© Trent Kim, 2013

Re-describing Defiancewithin the Endangered

On Jindo Ssitgimgut

By Trent Kim

SupervisorMs. Ranjana Thapalyal

Submitted to the Glasgow School of Art in August 2013in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Research in Creative Practices

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M.Res in Creative Practices Stage 3

Submission Statement

NAME Trent Kim

DATE 23/August/2013

SUPERVISOR Ms. Ranjana Thapalyal

TITLE Re-describing Defiance within theEndangered: Ssitgimgut

MODE OF SUBMISSION (i.e. written researchpaper only research paper + practicalportfolio)

Research Paper + Practical Portfolio

MEDIA Light and Sound

SITE Crit Space/Lighthouse

VIEWING ARRANGEMENTS (if applicable)

SUMMARY/ RATIONALE (200 words maximum)

‘Re-describing a Defiance within the Endangered’ discusses the notion of ‘re-appropriation’

in historicity on the Korean native religion: Muism, and its endangered religious ceremony:Jindo Ssitgimkut. Chosen discussions on ‘religion’, ‘gender image’, and ‘documentation’have signified ‘Polyphony’ (multi-voices) within text (literatures on Muism and Ssitgimkut)and reveal a perspective of ‘Dialogism’, while sufficiently rationalizing the publicparticipatory art project ‘Compassional’. ‘Compassional’ carried out street interviews andcollected individual voices to construct a dialogic composition of voices to produce a smallscale audio-video installation. This research seeks to answer the ontological question about‘what am I not seeing something that exists and affects my perception invisibly or that whichexists within me but I am unable to identify?’, and a subsequently formed hypothesis that‘the status of being ‘endangered’ exhibits a defiance; and it is a matter of intertextualacknowledgement and not the idealised notion of extinction'.

Word Count: 6,350

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Abstract

This research paper critiques prevalent historicity of the Korean native religion: Muism and its

endangered ceremony: Jindo Ssitgimgut. By critically applying the literary theories of Mikhail

Bakhtin and the notion of ‘performativity’ articulated by Judith Butler, I have re-described the

fundamental ‘dialogism’ and ‘heteroglossia’ that can successfully deconstruct certain oppressive

categorisations (gender formation, types of Mu) and religious idealisations (Shamanism, Ecstasy)

shown in Muism literatures and ethnographic documentations. My ‘Polyphonic Triad Theory’

recapitulates the intertextual insights and visualises my own methodology. As an art portfolio to

accompany this paper, the project: Compassional confirms the validity of this knowledge in relation

to my own art practice as a light/media artist.

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Table of Contents

Submission Statement ............................................................................................................................1

Abstract...................................................................................................................................................2

List of Illustrations...................................................................................................................................4

Glossary...................................................................................................................................................5

Introduction ............................................................................................................................................6

1. The Notion of Muism ........................................................................................................................13

Erased Spirituality/Defeating Superstition .......................................................................................14

Reduced Spirituality ..........................................................................................................................15

2. Portrayal(s) of Tanggol: Unsexing .....................................................................................................18

3. Muism in Progress: Re-describing ‘Heteroglossia’............................................................................21

Polyphony .........................................................................................................................................22

Intertextuality ...................................................................................................................................23

Dialogism...........................................................................................................................................24

4. Project: Compassional.......................................................................................................................26

Conclusion.............................................................................................................................................27

Bibliography ..........................................................................................................................................29

Appendix: the Main Story and Selected Transcripts (Compassional) ...................................................32

The Story of the First Interview ........................................................................................................32

Transcript 1 .......................................................................................................................................32

Transcript 2 .......................................................................................................................................34

A digital copy of this paper is also included.

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List of Illustrations

Illustration 1: Binary Tension ................................................................................................................11

Illustration 2: Dialogic Triad ..................................................................................................................11

Illustration 3: Altitude to Binary Tension..............................................................................................12

Illustration 4: Polyphonic Triads ...........................................................................................................13

Illustration 5: Example of a Dialogic Triad (on Muism).........................................................................15

Illustration 6: (Reinstated) Binary Tension ...........................................................................................16

Illustration 8: Images of Mu ..................................................................................................................27

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Glossary

Carnivalistic/Carnivalisation (Bakhtin) A characteristic in literature that has been influenced / hasadapted from carnivalesque elements of carnival cultures, which isclosely related to ‘dialogism’.

Dialogism (Bakhtin) The theory that sees every utterance as a response toprevious utterances that subsequently identify other speakers (SeeHeteroglossia)

Double-voicedness (Bakhtin) The theory that decentralises a singular voice within textas every word had been used (arguably embedded with other voices)

Gut The term to refer to Muism ceremonies

Heteroglossia (Bakhtin) Other voices within text (opposite to Monoglossia)

Kangshinmu Muism ceremonial conductor who gains his/her religious statusthrough spontaneous spiritual contact and initiation

Koin Name used to refer to a male Seseupmu in Jindo’s regional language

Monoglossia (Bakhtin) Centralised/Idealised voice within text

Mu/Mudang Ceremonial conductors of Muism

Muism The native and oldest Korean Religion

Performativity (Butler) Illocutionary aspect of language in a sense how languageperforms to affect our behaviour (closely related to Austin’sUtterance)

Polyphony (Bakhtin) Plurality of speakers within literature that fundamentallydeconstruct ‘monoglossia’ to ‘heteroglossia’: equally recognisingmultiple voices

Seseupmu Muism ceremonial conductor who gains his/her religious statusthrough heredity (for Koin) or marriage (for Tanggol)

Shinnerim The spiritual initiation to become Kangshinmu

Ssitgimgut A particular Muism ceremony which deals with the conception ofdeath

Tanggol Name used to refer to a female Seseupmu in Jindo’s regionallanguage

Utterance (Austin) The concept of how language performs beyond itsconstative outlook

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Introduction

This thesis recognises the Korean Jindo Ssitgimgut ceremony as an ‘endangered1’ part of our present,

and argues why the status of ‘endangered’ should be viewed as a display of its defiance (or a kind of

will to thrive). This research suggests a unique model of an ethnographic inquiry by seeing this

endangered religious and cultural artefact as text of multiple voices (authors) hence a form of

dialogue. Among the different parts of Muism, I focus on the religious status of Muism, the body of

the Ssitgimgut ceremony conductor, and the religious narratives of Muism. Bakhtin’s literary

theories including ‘dialogism’, ‘polyphony’, and ‘carnivalisation’ strengthen this ethnographic

approach/methodology and Butler’s notion of ‘performativity’ is applied to clarify the notion of

‘endangering’ in an idealised social construct, but also to interdependently recognise being

endangered as defiance.

The verb in my title ‘re-describe’ (in Butler’s terms) refers to an act of seeing “possibilities that

already exist” and bridges the ‘polyphony’ of Bakhtin and the ‘performativity’ of Butler. It thus fuels

a post-colonial investigation to reveal potential causalities of the ‘endangered’ status, and re-enacts

the necessary dialogue that Muism lacks (Butler, 1999, p. 189).

Throughout this paper, ‘polyphonic triads theory’ will be presented that I have conceptually

envisioned while reading on Jindo Ssitgimgut through Bakhtin’s and Butler’s theories and resulting in

Compassional: a participatory public art project in Glasgow.

Let us begin with some basic information about Jindo Ssitgimgut and its religion: Muism. Jindo

Ssitgimgut is a religious ceremony that deals with the conception of death and is one of the

ceremonies within the native and longest surviving Korean religion: Muism. The word ‘Jindo’ refers

to the third largest island of South Korea which is located just off the south west corner of the

Korean peninsula and connected to the mainland by the circa 500 meter Jindo Degyo [Jindo Bridge]’.

