The sound is the life that blooms within the heart, a story that cries and laughs together

At the age of 13, she entered Jeonnam Women's High School, and around that time, she decided to pursue the path of a singer after hearing the performance of the master Lee Hwa-jung-sun in a Hyunryulsa performance.

At 15, she entered the school of the great master Song Man-gap, learning Simcheongga and Heungboga, officially beginning her journey into pansori. She later learned Chunhyangga and Sugungga from Jeong Jeong-ryeol, and Simcheongga, Heungboga, and Sugungga from Park Dong-sil, mastering both Dongpyeonje and Seopyeonje styles.

Even after the liberation, she continued her studies with contemporary masters such as Jeong Eung-min, Jeong Gwon-jin, Park Nok-joo, Kim Yeo-ran, and Park Bong-sul, never neglecting her training throughout her life.

In 1973, she was designated as the holder of Important Intangible Cultural Asset No. 5 in the pansori genre, and is regarded as a spiritual pillar of Korean pansori for her deep resonance and restrained singing style.

Her stage was not just an artistic performance, but a space of resonance that shared the joys and sorrows of the times and the community.

Q1. What does pansori mean to you, Master?

Pansori was everything in my life. I sang to live, just like breathing.

Many call pansori 'art'. But to me, it was a vessel where the joys and sorrows of people gathered before it was art.

There was a sound for laughing, and a sound for crying. Singing on stage was not about my story, but about conveying the hearts of those sitting in front of me.

When I made a sound, I always heard the sighs of parents, the weariness of women, and the laughter of children behind my voice. The sound was the life of the people, and I tried to sing that life together.

Q2. What is the most unforgettable moment you had while performing pansori?

I vividly remember performing in a shabby theater right after the war ended. The audience was starving and exhausted, and there were no smiles on their faces.

When I started singing Simcheongga, at first everyone was expressionless. However, when I reached the part where “Simcheong opens her eyes,” sobs erupted from all over the audience. That crying was not just simple sadness.

People who had lost their families, those who were losing their support in life, cried together, holding onto each other's shoulders. It was a moment when a single sound opened hearts and drew out tears, connecting strangers.

At that moment, I realized that pansori is not an individual skill, but a way to sing the tears and laughter of an era that everyone bears together.

Q3. I heard you always had something to say to your students.

I always said this.

“Sound is not technique, it is heart.”

Of course, pitch, rhythm, vocalization, and breathing are important. But that alone does not make a living sound. If the heart of the singer does not move, the heart of the listener will not move either.

The hardest training I had when learning from my master was not refining my voice, but learning how to empty and fill my heart. The sound produced by someone who has deeply experienced life has resonance without embellishment. So I urged my students to become people who can translate life into sound.

Q4. Why is the transmission and preservation of pansori important?

Tradition is not simply about holding onto the old. It contains the sighs and joys of our ancestors, the stories of the community supporting each other.

Forgetting pansori means forgetting how our people laughed and cried. If that memory disappears, what will we hold onto in the future?

I believe that preserving pansori is not just about preserving music, but about continuing the memory of humanity and community.

Q5. What resonance can pansori provide to people living today?

Today's youth live fast and fiercely. However, emptiness and loneliness do not easily disappear.

When you listen to pansori, you discover your heart within the old voices. You laugh and cry, and find hope again amidst sadness. That is the power of pansori.

Pansori whispers like this.

“Life is a story intertwined with joy and sorrow.”

In the moment we listen to and share that story together, we gain comfort and the strength to live again.

Q6. Finally, if you have any words you would like to leave for future generations?

I have sung pansori all my life, but it was not my song, it was our song. The sound may fade, but the resonance will remain in the hearts of people and continue across generations.

I believe.

If someone continues the sound with sincerity, pansori will resonate and bring laughter to another generation beyond a thousand years. Until that day comes, the sound will live on with our breath.

📌 Editor's Note

This article is a fictional interview reconstructed based on the life and activities of Master Kim So-hee, as well as the records and testimonies left behind.

Breath Journal aims to convey tradition not as a simple past, but as a living resonance connected to today's life.