What is a friend? Someone you can rely on, someone you can turn to, someone who is constant, unchanging in loyalty, whose company you enjoy. Well, every self-respecting Korean (Confucian) gentleman had four friends: his brush, his ink stick, his ink stone, and his paper: constant, loyal and a source of joy. These four things were always available in the gentleman's room and whenever he was bored, it was to their friendship that he turned. We tried to find a finer analogy between the Four Friends and the life values that they might represent which could have been handed down through the long generations of the rich cultural heritage of Korean humor, but failed. So it seems to be up to us to invent something! The brush you can imagine easily. It represents steadfastness, companionship. It accompanied that self-respecting gentleman everywhere because in those days there were no places to rush to and everyone wasn't "busy." In fact non-busyness was the order of the day. In spite of this hard adherence to doing nothing, boredom hit every now again and so, according to the National Treasure of brushes, Mr. Kwong Jin-tae, the gentleman would take up his trusty brush and paint a picture -- to relieve the boredom. In order to create the art work, he needed an ink stick and an ink stone which represent constancy, loyalty, and paper, the fourth of the Four Friends, which represents enjoyment because it comes in many different forms.

It seemed a good idea to begin with the brush because it was the most constant friend. In order to learn about brushes, we turned to the maestro, Mr. Kwong Jin-tae, who is the National Living Treasure of Brushes. It was a joy to meet him. The story of his life consists of brushes and almost nothing else. He started making them when he was 14 years-old; of course I asked why. "Well," He replied, "a man visited our house and, because we were so poor and I had no other idea, I thought it was a good choice." He learnt with his teacher for ten years and then set out on his own.

His big break came after the Korean war, when everything was destroyed: the first thing that everyone wanted and needed was a brush. "There were only 28 brush makers in Korea at the time, so we all did a roaring business!" He continued, " You have to remember that in those days the brush was everything. Starting from the carpenter who marked the place where he was going to cut the wood, brushes were central to every aspect of life. After all there were no pens and no pencils then. In the past, men didn't rush around attending power luncheons or doing international deals. They carried their brush in the sleeve of their coat (rolled up in a little rice stalk mat to keep it straight) and went around to contests, or joined friends to write poetry."

"Can you do calligraphy?" I asked Mr. Kwong. "Oh no," he replied, " I only know how to make brushes. In fact for most of my life I get up in the morning, eat something and then just make brushes until midnight." "Yes" said his wife, "We've been married for 43 years and all we've done is make brushes." Sounded like a complaint so I checked "Are you bored?" "Oh no! There's no time to be bored, we just make brushes." Her husband quickly explained, "In those days there was no TV, no radio and we didn't know what was going on in the world at all, we just made brushes."

Brushes in Korea have a sketchily known history, like many things Korean, either there were no records kept or they were destroyed. Apart from a brush found in a tomb dating back 2,000 years, little is known about brushes beyond about 500 years back. There were 200 kinds of brushes when Mr Kwong started. Brushes were not only used for marking something (carpenters) and writing, but they played an important role in cloth making and designing, and many household jobs. Nowadays, Mr. Kwong only makes calligraphy brushes.

By this time I was really curious, I hadn't expected brushes to be so interesting. "So what are brushes made of?" I finally asked. "The best brushes are made of the hair of a big male goat. The hair should be smooth, strong and straight and so the best hair is cut after snow falls of January and February. The absolute best is the hair of the white goats from Northern Cholla Province by the sea and the hair from under the legs is really fine because it has been protected. Live goats are not shorn, the hair is removed from dead animals." In addition to goat's hair, a baby's first hair makes an excellent brush -- Mr. Kwong's personal favorite. Feathers can be used and sometimes small brushes can be made from squirrel tail hair. Unusual brushes are made of bamboo finely shredded with a needle (must take forever) and tightly bound pine needles.

Once you have the goat hair, it has to be treated in order to remove the natural oil in it -- otherwise it won't hold the ink. The hair is laid down with layers of ash and a heavy, flat weight is placed on top in order to squeeze out the oil. This is the traditional method, nowadays they use an electrically heated iron block which squeezes the oil -- with the ash -- in just five minutes. Then the bristles are put together and tied with string. For the king or famous scholars, gold and silver thread was used. The end which is to be fitted into the handle is burned to make the base more solid. Mr. Kwong showed us that the properly made base cannot be squeezed. After that, the bound bristles are fitted into the handle.

Brush handles are made of almost anything: china, silver, iron, brass, horn, and bamboo. Mr. Kwong prefers bamboo but his son complains that in the shop sometimes the bamboo warps and no-one wants to buy the brush. There are no rules as to the length of the handle, it should just look and feel nice. When not in use, brushes are stored hanging on special stands made of wood. In this way they dry and don't rot.

Finally, I asked Mr. Kwong about how to judge a good brush. "It should be very soft, should look nice, be even pretty. And when you squeeze the bristles together, the tip makes a very slight curve, it isn't straight." I looked around the apartment as we were leaving. "So, how many apprentices do you have to carry on?" He bowed his head, "No-one is interested these days. They all want to go and learn driving. Brush-making is difficult, it's a craft, you can't be greedy, you can't be interested in money if you really want to do it." "And your son?" I asked brightly. "Oh, he learnt in the womb, of course," Mr. Kwong's wife said, "he knows how to make brushes." "But he never does..." Mr Kwong interjected.