In Search of the Korean Fantastique: Part 1

(photo by Brocco Lee)

When I innocently began writing this post about some of my favourite artists back on Monday, I never knew that it would develop and transform to the extent that it did, ultimately morphing into something quite unexpected. Revealing what that is now would spoil the ultimate message I think, but I can say that as a result of writing it, I now look at life in Korea in a new and much more enchanting light than I did five days ago, and hopefully some of that new-found sense of mystique (and also carpe diem) will rub off on you too.

Unfortunately, having come to some realizations and conclusions as a result of writing, rather than having them before the writing process started like normal, the result was…well, a grand narrative. Which is all well and good, but from a blogger’s perspective it’s a nightmare, for it means that the chronological order must be stuck to, every part is essential, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and parts can not be readily broken down into separate posts that can be chopped and changed and rearranged. So while the original result was what I think is some of the best stuff I’ve written ever, albeit more for the ideas than for the eloquent prose, it ultimately came to about 5500 words, and the hour and half or so required to read it would have been just a bit too much to ask of readers. Hell, even I struggle to do the odd 3000 word post of mine in one sitting.

Despite appearances, I don’t think I could reduce the word count much more than I already have. And so, after about a day and a half of unsuccessfully grappling with this issue, I found myself relaxing by looking up rude words and sexual positions on Wikipedia instead. But then some chance link suddenly reminded me of a similar issue with easily the best fantasy book in the world: Imajica, by Clive Barker. Sold as a 825-page epic when I was given a copy in 1991, the publishers then decided that it was just too damn big, but Barker was adamant that there was nothing that could be cut. The compromise solution? He picked a random page something like 413 pages in, and henceforth it was sold in two volumes.

Following this example of the one of the greats, I too have accepted cruel reality, and, not counting this explanation, will present the original post in a series of three or four smaller ones of roughly 1500-1800 words each. That leaves me with posts that make no sense by themselves, and although this first one in particular is still interesting, I hope, it is (literally) far removed from the ultimate, majestic conclusion. But despite that, it does feel good to get things rolling again after five days, and sorry for the delay.

Intro/Copyright Issues

Last week, I wrote in passing that finding the Tokyo “online design magazine” PingMag had rekindled a fledgling interest of mine in Japanese pop-art, and, suitably inspired, that I would be putting up a post about it soon. But in truth, it simply reminded me of the pictures by artists Francisco Perez (a.k.a. pacman23) and brothers Michael and Cyprian Chomicki of Studio Qube that I have sitting on my hard drive, and that what I really wanted was the opportunity to talk about them. And so I originally began this post thus:

Although none of them are based in Japan or are of Japanese descent, or in Perez’s case even seem to have work with Japanese subjects, to my untrained eye all of their artwork (galleries here, and here) simply screams “Japan,” as do their favorite works of other artists (see here and here). Here are some examples:

(”oO Vic Oo” by Francisco Perez)

(”oO 123 Oo” by Francisco Perez)

(”Fade to Red” by StudioQube)

So far, so good. But then I hit a brick wall, because the deviantART picture-hosting site where I found their pictures is very amibigous about copyright issues. The first and third pictures above have a “download” option with them, so indeed download I did, and the second has a big ugly watermark across it, so I have no qualms about putting that one up too, especially as I’ve just shelled out…ahem…US$41 to have an unadorned 61×90cm print of it shipped to me from America (thinking it was a photo, my wife was quite angry at my choice at first!). But as for all the other pictures I’ve saved…?

Personally I think it’s pointless to consider copyright issues on a site that allows a simple right-click and save of images, whereas Flickr, for one, has a number of options for users to determine what viewers can do with their images, and if users are so inclined (and all too many are), then there are various devices on there that prevent all but the most computer-savvy viewers from saving images that are intended to be for display only (just try right-clicking and saving this cool one of Hachiko Crossing in Shibuya for instance). Korean portal sites like Naver have been doing something similar in recent months too (see this one of Lee Hyori for example), not allowing an increasing number of images found from image searches to be saved. Most of these “protected” images are from Korean blogs that normally you would need a password to view, so I sort of understand the rationale from the bloggers’ perspective, but then I can’t see the point of an image search which doesn’t allow you to save the images you find: what, pray, am I supposed to do with them once I find them?

Yes, maybe I should have rephrased that. In the meantime, I decided that I have no moral qualms about copying a freely-available image and using it on a non-commercial blog, provided that it isn’t altered and that it is attributed (ie, as if it had the most common creative common licence), but after debating that with my sister, who has quite a network and her own (not half bad) photos on deviantART herself, then I’m (reluctantly) going to respect her wishes not use images from the site here, however amateur I think its approach to copyright is. Naturally, that makes writing a decent post about the artists near-impossible, so I had to give up on my original plan. But this proved quite serendipitous in the end, because it made me realise that, well…although I plan to rectify this, at the moment I know too little about Japanese pop-art to write about the pictures anyway, at least something meaningful. What I am qualified to write about though, are the feelings and realisations about life in Korea and East Asia that the pictures (re)evoked in me. Admittedly not a very high bar, but still, regardless of however pretentious and/or full of typical 30-something angst the following section will may be, readers should be used to that from me by now.

