#23 - Moon Village

Fitting in means a lot in Korea. Relationships are often navigated by a set of hierarchies that govern what’s expected of you, and what you can expect. This makes sticking out here all the more noticeable, something requiring resolve. That’s why so-called ‘Moon Villages’, the vanishing neighbourhoods of Korea’s harder living, carry an undeniable strength of spirit. You can see it in their design, affixed to slopes, and in their stubborn indifference to urban sprawl.

Gangnam’s towers loom over Guryong Village.

This spirit is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, especially in relation to physical work. The apartments that replace these villages take an immense amount of labour to make. But once they’re done, any hint of the life of their inhabitants is hidden behind their walls. The villages are different. They need less manpower to make, much less. But they show so much more of the lives inside them. The more work we put into what goes between us and other people, the less of ourselves we show.

Made mostly of wooden boards, these villages have regular trouble with fire.

It’s funny how this can be true for an individual too. The more I focus on how I look or how I might be perceived, the less honest I feel. For someone who doesn’t wear make up (except that one time) I sure feel made up. Maybe that’s what pulls me back to places like the Moon Villages. For better or worse, they don’t hide anything. Maybe that doesn’t suit the residents, but they endure it as the towers around them slowly blot out the sky.

Living in Seoul, it’s hard not to feel like Everything is Under Control. And to be honest, it makes for comfortable living. But it stokes a tension I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling: security costs vitality. I think that’s part of what I find attractive about fringe locations, that they’re spontaneous, insecure to their bane and benefit. I can’t help but wonder though, about the people that build these places, and what security means to them.