Doyeon GWON
Artist Statement
Bukhansan
1.
It was early summer after I had just turned eleven that I met this dog. In my neighborhood there was a small hill with many chestnut trees. It was also a place where there were all kinds of garbage and discarded Styrofoam from construction sites. At dusk, people from the neighborhood threw away trash and left-over food, and when night came, the garbage truck appeared noisily to pick up all the waste. I enjoyed strolling aimlessly around this area.
One day, I saw an emaciated dog coming down the slope and roaming the garbage dump. It was a small, white cross-breed. Standing upright, the dog looked at me with a piercing gaze. It looked weary, but it was not wary of me. The dog circled me, smelling my body. Then, as if it had made up its mind, it sniffed my palm and licked it. I started calling this dog “Bean Sprout.” Bean Sprout lived by the tree near the garbage dump. There was a pit covered with chestnut tree leaves. Inside the dry pit, there were two puppies hidden away. I visited this place every day to check on them. Occasionally, I got worried when I didn’t see them but I still left food there.
In September summer was nearing its end, and it was raining. My older brother told me a typhoon was coming. The bloated full moon kept hiding and revealing itself among the dark clouds as the rain poured all night long. I had a dream that night Bean Sprout and her puppies made their escape on a discarded piece of Styrofoam from the garbage dump.
Early next morning, the sun rose. I ran to the place. The layers and layers of bluish green chestnut leaves above my head were quivering in the midst of tranquil beauty and silence. But there was no trace of movement. I stuck my hand into the pit where Bean Sprout had lived. I felt a mushy something, cool yet warm and soft, brush against my skin. It was a sensation I had never felt before. I looked down at my palm. There was a faint trace of water. At the same time, an enigmatic mark was left within me, but I couldn’t tell what it was.
2.
After getting married in 2015, my wife and I found a house in a new town. For my new project I embarked on a long-term observation of plants that were disrupting the ecosystem at nearby Mt. Bukhansan. As though I was an ecologist, I spent four or five days a week in the woods and inspected the conditions of the grass and the trees. The changes that went on in the natural species were quite monotonous and slow. One day, I happened to run into a herd of wild dogs roaming around the Mt. Bukhansan. I watched them quietly. As time passed they came to view me as sort of like another tree or a companion from the woods who would do no harm to them. The dogs, which include White Leg of Bibong Slope, Black Mouth of Seunggabong Peak, and Pointy Ear of Hidden Wall, still remain as fugitives there.
It was after 2010 that the wild dogs of Bukhansan surfaced as a social issue. The City of Seoul views the massive redevelopment project of Eunpyeong District in 2012 as the cause of the problem, leading to the abandoned dogs moving to the mountain and then increasing in number. Before 2012 the Bukhansan National Park authorities were in charge of capturing these wild dogs, but, due to the rise of complaints since then, the City of Seoul has now taken control. The number of wild dogs caught in 2010 was nine, in 2012 it was 100, and close to 700 were caught in 2017. The number of dogs still remaining at Bukhansan is estimated by the City of Seoul as fifty. I took photographs of the fifty dogs. The wild dog, like the nutria (coypu), bullfrog, and bass, is classified as an “introduced species.” Exotic species prey on indigenous ones and reduce their number, so the wild dogs are treated in the same way as the bass or bluegill that disrupt the ecosystem. What awaits the dogs is but death, for it is implicit that most of them are put to death. The dogs at Bukhansan cohabit with humans in the same space, but in effect they do not co-exist. The more I scrutinize it, the reality of Bukhansan does not feel alien. Landscapes can be deceptive. Sometimes a landscape seems to be less a setting for the life of its inhabitants than a curtain behind which their struggles, achievements, and accidents take place.
3.
I often suffer from nightmares since I finished my Bukhansan project and came down from the mountain. It was a similar nightmare every time. It began with a chestnut tree, and ended with dogs sliding off a cliff. When I woke up from the dream, I would long for the mountain. I would want to go back there. The simple fact that dogs live in Bukhansan signifies the presence of the wide range of conditions that enable their existence. A dog is a poetic creature that implies all of these ecological conditions, including an area to display their territorial behavior, an ecosystem that provides their edible sources, and a sustainable breeding population. Bukhansan expresses itself through the portrayals of Snifer and Timely Rain. The photographs of the wild dogs in Bukhansan will be transcribed on paper and web, perpetually floating around in the infinite purgatory of images. These dogs, of whose existence not many knew previously, are now widely and easily accessible online. I feel a sense of reverence in the fact that I can record and document my beloved friends who are ever so fleeting in between the trees.
