By Corina Knoll
Photographs by Eric Sueyoshi
Makeup by Ra Beauty Core
Hair by Jin Hee Jang

You could say Angela Park is charmingly honest. The way 19-year-olds tend to be. You could say that, but you’d be beating around the bush, which is something the golfer just doesn’t do.

Take, for instance, our first phone conversation.

“I don’t want to spend my whole day there,” she says when she learns the details of our impending photo shoot and interview. “I still want to be able to do something fun.”

Got it. The call time is switched, and Angela will be freed two hours earlier.

The next morning we’re 35 miles outside of Los Angeles at Robinson Ranch Golf Club, and Angela is gussied up in a flirty cocktail dress. She’s the picture of angelic girlishness, but her spitfire mouth is running gleefully.

Gripping her favorite club head cover — a fuzzy version of that famous flying cartoon squirrel — she asks, “Did you watch ‘Rocky and Bullwinkle’? Are you that old?”

Later, taking notice of the photographer tripping over himself while multitasking, she points out, “At my last photo shoot, it was the photographer’s assistant who was doing all the running around.”

And when asked to hold a golf club like a baseball bat, she sighs, “I hate this pose.”

Then her giggle — let’s call it a nasal guffaw — kicks in, and a roguish grin appears.

“I’m really blunt.”

Duly noted.

***

This is how her caddie explains it, as well as her coach, her brother and even her first coach and his wife: Angela is direct. Angela knows what she wants, then pounces. Angela can be sweet and fun, but is unflinching.

The only person who doesn’t marvel over Angela’s tough-girl wit is Kyung Wook Park. Angela’s father.

He’s a rosy-cheeked man who sports a potbelly and spectacles, whose manner is pleasant, but words are brusque.

At Angela’s photo shoot, when one of the makeup artists tells him his daughter is a star, he laughs. “Is she?” he asks in Korean. “She’s not a star yet.”

See, Kyung Wook is all about tough love — maybe sometimes, too tough.

He thinks it has something to do with being born in North Korea at the height of the Korean War. The eldest of eight children, he served in the military, but then left for Brazil at age 24 in search of farming opportunities. In Sao Paolo he learned Portuguese, met his wife, opened an embroidery business, sent for his relatives and raised three boys: Alexander, Samuel and Paulo.

Then came Angela, six years after his youngest was born. “I think that’s why I’m a tomboy, because I was surrounded by these men,” she says. “My brothers treat me like a little boy. We always used to wrestle, things that guys do to guys.”

In 1994, the Parks decided it was time to head to America to give their children access to better schools. Angela was 9 years old. Her mother, Kyung Ran Lee, stayed behind to run the family business. She was supposed to join them when a new U.S. venture was established, but when that never happened, the next decade would find mother and daughter keeping in touch through long-distance phone calls and rare visits.

“I moved a lot the first couple years,” recalls Angela, who sometimes stayed at various hasukjibs, a living arrangement similar to a boarding house. “It was really hard at first, especially ‘cause I couldn’t speak the language very well. Every time I made a new friend, I would move.”

Her first memories of playing golf are bright, mostly because she liked meeting people on the course. She’d tag along with her brothers to the driving range after school until she began taking lessons.

“Physically, she was a very strong girl,” remembers her first coach, Jay Sinn, whose own daughter Pearl was already an LPGA member. “Her personality was very independent. She grew up with boys so she knew how to survive. And she handled her emotions. I never saw her cry.”

Jay’s wife, Sue, reached out to Angela, and would often whip up Korean meals for her after practice — even bought the preteen her first bra. “She always had tomboy clothes; she liked to eat everything; she loved the kimchi,” Sue recalls. “I have never seen a girl [with] such a strong mind; like, ‘If I don’t do it, there’s no one to look after me.’”

But as tough as Angela was, Sue worried Kyung Wook was tougher.

“You know how Korean fathers are: ‘If you don’t do what I tell you to do, that’s it.’ So every time we talk about Angela, that’s something that aches in my heart.”

Kyung Wook has always been a strict father. He values discipline and despises laziness. But it isn’t because he wants his children to be successful or obedient. He just wants them to live with humility and earn the respect of their peers.

So at age 11, when Angela was playing amateur tournaments and beating everyone in her age group, Kyung Wook acted as if he barely noticed.

“Aren’t you happy that I won?” Angela would ask.

