The writer reflects on a Taegeukgi at the National Museum of Korea and uses it to explore how knowledge changes what people see. The piece traces the flag’s history from its use in 1882 and its ban after August 1910 to its retention by South Korea in 1948. It also notes that the design was not fully fixed for years, with the blue shade officially lightened in 1997.
Courtesy of David A. Tizzard
I recently walked around the National Museum of Korea, taking in the various sights, the objects, the stories, the pagodas, the lakes and everything else. It's a remarkable building, and one that I love spending time in. I'm also glad that Korea now has enough confidence to convey and share its history so passionately with people.
At one point, I found myself standing beneath the Korean flag. This was in the section on the Korean Empire. There I was, looking at it … but it was different from normal. It wasn't the Sam-taegeuk, which features blue, red and yellow. Yet at the same time, it wasn't the regular Taegeuk we see on the flag today, with the red and blue divided into distinct halves. On this one, the red and blue swirls melted into each other. They didn't stay on their own side. Instead, they invaded. They flooded. They blended into each other, creating a very fluid and flexible image.
