|
Good poets always have
Eyes that have grown on their own
Their eyes are infinitely pure and transparent as those of a squirrel
Like a dew drop itself
But they are also on our back
Like those of a salmon swimming upstream
They sense the abyss of the world
Hurling themselves into its open mouth at full speed
With a formidable power
How can we not empathize with them.
- Lee, Si-young, “The Eye of the Poet”
The word I translated here as “to empathize” is in fact more than that. “Gam-Eung,” composed of “to feel (gam)” and “to respond (eung),” it means that one’s mind and body spontaneously respond to something as certain feelings arise on encountering it. Although we occasionally come across something that evokes a strong empathy in us, we can neither explain exactly why such feelings rise in us nor depict the quality of those feelings in words. It could be a beautiful or awe-inspiring scene in nature, the face of a stranger, or an art work. This powerful experience exceeds any logical analysis. It belongs to the realm of sensibility rather than reason, the realm of percept not that of concept.
Empathy arises in our body. A certain vitality or aura is felt through the body. When this feeling is very strong, it can literally move us. This is an experience, not a logical understanding. One’s body must be alive to empathize but the object should be alive as well. A person in front of me is alive, and landscapes and things in nature are also alive in constant movement. How about the case of an art work? An art work is not alive in the sense of people or nature. Still, we do not hesitate to say that we empathize with a work of art. This is possible because of the unique power of art, the power to communicate feelings and emotions, impressions and experiences with us through the creation of forms and images, which impinge directly on our senses. This intrinsic power of art lies in the “logic of sensation,” the “logic of body.”
Xooang Choi’s sculptures evoke in us the sense of a physical encounter rather than looking or seeing something. The bodies he builds sometimes wear the most realistic skin, and sometimes display a surface on which rough touches of the hand remain. In either case, they all approach us in the most direct way. He knows that the most honest thing we have is the body. Symbolism of the body and the variations of senses that he created in his sculpture are the most poignant medium for us who are also bodies. He sees people who exist as bodies, and observes their objectified bodies reduced to functions in society. These bodies are tangible entities yet also invisible concepts. In between corporeality and intangible concept, elements of individuals and communities, the particular and the universal, the physical and the mental continue to emerge and disappear, constructing or deconstructing our identity. Through the keen observation and insight, Choi crosses between the inside and the outside of the body penetrating its surface. In the process of construction and assembling, deconstruction and reassembling, he formulates a method of understanding the world through the mysterious border called “body”. His works always move us on different levels. Those who encounter his sculpture are first deeply touched by the vividness and facticity of the human body. On a closer view, they would discover rich layers of metaphors and symbols attached to each body, and furthermore realize yet another context arising in the accumulation of various bodies. In his sculpture, a body takes off its own body and becomes an object, this unbodied object again becomes confined in materiality. In the perpetual repetition of this cycle, the visibility and the invisibility of the body coexist, interwoven in his sculpture. The body in Choi’s work is a simile yet also a metaphor, a process yet also a result.
Processing multi-layered stories of both reason and emotion at once just on a single encounter is made possible only through the transmission of senses from skin to skin, or through the “flesh” that a philosopher regarded as the “mass of the sensible.” Lines and colors in a painting, fragments of materials and forms in a sculpture, which are meaningless in themselves, are rendered by the artist to move us and even to convey unexpected meanings to us. This is made possible when an art work successfully imitates the mysterious principle of the body and the enigmatic laws of senses operating in the world. We experience the manifestation of this principle as a phenomenon through this “flesh” or "the mysterious tissue or matrix that underlies and gives rise to both the perceiver and the perceived as interdependent aspects of its spontaneous activity.” This philosopher who saw both our existence itself and its phenomenological manifestation as “flesh” also talked about the way how a painter shares his or her being with us. He says the act of painting is “lending his body to the world that the artist changes the world into paintings.”
Traces of mutual penetration between the subject and the object can be found in a painting facilitated by this process of lending one’s body to the world. Willing to throw one’s own body to the world, “only the painter is entitled to look at everything without being obliged to appraise what he sees.” For a painter every moment of facing an object and painting it involves throwing herself or himself towards it. However, Hyein Lee actually flings herself into an open-air site, into the time and space of strangers or into an old place of her own that is most familiar yet always changing. Walking by the river in Berlin at midnight, standing in the middle of a sunny field, her entire body becomes a transparent eye. Every aspect of the world she sees enters her. Transient feelings and sensations are recorded on the canvas as the world passes through her eyes to the mind, and travels from the mind to the hand, and again from the hand to the eyes in an endless circle. Sensations that she experienced while walking by the river or lying on the field, feeling the sunlight, soaking in rain and catching the wind are the most private and personal, yet also the universal that can be conveyed from senses to senses. Her canvas is too deep to be called a mirror that reflects the surface of the world, too broad to be called a frame that captures a scene of a moment. It is an open window through which her experiences of the magic of light and the mystery of senses are replayed as a moving image, not as stills. “Every painter recapitulates the history of painting in his or her own way.” Along with her own history of painting, Lee recapitulates the passage of time, the time to get to know something genuinely. What is condensed in her paining is the process that she gets to love something truly by knowing it, and to see something truly by loving it.
Our experience oscillates in between the abstract and the concrete. The artist who tries to represent his or her own feelings and emotions as an image moves back and forth in between concrete forms and abstract movements, trying to discover the path through which “sensation” can be transmitted directly, avoiding the detour and boredom of conveying a story. The power that enables the painter to express what is more profound than vision is “rhythm.” When this rhythm manifests itself on the auditory level, it appears as music, and when it manifests itself in the visual level, it appears as painting. The “logic of senses” is ultimately the relation between sensation and rhythm. It is resonance as well as empathy.
Sojung Jun has been exploring the state of artisans and artists who have mastered what the hand, the eye, and the ear knows through the body itself, questioning the essence that makes art what it is. Her journey has now extended to the investigation of the nature of synesthesia. She has perhaps intuited that every artistic act is ultimately connected to the basic rhythm that shakes the root of all senses. One kind of sense awakens another kind. In Jun’s video that shows the world of a piano tuner, sounds and colors are communicated through waves and vibrations, namely, the rhythm. This rhythm exists in sounds and colors, music and painting, and inside our body. In our everyday experience of senses, sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste are often intermingled and even become a ground for mutually expressing one another. The sour taste of lemon is sharp, and the sweetness of ice cream is soft. A high note on the violin might reminds someone of the fluttering of a yellow butterfly, and a low tone on the bass might make someone to feel the dark blue waves slowly approaching. While the piano tuner’s solitary world of sounds and the variations of all colors and shapes are entwined, the border between the ear and the eye becomes blurred. Immersed in this scene, we become the “body without organs.” The state of body before organic representation, that can be the eye, the ear, the nose or the skin. It is the body that sees, hears, smells and touches simultaneously. Jun’s quest for the secret of synesthesia might lead us to realize that the nature and the responsibility of art is to awaken the rhythm embedded in our body. The mechanism of how various senses are organically related in our body can be reconstructed in the form of art by those with the most insightful eye and the most creative mind.
