"Beyond this historical event, which can be understood as 'an example', a universal example, the work wants to be a memorial in mourning for the victims and a reminder of the fight for freedom in the world.” (Isang Yun)
The word “exemplum,” which Isang Yun decided to use in the title for this music, literally means model, precedent, and example. The title stands upon the recognition that the Gwangju Democratic Uprising is not just a tragedy in a small country of East Asia, but an exemplary world-historical event that should be taken into account when discussing a democratic past. The use of Latin, which is the traditional Western universal language, in the title should be understood in this context as well.
Eunmi Hong, a musicologist, advises that this piece not be taken as a documented event. Exemplum is a programmatic work, but Yun did not portray the actual incident realistically. Instead, he transcribed it into orchestral music, a form of abstract language. It seems that he had tried not to evolve tragedy into a spectacle. In the score, he gives instruction as follows: “The percussion should be placed as far back as possible. The dynamics should be adapted to the room conditions; it should be dramatic, but never unbearably loud.”
We can also understand in this context the reason why a Korean traditional musical instrument “Bak” is used instead of the roaring sound of a gunshot in the “shooting scene.” Bak has been considered a musical instrument that cuts open the space and makes silence dwell. By purposely eliminating realistic sounds of actual shooting scenes, Yun enhances the emotional effect instead of presenting a spectacle. In that respect, it resembles a slow-motion imaging technique, which removes or distorts sound effects.
This single-movement work has three major sections. In the first one, while the strings and woodwinds are in solidarity and resistance, the brasses growl at times in opposition, intensifying the conflict before it finally reaches a pandemonium. Then, in the words of musicologist Wolfgang Sparrer, the second part starts with the dismal stillness after the massacre and wakes up with the sound of brass and timpani after the paralysis. At that point, grief follows.
In the third part, again, a resistance begins. In contrast to the first part, even the ferocious cry of the brass can not prevent the huge flow of individual sounds. Wolfgang Sparrer saw this as a march in a fantasy, as well as a prospect and plea for the future. Meanwhile, Hanns-Werner Heister pointed out that the end of the composition is not a true finale but a procession that continues toward the ideal world.
The “dramaturgy” in this work is related to a developmental view of history. However, Isang Yun's technique of dealing with the individual tones comes from the East Asian worldview. They grow and circulate in their own vitality, and then fade, without developing toward a goal. Heister suggests that Yun had let "the things of past completely vanish without a trace" in this piece, which he feels implied that "those who brought repression, hunger, and death to the Koreans would also disappear."
WonCheol Kim
translated by Moohyun Cho