The noun ‘Ssitgim’ in ‘Ssitgimgut’ is a passive noun form of ‘Ssitgi’ which is translated as ‘to

cleanse/purify (commonly used in a corporeal sense)’ therefore it is important to recognise that

even within the passive form, ‘Ssitgim’ usually implies a living counterpart who is in need of

assistance in purifying. I would like to suggest that Ssitgimgut should be translated as ‘the Muism

ceremony of purifying the dead (that differentiates the deceased from a corpse)’.

1This term ‘endangered’ equally refers to both physical and metaphysical objects that exist in a socially and

culturally forgotten status. The key rationale behind suggesting this term is to re-emphasise that theirexistences will not be terminated.

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The overall structure of Ssitgimgut proceedings is an expansive form of a dialogue, from a private

(family, kinship) to a public sphere (friends, neighbours, public), from memory to group composition:

dialogue2. Although Anttang is the first formal part of the ceremony, there is usually a dialogue

between the conductor, Tanggol and the requester prior to the start (M. Park, 2004).

The ceremony can be divided into three parts, firstly various gods are invited to deal with

prosperities of people in ‘this world’3, secondly in the presence of the gods the deceased (the soul of

the deceased) is being purified in three steps (symbolised by three kinds of water) by Tanggol, and

lastly, all the gods including the less important gods who remain in ‘this world’ are entertained

before their departure. Ordinary sequences4 in Jindo Ssitgimgut are as follows (seven acts):

1) Anttang, ritual in the inner room

2) Chogaman-sok, ritual of inviting the gods

3) Son-gut, ritual for the god of smallpox

4) Chesok-kut ritual for the god of prosperity

5) Chosang-gut ritual for the ancestor god

6) Ssitkimgut ritual for the dead

7) Chungchon treat for the miscellaneous spirits (M. Park, 2004, p. 328)

This ceremony begins in the evening and lasts several hours usually until Sun rises. A combination of

religious narrative, music and dance lead the ceremony and the atmosphere is informal and

conversational. During frequent breaks or even during the ceremony, many of the attendees

interact with Mu.

Some artistic persons (there are many, indeed, in various villages on Chindo [Jindo] Island!),

responding to the interlude singing of the ritualists, surprise the other audience members by

revealing their hidden talents. Swept up by the joyful mood, even the grief-ridden host and

hostess may burst out of laughing (M. Park, 2004, p. 337).

The ceremony functions as the preparation for dead, contextualisation of death, and by logical

extension, formation of a communal dialogue. This process could be superficially examined as

2Freud made a similar observation “Social instinct may not be a primitive one and insusceptible of dissection,

and that it may be possible to discover the beginnings of its development in a narrower circle, such as that ofthe family” (Freud, 2012a, pt. 50).3

In Muism, the universe is divided by ‘this world’ (where we live) and ‘that world’. Scholars like Lee suggestthat ‘that world’ is no more paradise than ‘this world’ (Lee, 1998, p. 198).4

If we divide these seven sections by the three parts discussed, the first part includes acts 1 to 5, the secondpart is act 6 , and the third part is act 7.

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Durkheim5 discusses how the notion of death is initially viewed as a communal threat, and a

religious activity suggests an opportunistic bonding through such a cause. I would caution that the

ceremony should be intertextually explored to find its polyphonic nature through its historical

context and literary depth.

This ceremony has been conducted by Muism priestesses [Tanggol] whose religious status is only

secured through a combination of heredity and marriage. The passing of the last remaining Tanggol,

Jeongre Che, currently in her 90s, will signify the end of an era.

The term ‘Tanggol’ comes from the Jindo regional language and refers to a particular type of Muism

ceremonial conductor in a broader context. In a wider demography, the conductors are known as

‘Mu’ (or ‘Mudang’) and commonly divided into ‘Kangshinmu’ [spontaneous Mu] and ‘Seseupmu’

[hereditary Mu].

Table 1: Differences in the Two Types of Muism Conductors

Kangshinmu Seseupmu

Religious Initiation Become Mu spontaneously by self-claiming a spiritual contact (whichoften causes a non-diagnosablemedical condition known as‘Shinbyeong’ [god sickness] andthrough consultation with a‘Shineumma’ [god mother]. Anofficial initiation ceremony known as‘Shinnerim’ [receiving spirit/god]completes Kangshinmu’s initiation.

Become Mu hereditarily throughbloodline. Since the ConfucianistJoseon Dynasty, the combination ofpaternal heredity (from father to son)and marriage into the family hasbecome common; through this thedaughter-in-law officially receives thereligious status of ‘Seseupmu’. Pleasenote that the occupation-based classsystem in place during the JoseonDynasty usually resulted in marriagesbetween families of ‘Seseupmu’.

Demographics(early 20th century)

Typically found in the Northern partof the Korean peninsula (North ofthe Han River which dissects the cityof Seoul)

Typically found in the Southern part ofthe Korean peninsula (South of theHan River which dissects the city ofSeoul)

Retrospectively, this categorisation is rationalised through two opposing theories on formation of

these two types; while Gilseong Choe suggests that the different types were born out of two distinct

religious influxes (Shaman type in the North and Religion type in the South), Taegon Kim suggests

that the different types have gradually appeared over time which fundamentally points towards

both branches of Muism sharing the same root. As Jongseung Yang confirms in his article, no

historical literature (prior to the Japanese colonisation of Korea [1910-1945]) mentions such types of

5Durkheim’s text in ‘Elementary forms of religious life’ will be later discussed in relation to the notion of

religion in section one of this paper.

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Mu and these two widely accepted (and rather speculative) theories are simply based on the early

ethnographic research that first began in the time of Japan’s colonisation of Korea (Hanguk

musokhakhoe, 2006). Therefore, I would argue that the differences used to form the categorisation

of Mu are only valid in relation to that historic period, hence any generalisation based solely on

those would be inappropriate. Yang parallels my view and elaborates the same argument further by

demonstrating reported cases of spontaneous initiations from the hereditary Mu and also how the

definition of Shamanism developed by Underwood, Clark and Eliade has been used yet

misrepresented to form the categorisation; Eliade viewed ‘ecstasy’ as a particular technique in

Shamanism practices therefore not as the essential requirement which legitimises Shamanism

practitioners. Although Yang’s article is an important and rare remark in the field of Muism, the

ideal of Shamanism seems to overrule his argument and leaves the hereditary Mu seemingly

desperate to be a part of the current Muism that is so dominated by spontaneous Mu under the

narrowly defined notion of Shamanism.

In contrast, my reading on Jindo Ssitgimgut has repeatedly returned to one simple question ‘Why

does Jindo Ssitgimgut matter to me?’ Perhaps, this could be interpreted as an ontological question

about what I am not seeing, something that exists and affects my perception invisibly, or that which

exists within me that I am unable to identify. To answer this question in this essay, I propose that

this endangered part of the present speaks for itself and this very act should be regarded as a form

of utterance in the same sense in which J L Austin uses the term in his article ‘Performative

Utterances’. J L Austin explains the notion of ‘utterances’ as follows:

Utterances can be found, satisfying these conditions, yet such that

A. they do not ‘describe’ or ‘report’ or constate anything at all, are not ‘true or false’; and

B. the uttering of the sentence is, or is a part of, the doing of an action, which again would

not normally be described as saying something (Austin, 1962, p. 5).