The coexistence and mixing of senses are in fact a natural phenomenon arising in our organic body. The eye and the ear, the nose and the tongue are integrated in the neural network. It is in the conceptualization of language that the division among the senses is underscored. The ancient sages and poets had an insight into this holism of senses. A sage said that “the ears and the eyes are connected within, …. thus one should not listen with the ear but with the heart, one should not listen with the heart but listen with the qi.” East Asian artists pursued the integration of senses beyond merely recognizing the phenomenon of synesthesia. Words in their poems do not intend to explain or depict something, but to revive the experience of senses. The mind of an 20th century British painter who claimed that “the quavering upon a stop in music” and “the playing of light upon water” were the “same footsteps of nature” and the mind of a 11th century poet who sung that “the small stars clamor like gushing water” are not different.
This ancient poet said, “there are paintings in poems, and there are poems in paintings.” In the East Asian art tradition the principle of synesthesia and integration of senses constituted the core of the holistic approach to art. This is why poetry and painting were considered twins rather than disparate art forms. Poetry and painting for them were thought to compensate each other to evoke the same experience, rather than different forms for different purposes. Jinnie Seo expands this interplay between poetry and painting through her own visual language. Inspired by female poets of the Joseon Dynasty in recent years, she has been exploring their poetic words in which their experiences and imagination are crystallized. In the landscape of the mind that these poets unfolded in their poems centuries ago, fragments of senses gleaned both from imaginary places and real sites still shine through words. Seo empathizes with the mind of these poets through their words that evoke a new sensation. Beginning from a poetic fragment, she continues to compose her own poem of space. She creates a new landscape of here and now through gestures of colors and lines, surface and volume, formation and abstraction. In Seo’s space the border between forms and images is dismantled, and we wander around the pure space in between the realm of poetry and the scene of painting. A piece of sky witnessed by a poet sitting on a lofty pavilion by the sea two hundred years ago is delivered to us from sense to sense, still cherishing the insight of the poet passing through time captured in a poem.
It is said that we think in the language. However, many things we experience cannot be fully expressed by the logical language. This is one of the reasons why poetry exists, and why art exists. When an art work becomes a poetic word that expands endlessly, not a signifier indicating the signified, it can move us in the most genuine way. In this era when art is often busy justifying its own existence, in this place brimming with excessive meanings while empty signs are rampant everywhere, what is that we truly long for?
For the philosopher who inquired into the nature of the body and the essence of art, for the painter who desired to paint the experience of senses itself, for the poets who aspired to convey vivid impressions of life in their poems, the act of art is none other than the quest for existence. In Xooang Choi’s sculptures that merge the reality and the illusion of the body, in Hyein Lee’s paintings that capture the relationship between the self and the world arising each moment, in Sojung Jun’s journey in search of the root and the mystery of senses, in Jinnie Seo’s poem in space composed of gleaming impressions persevering through time, this quest continues. It is a question that is most private yet also most universal. They tried to understand the world by opening the self to the world and opening the world itself. What remains after obliterating the meaning, removing the concept, and erasing the language? The artist should make it visible to the eye, touchable to the hand, and audible to the ear, and let a new tale germinate from it. The artist should remind us of the old truth that knowledge or intelligence are not the only way to comprehend the world, for us who are born in flesh and blood.
Artists are poets who have the channel of light that connects the eye directly to the heart, the heart directly to the hand. When they approach us with their own logic of sensation woven with contemplations of the day and dreams of the night, how can we not empathize with them? As long as we have the bright eye that can see even when closed, and the heart beating on each fingertip.
1. Gilles Deleuze, Francis Bacon-Logique de la sensation, first published in France in 1981,
English translation, Francis Bacon-The Logic of Sensation, Continuum, 2003.
2. “la chair”: Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Le Visible et l’invisible (1968) and L'oeil et l'esprit (1961)
3. Merleau-Ponty, The Visible and the Invisible, translated by Alphonso Lingis,
Northwestern University Press, 1968, p. 136.
4. David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous: Perception and Language in a More-than Human World, Pantheon Books, New York, 1996, p. 66.
5. Merleau-Ponty, L'oeil de l'esprit, Paris: Gallimard, 1964, p. 16
6. Ibid., p. 14
7. Deleuze, Francis Bacon-The Logic of Sensation, p. 122.
8. Ryu, Han-jun(êäùÓñæ; 1732-1811), in his epilogue to Paintings Collected by Seoknong
9. Deleuze, Francis Bacon-The Logic of Sensation, p. 36
10. Ibid., p. 42
11. Ibid., p. 44-45.
12. Zhuangzi, “In the Human World”
13. Francis Bacon, The Advancement of Learning, Book 2, Chapter 5, Everyman Library ed., p. 87.
14. Su Shi, “Observing the Stars while Travelling at Night”
15. Su Shi, “Colophon to Wang Wei's 'Painting of the Rainy Landscape of Lantian’”
ÁÁÀº ½ÃÀεéÀº Ç×»ó
ÀÚ±â·ÎºÎÅÍ ³ª¿Â ´«À» °®°í ÀÖ´Ù
±× ´«Àº ´Ù¶÷ÁãÀÇ µÎ ´«Ã³·³ ÇѾøÀÌ ¸¼°í Åõ¸íÇÏ¿©
À̽½ ±× ÀÚüÀ̱⵵ ÇÏÁö¸¸
±Þ·ù¸¦ °Å½½·¯¿À¸£´Â ¿¬¾îÀÇ ±×°Íó·³
¿ì¸®ÀÇ µî¦¿¡µµ ºÙ¾î ÀÖ¾î
¼¼°èÀÇ ½É¿¬À» ¿¹°¨ÇÏ°í
±× ¾Æ°¡¸®¸¦ ÇâÇØ Àü¼Ó·ÂÀ¸·Î ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ´øÁú ÁÙµµ ¾Æ´Â
¹«¼¿î ÈûÀ» °®°í ÀÖ´Ù
¾îÂî ¿ì¸® °¨ÀÀÄ¡ ¾ÊÀ¸¸®¿À
À̽ÿµ, ¡¸½ÃÀÎÀÇ ´«¡¹
°¨ÀÀ?´À³¥ ‘°¨(Êï),’ ÀÀÇÒ ‘ÀÀ(ëë).’ ¾î¶°ÇÑ ´À³¦À» ¹Þ¾Æ ¸ö°ú ¸¶À½ÀÌ ÀúÀý·Î µû¶ó ¿òÁ÷ÀδٴÂ
¶æÀÌ´Ù. ¿Ö ±×·± ´À³¦ÀÌ ÀϾ´ÂÁö Á¤È®È÷ ¼³¸íÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø°í, ¶Ç ±× ´À³¦ÀÇ ¼Ó¼º ¶ÇÇÑ ¸»·Î Á¤È®È÷ Ç¥ÇöÇØ
³»±â ¾î·ÆÁö¸¸, ¿ì¸®´Â Á¾Á¾ °·ÄÇÑ °¨ÀÀÀ» ÀÏÀ¸Å°´Â ´ë»óµéÀ» ¸¸³ª°ï ÇÑ´Ù. ¾Æ¸§´ä°Å³ª °æÀ̷οî
ÀÚ¿¬ÀÇ ¸ð½ÀÀÏ ¼öµµ ÀÖ°í, óÀ½ º¸´Â ´©±º°¡ÀÇ ¾ó±¼ÀÏ ¼öµµ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ¿¹»óÄ¡ ¾Ê°Ô ¸¶ÁÖÄ¡°Ô µÈ ÇϳªÀÇ
¿¹¼ú ÀÛÇ°ÀÏ ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù. ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °¨ÀÀÀÇ °æÇèÀº ³í¸®ÀûÀ¸·Î ºÐ¼®µÉ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¹üÁÖ¸¦ ¹þ¾î³´Ù. À̼ºÀÌ
¾Æ´Ñ °¨¼ºÀÇ ¿µ¿ªÀ̸ç, °³³äÀÌ ¾Æ´Ñ Áö°¢ÀÇ ¿µ¿ªÀÌ´Ù.
