황금 눈물 (golden tears)                                                        2014. 12. 김혜련

그는 사진 속에서 웃고 있었다. 남쪽 군인들과 마주보면서 귀엽게, 사랑스럽게 웃고 있었다. 옆에 있는 북한 군인은 손에 담배를 들고 있었지만 그는 남쪽 군인을 쳐다보며 그냥 웃고 있었다. 약간 쑥스러운 듯, 눈매가 가늘고 선하고, 착하고 정직해 보여서 도무지 살인을 할 수 있을 것 같지 않다. 가늘어 보이는 얼굴선과 긴장을 풀고 있는 그 자세는 남성적이기보다는 여성적이다. 이 젊은 군인의 어머니는 누구일까? 그 아버지보다는 나는 어머니가 더 궁금해진다. 얼굴의 고운 선이 여성적으로 보이기 때문일까? 아니면 내가, 그 얼굴을 그리고 있는 내가, 곧 있으면 군대를 가게 될 애처로운 아들을 둔 엄마이기 때문일까? 그는 웃고 있었다. 사진 속 분위기로 보아 1976년* 이전일 것 같은데 아마도 이제는 60살이 넘었을 것이다. 이 사진으로 인해 혹시 불이익을 당하지는 않았을까? 남한 군인들과 어울려 환담을 하고 그것도 환하게 웃다가 남한 쪽 카메라에 찍혔다고 혹시 박해를 받지는 않았을까? 숙청된 것은 제발 아니겠지.

그는 웃고 있다. 사진 속에서 환하게.

혹시 강제수용소에서 굶고 있는 것은 아닐까? 병들어서 죽은 것은 아닐까? 그는 지금, 사진 속 그는 지금, 내 작품의 모델이 되어, 한 번도 본 적이 없는 나로 하여금 눈물 흘리게 하고 있다. 타인의 얼굴 그리기를 부담스러워 하는 나로 하여금, 수도 없이 쳐다보며 그 얼굴을 그리게 하고 있다. 붓을 들고 고개를 숙이고, 때로는 눈물이 너무 흘러 그리다 말고 소리 죽이고 울었다. 그와 내가 무슨 인연이란 말인가? 그는 지금 살아있을까? 그의 어머니가 이처럼 이렇게 환하게 웃었을까? 남한 군인을 마주보고 이렇게 환하게 웃는 그는 분명, 평소에도 이렇게 자주 웃었을 것이다. 자상하고 섬세한 여느 젊은이들처럼, 그렇게 환하게 웃었을 것이다. 그는 웃고 있는데, 그를 그리는 나는 눈물이 난다. 그리고 있노라면 그가 나인지, 내가 그인지, 그의 얼굴에서 빛이 나온다. 그가 쓴 모자가 광배가 되고, 웃던 그는 울고 있다. 나대신 울고 있다. 내가 너가 되고 너가 내가 되어, 눈물이 난다. 뱃속에서부터 눈물이 난다. 내가 너가 되고 너가 내가 되는, 그 속에서 하나가 되는 황금빛 눈물이 된다. 황금 눈물, 우리의 살인을 용서해 달라고, 그는 아마도 하늘나라에 있을 것이다. 황금빛 눈물 안에서 웃고 있을 것이다.

* 도끼만행 사건이 일어난 해

-2015 베를린 한국문화원 개인전 <황금눈물>에 수록된 작가노트

Golden Tears                                                            2014. 12. Heryun Kim

He was smiling in the photograph. As he stood, he appeared to be facing the South Korean soldiers and smiling adorably, lovably. The North Korean soldier next to him was holding a cigarette, but he was looking at the South Korean soldiers and only smiling. There is an air of bashfulness about him; his eyes are small and kind, and he looks like a good, honest person. He doesn't look like someone that could kill anybody. His relaxed stance and the narrow lines of his face all come across as more feminine than masculine. Who is the mother of this young soldier? I'm more curious about the mother than the father. Is it because the graceful lines of his face strike me as woman-like? Or is it because I, myself—me, the one drawing his face—am a mother as well, with a pitiable son who will soon be doing his military service? He was smiling. From the scene within the photo I would guess that the snapshot dated back to before 1976*; if so, the soldier is doubtlessly more than 60 years old at this point. Is it possible that he was disadvantaged somehow because of this photo? Is it possible that, because he conversed with the South Korean soldiers—while smiling so radiantly, at that—and was photographed by a South Korean camera to boot, that he was persecuted? Please, let it not be. Let it not be that he was purged. He was smiling. Radiantly, in the photo. Is it possible that he is starving in a concentration camp right now? That he fell ill and died? He has become the model of my piece, and right now, the man in the photo, right now, has moved me to tears. He has provoked me into drawing his face, to look at him countless times, even me, who finds it uncomfortable to draw others' faces. I have my brush up and my head down, and from time to time there are so many tears flowing down my face that I stop drawing and only cry silently. What connection do I have with this young man? Is it possible that he is alive right now? Did his mother smile as radiantly as he did? I am certain that he must have smiled like this all the time if he could smile so brightly at a South Korean soldier. Like any fine, considerate young man, he must have had a radiant smile. He is smiling, but I am teary as I draw him. And as I draw him, as though he is becoming me, or I am becoming him, I see his face exuding a light. The hat he wears has become a halo, and his smile is gone, replaced by tears. He is crying instead of me. I have become you, and you have become me, and you are crying. Crying from my gut. I have become you and you have become me, and in the midst of this we unite in our tears, which have taken on a golden hue. Golden tears, asking forgiveness for our murders—he is likely in heaven right now. Smiling through his golden tears.

