“Bojagi” is a general term for all wrapping cloths in Korea. Most bojagi were made with specific people and functions in mind, like when mothers crafted bojagi for their daughters before weddings. Bojagi were viewed more as craft pieces than artwork, and it is only in recent decades that the aesthetic value of bojagi was rediscovered. By sewing together small, used cloth of various shapes and skillfully juxtaposing vibrant colors, the unknown makers of these bojagi created an exciting design akin to modern abstract art.

Depending on its function, design, structure, and user, bojagi can have other names. For example, bojagi made for covering a table is called “sang bo” (“sang” means table, and “bo” is an abbreviation of bojagi). Because the bojagi on display are patchworks of cloth remnants, they are “jogak bo” (“jogak” means small pieces). Different names apply to various patchwork designs, as well as suggest those meant for royalty and for ordinary people.

Once upon a time long, long ago when the tiger smoked a pipe… This familiar phrase, used at the beginning of Korean children’s stories, is represented literally on this jar in underglaze cobalt. The tiger-and-magpie theme is a popular motif in Korean folk painting. In the past, Koreans believed that tigers embodied the spirit of mountains and possessed the power to ward off all evil and harm, and that magpieswere harbingers of good news. Porcelain wares with underglaze-cobalt decoration began to be produced in Korea during the fifteenth century, with imported cobalt from West Asia through China.

The “flower robe” was a wedding robe worn by brides at the court and in the gentry class during the Joseon dynasty. This one was made by a contemporary textile artist in the traditional style of red silk with blue lining, colors that symbolize yin and yang, feminine and masculine, and light and dark in East Asian cosmology. It is embroidered with auspicious motifs of flora and fauna, including lotus and peony. The lotus symbolizes purity, rebirth, longevity, and good fortune, and the peony represents wealth and honor, while two birds allude to conjugal bliss. A bird with chicks symbolizes many offspring. The embroidered phrase on the back of the robe reads: “The union of two families is the root of myriad happiness.”

Jeong Tae-o’s eight-panel screen shows plum trees with blossoming flowers. Each panel contains an independent composition in which an old tree trunk has produced slender new branches with delicate blossoms. Only the second panel shows slender branches jutting out in the opposite direction. Plum blossoms sprout on fresh thin branches that have grown from the older branches. Jeong Tae-o (active 1800s), whose pen name was U-eum and who was also known as Jeong Tae-gyu, was famous for his plum paintings.

The blossoming plum is traditionally associated with other plants in symbolic combinations: the grouping known as the Three Friends of Winter (Sehan samu) consists of the blossoming plum, the pine, and bamboo; and the Four Virtuous Gentlemen (Sagunja) group consists of the blossoming plum, orchids, chrysanthemums, and bamboo. Because plum flowers blossom even before the snow melts, they are thought of as harbingers of happy times.

“Bojagi” is a general term for all wrapping cloths in Korea. Most bojagi were made with specific people and functions in mind, like when mothers crafted bojagi for their daughters before weddings. Bojagi were viewed more as craft pieces than artwork, and it is only in recent decades that the aesthetic value of bojagi was rediscovered. By sewing together small, used cloth of various shapes and skillfully juxtaposing vibrant colors, the unknown makers of these bojagi created an exciting design akin to modern abstract art.

Depending on its function, design, structure, and user, bojagi can have other names. For example, bojagi made for covering a table is called “sang bo” (“sang” means table, and “bo” is an abbreviation of bojagi). Because the bojagi on display are patchworks of cloth remnants, they are “jogak bo” (“jogak” means small pieces). Different names apply to various patchwork designs, as well as suggest those meant for royalty and for ordinary people.