°¨ÀÀÀº ¸öÀ» ¸Å°³·Î ÇÑ´Ù. ¾î¶°ÇÑ »ý±â ¶Ç´Â ±â¿îÀÌ ´ë»óÀ» ÅëÇØ ³ªÀÇ ¸öÀ¸·Î Àü´ÞµÇ´Â °Í,
ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °¨ÀÀÀÌ ¸Å¿ì °·ÄÇßÀ» ¶§ ¿ì¸®´Â ±×°ÍÀ» °¨µ¿À» ³Ñ¾î ÀüÀ²À̶ó Ç¥ÇöÇϱ⵵ ÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ°ÍÀº
ÀÌ·ÐÀûÀÎ ÀÌÇØ°¡ ¾Æ´Ñ ÇǺηΠ´À³¢´Â Çö»óÀû °æÇèÀÌ´Ù. °¨ÀÀÀÌ ÀϾ±â À§Çؼ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¸öÀÌ
»ì¾ÆÀÖ¾î¾ß ÇÔÀº ´ç¿¬ÇÑ °ÍÀÌÁö¸¸, ±× ´ë»ó ¶ÇÇÑ »ý¸íÀÌ ±êµç °ÍÀ̾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ³» ¾ÕÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷ÀÇ
Á¸Àç°¡ ±×·¯ÇÏ°í, ÀÚ¿¬ÀÇ Ç³°æÀ̳ª °æ¹° ¶ÇÇÑ »ì¾Æ ¿òÁ÷ÀÌ´Â Á¸ÀçÀÌ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¿¹¼ú ÀÛÇ°ÀÇ °æ¿ì´Â
¾î¶°ÇÑ°¡? ÇϳªÀÇ ÀÛÇ°Àº »ç¶÷À̳ª ÀÚ¿¬¹°Ã³·³ »ì¾ÆÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï´Ù. ±×·³¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸ÇÏ°í ¿ì¸®´Â ¿¹¼ú
ÀÛÇ°¿¡ ´ëÇØ °¨ÀÀÇÑ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ÁÖÀúÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº ¿¹¼úÀÌ °¡Áø °íÀ¯ÇÑ Èû, ¸¸µé¾îÁø
ÇüÅÂ¿Í À̹ÌÁö ¼Ó¿¡ ±â¿î°ú Á¤¼, Àλó°ú °æÇèÀ» ´ã¾Æ³»¾î ¿ì¸®¿Í ¼ÒÅëÇÏ´Â Èû, °¨°¢ÀÇ ¹®À» Á÷Á¢
µÎµå¸®´Â °·ÄÇÑ ÈûÀÌ Àֱ⿡ °¡´ÉÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú °íÀ¯ÀÇ ÈûÀÌ ±Ù°ÅÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ‘°¨°¢ÀÇ ³í¸®’ 1 ÀÌÀÚ ‘¸öÀÇ ³í¸®’ÀÌ´Ù.
ÃÖ¼ö¾ÓÀÇ Á¶°¢µéÀº ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô º»´Ù´Â Àνĺ¸´Ù ¸öÀ¸·Î ¸¸³´Ù´Â ´À³¦À» ºÒ·¯ÀÏÀ¸Å²´Ù.
±×°¡ ¸¸µé¾î ³»´Â ¸öµéÀº ±Ø»ç½ÇÀûÀÎ ÇǺθ¦ ÀԱ⵵ ÇÏ°í, °ÅÄ£ ¼ÕÀÚ±¹ÀÇ ÈçÀûÀÌ ³²°ÜÁø Ç¥¸éÀ» º¸¿©Áֱ⵵
ÇÏÁö¸¸, Ç×»ó Áö±ØÈ÷ Á÷Á¢ÀûÀÎ ¹æ½ÄÀ¸·Î ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ´Ù°¡¿Â´Ù. ±×´Â ¿ì¸®°¡ °¡Áø ¸öÀÌ¾ß ¸»·Î °¡Àå
¼ÖÁ÷ÇÑ °ÍÀÓÀ» ¾Ë°í ÀÖ´Ù. ±×°¡ Á¶°¢À» ÅëÇØ Ã¢Á¶ÇØ ³»´Â ¸öÀÇ »ó¡°ú °¨°¢ÀÇ º¯ÁÖ´Â ½º½º·Î ¸öÀ» °¡Áø
¿ì¸®µé¿¡°Ô °¡Àå °·ÄÇÑ ¸Å°³°¡ µÈ´Ù. ±×´Â ¸öÀ¸·Î Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀ» ÀÀ½ÃÇÑ´Ù, ±×¸®°í »çȸ ¼Ó¿¡¼
±â´ÉÇÏ´Â ´ë»óÈµÈ ¸öµéÀ» ¹Ù¶óº»´Ù. ±×°¡ ¹Ù¶óº¸´Â ¸öÀº ½ÇüÀÎ µ¿½Ã¿¡ ¸öÀ̶ó´Â °³³äÀÌ´Ù. ±× ½Çü¿Í
°³³ä »çÀÌ¿¡¼ °³Àΰú Áý´Ü, Ư¼ö¿Í ÀϹÝ, ¹°Áú°ú Á¤½ÅÀÇ ¿ä¼ÒµéÀÌ ²÷ÀÓ¾øÀÌ ¸í¸êÇÏ¸ç ¿ì¸®ÀÇ Á¤Ã¼¼ºÀ»
