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The sound of fulling in
a neighbor's house, gathers momentum through the night.
The fulling women must be so sleepy,
but the work continues even after the cock crows.
Were they sisters-in-law
chatting happily of
household events
devotedly fulling the winter
clothes of their husbands,
they would accept their
pain with joy.
But life is difficult;
their clothes are shabby and
thread-bare;
they resent fulling
another's silk;
yet they must full
through the night.
"The Sound of Fulling" was written by the late Yang Chu-dong, poet
and Korean literature scholar. His keen observations of Korean-style fulling
might well overwhelm someone who has never seen the traditional way that
Koreans removed wrinkles from clothing, or heard the sounds of traditional fulling.
The basic tools for fulling were a squat stone "fulling block"
tatumi-tol and two rounded wooden sticks called pangmaengi. A woman sat on the
floor in front of the tatumi-tol and literally pounded on the laundry wrapped
around a wooden board with a pangmaengi held in each hand until it was
wrinkle-free and shiny. The rhythmical sound of the wooden sticks, muted
somewhat by cloth on stone, is truly musical.
This type of fulling is generally suited to bulky items such as autumn and
winter clothes or ibul (eiderdown) covers. Naturally, the sound of the sticks
marked the colder seasons and resonated pleasantly from the house out into the
neighboring alleys. As a child, I often fell asleep to the rhythm of tatumi
pounding, if ( awoke later during the night, the sound still permeated the
stillness: "To-tak, to-tak, t'tuk-tak, t'tuk-tak, ko-tu-rak t'tak,
t'tak."
Koreans like to speak of "three joyous sounds", the sound of a baby
crying, related to the security of having one's bloodline continued; the sound
of reading, indicating advancement in one's spiritual life; and the sound of
fulling cloth, ensuring diligence, peace. fulness, and security within the
household. The saying was probably coined so that we wouldn't think of these
sounds as unpleasant. Interestingly enough, there are many taboos associated
with the tatllmi-tol. To sit on the tatumi-tol is to invite divorce. A daughter
who sits on a tatumi-tol will lose the good favor of her mother-in-law, and a
son who sits on it will lose the good favor of his mother-in-law. If you use
the tatllmi-tol as a pillow, your marriage negotiations will not be completed
successfully, or your mouth will become crooked .The taboos were to remind
people to treat their tatumi-tol with care.
Fulling was frequently thought of as a way of dealing with stress. For married
women it was a way to cope with the pressures and strains of living with
overbearing mothers-in-law. It was customary for a father on his first visit to
his daughter after her marriage to bring her a tatumi-tol because she could
relieve her emotional stress while learning the virtues of restraint and
patience through tatumi pounding.
Aside from all that, the sound of the pangmaengi is very musical. Two women,
enthusiastically beating away on a pile of wrinkled clothes or fabric, produce
a sound as musical as any percussion instrument. A folk song from Yangp'yong,
Kyonggi-do province, evokes both the sight and the sound of a woman working at
a tatumi-tol:
Ta-ti-mi, ta-ti.mi
ceaseless pounding
hands ply shoulder high
birch sticks
they should be so lucky
wielded only
by the hands of the oldest daughter.
The tatumi-tol is stored upside down when not in use. This is to keep the
surface smooth; it looks like an animal on its back. The underside of the tatumi-tol
is also very distinctive, reminding one of a miniature castle or a cocoon. In
fact, there are some tatumi-tol that have four carved legs and a protruding
belly, complete with bellybutton. Some tatumi-tol have decorative carvings on
the underside. This was to lighten their weight and to make them look
attractive when stored upside down. It was also sometimes to improve their
tonal quality. Tatumi-tol invariably have different tones. People in different
regions like different sounds. The family tatumi-tol may have been carved to
emit a favored sound much in the way a percussion instrument is selected.
I have spent my life collecting artifacts related to the culture of the women's
quarters, which, of course, includes the tatumi-tol. I have always thought of
the tatumi-tol as an example of Korea's stone
carving heritage as well as a kind of percussion instrument of the common
people. I have collected several hundred of the most beautiful. I stack them
wherever I find the space.
Collecting tatumi-tol was inevitable for someone interested in objects that
were used in women's quarters, but I had no idea I would end up with so many.
My collection grew to more than 500. I have heard of people with several dozen
tatumi-tol, but I have yet to hear of any research being done on their
aesthetic value, in other words, their beauty in shape and sound. Although the
tatumi-tol is not included on the list of 'seven friends in the women's
quarters," it was an essential item for smoothing the cloth in the making
of clothes; its function went beyond that of a simple tool for fulling.
