Cet article comble une lacune dans les études religieuses en donnant un aperçu d’une pratique bouddhique dans la Corée des XIVe et XVe siècles, qui consistait, au sein des sociétés locales, à commander de petites sculptures bouddhiques en bronze doré, que l’on cachait ensuite sur les sommets des montagnes. Des études antérieures ont montré que la cour royale et les fonctionnaires du gouvernement central commanditaient des sculptures similaires ; mais, ici il s’agit de gens n’appartenant pas à l’élite centrale qui, néanmoins, étaient eux aussi les commanditaires d’un bon nombre d’entre elles. L’auteur met en évidence que des chefs de village, des aristocrates et des esclaves mettaient en commun leurs ressources pour la production et l’enterrement des sculptures. À travers une analyse du contexte spatial des enterrements, menée grâce à l’imagerie de Google Earth et des témoignages scripturaires, nous savons désormais que des groupes qui faisaient des pèlerinages à Kŭmgangsan 金剛山 pour vénérer le bodhisattva Dharmodgata (Pŏpki posal 法起菩薩) – une figure importante de la tradition du Prajñāpāramitā (Panya paramilta 般若波羅密多) – enterraient des sculptures d’Amitābha (Amit’abul 阿彌陀佛) et de ses deux assistants, Avalokiteśvara (Kwanŭm posal 觀音菩薩) et Kṣitigarbha (Chijang posal 地藏菩薩), dans la partie sommitale des collines contiguës à celle dédiée à Dharmodgata, et ceci afin de maximiser leur chance de renaître en Terre Pure. Après le retour des pèlerins au village, les sculptures enterrées offertes à Dharmodgata maintenaient ainsi leur connexion avec la divinité et permettaient aux fidèles d’acquérir en permanence des mérites. La recherche présentée dans cet article contribue à approfondir notre connaissance des pratiques religieuses locales en Corée pendant la période d’occupation mongole à la fin du royaume de Koryŏ 高 麗 (918-1392) jusqu’au début de la période du Chosŏn 朝 鮮 (1392-1910). Elle souligne, en même temps, l’importance d’étudier le placement et le contexte spatial des sculptures bouddhiques pour comprendre leur fonction rituelle.

Previously unexamined written, visual, and performative channels of communication between central government officials and local Buddhist monks call for a nuanced understanding of sociopolitical connections between the capital and the provinces of late Chosŏn Korea (1392–1910). Via a multidisciplinary approach, this article addresses the patronage of three shrines dedicated to meritorious Buddhist monk-generals and martyrs who fought during the Japanese invasions (1592–98). Male and female members of the central elite supported the construction of the shrines in order to advance their respective political ambitions. Discontented with court factionalism, the central elite wielded their support of the shrines as a shaming device against their opponents and/or corrupt officials, while Buddhist monks sought to gain social recognition and enhance their respective monastery's political caché by maintaining the shrines, and by performing Confucian commemoration rituals with royal support.

This article brings Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910) Korea into the discussion about the various roles of Daoism in East Asian cultures in which it has, unfortunately, all too often been absent. Based primarily on art-historical methodology and literary analysis, the article offers an overview of the many sorts of sources and materials that determine the perspectives we have of Daoism-related beliefs and concepts during the late Chosŏn. In contrast to earlier interpretations of Daoist practices as exclusively expressing a desire to retreat from public life, the materials discussed in this article advance a more subtle understanding of the pervasiveness of Daoism in late Chosŏn society, ranging from Daoist divination texts and rituals at religious shrines to the construction of artificial mountains for theater performances and the establishment of government office gardens that served as conduits for spiritual rejuvenation and display of cultural cachet.

films made at the height of the Cold War, and the height of stable dictatorships on both sides of the DMZ. The South Korean film, The DMZ (1965), and the North Korean film, The Fates of Geumhui and Eunhui (1975), both depict divided siblings who search for each other-and figuratively, a whole Korea-after encountering the DMZ itself. In both films, the siblings cannot ultimately reunite. The continuing division of the peninsula makes any conclusion to a movie about the DMZ difficult, and both movies end with narrations deploring the division, as well as the division of families and the Korean people themselves.It is almost cliché to say that all Koreans have been affected by the division and war, even if their families did not suffer directly at that time. Yet it is also probably true. DMZ Crossing is Kim's attempt to make sense of the emotional, affective ways in which Koreans on both sides of the DMZ have dealt with, ignored, suppressed, or manipulated the division of the peninsula as they seek to understand and endure the division. This book also serves as a clear rebuttal to an emerging belief that the younger South Korean generation does not seek unification because it is too costly. The opinion polls that lead to such conclusions have no ability to capture the deep and enduring impact the division continues to have on all Koreans on both sides of the border, and the numerous and varied ways in which they continue to experience the DMZ, and the division of Korea.This is a superb book, richly detailed, and will be important reading for anyone wishing to understand how both Koreas and the people themselves define, view, and interact with each other. Suk-young Kim continues to challenge us to think about Korea and the division of the peninsula in new and insightful ways.

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