- As an athlete named Yuna Kim
- No Pain, No Gain
- Two mentors in Canada
- Awakening and Glory
- Destiny
- Gems
- The Art of sorrow
- Self-acceptance
As an athlete named Yuna Kim
After winning a silver medal at the 2014 Sochi Olympics, Yuna Kim retired from figure skating as she had previously announced. After the competition in Sochi, a reporter asked Yuna,
"Do you want to be remembered as the gold medalist from Vancouver?"
She replied,
"I want to be remembered not just as a gold medalist in any competition, but as an athlete named Yuna Kim." (The Hankyorehere Feb.22,2014)
It is rare to find an athlete with such a perfect record as Yuna Kim. She has had few ups and downs and has consistently produced outstanding results.
She has won all four major competitions: the Grand Prix Finals, the Four Continents Championships, the World Championships, and the Olympics, and has finished on the podium in every game she has played.
Perhaps the most memorable event is the gold medal she won at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics. Yuna was perfect in Vancouver, not a metaphor, without exaggeration. She broke world records in both the short program and the free skate, setting new world records overall.
So when she is introduced, it is always with the phrase "Vancouver Olympic gold medalist" and often with a picture of her in that striking blue outfit, skating to George Gershwin's "Concerto in F".
Such is the nature of the media. But what she wants is to be remembered not for her brilliant performance, but for the athlete named Yuna Kim.
What kind of athlete was Yuna Kim?
When we collect her words after her retirement, we realize that her life as an athlete was full of pain and suffering. At an event in 2015, Yuna said,
"80% to 90% of the 17-18 years of my life as an athlete are painful memories."
"I don't have a few percent of memories where I felt happy." (Korea Central Daily July.28,2015)
And in an interview in 2020, when asked, "If you could go back to any moment in your 10 years as an athlete, which one would it be?" she replied,
"If I had to choose one, I would still choose the moment I finished my last Olympic free skating. The pressure was off, I had done my job, and I felt 'finished'. I felt the greatest happiness at that moment." （YouTube 2020.03.04 ）（YouTube 2021.07.20）
Yuna Kim is an athlete who has taken pain and suffering, skated to fulfill her mission, and transformed it into art. Before Vancouver, injuries and loneliness never left her. After Vancouver, she could not escape the weight of her destiny of carrying the nation on her shoulders.
This article explores how Yuna Kim overcame her suffering and accepted her destiny. It also demonstrates how this led to her personal growth and artistic depth.
There is a deep prayer and tenderness that embraces sorrow in her skating. I would like to remember Yuna Kim as an athlete who left us with beautiful works full of sanctity and spirituality.
No Pain, No Gain
Yuna Kim was born on September 5, 1990 in Puchon, South Korea. She was five years old when she first put on her skates. She was bored with ballet and violin, but she was fascinated by the fun of skating.
When she went to elementary school and finished her advanced skating class, her coach told her mother,
"Yuna has a gift. She could be a figure skater. "
Although they were not financially well off, seeing Yuna's fascination with skating, her parents decided to follow the coach's suggestion. She would receive special training to become a professional figure skater.
In 1998, Yuna was impressed by Michelle Kwan's performance at the Nagano Olympics. She felt there was something special about Kwan's skating that no other skater could match.
Michelle Kwan is one of the greatest skaters of the late 90s and early 2000s, along with Irina Slutskaya of Russia.
Kwan takes the theme of the music from the depths of her heart and releases it with enormous energy from the depths of her body. Comfort and grandeur are the hallmarks of her skating.
Yuna's nature responded to Kwan's artistry.
"I want to skate like that!"
She taped Kwan's performance and watched it over and over. She learned Kwan's moves, imitated her facial expressions, and played "Olympic games." Her ability to express herself at such a young age amazed everyone around her.
Yuna began training to become a figure skater like Kwan, but the rigorous training pushed the limits of what the girl's body could tolerate. As a junior, Yuna was often injured and always in pain.
It is a difficult question to determine how much stress should be placed on an athlete's body from childhood to teenage years, and the stress should be appropriate to the individual circumstances of the body's natural development.
The fact that Yuna kept getting injured means that the load was too much.
Since Korea was a backward country in figure skating at that time, there was no special rink for figure skating, so Yuna had to practice at the rink early in the morning or late at night before it opened to the public.
The rink was brutally cold and the ice was not in good condition. And of course, she had to study at school during the day. As a result, she was unable to get the sleep and rest she needed.
If you continue to practice hard under such circumstances, you will get a reaction as pain somewhere in your body. However, due to the short history of Korean figure skating and the lack of accumulated training culture, the schedule based on sports medicine was not applied.
