한국미술사를 영어로 쓰고 있(싶)다고 했는데 이것도 걍 대충 올려야겠다. 준비가 안된 것 같다고 너무 꽁꽁 싸매고 끙끙 대지말고
At first glance, the two images on these open pages appear to draw from the tradition of Munjado (文字圖, 문자도), the ideograph paintings of the Joseon dynasty. Yet something in their visual logic feels distinctly unconventional, suggesting a departure from orthodoxy toward a more abstract, even modernist sensibility.
Rather than adhering to the balanced symmetry and decorative restraint typical of classical Munjado, these works adopt a more assertive visual language. Thick black contours carve out space with graphic confidence, blocks of color interrupt the composition with bold contrasts, and the overall structure leans toward asymmetry, lending the images a restless, almost kinetic energy.
On the right-hand page, a two-story cheonggiwa—a traditional wooden building with blue-tiled roof—seems to perch improbably atop a single sweeping line of choseo(草書, 초서), the fluid cursive calligraphy. The effect is at once architectural and gestural, suggesting a deliberate fusion of form and stroke, structure and spontaneity.
Despite the surface textures that evoke the patina of age, the overall aesthetic feels deliberately hybrid. It could be a late 19th reinterpretation, or just as plausibly, a contemporary work that reimagines Confucian form through a modernist lens. Without attribution, one can only speculate—but the ambiguity is part of the intrigue.
On the left, the inscription reads: 「百世淸風夷濟之碑」. This classical Chinese phrase, rendered in a 4-4 rhythm, can be translated as “A stele commemorating the pure and upright conduct of Yi and Ji, passed down over a hundred generations.” The first half—百世淸風(in korean: Baekse Cheongpung/in chinese: Baishiqingfeng, in japanese: hyakuseiseifu)—literally means “the pure breeze of a hundred generations,” a metaphor for moral virtue that transcends time. Its origins trace back to the Zhou dynasty in ancient China, where the brothers Bo Yi and Shu Qi (known in Korean as 백이Baek Yi and 숙제Suk Je) refused to serve the conquering regime after the fall of the Shang(Yin) dynasty. Choosing self-imposed exile, they survived on wild plants(in korean: 고사리 gosari) and ultimately starved rather than compromise their principles.
The renowned Confucian philosopher Mencius revered them as “the purest among sages” (夷齊.聖之淸者), and their story became a cornerstone of moral discourse in East Asia. The line appears in the Mencius, Wan Zhang Xia(만장하), the second volume of the fifth chapter of Mengzi(맹자). I recall vividly from my year in traditional school, where I memorized the Sishu(사서) in its entirety through daily recitation. That rigorous training embedded these classical texts not only in memory but also in instinct, making the resonance of this stele's inscription all the more immediate.
In Korea, the brothers' legacy was especially admired during the Joseon dynasty, referenced by figures such as Prince Suyang(수양대군) In modern times, the independence activist An Jung-geun(안중근) invoked their names in calligraphy, underscoring their continued relevance as emblems of integrity.
The pure breeze of hundred generations, Baekse Cheongpung(百世淸風) serves as a kind of moral shorthand—an ideal encapsulated in a phrase—symbolizing the endurance of ethical clarity in an age of ambiguity. The stark formal treatment in these images, particularly the sculptural density of the black forms, reflects that clarity with unexpected visual power. Whether a historical artifact or a modern intervention, the work reclaims the language of virtue and repurposes it within a bold, expressive framework. It is a deeply Confucian message, refracted through a strikingly experimental visual idiom.
사진출처: https://www.threads.com/@o.binyoun.o/post/CuZWva5LL-Y?xmt=AQF06SiyRP-vtYfjx7SdgS241J14oUZYO1TY9wHdHg8bJQ