First we went to a Folk Village thirty kilometers south of Seoul to view historic crafts of Korea. Traditional homes from all time periods and regions of Korea have been relocated there and in each compound artists and craftspeople in original dress practice different crafts in the traditional ways. The papermaking area appeared as I had seen it in books. The papermakers cooked and rinsed the inner mulberry bark outside. They pulled sheets and dried them under a roofed room with partly open walls. Unfortunately, the day we visited, the papermaker was not there. His assistant was removing sheets from a post, previously pulled and pressed, and was brushing them up onto a row of double panels which leaned against each other. Heat from a wood fire passed through the triangular passage of panels. I had heard of a handmade paper mill and museum in Chon-Ju. When I checked further, I found it had closed earlier that spring to curb pollution of the river. For centuries the Chon-Ju area had been the center of Korean hand papermaking, but no more. Next, I lectured on Western-style papermaking at Kwon-Ju University. The professor who teaches papermaking there, Liu Jai-Koo, is a famous artist in South Korea. He spoke no English, but an excellent interpreter translated for me as I gave a slide lecture, showed samples, and answered questions. The students were very enthusiastic and interested in Western-style papermaking. Well over 100 students attended, some standing throughout the presentation. Once again, I saw no evidence of papermaking as papermaking classes were not in session when I visited. (Professor Liu's own studio was miles away and I had no opportunity to visit it.) My last chance to see Korean-style papermaking would be the high point of my trip. My liaison, Professor Se Don Shin, arranged for me to visit Yongdom (Spiritual Pond), a female papermaker who is also a Buddhist monk. She is internationally known for her paper, some of which has been used by the Library of Congress, for conservation purposes. Yongdom lives two hours from Seoul, in the mountains, in a very small, modest house with a small paper mill attached. When we arrived, two artists were already waiting at the house; they also had appointments with Yongdom. Soon, another artist came for an appointment. Yongdom's female assistant, also a monk, greeted us and told us Yongdom had been delayed in an accident. She arrived safely an hour later, just as it grew dark. The three waiting artists generously offered to let Dr. Shin and me meet with Yongdom first, as I had come the furthest. When her assistant invited us inside, we entered a small platformed room. The walls were covered in heavy, white handmade paper and were bare of ornament. Against one wall stood an altar with a tall gold Buddha; flowers, fruit, and books surrounded the figure. Yongdom sat on a cushion with her back to the altar; we sat on cushions facing her. She explained that she was all set up to demonstrate her papermaking for me, but now it was too late, too dark, and the other artists were waiting, as well. I sat in awe of Yongdom's quite presence for a few moments, but finally asked my questions, with Dr. Shin serving as my interpreter. Yongdom explained that she learned papermaking in her family and that she lived in a traditional papermaking region. She had been making paper for sixteen years and had had many apprentices. The apprenticeships were supposed to last three years, but not one apprentice had lasted the full duration, due to the gruelling, difficult life. She had been making paper to line the walls of Buddhist temples for many years, and two years earlier began to make art with her handmade paper. We looked at her work, and talked about natural colors of the paper and how to pigment with natural dyes. She had difficulty with fading colors due to the fugitive nature of the dyes. As I had done research on natural dyes as a graduate student, I realized her difficulties. We talked of chemical retention agents and mordants, and I offered to send her more information. Yongdom will soon exhibit her artwork. After a picture was taken of us together, she quietly left the room, with no prolonged thank-yous or goodbyes. The spiritual experience of meeting Yongdom moved both Professor Shin and me very much. By custom in Korea, where a monk has a shrine, people may come to stay there as a retreat; Professor Shin planned to return and I wish to go back as well. The serene countenance and joyful spirit of Yongdom have stayed with me as an example of her satisfaction with her chosen lifestyle. I feel very grateful for the extraordinary experience of meeting her. Earlier in our visit my liaison's assistant, Jae-Sik Ko, who does calligraphy and collects examples of old handmade paper, gave me a videotape on Korean hand papermaking. Because I did not have access to a video cassette player, I did not view the tape while in Korea. As we left for the airport, Jae-Sik Ko gave me a large package of old handmade paper from his collection and a mailing tube filled with contemporary handmade paper. His generosity left me speechless. When I finally watched the videotape, I realized it documented Yongdom making paper, the Folk Village papermaker, and scenes from Chon-Ju, the former papermaking center. All of the places where I had tried to see paper being made were here on tape, a permanent record of papermaking recently practiced in Korea, which I had been unable to observe in person. As I watched the videotape I finally observed the Korean process of making paper, which they call Han-gi. The Chinese developed papermaking, then taught it to the Koreans in the sixth century. They, in turn, taught it to the Japanese. This explains the many similarities between Korean and Japanese papermaking. Both the Koreans and Japanese use the mulberry tree as their fiber source and their fiber preparation is the same: steaming the bark, boiling, bleaching, cleaning, and beating of the inner bark. A root from a cultivated plant similar to hibiscus is soaked in water to yield a formation aid. Added to the slurry, it keeps the fibers in suspension, prevents clumping, and helps the fiber lie evenly so the sheets do not mat together. Despite similar pulp preparation, the Korean style of sheet formation is unique. In the Japanese style, the papermaker clamps a loose ribbed, bamboo screen into place in a wooden frame, permitting vigorous sloshing of the layers and tossing the wave. In the Korean style, the papermaker lays a bamboo screen on top of a wooden frame without anything holding it in place. The screen is approximately 24 by 40 inches, with the shortest side held closest to the papermaker, opposite of the Japanese style. This major difference in the screen and frame results in a major variation in technique. Yongdom and the Folk Village papermakers both work in the Korean fashion, but each with a slightly different technique. They use a much gentler action than the Japanese, forming the first layer in a direction primarily front to back and the subsequent layers side to side. Yongdom makes six to seven dips per sheet; the Folk Village papermaker shown in the video makes four pulls. Both gently toss the excess pulp off the side of the screen after each pull. Despite restrained motion in pulling the sheet, layering the pulp first vertically and then horizontally yields a very strong sheet. In contrast, Japanese-style sheet-forming uses a more swirling, back and forth agitation to interlock the fibers. Yongdom uses a parting string between couched layers and gently presses the sheets with large wooden blocks for weights. Sometimes she couches two sheets together for strength. Following pressing, she hangs the still damp sheets in the paper mill to finish drying. She then rolls them into bundles for storage and shipping. At the Folk Village, the papermaker rolls three to four hundred sheets individually with a rolling pin before pressing them under large stones, and then brushes them up onto heated boards to dry. Finally, the video shows a small hand papermaking factory in Korea where the sheets are being made using the Japanese-style. Seventy percent of Korean handmade paper is exported to Japan because of its fine quality and relatively low cost. Since returning home, I have built a frame for use with a bamboo screen. I find it very tricky to keep the screen on the frame because one holds the front of the frame and not the edge of the screen. It takes plenty of practice! Learning this technique has been a wonderful, challenging experience, and I plan to continue research in Korean papermaking. My thanks to Western Michigan University and Sookmyung University for the opportunity to visit Korea, and to Professor Se Don Shin and his assistant, Jae-Sik Ko, for their time and generous help. </div>

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