In addition, in East Asia, such as Korea and Japan, there is an asceticism that regards enduring pain as a virtue and resting as a vice. As a result, Yuna, who was in pain, could not receive proper care.
Her autobiography, published just before the Vancouver Olympics, describes how difficult those days were for her. The following is a description of the time when she was in the sixth grade and was seriously considering quitting figure skating.
At that time, I was dissatisfied with everything in the world.
(...)
Repeating the same exercise every day was boring and tasteless, I felt like a robot, and I even thought that I might go crazy if I continued like this.
The hardest thing to bear was the loneliness. I always felt like I was standing alone on the ice, with no one to understand my feelings. No matter how much pain I was in, no one would listen to me. Is this ice the only way for me to live?
「云雀高飞: 金妍儿的7分钟梦剧场」金妍儿（北京科学技术出版社出版 ２０１０）p.53 Translated by the author from the Chinese version of Yuna Kim's autobiography "김연아의 7분 드라마."
A lot of people think about suicide during adolescence, right? When my practice was not going well, I sometimes thought about it. But it was a very delicate word, and in fact I was very afraid of dying. After all, I wanted to live. Haha!
"If I tried to kill myself, would my mother stop me? I'm sure she wouldn't, and she might even be happy to be free," I had a silly thought like that once.
Yuna, op.cit. p.54
In any training or discipline, not just sports, it is necessary to endure pain and loneliness, but as far as Yuna's memory above is concerned, it was still too much.
Even if it was too much, as long as the environment was like that, Yuna had no choice but to accept it and overcome it.
Yuna's motto is "No Pain, No Gain." Without pain there is no gain. Only through pain can we grow. With this principle, she overcame the pain and loneliness that made her think of suicide.
Of course, she loves her mother and skating and has goals as an athlete. But there is always pain.
This "No Pain, No Gain" principle is both Yuna's strength and weakness.
Yuna has endured a lot of pain. It is because of this that she was able to acquire high skills and the strength to overcome pressure. However, if we take pain for granted and even become dependent on it, we will lose the ability to feel joy.
Enduring pain and loneliness, she steadily built up her achievements.
In 2003, she became the youngest ever winner of the Korean National Championships (at the age of 12), and in her final junior season, 2005-2006 (at the age of 15), she won the World Junior Championships.
Here is the free skating program for that season, "Papa, can you hear me?"
The triple + triple jump at the beginning, which later became her trademark, was almost complete. Her shoulders are relaxed and her whole arm movement is smooth and graceful.
Her back, shoulders and elbows gently touch the space to create a great movement. There are no breaks anywhere, the jumps are big and her ice landings are soft. These traits, which blossomed in later years, were on full display in her final program as a junior.
However, she can only truly develop her talent and become the "Queen" if she learns to distance herself from pain. It's hard to keep competing when you're worried about getting hurt again.
She needed a mentor to help her break free from her asceticism and take her to new heights.
In the summer of 2006, Yuna met two mentors in Canada: choreographer David Wilson and Brian Orser, who would go on to train many world champions.
Two mentors in Canada
In May, Yuna traveled to Toronto, Canada to visit Wilson, who was already a well-known choreographer at the time, to plan the next season's program.
The meeting with Wilson was decisive for Yuna's career. Reading her autobiography, the passages that mention him are the most vivid. They must have had something in common. Wilson became Yuna's artistic mentor and confidant.
Wilson had heard about Yuna from Jeffrey Battle, who had choreographed for her the previous season.（The Japan Times 2016.03.15）
“She is really talented, but she is not a very happy skater.”
At that time, Yuna was shy and quiet, didn't laugh much, and cried a lot during training. Wilson, on the other hand, is a happy and entertaining gentleman.
“I spent the first three months, my main focus in life was to get her to smile.”
“Every day I tried to find a way to make her more than smile, to laugh.”
Eventually, Wilson's efforts bear fruit and Yuna begins to change. In her autobiography, she wrote:
Thanks to Wilson's tireless efforts, I began to open up and smile naturally when I met him. With him, my introverted personality slowly began to change. He never once asked me to exaggerate or overcome my shyness. He just quietly supported me in my practice.
(...)
Somewhere along the way, I learned to express myself with confidence and not with pretense. Indeed, it was David Wilson who taught me how to transform what I was too embarrassed to express deep inside me into movement and expression.
Yuna, op.cit. pp.74-75
What did Wilson think of her talent? Here is a quote from the above article.
“Yuna is a chameleon. … I have worked with some really fabulous skaters over the years and out of any of them she is at the top of the list in terms of how quick she learns and how immediately she can mimic what you show her.”
“She hears music on a level that rarely people do,”
“She is never off of her music — ever. Like it’s intrinsically in her.”
"The Lark Ascending" is the first monumental collaboration between Yuna and Wilson. It is a beautiful program, delicate and dainty, perfect for Yuna.
