정/情

My definition of 정: An uncontrollable, altruistic affiliation and attachment developed for an individual of special sentiment

정 is a complicated concept, difficult to confine to a single definition. It isn't love, per se, but it stretches from a tender, gentle affection to an intense, unwavering attachment, even embracing a familial sense of togetherness. It can persist even through a deep hatred, binding two individuals together, if only out of obligation.

My mother's understanding of 정, is objectified. For her, it is a tangible possession — something to be given and taken, held and relinquished. She sees it as something we have the power to control, to bestow upon others, and even to reclaim if the effort is made. To maintain 정 is to have mastery over it. Holding the ability to decide when and how it is shared, and with whom. It is hers, after all, so it is within her power to determine its providence. 

With this, she believes there is a sharp distinction between 정 and maternal love. Maternal love is unconditional and born of something deeper and primal: a bond forged in the very act of creation. To her, this is the only love that exists beyond her ability to command it.

I, on the other hand, find 정 to be far more elusive, and far less tethered to notions of possession or control. It defies the simplicities of ownership, spilling over the boundaries of what can be grasped or contained. My grandmother shares my sentiment. Her words being: "it is such a delicate entity that we cannot begin to think that it is something we can control. When it decides to depart from us, we must let it go, even unwillingly." 정 binds individuals together in ways we cannot always understand, let alone command. 

My 정 and familial love is melded together, each indistinguishable from the other. 

My mother told me I have given too much of my 정 away, that I part with it far too freely, almost carelessly. She describes it as if I am physically tearing fistfuls of myself and lobbing them at arbitrary individuals, leaving myself hollower each time. 정 can be replenished when it is returned from others, but if there's no one to receive it from, why has it been ingrained in us? 

To her, this is an act of stupidity and selfishness. She grieves over each drop that leaves me, mourning on my behalf. To me, this giving of 정 is not a choice; it is a natural, unbidden response of an inevitable outpouring of something that refuses to be held. I do not have the liberty to hold it in my grasp as she does. My 정 lacks strict direction and structure; it seeps.

Woman with Dead Child— (Frau mit totem Kind) state Kn 81 VIII a (1903) — Käthe Kollwitz

Line etching, drypoint, sandpaper, laid paper imprint, transfer paper

Woman with Dead Child— (Frau mit totem Kind) state NT 234a (1903) — Käthe Kollwitz

Charcoal on Ingres paper