Whiny | Kunkun
In the early spring morning, through a thick-set fog, a young brown dog cuts across the forest, walking quietly toward the temple on the mountainside. It casts a suspicious gaze around for a long moment before heading to a spot where food is buried. There is a large red patch on its back.
The monks would bury their leftover food in the vegetable garden next to the temple. For the dogs of Bukhansan, this is an important place. When Whiny arrived at the garden, two other dogs were already eating. Only after they had left did Whiny slowly enter. It quickly dug up the food with its front paws, swallowed the meal in a hurry, and hastily departed the patch.
Whiny always moved alone. It seemed as if it had not yet found a reason to settle down. Outside of its time spent searching for food, it would pass the hours grooming its fur or basking in the sun. When the afternoon grew hot, it would retreat into a den it had dug to escape the heat.
At some point, Whiny began to follow White Legs' pack. A mountain this deep was no environment to survive in alone. It trailed the pack with the look of a child following the Pied Piper. To White Legs’ pack, however, it was little more than a plus-one.
As autumn arrived, Whiny's coat grew soft and radiant, full of a wild beauty. It was a natural color and sheen that a house dog could hardly possess. Looking at Whiny now, it was impossible to imagine the dog from half a year ago, who had suffered from a severe skin disease, sores festering all the way to its ears, and stared back with a dazed look. When the late-night moon shone on Whiny’s glossy coat, its beautiful curves stood out. Whiny had become the most magnificent dog in all of Bukhansan.
Then one day, tragedy struck. A hunter who usually captured dogs near the hiking trail entrance had made his way up to the peak. The moment Whiny saw him, its face froze, its jaw trembling, unable to move. It was shot in the hindquarters with a tranquilizer dart and fled desperately toward the forest with the syringe still hanging from it. Just a few steps from its den, the warmth drained from its body, and it collapsed unconscious in the brush. And for a long while after, Whiny was nowhere to be seen.
White Legs｜Shiroashi
Ash-gray eyes, a white ruff of fur on its chest and a white left leg, a long and sleek muzzle like a wolf’s. White Legs was the alpha of this peak. Though it had only recently become an adult, it was strong and valiant, always the first to charge when fighting other packs. White Legs roamed with a pack of six or seven other dogs, always subtly holding its tail erect to assert its status. Because it always carried its tail high above its rump, its perpendicular, flared tail could be seen even through the thick brush.
White Legs claimed the vegetable garden near the temple as its territory, and any strange dog that approached had to pass its inspection. When other dogs appeared in the garden, White Legs would stare them down intently from a distance. Most newcomers could tell by its demeanor whether or not they were welcome in this area.
Except for mealtimes, White Legs was never one to stay home. It would roam the forest until the middle of the night, chasing squirrels and birds. It was the kind of dog that would literally play until it dropped. As summer passed, White Legs grew more and more troublesome. It began to frequently dash out of the mountains and wander all the way down to the hiking trail entrance.
Place of Discovery: Vicinity of OO Peak, Bukhansan.
Distinguishing Features: Both ears pointed. Black nose. Eye discharge. Highly vigilant.
In October 2018, White Legs was shot with a tranquilizer dart by a hunter who had followed it to the top of the peak and was captured along with Black Mouth. A picture of White Legs appeared on the Seoul Metropolitan Government’s abandoned animal management system. Inside the steel cage, White Legs planted its front paws firmly, bared its teeth, and curled its lips. It raised its ears and held its head high, trying to show the dignity and fury of an alpha. But what pathetically came from its mouth was likely nothing more than a piteous whimper. Twenty days later, White Legs was euthanized along with Black Mouth.
Black Mouth｜Kurokuchi
Black Mouth stands in the moonlight. With ears perked, it looked at me, wagging its tail in a friendly manner. When I took a step closer, it spun around and ran into the forest. Like a great bird, Black Mouth flew into the forest’s shadow. From beyond the shadow that had swallowed it, I heard a long, slow, high-pitched cry.
