Little Big Things

How do you express the inexpressible? How do you prove that something horrible - traumatic, unspeakable - really happened? How do you answer those who would rather believe that you were just imagining things - or, worse, making it up in order to seek attention? Step inside The Evidence Room, and you will find out. It should be obvious that I am many things besides a blogger. While I can wax philosophical about this, saying that I am a daughter or a sister or a friend, for today, I am a volunteer Gallery Interpreter at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. The post comes, understandably, with a number of perks - not least of which is the joy that comes with sharing my love for history and world cultures with visitors. However, part of working in a museum environment is that I am oftentimes left with more questions than answers: sometimes, these questions excite me and inspire me to try to find out more, but other times, I wonder just how much I ever can know.

Even before I knew what it was, I was drawn to traditional Korean architecture and interior design. At least, I think I must have been. How else, for instance, could I explain that when I first renovated and designed my bedroom as an adult, I went for colours like the ones shown here: pistachio green, white/cream/ivory, and natural wood tones? (Especially since, if you were to ask me at the time what my favourite colour, I would have actually said purple.) Now, in all honesty, there is a lot about many different cultures' traditional design that I enjoy and appreciate, not least being stuff from my own Chinese background. However, what really caught my ey e about Korean art, architecture and design is how understated a lot of it is. Granted, I am very much aware that this is only a small, albeit significant, component of today's Korean culture; Seoul, no matter how many nods to its historical heritage it maintains, is still one of Asia's main metropolises. However