As many urban dwellers I also walk past the monoliths of glass and concrete making up the city without a second thought. But if I stop and smell the concrete once in a while, I may notice Seoul (서울) is a city full of art: paintings, installations and most of all sculptures, placed inside or around offices and apartments.
Often, I wondered why? It is not just to beautify the city. In fact, many of the pieces are little more than large chunks of metal or stylised cookie-cutter sculptures of families: they are legally required to be there.
In 1995, the Korean government passed a law mandating owners of buildings with more than 10 000 square metres of floor space to commit at least one percent of the building’s construction costs to art, such as paintings, sculptures or works of calligraphy. However, to get a construction permit under the law, owners only have to submit their designs to the evaluation committees run by local governments that often have no knowledge at all of art, which means there is often nothing to stop landlords from buying the cheapest steel cube they can find and plunking it down in the courtyard.
When I walk around the office buildings of Chung District (中區, 중구) in downtown Seoul, I cannot avoid noticing that the sculptures in front of many of them look pretty much similar to each other and how very few have any connection at all to the architecture behind it. Take, for example, Kim Chae-kwon (김재권) Digital Tower, which stands in front of the Vavien building in Chung District, central Seoul. The building is home to a restaurant in the basement and an investment and securities company on the first floor. Neither have much to do with the digital world and neither, for that matter, do the two sculptures, which seem to depict analogue clocks in gunmetal grey.
Often, I wondered why? It is not just to beautify the city. In fact, many of the pieces are little more than large chunks of metal or stylised cookie-cutter sculptures of families: they are legally required to be there.
In 1995, the Korean government passed a law mandating owners of buildings with more than 10 000 square metres of floor space to commit at least one percent of the building’s construction costs to art, such as paintings, sculptures or works of calligraphy. However, to get a construction permit under the law, owners only have to submit their designs to the evaluation committees run by local governments that often have no knowledge at all of art, which means there is often nothing to stop landlords from buying the cheapest steel cube they can find and plunking it down in the courtyard.
When I walk around the office buildings of Chung District (中區, 중구) in downtown Seoul, I cannot avoid noticing that the sculptures in front of many of them look pretty much similar to each other and how very few have any connection at all to the architecture behind it. Take, for example, Kim Chae-kwon (김재권) Digital Tower, which stands in front of the Vavien building in Chung District, central Seoul. The building is home to a restaurant in the basement and an investment and securities company on the first floor. Neither have much to do with the digital world and neither, for that matter, do the two sculptures, which seem to depict analogue clocks in gunmetal grey.
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Digital Tower (Kim Chae-kwon)
What about the stainless steel sculpture named Mild, which sits on the corner near Fraser Place Central Seoul? It is not even clear what the symmetrical piece represents, common to many of the works of Mun Sin (문신, 1923-1995) the sculptor.
Mild (Mun Sin)The most common critic to the system is in the fact that evaluation committees are in place under local governments, but as is often the case they lack experts and are likely to be politically influenced—which becomes more serious with provincial governments—while irregularities haunting the program involve some member of the committee.
Regardless of artistic merit, there have also been reports of corruption in competitions for the government-mandated expenditure among artists and their agents. In 2002, a group of 25 artists, agents and building owners in Pusan (釜山, 부산), the largest Korean port in the south of the country, were indicted on charges of giving and receiving bribes and illegal commissions to win building contracts. Such practices continued to such an extent that in 2006, the Anti-Corruption and Civil Rights Commission included the art program on its list of the most corrupt state-run programs in urgent need of reform, urging the Culture Ministry, the government authority in charge of the program, to develop immediate measures.
Another critic pointed out that it is 15 years since the law is in operation, but irregularities associated with the program still continue today, though they have been on the decrease, and this is to blame partly on the law’s forcing owners with no artistic inclinations to dole out cash. By the other side, many building owners and artists who are commissioned by building owners, declare they must do even if they do not want to and even some criticise the program as constituting excessive government regulation over the private sector.
