When Kim retired from the Post Office in Mountlake Terrace, she didn’t expect her next chapter would involve reviving centuries-old Korean craft tradition. Now in her eighties, Kim is devoted to the practice of hanjicraft—a traditional Korean mulberry paper art. For Kim, this art form is a quiet practice of cultural memory, patient discipline, and rooted in tradition that is shared across generations.
This spring and summer, visitors to the Bainbridge Island Museum of Art (BIMA) can see the layered sculptural works of artist Young Ok Kim – and maybe even have a rare opportunity to meet Kim, connect with her family, and even join her in crafting sessions. Young Ok Kim: Hanjicraft — Revival of a Joseon Dynasty Artform is on view at BIMA through June 5, 2025.
Kim was born in 1944 in what is now North Korea and raised in Busan and Seoul in postwar South Korea, a time when survival often overshadowed the arts. “At that time, it was about eating, and getting by,” Kim reflected. “Korea was a very poor country, there was no time for culture.” Postwar Korea’s primary concerns were survival and stability. The determination of Koreans in the Peninsula and in diaspora was a rough process that eventually transitioned into a thriving democratic nation.
Before emigrating, Kim was a pharmacist and ran her own pharmacy in Korea. But like many immigrants, she reshaped her career path upon arriving in the United States, becoming a U.S. federal postal worker while raising a family. It wasn’t until after retirement that she sought out a creative outlet after a hair-stylist introduced her to hanjicraft.
Kim began taking classes and gathered a small group of women to join her. Eventually, she became the only one who stayed. “I practiced every day without stopping,” she said. “Even late at night, after work or after dinner, I would cut paper, try new patterns.”
Kim’s daughter Grace Kim remembers this well. “My mom is very determined,” she said with a smile. “She would say, ‘Just a little more, just a little more,’ until her muscle memory was perfected. She practiced until her hands knew exactly what to do.”
The repetitive cutting, Kim said, became a kind of meditation. “When my mind is busy, or my heart feels heavy, I cut paper. Slowly, I feel calm again.”
Hanji is handmade mulberry paper, a traditional Joseon Dynasty material. Hanjicraft art historically involved paper cutting originally for royal households, who adorned everything from sliding doors and calligraphy backings to ornate furniture. Over time, middle and upper-class families might have incorporated hanji into dowry boxes called a haam, jewelry boxes, or utilitarian small tables called sobon (소반.) Kim has embraced this full range of hanjicraft’s decorative applications. Her artworks include sewing boxes, jewelry trays, wall screens, and cabinet structures, all intricately layered with colored paper, varnish, and devotion.
The meditative rhythm of hanji, combined with visual inspiration from Korean art and history books full of traditional motifs, fuels Young Ok’s process. She didn’t formally study art or aesthetics. She finds herself naturally drawn to vivid, intuitive color combinations. “Rainbow colors,” she said with a laugh. “Bright ones. Refreshing ones.”
Her daughter Grace Kim added: “Even if the structure is traditional, the way she combines colors makes the work contemporary. Her aesthetic is completely her own.”
One of Kim’s personal pieces, a two-sided screen with drawers, stands out. Despite its imperfections, it sold immediately at a show in Pioneer Square. “I hadn’t planned to sell it,” Kim admits. “But the buyer didn’t care that it wasn’t perfect.”
For Kim, several pieces in the exhibit reflect her journey of migration and resilience—from North Korea, through postwar Seoul, and into American life as a mother, professional, and artist. One piece is inspired by a painting created by her sister, Young Ju Park, in the traditional Geese and Reeds (노안도) genre. Beneath the hanji chest, the original book that inspired the painting is displayed, weaving shared creativity between the sisters. This work, like many in the exhibition, is deeply rooted in familial memory and artistic exchange.
There is an orange hanji nong (농), or clothing armoire: Tall Chest with Deer and Peacock Motif, 2004, that represents the culmination of Young’s completion from student into an expert artist. Another piece she is proud of is an embellished brown and cream hanji nong Tall Chest with the Zodiac Animals Motif, 2006, created two years later, which highlights her continued dedication to perfecting the skills.
Although Kim comes from a Christian family and her grandfather was a pastor, elements of Korean shamanism and ritual sometimes emerge in her work. “We were not shamanistic,” she says, “but I enjoy the cultural rituals, the aesthetic forms. My patterns may have those elements, but it’s not conscious. It’s the act of making that matters.”
There are a few pieces that represent intangible Korean rituals like the samul nori,사물놀 which involves the sounding of four traditional Korean percussion instruments: the kkwaenggwari (small gong), jing (large gong), janggu (hourglass drum), and buk (barrel drum), based on indigenous Muism, or shamanism. There are other pieces that highlight Chuseok, which is a did-Autumn festival, Thanksgiving, and Seollal, which is the Korean manifestation of Lunar New Year.
Today, Kim’s hanji practice is deeply social. Her workshops include participants from diverse backgrounds, including many Russian immigrants, and some Korean Americans seeking connection. “Now, our young Korean people are global citizens,” Kim reflected. “I do hope more young Koreans are inspired to create hanji.”
Western paper methods harmed hanji paper making in the 1880s, and the New Village Movement accelerated reduction of hanji production and existing structures adorned with the paper art. The paper artform has been declining in practice with younger generations in Korea. Materials are now harder to find. “Before, I could get everything in Seoul,” Kim says. “Now, I have to go into the countryside.”
Even so, hanjicraft has begun to attract international attention, as global audiences embrace Korean food, music, and art. Kim hopes young Koreans in diaspora, too, will reconnect with this heritage. “If I only do it for myself,” she says, “it feels self-indulgent. I feel bad keeping it to myself. This craft is too special not to be shared.”