¸¸µé¾î°¡°Å³ª Áö¿ö ³ª°£´Ù. ÃÖ¼ö¾ÓÀº ÀÛ°¡ÀÇ ºñ¹üÇÑ °üÂû°ú ÅëÂû·Î ¸öÀÇ ¾È°ú ¹ÛÀ» ³Ñ³ªµé°í, °Ñ°ú
¼ÓÀ» ²ç¶Õ´Â´Ù. âÁ¶¿Í Á¶ÇÕ, ÇØü¿Í ÀçÁ¶ÇÕÀ» °ÅÄ¡¸ç ¸öÀ̶ó´Â °æ°è¸¦ ÅëÇØ ¼¼»óÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏ´Â ¹æ¹ýÀ»
±¸ÃàÇØ ³ª°£´Ù. ±×ÀÇ ÀÛ¾÷Àº Ç×»ó ¿©·¯ ÃþÀ§ÀÇ °¨µ¿À» À̲ø¾î ³½´Ù. ±×ÀÇ Á¶°¢°ú óÀ½ ¸¶ÁÖÄ£ ¿ì¸®´Â
±×°¡ ºú¾î³½ ÀÎüÀÇ »ý»ýÇÔ°ú Áø¼ÖÇÔ¿¡ ±íÀº Åë·ÄÇÔÀ» ´À³¤´Ù. ¶ÇÇÑ ÀÌµé ¸ö ¼Ó¿¡¼ dzºÎÇÑ ºñÀ¯¿Í
»ó¡À» ¹ß°ßÇϸç, ´Ù¾çÇÑ ¸öµéÀÌ ¸ð¿© »ý¼ºÇÏ´Â ¶Ç ´Ù¸¥ ¸Æ¶ôµéÀ» ÀÐ°Ô µÈ´Ù. ±×ÀÇ Á¶°¢ ¼Ó¿¡¼ ÇϳªÀÇ
¸öÀº ¿ø·¡ÀÇ ¸öÀ» ¹þ°í »ç¹°ÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù°¡, ¶Ç ´Ù½Ã »õ·Î¿î ¿ÊÀ» ÀÔÀº ¸öÀÌ µÇ±â¸¦ ¹Ýº¹ÇÑ´Ù. ¹°ÁúÀ»
¹þ¾î³ ¸öÀÌ ´Ù½Ã±Ý ¹°Áú ¼Ó¿¡ °¤È÷´Â ¹«ÇÑÀÇ °úÁ¤ÀÌ Áö¼ÓµÈ´Ù. ¸öÀÇ °¡½Ã¼º°ú ºÒ°¡½Ã¼ºÀÌ µÚ¾ôÇô
°øÁ¸ÇÏ´Â ±×ÀÇ ÀÛÇ° ¼Ó¿¡¼ ¸öÀº ÀºÀ¯ÀÌÀÚ Á÷À¯À̸ç, ¸ÅüÀÌÀÚ °á°ú¹°ÀÌ´Ù.
ÀÌó·³ ÇÑ ¼ø°£ÀÇ ¸¸³²À» ÅëÇØ °¨¼º°ú À̼ºÀÇ º¹Àâ´Ù´ÜÇÑ À̾߱⸦ Åë°·Î °æÇèÇÏ´Â °Í.
±×°ÍÀº »ì°ú »ìÀÇ ºÎµúħÀ» ÅëÇÑ °¨°¢ÀÇ Àü´Þ·Î½á °¡´ÉÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÇÑ Ã¶ÇÐÀÚ°¡ ¸»Çß´ø “°¨°¢ µ¢¾î¸®” 2 ·Î¼ÀÇ “»ì flesh” 3 ¸»ÀÌ´Ù. ±× ÀÚü·Î¼´Â ¹«ÀǹÌÇÑ È¸È ¼ÓÀÇ ¼±À̳ª »ö, Á¶°¢ÀÇ ±¸¼º ¿ä¼ÒÀÎ ¹°ÁúÀÇ
ÆÄÆí°ú ÇüŵéÀÌ ¿ì¸®·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý °¨Èï, ´õ ³ª¾Æ°¡ ¶æ¹ÛÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ ºÒ·¯ÀÏÀ¸Å°°Ô ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº, ÀÌ ¿¹¼ú
ÀÛÇ°µéÀÌ ¼¼°è ¼Ó¿¡¼ ¿òÁ÷ÀÌ´Â ¿ì¸® ¸öÀÇ ½Åºñ·Î¿î ¿ø¸®, ¼ö¼ö²²³¢¿Íµµ °°Àº °¨°¢ÀÇ ÀÛµ¿ ¿ø¸®¸¦
¸ð¹æÇϱ⠶§¹®ÀÏ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸®´Â “Áö°¢ÇÏ´Â ÀÚ¿Í Áö°¢µÇ´Â ´ë»ó¿¡°Ô µ¿½Ã¿¡ ¹ß»ýÇÏ´Â
ºÒ°¡»çÀÇÇÑ Á¶Á÷ ¶Ç´Â ¸ÅÆ®¸¯½º” 4 ·Î¼ÀÇ “»ì”À» ÅëÇØ ÀÌ ¿ø¸®ÀÇ Çö»óÀû ÇöÇöÀ» °æÇèÇÑ´Ù. ¿ì¸®ÀÇ Á¸Àç
Àüü¸¦, Á¸Àç°¡ Çö»óÀ¸·Î µå·¯³ª´Â ¹æ½Ä ÀÚü¸¦ “»ì”À̶ó Ç¥ÇöÇÑ ÀÌ Ã¶ÇÐÀÚ´Â È°¡°¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ Á¸À縦
¿ì¸®¿Í ³ª´©´Â ¹æ½Ä¿¡ ´ëÇؼ ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸°´Ù´Â ÇàÀ§´Â È°¡ ½º½º·Î°¡ “ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¸öÀ» ¼¼°è¿¡
ºô·ÁÁÜÀ¸·Î½á ¼¼°è¸¦ ȸȷΠ¹Ù²Ù¾î ³»´Â °Í” 5 ÀÌ¶ó ¸»ÇÑ´Ù.
ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¸öÀ» ºô·ÁÁÜÀ¸·Î½á ź»ýµÈ È¸È ¼Ó¿¡´Â ÁÖü¿Í ´ë»ó °£ »óÈ£ ħÅõÀÇ ÈçÀûÀÌ °í½º¶õÈ÷
¹¯¾î ÀÖ´Ù. ¼¼»ó ÀÚü¿¡ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¸öÀ» ±â²¨ÀÌ ´øÁú ¼ö Àֱ⿡, “È°¡¸¸ÀÌ À¯ÀÏÇÏ°Ô ±× ¾î¶² Æò°¡ÀÇ Ã¥¹«µµ
¾øÀÌ ¸ðµç »ç¹°À» ¹Ù¶óº¼ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ±Ç¸®” 6 ¸¦ °¡Áú ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ´ë»óÀ» ¹Ù¶óº¸¸ç ±×¸²À» ±×¸®´Â ¸ðµç
¼ø°£ÀÌ ±×·¯ÇÒ Å×Áö¸¸, ÀÌÇýÀÎÀº ¸» ±×´ë·Î ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¸öÀ» »ì¾ÆÀÖ´Â ÇöÀå ¼ÓÀ¸·Î ³»´øÁø´Ù. ¶§·Î´Â ³¸¼±
ŸÀεéÀÇ ½Ã°£°ú °ø°£ ¼ÓÀ¸·Î, ¶§·Î´Â Áö±ØÈ÷ Àͼ÷ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¸Å¼ø°£ ²÷ÀÓ¾øÀÌ º¯ÈÇÏ´Â ±×³à¸¸ÀÇ ¿À·¡µÈ
Àå¼Ò ¼ÓÀ¸·Î. º£¸¦¸°ÀÇ ±ô±ôÇÑ ÀÚÁ¤ ¹«·ÆÀÇ °°¡¿¡¼, ÇÞºû °¡µæÇÑ µé³è ÇÑ °¡¿îµ¥¼, ±×³àÀÇ ¿Â ¸öÀº
Åõ¸íÇÑ ´«ÀÌ µÈ´Ù. ±×³à°¡ ¹Ù¶óº¸´Â ¼¼°è´Â ¿À·ÔÀÌ ÀڽŠ¼ÓÀ¸·Î µé¾î¿Â´Ù. ±×·¸°Ô È°¡ÀÇ ´«À» °ÅÃÄ
´Ù½Ã±Ý ¸¶À½¿¡¼ ¼ÕÀ¸·Î ¼Õ¿¡¼ ´«À¸·Î ²÷ÀÓ¾ø´Â ¼øȯÀ» ¹Ýº¹Çϸç, ´À³¦°ú °¨Á¤ÀÇ ÈçÀûµéÀÌ °í½º¶õÈ÷
ȸé À§¿¡ ±â·ÏµÈ´Ù. ±×³à°¡ °°¡¿Í µéÆÇÀ» °È°í, ºûÀ» ´À³¢°í, ºñ¿¡ Á¥°í, ¹Ù¶÷À» ¸ÂÀ¸¸ç °æÇèÇÑ
°¨°¢µéÀº Áö±ØÈ÷ ³»¹ÐÇÑ °³ÀÎÀÇ °ÍÀ̸鼵µ, °¨°¢¿¡¼ °¨°¢À¸·Î ÀüÇØÁú ¼ö ÀÖ´Â Àΰ£ º¸ÆíÀÇ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
ÀÌÇýÀÎÀÇ È¸éÀº ´ë»óÀÇ Ç¥¸éÀ» °í½º¶õÈ÷ ºñÃß´Â °Å¿ïÀ̶ó Çϱ⿡´Â ³Ê¹«µµ ±í°í, °íÁ¤µÈ dz°æÀ»
´ã¾Æ³»´Â ÇÁ·¹ÀÓÀ̶ó Çϱ⿡´Â ³Ê¹«µµ ³Ð´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº ¿¸° â¹®ÀÌ µÇ¾î ±×³à°¡ °æÇèÇÑ ºûÀÇ ¸¶¹ý,
°¨°¢ÀÇ ½Åºñ¸¦ ½ºÆ¿ÄÆÀÌ ¾Æ´Ñ »ì¾Æ ¿òÁ÷ÀÌ´Â À̹ÌÁö·Î ¸®Ç÷¹ÀÌ ÇÑ´Ù. “¸ðµç È°¡´Â °¢ÀÚÀÇ ¹æ½Ä´ë·Î
ȸÈÀÇ ¿ª»ç¸¦ ¿ä¾àÇÑ´Ù” 7 °í Çß´ø°¡. ±×³à´Â ±×¸² ¼Ó¿¡ ÀڽŸ¸ÀÇ È¸ÈÀÇ ¿ª»ç¿Í ÇÔ²², ¹«¾ð°¡¸¦
ÁøÁ¤À¸·Î ¾Ë¾Æ°¡±â À§ÇÑ ½Ã°£À» ¿ä¾àÇÑ´Ù. ¾Ë¾Ò±â¿¡ ÂüÀ¸·Î »ç¶ûÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú°í, »ç¶ûÇϱ⿡ ÂüÀ¸·Î
º¸¾Ò´ø ±× °úÁ¤À» ¾ÐÃàÇÑ´Ù. 8
¿ì¸®ÀÇ °æÇèÀº Ãß»óÀÇ ¿µ¿ª°ú Çü»óÀÇ ¿µ¿ª »çÀÌ¿¡¼ Áøµ¿ÇÑ´Ù. ¾î¶°ÇÑ ´ë»ó¿¡ ÀÇÇØ Ã˹ߵÈ
´À³¦°ú °¨Á¤À» ´Ù½Ã±Ý ÇϳªÀÇ À̹ÌÁö¸¦ ÅëÇØ ÀçÇöÇÏ´Â °úÁ¤¿¡¼ ÀÛ°¡´Â Çü»óÀÇ ±¸Ã¼¼º°ú Ãß»óÀÇ
¿îµ¿¼º »çÀ̸¦ ¿À°£´Ù. À̾߱⸦ ÅëÇØ ¿ìȸÇÏ´Â ¹ø°Å·Î¿òÀ» °ÅÄ¡Áö ¾Ê°í Á÷Á¢ÀûÀÎ ‘°¨°¢’ÀÇ Àü´ÞÀ»
ÀÌ·ç¾î ³»´Â ±æÀ» ãÀ¸·Á ÇÑ´Ù. 9 ÀÌ ±æÀ» °¡´ÉÄÉ ÇÏ´Â Èû, À̹ÌÁö ¼Ó¿¡ ½Ã°¢º¸´Ù ±¤¹üÀ§ÇÑ °¨°¢À» ´ãÀ»
¼ö ÀÖ°Ô ÇÏ´Â ÀÌ ÈûÀº ‘¸®µë’ÀÌ´Ù. ÀÌ ¸®µëÀº ½Ã°¢À̳ª û°¢º¸´Ù ´õ¿í ½ÉÃþÀûÀÎ °ÍÀ¸·Î ±×°ÍÀÌ Ã»°¢À¸·Î
³ªÅ¸³ª¸é À½¾ÇÀÌ µÇ°í, ½Ã°¢À¸·Î Ç¥ÇöµÇ¸é ȸȰ¡ µÇ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. “°¨°¢ÀÇ ³í¸®”´Â ´Ù¸§ ¾Æ´Ñ °¨°¢°ú
¸®µëÀÇ °ü°èÀÌ´Ù. 10 °¨ÀÀÀÌÀÚ °ð °ø¸íÀÌ´Ù.