In ‘Excitable Speech’, Butler critiques Austin’s notion of “Total Speech Situation” by suggesting the

impossibility of determining a “totalized form in any of its given instances” (especially in regards to

how some degree of uncertainty exists in illocutionary utterances) as Austin suggests locating

oneself within “Total Speech Situation” is required to understand its performative effects (Butler,

1997, p. 3). I wish to interpret Butler’s argument as a need to keep an open-end against the

definitive view on the context of uttering so that a further response/interpretation can be invited,

hence a form of dialogue can be constructed (or arguably continued). However, I wish to expand the

open-end by re-recognising Austin’s “Total Speech Situation” as countable (therefore plural-able) co-

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existing viewpoints that exist in the past, future but also equally importantly in other voices. I would

argue that those plural viewpoints are equally referential regardless whether it is believed to be the

view or “dismissed as nonsense”, as its “movement” signifies its individual speech context (Austin,

Urmson, & Warnock, 1979, p. 234).

This special polyphonic nature of utterances interests me as it purports its defiance and in return, I

desire to initiate a very personal dialogue with Jindo Ssitgimgut to confirm the sensed defiance

through various speech contexts. In order to do this, I have applied a literary theory ‘dialogism’,

articulated by Bakhtin, to focus on the multiplicity of meanings of a text, and to see ‘text’ in a

broader sense from a word and phrase to the narratives and music of Jindo Ssitgimgut. Amplifying

the existent defiance requires, somewhat ironically, listening to destructive ideals that have

tempered readings of Jindo Ssitgimgut and responding with a different interpretation or

interpretations. This dialogic methodology aims to deconstruct a monologic framework that in

Bakhtin’s terms means the speech structure of monologue which “is addressed to no one and does

not presuppose a response” (Bakhtin, Holquist, & Emerson, 1986, p. 117). The danger of the

monologic framework is the fact that it can employ a different narrator or narrators to transmit the

idealised thought which can be mistaken as being dialogic6. In a similar sense, Bakhtin uses the term

‘monoglossia’ as ‘single voiced-ness’ as opposed to ‘heteroglossia’ (other voiced-ness).

‘Heteroglossia’ decentralises ‘monoglossia’ hence this arguably also recognises the voice of

‘monoglossia’ as a part of ‘polyphony’ (plurality of voices). In other words, this decentralising should

not be used to discriminate the once centralised view against the re-described polyphonic views as

reading the ‘monoglossia’ is essential for us to identify a binary tension (see Illustration 1) to build a

dialogic triad (see Illustration 2).

6This does not necessarily mean that the text in a direct and indirect mode of monologue cannot be dialogical

as Kristeva discusses the notion of “dialogue-monologue” in Bakhtin’s theory (Kristeva, 1980, p. 67).

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Illustration 1: Binary Tension

Illustration 2: Dialogic Triad

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‘Polyphonic triads theory’ visualises my approach in intertextual inquiries. The term ‘triad’ was

inspired by its musical definition: a structure of a musical chord that realises the idea of unifying

three different notes into a harmonised/organised group. The flexibility of inversions (for musical

chords) allows me to envisage dynamic subjectivisations within a dialogue, hence, this musical chord

structure was transformed into ‘polyphonic triads theory’. With the notion of

major/minor/diminished, there is scope to develop this further, but for this paper, I have decided to

try out the current theory.

Ideals we see in the triad are conflicting values behind ‘utterance’. Without a conflict of values,

language does not need to perform to affect our thought or behaviours, because if so, the value can

be simply described as there will be no opposition. This opposition should not be confused with

duality of language which is associated with hidden meanings of utterance as seemingly factual

speech can be also performative.

Binary tension is like a ruler that measures/judges a target between the two ideals, and those ideals

‘other’ the target. However, the target escapes from this binary tension by placing itself between

two new (re-described) ideals, and the distance between the original position and the new position

which is referred to as ‘altitude’ (see Illustration 3).

Illustration 3: Altitude to Binary Tension

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It is important to note that ‘altitude’ travels three dimensionally to keep each of the binary tensions

of the triad at an equal distance. All the positions of the target remain which means that the target

constantly multiplies to form ‘polyphonic triads’ (see Illustration 4).

Illustration 4: Polyphonic Triads

No two positions of the target will synchronise to complete a three dimensional figure, but the more

the better to learn more about the target. This theory is a methodology for me to decentralise

‘monoglossia’ to begin sketching out a portrayal of Tanggol and Jindo Ssitgimkut ceremony.

1. The Notion of Muism

Considering the word ‘spirituality’, a challenge emerges for one who takes on a research project on a

religious subject. This section will identify conflicting views on Muism and Jindo Ssitgimgut and

attempt to deconstruct the current monologic framework within the religion.

Firstly, this process begins with the co-existing terminologies used to refer to Muism. Musok and

Mukyo are the Korean terms for this native religion of Korea of which Ssitgimgut is a ceremony. The

distinction between those terms suggests a certain divisiveness which is clearly evidenced

etymologically.

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The character ‘Kyo’ in Mukyo confers on Mu (by implication) the status of a religion, as we see from

the titles of other established religions in the Korean language (such as Gidokgyo [Christianity],

Bulgyo [Buddhism], and Yugyo [Confucianism]). The character ‘Sok’ in Musok, on the other hand,

confers on Mu the status of a set of customs: a secular outlook, albeit stemming from religious

practices. However, my primary concerns lie in two aspects, firstly, how Sok is also used to refer to

something lowbrow or profane in a certain religious context, presumably to label secular life inferior

in comparison to a spiritual/religious one. Secondly, the notion of the religion found in Mukyo is

rather narrowly defined on the basis of spiritual initiation, which subsequently discriminates against

a certain part of the religion (as earlier discussed in relation to ‘ecstasy’).

Erased Spirituality/Defeating Superstition

Some Korean ethnographers believe ‘god sickness’7 to be the first condition in becoming Mu and

poses a political utterance that is easily identifiable in the context of current Muism practices where

different types of Mu coexist. For instance, Taegon Kim describes Seseupmu in relation to the

assumed loss of spirituality.

Seseupmu became differentiated and socially institutionalised, and it seems for the power of

spirituality to have been sifted out (Kim, 1994, p. 213).

The first generation of ethnographic studies on Muism began in the colonial era [1910-1945] by

Japanese scholars like Akiba and Akamatsu and Korean scholars like Yi8. One of interesting facts to

consider is these Japanese ethnographers refer the hereditary Mu as official Mu and the statistics

indicate the population of hereditary Mu was three time bigger than the spontaneous Mu, and these

facts are rarely found in literatures.

The absence of god sickness cannot prove the absence of religious spirituality, therefore, the

categorisation itself contains a political utterance to almost erase the existing spirituality in Muism

practices by Seseupmu. My argument here is not to defend the hereditary Mu but to destabilise the

binary tension (created between the conveniently re-defined Shamanism and the absence of

spirituality that is ironically justified by the very same Shamanism). Thus, different altitudes can rise

7So-called ‘god sickness’ is a rite of passage towards a full spiritual initiation and is said to be a physical

condition that can only heal by accepting the sickness through a spiritual initiation ceremony called ‘Nerimgut’[Muism ceremony to receive god]8

Nung-hwa Yi published ‘Joseon Musokgo’ which covers from the foundation of Korea in BCE 2333 but it isimportant to know this article was published in the 19

thissue of ‘Kyemyeong’ a politically motivated journal

under ‘national enlightenment’ (Yi, 2008, p. 39).

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such as an inquiry on a linguistic system between Mu and Gods in Muism and a history of

exchanges/heredity9 between Seseupmu and Kangshinmu.

Reduced Spirituality

In the case of Muism, a different dialogic triad can be revealed by analysing the relationship between

Shamanism (that defines Muism) and non-disputable type of religions (see Illustration 5).

