Today’s hike was Bukhansan, the mother of all the mountains in Seoul.
This is mountain #44 for me. I’m so close to finishing this project, I can almost feel the Korean sauna I’m going to head to right afterwards. Hwaiting!
Each year, Eumseong, a city in Chungcheongbuk-do, South Korea, holds a Pumba Festival. (Fun fact: this is where United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon is from.) “Pumba,” which doesn’t relate to The Lion King ( you will hear this joke ad nauseum from the expat community), means “beggar” or “vagabond.” Historically, back when Korea was poor, pumbas would roam the country.
As with most festivals in Korea, there is a parade with people dressed in very colorful, almost clown-like outfits, with their faces painted. There were gakseori, people who perform traditional dances and play musical instruments. There was also a “beggar opera” in an open-air auditorium that was packed with people.
In the beginning, I confess I had misgivings, because having lived in and visited developing countries and impoverished areas, I had no inclination to “celebrate” poverty. But during the festival, I realized that it was really more of a joyful occasion that got everyone in the province together, young and old alike. And like most festivals in Korea, it has to hearken back to something historic. As South Korea is one of the most developed countries in the world, this is a tradition that to me resembles a cross between a mime festival and Mardi Gras. In a country that celebrates perfect porcelain skin, it was refreshing to see brightly colored faces.
Also, as a modern “vagabond” myself, I do kind of relate to this idea of moving around and having to entertain people and struggling to survive.
If anything, the most unsettling part of the experience was this army of ajusshi and some ajumma who were decked in hiking gear and DSLR cameras, taking photos of the costumed people who were mostly foreigners like me. Apparently, there was a 1-million won prize for the best photograph. And so we were followed by paparrajusshi all afternoon.
They could get quite aggressive and would dive in the strangest positions that I believe yielded the most unflattering shots. I mean, come on.
And so I wanted to turn the tables and took a lot of photos of them. Like so.
I didn’t really mind, since most were friendly. However, I only posed for one. An ajumma. I don’t get the impression that women here have a lot of rights. I hope she wins the million won.
In Rolling! an ongoing exhibition about visual art in Taiwan at the Seoul Museum of Art, this piece was impossible to miss. In Barbarians Celestine: The Monuments with the Sacrifices of the Faunas, the Yao Ruei-chung reflects on Taiwan’s consumer culture and materialism, using images of Taiwanese civil ceremonies.
I love art with layers of meaning, and even more, a golden headless dinosaur. A golden headless dinosaur!
When you fall off a horse, the best thing to do is to get back on again. Yesterday, I hiked the mighty Gwanaksan in the south of Seoul. Along the way, I saw these awesome jangseung, or Korean totem poles with very expressive faces.
I smiled when one reminded me of a Y chromosome.
It’s caterpillar season, and there were plenty of them on totem poles, rocks, or hanging from a tree.
Yesterday, I hiked Suraksan, my 27th mountain in Seoul. Like an idiot, I miscalculated the time, and ended up speeding down the mountain to beat the sunset. The remaining 10% of my hike was pitch black, and because it was a rocky stream, I lost the trail, was close to sheer panic, and was even closer to concussions, sprains, and—I wince thinking about this—death.
I stumbled over dry leaves and through sharp branches. Thank goodness for GPS and the flashlight on my phone. But most of all, thank goodness it was Buddha’s birthday, because the temple at the end of my hike had these glowing paper lanterns, helping me find my way.
On the way down, I vividly remember passing by two ajusshi on separate occasions. They didn’t look like they cared about the time. I really hope they made it back.
I am extremely grateful for well-kept traditions, modern technology, and friends who would come over to give you ice cream and remind you to hike smarter. I have 10 more mountains to go, you know.
Happy birthday, Buddha. And many, many thanks.
Last May 5th, I gave an artist talk entitled Art, Science, and Interactivity at the Hangaram Art Museum in Seoul Arts Center for the International Sculpture Festa for a small audience. I and my friends from the National Art Studio were in the category “What Can Sculpture Be?” As an interactive artist, while some of my work can be classified as sculpture, I don’t really consider myself one in the most traditional sense of the word. Unlike most sculpture where Do Not Touch is written beside the piece, my work usually comes with a set of “experience instructions”—such as “Please Smell This Wall,” “Please wear this vest and hug someone,” etc. etc.
These are my notes and slides from the talk:
Art, Science, and Interactivity
Annyunghaseyo. My name is Catherine, and I’m an interactive artist from the Philippines. I come to you from three fields of study, and from three cities around the world. The first is science, where I studied molecular biology and biotechnology in Manila. The second is Barcelona, where I studied contemporary art and poetry. The third is New York City, where I lived for five years and did my MFA in Interaction Design at the School of Visual Arts.
Coming from many different worlds, I often asked myself what was the core of my interests? Finally, I realized that it was human perception. Our senses, or how we perceive the world. More specifically, I investigate perception and how it can bridge memory and play. The more aware we are of the world, the more we can explore and go beyond what we know, and the more we go beyond, the more we add to our storehouse of memories.
1. Sculpture can facilitate human connection
The Hug Vest
This is a vest made out of thermochromic fabric, so it changes color, from purple to blue when you touch it. For the past two years, I have been wearing this, and other versions of this vest, and hugging people with it. In these exhibitions, I invite people to hug me, and invite them to wear it and hug other people as well. Being able to tangibilize the hug through a color change seems to make hugging more fun, and gets people to touch more. What this project has taught me is that sculpture can facilitate human connection.