She wrote in her autobiography:
"When I hear this song, I remember the pain in my body at that time."
"It was the most painful program, and the first thing that comes to my mind is the memory of being full of wounds."
She certainly looked in great pain. She obviously hurt her back and couldn't lift her legs high enough. Her physical strength was not enough. She has yet to express the light flight of the lark, which is the theme of this music.
But this work is so beautiful. It gives us a sense of the great possibility that one day she will take flight and fly free in the sky.
As Wilson says, Yuna never leaves the music. The music dwells firmly in a step for acceleration and in the run-up to the jump. Pay attention to the softness of the movement of the arms from top to bottom or from bottom to top, how the shoulders, elbows and wrists move in unison, how gently they touch the space.
See two similar movements: one is to bring the hands together in front of the chest and slowly push them diagonally upward, and the other is to bring one hand from the back of the neck to the front of the chest and extend it diagonally upward as well.
In this simple movement, Yuna can express a variety of emotions, such as prayer, sorrow, joy, and courage. This is the most emotionally rich movement in which Yuna excels, and it is often used in her later works.
In Toronto, where Yuna went to see Wilson, she met another important person, Brian Orser, who would later train Javier Fernandez and Yuzuru Hanyu to become world champions.
He competed in two Olympic Games, in Sarajevo (1984) and Calgary (1988), winning silver medals in both. He won the gold medal at the World Championships in 1987, and since his retirement he has been active mainly in ice shows.
In the spring of 2006, he decided to accept an invitation from his friend Tracy Wilson (bronze medalist in ice dancing at the Calgary Olympics) to become the head coach of the Toronto Cricket Club.
He then gathered professionals in the fields of skating, spinning and choreography and began to form a coaching team. However, he continued to perform in shows as a professional skater and did not focus on coaching. He was still searching for his style as a coach.
And then came Yuna. To Orser at the time, she was a 15-year-old Asian girl whose name he had never heard or seen.
(...) However, when I asked her to skate a little, I was amazed. This is what we call a natural talent, a gift from God, I thought. But she looked unhappy. She didn't have a smile on her face, and she was skating in a very painful way.
「Team Brian」Brian Orser（Kodansha 2014）p.87 A collection of interviews by Japanese publishers. Translated by the author.
Yuna liked Orser's teaching.
After his lesson, I felt very comfortable practicing with him. He didn't try to impose his superior skills on me. He just corrected my mistakes when I made them. He was also not the type of person to talk too much and confuse the students and make them lose focus.
I like his calm personality. He trusts my abilities and helps me find what I need to take the next step.
Yuna, op.cit. p.78
After a summer of training with him, she said to her mother,
"I think it would be nice to train with him. Mom, what do you think?"
She agreed and asked Orser to retire as a professional skater and coach her full time. At first he refused, but after her persistent pleading, he finally decided to accept. After the April 2007 performance, he retired from the show to focus on coaching.
But I still wonder, why Yuna decided to entrust her life to me, who had no track record as a coach. We were honest with them, and they trusted us. And they took a chance and changed my life.
Orser, op.cit. p.136
The "natural talent" found Orser and led him on the path to becoming a great coach.
Yuna and Orser were diamonds in the rough as a skater and a coach. From that point on, the happy relationship between talent and talent inspires and nurtures each other until they win the gold medal in Vancouver.
Orser establishes his coaching style, and Yuna absorbs it and develops her talent. If Wilson is the mentor for art, Orser is the mentor for self-realization and success.
It was in 2007 that Yuna began to receive serious instruction from Orser. According to Orser, her only fault was that she practiced too much.
Yuna was 15 years old when I accepted the offer. It was a time of growth for her, with the Olympics coming up at the age of 19. From my point of view, she was skating too much and that was the reason why she kept getting injured.
Orser, op.cit. p.95
Orser wanted to break the asceticism that Yuna had internalized during her hard training in Korea and instill the joy of skating itself.
To do this, he had to change her training style from the past one that emphasized quantity, where enduring pain was the norm, to one that emphasized good quality practice, even in a short period of time.
But Orser never imposed his ideas on her. He never created a master-slave relationship with Yuna. He always respected Yuna's feelings and through discussion created a style that suited her.
There are a lot of differences between training in Korea when I was younger and training with Coach Brian Orser. The biggest difference is that it's not a relationship where the coach teaches the players and the players learn from the coach.
We always talk to each other with our own ideas. We talk about what we want to express, what we feel, what we think, and we go our way together.
Little by little, my English has improved to the point where I can have such conversations.
The style I had as a child may have suited me then, but Brian's style is better for me now. He understands how I feel and what's going on, listens to me and decides with me what to do. That makes me trust him more and it makes it more fun. That's what I like about Brian and that's what I love about him.