Illustration 5: Example of a Dialogic Triad (on Muism)

9Park discussed the degenerative tendency of improvisational elements in Ssitgimgut ceremony through the

migrant Kangshinmu practices in her article “Improvisation of Korean Shaman: a study of degenerative aspect”(M. Park, 2002).

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Illustration 6: (Reinstated) Binary Tension

For instance, the particular notion of spirituality (that idealises Kangshinmu practices) is a reduced

form of religion (the third ‘ideal’ from the left in Illustration 6). Subsequently, Seseupmu practices

are the second ‘ideal’ representing an-other within the otherised (Kangshinmu practices), in the

reinstated binary tension between the absence of spirituality and the idealised notion of religion

(see Illustration 6). In a similar way, Bell Hooks and Frantz Fanon recognise new elites within the

other that I would like to argue how the otherness within can be explained within Muism (Fanon,

1967; Hooks, 2000).

The view discriminates against Muism and suggests the reducibility of religion via Shamanism. For

instance, Kim uses the term Godeung Jongkyo [high religion] for Christianity and Buddhism while

using the term ‘Wonshi Jongkyo’ [archaic religion] to refer to Muism; and Hogarth uses phrases like

‘a simple religious practice in a homogeneous tribal society’, ‘such an archaic religious

phenomenon10, as shamanism’ to describe Muism practices (Hogarth, 1998, p. 11; Kim, 1994, p. 226).

Those terminologies used express a rather confused definition of shamanism between being a

distinctive type of belief system (yet reduced from religion) and being a religious characteristic in

10A number of scholars refuse to acknowledge Muism as “an organized religion” (Hogarth, 1998, p. 24; Yi,

2008)

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general terms. However, the coherent problem is the utterance behind the term ‘Wonshi’ [archaic].

In the Korean language it refers to ‘the time of beginning’ or ‘unchanged status from the time of

beginning’, and in this context, it is not an accurate statement to state the originated time of the

religion, but rather an implication (rather explicitly) to express a lack of civilisation, consciousness

and contemporality11.

In this book, we propose to study the most primitive and simplest religion currently known,

to analyse it and attempt to explain it…It pursues knowledge of the earlier forms of

civilization not only to know them and reconstruct them, but, like all positive science, its goal

is first and foremost to explain a current reality, something close to us and consequently

capable of affecting our ideas and actions (Durkheim, 2008, p. 3).

Durkheim shares the same view towards certain religions, but also sees them as a destined step

which once Western civilisation had experienced. Such a sociological and archaeological approach

of stereotyping other religions into an ideal of primitive religion has arguably formed a reduced form

of religion like Shamanism that falsely categorises certain religions as incongruous with their present

existence. The act of this new categorisation rationalises why certain religions should be forgotten

from our history, consigned to exist only in ancient history books as mere traces of the past.

Therefore, the undeniable fact that the religion exists presently in current history is somehow

deleted from our social memory (Halbwachs, 1992).

The Tungusic belief system12 (that was first documented by Russians in the late 17th century, and out

of which Korean Muism scholars in general believe Muism originated), having died out (Hogarth,

1998, p. 1), it is important to ask how Durkheimian views on certain religions like Shamanism are

related to their near extinction (as an extreme condition of the endangered). This is because such a

sociological idealisation supports the notion of primitive religion which views those religions as

pertaining to the past.

A similar criticism was made by Butler on “phantasmatic construction”13 which needs to be

contested by “immanent possibilities” which I believe are the keys to revealing the defiance of the

11The term ‘contemporality’ in this paper refers to its relevance to our current temporality and historicity.

12In Tungusic language, ‘shaman’ refers to a religious practitioner, and ‘Shamanism’ is believed to have been

based on the language.13

Freud shares a similar view in his study on “the aborigines of the youngest continent, namely Australia” bychallenging the “ethnographists” view on the people as “being most backward and wretched”, when heresolves that “in a certain sense he [the primitive man within us] is still our contemporary” (Freud, 2012b, pt.106,112). In relation to Freud’s ideas on human memory: “disinclination and inability to remember”, theprimitive man is the endangered yet is contemporary (Freud, 2012a, pt. 122). Therefore, as Foster argues that

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endangered (Butler, 1999, p. 181,188). The idealised framework seeks to sustain its stability and

therefore it sees otherness as a problem. Butler’s view clearly shows the need to de-problematise

otherness, and decentralise the idealised view in different layers by acknowledging internally

embedded voices.

The feminist “we” is always and only a phantasmatic construction, one that has its purposes,

but which denies the internal complexity and indeterminacy of the term and constitutes

itself only through the exclusion of some part of the constituency that it simultaneously

seeks to represent (Butler, 1999, p. 181).

Bakhtin’s polyphony offers opportunities to deconstruct text in different dimensions which I referred

to as ‘altitude’ in my ‘dialogic triad’ and with the notion of ‘dialogism’, this intertextual exploration

can further expand by identifying “addressers” who then invite “addressees” (Allen, 2000, p. 11).

2. Portrayal(s) of Tanggol: Unsexing14

In the previous sections, we discussed an erasure of an ideal, a reduction of an ideal as politically

motivated utterances. In this section, we will discuss formation of false ideal: femininity in Muism.

In terms of ‘polyphonic triads theory’, the binary tension of false ideals does not differ from any

other binary tensions. This is because even false ideals form an equally valuable view and conversely

speaking, every ideal is false as an act of idealisation is false.

In Jindo Ssitgimgut, there are two strong aspects that should have deterred the idea of gender

formation in Muism, firstly, its non-gender specificity for Muism ceremonial conductors as in a

historical context, it varied from a male theocratic leader and a female/male Mu but also secondly,

the traces of ‘carnivalesque’15 within the Muism ceremonies. ‘Carnivalistic’ is another important

term that Bakhtin applied to reveal how certain literatures have adapted polyphonic nature from a

carnival tradition. This does not mean that I am attempting to secularise Muism ceremonies as a

form of carnival but rather I wish to recognise its ‘carnivalistic’ elements. I would argue that the

changes of social class for Mu from a theocratic leader to the untouchable have generated a

degradation of Muism and have formed a view of seeing it as a parody of religion. Some practices of

Freud’s psychoanalytic view objects “the primitivist fantasy” which arguably founds the Durkheim’s view (HalFoster, 1996, p. 178).14

The term ‘unsexing’ refers to the act of deconstructing femininity.15

“Carnival for Bakhtin, ‘carnivalesque’ forces in society are connected to popular forms of literature andlanguage which disrupt the dominant order and monologic view of society and language promoted bydominant power groups” (Allen, 2000, p. 203).

19

Muism (mainly by spontaneous Mu) even feature classic examples of Bakhtin’s ‘grotesque body’

through drinking animal blood, eating raw meat, and dancing while wearing the skin of a dead

animal to somehow materialise the sacred. Despite of these aspects of Muism, the gender

formation of femininity perpetuates in Muism.

In the recent film Mul-Go-Gi [A Fish] set in Jindo, the main character ‘Hyeok Jeon’ (a bodily departed

soul who has yet to realise his own death) visits Jindo to find his wife (who becomes Mu after the

death of her husband). ‘Hyeok Jeon’ meets ‘Shinso Heung’, a character who is his implied spiritual

companion. Shinso says “For me, Mudang [Tanggol] is sexual, spirit and Mudang…” in a scene which

culminates in Hyeok accusing Shinso of having had sexual intercourse with his wife, but contextually

implied as a forced sexual act (H. Park, 2013). Hogarth also discussed the sexual relationship

between Mu and spirits/gods which resonates this similar passivity.