2. Sculpture can go beyond sight
An Olfactory Memoir of Three Cities
For the next project, I want to first show you this image. Who can tell me what was going on here?
Smell and memory are closely interlinked. In neuroscience, we learn that smell is processed in the region of the brain where memory is also processed. This explains why we can unearth deep-seated memories from decades back.
I’ve been doing experiments on olfaction, where I ask people to smell these pieces of paper with microencapsulated smells, so they’re very concentrated. Afterwards, I ask them what memory came to mind. The results were very surprising, because many of them recalled memories from a long time ago, as far back as twenty years.
I was inspired by the results, so I created an Olfactory Memoir of Three Cities I’ve lived in – Manila, New York and Barcelona.
It contains printed smells with my memory of the place. Of course, if you smelled this book, you have your own memories of the smell, and this creates a conversation among those perceiving art.
So from this project, I learned that sculpture can go beyond sight, which is the most overused and oversaturated sense, at least for us who are not visually impaired. With smell, sculpture can be remembered longer, and the memory of the art persists.
For this exhibition, there is a little wall of smells with twelve different smells on it, which you can sniff.
3. We can enable the audience to create his own experience with art.
Mondrian Hopscotch II
During my residency in Changdong, one question I wanted to explore was, Can you play with art?
So I created this hopscotch board in the style of Piet Mondrian, whose aesthetic is well-known and almost lends itself to the framework of a hopscotch board.
I believe that my primary audience is children, so I invited some elementary schoolkids near the studio to play with the art.

This taught me that sculpture can be played with, and in the course of playing, each person creates his own experience with art.
4. Sculpture can build communities
Seoul37
I’m in my fourth month of my residency here in Korea, and among the many things that fascinate me is this.

The hiking culture in Korea is truly mind-blowing to me, and has led me to investigate the people doing it—mostly your elderly, the economics behind it—the fashion industry from high end places such as the North Face to the cheaper ones like those in Dongdaemun markets, to the exercise machines I see.
Midway through my residency, I learned that there are 37 mountains in Seoul, and I decided to hike all of them. During each hike, I borrow a small jar of soil and track my hike with a smartphone app.
The goal here is to hike all 37, take soil, and for the next time I exhibit this piece, get the audience to plant using any mixture of soil from all these mountains. After the exhibition, I hope to get 37 volunteers to plant these flora back to all the mountains, thereby returning the soil to where it came from.
I’m interested in the idea of the earth giving me material, and instigating this human intervention that does something positive to a community and also to the earth. I’m also interested in doing a big project that is ephemeral. From this project, I see potential in sculpture that can help build communities, with consequences even after the exhibition.
Thanks very much.
Growing up on dragon and lion dances during Chinese New Year, I love looking at the often modern footwear of these traditional practices. During this year’s Lotus Lantern Festival in Seoul held the week before Buddha’s birthday, this dragon’s feet caught my eye:
Spot the colored ones in the middle!
This festival would be incomplete without lions frolicking about:
It’s post-exhibition at the International Sculpture Festa 2013 in Seoul. While installing my exhibit took hours, taking it down last Wednesday took a mere 30 minutes. Here was how it looked:
I exhibited four pieces:
1. Seoul37
This is the main project I’m doing in my residency at the National Art Studio in Korea. This country has quite a lot of mountains, and they have been its foundation. Despite Korea, especially Seoul, changing so much in the past centuries, these mountains have withstood the test of time. I became fascinated with them (there’s quite a strong hiking culture here), and, upon learning that there are 37 mountains (or hills) in Seoul, decided to hike them all. Yes, ALL. I track each hike with a smartphone app and borrow a jar of soil. During our exhibition here at the National Art Studio, I will invite people to plant using these soil samples I have collected, and will ask 37 volunteers to plant them back to the mountains.
I was about midway through the hikes, and exhibited 18 soil samples, with 19 empty jars to show the ones I still have to hike. (As of this writing, I have hiked 27 mountains and nearly died from two.) More information to follow, and no, I don’t usually exhibit things that are not finished, but here I wanted to ask for future participation. I’m very happy that Seoulites seem interested in signing up (I posted a sign-up sheet beside the piece and so many emails were written on it.)
2. The Smell Wall
I glued twelve squares of different smells on the wall and invited people to smell them. It looked almost invisible, but I suppose that’s the point.
3. Mondrian Hopscotch II
I made another interactive hopscotch board that would fit my exhibition space. I loved seeing people, especially children, jump on it. On May 5th, which was Children’s Day, it was incredibly rewarding seeing parents with their dressed-up children playing with it. Aww!
It’s quite fun having to write down instructions for every piece.
4. The Hug Vest
This is a vest made of thermochromic fabric that changes from purple to blue when you touch it. This feels a bit vintage to me now, since this was designed during my grad school years. However, people always get a kick out of seeing it change when it’s touched. Oh, the history this vest has had—from the nights in SVA IxD, to the conferences and lectures, to me using it on the streets of New York as protection from the cold that week when I was freezing and desperate, to being exhibited here in Seoul. This never gets old.
My friends were laughing at the phrase “willing volunteer.”
Very happy to have my friends there:
Fun times. Now back to work.