Koreans in the past loved to wear white clothing, which meant that clothes had
to be washed frequently. Moreover, since Korea was very cold in winter,
clothing had to protect against the wind and provide insulation. Hanbok. the
traditional Korean garment, was not washed as is, but rather taken apart and
each part laundered separately. As the pieces were put back together, they were
starched; they were also fulled to get the fibers to spread out and soak up the
starch more effectively, thereby making the garment windproof. Hence fulling
was important. A well-starched hanbok was more soil resistant, and when
laundered, the starch carne off easily taking any dirt with it without harming
the fabric. A well-fulled garment was stiff and shiny; it rustled like paper
when the wearer moved.
The tatumi-tol has virtually disappeared today, but until the end of the Choson
Dynasty (1910) every home had one or two. When I was young, I did not think the
tatumi-tol beautiful or the sound of the fulling sticks beating the cloth on
the fulling block wonderful. However, in the process of collecting needles and
thread for my main interest, embroidery, I began to collect tatumi-tol,
pangmaeng mats and other items needed for fulling and in the end I amassed a
collection of truly beautiful objects.
As my collection of tatumi-tol grew, I was forced to keep only the nicest ones
inside my home, those with carvings or paintings. I put the rest, about three
hundred, on the roof. Unfortunately, many of them, worn smooth and shiny by
long use, were damaged by acid rain. Every morning I used to go up on the roof
and move about a dozen of them. One day I put several of them together
end-to-end and started beating on them with pangmaengi. It was fun; I felt like
a child playing the xylophone. I played for quite some time and although my
lack of musical training makes it impossible for me to describe the sound
accurately, each tatumi-tol had its own distinctive t'tak, tak, t'aeng, taeng,
pok, ttuk, or chaeng. I realized I was hearing not just the sound of tatumi
sticks fulling clothes, I was hearing the particular tatumi sound that had been
selected by a particular mason. Had I more musical knowledge, I could have
"drummed" all 500 tatumi-tol in my collection and identified the five
basic notes in Korean music. Suddenly I realized that tatumi-tol are worth
studying as traditional instruments.
One of the tatllmi-tol had a beautiful color and the phrase "eight
directions/one universe" carved on it The inscription embodied the idea
that the universe is a single house, containing self, family, home, tatumi-tol,
etc, in harmonious co-existence. The average housewife had a concept of
universe and as she worked the tatumi sticks on the household clothes, she
savored the beautiful sound.
It would probably be difficult to identify another object that has as much
sentimental and culturally identifiable value for Koreans as the tatumi-tol. It
seems the more that people use something, and the more uses the item has, the
more vital is its role in their culture. Air and water are the most
representative examples. Every new experience of this truth elicits from me a
cry of pleasure. Traditional wrapping cloths, various household items, and paper
object are other examples.
Apparently only Korea and Japan have this tradition of the tatumi-tol I met a
Japanese dancer once who told me her family had donated a rare and beautiful
tatumi-tol to a museum. When I finally saw the piece, I was disappointed.
Rectangular, with edges that were only roughly finished, it was only of very
average quality. I was surprised that someone who fancied herself an artist had
so little understanding of what was artistic. Unfortunately, however, Japanese
tatumi-tol exist nowadays only as items in literature, a state of affairs that
Koreans should not take for granted. In a hundred years, Koreans ma y find
themselves in a similar situation without even a crude tatumi-tol left to
admire.
In the traditional Korean home. furniture served both a functional and
aesthetic role. It was a source of family pride and thus was of the best
quality that the family could afford. It was true for the tatumi-tol as well.
Once a tatumi-tol was elegantly carved and painted, it embodied the owner's
desire to aspire to a higher social class. However, I have several tatumi-tol
decorated with folk paintings. I asked the experts, but they could tell me
little. After careful though I came up with my own explanation: Once upon a
time a tatumi-tol salesman was trying to sell his stock of unpainted
tatumi-tol. A hungry painter, seated nearby, made an offer to the young peasant
housewives who came to buy the tatumi-tol: "For the price of a bowl of
noodle soup, I'll decorate your stone with a painting." The housewives
agreed The artist thus carved designs and then painted them. The satisfied
women gladly paid his fee and, balancing the tatumi-tol on their heads for easy
carrying, happily took it home.
Many of the tatumi-tol paintings were of surprisingly good quality. This made
me look at the carvings and paintings on tatumi-tol again in terms of their
artistic qualities. As a result I discovered a new facet of uniquely Korean
aesthetics. Perhaps tatumi-tol should be collected for that reason as well. I
also discovered that many of my tatumi-tol were inscribed with information
about their owners. Probably the gravestones of abandoned gravesites were saved
and used as tatumi-tol in memory of their ancestors.
Recently, I donated my collection of 500 tatllmi-tol to the National Museu. My
only desire is that those who see these fascinating pieces will find them an
inspiration. I hope that they will be studied for their musical and artistic
qualities, and for what they tell us about Korean cultural values.
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