Facing such criticism, the government relaxed the law in 2000, lowering the required spending on art from one percent of construction costs to the current 0.7 percent. Unfortunately, the situation did not improve. What was found during a survey of local building owners regarding their opinion of the program was that the majority of them still felt burdened by it. Bad practices actually stem from the pressure building owners feel to conform to the law while lacking an understanding of the program, or of art.
To respond to continued opposition to the program among landlords and the local art community, last year the Culture Ministry came up with a reform bill, proposing an “optional contribution system.” Under the revised law, building owners would be required to choose either to install art in their buildings as before, or contribute a specified amount to a public cultural fund—an amount lower than the threshold for spending on art. This fund should be used to implement programs and projects that meet the goals of the city. The law revision, if and when passed, is likely to lift a burden from building owners’ shoulders, positively contributing to the eradication of longstanding irregularities concerning the program. It will be similar to what some municipal governments in the United States have done.
The optional contribution system is surely positive in that it gives options to building owners, while the fund—based on contributions made by building owners—can be used to enhance public art in general. However, whether the system will be effective remains to be seen. Building owners can still opt to carry it out on their own, getting the difference—between the fund contribution requirement and the art budget requirement—back as a kickback.
The Culture Ministry hopes stricter quality regulations for builders who will choose to fund their own art projects will prevent that from happening. There is a plan to establish a pool of experts who can act as evaluation committee members at the central government level. In the United States, private developers can select their own arts consultants to develop public art projects, but those private development projects are required to go through a rigorous process that includes review of the art plan, artist selection procedures and aesthetic of the project as it is developed.
While the Culture Ministry’s revised bill that would establish the culture fund option and the national evaluation committees still has a long way to go amid industry scepticism and an unyielding opposition in the legislature, it is expected to be on the agenda soon. The Culture Ministry is planning to submit the revised bill to the National Assembly soon with the hope that it will take effect within this year. However, additional measures may still be needed. Currently there is no official body that building owners can turn to for consultation and it would be much better if there were such a body that included experts in the field and could act as a consultative body.
By the other hand, other critics think what matters is not what agency has authority over the organisation, but who will be actually involved in the organisation. There may be no guarantee to get rid of downtown cookie-cutter art, but expanding the art program to include not only fixtures, but also an array of art projects, including exhibitions and performances taking place at the building and other cultural activities, according to the given company’s concept, could be a solution. Under the current regulations, the art must be permanent, contributing to an overwhelming number of sculptures.
It will take some time for building owners to think a similar program in a positive way, however, considering an increasing number of companies take an active interest in the ‘art marketing’ strategy, it could be still hopeful that the program will be accepted as not just a regulation, but a facilitator for their cultural activities and a way to enrich society’s cultural environment.
Actually, some companies have already taken that lesson to heart. Korea’s largest steelmaker, POSCO (Pohang Iron and Steel Company), spent 1.7 billion won (US$ 1.4 million) to have world-renowned American experimental sculptor Frank Stella (1936- ) build Amabel in front of its headquarters in southern Seoul. Though its chaotic steel form has provoked controversy among passers-by, it cannot be called boring.
Regardless of artistic merit, there have also been reports of corruption in competitions for the government-mandated expenditure among artists and their agents. In 2002, a group of 25 artists, agents and building owners in Pusan (釜山, 부산), the largest Korean port in the south of the country, were indicted on charges of giving and receiving bribes and illegal commissions to win building contracts. Such practices continued to such an extent that in 2006, the Anti-Corruption and Civil Rights Commission included the art program on its list of the most corrupt state-run programs in urgent need of reform, urging the Culture Ministry, the government authority in charge of the program, to develop immediate measures.
