On Aug. 18, 1951, Communist soldiers came to the home of Song, Kui Soon and her family in South Korea. She had been making lunch when she heard a huge explosion and ran outside. There she found her husband's body. He had been shot in the head before being blown apart by the explosive.
The body of her 8-year-old son was nearby, "like a lump of charcoal with no arms or legs," she recalled. Her other sons, ages 11 and 13, were also killed, their bodies mutilated beyond recognition.
"I couldn't stand the pain in my heart. I wanted to die," she said later. "But I couldn't kill myself and orphan my two little girls."
She was 31 years old.
Esther Hong pays homage to her grandmother and the memory of that tragic day through her exhibition, "Lachrymatory," showing at the University of Alaska Anchorage's Kimura Gallery. She selected the title, which refers to small vessels, thought to be used to collect the tears of mourners and found in ancient tombs, to represent both the grief of her grandmother and the loving sympathy she feels for her.
Esther said her 88-year-old grandmother, suffering from Alzheimer's for the past two years, now remembers only the happiness of her life with her husband and children. She no longer remembers how they died, but prays for them every day and looks forward to being reunited with them in heaven.
The Korean War (1950-53) has been referred to as the "forgotten war." The exhibition brings back to mind not only the horrors of the Korean conflict but the brutal reality of the enduring damage and suffering caused by all wars. "Lachrymatory" reminds us again of the fragile humanity that lies beneath the statistics of battles.
Hong came to the United States in 1993 and graduated from UAA with a fine arts degree in 2004. Her show is also a success story. She returns to her alma mater with a beautiful and powerful exhibition.
The flow of the show develops ingeniously within the limitations of space, leading the viewer from point to point, culminating in an all-white room littered with the flower petals of mum plants where a video of Song, Kui Soon is silently played.
White, the funeral color of Korea, is used to great effect in creating an aura of serenity, dignity and peace within the space. The viewer is led from the lighted hallway, through a darkened area of war referencing materials and into the white room. It's thoughtful and effective.
Four round containers are placed within the dark center section. In the first, drops of water slowly fall from the ceiling to the center of a rusted pan, a metaphor for tears. There is a circle of "ruins," another circle of spent bullet cartridges and a subtly projected image of a man and husband.
The focus of the interior is a life-size watercolor of her grandmother meticulously painted by the artist. Done on rice paper, it is mounted with resin and slightly backlit to create a life-like image appropriate to the content.
One can sense the influence of her husband, artist Don Mohr, in the construction and arrangement of the installation, but the soul of the exhibition belongs to Hong. Her love for and the pain she shares with her grandmother are apparent and contagious.
Sadly, her story is oft repeated in the corners of the earth we refer to as war zones -- places where armistice is attained at the expense of mothers and grandmothers. In Korea, the 38th parallel lies in the middle of a demilitarized zone separating North and South. Somewhere in the South is what is left of the home where a bomb killed half of the family of Song, Kui Soon.
Across the Pacific, she is depicted in film, serenely holding a photograph of her late husband. She sits, meticulously dressed, smiling and dignified.
We watch her with great admiration and respect.
Don Decker is an Anchorage artist, teacher and writer.
By DON DECKER
Daily News correspondent