Artist Tak Young-hwan turns dreams into reality through the power of ink for musical 'Arang'

[INTERVIEW]
 

Artist Tak Young-hwan is behind musical ″Arang″'s moving ink painting projections on stage. [PARK SANG-MOON]

 
On April 20, 1447, Prince Anpyeong, the third son of Joseon Dynasty monarch (1392-1910) King Sejong, is said to have had one of the most beautiful dreams of his life.
 
In it, he and a close scholar walk along the foot of a mountain and arrive at a narrow valley hemmed in by jagged rocks. Unsure of which path to take, they are approached by a stranger, who leads them into a hidden garden: a secluded utopia where a stream flows quietly and peach blossom trees stand in full bloom.
 
When the prince awoke the next morning, he immediately summoned Ahn Gyeon, one of the most accomplished painters of the Joseon court, and ordered him to render the dream into an image. Three days later, the vision was realized as a sweeping ink-wash painting titled “Mongyudowondo,” or “Dream Journey to the Peach Blossom Land.”
 
More than five centuries later, in 2002, writer Choi In-ho (1945–2013) revisited the legendary painting, weaving its origin story together with an ancient Korean folktale about a tyrant king who seeks to tear apart two lovers. He titled it “Mongyudowondo.”
 

A landscape ink-wash painting, digitally rendered, by media artist Tak Young-hwan, used in a scene from ongoing musical "Arang" [TAK YOUNG-HWAN]

 
A prolific author and screenwriter, Choi was also a devoted theatergoer, often attending musicals with his longtime friend Yun Ho-jin, a musical director under legacy production house ACOM. After reading the novel, Yun became determined to adapt it for the stage: a story about a king, Yeokyung, who falls in love with a woman he sees in his dreams. The king meets the woman, Arang, in real life and tries to separate her from her husband, Domi, and make her his.
 
The project, now titled “Arang,” took longer than anticipated — over two decades — in part because Yun was searching for collaborators who could fully realize his vision.
 
Central to that vision was the challenge of conjuring utopia live. Theater is always ready for spectacle and has long imagined ideal worlds in dazzling ways. But Yun wanted something more attuned to the source material.
 
He turned back to ink. To realize his idea, he enlisted ink-wash media artist Tak Young-hwan, known for his work in ink-wash animation.
 
“My work is quiet, restrained, almost still. I did wonder whether it would work in such an environment,” Tak told the Korea JoongAng Daily in an interview in Yongsan District, central Seoul, on Jan. 26. “But I stayed focused on bringing out the authentic beauty of Korea.”
 

A scene from musical "Arang" playing at the National Theater of Korea in Jung District, central Seoul. [ACOM]

 
Tak, who holds a master’s degree in fine arts from Musashino Art University’s Department of Imaging Arts and Sciences in Japan and a Ph.D. from Jeonbuk National University’s College of Fine Arts in Korea, mainly works with ink wash — hand-drawn, then digitally rendered into moving animation. His works have been exhibited across Korea, Japan and Taiwan, and have also been used in various commercial projects, including in advertisements and Korean dramas. He has received accolades including an International Emmy nomination for interactive media and the top prize at the Asia Digital Art Awards. He is currently teaching at Tainan University of Technology’s Department of Multimedia & Animation.
 
“Arang” marks the first time he has worked on a musical. Tak spent a year and a half creating 15 landscapes, including the peach blossom paradise.
 
The outcome is dreamy. The scenes feel like pages from a storybook and have a transporting power. More importantly, they play a major role in advancing the narrative.
 

A scene from musical "Arang" playing at the National Theater of Korea in Jung District, central Seoul. [ACOM]

 
The sun, for instance, illuminates everything beneath it like a source of power, symbolizing the king’s obsessive desire for Arang. Subtle shifts in the sun’s position and hue were also intended to mirror his psychological turbulence.
 
By contrast, the moon symbolizes Arang and Domi. The changing phases of the moon reveal the characters’ inner states: the full moon signals abundance and happiness; the waning moon, anxiety and crisis; and the waxing moon stands for Arang and Domi’s unyielding love — reunion, recovery and permanence.
 
The glimmer of the moon against the water becomes ever so slightly brighter when Arang and Domi reunite after Arang manages to escape the king.
 

A landscape ink-wash painting, digitally rendered, by media artist Tak Young-hwan, used in a scene from ongoing musical "Arang" [TAK YOUNG-HWAN]

 
Tak also plays with texture and color. For scenes depicting desolate plains and wastelands, he used ottchil hanji, or lacquered Korean mulberry paper, achieving a dry, barren tone in moments that convey a character’s loneliness or isolation.
 
