After finishing the last beat of our laid-back show in Jindo Island back in August 2018, I remember the bitter-sweet feeling I walked away with, believing that I had just wrapped up my final Samulnori performance! Growing up, I went to a Korean-adoptee culture camp for one week every summer for 10 years. As a camper, I always looked forward to unapologetically beating the drums, and I returned as a volunteer for four years. Of course, I had to play more (semi) gracefully and calculate my rhythm whilst performing in Jindo in front of masters: teachers who devote their entire lives to perfecting the art of traditional Korean performing. The flow of energy never ceases to take my breath away. Looking back, I remember the hearing the news that I could perform once again in November 2019 – one of five things, perhaps, that would prompt me to voluntarily leave campus for a weekend. I couldn’t shut up about the weekend once I returned to school, but it is challenging to crisply articulate why and how a bunch of “Wasians” (a term dubbed by my friends) gather to perform at Symphony Space.
With style,
Sar