“You’re not that good,” her father would respond. “Be humble. This was lucky, God gave it to you. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He wanted Angela to see the bigger picture. That a win today didn’t matter tomorrow. That discipline would move you forward, but smugness would keep you stagnant.

During those early years, the two traveled to American Junior Golf Association events throughout the year, supported by whatever income Kyung Ran was managing to pull in at the factory. Kyung Wook had attempted to start a business in the States, but it never took off. Despite the financial strain, the parents believed that amateur experience was invaluable to Angela.

With Alexander in college, Samuel in the Marines and Paulo headed for the Navy, the family was geographically divided. Except for father and daughter. Which meant there was ample time to work on a sport she was quickly rising in.

She had fallen in love with the game that stoked the fire of her competitive spirit, but there were days when her father’s words were just too much. She hadn’t practiced hard enough, she needed to wake up earlier, she shouldn’t waste time with her friends. Her father spoke to her in the same way he had to his military sons. With unsullied frankness.

“My dad was really straightforward and very Koreanized,” she says. “It made me feel like I don’t have any emotions — it makes me feel like a guy too.”

When Angela was around 15, it occurred to Kyung Wook that there was maybe a different approach. He didn’t have a rude awakening or a moment of truth. He just started going to church more regularly and took time to rethink his parenting technique.

“Raising Angela, I did a lot of reflection,” he says about the change. “How do you communicate with your daughter so the things I say will be effective, but also comfort her? It’s an ongoing struggle for me to try to communicate with her, but I realized my job is to comfort her in times of need. I’m trying not to be so strict. I have more life experience and I’m trying to teach her that, but at the same time, I don’t want to be a demanding type of father.”

Angela recalls the conversion. “He changed a lot and started treating me with respect, which I’m really thankful for because if he didn’t change, I don’t think I would still be playing. I probably would have quit.”

Now she calls her father her only mentor and the chillest dad on the Tour. And while her father has little knowledge about the sport itself and blends into the background of her tournaments and lessons, unable to communicate in English with her peers and coaches, she credits him with her success.

“Everything my dad has told me to do, at the time I was like ‘Oh my God, I don’t want to do this, Dad, are you joking me? It’s such a bad idea.’ But now that I look back, I can’t really complain about anything he’s told me to do. Which is amazing because he has told me to do a lot of things in my life.”

The relationship is still, however, all about tough love. Kyung Wook won’t stop being brutally honest.

Angela shrugs it off.

“My dad is really the aggressive type, he doesn’t really care if it hurts your feelings, he’ll just say it to you.”

Then she adds, almost proudly, “I’m like that, too.”

*** Continue Reading »

By Chris Paek

After more than 50 years of playing the sax, jazz icon Phil Woods doesn’t owe a compliment to anyone. So when he gave Grace Kelly his hat in the middle of a performance together, it was the ultimate sign of respect for a girl who’s come a long way in a short amount of time.

“He wore this hat on all of his album covers for the past 50 years,” Grace explains. “It was a sweet gesture and really overwhelming.”

Woods isn’t the only big name in the jazz community that’s been impressed by the 15-year-old prodigy. Renowned musicians like Lee Konitz and Randy Brecker rave about her mastery of the alto sax. In her short yet productive career, Grace has already released three CDs (“Dreaming” 2005, “Times Too” 2005, and “Every Road I Walked” 2006), won several composition awards, and has performed at Carnegie Hall and Symphony Hall in Boston, among many other prestigious venues.

Fred Taylor, long-time entertainment manager at the Sculler’s Jazz Club in Boston who’s worked with legends like Miles Davis and John Coltrane, says that Grace’s ability on the alto sax is reminiscent of the great Charlie Parker.

“I swear, she’s channeling some 50 or 60-year-old great artist,” says Taylor. “It just amazes me.”

Music has always been a vital part of the Kelly household. Born Grace Chung in Wellesley, Mass., Grace moved to Brookline, a small suburb bordering Boston, after her parents divorced when she was just 2. Her mother, Irene, remarried Robert Kelly, who then legally adopted Grace and her sister a few years later.

Grace recalls that during Sunday brunch, her mother would love to play Stan Getz records while serving pancakes.

“[He] was my inspiration,” says Grace. “It’s the quintessential saxophone sound. That’s what really drew me to the instrument.”

It took a few years before she had a chance at the sax, however. Believing that classical piano was the gateway to a more concrete understanding of music, Grace’s mother Irene started her on piano lessons when she was 6.