The relationships between the shamans and the spirits are sometimes described as sexual,

the latter demanding sexual favours of the former from time to time, which ascribed to the

high rate of marriage breakup among Mudang (Hogarth, 1998, p. 172).

Through an act of sex, the image of femininity is translated as passivity and inferiority, therefore

invites masculinity as its superior counterparts: spirits/gods. Here, female corporeality overrules the

unsexed successor of the theocratic leader.

Yi confirms that the old term Ung refers to Mu. It is important to recognise the term ‘Ung’ appears

in various guises in the history of Korea, since the oldest kingdom of Korea: Go-Joseon was

established in BCE 2333, to the kingdom of Shilla [BCE 57 – CE 935]. For instance, there were Hoan-

Ung who is the son of God and the father of Dangun16: ‘Ung-Nyeo’ who was the wife of Dangun and

also ‘Cha-cha-ung’ who was a theocratic leader in Shilla (Yi, 2008, p. 71,93). These names surely do

not imply any association with a biological female gender; which goes a way to demonstrate the

gender formation as a form of political utterance.

The similar kind of utterances are found in other ethnographic case studies, for instance, Varutti tells

us how femininity was deployed to impose certain values such as “young, silent, passive, remissive,

non-demanding and non-threatening” in figurine displays representing the Dai ethnicity, held at the

Yunnan Nationalities Museum in China (Guntarik, 2010, p. 332).17

16Samkukyusa (1281) describes how Dangun became the god of mountain at the age of 1908. Historians view

Dangun as a title of political leader, therefore 1908 could be viewed as a length of a particular political system.17

The manipulated binary tensions (reduced and falsely constructed) that we have discussed so far, can befound in Oedipus Rex, that strategically undermines the feminine body of the mother (Jocasta) as passive and

20

Most of the mannequins used in displays represent young ethnic minority women… among

the other, by a reduced-sized diorama showing three breast-bare female figurines washing

their hair in a forest environment (Guntarik, 2010, p. 332).

Feminisation continues in the way Muism was idealised internally to censor supposed anomalies by

highlighting the uncommon conditions that indirectly suggest the loss of spirituality by the absence

of ecstasy.

They believe that the hereditary position of shaman became an inherited and established

tradition, the pressure to maintain the standard of some of the more profound ecstatic

techniques may have been lost. They suggest that the reason for the existence of hereditary

Mudang in southern Korea is the comparatively stable environment (M. Park, 2004, p. 303).

Lee examined the hereditary transmission in relation to paternal-centric Confucianism which

arguably to some extent, would have lessened the degree of femininity (Lee, 2002). However,

ironically many scholars like Kendall and Park use the term ‘charismatic’ to describe Kangshinmu, as

opposed to ‘hereditary’ to describe Tanggol (Kendall, 2009; M. Park, 2004). As mentioned in the

introduction, none of the historical literatures distinguish different types of Mu, therefore I would

argue that terms such as ‘charismatic’ are chosen to imply the ideal type of Mu, and this is the

reason why the word ‘charismatic’ is re-appropriated by ‘spontaneous’ in this paper.

This political utterance of ‘femininity’ also targets the followers of Muism. For instance, Choe, in his

journal article (published in English), argues that one of the reasons for the large number of female

followers “was that females were less educated than males, and therefore had fewer chances to

come into contact with other higher religions, especially Confucianism, Buddhism, Christianity”

(Choe, 1989, p. 385). His argument immediately contradicts itself as he confirms that “women are

not allowed to perform in the ritual service for the ancestor or ancestress”, as Confucianism posed

restrictions at the outset for the religious participation of women (Choe, 1989, p. 386).

The gender formation is also used to curb the power of Mu by reinforcing another negative

femininity that can be evidenced by the Korean adjective Yomanghan.

inferior (= femininity of Muism), and body of the son (Oedipus) as childish (= Seseupmu), that differs from theyouthful male of Apollo (=the religion), and this could explain why the incest taboo still influences a number offeminist theories a great deal (Sophocles, Kitto, & Hall, 2008). This ‘monoglossia’ does not come from thefather (Laius(=Shamanism)) but the authoritative male figure, Apollo. The narrator of the monologue (ofApollo), the Oracle of Delphi is deployed to hint at this configuration set by the eyes of Apollo. Perhaps, in‘Massacre in Korea’ by Picasso how the Korean people as a nation were illustrated in female and child bodiesjuxtaposed against armed masculine bodies, can be interpreted as an allusion to represent how the nativereligion: Muism seems so powerless against the Eurocentric sociological and religious view.

21

In Munheonbigo, a particular word is used to describe ‘Yo-Mang’ which is conjoined between ‘Yosa’

[cunningness, slyness, deceitfulness] and ‘Mangryeong’ [abnormal behaviour/speech due to mental

instability or age] (Yi, 2008, p. 134). This negative femininity is even applied to a male Mu that was

once known as ‘Hoa-Rang’ in Joseon Oangjo Shillok [Annals of Joseon Dynasty].

There are men called ‘Hoa-Rang’ who resemble female Mu as they obtain riches by trickery

(Yi, 2008, p. 77).

This kind of gender formation continued under the slogan of ‘anti-superstition’ led by premature

modernity18 throughout the era of Japanese colonisation, to the radical modernisation in the 1970s

and 1980s led by the Korean government. Media coverage was also an effective tool to project such

ideas, and had often generalised Muism by a particular event that fatally degraded Muism practice.

Although the negative impacts of superstitious acts were minimal, media journalism

expressed the unintelligibility of the majority of public (Gang, 2008, p. 170).

The portrayal of Kangshinmu by Elizabeth Keith shows a very similar negative femininity, however

Keith’s book is interesting as her texts remain fairly sympathetic to oppressed females who she met

on her journeys in Korea, and yet her drawing portrays a different view of the female Mu, notable by

the title of the drawing – “the Sorceress Dancing” (Keith, 1946). In some parts of Keith’s text

(particularly in her third chapter) it is noticeable that the terms ‘sorceress’ and ‘priestess’ are mixed-

used to refer to Mu; and the presence of Mu in the ceremony that she had attended was described

often with a positive femininity by phrases like “sundry affectionate pats”, “motherly pats”, and

“motherly priestess” (Keith, 1946, p. 26).

This mixed image of femininity is the true response to Mu as gender formation is false in principle

and eventually leads us to think about whether the gender formation of femininity was even

necessary at all.

3. Muism in Progress: Re-describing ‘Heteroglossia’

In this part, I wish to focus on finding polyphonic speakers within the story of Princess Bari and the

narratives and ceremony of Jindo Ssitgimgut which will demonstrate the notion of dialogism through

the body of Tanggol.

18The term ‘premature modernity’ refers to an irrational / indiscriminate introduction of modernity without

consideration of the pre-existing context.

22

A common translation for Ssitgimgut is ‘the ritual for the dead’ which defines whom the ritual is for,

however on closer investigation this object (who then becomes a subject as a conceptual speaker) is

only one of the polyphonic speakers appearing in this ceremony. The discussion can start by

discussing ‘double-voicedness’ in singing, instrumental music and dance of Ssitgimgut.

In Chogamangseok (the second act of Jindo Ssitgimgut), the tonal contrast between Tanggol and

Koin is apparent as while Tanggol delivers a saddened and reserved singing, Koin would respond

Tanggol’s singing with a dynamic and cheerful refrain (Hwang, 2001, p. 42). The musical instruments

such as Janggo (a type of drum) and Jing (a type of gong) have distinctive dual tones ‘hard’ and ‘soft’,

and ‘soft’ and ‘louder’. Further, Tanggol’s restrained dance that reminds us of a “white sea-bird”

contrasts with Koin’s dynamic musical accompaniment (Hwang, 2001, p. 42; M. Park, 2004, p. 336).