Àü¼ÒÁ¤Àº ¼ÕÀÌ ¾Æ´Â °Í, ´«ÀÌ ¾Æ´Â °Í, ±Í°¡ ¾Æ´Â °ÍÀ» ¸ö¼Ò ±úÄ£ »ýÈ° ¼ÓÀÇ ÀåÀΰú ¾ÆƼ½ºÆ®ÀÇ
°æÁö¿¡ ´ëÇØ, Áï ¿¹¼úÀ» ¿¹¼ú·Î ¸¸µå´Â °ÍÀÇ º»Áú¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¹°À½À» ´øÁ®¿Ô´Ù. ±×³àÀÇ ¿©Á¤ÀÌ °ø°¨°¢ÀÇ
¿ø¸®¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Å½»öÀ¸·Î È®ÀåµÈ °ÍÀº, ¸öÀ» »ç¿ëÇÏ´Â ¸ðµç ¿¹¼úÀû ÇàÀ§µéÀÌ °á±¹ °¨°¢ÀÇ »Ñ¸®¸¦ Èçµå´Â
¿øÃÊÀû ¸®µë¿¡ ±Ù°ÅÇÏ°í ÀÖÀ½À» °¨ÁöÇ߱⠶§¹®ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ò±î. ÇϳªÀÇ °¨°¢Àº ¶Ç ´Ù¸¥ °¨°¢À» Àϱú¿î´Ù. ÇÑ
ÇǾƳë Á¶À²»çÀÇ ¼¼°è¸¦ ´ãÀº Àü¼ÒÁ¤ÀÇ ¿µ»ó ¼Ó¿¡¼ ¼Ò¸®¿Í »öä´Â °¨°¢ÀÇ ÆÄÀå°ú Áøµ¿À¸·Î ¼ÒÅëµÈ´Ù.
ÆÄÀå°ú Áøµ¿Àº ¸®µëÀÌ´Ù. ¼Ò¸®¿Í »ö±ò ¼Ó¿¡, À½¾Ç°ú È¸È ¼Ó¿¡, ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¸ö ¼Ó¿¡ Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â
¸®µëÀÌ´Ù. ÀÏ»óÀÇ °¨°¢Àû °æÇè ¼Ó¿¡¼, ½Ã°¢, û°¢, ÃË°¢, ÈÄ°¢°ú ¹Ì°¢Àº Á¾Á¾ µÚ¼¯À̰ųª ¼·Î¸¦
Ç¥ÇöÇÏ´Â ±Ù°Å°¡ µÇ±âµµ ÇÑ´Ù. ½Å ·¹¸óÀÇ ¸ÀÀº ³¯Ä«·Î¿ì¸ç, ¾ÆÀ̽ºÅ©¸²ÀÇ ´ÞÄÞÇÔÀº ºÎµå·´´Ù.
´©±º°¡¿¡°Ô ¹ÙÀ̿ø°ÀÇ ³ôÀº ¼±À²Àº ³ë¶õ ³ªºñÀÇ ÆÄ´ÚÀÓÀ¸·Î, º£À̽ºÀÇ ÁßÀúÀ½Àº õõÈ÷ ¹Ð·Á¿À´Â
£Ǫ¸¥ Æĵµ·Î ´Ù°¡¿À±âµµ ÇÑ´Ù. ÇǾƳë Á¶À²»çÀÇ °íµ¶ÇÑ ¼Ò¸®ÀÇ ¼¼°è¿Í »ö±ò°ú ÇüÅÂÀÇ º¯ÁÖ°¡
µÚ¼¯ÀÌ´Â °¡¿îµ¥ ´«°ú ±ÍÀÇ °æ°è´Â ¸ðÈ£ÇØÁø´Ù. ±× ¼ÓÀ¸·Î ¸ôÀÔµÈ ¿ì¸®´Â ‘±â°ü ¾ø´Â ¸ö’ 11 ÀÌ µÈ´Ù. ¾ÆÁ÷
ºÐȵÇÁö ¾ÊÀº »çÅÂÀÇ ¸ö, µû¶ó¼ ´«ÀÌ µÇ±âµµ, ±Í°¡ µÇ±âµµ, ÄÚ°¡ µÇ±âµµ, ÇǺΰ¡ µÇ±âµµ ÇÏ´Â ¸öÀÌ´Ù.
º¸´Â µ¿½Ã¿¡ µè°í, ³¿»õ ¸Ã´Â µ¿½Ã¿¡ ¸¸Áú ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¸öÀÌ´Ù. Àü¼ÒÁ¤ÀÇ °ø°¨°¢¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Å½±¸´Â ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¸ö¿¡
ÀÌ¹Ì È帣´Â ¸®µëÀ» Àϱú¿ì´Â °ÍÀÌ ¿¹¼úÀÓÀÇ º»ÁúÀÌÀÚ ¼ÒÀÓÀÓÀ» ¹àÈ÷°íÀÚ ÇÔÀÌ ¾Æ´Ò±î. °¨°¢µéÀÌ
À¯±âÀûÀ¸·Î ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¸ö ¾È¿¡¼ ±¸¼ºµÇ´Â ¸ÞÄ¿´ÏÁòÀ» âÁ¶Àû Á÷°üÀ» ÅëÇØ À籸ÃàÇØ ³¿À¸·Î½á.
°¨°¢ÀÇ ¼¯ÀÓ°ú °øÁ¸Àº »ç½Ç À¯±âÀûÀÎ ¸öÀ¸·Î Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ÀÚ¿¬½º·¯¿î °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ½Å°æ¸Á
¼Ó¿¡¼ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ´«°ú ±Í, ÄÚ¿Í ÀÔÀº ÅëÇյȴÙ. °¨°¢ÀÇ °æÇèÀÌ ¾ð¾î¸¦ ÅëÇØ °³³äÈ µÇ¾úÀ» ¶§ ¿ÀÈ÷·Á
ºÐ¸®¼ºÀÌ °Á¶µÇ°ï ÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °¨°¢ÀÇ ÅëÇÕ¼º¿¡ ´ëÇØ °í´ëÀÇ ÇöÀÚ¿Í ½ÃÀεéÀº ÀÌ¹Ì ÅëÂûÇÏ°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù.
“º¸°í µè´Â °ÍÀº ³»ºÎ¿¡¼ ¼·Î ÅëÇÏ´Ï, … ±Í·Î µèÁö ¸»°í ¸¶À½À¸·Î µè°í, ¸¶À½À¸·Î µèÁö ¸»·Î ±â·Î
µé¾î¶ó” 12 °í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. µ¿¾Æ½Ã¾ÆÀÇ ¿¹¼ú°¡µéÀº ‘°ø°¨°¢(ÍìÊïÊÆ)’¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀÎÁö¸¦ ³Ñ¾î¼, °¨°¢ÀÇ ¼ÒÅëÀ»
Àû±ØÀûÀ¸·Î ²ÒÇÏ´Â ‘Åë°¨(÷×Êï)’ÀÇ °æÁö¸¦ Ãß±¸Çß´Ù. À̵éÀÇ ½Ã(ãÌ) ¼Ó¿¡ »ç¿ëµÈ ¾ð¾î´Â °³³äÀÇ Àü´ÞÀÌ
¾Æ´Ï¶ó °¨°¢ÀÇ °æÇèÀ» ºÒ·¯ÀÏÀ¸Å°´Â °ÍÀ» ¸ñÇ¥·Î ÇÑ´Ù. “À½¾ÇÀÌ ¸ØÃá ÈÄÀÇ ¶³¸²”°ú “¹° À§¿¡ ¹Ý¦ÀÌ´Â
ºûÀÇ Èñ·Õ”À» ÀÚ¿¬ÀÇ µ¿ÀÏÇÑ ¹ßÀÚ±¹ÀÌ¶ó ¸»Çß´ø 20¼¼±â ¿µ±¹ È°¡ 13 ÀÇ ¸¶À½°ú “ÀÛÀº º°µéÀº ¼Ú±¸Ä¡´Â
¹°Ã³·³ ¶°µé¼®Çϳה¶ó°í ³ë·¡ÇÑ 11¼¼±â Áß±¹ ½ÃÀÎ 14 ÀÇ ¸¶À½Àº ´Ù¸£Áö ¾Ê´Ù.
