Onggi is pottery in Korean

Thanks to Joo for all the photos.

Before I came to Ulsan, almost right after I was offered the job, maybe even before, I discovered the Onggi Festival which takes place near Ulsan every year around this time. I was excited to go, made plans, and got over to the pottery village today. While I had tried to do a little research beforehand, I really had no idea what to expect. I knew onggi was traditional Korean pottery, mainly used for storing food. I knew there would be a bunch of international artists, and I knew I wanted to buy some pottery. What I didn’t realize was how huge the compound would be, and I had forgotten how much I enjoy art processes and craft.

When Joo and I arrived at the pottery village, we were both overwhelmed with its size. While the festival only takes place for one month out of the year, the compound is set up like a theme park, only for art. It’s amazing. Outside the gate are pottery shops, food stands, a school, kilns and a museum. Inside was a food court, several different galleries showcasing different pottery, interactive studios, demonstrative studios, exhibits on the process of making onggi, and even exhibits on the uses of onggi, including an area for making kimchee which is kept in onggi.

Going with someone who knew little about pottery allowed me to explain a lot of what was going on and take a second look at things about pottery that I had taken for granted – like that clay is cut off the lump with a wire. Of course I also learned a bit about the processes of pottery in Korea.

The clay is kneaded by foot and with a stick

Pottery is an ancient craft and the festival celebrated Korea’s use of onggi as a utilitarian, food storage vessel. Each step of the process was shown either by visiting artists, interactive activities, or through photos with details.

Adding clay

I had never seen someone make a very large pot, and the process of construction varies from that of smaller objects. Rather than trying to center a lump of clay that is same size as the artist and then pull it up into a shape, the clay is rolled out into slabs that are then added bit by bit onto the pot.

Shaping

The potters used paddles like this one to shape the clay after attaching it to the body of the vessel.

Kiln

I’m still not sure how they move these large pots or how they load and unload them from the kilns, but the process of firing a kiln like this seems incredible.

Finished onggi - It's huge!

While there was so much to see that I didn't do any of the hands on, interactive activities, I enjoyed the entire experience. My love of craft and art processes was rekindled, further encouraging me to find a pottery class in a country that takes great pride in this ancient craft and the traditions that have been passed down from potter to potter for generations.

The importance of ambiance

Many of the pottery shops at the Oegosan Pottery Village were selling mass produced, possibly machined pottery, but I wanted something unique. Something that looked like it was made by a person and felt like it too. Luckily there was one shop that was this way. Before going into the shop, I noticed the pottery on the outside. Unlike the other shops, it did not have rows and rows of onggi, rather it had a small stack of large pots and walking up to it was like stepping down into another land. Not one made for Korean and foreign tourists, but one made for a potter who loves their work. There were even some old pots on the roof which added to this feeling.

To the right of the shop was the studio and inside sat work benches that had seen good use. The only “clean” spot being where the artist sat. The smell of the studio, wet clay, reminded me of my pottery classes and all other associated memories. I was transported, to an international land of craft and artistry.

Stepping back into the sunlight and looking through the windows of the shop, I was excited. This is what I was looking for. A small shop, with a small quantity of pottery on display: tea cups and bowls, some flower pots and cups. Each piece had the artist’s stamp on the bottom and the sizes and shapes were as they should be. A little irregular, not perfect, with slight variations in glazes and coloring. Just enough create a dilemma with decisions. The only thing that would have made it better would have been to get to hear the artists talk about their work, but sometimes I don't know what questions to ask and of course the language barrier makes it difficult.

The dilemma

After looking around the shop with an eye for detail, touching things, mulling things over and finding a bowl I was in love with, I decided I would still check out the other shops before buying. My philosophy is, “If it’s meant to be, it will be.” I walked out of the shop, with my heart strings being pulled toward that bowl and those tea cups, and checked out the other shops. No others were like this one. None had quite the same ambiance, and there were fewer shops and studios than I originally thought. So, after a bit I returned with a budget in my mind. The shop lady recognized me, grabbed her calculator and showed me the prices. Then I went over to the bowls, the one I wanted was still there, and I looked through the others more thoroughly. After my purchase, I was satisfied. I had accomplished what I wanted for the day.

Stereotypes in Ulsan

Occasionally stereotypes hold some general truth, but perhaps more often, they just make me laugh. Below I have simply listed those I have noted, and I tried to refrain from adding any bias to show which ones I think are true and which are hilarious.

Also, please note in Ulsan, the term foreigner is used to describe non-Asian, English speakers, so mainly those coming from America, Cananda, Australia, and South Africa.

