The nonggi is the project I'm deepest in right now. I started it in 2023 with the HANA Center, an immigrant rights organization in Albany Park. We run workshops where community members and the public are invited to make nonggi with us — traditional Korean folk banners.

I love this project because, as a Korean American working with a Korean American advocacy organization, we're drawing on our own roots and culture. And Korean culture is so much about the collective: collective action, community. In Korean farming culture, nonggi are made collectively, and they blur work and play. Around the big moments of harvest, when people have to work together, they make banners, drum, and cook together for days. It's meant to motivate people and bring them together, to work and sweat and find catharsis together.

The nonggi follow three tenets: to call for worldly blessing, for societal harmony, and to protect from evil. All things we need right now. They're also made to speak to the gods: to ask for rain or harvest, to make commands and demands. It's even believed that when the community gathers with the nonggi, drumming and celebrating, the gods travel through and receive the message. So the nonggi don't just speak to the gods. They're a conduit for them.

I explain all of that on the first day, because these are multi-day workshops, something I love. My other projects are shorter, and storytelling and community building can't be rushed. More time means fewer people can commit, but it's been rich for the ones who do. The bigger nonggi are about eight feet tall and take real work to finish. So we cover the history first, and then people think through how it connects to this moment: What is the hope I have for society, for community? Which gods do I want to speak to, my family, my community, my representatives? What personal stories and experiences connect back to that message? That's how the storytelling gets drawn out, over four sessions of about three hours each.

Mainly, people paint on them. They're tall and vertical, with a different colored fabric along three edges, the sides and the bottom. Traditionally those edges flow, and they're called jine-bal, which translates to centipede feet, which I love. We sew them as blocks of color, and people cut out whatever shape they want; the middle is where they usually paint. The techniques vary widely. We have traditional calligraphy ink. My mom is trained in ink painting, and since she moved to Chicago two years ago she's come to every workshop, so she does the demo for anyone who wants to learn. People use fabric paints and markers; I teach photo transfers; there are embellishments to glue on; some people embroider. One participant took hers home and natural-dyed the whole thing. So it's open-ended, but most use those techniques.

The choices mean something. It depends on the maker, but there's usually a lot embedded in them. I use orange because it's my favorite color, or the traditional Korean colors, where each of the five cardinal colors represents something elemental. The HANA Center nonggi represent the organization, and their logo uses the traditional five pillars, so they use those five colors. Each one is different, but it usually ends up some mix of text and image. The worksheet asks: what images or symbols represent something to you and your culture? That might be the magpie, the Korean bird that brings good luck. We have one nonggi with that bird, and one with peony flowers whose message reads, in Korean, I hope all your dreams bloom. People are so clever and thoughtful about their design choices.

This project feels different from my earlier ones: more time, more storytelling. The Protest Banner workshops run about three hours and they're pure chaos. I love the chaos, but I don't get to talk with people the same way; maybe I reach a few. I ask what's your banner, where will you use it, and others. I love the message, but it's nothing like sixteen hours with a group. With the nonggi I had so many chances to walk around and ask, what are you doing, what does this represent to you? And on the last day we set aside time to go around, share, and ask questions. Hearing people's stories, I'm always learning something new.

I do collect the stories, but simply. The more overproduced a community-based project is, the more intimidating it becomes, and people don't respond well to that. So I keep one angled camera and ask the participants who are willing to talk about their nonggi; some of those videos are on my website. But that's been hard. They've already put in sixteen hours, and then I'm asking them to come back, and many say they don't want to be on video, which I understand. So I've also started recording audio on my phone, asking them to talk about their nonggi, and transcribing it. That's worked much better. I have everyone's contact info, so I can get their approval to revisit it. The goal is to gather all of this in one place and, hopefully, make some kind of publication, so I can give copies to everyone who took part. The administrative side of these projects can be a challenge, but it's so important.

Ongoing thread. More from Aram Han Sifuentes to follow.