“That didn’t last too long,” recalls her father, Robert, who now manages Grace’s budding musical career. “She wouldn’t be doing the classical work. She’d start with that, and then she’d be playing other stuff, making up her own songs.”

In the fourth grade, Grace settled on the clarinet after learning that her school offered saxophone only to fifth-graders. Halfway through the year, however, she couldn’t wait any longer. She asked her piano teacher, also an accomplished saxophonist, to split their private lessons between the ivories and the sax.

“The first time I blew into the saxophone, I got that nice sound and it felt really satisfying,” recalls Grace. “Nothing like the squeaks I got on the clarinet.”

Since then, Grace has dedicated herself to her craft. Quickly becoming the youngest person to complete the four-year jazz certificate program at the New England Conservatory’s Preparatory School, Grace has showcased her talents far and wide, accepting invitations to jazz festivals as far as Tromso, Norway.

To make time for all the performing and traveling, she does most of her schoolwork independently, studying backstage at gigs and making up tests whenever she can.

“At times things can get overwhelming,” Grace admits. “But I think it’s a great thing to be busy because it keeps everything exciting.”

Her parents attend every gig. They still run a retail craft gallery, but they’ve redirected much of their time and energy into promoting and touring with Grace. Her father/manager Robert, who has a management degree from Boston University, says that he and his wife support his daughter’s dream of pursuing a career in music.

“We all know what the goal is and what we want to do,” says Robert. “We want her to be happy in whatever she chooses to do.”

For now, Grace says that she enjoys just being a teen, hanging out with high school friends whenever she’s not composing, performing or writing music. But she’s got big dreams for her future.

“One day, I hope to not only collaborate with jazz artists but people like Sting and Paul McCartney, some of my pop idols,” says Grace, who sports the Phil Woods hat on her latest album cover. “I want to keep spreading my music to as many people as possible.”

By Suevon Lee

Over the last three years, Cindy Hwang has invited nearly 200 individuals into her New York City living room studio. There, against the backdrop of a bare white wall and a hardwood floor, the photographer has snapped full-length portraits of actors, teachers, comics, athletes, executives and retirees — individuals who would appear to not have much in common with each other, save for one trait: their Korean ancestry.

It is part of a photojournalism collection she calls The KYOPO Project, an ongoing endeavor in which she captures the portraits and stories of a cross-section of individuals of Korean descent who have spent the greater part of their lives in places such as the United States, Europe or South America.

The collection, which debuts as a photographic exhibit at the Korea Society in New York next spring, revolves around the term kyopo, which refers to individuals of Korean descent who grew up or live in a country outside the Korean peninsula.

“This project is way beyond the Korean factor. It hits different parallels of different types of struggles, especially those that other immigrants have had,” she said. “You deal with a spectrum of individuals of various demographic and socioeconomic levels.”

Hwang, a 33-year-old Korean American who grew up in Rockville, Md., a middle-class suburb of Washington, D.C., avoided using any specific criteria in selecting her participants. It was the organic process through which she found her subjects that lends the collection its sense of intimacy: all of those photographed are friends or acquaintances referred to her by previous participants, resulting in a heterogeneous sample of individuals unearthed largely through word of mouth.

What has resulted so far is a collection of individuals who vary from well-known figures such as author Chang-Rae Lee, actor Daniel Dae Kim and Ahn Trio violinist Angella Ahn to everyday figures including a nail salon owner, a university professor, a pop culture magazine editor, an architect and the first Korean American female fighter pilot to fly an Apache helicopter.

“They’re not hand-chosen, they’re not researched, I just kind of left the book open,” said Hwang, of her profile subjects, who range in age from five to 90.

“[The collection] remarks on such a nourishing message, which is being open-minded and accepting of every individual. A lot of people said ‘Yeah, I’m Korean, but it doesn’t define all of me.’”

Hwang continues to add to her collection of portraits, hoping eventually to turn it into a traveling multimedia exhibit with an accompanying Web site and book. She is currently in talks with the Asian Pacific American Program at The Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., to set up an exhibit there next year.

A 1997 graduate in fashion design from the Fashion Institute of Technology, Hwang was exposed to photography at an early age. Her father, Sae Hwang, was a computer programmer and amateur photographer who moved his family to the United States from Korea when Cindy was 1.

She recalls a specific photo he took that still hangs in her family’s living room: an image of her mother and older brother walking along a beach, taken using a red filter on an Asahi Pentax camera he bought from Japan. “It’s the first thing I think of when I think of my dad and photography. He always had a passion for photography,” she said.

