K-pop, K-beauty, the films of Bong Joon Ho; for the past few years, South Korea has been having a main character moment. The Korean Wave (or hallyu) has already been the subject of a major V&A exhibition in recent years, and is no doubt the inspiration for the British Museum’s new show all about the peninsula.
Spanning 2,000 years, from the Bronze Age to the 2010s, Korea is the first major exhibition on Korea’s art and history at the British Museum in over 40 years. Mainly focusing on art and crafts, Korea documents the development of ideas from 300BC up to today. It begins with the golden age of Buddhism during the Goryeo Dynasty (918 – 1392 AD) and takes us right up to the present day, via the Neo-Confucian ideals of the Joseon period (1392 – 1910), and the Korean War in the 1950s.
Of course, there are many stunning objects to be seen here, including more than a few treasures not usually seen outside of South Korea. Much of the display comes from the collection of Lee Kun-Hee, the late chairman of Samsung (also the exhibition’s corporate partner). Other bits are loaned from the National Museum of Korea and the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, Korea.
The olden days stuff is classic British Museum fodder, with many a beautiful ceramic, chonky piece of jewellery and stunning silk painting on display. An enormous and intricate bronze temple bell from 900 AD bulges with carvings of dragons and plants. Orb-like moon jars are mesmeric in their simplicity, their ghostly blue-white exteriors gleaming under the lights. The majestic Sun, Moon, and Five Peaks silk panel painting depicts bold red trees, rolling waves, cascading waterfalls and awesome mountains.
Orb-like moon jars are mesmeric in their simplicity
Older artefacts are interspersed with more modern artworks, but these pieces are not as exciting as a charmingly goofy painting of a tiger – its eyes bulging unnaturally – from 1800, or a detailed sculpture of a flaming lion from 1600-1700, painted in red and blue and symbolising the Buddhist teaching of the ‘lion’s roar’.
In terms of present-day objects, there’s really not much to get stuck into. The exhibition’s finale is a bit of a damp squib. There are some great modern artworks – Nam June Paik’s multimedia sculpture Brahms is an exhilarating mishmash of neon musical notes, instruments and tv screens showing naked women, but why is this being shown here and now? And what’s it got to do with the highly political Shin Hal Chul oil painting displayed next to it?
As for the suffering inflicted upon the country during Japan’s occupation and the country’s division, it’s barely touched upon. The Korean War is mentioned but no details are given. Some dark artworks that show responses to the hardships, including Lee Jung-seob’s bleak etchings of bodies bound by ropes made on cigarette packet foil when materials were scarce. But what could have been a rich opportunity to dive into North and South Korea’s fascinating, and painful, histories, is squandered.
Going back to the Korean Wave, there’s barely a mention of South Korea’s vastly influential contemporary culture (where are the references to KPop Demon Hunters, Squid Game and Medicube?) other than some vague generalities about Korean creativity resonating with audiences worldwide today. Korea works well when it's showing British audiences cool, ancient artefacts rarely seen on UK soil, but its claim to teach visitors 2,000 years’ worth of Korean history is a tall tale.
I can understand why the British Museum would want to tap into a current trend, but given the overwhelming recent success of the Bayeux Tapestry – a classic, no-frills show that is the museum’s bread and butter – perhaps it should leave the zeitgeisty moments to the likes of the V&A and stick to what it does best: proper, good history.