These dualities re-enact the voice of sorrow, and the voice of prosperity that mirror different

individuals in the ceremony.

Through the body of TanggoI which is a religious conductor, a ‘carnivalistic’ agency emerges, then

we soon realise the very same body also represents voices of Mu embedded in the ceremony

through history. The body of Mu signifies polyphony of the narrative as the author, narrator, a

performer of being a narrator, a representative of other narrators, a performer of characters and a

mediator of other participants (spectators).

Polyphony

The polyphonic speakers can also be discussed around the heroic character who appears in the best

known Muism narrative: Princess Bari, the story of the first Mu. This particular narrative appears in

Muism ceremonies like Jiogigut19 and Ogugut20 and the primary plot of the story tells of her journey

to a sacred location and her return in order to save her father’s life. Her father, the king, had

abandoned his seventh daughter, Princess Bari. Choe emphasizes the sacred location as the world of

god, and insists the journey of Princess Bari as a process of overcoming her obstacles to become a

godly being; therefore it represents the transition from death to a new spiritual life (Choe, 1989, pp.

286–287). Choe’s literal translation is valid in supporting the link between the story and the birth of

the first Mu and its appearance within Muism ceremonies in relation to the conception of death.

But, the narrative requires further contextualisation in relation to the ceremony, but also as being a

text of texts.

19Jinogigut is a Muism ceremony conducted in the Seoul region which deals with the conception of death

20Ogugut is also a Muism ceremony that deals with the concept of death and is found in the East and South

coast regions of the Korean peninsula.

23

People who know the inside of [Tanggol] would offer rice, barley, and money to Tanggol.

Afterwards if you sit and listen, delivered [the narrative/performance] so sorrowfully so that

people showed their tears (Lee, 1998, p. 81).

Lee in his interview transcripts with the spectators (who watched the performance about Princess

Bari by Tanggol) suggests the duality of the Muism narratives as a literature, one to ‘entertain’ gods,

and the other to ‘entertain’ people. If we recognise the coexistence of the narrator of Princess Bari,

the character of Princess Bari, Tanggol, and reflections of spectators via the body of Tanggol, other

voices might emerge from the transcripts. For instance, the transition from giving a form of alms to

sharing tears is an example to show how the body of Tanggol changed from the heroic character:

Princess Bari as a sympathetic other, to carnivalistic Princess Bari as to mirror the sympathetic

Tanggol and perhaps spectators. In contrast, for some spectators, Tanggol would have remained as

the narrator of the story that obliterates the self of Tanggol. In the documentary film Yeongmae, we

witness Jeongre Che (the last Tanggol of Jindo) conducting a Ssitgimgut ceremony for her recently

deceased elder sister (who also devoted her life as Tanggol), during the early part of the ceremony,

she bursts into tears while singing for ancestor gods (K. Park, 2003). This reveals the most

endangered part of Tanggol as being herself as the youngest daughter of her family.

Intertextuality

The story of Princess Bari can be intertextualised by identifying different texts within the story. In

the story, Princess Bari obtains from the sacred location ‘water’, which brings the king back to

life/allows the king to pass freely to the afterlife21. Choe argues that the role of ‘water’ in the story

reflects the idea of Yaksu [translated as ‘medical water’], based on a superficial observation to

rationalise the literal translation of the story by suggesting a link to Taoism customs, where water is

worshipped.

However, such an observation needs substantial further investigation to avoid its superficial image

making of Muism an oblivious recipient of other religious influences. Oldmeadow explains the

philosophical associations between Taoism and water beyond such speculation on two accounts.

Firstly, the concept of ‘Wu Wei’ which describes the co-existence between ‘the basic life force’ and

interdependency between the force and objects is closely portrayed by how the water moves; and

21The notion of resurrection is told in a poetic manner therefore the life given by the sacred water is open to

interpretation.

24

secondly, how the basic force ‘Tao’ works can be seen by ‘the way water adapts itself to its

surroundings and seeks out the lowest places’ (Oldmeadow, 2007, p. 108).

Some people would argue that this is a dogmatic interpretation as Tanggol who is the storyteller

might not be aware of such links and implications. However, this accusation comes from a

monologic perspective of the notion of author which is especially problematic in an oral transmission

based (arguably a dialogic transmission based) religion like Muism.

Dialogism

The term ‘Tanggol’ is often suffixed by Ne in Jindo, ‘Ne’ is a suffix in Korean which is used to

reference relationships existing at equal social levels and this itself offers a unique religious context,

quite unlike the relationship between a Roman Catholic priest and a sinner in the confessional.

The audio transcript by Park from 23 January 1982 uniquely contains a sense of scene unlike most

audio transcripts that remind me of studio recording tracks. The scene is discursive of polyphonic

voices that are religious, ceremonial, conversational, communal, local and human. The transcript

still centres around Cheooligi of Songut (the third act of Jindo Ssitgimgut) conducted by Samdan Han

(the name of Tanggol) but captures ‘heteroglossia’ (M. Park, 2004, p. 213).

In the recording, there are contrasting tonalities between the religious narratives and conversational

speech by Tanggol. While the religious narratives use a classical and upper class language, Tanggol’s

conversational speech22 explicitly takes the form of the regional language of Jindo through its unique

vocabularies, grammar and intonations. Tanggol temporarily leaves her role as the ceremonial

conductor and joins the chat of the spectators; for instance, where she says “the son can only

donate what he can, why not the daughters donate some?” The scene is discursive, and the content

of the dialogue between spectators can be quite irrelevant to the narrative of the ceremony such as

“I am good at giving birth!”, “You should have a daughter” and “Two daughters”. Tanggol also

initiates conversations on an irrelevant subject to represent another voice: Mengin23 which reflected

the financial instability of their practices in the early 1980s as the victims of the anti-superstition

movement24. Therefore their alms-giving tradition must have been challenged by a capitalist mode,

22The different tonalities of the voices in the scene demands an intertextual inquiry, in the same way as the

combination of Scottish English and the official English that implies the voice of “self-consciously literarylanguage of Edinburgh society” of the period in Robert Burns’ ‘A Red, Red Rose’ (Allen, 2000, p. 19).23

Mengin is a blind fortune teller in Jindo who often attends Muism ceremonies.24

Semaeul Undong [New Village Campaign] initiated by the South Korean government in 1971 (lasted until the1980s) led a nationwide enlightenment movement under modernity. This radical economic movement has

25

perhaps as a result of Korea’s premature modernity. Tanggol says “it is a courtesy to donate some

money to Mengin during Songut”. While some parts of the dialogue shows the transition of the

Confucian idea of economic responsibility of male family members in the 1980s, a middle-aged

woman in the crowd says “stop telling the useless [as in, financially inactive] daughters to donate”.

Polyphonic voices in Jindo Ssitgimgut also appear in dance and music. There are ‘carnivalistic’

elements, as the dance in the third part of Sonnimgut25 reveals, a form of parody of the god of

smallpox (M. Park, 2004, p. 336). This could be viewed as how certain types of gods were chosen to

contextualise death, or more precisely to encourage individual participation in this group

composition on the subject of health.

