Traditional handmade paper is threatened everywhere, particularly in Korea. Determined to recover from the devastation of the Korean War, South Korea is rebuilding at a phenomenal rate and the economy is booming. (2) Splitting the nation in two caused deep emotional and physical scars and the price of healing has sometimes involved the sacrifice of old and deeply rooted values and crafts. In Korea paper has been used as it has in the West for books, religious as well as secular, painting, and calligraphy. It has also had many less familiar uses. Traditional Korean houses were like paper cocoons. Thin white paper covered the walls and ceilings and was stretched across wooden lattices for windows. Furnaces heated pipes that ran under the floors. These ondol floors were covered with thick laminated paper oiled to a warm honey glow. For a people who sit, eat, and sleep on the floor, this arrangement far surpassed the cool elegance of Japanese tatami mats during long cold winters. In addition paper was used in making all sorts of chests, baskets, and wall decorations. Today, increasing numbers of Koreans live in new highrises furnished in western style. Even in the countryside where men still plow the rice fields with oxen and long lines of women cut and stack barley by hand, traditional paper houses are disappearing. A govenmnent modernization program has helped farmers replace thatch with bright new tiles, paper windows with textured plastic, and floor paper with linoleum. Paper has always been important in Buddhist and shaman ceremonies. White paper, folded into triangular hat forms, is placed on offerings of food at important birthdays or in times of mourning. Shamans use an extraordinary variety of cut paper in purifications and divinations. In the popular farmer's dance circling dancers rotate their heads to activate twelve foot long paper streamers attached to their hats. The dancers cartwheel around the circle with these spinning paper spirals, like mandalas within mandalas. With the overwhelming migration of people to the cities these old customs are falling into disuse and the traditional uses for handmade paper are diminishing. The small village papermakers are a threatened breed tucked away, when they still exist at all, in tiny pockets here and there. As in Japan, papermakers are often farmers who make paper during the winter slack time to supplement their income. As the market for paper shrinks, this is less and less true in both countries. One city, Chonju, does still have a flourishing paper industry. Factories here use heavily bleached recycled pulp to produce vast amounts of Japanese style paper for fans, calligraphy, and painting. This relatively low quality, modern product is the only handmade paper that most young Koreans are aware of. Against this background Kim Yeong Yon was truly an anomaly. He was born in the south of what is now South Korea during the Japanese occupation when Japanese language, culture, and technology were emphasized in the schools at the expense of Korean studies. After majoring in Chinese language and culture, Mr. Kim taught at Chosun University in Kwangju for twenty years and became the director of their library. From this perspective he began scouring used bookstores all over the country for old books and manuscripts. His amazement at their perfect preservation led to a fascination with the handmade paper they were printed on. Eventually he began to travel around to small paper mills learning about the work of the papermakers as well as their lives and their problems. He became concerned that their craft was threatened, and in particular he worried about their source of raw materials. Paper mulberry (Broussonetia papyrifera Vent.), called tak in Korean, kozo in Japanese, grows wild and is also cultivated in various parts of Korea as well as much of the rest of Asia. The best quality comes from the northern parts of its range, like Korea, since the slower growth of a colder climate results in paper with better strength, color, and sheen. Its harvest is highly labor intensive, however, with little reward for the farmer. Increasingly, cheaper and coarser mulberry is being imported from Thailand making it even more difficult for Koreans to economically justify growing tak for domestic and export markets. In 1972 Mr. Kim himself experimented with growing tak in three Korean provinces with little success. By 1980 seeing that tak growing and papermaking were endangered he began to record his observations from twenty-five years of travel and study in Korea. Although he never lost his love for classical literature, in 1968 Mr. Kim gave up teaching to establish his own papermill in Wonju, a small city in a mountainous province east of Seoul. Wonju had been a papermaking area for years known for its excellent water and good supply of tak. Mr. Kim started making paper using recycled pulp like many of the other local mills. He soon found this unsatisfying and began to revive the traditional, more time-consuming methods