The Image of the Dragon In Korea

The world is a big place.  Many things that I experienced in Korea brought home the feeling of this bigness, rather than a flip thought.  One of them was the frequently-displayed swastika which has a gut reaction in me.  I soon learnt that (a) the symbol was reversed and ancient, (b) it is close to universal, as an image, and (c) it signifies health in the Buddhist faith.  The second was the image of the dragon.

In the West, it goes without saying, the image of the dragon is negative:  the Greek origin of the word is that of “the huge serpent”, bearing then, a negative aura since Adam and Eve.  St George slays the dragon in many Christian images over the centuries and the Good triumphs over Evil.  In South Africa, something of the awe of the dragon is captured in the name of the highest mountain range, the Drakensberg.

St George and the Dragon. Etching by Corbin

In Korea, it is different.  This creature is seen as beneficent, a powerful king.  Children, especially, take delight in the portrayal of the dragon and even performing it.  (See Chinese New Year festivals with the performing of the dragon in streets.)  The portrayals on drums are swirls of colour.

The features are grotesque, yes, though grotesquerie may be seen differently in Korea from the way it is seen in the West.  This I learnt especially in seeing the Jangseun, the traditional carvings of faces on logs.  With the dragon, there is something suave in those gross features.  I remember seeing only one sculpture of a dragon which I found striking.

© Will van der Walt

www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

 

Images

My photographs

St George – Magnoliabox.com 

 

See also on http://www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Jangseung – Grotesquerie at Hahoe Village 16.09.2012

 

YAKOUBA – a remarkable book

Perhaps I am late in waking to this experience.  Perhaps it is part of our history as South Africans to have a gradual awakening to the treasures of Africa. If there is a translation, I haven’t seen it.  For me, Yakouba has been a revelation  –  for the production of the book, for the text and for the illustrations.

The brief story deals with the traditionally all-important issue of initiation for boys in Africa. The ending has an unexpected twist, something that one may understand more in the light of the fact that the well-known and prize-winning writer-illustrator Thierry Dedieu, is French and, in this case, white.  The ending runs counter to the age-old expectations of a boy undergoing an initiation adventure-trial.  The boy questions what boys have faced since the dawn of time — danger that makes you or breaks you.  From this questioning there emerges a profound respect for life.

The illustrations which truly amplify the text are done in charcoal (I think).  The effect is a striking contrast of deep shadow and a blinding light source.  I don’t think I have seen such monumental portrayals of human beings.  In this work, there is severe generosity, triumphant solemnity and affirming humanity.  These illustrations, works of art, become images to contemplate.

 

(c)  Will van der Walt 

http://www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

February, 2019

 

Source and images

YAKOUBA by Thierry Dedieu  (Seuil Jeunesse. Paris, 1994/2017)

 

 

 

Television: Crime series

With a 24/7 channel on crime series or policiers, together with scattered broadcasts of crime stories elsewhere, French television viewers spend much time watching the world of police investigators.

I remember becoming aware of this in the early years after 1976 when South Africa was first introduced to television.  The series was Dereck, dubbed into Afrikaans from the German.  I was struck by the psychological depth of the character depictions, even by the general melancholy that coloured these stories.  There was nothing smugly righteous here.  It would seem that crime series in the countries that generate this television content have changed greatly from what was previously done.

In France, you see the New York Special Unit series, produced by Dick Wolf, as is much quality work from America;  there is the French Maigrait , based on the writing of Georges Simenon;  there is Inspector Barnaby , the long-time favourite in England.  Each is these is brilliantly dubbed, making my understanding skimpy, to say the least.  I mention but three.

In each of them the matter of Good winning over Evil, a pattern that does not change, has become more complex than its predecessors.  Often, one is left with a piercing sense of tragedy, even though justice has been served.  If, for example, one is tempted to think of the inspectors themselves being cardboard-cutouts, there are also stories of their personal difficulties, sometimes leaving them on their knees, so to speak.

We are now far from the Good Guy in his white hat and the Bad Guy in his black hat.  In literature, of course, writers have always sought depth, both in those who assert the good and those who usurp it.  At random, I think of Graham Greene’s Gun for Sale, where the story is seen from the criminal’s mind and the crime he commits is a twisted form of justice.

They have my admiration, the producers, the writers, the actors.  The scripts are sophisticated and memorable.  For me, though, I can only watch them in small doses  — the brutal realism is taxing.

© Will van der Walt

www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

February, 2019

 

Source

France television

 

Images

My drawing

Source lost

Source lost

My photograph

My photograph

Pinterest photograph 

 

 

Korean fans

On the day that I visited Chomorosa, a suburb of northern Seoul, I saw, amongst the many other historical things, an exhibition of fans –  buchae  -, some dating from the Josean period 600 years ago.

 

Most of them were not decorated, but were fashioned from special paper.  Could that be rice paper?