Letters from the Thai alphabet are loosely pinned together to form an outline of the Buddha. These letters, cut from industrial mesh, form Buddhist sayings that Jakkai Siributr, a practicing Buddhist, chants daily. Amulets depicting the Buddha, respected monks, and kings hang from the text. Amulets are charms blessed by monks and given to worshippers at temples, often worn on the body as a reminder of the Buddha’s teachings. As Jakkai has observed in Thailand, amulets blessed by monks believed to possess magic powers have become talismans that are being worshipped by people so that good fortune, prosperity, and safety will come their way. Jakkai views the use of amulets for luck and instant gratification as a perversion of their intended function as inspiration to devotees. He notes that the absent Buddha, present only in outline, represents the disappearance of Buddhism’s true principles.

Jakkai Siributr works primarily in the textile medium. His fascination with textiles and embroidery began as a child in Bangkok, and he went on to study textile design in college and graduate school in the United States before returning to live and work in Thailand. His meticulously handmade tapestry and installation works make statements about religious, social, and political issues in contemporary Thailand. His art is preoccupied with the interaction of Buddhism and materialism in modern life and with the everyday popular culture of Thailand.

This bowl represents a high point in epigraphic ware production under the Persian Samanid dynasty (819-1005). The elaborate kufic version of the Arabic script is embellished with knotted interlaces and leafy flourishes that show off the artisan’s skill. A sharp instrument was used to achieve the crisp edges of the slipware-painted script. The decoration of this bowl consists of an Arabic proverb that may be translated as, “Surely knowledge is the noblest of the innumerable virtues and manliness is the most intricate of lineages.” This proverb is also found on wares now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, and the Reza Abbasi Museum, Tehran. Inscriptions on other bowls and dishes discuss the delights of eating, and it has been suggested that reading the inscriptions may have provided a form of entertainment. In cosmopolitan Samanid society this might have been the case.

The conical bowl form with straight, flaring sides and a flat base is a practical one and seems to derive, as do many Islamic ceramic forms, from a more expensive metal prototype in silver.

This type of globular porcelain jar, known as a moon jar (dal hang-ari), was loved by Korean people in part because its white color suggested Confucian virtues of purity, honesty, and modesty. Although porcelain wares were produced concurrently with celadons during the Goryeo dynasty (918-1392), not until the Joseon dynasty did they come into prominence. From about 1600 on, porcelain came to dominate the field of Korean ceramics because the preference for the color white dominated Korean aesthetics throughout the Joseon dynasty.

Goryeo dynasty ewers often derived their shapes from natural forms such as melons or double gourds. This ewer, however, takes its shape from a metal prototype, judging from the cylindrical body, the sharp angled flat shoulder, and the looping flat handle accented with a crisp outline. Its lid, which is in the form of a double lotus and has a jewel on the top, makes an effective contrast to the simple unadorned body. The glaze covers the bottom of the base and the foot is carefully wiped. The traces of three spur marks can be spotted under the glaze at the bottom. The gray-blue glaze is thin, transparent, and lustrous.

The beauty of this refined form and exquisite glaze exemplifies the highest aesthetic quality demanded by the court and the aristocracy. Celadon works such as this piece prompted the young Chinese official Xu Jing (1091-1153), who came with the Chinese embassy to Korea in 1123 from the court of Huizong emperor (r. 1101-1125), to compare Goryeo celadon to Chinese imperial ru wares that were produced in China at the time as well as the “secret color” of earlier Chinese yue wares. In a later time the outstanding beauty of Goryeo celadon made another Chinese writer, whose pen name was Taiping Laoren, to include them among the objects he considered the “first under heaven.”

The large birds and stylized rosettes resembling lollipops on this deep bowl exemplify one of the most endearing types of slipware produced in Iran throughout the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Called “Sari ware” after the town just south of the Caspian Sea where many similar examples were found, these ceramics follow earlier techniques of production and decoration. The motif of a parrot or hawk attacking another bird is typical of the decoration found on such bowls. The characteristic white dots punctuating the large bird’s eye and the feathers in this bowl are not new, although they are combined in an innovative and dynamic way, showing that late provincial production for local consumption could remain vibrant.