*The year of the Panmunjeom axe murder incident

-2015 artist note in the exhibitionscatalog of Korean Culture Center in Berlin

Goldene Tränen                                                          Dezember 2014 Heryun Kim

Er lächelte in dem Foto. Während er stand, schien er die südkoreanischen Soldaten anzusehen und hinreißend zu lächeln, liebenswürdig. Der nordkoreanische Soldat neben ihm hielt eine Zigarette, aber er schaute die südkoreanischen Soldaten an und lächelte nur. Es ist ihm eine Spur von Verlegenheit anzumerken; seine Augen waren klein und gütig, und er sieht wie eine gute, ehrliche Person aus. Er wirkt nicht wie jemand, der einen anderen Menschen töten könnte. Seine entspannte Haltung und die schmalen Züge seines Gesichts sehen eher feminin als maskulin aus. Wer ist die Mutter dieses jungen Soldaten? Ich bin neugieriger über die Mutter als über den Vater. Liegt es daran, dass in meinen Augen die anmutigen Züge seines Gesichts eher feminin erscheinen? Oder liegt es daran, dass ich – die Person, die dieses Gesicht zeichnet – auch eine Mutter bin, mit einem bemitleidenswerten Sohn, der bald seinen Militärdienst antreten wird? Er lächelte. Aus der Szene auf dem Foto konnte ich schließen, dass der Schnappschuss aus der Zeit vor 1976* stammte; wenn das zutrifft, ist der Soldat heute zweifellos über 60 Jahre alt. Ist es möglich, dass er wegen dieses Fotos irgendwelchen Repressalien ausgesetzt war? Ist es möglich, dass er, weil er sich mit südkoreanischen Soldaten unterhielt - während er so strahlend darüber lächelte – und von einer südkoreanischen Kamera fotografiert wurde, verfolgt wurde? Bitte, mach, dass dies nicht der Fall ist. Mach, dass er nicht einer politischen Säuberungsaktion zum Opfer fiel. Er lächelte. Strahlend, in dem Foto. Ist es möglich, dass er jetzt in einem Konzentrationslager verhungert? Dass er krank wurde und starb? Er ist das Sujet meines Werks geworden und hat mich, der Mann auf dem Foto, gerade jetzt, zu Tränen gerührt. Er hat mich dazu veranlasst, sein Gesicht zu zeichnen, ihn unzählige Male anzuschauen, selbst mich, die ich mich unbehaglich fühle, die Gesichter anderer Menschen zu zeichnen. Mein Pinsel zeigt nach oben und mein Kopf nach unten, und von Zeit zu Zeit laufen so viele Tränen mein Gesicht herunter, dass ich das Zeichnen unterbreche und nur leise weine. Welche Beziehung habe ich zu diesem jungen Mann? Ist es möglich, dass er in diesem Augenblick am Leben ist? Hat seine Mutter auch so strahlend gelächelt wie er? Ich bin mir sicher, dass er die ganze Zeit so gelächelt haben muss, wenn er einen südkoreanischen Soldaten so fröhlich anlächeln konnte. Wie jeder feinsinnige, rücksichtsvolle junge Mann muss er ein strahlendes Lächeln gehabt haben. Er lächelt, aber ich bin traurig, als ich ihn zeichne. Und während ich ihn zeichne, als ob er sich in mich verwandelt oder ich mich in ihn, sehe ich, dass sein Gesicht ein Licht verströmt. Der Hut, den er trägt, hat sich in einen Heiligenschein verwandelt und sein Lächeln ist verschwunden, ersetzt durch Tränen. Er weint anstelle von mir. Ich bin du geworden, und du bist ich geworden, und du weinst. Weinst aus tiefstem Herzen. Ich bin du geworden und du bist ich geworden, und in der Mitte von alldem vereinen wir uns in unseren Tränen, die eine goldene Färbung angenommen haben. Goldene Tränen, die uns um Vergebung für unsere Mörder bitten – er ist wahrscheinlich jetzt im Himmel. Und lächelt durch seine goldenen Tränen.

*Das Jahr des Panmunjom-Axt-Mord-Vorfalls

-2015 Kuenstler Notizen in Ausstellungskatalog von Koreanisches Kulturzentrum Berlin