ÀÌ ¿¾ ½ÃÀÎÀº “½Ã ¼Ó¿¡´Â ±×¸²ÀÌ ÀÖ°í, ±×¸² ¼Ó¿¡´Â ½Ã°¡ ÀÖ´Ù” 15 °í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. µ¿¾Æ½Ã¾Æ ¿¹¼úÀÇ
ÀüÅë ¼Ó¿¡¼ °ø°¨°¢°ú Åë°¨ÀÇ ¿ø¸®´Â ÀÏÂïÀÌ ÅëÇÕÀû ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÇÙ½ÉÀÌ µÇ¾î¿Ô´Ù. À̵éÀÌ°Ô ½Ã¿Í ±×¸²ÀÌ
»óÀÌÇÑ ¿¹¼ú Çü½ÄÀ̱⠺¸´Ù´Â ¸¶Ä¡ ½ÖµÕÀÌ ÇüÁ¦¿Í °°ÀÌ ¿©°ÜÁ³´ø ÀÌÀ¯ÀÌ´Ù. ½Ã¿Í ±×¸²Àº ¼·Î ´Ù¸¥
À̾߱⸦ ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, °°Àº °¨ÀÀÀ» ¾ß±âÇÏ´Â »óÈ£º¸¿ÏÀûÀÎ Çü½ÄÀ̾ú´Ù. Áö´Ï¼´Â ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ½Ã¿Í
±×¸²ÀÇ »óÈ£ÀÛ¿ëÀ» ±×³à¸¸ÀÇ ½Ã°¢ ¾ð¾î¸¦ ÅëÇØ È®Àå½ÃŲ´Ù. ÃÖ±Ù ¸î ³â°£ Á¶¼±½Ã´ë ¿©·ù½ÃÀεéÀÇ
½Ã·ÎºÎÅÍ ¿µ°¨À» ¹Þ¾Æ¿Â ±×³à´Â À̵éÀÌ ³²±ä ½Ã ¼Ó¿¡¼ °æÇè°ú »ó»óÀÇ °áÁ¤Ã¼·Î Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â ½Ã¾î(ãÌåÞ
)µéÀ» Ž»öÇÑ´Ù. ¸î ¹é ³â Àü À̵éÀÌ ½Ã ¼Ó¿¡ ÆîÃÄ ³»¾ú´ø À̾߱⠼ӿ¡´Â ¶§·Î´Â »ó»óÀÇ Ç³°æ ¼Ó¿¡¼,
¶§·Î´Â ½º½º·Î °æÇèÇß´ø ½ÇÁ¦ dz°æ ¼Ó¿¡¼ ±æ¾î ¿Ã¸° °¨°¢ÀÇ Æí¸°µéÀÌ ¹Ý¦ÀÌ°í ÀÖ´Ù. »õ·Î¿î °¨°¢À»
Àϱú¿ì´Â À̵éÀÇ ¾ð¾î¸¦ ÅëÇØ Áö´Ï¼´Â ½ÃÀεé°ú ¸¶À½À» ³ª´«´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÇϳªÀÇ ½Ã¿¡¼ Ãâ¹ßÇÑ »õ·Î¿î
°ø°£ÀÇ ½Ã¸¦ ½á ³»·Á°£´Ù. »öä¿Í ¼±, ÀÔü¿Í Æò¸é, Çü»ó°ú Ãß»óÀ» ¾Æ¿ì¸£´Â Á¦½ºÃ³¸¦ ÅëÇØ Áö±Ý ¿©±âÀÇ
»õ·Î¿î dz°æÀ» ±×·Á³½´Ù. Áö´Ï¼ÀÇ ÀÛÇ° ¼Ó¿¡¼ Çü»ó°ú ½É»óÀÇ °æ°è´Â Çã¹°¾îÁö°í, ±× ¼Ó¿¡¼ ¿ì¸®´Â
½Ã°æ(ãÌÌÑ)°ú È°æ(ûþÌÑ) »çÀÌÀÇ ¼ø¼öÇÑ °ø°£À» °Å´Ò°Ô µÈ´Ù. ÀÌ¹é ³â Àü ÇÑ ½ÃÀÎÀÌ ¹Ù´å°¡ Á¤ÀÚ¿¡ ¾É¾Æ
¹Ù¶óº¸¾Ò´ø ÇÏ´Ã ÇÑ Á¶°¢Àº, ½Ã°£ ¼Ó¿¡¼, ½Ã ¼Ó¿¡¼ Áö¼ÓµÇ´Â ½ÃÀÎÀÇ ÅëÂûÀ» ¸Ó±ÝÀº ä ´Ù½Ã±Ý
°¨°¢¿¡¼ °¨°¢À¸·Î ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ´Ù°¡¿Â´Ù.
ÈçÈ÷ »ý°¢Àº ¾ð¾î·Î ÀÌ·ç¾îÁø´Ù°í ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¿ì¸®°¡ °æÇèÇÏ´Â ¸¹Àº °ÍµéÀº ³í¸®Àû
¾ð¾î¿¡ °¤È÷±æ °ÅºÎÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ°ÍÀÌ ½Ã(ãÌ)°¡ Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â ÀÌÀ¯, ¿¹¼úÀÌ Á¸ÀçÇÏ´Â ÀÌÀ¯ Áß ÇϳªÀÌ´Ù. ÇϳªÀÇ
¿¹¼ú ÀÛÇ°Àº ±âÇ¥ ¾È¿¡ ´ã±ä ±âÀÇÀÇ Àü´ÞÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ¹«ÇÑÈ÷ È®ÀåÇÏ´Â ½Ã¾î(ãÌåÞ)ÀÇ Åº»ýÀÌ µÉ ¶§ °¡Àå Å«
°¨µ¿À» ÁØ´Ù. ¿¹¼úÀÌ ½º½º·Î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀæÀº º¯¸íÀ» ´Ã¾î³õ±âµµ ÇÏ´Â ÀÌ ½Ã´ë¿¡, ¿©±âÀú±â ¾ïÁö·Î ²Ù°Ü
³Ö¾îÁ® ³ÑÃijª´Â Àǹ̵é°ú ÅÖ ºó ±âÈ£µéÀÌ µÚ¼¯¿© ³¹«ÇÏ´Â ÀÌ°÷¿¡, ¿ì¸®°¡ ÁøÁ¤ °¥¸ÁÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº
¹«¾ùÀϱî.
