Published by the Gwangju International Center since 2001
To mark my fifth year stewarding the “Lost” column, I’d like to return to Gwangju proper, specifically Yang-dong. This month, I’ll scribble the pages of the Gwangju News with a tale involving hostess bars, North Korean collages, menacing graffiti, courteous cult invites, and a tenacious cat I call Achilles who, like Yang-dong itself, refuses to die despite all odds.
To kick off the new year, we’ll unshelve our trusty Farmers’ Almanac and put its sage guidance and folksy humor to good use in the pursuit of understanding Korea’s modern agricultural craze: sowing apartment complexes in the middle of nowhere. What could possibly go wrong? So, without further ado, let’s hop in the car and head to the countryside – oh, and feel free to ask any questions along the way…….
This month, we’ll trek to the extreme western edge of Jaeun-do, another of Sinan-gun’s many superb but under-visited islands. Jaeun-do has at least a half dozen sites and experiences of note I could talk about: the large, abandoned school complex that haunts the landscape, what Mariposa Resort was like back when I found it a burned-out derelict, the excellent hike to the peak of Dubong-san, dodging bats at the island’s decommissioned military site, discovering one-of-a-kind temple ruins amid a forest of bamboo, and two vast beaches that merge into an epic promontory scarcely anyone visits. For this article, we’ll focus just on the temple ruins and beach promontory.
For traditional Korean architecture, a structure is not just a structure. Depending on social class, there was a strict law regarding the structure of a house. This chapter will show you how each structure of Gwangju’s mass-produced hanok developed through the modern period and made its own unique style.
My involvement with the “Lost” column began this month back in 2018, and as much as I’d like to have a single, significant topic to cover, this fourth anniversary has fallen during a creative slump. As per tradition, whenever this happens, I’m left to cobble together a few half-baked ideas with little rhyme or reason to them. And so, here it is – an underwhelming medley of odds and (dead) ends that have been crowding my workspace these past few months.
The Hwajeong I-Park collapse is on another level.
“What they were also surprisingly keen on was decorating, as many rooms had unique wallpaper not seen in other cells.”
“My aim here is neither to extol nor vilify the Saemaul Movement, but rather to highlight its continued impact on the Korea we see today.”
