Movement and Stillness: Interview with choa magazine

Illustration of a woman's figure from choa magazine volume 1. — *choa magazine volume 1. Illustration by Hanna Lee Joshi.*

choa magazine is an independent online publication devoted to recognizing, examining, and understanding the nuances and complexities of Korean female diasporic experiences. Bringing together the voices of Korean womxn, choa magazine works to provide a platform for alternative narratives on sociocultural, political, and economic issues. Founded in 2020, choa magazine has an annual theme-based volume, monthly newsletters, and a podcast with contributions from members of the diaspora.

In this interview, Digital Content Editor Manahil Bandukwala talks to Harriet Kim and Mirae Lee of choa magazine. They discuss the issues choa magazine has published, and look ahead to the theme for the upcoming issue, “aging in place.”

To learn more about choa magazine, visit their website or follow them on Instagram @choamagazine.

Manahil Bandukwala: Hello Harriet and Mirae! Thank you so much for speaking with me about choa magazine. To start out with, could you tell me about your experiences as artists?

Harriet Kim: Hi Manahil, thanks for chatting with us as well! I appreciate the question but it took me a while to figure out how to answer. I co-created and photographed a portrait series called Dressed in Layers: A Hanbok Project. I’ve also organized a collective of Korean Canadian Writers (and sometimes I write). I often make a lot of things for my personal enjoyment that aren't seen by a wider audience. I don’t know if I would describe any of those experiences through the lens of being an artist (although, I suppose some people would say it would be). Rather, it feels more about being in community with other Korean folks (and hopefully that shows in choa!).

Mirae Lee: I don’t consider myself an artist, but rather a creative or a cultural producer. I do illustrations as a side project, but I see myself more as an organizer, facilitator, or project manager. I was part of Project 40, a Toronto-based Asian artist collective, for about four years (we closed in 2021). We created opportunities for young Asian artists to practice, explore, and express their art and stories, such as running workshops, hosting exhibitions, and guiding artists to execute multidisciplinary projects. I consider my role in choa magazine as a continuation of this without specifically focusing on artists since we’re, in essence, creating a platform for Korean women in the diaspora to share their experiences.

Manahil: Why did you decide to start choa magazine, a space for work in both English and Korean? Why was it important for you to create a space specifically for “the nuances and complexities of the Korean female diasporic experiences,” as your website says?

Mirae: choa was born from something personal, and I think that’s why it exists so dearly for both of us. For me, it’s grounded in a need to have a space where we can freely express our stories without any constrictions of expectations—of who we should be and what experiences we should have. It’s a need to share the diversity within the diaspora, while recognizing the various ways in which we’re impacted and impact local and global phenomena and happenings. We found it also important to highlight that the experiences of the Korean diaspora exist in either or both English and Korean (or even the confusing mesh of the two languages like myself), so it felt right to reflect that in the magazine.

Harriet: I don’t have much to add to what Mirae described about what we do and why it was important for us to start this kind of space, especially one that works in English and Korean. I just want to emphasize this desire I have, not only to freely express my individual stories, but also to understand how that exists in relation to navigating and expressing our shared stories in a truthful and accurate way.

Korean food. — *choa magazine volume 2. Photo by Mina Park.*

Manahil: The first two themes of choa’s issues are “water” and “food.” These are elements that I have a deep connection to in my own work. There are ways that water and food create roots and routes, to reference Paul Gilroy, and these often appear in poetry. How do these themes show up in your own work? What did you find when curating multi-arts issues around these themes?

Mirae: We began with “water” as a dedication to thinking about the climate crisis. This exploration bled into our second theme of “food” (e.g. seed saving, tree preservation), or specifically, “home-cooked meals,” which was also in part a reflection of the uncertain state we were bound in. These themes touch on the efforts of collectivity in my work that involves imagining futures and togetherness. These notions of ‘shared responsibility’ and ‘coming together’ show up in how we curate each volume, including the decisions we make on which topics to explore, who to feature, and what spaces and times to consider. But along the way, we also learned so much more about and around the themes than what we started with. In particular, how we can expand our purview of water and home-cooked meals and how we can express them. It’s also wonderful to hear our readers comment on their connection with a certain piece in the magazine, which I think speaks to our intention of “collectivity”.

Harriet: “There are ways that water and food creates roots and routes”—I love that. The science of the earth’s water cycle, of seed saving, or of tree preservation and how that exists within these big interconnective ways is so fascinating. But the science of it was a piece of it as we approached these themes with questions of what collective care (of the earth, ourselves, each other) can and should look like now and in the future. This sort of thinking, the grounding of science and the curiosity and openness that comes with the shared negotiation of care, really influences the way I try to approach my creative process. Curating volumes around these themes across different art mediums was hard in the way that there are just so many roots and routes, if you will, with these themes. But in the same vein, it was an expansive and meaningful experience to curate each of these volumes. Each piece felt like an offering to the kind of coming together that Mirae mentioned.

choa magazine's volume 3 submission call poster. The theme is "aging in place." Poster is cream-coloured with orange, red, and green leaves/shrubbery.

Manahil: choa’s third issue is currently open for submissions with the theme “aging in place.” Diaspora is so often associated with movement, and the idea of staying in one place can feel strange and almost antithetical. Why did you decide on this theme?

Harriet: I think many of us understand the diasporic experience in the context of some kind of movement. But I think diaspora is as much about movement as it is about rooting—in a physical space or culture, as an individual or in a group, by choice or not. Movement doesn’t exist on its own. With movement, there is also some kind of stillness.

I think similarly, aging in place can have this “push and pull,” often in strange ways that I think are a part of the diasporic experience. And I think it’s in those incompatible ways that we had many moments of discussing and reflecting on different topics and stories that resonated with us before realizing that this was our theme.

Mirae: I’ve been thinking a lot about the tension between diaspora/movement and living in place/stillness in my personal life. I’ve always felt “un-grounded” in both Korea and Canada, the former being a place I associate my identity with and refer to as home, while the latter being a place I grew up in and where I have a community. On top of this, I moved to Singapore two years ago, although temporarily, but still without any fear or hesitation of leaving Canada, and now I’m thinking about where my next destination is.

I’ve been questioning where I can feel “in place,” and if I’ll always carry a lingering feeling of constant diaspora. “Aging in place” appears as an idealistic goal, yet also a reality that I’m constantly grappling with. My experience is definitely not unique, but something that others in the diaspora can relate to, but we rarely think of it in terms of “aging” or “evolving.” I think there’s something special and important about the antithetical imagining that “aging in place” presents for those between cultures and within a diaspora. It also feels timely with the increasing questioning of “space” during these times.

Manahil: What are you looking for in submissions?

Harriet: For Volume 3, we’re looking for stories, thoughts, and reflections on what it would mean to age in place and what would make that possible. “Aging in place” can be interpreted in various ways, such as physically growing old, witnessing a passage of time, living in one’s home safely for as long as you’re able, and creating a community of care for a future with others. We’re open to people pushing boundaries and sharing their own interpretation of what “aging in place” means to them. It can be in text, visual, mixed, and multimedia forms. You can find more details on our website.

Harriet Kim (she/her) is a community arts organizer, photographer, and writer based in Tkaronto/Toronto.

Mirae Lee (she/her) is a cultural producer, bilingual writer, translator, and illustrator. She has worked with various Tkaronto-based not-for-profit arts organizations until recently when she moved to Asia to explore new possibilities in new settings.