In the intimate setting of a small black box theatre, audience members find themselves not in the fixed, sterile rows of traditional theatre seats but cozily relaxing in camping chairs arranged on each side of the space, facing each other. At the center stands an abstract wooden structure; its layered, rounded ridges evoke a campfire or a mountain. Five performers enter, each taking their place in a corner of the theatre with their instruments and props. Before the performance formally begins, the audience is invited to wander through a “museum scene” where performers engage in their own rituals—singing, reading, and playing instruments—like living exhibits. The prelude blurs the usual boundaries between performer and spectator, drawing the audience into the performance space.
Once the audience settles, Practicing Freedom unfolds in a series of deeply personal, autobiographical narratives interwoven with traditional dance, music, and song. The performance brings together five young Seoul-based artists: theatre director Boreum Kang, sorrikkun (pansori singer) Laure Mafo, gosu (pansori drummer) and sorrikkun Beom-Hee Lee, daegeum (large bamboo flute) player Joon-Seo Ann, and yeonhui (traditional Korean performing arts) performer Sol-Ji Kim. One by one, the artists step into the center and address the audience directly with their stories. Although each narrative is unique, a common theme emerges: the complex and evolving relationship with tradition—how it inspires yet constrains, energizes yet exhausts, and demands mastery and preservation yet invites questioning and reinvention.
Five performers take the stage with the audience seated on camping chairs. From left to right: Sol-Ji Kim, Laure Mafo, Beom-Hee Lee, Boreum Kang, and Joon-Seo Ann. Photo Credit: Project Readymade.
Boreum captivates with a vibrant Mandeng dance—a performance reflecting her journey into West African dance traditions. Battling self-doubt and uncertainty, glimpsed through her journal, she finds guidance in foreign traditions. Her travel journal, which details a revelatory trip to Burkina Faso and her ongoing exploration of diverse cultural practices, reveals how immersing herself in another tradition broadens her theatrical vision and helps her navigate the challenges she faces as a young theatre director.
Laure Mafo presents a captivating pansori performance. Photo Credit: Project Readymade.
Laure Mafo’s journey is one of belonging and identity. Born in Cameroon, raised in France, and now working in Seoul, she has long been adrift between cultures. As the cast’s only non-ethnically-Korean member, her embrace of pansori naturally sparks curiosity among audiences—prompting them to wonder whether and how she can perform this traditional Korean genre. Yet, when she begins singing classic pieces like Heungboga and Sarangga, fluidly alternating between French and Korean, she transforms pansori into a deeply personal journey of discovery. Her original composition, “Cameroon My Hometown,” sung in French and infused with childhood memories of mango trees, underscores her evolving connection to Cameroonian, French, and Korean traditions and her ongoing search for a place to call home. Laure not only reinterprets a revered tradition but also expands its aesthetic boundaries—infusing pansori with a fresh, cross-cultural vibrancy that challenges and enriches its form.
Whereas Boreum and Laure explore the liberating potential of cross-cultural engagement, Beom-Hee and Joon-Seo grapple with the constraints of tradition’s institutionalized aspects. Beom-Hee candidly describes his desire to be both a gosu and sorikkun, a choice at odds with the institution’s demand for specialization. His refusal to bend to traditional demands writes a new chapter in tradition, mirroring the show’s broader theme: Tradition is not defined by rigid rules and boundaries but is a living, evolving practice shaped by those who challenge its conventions and limitations.
Joon-Seo Ahn plays the daegum. Photo Credit: Project Readymade.
Joon-Seo’s segment adds another layer to this exploration of tradition’s demands. He begins by asking, “Guys, what is it like to rest?” and reflects on his process of relentless training on the daegum—years dedicated to prestigious schools, competitions, and the pursuit of perfection. To illustrate the perfectionist demands of traditional music, he performs Daeguem Sanjo a Korean traditional bamboo flute solo music he has spent years striving to master. Questioning whether this rigorous path is truly his own, he expresses his doubt in an unexpectedly playful manner by performing K-pop group g.o.d’s 2001 hit “The Road” with the other performers. The lyric—“Why do I stand on this road? Is this the road for me? At the end of this road, do I get to achieve my dream?”—underscores his uncertainty. The lighthearted, goofy pop culture moment injects the performance with a refreshing sense of fun and spontaneity.
Sol-Ji Kim humorously discusses her love-hate relationship with tradition. Photo Credit: Project Readymade.
In the final segment, Sol-Ji captures the real struggles of life as a freelance yeonhee performer—juggling an overwhelming workload and the constant hustle that comes with earning a living. With humor and energy, she vents about the precarious nature of freelancing, where the pressure to accept every opportunity leaves her little time to rest. Her candid reflections resonate not only with fellow performers but with anyone who has ever felt trapped in an exhausting cycle of work.
The performance’s Korean title, Puri Yeonseop, carries layered meanings. Puri—derived from the verb pulda—means “to untangle” or “to unfold” and phonetically sounds akin to “free” in English. Yeonseop refers to the repeated practice required to achieve mastery. Altogether, the title suggests that unraveling one’s relationship with tradition is itself an act of practicing freedom—breaking from expectations, reinterpreting heritage, and asserting artistic liberty with resilience and determination.
What makes Practicing Freedom compelling is its fearless embrace of the in-between spaces these young artists navigate—the moments of uncertainty, cross-cultural intersections, and the personal and artistic journey that defy easy categorization. No story offers a neat resolution; the work thrives on unresolved tension and complexity. As audiences follow these young artists in their ongoing search for the complex meanings that tradition holds in their lives, they are drawn in not as passive spectators but as active listeners and supporters, sharing in the performers’ joys, passions, and challenges.
Going beyond personal narratives, Practicing Freedom gently critiques institutional restrictions and the precarious nature of artistic labor that limit creative aspiration. It even extends its commentary to global concerns such as sustainability, noting the dwindling availability of materials—such as the certain kinds of cowhide and wood used for traditional Korean drums. Boreum’s pointed remark on colonial histories embedded in kitenge fabric—considered a traditional African textile despite its origins in Dutch reproduction of Indonesian batik patterns for export to African markets—underscores that tradition has often been shaped by colonial and imperial entanglements rather than cultural purity. “I used to think tradition was a country’s unique culture,” she remarks, “but it is not. Instruments, fabrics, and people have endured many struggles as they crossed national borders.” These complex topics, which enrich the thematic depth and scale of the show, never feel heavy-handed; instead, they are seamlessly integrated into artists’ personal narratives.
Plush toys are available for the audience to borrow, if needed, as part of the open auditorium experience. Photo Credit: Project Readymade.
Furthering its commitment to practicing freedom, the show is staged in a barrier-free open auditorium. Integrating sign language and projected subtitles in an environment where audience members are free to use their cell phones (excluding recording) or even come and go as they please, the show dismantles the constraints and decorum of conventional theatergoing. Its structure not only enhances accessibility but also encourages the audience to rethink the theatre experience—creating a freer, more open, and more inclusive space and community.
Ultimately, Practicing Freedom is a playful yet incisive reflection on tradition, labor, and artistic resilience. Through tender personal narratives infused with humor, vulnerability, and passion, the production redefines tradition as a dynamic, evolving, lived, personal, and liberating practice—shaped by those who dare to question, reinterpret, and reclaim it.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