which had almost died out. Gradually his mill became known for producing a wide range of high quality paper in both Korean and Japanese styles. Korean and Japanese papermaking are closely related having grown out of the same Chinese tradition. The conventional date given for the invention of paper in China by Ts'ai Lun is 105 C.E., though there is evidence that paper was being made at least two hundred years before that. (3) Gradually knowledge of papermaking spread to Korea, then a part of China. Papermaking was closely tied to the transmission of Buddhism since prayer books were essential to buddhist worship. Korean monks brought Buddhism to Japan in 552 C.E. and in 610 C.E. a Korean monk named Doncho followed with knowledge of papermaking. Whether the technique he taught was the one used today in Korea and Japan, called yulmuljil in Korean, nagashizuki in Japanese, is a matter for debate. Mr. Kim and others believed the Koreans had developed this method sometime between 100 and 600 C.E. Although much of the history of Korean papermaking is sketchy or uncertain, what evidence there is shows that Korean paper was produced in quantity and that it was widely valued for its fine quality. Records show that quantities of paper were traded to China and Japan in the 6th and 7th century Silla period to be used for sails of ships. (4) In the Koryo period (935-1392) it was noted that seventeen million sheets of paper were produced to print 100 copies of a particular set of scriptures. (5) By the 15th century the demand for Korean paper was great enough to cause concern that the supplies of tak might be exhausted. (6) In the 18th century Korea was probably the world's largest producer of paper, although the introduction of machine-made paper in the 19th century led to a decline from which the craft has never recovered. (7) Korean paper was highly regarded in China and Japan and was requested by Chinese emperors as an item of tribute during the Koryo period. The Chinese valued this paper for painting, calligraphy, and for presentation to prestigious guests. (8) Korean were probably the first to color paper in the vat as well as to fabricate envelopes. (9) Japanese courtiers of the Heian period who were anxious to display their refined taste often used Korean paper for their correspondence. The Tale of the Genji, an 11th century novel about the intricate lives of the Japanese nobility mentions Prince Genji choosing a sheet of Kurumi-iro, a light blue Korean paper with a white ground. (10) Governments have had their influence on Korean paper. In the middle of the 12th century Korean government policy officially encouraged the cultivation of tak and an official office was set up to produce paper, much of which was exported to China. (11) Korean paper reached its low point during the Japanese occupation (1910-1945) when the Japanese government tried to undermine traditional Korean paper. In the 1930s Dard Hunter visited the Technical Institute in Seoul where he observed: "the Japanese have endeavored to teach the methods of Japan with the hope of supplanting the more ancient technique of Korea." (12) Despite a short revival of Korean papermaking following the occupation, the Korean War quickly put an end to any real recovery. The raw materials and fiber preparation for Korean and Japanese paper are very similar. In both countries tak or kozo is the fiber most used with some ampi (gampi in Japanese) and samjitak (Japanese mitsumata) also used. The inner bark of these plants is cooked in an alkali solution, rinsed in clear water, and then beaten, traditionally by hand but now usually by machine. In both countries the beaten pulp is added to the water in the vat along with a clear viscous solution from the root of a plant of the hibiscus family, which disperses the long fibers and slows drainage. In Korean this formation aid is called takpul, in Japanese tororo-aoi. In both countries the mold is repeatedly dipped in the vat causing many fine laminations to form on the mold's surface. Both the yulmuljil sheet forming method and the formation aid make it possible to couch thin, delicate yet strong, sheets one on top of the other without felts in between. In both countries a wooden mold supports a flexible bamboo screen. The real differences in technique occur in the sheet formation. These differences are belied by the sounds made by each method of formation. (13) Korean molds have no deckles to temporarily contain the fiber. Also, the Korean screen traditionally was not suspended at all. Two men, as observed by Dard Hunter, worked the screen together or one man balanced the far end of the mold on a log that was placed in the vat. Today, it is hung by a wire attached to the far end of the mold which hooks onto a horizontal support about one foot above the vat. (14) In the sheet formation the screen behaves like a swing with the metal hanger acting as one of the pivots and the papermaker the other. As the mold is dipped and rocked from side to side, pulp cascades off the