Yuna, op.cit. p.81
Yuna did not immediately understand Orser's policy. She did not stop practicing long and hard. The fatigue built up in her muscles, and without enough rest, she would slip and fall again and again. So the pain never goes away.
With this condition, the 2007-2008 season was, according to Orser, "memorable only because Yuna cried all year." Her back pain worsened, and in February 2008, she had to take a three-week break just before the World Championships.
Although not fully recovered, Yuna competed and won the bronze medal. This result was not satisfactory.
Here is the Exhibition program for the 2007-2008 season, "Only Hope", an insert song from the movie "Walk to Remember".
Although she did not become a world champion, it was a season of great technical improvement under the guidance of Orser's team.
Her arm movements are smooth and her turns and steps are excellent. The technical improvement has given her more room and flexibility.
Now she just has to learn to rest and build up her confidence. Next season will see her awaken.
Awakening and Glory
Reflecting on the previous season, which had been plagued by injuries, in 2008-2009 season, Yuna finally implemented Orser's policy. Cut down on the amount of practice and switched to more intensive practice of about two hours a day, focusing on quality.
As a result, Yuna's body naturally grew larger, gained strength, and relieved her pain. The muscles from hips to back developed to a new level, and feminine fat covered them. She could step on the ice more powerfully, her speed increased dramatically, and jumps became even larger.
In addition, or more importantly, two years after she started working with Orser's team, her relationship with the coaches has grown deeper. A sense of trust developed between the team and Yuna, and according to Orser, by the end of 2008, they were able to communicate without saying a word.
Yuna used to cry all the time, but now she has more room in her heart to smile naturally. The efforts of Orser's team to ease her mind, relieve stress, and build confidence are impressive.
Without their dedication, Yuna's awakening would not have been possible.
Of course, not only us, but every member of my team filled Yuna's loneliness. Choreographer David Wilson, Jeffrey Battle and the rest of the staff kept telling Yuna that she was a special, sweet student.
It is necessary for a player who is fighting an uphill battle to be told, "You have a place to return to."
We all shared our opinions not only about the jumps, but also about every detail of Yuna's hand gestures, the way she used her knees, and the way she looked. It was necessary for her to feel that "I am the star of this rink."
Orser, op.cit. p.99
We spent four years trying to get Yuna's joy out of her, but it's like peeling an onion. We had to peel off all the layers before we could get to the center, and it ended up taking us almost three years.
It took that long to adjust to the cultural changes and training differences and for Yuna to change completely, but it was an interesting process. I enjoyed every minute of it. We had a great relationship. She got better as the season went on and we got better as coaches.
Orser, op.cit. pp. 104-105
The short program "Dance Macabre" for the 2008-2009 season, which was born out of this happy relationship, is a historical masterpiece.
The piece was suggested by choreographer David Wilson. Yuna loved the piece and chose it immediately. According to Orser, when they came across this music, they knew they had turned a major corner in their quest for Olympic gold.
At the 2009 World Championships, having reached the highest level of physical and mental strength, Yuna took the leap to a whole new level.
She transformed into Death and danced violently and enchantingly in the cemetery at midnight.
The sense of unity with the music and the depth of immersion Yuna achieves here is unprecedented.
Music, choreography, body, costumes, makeup, all assertively and in unison create a world of their own. She is a genius who has both the imagination to understand the work and the skill to materialize it.
This awakening was made possible by the development of her back muscles: hamstrings, hips and back. Her jumps, turns, and arm swings are so big, powerful, sexy, graceful, and smooth. It is all due to the maturity of her back and the finesse of her manipulation.
The importance of back control is common to all sports and exercises, but it is especially important in figure skating because the audience spends a great deal of time looking at the skater's back or back space.
Therefore, the creation of the space behind the body is crucial to the expression of figure skating. Yuna's imagination for the invisible space behind her is so rich that her movements look so big and dynamic.
Winning the 2009 World Championships gave Yuna her long-awaited title of World Champion. Orser had some interesting things to say about her after the World Championships.
After winning the World Championships in March 2009, Yuna suddenly matured from a girl to a woman.
I remember that moment very well. After the World Championships, we went to a show in Korea. David and I were waiting in the hotel lobby for her to arrive. Yuna had to give a presentation for a company that was sponsoring her. She was wearing a business suit, her hair down and her braces off.
David and I looked at each other as we saw the beautiful woman walk in confidently and proudly and said.
Oh, our little girl is all grown up now.
She has gained complete confidence and the dignity of a world queen. When the braces were removed, she suddenly became a beautiful woman. She even changed her personality. She has a very relaxed and gentle smile.