Another critic pointed out that it is 15 years since the law is in operation, but irregularities associated with the program still continue today, though they have been on the decrease, and this is to blame partly on the law’s forcing owners with no artistic inclinations to dole out cash. By the other side, many building owners and artists who are commissioned by building owners, declare they must do even if they do not want to and even some criticise the program as constituting excessive government regulation over the private sector.
Facing such criticism, the government relaxed the law in 2000, lowering the required spending on art from one percent of construction costs to the current 0.7 percent. Unfortunately, the situation did not improve. What was found during a survey of local building owners regarding their opinion of the program was that the majority of them still felt burdened by it. Bad practices actually stem from the pressure building owners feel to conform to the law while lacking an understanding of the program, or of art.
To respond to continued opposition to the program among landlords and the local art community, last year the Culture Ministry came up with a reform bill, proposing an “optional contribution system.” Under the revised law, building owners would be required to choose either to install art in their buildings as before, or contribute a specified amount to a public cultural fund—an amount lower than the threshold for spending on art. This fund should be used to implement programs and projects that meet the goals of the city. The law revision, if and when passed, is likely to lift a burden from building owners’ shoulders, positively contributing to the eradication of longstanding irregularities concerning the program. It will be similar to what some municipal governments in the United States have done.
The optional contribution system is surely positive in that it gives options to building owners, while the fund—based on contributions made by building owners—can be used to enhance public art in general. However, whether the system will be effective remains to be seen. Building owners can still opt to carry it out on their own, getting the difference—between the fund contribution requirement and the art budget requirement—back as a kickback.
The Culture Ministry hopes stricter quality regulations for builders who will choose to fund their own art projects will prevent that from happening. There is a plan to establish a pool of experts who can act as evaluation committee members at the central government level. In the United States, private developers can select their own arts consultants to develop public art projects, but those private development projects are required to go through a rigorous process that includes review of the art plan, artist selection procedures and aesthetic of the project as it is developed.
While the Culture Ministry’s revised bill that would establish the culture fund option and the national evaluation committees still has a long way to go amid industry scepticism and an unyielding opposition in the legislature, it is expected to be on the agenda soon. The Culture Ministry is planning to submit the revised bill to the National Assembly soon with the hope that it will take effect within this year. However, additional measures may still be needed. Currently there is no official body that building owners can turn to for consultation and it would be much better if there were such a body that included experts in the field and could act as a consultative body.
By the other hand, other critics think what matters is not what agency has authority over the organisation, but who will be actually involved in the organisation. There may be no guarantee to get rid of downtown cookie-cutter art, but expanding the art program to include not only fixtures, but also an array of art projects, including exhibitions and performances taking place at the building and other cultural activities, according to the given company’s concept, could be a solution. Under the current regulations, the art must be permanent, contributing to an overwhelming number of sculptures.
It will take some time for building owners to think a similar program in a positive way, however, considering an increasing number of companies take an active interest in the ‘art marketing’ strategy, it could be still hopeful that the program will be accepted as not just a regulation, but a facilitator for their cultural activities and a way to enrich society’s cultural environment.
Actually, some companies have already taken that lesson to heart. Korea’s largest steelmaker, POSCO (Pohang Iron and Steel Company), spent 1.7 billion won (US$ 1.4 million) to have world-renowned American experimental sculptor Frank Stella (1936- ) build Amabel in front of its headquarters in southern Seoul. Though its chaotic steel form has provoked controversy among passers-by, it cannot be called boring.
Amabel (Frank Stella)
Other companies, too, have chosen unusual, creative pieces for their buildings. The most prominent is probably the Hammering Man by the American sculptor Jonathan Borofsky (1942- ), which watches over Kwanghwamun (光化門, 광화문) from the Hungkuk Life Insurance building in downtown Seoul.
Hammering Man (Jonathan Borofsky)I hope the trend can continue, because after all Seoul is a city worth this and much, much more!
Giorgio Olivotto
Seoul, Korea
September 12, 2010
Seoul, Korea
September 12, 2010
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