screen. A Korean vat must be much larger than a Japanese, often up to two meters square, to accommodate the greater splash, and more beaten puplp is need to stock the vat. Indeed the whole Korean process is somewhat wild and dramatic compared to the Japanese. The orientation of the screen differs as well in Korean and Japanese papermaking. In making hanji, Korean-style paper, the screen is always in vertical orientation to the papermaker and the chain lines run lengthwise. Japanese screens, in contrast, are always held at a horizontal orientation to the papermaker, with the chain lines running across the width. This orientation helps make hanji extremely strong and allows one papermaker to handle a very large screen. (15) In making Korean paper, two thin sheets formed separately are often removed from the post together and dried as one. As there is no deckle this method is preferable to attempting to make one thick sheet directly on the screen. As many as four thin sheets are sometimes dried together in this manner for particularly heavy sheets. The only single layered paper is prayer paper burnt by buddhist worshippers to send prayers to heaven. Because alignment on the post of multiple sheets intended to be dried together is critical, novice papermakers often make the burning paper. In Korean papermaking, the fiber is not beaten down so finely as in Japanese and some impurities are tolerated. The faster Korean vat action tosses off most of these imperfections. In Korea, except at Mr. Kim's mill, chiritori, the tedious process of picking out bits of bark and discolored fiber so commonly seen in Japan, is not done. The Korean method of bleaching fiber varies. In most modern Korean mills the smell of chemical bleach is overwhelming. Mr. Kim washed his fiber for hours or days in running water, a technique similar to the Japanese stream bleaching. Fiber rinsed in this way retains a soft richness. Pressing and drying are basically the same for hanji and washi, Japanese-style paper. Because there are no felts between the sheets of wet paper on the post, extreme care must be taken in pressing them. The day's paper is usually allowed to drain naturally overnight. Traditionally rocks were then placed on a board set on top of the post. Most modern mills now use screw or hydraulic presses, carefullly regulating the pressure since improper pressing makes final separation of the sheets difficult or impossible. Once a major percentage of the water has been removed the pressed sheets are carefully pulled off the pack and brushed onto the dryer. The doubled Korean sheets are treated as one in this process. Today drying is usually done on heated metal surfaces rather than outdoor on wooden boards as was traditional. Most Korean papermakers today depend for their livelihood on making Japanese style paper to sell to Japan. Korean-made washi easily undersells generic washi in Japan and is a profitable export product for the Koreans. Mr. Kim once mentioned an 80 year old papermaker, designated by the government as a Living Treasure, who had said he could not eat if he made Korean paper. Mr. Kim's mill was run like a family operation with everyone motivated by love of fine paper. Unlike most mills in Korea, emphasis was on quality rather than quantity. The workers were all from the immediate neighborhood. The mill itself was a ramshackled affair, dark and cluttered. Everything except for the beautifully cared for molds and screens seemed to be held together by old nails and bailing wire. Two or three women did chiritori, one woman dried the paper, two men worked at the vats, and one man took care of boiling and beating the fiber, restocking the vats, and keeping the dryer fired up. (16) Though much of Mr. Kim's time was spent writing or taking care of the business end of things, he and his wife were in and out, an intimate part of everything that was going on. Mr. Kim made a wide variety of papers in both Korean and Japanese styles. About 80% of his output was sent to Japan and another 15% to the United States. At times he despaired about the lack of a Korean market. Koreans were only concerned about price, he said, unwilling to pay for the high quality he was committed to producing. One of his specialties was conservation paper sold largely to Kyoto museums. His storage room was stacked with heavy starched and glued paper for umbrellas, thinner starched and stamped paper for fans, naturally bleached paper for books and several varieties of p'i-ji paper, in which bits of bark are left in for decorative effect. He also made paper for shifu, a technique in which paper is spun and woven into cloth. (17) Mr. Kim's educated background made him uniquely suited to lobby the government on behalf of the tak growers and papermakers. He became spokesman for many people who found it difficult to speak for themselves. He felt that the economic and military ambitions of the Korean governnment left little impetus for thoughtful consideration of the needs of traditional artists and craftsmen. In