences here?

George of “George in Korea” addresses the subject briefly as well in a recent blog post.

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