In current Muism by Kangshinmu, we find the catalysts for some ceremonies are modern-day types

of prosperities (such as entering university, or becoming president). It is hard to imagine that Muism

in the Gojoseon era would have recognised the god of smallpox in the same way as today (either

language-wise or ceremonial format-wise) as Muism evolves over time. At the same time it is

confusing to see the current Jindo Ssitgimgut where the god of smallpox is still to be found, although

the disease is no longer a fatal threat to our general health. This perhaps is the result of systematic

oppression through the Japanese occupation, US military occupation, and radical modernisation led

by military governments until the 1980s which coherently shouted out ‘anti-superstition’. Without

these oppressive influences, we may very well have seen the god of smallpox substituted for the god

of cancer. Hwang states that in Jindo Ssitgimgut, Sonimgut is sometimes called ‘Mashiligut’ which

comes from the regional term ‘Mashil’ [visiting friends]. Therefore the god of smallpox can be

replaced by the spirits of close friends of the dead (Hwang, 2001, p. 42).

Any cancellation of the voices will harm the dialogism that was borne out of this particular

temporality and spatiality because surgically removing a part of the scene will portray the ceremony

as being vulnerable and irrational.

If [la langue] is the social part of language, the individual cannot himself either create or

modify it; it is essentially a collective constraint which one must accept in its entirety if one

wishes to communicate (Barthes, 1990, p. 82).

been scrutinised by the resemblance to the village enlightenment campaign led by the Japanese coloniser.Under those campaigns, Muism was oppressed and persecuted under the banner of ‘anti-superstition’.25

Another term to refer to ‘Songut’: the third act of Jindo Ssitgimgut

26

4. Project: Compassional

A bodily assembly can be interpreted as a political act. For instance, how does our perception

change when homeless individuals, normally dotted around locations of your town centre, are

suddenly found crowded in the middle of a pedestrianized street speaking aggressively, or at

considerable volume to one another? How about a group of youngsters on the street, or a group of

people dressed in identical religious garments to form an assembly? What if the sound of the group

gets louder, presents a structured form, implements the use of fire and when such an assembly

repeats in a public sphere like Jindo Ssitgimgut? We as onlookers are intimidated as we seek a

conveniently idealised singular utterance: anticipating social disorder. Then, how do we find a new

altitude from this kind of ‘monologlossia’?

The project Compassional is an artistic intervention to expand my current understanding of

‘dialogism’, and seeks to visualise the idea within the art making: interviews and composition, and in

a tangible form of art that represents/re-enacts the sense of compassion for the endangered that I

have developed/realised in this research.

I interviewed 22 people in total. Locations (private) varied for the first set of recordings and then a

public location was confirmed – the intersection between Miller Street and Argyle Street in Glasgow

(which was the geographical centre of the memory that I recorded in the first interview). The

endangered in Compassional is our personal memory that contains certain utterances; each memory

may not seem to have it at first, but gradually it reveals its unique utterance through a form of

dialogue. Through responding to a particular part of the pre-recorded audio clip, the interviewee

began re-describing hidden utterances through their own voice. There was no transcript to analyse

but rather the act of listening to someone else’s story. Through this, the relationship between the

addresser and addressee is naturally constructed, and through the anticipation of being interviewed

afterwards, the addressee was already acting as another addresser in the wider dialogue.

My final artwork is constructed of micro speakers along with a small monitor which will visually

signify the intertextual relationalities among the interviewed voices in an organic form of dialogism.

27

Conclusion

The text (sasŏl) is mostly sung by the Tanggol. Each Tanggol possesses her own memorized

sets of repertoire which she has learnt from her teacher, usually her mother-in-law or

husband (M. Park, 2004, p. 362).

Oral tradition was an effective system of transmission to maintain dialogism in Muism, but false

ideals and certain methods of documentation used26 discouraged the expansion of the dialogism.

‘Other’ in dialogism is not known as a minor, but an equally valuable addresser who rightly

anticipates an addressee. There is a lack of healthy dialogue within Muism and the Muism struggles

under an idealised otherness which even creates an-other within to be eliminated. I have felt that

Bakhtin’s literary theories were effective ways to conduct a research on Muism to deconstruct the

existing authoritarian voices that are embedded within the literatures which were fundamental to a

library based research like this. Without the ability to conduct fieldwork in Jindo, it may have been a

challenge to create straightforward evidence-based arguments. However, proposing a mixed

methodology to acknowledge Muism as a literary subject along with the notion of

performativity/utterance, I was able to raise a different type of argument.

Illustration 7: Images of Mu

(Choe, 2009, p. 151; KCCA, 1998)

In the photos above Tanggol is radio miked to cancel out ‘noises’ from the participants (who I refer

to as ‘heteroglossia’), and sadly to a certain degree, the view finder of the camera (Left) resembles

the Japanese police officer (Right), who forced Tanggol to stage their activity for the purpose of the

photograph (which would have made Tanggol think about what they were supposed to do). The

26Very early transcriptions were by Japanese ethnographers in the 1920s and the first of its kind is believed to

be Hankukmugajib in 1971. I would argue that this might be an important fact to show that there is aproblematic nature of written documentation in relation to Muism, especially considering the standards ofliteracy in Korea.

28

images are often framed, and audio is filtered/censored/documented to preserve the voice(s) that

the author preselected: Tanggol and Koin.

The knot is thus tied by which literature will be considered from various viewpoints at the

same time: language, subject-producer, history, subject of metalanguage…They are not only

inseparable from one another, but their specific mode of blending is the very condition of

this possibility of knowledge (Kristeva, 1980, p. 94).

I view Jindo Ssitgimkut as a ‘knot’, the subject demands intertextual inquiries from us. Muism that I

have uncovered is not about a singular Mu, and perhaps the common omission of plural suffix27 has

not termed it more accurately as Mus-ism. The narrative of Mu is a collective of voices from the past

and arguably from the future, and as it should be viewed as an overall painting28. These complex

relationalities and interdependency will not be concluded as a singular utterance and will never

become extinct therefore it is a matter of our endeavour to re-describe its plurality to expand our

knowledge.

27In a similar way, pronoun ‘you’ commonly replaces ‘youse’ in English.

28I am borrowing the term to re-appropriate the absence of a focal point like paintings of Jackson Pollock.

29

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32

Appendix: the Main Story and Selected Transcripts (Compassional)

The story is based on the first recording from 30 June 2013, and the selective interview transcriptswere recorded on 20 July 2013.

The Story of the First Interview (the words have been re-arranged to form a story)

When I was 9 or 10, I stayed with my grandmother sometimes over the summer holidays, mygrandparents, over the summer holidays. Usually a Thursday and a Friday. We'd maybe, we'd get upand eat breakfast usually, or they would have eaten breakfast by the time I woke up, you know. Theywould wake up really, really early in the morning.

Every Friday my grandmother, we would walk into the city centre. So they lived just on theSouthside of the river, near Glasgow Green. And we would walk past the High Court, up Saltmarket,and there was a place she that would go to at the corner of Miller Street and Argyle Street. It was astall, a flower stall. An older lady, with curly hair, and she ran the stall with her son [laughs]. And shewas probably about the same age as my grandmother, I think, maybe a, yeah, aye. I guess mygrandmother would maybe have been in her 50s at that point. So she would buy flowers from thislady, and I wish I could remember the lady's name and I can't. Don't know. But she knew it, youknow, they knew each other on first name terms.

She would buy pink carnations, a lot of the time it was carnations. Her favourite flowers werecarnations and chrysanthemums. But I guess she thought carnations lasted longer, and because shewas going to put them on a grave outside, you know, they would, they were a bit more rugged; theywould last a bit better with the weather.

