In the midst of the 21st century, where the waves of digital technology crash fiercely, we paradoxically crave the most analog form of comfort. The sense of powerlessness felt by individuals in front of the giant data Goliath and the invisible walls of capital is deeper and darker than ever. Trapped in the prison of tastes recommended by algorithms, we may be floating without true 'encounters' and 'resonance'. Amidst this era of melancholy, we aim to focus on the great resonance that blooms in a small space in Ilsan, which calls itself an 'independent army hideout'.
The central figure of this concert is undoubtedly Son Jinki, the representative of Dream Republic. Defining him merely as an organizer of the event is to overly diminish his world. He is a cultural critic and broadcaster, and he calls himself 'the chief', a pioneer who plants flags in the barren land of culture. His background reflects the nature of the concert he pursues. In front of the microphone, he preaches a sharp aesthetic to the world, and when he picks up a pen, he is a critic who incisively cuts through the social wounds through his columns. He embodies the identity of a 'boundary person' who traverses the realms of management and art.
Analyzing his texts reveals that Son Jinki is not a mere romanticist. He maintains a critical perspective that sharply distinguishes between 'pragmatism' and 'principle', as well as 'praise' and 'flattery', discussing diplomatic tactics in the face of great powers like Trump and the upheavals of domestic politics. For instance, he defines in his columns that "praise is to sincerely commend and uplift the other based on objective facts", capturing the subtle psychological warfare in power relations. His insightful commentary is directly reflected in the planning of concerts. For him, art is not an anesthetic for escaping reality, but rather the most elegant and powerful weapon (sling) against the contradictions of reality (Goliath). The 'Dream Republic' he leads is, as the name suggests, a kind of cultural exile government trying to restore dreams in an era where dreaming has become impossible.
The 'Dream Life Classic' led by Son Jinki has aimed for "visiting performances" since its establishment on November 11, 2011. The fact that it has continued over 120 concerts for more than 14 years proves that this project is not a one-time event but a persistent cultural movement. Rather than denying the authority of large performance venues (such as the Arts Center and Sejong Center), it insists on the 'house concert' format that lowers the threshold and delivers art right in front of the audience.
This is an attempt to transplant the salon culture of 19th century Europe into the Korean context, particularly in the commercial space of Ilsan, a satellite city. While large concert halls provide a spectacle that overwhelms the audience, the salon concert of Dream Life offers 'intimacy' where the audience and performers make eye contact and share breaths. This is the most concrete and practical alternative to restore humanity in a modern city divided by the logic of capital.
Gyeongseong Record, the Independent Army Hideout of 2025
The venue for the concert, 'Gyeongseong Record', carries deep symbolism from its very name. 'Gyeongseong' is the name of Seoul during the Japanese colonial period, a symbol of modernity where modern goods flowed in, and at the same time, a dual space-time where oppression and resistance coexisted. It is no coincidence that this place bears the subtitle "independent army hideout".
31-1 Mugunghwa-ro, Ilsan Dong-gu, Tenfold Plaza, Room 304. Located at a very modern address, this space transforms into a third place (The Third Place) that blocks out the city noise of 2025 and flows with the romance and tragic beauty of the 1930s the moment you open the door. This is not just a simple café. It is a complex cultural space where Oh Jeong-yeop's art stories, various humanities lectures, and Dream Life's classical performances are constantly held. This space, nurtured by owner Son Deok-ki, claims to be a sanctuary for those dreaming of 'spiritual independence' in a cold city governed by the logic of capital.
If the experience in a large performance venue is 'viewing', then the experience in a space with less than 100 seats like Gyeongseong Record is 'witnessing' and 'experiencing'. The audience feels the subtle changes in the facial expressions of the vocalists, the beads of sweat on their foreheads, and the vibrations of the air when their vocal cords resonate.
The reason top vocalists like baritone Kim Seung-hwan and mezzo-soprano Hwang Hye-ja have passed through here is precisely because of this 'directness of communication'. The power of the unamplified (or minimally amplified) voice strikes the audience's heart like David's stone. Here, the performer has no place to hide their technical flaws, and the audience cannot hide their emotions either. This is the cruel yet beautiful 'moment of truth' that salon concerts possess.
February 7, 2025 (Saturday) 17:30 Gyeongseong Record
31-1 Mugunghwa-ro, Ilsan Dong-gu. 3rd Floor
Admission ticket 10,000 won