Orser, op.cit. p.105
The next goal is to win the gold medal at the Olympic Games in Vancouver.
Having gained full confidence as World Champion, Yuna has no weaknesses. Her support team is solid and they trust each other. They started the 2009-2010 season with fantastic programs.
If she stays calm and performs as usual, she will surely win the gold medal. Orser has drawn up a meticulous schedule.
When and how much effort should she put into which competitions? When should she take a break? She prepared perfectly to be in the best shape for the Olympic Games in February.
However, a month before the Olympics, Yuna suffered a minor ankle injury. But she was in no hurry. Pain was no longer associated with fear and loneliness. She thought, "By resting here, I can be in the best condition for the competition."
I was in perfect shape as I was preparing; my body was light as if I could fly. Yet, in my head, I was thinking, 'There’s no way that this will go as planned. It’s weird that this is going too smoothly.'
And at that moment, I injured my ankle only one month before the Olympics. At that moment I said, 'Yeah, this is how it should be.'
I thought: 'This is the moment for me to breathe so that I can recover my condition by the time I go to the Olympics. That’s probably why I am gifted with an injury now.'
I realised that I know how to take an uncertain situation positively.
Yuna must have had a clear picture of herself performing at her best.
Indeed, she won the gold medal at the Olympic Games with perfect performances in both the short program and the free skate.
In her autobiography, Yuna wrote that George Gershwin's "Concerto in F" was "the most beautiful program I have ever played.
It is certainly different from other works. Unlike other programs, it does not have a clear theme of "story," "emotion," or "character".
The other programs have a clear and understandable theme. If it's an opera or a movie, play its story and characters. Even if there is no story, there is always something to act out or express emotion, whether it is a courtship, a prayer, or a lark in the sky.
And Yuna is good at getting into the characters and resonating with their emotions.
However, there is no such attempt in this "Piano Concert". There are only fragmentary motifs presented by the piano and orchestra: sparkle, exuberance, elegance and charm, but without a unified image. It is pure.
Because of this purity, Yuna herself shines the brightest in this program. There is a mythical glow.
The story of Yuna's self-realization, the passion of the team of coaches who supported her, and the enthusiasm of the Korean people who pinned their national pride on her success are beautifully sublimated.
In this happy union of self-realization and national pride, there is no trace of the self-righteousness of the word "nationalism." It's clear, brilliantly illuminated, and supremely elegant.
Here is the exhibition program "Meditation from Thais."
It is breathtaking and serene in its beauty. Yuna really excels in the expression of prayer.
The 2008-2009 season was perfect. "007 Medley", "Concerto in F", and "Meditation from Thais" are all brilliant pieces that bring out the best in Yuna.
Destiny
Athletes who win the highest honor, an Olympic gold medal, as teenagers often stumble in their later career development.
Tara Lipinski, who won the 1998 Nagano Olympics at age 15, and Sarah Hughes, who won the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics at age 16, retired the following season and disappeared from the skating world.
Alina Zagitova, who won the 2018 Pyongchang Olympics at the age of 15, did not retire but declared a hiatus in 2019 and did not compete in the 2022 Beijing Olympics.
First, there is the problem of the political nature of the Olympics. Media coverage is overheated, athletes are made into heroes, the public is inflamed with patriotic feelings, and politicians take advantage of this.
Heroes are adored as long as they live up to expectations, and abandoned when they don't. It must be difficult for anyone to maintain mental balance in such a situation.
There is also the problem that figure skating is heavily weighted toward jumps. When women start to gain weight in their late teens, their scores are often sluggish because they can no longer perform the jumps they used to. Some athletes also suffer from the lingering lookism that favors a thin body.
It is unnatural for a sport to peak in the mid-teens.
When Yuna won the gold medal in Vancouver, she was 19 years old. If she had been a few years younger, she might not have had the amazing success she has had since then.
She overcame the rigors of training in Korea, adjusted to life in a foreign country, and was probably much more mature than most 19-year-olds. It worked out well for her.
Even so, after winning all the major competitions at the age of 19, it is understandable that she would suffer from a loss of goals, and the pressure must have been enormous because of the tremendous enthusiasm for Yuna in Korea.
At the end of May, Yuna held a press conference and announced that she would continue her career, "From now on, my goal will be to enjoy competition without any burden," she said.
Then, in August, she announced the termination of her contract with Brian Orser. The real reason for the split is unknown, as Yuna and Orser have different claims.
There is no need to pry. In the process of finding a new style, the difference in direction became obvious. It's just that the relationship of the last three and a half years was so ideal that it didn't turn out to be a nice separation.
That is how it should be understood.
In the three and a half years I was with Yuna, what could I have given her? I'd be happy if she answered, "Brian made me discover the joy of skating.