 

The two that were decorated were exceptional.

 

If one looks at images of women in traditional garb there were many accoutrements for the ladies of the court, the fan being the proverbial cherry on top.

There is a long colourful history of dancing with fans in Korea.  The women who dance wear traditional dresses and often carry two fans each.  These dances express the beauty of nature through dance:  they mime the movements of butterflies, form flowers and mime ocean waves with these fans.

I saw modern fans at Insa Dong, the street mall near the centre of Seoul.   A clear departure from tradition.

 

© Will van der Walt

www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

February, 2019

 

Source

Korean paper fans

 

Images

My photographs

 

In Andong, I saw an artist personalising fans with messages

Accents é è ê ë

I am not a rocket scientist.  And I suppose then, the sad truth is that I will not be learning French in a hurry.  You see this in the accents, to mention one thing.

                                                                   É   è   ê   ë

There are accents in English — café, résumé, recipé  —  all of which came from French.  Those words are often spelt without the accents and their use may be seen as pretentious.

                                                                   È   ë   é   ê

Afrikaans has more accents  —  dié, nè, sê, spieël.

                                                                  Ë    ê   é   è  

What I find is that I start imagining things about these accents.

The circumflex in  forêt  (forest)  is a little woodcutter’s cottage.

In  bâtiment  (building)  I see the roof this edifice.

In  âge (age)  I see an old man with a hat.

Sûrité  (certainty)  leaves me uncertain with all that is happening above that word.

Hôpital  (hospital)  gives a roof or shelter to the sick and injured.

Noël  (Christmas)  has two Christmas lights appearing through the seasonal mists.

Déjà  (already)  seems to point to the future and the past.

Célébré  (celebrating)  has firecrackers over it.

                                                                        Ë   ê   é   è

And, the matter of accents is an intricate one.  In French, pêcheur  is a fisherman;  pécheur is a sinner.

So, if you’re not a rocket scientist, and intend to master this tongue, you’ll have to watch your P’s and Q’s.

I have wondered what it must be like to slash, with élan, an accent on one of the letters of your name each time you’ve written it … so much more potent than a fullstop — André, Stéphane, Frédéric.

© Will vàn dér Wàlt

www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

February, 2019

 

Source

George Millo Ayacan:  French Accents Marks: the ultimate guide

 

My drawing

 

L’accent aigu? L’accent grave?

 

 

 

The Rocks of Taoism

I saw a number of Taoist rocks in various places in Korea.  It could be that the principles of this ancient pre-Buddhist belief system are still felt by modern Koreans.  The rocks, in their extreme weathered state, are often placed where they will be noticed easily.

It is in these rocks, I’ve been told, that we can see the breaking up of what is hard to become new matter, the principle of constant renewal in the universe.  It suggests too, the principle of creative chaos.  In this context, they brood, evoking for me the beginnings of human spirituality.

The rock at Yeongpyongsa

I’m not sure whether they are related, but it is popular to place a huge rock, rough and cumbersome, at the entrance, perhaps, of a skyscraper in Seoul.  These rocks are not as weathered and might even have been carved for the purpose.  Then, they are graced with the name of the company in hangul. 

Elsewhere people love rocks and make rock gardens.  They would not, I think, attach spiritual meaning to this and say, Well, I just like rocks.  Of the two views, I know which one I find more attractive.

Rock in the gardens of the Cultural History museum gardens, Seoul

 

© Will van der Walt

www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

February, 2019

 

Source

Wikipedia Taoism

Images

My photographs

 

 

 

Antibes, St Paul and early Christianity

I grew up in Stilfontein, a new mining township in South Africa with a history that began a few years before the arrival of my family.  When you look at the subtitle of a history on Antibes — 2500 years of history — you are in a different world.  One of the many things that intrigues me about this history which, by the way, is not contained in this time limit, is the blurred line between legend and established facts.  The historian of the book gives us her view on early Christianity in Antibes.

Engravings of Peter and Paul, Catacombs, Rome, 2nd – 3rd-century.  See secret monogram.

“Christianity probably rose at Antibes in the first or second centuries a.d.  If tradition is to be believed, St Paul, on route to Spain, would have stopped at Antibes in the year 63.  This statement is controversial and one does not know if the Apostle made followers in the small Roman municipality.  In reality, one knows nothing about the origin of Christianity in Antibes.  And this lack of knowledge is inherent in the doctrine and the history of the Christian religion.  Rising in Palestine amongst the lower classes, Christianity appeared at Antibes as with all the towns of the West, amongst the poor, to whom it promised heaven to console them with their misery, and the slaves to whom it was to bring freedom.

Oldest known portrait of Paul, catacombs, end 3rd-century

“How could these miserable people, most of them illiterate, and threatened with the worst tortures if they were denounced, leave written testimonies of their meetings, their difficulties, their progress?  At Antibes, as everywhere in the world, early Christianity was the religion of silence and secrecy.”