My Cyberpunk Baggage

(Photo by bhophoto)

(Photo by shymita)

Like most expats here, the reasons I came to Korea pretty much boil down to a combination of sex, money, youthful rebellion, sex, exotic locations, sex and sex. But despite my priorities back then, I’ll wisely avoid discussing the sex aspect for now, and focus on Korea as an exotic location instead. Yes, really, because even the most jaded and cynical readers amongst you would at least once have found Korea to be an exotic and amazing place. Of course, by definition it was to all of us before we came, but that disguises a lot of what can be very personal and unique baggage. In my case, although I was largely unaware of him back then, mine was a vision of Korea that echoed that which William Gibson had always had of Japan.

He outlined that vision succinctly and very eloquently in a short article for Time magazine he wrote in 2001 entitled The Future Perfect: How did Japan become the favored default setting for so many cyberpunk writers?, and if you’re still reading this post by this stage, then I highly recommend taking a time out and spending the next 3 minutes reading it before you go. His historical argument is sweeping and generalistic, but basically true, and considering that most SF authors historical knowledge is a little lacking, gave me a new-found respect for his intelligence. I would quote it to save you the mouse click, but it reads awkwardly broken up, and is too long to quote in full. This alternate article from the 9 September, 2001 issue of Wired (interesting date) is also good though, and shorter and easier to work with:

Is Japan Still the Future?

That depends on which Japan you mean. Let us hope it’s not the prosaic one that lives in a decade’s grim headlines. Since the bust of the early 1990s, Japan’s financial levers have stopped working. Politicians have been rendered impotent by scandal and voter disillusionment, major banks humbled by the markets. Even in the splatter of America’s own burst bubble, Japan’s bottomless reservoir of bad news seems too dark a model for all but the most dyspeptic futurist.

But there is another Japan: Japan-as-metaphor. This is the Japan that represents hypermodernism in all its dimensions, from advanced technology to individual alienation to urbanization run amok. This stylized notion took root in the ’80s amid the country’s economic boom. It was a time when Japanese business models, money, and products seemed like irresistible forces. Neuromancer launched cyberpunk onto the streets of a future Japan “where you couldn’t see the lights of Tokyo for the glare of the television sky, not even the towering hologram logo of the Fuji Electric Company.” William Gibson’s imagined Japan was not the shiny future-perfect of yesterday’s world fairs, but instead a hard-edged tomorrow where giant conglomerates ruled and silico-, nano-, and bio- were the main denominations of value. Gibson’s message was that disruptive technology would bring with it disruptive social change. And it read like prophecy.

(Photo by bhophoto)

In hindsight, we know that although the cyberpunk vision anticipated many of the social pathologies that would emerge as Japan’s economy collapsed, it did not anticipate what has surfaced as a greater threat to Japan’s place in the future: irrelevance. The past 10 years have seen a depressing parade of disposable prime ministers, metastasizing concrete, and bankruptcy. And the last time we checked, there were no holograms over Tokyo. Yet it would be wrong to count Japan out just because the future is not what it used to be.

We persuaded William Gibson to go back to Tokyo to have another look. He found, to his own surprise, that his sense of Japan hurtling ever forward has subsided, only to be replaced with a new sense of permanent, yet well-tolerated, chaos. This, Gibson suggests, is the future for all of us. And furthermore, so what? Despite the fact that the country’s political and economic institutions lie in shambles, Japanese innovation and creativity continues unabated.

Two years ago, the notion that America’s future, then a glowing path of endless prosperity, had anything in common with Japan’s was risible. Today, post-Nasdaq, it is less so. Alan Greenspan is starting to feel the pain of his neutered Japanese counterparts. A controversial election cast a cloud over America’s political process, and an evaporating surplus is limiting government’s clout. Meanwhile, almost $5 trillion of national wealth simply disappeared. Our cyberpunk future has been put on an indefinite hold. But perhaps today’s Japan – the Japan beyond the dreary headlines – can reveal more about the shape of things to come than that shimmering vision ever did.

- by Chris Anderson

Admit it, remove the reference to Neuromancer, which every intelligent person knows was set in Japan, change the dates from early-1990s to 1997, switch the “Japan”s to ”Korea”s, and no-one would so much as raise an eyebrow if they read it in the Korea Herald tomorrow morning. Okay, the creativity may be a long shot, at least outside of the electronics industry, but the disruptive social change is spot on: it’s even more marked in Korea than Japan, and my interest in that social dynamism is, after all, what keeps this blog going. But actually this interest came well after I arrived, as did my reading and love of cyberpunk fiction and of the works of (to my mind) cyberpunk-influenced sociologists like Manuel Castells. Instead, what writing this post has made me realise is that the visions of Korea that I brought with me were largely derived from my love of, well, Trance music, or to be more precise the dance party scene and associated paraphernalia. I kid you not.

(Photo by Bjar9)

And on that note, I’ll jump straight into a discussion of Trance music tomorrow, which if you’ve read this far, I think you’ll still like and learn from even if you hate all forms of dance music (most of it is actually about popular culture). And for anyone still paying attention, I’m sorry that my plans for the blog in 2007 ultimately were delayed by about 6 weeks, but my series on developmental states will be coming after the big holiday from Feb 6-8. Not coincidentally, Manuel Castells mentioned above figures prominently in that.

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