That would be a much more precious treasure than a gold medal. If she feels that way, then I, David and Tracy have enriched her life. That would be an honor.
I don't know what her answer will be, but I believe I have given Yuna the joy of skating.
Orser, op.cit. pp.132-133
Anyway, Yuna parted ways with Orser and continued her relationship with choreographer Wilson. From the following season onward, she kept her competition appearances to a minimum and performed in ice shows in the off-season until she retired.
For four years, she was unable to find a new clear goal. In an interview after the Sochi Olympics, she said:
"The most difficult thing when I tried to compete in the Olympics again was that I had no clear goal.
At the Vancouver Olympics, I was able to put my life on the line for the gold medal, but after winning the gold medal, I didn't have the same earnestness I had then. It was difficult to practice with sufficient motivation." （Korea Central Daily Feb.21,2014）
Brian Orser also said, "It was obvious that Yuna skated in Sochi out of a sense of duty."
This view is correct. Since Vancouver, she has lacked the fighting spirit and hunger of an athlete. She doesn't seem to have learned any new skills. Even when she wins a competition, she doesn't show any joy. It is true that she skated with a sense of duty.
However, in my opinion, the artistic aspect of her skating has deepened precisely because she has lost the will to be an athlete. The attitude of not wanting to win by getting a high score led to a further blossoming of her artistic potential.
The true value of her skating lies in her works after Vancouver, which seem to lack spirit from the perspective of winning or losing.
Winning a gold medal at the Vancouver Olympics was a goal she had set for herself. This dream and people's expectations were in harmony. After she actually achieved her dream, she lost her goal, but people's expectations continued.
Namely, the role of carrying the nation on her shoulders remained. How to take on this role and how to complete it. That was the question.
Training was mostly hard time, Yuna said repeatedly on different occasions. She couldn't stand practicing for victory anymore.
But she had a wish to spread the skating culture in her country. She also had a job as an ambassador for the Pyeongchang Olympics. As a symbolic figure, Yuna had to continue her career.
World records and consecutive Olympic victories were no longer her goals, but she was still active and competing. It was a kind of contradiction. People mature when they are confronted with unanswerable contradictions. This contradiction changed Yuna's skating.
The figure of the athlete who single-mindedly pursues goals is already gone. What occupied Yuna's mind was the fundamental human question of how to accept one's destiny.
In October 2010, Michelle Kwan's brother-in-law, Calgary Olympic bronze medalist Peter Opegaard, was named Orser's successor as coach.
The free skating program for this season is "Homage To Korea," an arrangement of Arirang and other traditional Korean music. The program is a reflection of her gratitude to her fans and her country.
From any point of view, it's not a program to win a competition. This music is not suitable for figure skating. The attempt to combine Korean folk music with balletic movements seems to have failed. It's not a superior program.
However, the fact that she chose "Homage To Korea" as her first song after deciding to continue her career is symbolic, as it suggests the meaning of her career until her retirement.
In this sense, this work has an important meaning. How did Yuna think about her responsibility, and for what purpose did she skate? Surely, for "Korea."
The modern history of the Korean Peninsula is full of sorrow.
The art of Yuna Kim, who had to carry the nation of Korea, the southern half of the divided peninsula, on her shoulders, was drawn to this emotion of sorrow, although it was probably not intended to be.
Before seeing them, we should check out some of the gems she left behind before retirement.
Gems
First, the short program for the 2010-2011 season, "Giselle."
Next is the exhibition program for the 2011-2012 season. Beyonce's "Fever." This season, by the way, Yuna did not compete, but rested.
She has been sexy since she was a teenager, but as an adult, freed from the stress of competition, she becomes increasingly glamorous. Wilson's sensual choreography brings out the full beauty of the fragrant female body.
And here is the exhibition program for 2012-2013 season, "El Tango de Roxanne." This piece was also used in her short program for the 2006-2007 season when she entered the senior level.
It is a masterpiece that fully captures Yuna's enchanting beauty, which is why it is so popular with her fans. Comparing the two, you can feel her growth and enjoy it even more.
She stays away from the competitive world and enjoys playing a variety of characters.
Before Vancouver, her life was too busy and tense.
By taking her time with each program, the connection between technique and expression becomes stronger. Through the challenge of a variety of works of different colors, Yuna has deepened the inner richness of her expression.
This is another exhibition program from 2012-2013. "All of me" by Michael Buble. Yuna plays a beauty in male attire to a jazz number.
She expresses the loose, elegant rhythms of jazz by adjusting the speed of skating arcs and spins. That is truly a fantastic mastery.
Notice, there is not a single jump in this program. People often say that jumps are the highlight of figure skating, it is possible to create such wonderful work without jumps.