Black Mouth was a cheerful and young female. She was a textbook example of how a beta, not an alpha, survives in a hierarchical society. She loved company, had an excellent grasp of power dynamics, and was a master of charming displays. On days when you met her innocent gaze, which seemed to say, "I like you," you had no choice but to take out the lunchbox from your backpack for her.
After two straight days of autumn rain, the sky cleared. As the mountaintop grew warm, Black Mouth appeared on a gentle path with her puppy. The puppy, now just over three months old, was already half its mother's size. A festering skin disease was visible on its back. Praying for a peaceful life, I named it Danbi, meaning "welcome rain in a drought." A light rustle could be heard whenever Danbi stepped on the leaves. Danbi roamed and bounded all over the vegetable garden. To this little one, this place was likely the entirety of its young world.
Early one morning, Black Mouth and Danbi were walking toward the hiking trail. Danbi, who had fallen behind while peering into an unfamiliar tin can, was just about to catch up to her mother when suddenly, a cry rang out from ahead. Danbi instinctively turned her head and dashed in the opposite direction. Returning to their rock den, Danbi trembled uncontrollably. Black Mouth did not come back.
I imagine Black Mouth's final moments. Someone coming all the way up to the peak. Being shot with a tranquilizer dart, her vision going black as she fled into the brush. Waking up in an animal shelter with White Legs. A few days later, watching the other dogs get injections; first one or two, then all at once, they began to cough, foul-smelling mucus running from their noses as they collapsed, their jaws and legs trembling. The warmth seeping out of her body. And then, my baby.
Lion's Mane｜Shishige
From somewhere, I heard a low, rumbling breath. At first, I thought it was Black Mouth calling. Peering into the darkness, I realized it wasn't. I couldn't see anything, but I could feel with certainty that someone was hidden in the forest, watching. A low, faint sound vibrated, as if through the ground. It was coming from the deep shade behind a grove of larch trees. The distance was closer than I thought. A few paces away was a tree that had fallen in a heavy snow. Beneath it, a dog stood, staring at me.
A thick brown coat, a large and sleek frame, a magnificent tail that hung below its rump. It was a dog that exuded wildness from its entire being. Even without baring its fangs, its very presence commanded a sense of dignity. Its sharply pointed ears, like radar, twitched twice as they angled backward. It stood perfectly still, observing me. In its dark, deep-set eye sockets, its brown eyes burned like flames. The dog raised the fur on its neck like a lion’s mane, leaned forward, and growled.
Lion's Mane lived in a hole dug beneath a large Mongolian oak. It had concealed the entrance to make it hard to see and lined the inside with leaves for warmth. Higher up in the tree was a crow's nest. The crow living at the top of the tree and Lion's Mane living at its roots never encroached on one another. It was as if two separate worlds, two unshared experiences, existed within this single oak tree.
Danbi｜Jiu
Whiny came back. With him was Danbi, Black Mouth’s puppy.
Danbi had grown so much she could be mistaken for her mother, and her skin disease had completely healed. Miraculously, she had overcome all the dangers that lurked at every stage of her young life. A congenital toughness could be felt from Danbi’s vibrant, energetic body.
Whiny and Danbi made a new home by the stone Buddha statue above the temple. It was a place frequented by monks and devotees, but the access path had been closed for temple renovations. As a result, the area behind the stone Buddha became an unexpected new paradise for them. In the midst of this, Danbi’s belly grew noticeably round. Whiny traveled back and forth to the temple's vegetable garden, continuously bringing back food. The loner, Whiny, had become a responsible mate. In July 2019, Danbi gave birth to two puppies. One was white and the other brown; both were stout and had bright personalities.
Whenever she had the chance, Danbi would take her puppies out to the fields and teach them how to find food. Once, a puppy tried to crawl through a wire fence and got caught on the barbs. It cried out continuously, but thankfully, its mother helped it get free.
After returning to the den, the puppy wanted to nurse, but Danbi showed no reaction, only sleeping. The puppy looked on helplessly, its eyes open toward the forest, before slowly closing them again. Dry, yellow leaves scattered and fell. They were chestnut leaves. The bare branches, having shed all their leaves, beautifully embroidered the sky. The area around the den filled with dry leaves. Whenever Danbi and her puppy walked over them, they made a light, rustling sound.