¸öÀÇ º»Áú°ú ÇÔ²² ¿¹¼úÀÇ º»¼ºÀ» ¹°¾ú´ø öÇÐÀÚ¿¡°Ô, °¨°¢ ±× ÀÚü¸¦ ±×·Á³»°íÀÚ Çß´ø
È°¡¿¡°Ô, »î ¼ÓÀÇ »ý»ýÇÑ ÀλóÀ» ½Ã ¼Ó¿¡ ´ã¾Æ³»·Á´ø ½ÃÀε鿡°Ô ¿¹¼úÀÇ ÇàÀ§´Â Á¸Àç¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¹°À½°ú
´Ù¸£Áö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. ¸öÀÇ ½Çü¿Í Çã»óÀ» ¿«¾î³»´Â ÃÖ¼ö¾ÓÀÇ Á¶°¢ ¼Ó¿¡¼, ¸Å¼ø°£ »õ·Î¿î ¼¼»ó°úÀÇ °ü°è
¸ÎÀ½À» º¸¿©ÁÖ´Â ÀÌÇýÀÎÀÇ ±×¸² ¼Ó¿¡¼, °¨°¢ÀÇ »Ñ¸®¿Í ±× ½Åºñ¿¡ ´Ù°¡°¡´Â Àü¼ÒÁ¤ÀÇ ¿©Á¤ ¼Ó¿¡¼,
½Ã°£À» ³Ñ¾î Áö¼ÓµÇ´Â ÀλóÀÇ ´ÜÆíµé·Î ¾²¿©Áø Áö´Ï¼ÀÇ °ø°£ÀÇ ½Ã ¼Ó¿¡¼, ÀÌ ¹°À½Àº ¿©ÀüÈ÷
À¯È¿ÇÏ´Ù. Áö±ØÈ÷ °³ÀÎÀûÀ̸鼵µ ÇѾøÀÌ º¸ÆíÀûÀÎ ¹°À½. À̵éÀÌ Á¸À縦 ÀÌÇØÇÏ´Â ¹æ½ÄÀº “¼¼»óÀ» ÇâÇØ
¿¸²À¸·Î½á ¼¼»óÀ» ¿¾îÁ¥È÷´Â °Í”ÀÌ´Ù. 16 Àǹ̸¦ ´ú¾î³»°í, °³³äÀ» ¹þ°Ü³»°í, ¾ð¾î¸¦ Áö¿ö³½ ±× ÀÚ¸®¿¡
³²´Â °Í. ±×°ÍÀ» °í½º¶õÈ÷ ´«À¸·Î Á÷½ÃÇÏ°í, ¼ÕÀ¸·Î ¸¸Á®º¸°í, ±Í·Î µé¾îº¸°Ô ÇÏ´Â °Í. ±× ´À³¦À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ
»õ·Î¿î À̾߱Ⱑ ÇǾ ¼ö ÀÖ°Ô ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÇÇ¿Í »ì·Î ÅÂ¾î³ ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ¼¼»óÀ» ¾Ë¾Æ°¡´Â ¹æ½ÄÀº
Áö½Ä°ú ºÐ¼®¸¸ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó´Â ¿À·¡µÈ Áø½ÇÀ» »õ»ï½º·¹ ´øÁ®ÁÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
ÀÛ°¡µéÀ̶õ ´«¿¡¼ ¸¶À½À¸·Î ¸¶À½¿¡¼ ¼ÕÀ¸·Î °ð¹Ù·Î À̾îÁø ºûÀÇ Åë·Î¸¦ Áö´Ñ ½ÃÀεéÀÌ
¾Æ´Ï´ø°¡. ¼¼»ó¿¡ ½º½º·Î¸¦ ³»´øÁø ½ÃÀεéÀÌ ³·ÀÇ »ç»ö°ú ¹ãÀÇ ²ÞÀ¸·Î ¿«¾î ³½ ±×µé¸¸ÀÇ °¨°¢ÀÇ ³í¸®·Î
´Ù°¡¿Â´Ù¸é, ¾îÂî ¿ì¸® °¨ÀÀÄ¡ ¾ÊÀ¸¸®¿À. ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô °¨¾Æµµ º¸À̴ ȯÇÑ ´«°ú ¼Õ³¡¿¡¼ ¶Ù´Â ½ÉÀåÀÌ
»ì¾ÆÀÖ´Â ÇÑ.
1. Gilles Deleuze, Francis Bacon-Logique de la sensation, first published in France in 1981,
English translation, Francis Bacon-The Logic of Sensation, Continuum, 2003.
2. Merleau-Ponty, The Visible and the Invisible, translated by Alphonso Lingis,
Northwestern University Press, 1968, p. 136.
3. “la chair”: Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Le Visible et l’invisible (1968) and L'oeil et l'esprit (1961)
4. David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous: Perception and Language in a More-than Human World.
Pantheon Books, New York, 1996, p. 66.
5. Merleau-Ponty, L'oeil de l'esprit, Paris: Gallimard, 1964, p. 16
6. Ibid., p. 14
7.Deleuze, Francis Bacon-The Logic of Sensation, p. 122.
8. "ò±öÎêÓòØäñ, äñöÎêÓòØÊ×.” À¯ÇÑÁØ(êäùÓñæ; 1732-1811), ¡º¼®³óÈ¿ø(à´ÒÜûþê½)¡» ¹ß¹® Áß¿¡¼.
9. Deleuze, Francis Bacon-The Logic of Sensation, p. 36
10. Ibid., p. 42
11.Ibid., p. 44-45.
12.¡ºÀåÀÚ(íöí)¡» ¡¸Àΰ£¼¼(ìÑÊàá¦)¡¹, “Üýâßì¼ÙÍÒ®÷× …. å´ìéò¤, Ùíôéñýì¤ì¼ì»ôéñýì¤ãý, Ùíôéñýì¤ãýì»ôéñýì¤Ñ¨!”
13.Francis Bacon, The Advancement of Learning, Book 2, Chapter 5, Everyman Library ed., p. 87.
14.“á³àø×¢å´Ýó.” ¼Ò½Ä(áÌãÜ; 1037-1101), ¡¸¾ßÇà°ü¼º(å¨ú¼Îºàø)¡¹
15.“ãÌñéêó?, … ?ñéêóãÌ.” ¼Ò½Ä, ¡¸¼¸¶Èú³²Àü¿¬¿ìµµ(ßöؤýþÑüï£æÕéëÓñ)¡¹
Yoewool Kang
Philosophy of Art
2017
|
|