μμ λ ΈνΈ <μ½μΈμλμ€>
λμ ν μλ²μ§λ μ μ λ Έλ¬΄μμλ€. κ΅κ°μ λΆλ¦μ μλ΅ν΄ μ΄λ μμ΄ μ§κ²λ₯Ό λ©κ³ μ μ λ¬Όνμ λ λΌμΌ νλ, λ―Όκ°μΈλ κ΅°μΈλ μλμλ μ¬λ. λ―Έκ΅°λ€μ κ·Έλ€μ κ°λ¦¬μΌ μ§κ²λΆλ(A Frame Army)λΌκ³ λΆλ λ€. μλ²μ§λ ν μλ²μ§μ μ£½μμ βμ μ¬βλΌκ³ νννμ ¨μ§λ§ μ¬μ€ κ·Έλ μ μ ν΅μ μ£½μμΌλ μΈμ°λ€ λμκ°μ κ²μ μλμλ€.
λλ ν μλ²μ§μ μ£½μμ κ΄ν λ¦¬μμΉλ₯Ό μν΄ λ°©λ¬Έν ν μ¬μμ κ°―λ²μ κ°νλ μΌμ κ²ͺμκ³ , μμ μ κ·Έ κ²½νμμ μΆλ°νλ€. μΆκ³Ό μ£½μμ κ²½κ³μμ λλ κ°μ μ ν μλ²μ§μ μν©μ λμ νκ³ μ΄λ₯Ό μ¬μ§μΌλ‘ μ΄¬μνλ€.
ν μλ²μ§λ βμ² μ μΌκ°μ§λβλΌκ³ λΆλ¦¬λ κΈνμ§κ΅¬μμ λμκ°μ ¨λ€. λμμ μμ§λ§ ν΅μ κ΅¬μμΈ νμ λ° λλ μ μλ κ³³μ΄λ€. ν μλ²μ§λΌλ μ‘΄μ¬λ λ§μΉ λΏμ μ μλ λΉλ° κ°μλ€. μ΄λ Έλ μλ²μ§μ λͺλͺ κΈ°μ΅ μΈμλ ν μλ²μ§ κ°μΈμ μΆμ μ¬κ΅¬μ±ν μ λ³΄κ° κ±°μ μμλ€. κ΄λ ¨ κΈ°κ΄μ λ¬Έμν΄λ΄€μ§λ§, ν μλ²μ§λ μ μ ν΅μ λμκ°μ μλ§μ μ¬λ μ€ ν λΆμ λΆκ³Όνκ³ λ€λ₯Έ κΈ°λ‘μ μ°Ύμ μ μμλ€. κ΅λ°©λΆμμ νΈμ°¬ν λ Έλ¬΄μμ κ΄λ ¨λ λ Όλ¬Έκ³Ό μ μ λΉμ λ―Έκ΅μ κΈ°λ°λ¬Έμ, λ―Έκ΅°μ΄ μ΄¬μν΄ κΈ°λ‘μΌλ‘ λ¨κΈ΄ λ΄μ λ μμΉ΄μ΄λΈμ μ¬μ§ λ±μ ν΅ν΄ κ·Έλ λ²μ΄μ§ μν©μ κ°λ ν΄λ³΄κ³ μ νλ€. ν μλ²μ§ κ°μΈμ΄ μλ λ Έλ¬΄μλΌλ μ¬νμ μ‘΄μ¬μ κ΄ν μμ£Ό λ―Έμ½ν μ λ³΄λ‘λλ§ ν κ°μΈμ μΆμ μ¬κ΅¬μ±ν΄ λκ°λ€.
κ·Έλ¦¬κ³ ν μλ²μ§λ₯Ό κΈ°λ¦¬λ λλ§μ μμμ μΉλ λ€. ν μλ²μ§, νΉμ λ Έλ¬΄μμ νμ μ μ«μΌλ©° μ°Ύμ μ¬λ£λ€μ λͺ¨μλ€. λ―Έκ΅°μ νκ²©μ₯μΌλ‘ μ°μΈ κ³³μμ μμ§λ ννΌ, κ·Έ λΉμλΆν° μ§κΈκΉμ§ λͺ¨λ κ²μ λͺ©κ²©ν μ± λ¬΅λ¬΅ν μΉ¨μν΄κ°λ λ°μ μ‘°κ°, μΈλ΄κ³³μμ μ©κ³ μλ λλκ°μ§, μ΄ λμ λ±μ λ© λ Έλ¬΄μμ μ§κ² λ± ν μλ²μ§λ₯Ό κΈ°μ΅ν λ§ν λ¬Όκ±΄μ μ€κ³ μ€λΈμ λ₯Ό λ§λ€μλ€. κ·Έκ²μ μ€κ³ μκ³ λ§λ€κ³ μ°λ κ³Όμ μ μν μ‘΄μ¬μΈ ν μλ²μ§λ₯Ό λ€μ νμ€λ‘ νΈλͺ ν΄λ΄κ³ μ μμ΄λ ν° μμ¬μ λ¬»ν κ°μΈμ μμ μμ¬λ₯Ό λ€μ μ΄λ €λ΄λ μΌμ΄μλ€.
μ΄ μμ μ λ΄ κ°μ‘±κ³Ό λμ μΆμ λ΄λ΄ λΆμ¬νλ ν μλ²μ§λ₯Ό, κΈ°κ» μ€λ¬Ό λ¨μ§μ μ΄μ λ λͺ¨λ₯Έ μ± μ£½μ΄κ° ν μ¬λμ μΆμ κΈ°λ¦¬λ μμ μΆλͺ¨μ΄μ νμμ΄λ€.
My grandfather was a war worker. He was neither a civilian nor a soldier, but he had to carry war materials with an A-frame carrier instead of a gun, answering the call to defend the nation. The US Army called the unit made up of such people the βA-frame Army.β My father defined my grandfatherβs death as βkilled in action.β In fact, he did indeed die during the war but he was not killed in combat.
I was trapped by a mudflat while on an island I visited to research the death of my grandfather. My work has derived from this experience.
My grandfather passed away in a district of Geumhwa called the βIron Triangle.β As it is a restricted area, nobody is allowed to set foot there even though we can see it with our eyes. His existence is like a mystery waiting to be unlocked. There is little information to reconstruct his personal life save for some of my fatherβs memories. Although I contacted the relevant institution to enquire about my grandfather, there were no records on him: he was one of countless others who were killed in the war. I tried to gauge the situation of that time through theses concerning war workers compiled by the Ministry of Defense, confidential documents from the United States, and photographs taken by the US army and housed in the National Archive. I have managed to reconstruct an individualβs life despite the dearth of information on the social being of war workers, not just individuals.
I created a ritual to pay tribute to my grandfather. I collected materials and objects pertaining to his life as a war worker. I collected any articles that were available to remember him by (such as empty shells gleaned at a bombing training range, shards of a rock that had been eroded in silence while witnessing everything from that time to the present, rotten boughs at a secluded site, and a Korean A-frame that a worker once carried on his back instead of a gun) and made objects with them. The process of gleaning, stacking, making, and photographing these articles helps to call to mind my grandfather who was forgotten in reality and breathe new life into an individualβs short history that was buried beneath the grave history of war.
This work can act as either a remembrance or an action to pay tribute to my grandfather who has been absent in my family and my life, or as someone who died around the age of 20 without knowing why he had to die.