What’s in a Painting?

Let’s zoom out and look at this composition as a whole now. We explored the objects depicted in Yi Ŭngnok’s painting, so what messages did we encounter there?

When we take the painting at face-value – the shelves of the bookcase, the objects on there, and the techniques used – tell us a story of the provenance of ch’aekkado as a genre. Taken from a purely visual perspective, a story unfolds starting from curio cabinets in the West, to duobaoge in China, the rapid rise of consumer culture, a love of books, and a dose of Neo-Confucian moral teachings, culminating into a new court-genre. But every painting has a greater story than just the things you see before you. What did we find hidden in the folds?

On the shelves and in the niches of this large painting, Yi Ŭngnok carefully laid out an array of cleverly curated symbols. Symbols of wealth, success, scholarly acumen and aspirations; amulets to accrue good fortune and ward off evil spirits; signs to show off dignity and integrity, and, of course, a refined modern taste.

So, is this a real bookcase? Probably not. Whereas in the West and China, collectors displayed their actual possessions, in Korea this was not the case. It started when King Chŏngjo took the concept and turned it into a tool of propaganda, using an assortment of objects that were symbols of good virtue. The objects promoting virtues recur in almost all ch’aekkado, as well as objects pertaining to good luck, a successful career, refined taste, and wealth. This is why scholars assume that, instead of having a painter portray their actual belongings, Chosŏn elites had them paint a visual-material representation of who they wanted to be (seen as). If you could commission Yi Ŭngnok to paint a ch’aekkado for you, what messages would you hide in the folds?