Ichthys, secret symbol of Christ, Ephesus

Out of this uncertainty about St Paul there is a story for me as a fiction writer.  Imagine, if after heavy rains, someone discovers that a cave, hitherto unknown, has appeared.  It is a place that was apparently inhabited by early Christians who left parchments behind — Letter to the Citizens of Antipolis.  What Paul writes causes a major shake-up in the world.  Hm, perhaps I should end it by having the Church suppressing the contents of the letter.

Secret monogram for Christ’s name, Catacombs San Callisto, Rome, 2nd-century

It remains interesting to be in a place where some of these things happened and others might have happened.

© Will van der Walt

www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

January, 2019

 

Source

Elena Dor de la Souchère:  Antibes 2500 ans d’histoire.  Maisonneuve  & Larose.  Ville d’Antibes, 2006.

Images

Peter and Paul – Eternal City tours

Paul fresco – source lost

XP – source lost

Ichthys –

 

 

 

The tile painter of Cheongju

 

The city of Cheongju is due south from the town where I taught, a drive of about three-quarters of an hour on the highway.  My Korean colleague, Mrs Kim, invited me to attend the festivities of Budddha’s birthday.  It was a memorable day with much to ponder.  I felt at times I was at a church bazaar, except that people were laying flowers at the feet of the Buddha figure.  I remember the date — the 12^th May — as it was also my granny Lena’s birthday.  I also heard, at the main temple, some of the most beautiful communal singing I have yet heard.

What I remember too, was the painter of tiles whom I met there.  I found these paintings on the rough surfaces quite exceptional, colourful and celebratory.  Since I don’t know much about Buddhism, I would not be in a position to speculate about the precise meaning of the images.  I stood in wonder anyway.

Mrs Kim acted as translator and I could only express my admiration to the painter.  She had a kind of radiance about her, an inwardness that comes from spiritual fulfilment.  The images were apparently statements of faith.  Looking at the work, I could only marvel at what she had achieved on those rough surfaces.

© Will van der Walt

www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

May, 2019

 

My photographs

 

Kunstenaar (links), Mev Kim (regs)

 

Die kunstenaar van Cheongju

 

 

Max Jacob (1876 – 1944)

I see his name on the street corner as I walk by.  Like the other street names, it is the name of a poet.

He was an avant-garde poet of the Modernist era.  Writing prose-poetry, he created wordplay, disregarded diction, punctuated at will and overturned the French traditions.  Born in Bretagne into a Jewish family, he soon joined the bohemia of Montmartre where he supported the newly-arrived Catalonian artist Pablo Picasso.  He introduced Picasso to the artists and poets of Paris.  His anthology Le Cornet à des (The Dice Box) in 1914 was a landmark in literary history.  He was also a novelist, a critic and a painter.

What is called a sincere work is one that is endowed with enough  strength to give reality to an illusion    –    Max Jacob 

 

Jacob in 1934

He lived a life torn between his religious faith and the excesses of bohemian life.  In 1909 he converted to Christianity and in 1915 he became a Catholic.  Picasso used him in modelling for the Three Musicians, though, to be honest, I can’t see any likeness here.  Modigliani painted several portraits of him and Poulenc, the composer, set several of Jacob’s works to music.  Jean Moulin, the leader of the French Resistance, used the name Max as his code name.

Portrait of Jacob by Modigliani

In 1944, the Gestapo arrested members of Jacob’s family, deported them to Auschwitz  where they were murdered on arrival.  Despite Jacob being a Christian, he was arrested as well.  He was suffering from bronchial pneumonia and his health was failing.  He was interned at Drancy, the transition camp near Paris, and he died two days before being deported.

 © Will van der Walt

www.willwilltravel.wordpress.com

Les Semboules, Antibes

February, 2019

 

Sources

Wikipedia Max Jacob

Poetry :  Open Letter Monthly. Translations: Gabbert, Rooney

 

Images

My photograph

Wikipedia Max Jacob

Modigliani portrait

Picasso portrait

 

Two poems by Max Jacob

Poem of the Moon

There are on the night sky three mushrooms, which are the moon. As abruptly as sings the cuckoo from a clock, they rearrange themselves each month at midnight. There are in the garden some rare flowers which are little men at rest that wake up every morning. There is in my dark room a luminous shuttle that roves, then two … phosphorescent aerostats, they’re the reflections of a mirror. There is in my head a bee that talks.

Stop, Comrade!

— Stop, comrade, I’m afraid, stop! Between the trees on the hill, the tilted trees on the hill, I saw an eye, if this eye was not a cloud. It fixes me, disturbs me; stop! It follows our steps on the road, if this eye is not a cloud.

 

Portrait of Jacob by Picasso