Woman Who Does Only Her Eye Make Up

Woman Who Does Only Her Eye Make Up
by artist Young-hee Kim

It has been about thirteen and half years since I've moved to the States. My fear of a language barrier is almost gone, yet I now fear that I am slowly forgetting my own articulation in Korean. My mom sometimes doesn't understand what I say in Korean, and I constantly find myself using 'Konglish' to my brother and friends. It doesn't mean that I am fully articulate in English either.

I have been reading Korean books for that reason. I especially like the writings of Korean women artists - autobiographic essays. There are things that can be only expressed in a language of my mother tongue, and my heart moves by these artists' words, thoughts, and lives as if they were my own.

Artist Young-hee Kim has been living in Germany for almost 40 years, making paper dolls - mostly children. They unfold the old, nostalgic narratives of Korean village around 1960s and 1970s - I must confess I like her writings much better. I read her writings and nod at her honest confession of prideful skepticism, struggle as a mother and a foreigner, and endurance and inspiration she gravitates being an artist. She says she wakes up 4AM every morning, thinks about her work, works 8 hours in her studio. I, too, then hope for a life similar to hers - which means to have a relentless passion of creating, youthful heart that feels, a full life as a woman, and a garden that grows all kinds of flowers and vegetables. Following is an excerpt from her book Woman Who Does Only Her Eye Make Up. Translated by me.

"나는 안 그런가. 쇼 윈도에 걸려 있는 풀색 스웨터를 반찬 값 다 털어 사서 며칠 잘 입다가 갑자기 배추벌레 터진 색깔 같아 구역질을 하며 멋어 내던지지 않았던가. 날씨가 흐린 날은 죽었으면 좋겠다며 찔찔 울고, 화창한 날은 사는 게 뭐 이러냐고 허전해 한다...

신문 받아 들면 이쪽을 봐도 골치 아프고 잘 모르겠고, 저쪽을 넘겨도 싱숭하고, 그 다음 저쪽을 봐도 별로다. 게다가 의심까지 많아 코방귀 퀴퀴거리기만 한다. 공부는 했던 여자라 보기는 해야겠는데 대충 본다... 모르는 데다, 건방지고, 믿지 않는다. 그저 마늘쪽이나 아낄 줄 알지..."

"Am I not that same? Didn't I use up all of my grocery money for that olive colored sweater from a show window, wore it well for a few days, then threw it away as puking because I felt the color was like an explosion of a cabbage worm. When the weather is gray, I sob bitterly wanting to die; when the weather is bright, I become lonely complaining about my life.

When I pick up the newspaper, one corner gives me a headache and I don't even know what it is about. The other corner seems aimless and next page doesn't interest me. Furthermore, I just snort at them with my doubts. I just pretentiously skim through the articles for I am an educated woman. I am uninformed and prideful, and I am a skeptic. I just know how to be stingy with the garlic pieces..."