There is one more exhibition program for the 2012-2013 season. Perhaps, this is the best of Yuna's exhibition program, Adele's classic, "Someone Like You."
With artistic sensitivity, skillful use of the body, skating technique, all aspects of excellence, Yuna has reached a state of unparalleled perfection in this program.
Here, Yuna has succeeded in becoming completely one with the ice. No other program has succeeded in extending the body to this extent.
The entire sequence visualizes the transfer of energy generated by the union of the ice and the body, the communion between Yuna and the ice.
One movement gives birth to the next, which in turn invites the next, and so on. A frighteningly sophisticated and exquisite movement is being generated autonomously.
The final gem is Puccini's "Nessun Dorma," the exhibition program for the 2013-2014 season. It was performed at Yuna Kim's very last show, held in May after the Sochi Olympics.
She achieved complete success as an athlete by winning the gold medal at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics. For the next four years, she struggled with the loss of her goals, but tried her hand at various programs and delivered a flawless performance at the Sochi Olympics in 2014.
As an athlete and an artist, she has reached an ultimate level. Perhaps it's because of her solitary status, but she's more than a queen, almost monstrous, with a tremendous presence.
So majestic and sublime that the audience seemed to be at a loss as to how to react.
The Art of sorrow
Again, the modern history of the Korean Peninsula is full of sorrow.
In 1910, the Korean Empire was annexed by the Empire of Japan. With the expansion of territories and intensification of wars, colonial rule was strengthened, and Japanization led to the destruction of identity and forced removal to battlefields, factories, and military brothels.
In the 21st century Japan, historical revisionism is rampant, attempting to trivialize or erase the history of these perpetrations.
After Japan lost the war and left the peninsula in 1946, the Korean War began as the confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union intensified, resulting in the division of the peninsula into North and South.
In 1950, the Korean War began and lasted for three years, with the battle lines shifting widely across the peninsula that the entire peninsula became burnt to the ground. The exact number is unknown, but some estimate that 10% of the total population of 30 million lives were lost.
After the ceasefire and division, there were still many tragedies in the process of winning democracy from military dictatorship in South Korea. North Korea is a closed country, so internal details are unknown, but news of purges and starvation never cease.
The "Cold War" on the Korean Peninsula is not over, as various interests of neighboring countries are intertwined and progress toward reunification continues to ebb and flow.
In the land of the peninsula lies unhealed sorrow. Yuna Kim's later works, beginning with "Homage to Korea," were drawn to this sorrow. The sorrow found her.
The free skating program "Les Misérables" in the 2012-2013 season, the short program "Send in the Clowns" and the free-skating program "Adios Nonino" in the 2013-2014 season. In these three pieces, Yuna explored how people can live with sorrow.
First, here is "Les Miserables."
"Les Misérables" has been translated into English as "The Wretched", "The Miserable Ones", and so on. As the title suggests, Victor Hugo's epic novel is a story of miserable people tossed about by a tragic fate.
Hugo heroically portrays those who live a miserable life full of sorrow and misery, but try not to lose their noble spirit.
We do not live in the time of the French Revolution, but we all know how hard life is. Most of life is a losing battle, happiness is short-lived, and hardship is frequent.
Often we lose faith, abandon our ideals, become despicable, and become obsessed with envying and pulling down those who seem to be happy. That is human nature.
But even the most ordinary person has a desire to be proud of himself and to live a virtuous life. Dignity lies in being able to maintain this kind of mind in the midst of miserable circumstances and suffering.
The most important thing for human beings is dignity, and to protect dignity we need courage. We must have the courage to fight for our noble spirit. This is a struggle with ourselves, a heroic act that we all do every day.
One of the important missions of the art form of dance is to manifest these values and virtues.
Yuna's "Les Miserables" beautifully expresses the courage and dignity of human who defies fate and refuses to fall into despicable ways.
This is something that the teenage Yuna could never have done. Only by choosing a career in which she lost her goals and continued to face contradictions was she able to embody this majesty.
Next is "Send in th Clowns."
In "Les Miserables," Yuna portrayed a heroic figure who overcomes sorrow. In "The Crown of Sorrow," on the other hand, she takes a very different approach, expressing the human attitude of being close to sorrow, walking with it, and embracing its life.
This is compassion. Compassion is the work of the heart to be close to sorrow.
In contrast to "Les Miserables," this program gently embraces the weakness and meanness of human beings who fail to show heroism and courage and sell out their noble spirits.
Heavenly beautiful. There is love for mankind and prayers to God. This is the most serene, sacred and religious program in Yuna Kim's entire career.
And the last dance is Astor Piazzolla's tango "Adios Nonino." Nonino is the nickname of Piazzolla's father, and this song was dedicated to him when he passed away.