My uncle, Eddie, her son, he had died maybe about 3 or 4 years before, and I think she would go upto the grave, they would go up a few times a week, to the graveside and… but particularly theywould go on a Saturday morning, her and my grandfather, would drive out and just, you know, cleanthe stone, you know, clear up the ground and things, take any old flowers away, put the new flowersin place, that sort of thing. I'd never been to the cemetery with my grandparents; I’ve been with myown parents.

Transcript 1

Interviewer: Hello, thank you very much for your participation. Would you like to tell me your nameplease?

Participant: Lizzie [surname redacted at the request of the participant].

Interviewer: Thank you very much. And which particular part triggered your own memory from theprevious clip?

Participant: It would have been the time spent with… [brief pause] the previous clip spoke about thetime spent with his grandmother - and I suppose - in the city centre, and I suppose mine’s wouldhave been the time spent with my mother in the city centre.

Interviewer: Thank you very much. Would you be able to tell me the story please?

Participant: Of course. Every Saturday, my mother and I would go to the city centre. My mother… Iwould get the bus down, meet my mum at her house and we would come into the city centre. Wewould wander about the shops… and we would go for lunch.

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Interviewer: Are there any particular shops you remember?

Participant: I remember… we were pretty poor when we grew up and my mum spent lots of moneyon us and not on herself, and I remember first [pauses] probably my third job, and having quite a lotof money and taking her into Fraser’s, and she wanted a new purse and saying to her that she couldpick any purse that she wanted and she wasn’t allowed to look at the price tag and that was lovelybecause it was, it allowed me to give something back to her.

Interviewer: And do you remember how many years ago that was?

Participant: That must have been about...15 years ago [pauses]… yes.

Interviewer: And do you remember what items you bought her?

Participant: A purse, it was a red Radley purse that I bought her, that she chose, that’s what shechose out of all of the purses, which was lovely.

Interviewer: And did it make you continue shopping with your mother?

Participant: Yes, because we would go out, well we always did that, all through my life, my motherand I would always go shopping on a Saturday in the city centre. So we would walk over, we, wewould usually walk, walk into town from The Gorbals and we would, so we would get the bus there.We’d get off there. We’d walk into town and we would meander round the shops, Marks andSpencers and you know, the different food shops buying foods and different items of clothes andthen we would… used to go have lunch and just go back home, get the bus back home.

Interviewer: Do you remember any of the shops that you wanted to go in when you were young?Was there particular shops?

Participant: Yes. Oh, when I was young I always wanted to go to the Versace centre. Yes, so, Iremember going there and that was, that was lovely. That was really nice because it was excitingbecause it was a shop that you’d always walk past and thought that you maybe didn’t have enoughmoney to go into. So, when you get the opportunity to go in it was really quite exciting. It was quitea let-down as well because I thought: ‘I wouldn’t pay this money’ for the stuff they were selling! So,that was, so it was nice, it was nice actually to burst the bubble of what you thought the shop wasgoing to be about when actually it wasn’t what you… it didn’t live up to your expectations of it.

Interviewer: And can you let us know the location of the Versace centre?

Participant: Oh, right… it’s the… oh I’m rotten… it’s up [pauses]… it’s just up Ingram Street… it’s off…it’s on Ingram Street and it has food outlets. It had a Versace shop there. I think that’s now Re-Play,it’s now changed. It had a skull and, is it skull and bone? It had a kitchen place as well there, so it wasaround about there. It’s now… I mean that’s now changed. They also had a, a, a wee, inside of ityou could walk through and there was a fountain in the inside of it and there was outside spacewhere they had seats but it was opened at the top. There was people staying there, so the sun camein. You could sit out there and there was a wee cocktail bar there as well which was lovely.

Interviewer: And do you remember the first item you actually bought when you actually could go in?

Participant: I never bought anything. I thought that the stuff was overpriced and thought that Iwouldn’t pay for what they were selling. I thought the quality of it was really poor and I thought:‘ugh why have I been avoiding this for all these years? I wouldn’t buy it!’ So, no, I wasn’t impressed!So I never bought anything from Versace.

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Transcript 2

Interviewer: Hello, thank you very much for participating in the project. Would you like to let usknow your name please?

Participant: My name’s Evy Craig.

Interviewer: Which part of the recording triggered your own memory?

Participant: It was probably the part when you were saying that you were in Glasgow with your…your Granny, was it?

Interviewer: It was someone else’s but the…

Participant: [interrupts] It just reminds me when I was younger, my Granny would always take meinto Glasgow and she liked to go to the pub [laughs].

Interviewer: Do you remember what kind of... would you describe the outlook or memory of thatpub?

Participant: Oh, well there’s a pub in the Gallowgate, and it’s called The Squirrel Bar and a lot of themen used to [laughs] dress as cowboys. So [laughs] me and my brother were at the bar and I lookedlike something from ‘the Little House on the Prairie’ and my brother looked like a 70s reject [laughs].So… we had… most people would always just feed you like juice and crisps, and my Granny wasbeside her friend and these men in cowboy outfits started a brawl fight. And we actually thought itwas actually an act! So we thought we were getting filmed! But the bar people behind the bar,actually grabbed us and took us behind the bar and told us to duck [laughing]! We looked up and wesaid “Granny!” and she said: [mock-drunk] “it’s alright, hen, they’re just havin’ a wee fight…” [laughs].

Interviewer: Was that quite common?

Participant: [laughs] Well, we thought it was just, we thought it was great! We actually thought itwas… ‘cause they were dressed as cowboys… we actually thought it was a whole act like a saloon barfight. So, we didn’t actually realise it was real!

Interviewer: So, how many years ago…?

Participant: Aw... erm… my Granny died when I was 6, aye so I must have been 5, aye 5 or 6 I wouldimagine. So that’s...oh God [laughs]... that’s a long time ago, that’s about 30 years [laughs].

Interviewer: Have you been to that pub since your Gran?

Participant: No, but I really think I should go now [laughs]!

Interviewer: Was it common to bring children into that pub?

Participant: No, but my Granny seemed to know most… erm… public service bars. So, I think shecould get away with it, and we used to get lots of pats on the head and “aww get some crisps andjuice for the weans” [laughs].

Interviewer: What time of the day would your grandmother take you?

Participant: Probably... well she’d come in the afternoon so it must have been about... maybe about5 or... erm… but she would take you on a pub crawl [laughs]. There was one time, she was, she wasalways generous and she said, “what would you like?” because she probably had a, she had a couple

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of, you know, nice cans of, aye [laughs] nectar! And she would say: “what do you want?” I think mybrother said he wanted a turtle! [laughs] So we went to bars asking people, you know, and it’ssupposed to be a guy had a turtle but he sold it that day and he asked us to come back next week[laughs]! Like a real turtle! I don’t know!

Interviewer: So he got the turtle?

Participant: He had a turtle that day but he sold it just an hour beforehand, so, we could have beengoing home with a turtle on the bus! [laughs] Mark always wanted a turtle cause of Blue Peter forsome reason [laughs]. I don't know, yeah. I got my ears pierced so I was fine.

Interviewer: Was it quite, weekend thing that your grandmother?

Participant: Yeah, It was the weekend we went to Granny’s, yeah and she would take you about butshe, I mean, you know. She liked her ‘swally’ as we say!

Interviewer: So how regular was this? In terms of going to the pub with your grandmother?

Participant: It was probably all the time cause she was a, well, she worked in a bar, she was a public,you know she worked as… a public house. She used to, in the blackouts during like the war and stuff,she used to, like, you know, also give drinks to the police, so they could have lock-ins because barsused to maybe shut, about, maybe quite early, maybe 9 or something; so if you wanted anotherlittle… drink, she used to get dead friendly with the police so she could have a little lock-in… yes...and she made quite a lot of money, I heard [laughs]!