• Foreigners need bread
• A foreigner doesn't need a rice cooker
• Foreigner home-cooked food is not salty enough and is "healthy"
• Foreigners can't live without certain sauces: yellow mustard, steak sauce, ketchup, etc.
• Foreigners love coffee. There are restaurants that advertise serving coffee and hot dogs, coffee and spaghetti and waffles, and I think I even saw coffee and beer
• Foreigners, particularly Americans, rely on their mothers to do their laundry, dishes, and other general cleaning
• Foreigners don't like "spicy" food, kimchee, or any other "strange" Korean food
• Foreigners won't eat raw fish or beef

Assumptions about the produce section

Like in Russia, shopping for groceries has been one of the more challenging things. As a consumer, when I know the language written on packaging, I like to look at ingredients, calorie content, and the like. By the time I left Russia, I knew enough of the language that I was almost back to how I shopped in the States, but in Korea, I am starting from scratch. As I am just learning the alphabet, it is difficult to sound out the ingredients, let alone understand the words I’m sounding out. Yet, through it all, I have managed to avoid mistakes similar to those I made in Russia. When I bought milk, I actually bought milk … But a whole new set of issues has arisen.

So far, most of my grocery shopping has been in large hypermarkets, comparable to a super Wal-Mart. Finding products in the store can be a challenge, simply because the place is huge. Also, signage in English doesn’t always lead me to the right place. I saw a sign that read “Fresh Dairy” and in the case under the sign were processed meat products. It made me wonder why they even had English signage!

Surprisingly, through it all, one of the most confusing things has been the produce section of the grocery store. In Russia this was a bit confusing as well, but in a different way.

Generally in Russia there were loose bins of produce, whether it be apples, potatoes, carrots, bananas, etc. Like in the States, you grab a plastic bag and fill it with your selected amount of produce, but unlike the States, the produce is not weighed by the cashier at check out. Instead, you should take your produce to a scale – sometimes there is a person to weigh and label it for you and sometimes you have to weigh and label it yourself. Overall, the Russian system was only a bit intimidating, with the major question being, do I need to weigh this myself or is there someone to weigh it for me?

In Korea, at a hypermarket, things are a bit different. Almost all produce is pre-bagged, though there are some loose things – like potatoes, occasionally onions, and the like. The loose produce obviously needs to be weighed, and there is a woman who will weigh it for you. The pre-bagged produce with prices is also no trouble. It is the pre-bagged produce without prices marked that is the confusing and intimidating part. In Russia, these needed to be weighed along with everything else, so that was my assumption. In order to avoid the confusing ordeal of being at the cashier and having to go get something weighed, I went to the lady by the scale and gave her my pre-bagged broccoli. She took it, walked over to where the broccoli was displayed, and put it away.

Fail.

Because I was a bit embarrassed about this result, I didn’t go pick up the broccoli again. I just decided that I didn’t really need it and continued walking around the produce section a bit thrown.

The next time I went to the grocery store I found things were not as confusing as I had made them. Anything pre-bagged with a UPC has a set price and the cashier just scans it like any other product. It turns out in this case that my experience in Russia actually hindered my understanding.

A ridiculous assumption ...

When I got on my first bus here in Ulsan, I noticed a small pouch attached to a bar on what would be considered the passengers’ side of the bus. The pouch was made out of a synthetic, burlap like material and had a loosely woven window which showed its contents. It seemed to hold some small, colored, oval rocks and dangled as we went down the road. My first thought was, huh, strange. I wonder what that is? Maybe a good luck charm or something to protect passengers and drivers?

The next bus I got in, in the same place, I saw the same type of pouch only it was a different color material, with different colored “eggs” in it. This seemed to reaffirm my hypothesis that it was something to do with travel because I hadn’t seen them anywhere else. Not indoors, only in vehicles, particularly buses.

Finally, I noticed a similar pouch in my co-director’s van. It was hanging from the rear view mirror, but contained something which looked like coffee beans. Now, anyone in a different frame of mind, that hadn’t already carved a misconception into stone, would have recognized this for what it was. But, in my made up world, where I had hypothesized a good luck charm and felt it had been reiterated, I furthered my assumption. But research is not only direct observation, so I conducted an interview.

I asked a very leading question, “What is that? Some sort of good luck charm? I’ve also seen them in the bus.” Of course, I was trying to support my previous assumption, rather than remain open to all possible outcomes.

Bless my co-director for not laughing at me or thinking my assumption was silly. She just said, “It’s supposed to make it smell good.”

All the sudden I realized how ridiculous my hypothesis and assumed conclusion had been. It was based not on actual observation, or thorough investigation, but on what little I know of talisman in my own culture and what I know about beliefs in Russian culture. I had made a jump of logic that turned out to be kind of silly. Granted in the States people hang rosaries and Russians had icons in their vehicles so maybe it wasn’t too far of a stretch, but what else hangs on a rear view mirror that is in no way associated with religion? Air fresheners.

The image that popped into my mind immediately after my co-director answered the question was the tree shaped air fresheners people have in the States being interpreted as a good luck charm or some type of talisman. The tree god that protects your car … I wonder how many other assumptions I have made like this that have gone unchecked …?