At the end of her career, Yuna chose a passionate requiem. This is a farewell to her skating life.
Her feelings are complicated. Most of her time as an athlete was hard. Not even a few percent of her memories were happy. But she had accepted her destiny and chosen it herself. She chose to love her life with all its pains and joys.
Pain, determination, joy, forgiveness, peace... In these four minutes, Yuna recalls her skating career and says goodbye.
This is a very different Yuna from the one we saw in Vancouver.
In her late teens, Yuna was a goddess, like a shaman in her own right. She carried the expectations of the Korean people on her shoulders and performed flawlessly, creating immense catharsis and joy.
But now she is not. Yuna is an ordinary person with a fragile, weak and vulnerable body. As a normal person, she expresses the universal theme of "love and separation" with unparalleled elegance and grace.
After the performance, Yuna cried in the waiting room. Many people assumed that these were tears of regret for the silver medal due to the questionable judging.
But this was not the case. The reason for her tears, she explained, was that she had been in so hard, and all the tears accumulated over the years had all come out at once.
Here are some of Yuna's words after the competition.
"There is a dominant atmosphere that people are interested in scores and results, and the reasons for my tears seem to be interpreted that way. But to be 100 percent honest, there is no regret or heartache in my tears. You can trust me."
"Everyone seems to think I'm pretending to be okay, but really, I'm just happy that it's over."（The Hankyorehere Feb.27,2014）
"I have no interest in winning two championships in a row. I just wanted to finish my last competition well and won't regret it no matter what the result is."
"I'm satisfied to show you everything I've prepared for you."（The Hankyorehere Feb.22,2014）
It is clear from these words that she entered her second Olympics to finish. As Yuna struggled with her motivation and continued to worry, what mattered was not the result, but the way to finish.
What Yuna has embodied in her skating career is the hope, dream, and pride of Korea. For her, quitting skating would mean quitting carrying the nation on her shoulders. In the Sochi Olympics, Yuna challenged that great task.
In this context, Yuna presented the serene and solemn "Send in th Clowns" and the elegant and passionate "Adios Nonino," both of which focus on the theme of sorrow.
They are in stark contrast to the two works from four years ago. So why did the last two works turn out to be such sober ones? As mentioned above, I think the unhealed sorrow of the Korean peninsula led her the path.
In the hours of aimless struggle, she may have heard the voice of Korea without knowing it. She may have thought that healing the sorrow was the last thing she needed to do. And she did it well. She wept because she was sure.
In this light, her words, "I just wanted to finish my last competition well," sound a bit like a prayer.
The art of Yuna Kim is the art of sorrow. When we share sorrow and we share pain, we can unite with others.
This is not an attempt to force her art to be political. Politics exists where people live. Sometimes we have to bear the political nature that we do not want. She just didn't avoid it.
As far as I know, she has never specifically mentioned the political situation between North and South Korea. But she never forgot to pray for peace.
Therefore, her last exhibition program is "Imagine."
Self-acceptance
After retirement, Yuna Kim's main activities are as an ambassador for sporting events, appearing in commercials, and as a fashion model.
She also coaches younger students and helps with choreography, but does not appear to be a full-time teacher.
Her social networking sites are not frequently updated, and there is little information about her personal life. The word "celebrity" seems to be the most appropriate to describe her presence.
An athlete's career is short. Especially at the level of Olympic gold medalists, they experience in a very short time the hardships, decisions, and struggles that ordinary people experience over decades.
They are forced to mature. Yuna's ten years as an athlete were probably such a rigorous and intense experience.
After the forced maturation, she seems to be taking her time to get back to her normal life. In an interview in 2019, she said about her daily life after retirement:
"It's nothing special. I watch a movie I've been wanting to see. It's not a very pleasant moment, but I've lived my whole life without such trivial things, so such moments make me happy."
"Thinking of myself as a truly normal person, I want to strive to live a balanced life and not be biased one way or the other."（Wow! Korea 2019.10.17）
I don't speak Korean, so I can't understand the nuances of the original language, but this all-too-common phrase struck a chord. It's about self-acceptance. She accepts and loves herself for being truly normal. So calm and natural.
Since her retirement, Yuna has appeared on the ice show twice, in 2018 and 2019. I would like to conclude this article by introducing "House of Woodcock", the theme song for the Paul Thomas Anderson film "Phantom Thread," released in 2018.
Very beautiful.
There is nothing ostentatious about its beauty, it is modest and lovely. There is a tenderness that seems to love the fragile.
Yuna Kim is sincere in her own life. She loves herself as an ordinarily person. This "House of Woodcock" shows the peace of mind that Yuna has after four years of retirement.
To live with sincerity, to love oneself, and to find peace. For a person, this could be more valuable than a world record or a gold medal.