the last decade of his life Mr. Kim travelled often to Japan and the United States sharing his knowledge of the Korean papermaking tradition. He made many good friends throughout the international paper community. His generosity in sharing his time, answering questions, sending off equipment and raw materials was legendary. Japan and Korea were getting tired, he said, and he hoped that the growing interest in paper in North America would keep the knowledge alive. Ultimately Mr. Kim was a patriot and a philosopher. He longed to see the revitalization of a strong Korean identity which could take pride in its own rich history and traditions. He was a gentle man so this was not a fierce, nationalistic ambition but an expression of the Korean tenacity which assured Korea's survival despite centuries of pressure from China and Japan. He had been working on a manuscript about Korean paper which he planned to publish on his own paper with numerous samples of historic paper he had collected over the years. He also dreamed that his mill might one day become a sort of museum for Korean papermaking. His diverse background gave him a particularly broad outlook. He had a deep belief that the value of a culture lay in its written records, its poetry and chronicles, for he was quite skeptical that a purely oral culture was truly a culture at all. Despite an intellectual bias he had a deep respect for the "proven inventiveness of the Korean hand craftsman" (18) and the body knowledge gained from years at the vat. Mr. Kim's death in the spring of 1985 was sudden and unexpected. The mill closed and for awhile it seemed that all his dreams had come to an end. Almost a year later his wife, Yoon Soon Hil, managed to get it working again. Her plans to keep the mill producing the same high quality paper are ambitious. Clutter has been removed from the workspace and a new lighter ceiling installed. Plans to publish his manuscript are underway as well. Mr. Kim's death sent shock waves through the community that knew his work, leaving a vacuum that will be hard to fill. With his family and friends anxious to see his work come to fruition, we can look forward to the publication of his book which will fill many gaps in our understanding of the history and technique of Korean papermaking.         NOTES:   Much of the information in the article is based on conversations with Kim Yeong Yon in May 1985 and on a taped translation of an article about him that appeared in the summer 1985 issue of Deep-Rooted Tree, a Korean magazine about the arts and culture.     1. I spent three weeks at Mr. Kim's mill in Wonju in May 1985 studying Korean papermaking. By some dreadful coincidence he died suddenly on the last day of my studies. 2. In the weeks I spent in Wonju, the new suburb where I stayed grew radically before my eyes. On rubble-strewn lots new shops were framed, cemented, tiled, and open for business in less than a week. Work went on about sixteen hours a day. When I was leaving I literally could not remember which buildings had been there when I arrived. 3. As of 1982, the earliest scientifically dated paper known was dated at 156 B.C.E. Cf. Making Paper, American Craft Council, New York, 1982. 4. Kim Yeong Yon, notes from IPC'83, International Paper Conference, Kyoto, Japan, February 18-21, 1983, p. 66. 5. Ibid., p. 42. 6. Yoshida Mitsukuni, notes from IPC'83, International Paper Conference, Kyoto, Japan, February 18-21, 1983, p. 16. 7. Kim Yeong Yon, op. cit., pp. 66-67. 8. Kim Yeong Yon, catalogue introduction for Contemporary Korean Paper Art, Central Washington University, Ellensburg, Washington, 1985. 9. Catalogue, The Dard Hunter Paper Museum, Appleton, Wisconsin, p. 16. 10. Noted by Harold Sault as appearing on p. 268 of the Waley translation. A "fine saffron-colored Korean paper" appears on p. 258 of the Seideensticker translation. 11. Yoshida Mitsukuni, op. cit., p. 16. 12. Dard Hunter, Papermaking, Dover Publications, New York, 1978, p. 90. 13. In Mr. Kim's mill the sounds of the man making Korean paper were like ocean waves crashing on the beach. In quiet intervals the other man making Japanese paper sounded like a gentle mountain lake lapping at the shore. 14. This innovation shows the influence of the Japanese occupation since all but the smallest Japanese molds are suspended from overhead bamboo springs. 15. Mr. Kim talked about this in connection with his theory that China and Korea had deeper cultures and so needed the biggest paper. He thought the horizontal orientation went with shallower culture and smaller paper. 16. During my weeks there, I felt I was being watched over by guardian angels. The men were always attuned to how I was doing, appearing from nowhere to prop up my sagging post or smooth the air bubbles out of it. 17. See Susan Byrd's article on shifu in Hand Papermaking, v. 1, no. 2 (Winter 1986), pp. 18-22. 18. Kim Yeong Yon, catalogue introduction for Contemporary Korean Paper Art, Central Washington University, Ellensburg, Washington, 1985.

‍