In November, Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage director Clifford Murphy traveled to South Korea at the invitation of the Asia Culture Center (ACC), part of South Korea’s Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism. He presented the keynote address at ACC’s International Academic Conference in Seoul, comparing the Korean concept of “the culture of everyday life” with what we call “folklife” in the United States.

In the address, he shared the history of the Center, an introduction to American folklife, and ways that Americans define, cherish, and carry forward their cultural traditions in everyday contexts.

“To my ears and eyes, everyday culture is a mixture of the songs, stories, accents, names, beliefs, crafts, games, jokes, recipes, decorative and architectural patterns, and styles that connect us across generations,” he said. He turned to a river metaphor to frame our relationship with tradition—asking whether we are passengers, stewards, dam builders, or breakers.

Our editorial team asked Murphy a few questions to reflect on the trip.

How was your experience at the conference?

It was a terrific opportunity to meet scholars from across the Asian continent, on topics ranging from ancient Silk Road artifacts in Central Asia to a living tradition of meditative archery in Indonesia. This was my first visit to South Korea, and I was struck by the generous welcome and by my colleagues’ warm sense of humor.

What did you learn about our South Korean counterparts in the cultural heritage field?

The breadth of cultural heritage agencies in South Korea impressed me, from ICHCAP to the Korea Heritage Service’s Intangible Cultural Heritage Bureau, the National Folk Museum of Korea, and the Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism. Colleagues from these agencies were interested to discuss how the United States—and the Smithsonian—defines folklife and how our different cultural agencies engage, support, and illuminate it for public benefit.

ICHCAP is part of South Korea’s cultural heritage agency, which interfaces with UNESCO and facilitates intangible cultural heritage work across Asia and the Pacific. I took a two-hour train ride south to Jeonju, where the organization is headquartered, to discuss work that our agencies do to advocate for intangible cultural heritage. Our Center and the Smithsonian Office of Global Affairs is currently hosting an ICHCAP intern, and our conversations also included how we might continue our ongoing exchange.

At the National Folk Museum of Korea—in addition to taking in the Beginnings of K-Culture exhibition, which explores how South Korean pop culture is an embrace of tradition and modernity—I had an expansive discussion with museum leadership about American and Korean folklife.

Are there differences in how we frame our cultural traditions?

The vast majority of South Korean residents—over 90 percent—are ethnically Korean, and the largest group of foreign-born residents are ethnically Korean from China. The first half of the twentieth century was a time of incredible cultural repression and trauma for the Korean people. In the years following the segmentation of the Korean peninsula and the Korean Armistice Agreement in 1953, the country’s cultural agencies were created to assist in healing and rebuilding language, traditions, and identity.

We talked about how, in comparison, the United States is a nation defined by its diverse multitudes, a paradox of community and individuality. Our nation has a brilliant tension between e pluribus unum (out of many, one) and the language of the American Folklife Preservation Act of 1976, in which Congress declared “that the diversity inherent in American folklife has contributed greatly to the cultural richness of the Nation and has fostered a sense of individuality and identity among the American people,” and “that the history of the United States effectively demonstrates that building a strong nation does not require the sacrifice of cultural difference.”

That act has roots in the first decade of the Smithsonian Folklife Festival and launched the incredible and enduring American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress. My observation is that, since the early twentieth century, our country has defined itself as a cultural democracy, and that the tradition in public folklore in the United States is that we focus our efforts on what is in the United States, rather than debating what is of the United States—evident in our state folklife apprenticeship programs and in the National Endowment for the Arts’ National Heritage Fellowships. This was also a big piece of my presentation at the conference, where scholars from across Asia were grappling with how to engage with emergent cultural diversity in their home countries.

Still, our colleagues at the National Folk Museum of Korea challenged me in a most effective and good-natured way, asking, “Certainly, there are traditions that emerge uniquely from the United States?” To which we agreed on a few examples of music: blues, gospel, jazz, American polka, country, rock, powwow, conjunto, hip-hop. Our discussion of American foodways started with fried chicken and BBQ, which detoured into a happy discussion of its delicious Korean cousins.

Why did this feel like a significant time to visit South Korea in particular?

The metro region of Baltimore, where I live, is home to one of the largest Korean communities in the United States. This, coupled with the global phenomenon of K-pop and K-culture, has meant that Korean foodways, television, and music have become ubiquitous—as evidenced by the many trick-or-treaters dressed as KPop Demon Hunters last Halloween.

South Korea’s cultural agencies are aware that K-culture is having a moment across the globe, and they are seeking to educate K-fans, cooks, and more about cultural origins. As such, my visit included a visit to one of the main temples of Korean Buddhism, which contained extraordinarily beautiful and intricate flower art, and an exploration of traditional tea houses. And I got to take a cooking class at Hansik Space E:eum, a foodways museum and test kitchen, where I made rice cakes and was inspired by the clarity with which Hansik explained origins of various dishes.

Tell us more about the food!

I visited a kimchi museum, happened to be in Seoul on a day of national celebration of kimchi, and ate dozens upon dozens of different variations of kimchi. My favorite—or, should I say, my favorite not made from cabbage—was kimchi made with crunchy persimmons, which had a tangy bite.

In Jeonju, I enjoyed one of my favorite Korean dishes, bibimbap, in the town where it originated. So good. So spicy. So many kimchi sides.

Elisa Hough is the editor and web content manager at the Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage.

Kirby Ewald is the strategic communications coordinator for the Center’s Cultural Vitality Program.