To give the paintings spatial depth on stage, Tak painted individual landscape elements on separate sheets of hanji, later layering and compositing them digitally.
 
“Everything was done by hand,” Tak said. “Just sourcing the right hanji costs about 100,000 won [$70] per sheet.”
 

A landscape ink-wash painting, digitally rendered, by media artist Tak Young-hwan, used in a scene from ongoing musical "Arang" [TAK YOUNG-HWAN]

 
Getting the right materials was important to the artist.
 
“Ink-wash painting is also associated with China and Japan. It was important for me to respect the show’s genuine emphasis on telling a Korean story. I began by sourcing hanji — and even my brushes — from Korea. I was also careful not to let the ink-wash paintings give off a Chinese or Japanese flair.”
 
Below is the rest of the Korea JoongAng Daily’s interview with Tak. Excerpts have been edited for clarity.
 
You’ve had an early peek at the final show during Sunday’s dress rehearsal. What did you think?
 
It was incredible — truly.
 
When you work as a media artist, finding music that truly fits your work is never easy. There are copyright issues, and you need music with real depth and richness. But this time, the very best professionals came together to compose, write and perform the music. I felt genuinely honored and deeply happy to be part of it.
 
How did you come to participate in “Arang”?
 
I had actually stepped away from being a media artist quite a while ago. Until around 2018, I was producing documentaries about North Korean defectors. What was supposed to take three years ended up taking seven or eight. Emotionally, it completely drained me. After that project, I stopped and rested for a while.
 
Then, by chance, I was invited to Taiwan to teach. Teaching there felt like a reset. In the fall two years ago, my former department told me a Korean production company had reached out. It turned out the director had been searching for someone who could work not only as a painter but also in video.
 
She suggested a video meeting. At the time, I had a lecture scheduled at Oxford University. The theme was the expansion and development of Korean traditional ink painting through media. Ink painting exists in China, Japan and Korea — but what makes Korean ink painting distinct? What are its origins and processes?
 
We met online the day before my lecture. It truly felt like fate — Mongyudowondo and that lecture were speaking the same language.
 
Which scenes required the most work?
 
The prologue — without a doubt. We changed it seven or eight times. The wasteland that appears at the beginning of the king’s nightmare had to express the character’s loneliness and inner fear. The sandstorm imagery became the best solution.
 
The Peach Blossom Land scene also involved endless discussion. From the director’s perspective, this landscape is what the protagonist sees before everything unfolds — it needed a dreamlike quality. But I felt that if it became too ethereal, the essence of ink painting would disappear. We worked hard to find a balance: a landscape that felt dreamlike yet grounded in a recognizable ink-wash-painting aesthetic.
 
Which scene is your personal favorite?
 
The moment when I felt my intentions were translated most clearly on stage was the winter landscape, which appears in Act 2 after Domi and Arang reunite and wander as they escape the king. While painting it, I didn’t want the snowy scene to give off coldness, because in this moment, the couple is happy and full of warmth. I wanted to convey a sense of warmth within the cold, and I think it turned out very well.
 

A scene from musical "Arang" playing at the National Theater of Korea in Jung District, central Seoul [ACOM]

You are a media artist. How did you come to focus on ink-wash painting?
 
When I studied in Japan, I researched how landscapes appear differently when seen through a camera versus with the naked eye. The mountain you see on camera isn’t the same mountain our eyes perceive. What caught my attention during that research was the smoke surrounding the mountains.
 
Later, in Korea, I visited a Buddhist temple and noticed a streak of incense smoke. I assumed it would dissipate quickly, but instead, it rose and lingered, forming a continuous line that stretched all the way to the edge of the temple grounds. I remember thinking, How did it travel all that way? It was fascinating.
 
When ink soaks into hanji, the visual phenomenon is very similar to smoke. I began thinking about blending smoke and ink painting as a visual language.
 
What does ink painting mean to you?
 
It’s a question I’m always asked, and it’s a difficult one. My answer changes depending on who I am at that moment in life.
 
I am a media artist and self-taught in ink-wash painting. I spent three years inside my workshop, just practicing — understanding the material’s physical properties and grasping the medium’s essence.
 
Today, I’d like to say that ink painting feels like freedom. I don’t really have hobbies, but ink painting feels like one.
 

BY LEE JIAN. [lee.jian@joongang.co.kr]