Following work as a fashion stylist and a stint in the editorial department at the now-defunct Mademoiselle magazine, Hwang began concentrating on photography in earnest about five years ago. She maintains a living by shooting portraits and advertisements for corporate campaigns.

Despite its clean, commercial look, no stylists are incorporated into The KYOPO Project. Instead, Hwang asks each of her profile subjects to come dressed as they wish to be seen in the photograph. Some have appeared on her doorstep in a T-shirt and jeans — others, in elaborate ball gowns.

In each portrait, the individual stands straight ahead, looks directly at the camera, and wears a neutral expression. Hwang deliberately chose the uniform composition so “the viewer can compare and contrast, visually, without any sense of interruption.”

For those who know Hwang, this open-ended approach reflects the artist herself. “It’s very consistent with who she is,” said close friend Shizuka Otake. “She’s the kind of person who doesn’t want to decide, ‘This is exactly what I want to portray.’”

The idea for The KYOPO Project first materialized in November 2004, when Hwang observed a lack of photographers addressing Korean culture and identity in a current context.

“I wanted to develop a book that explored contemporary issues, in this case duality of cultures and identities among a group of people that had Korean ancestry,” she said. “You have these interesting, varying relationships with language and culture whether it’s within the culture the [kyopos] reside in or the culture that they don’t.”

Hwang retains a near-photographic memory of all of her subjects, recalling facts about each of them in precise detail as she previewed the digital photos stored on her laptop during an interview.

Before snapping their photo, Hwang asks her subjects to respond to a series of questions relating to culture, self-identity and biographical information. Her subjects’ responses will appear as blocks of text next to their photos in the book, intended to highlight the diversity of the Korean diaspora.

“It’s about giving the audience their first impression without giving them all the answers,” she said of the photos-only exhibit.

For some participants, the greatest challenge was answering open-ended questions before the shoot, such as, “What does being Korean American mean to you?”

“It was something I never had to verbalize so completely before,” said Daniel Juhn, 42, a Korean American born and raised in New Orleans and who now works for a biodiversity conservation environmental organization in Washington, D.C. “What I had found was that as I started to put it down in words, the more insight it brought me, the more revelations it brought me, and the more difficult I found it to be.”

Hwang said she hopes the project will deliver inspiration to others, especially for younger generations still carving out their life path. “It’s constantly evolving, the definition of Korean American. Different facets of it have changed. If it helps incite other people’s interests, I think I’ve done part of my job here.”

By Brian Shin

Yookgaejang

Instant ramen offers a fast fix version of this spicy beef soup, but don’t be fooled. The real stuff harbors flavorful shreds of slow-cooked beef and is known for its blister-hot broth that comes in a rich orange-red. Slurp it down and your tummy will stay toasty for hours.

Recommended for: Chilly, lonely nights. Trust us, what you’ll be burping won’t smell pretty.

Miyeokguk

It’s tradition that new mothers feast on this breakfast of champions, said to be filled with iron-rich nutrients good for mom and baby. But this soothing seaweed soup is mild enough for just about anyone to enjoy. Don’t be turned off by those dark ribbons floating in the bowl — they’re thick, unsalted versions of gim, and very filling.

Recommended for: Postnatal mothers. Miyeokguk is also traditionally served on birthdays.

Sundubu

From kimchi seafood to beef curry, this sizzling tofu soup comes in a multitude of variations, and usually three levels of spiciness. Koreatowns tend to have restaurants devoted to this bubbling hotpot and serve it 24 hours a day. A little goes a long way and it’s usually available for less than $10.

Recommended for: Hot ‘n spicy food enthusiasts. Even the mild version will do a tap dance on your tongue.

Galbitang

In summary, it’s baby back ribs in a bowl, but the result is so much more poetic. Boiled for hours to create a savory broth, galbitang is a rich, lip-smacking treat. The added daikon radish, spring onion and garlic slices only enhance what is already a perfect meal.

Recommended for: The holidays. Galbitang was once considered an indulgence when meat was scarce.

Samgyetang

Check out chicken soup, Korean style. Restaurants specializing in samgyetang serve this popular dish around the clock, a perfect late night meal after a long night of shaking your booty at the club. Samgyetang is known for its whole chicken stuffed with glutinous rice and served in a ginseng-tinged broth. Add dried jujube fruit, garlic, ginger and rice, and it’s ready to serve.

Recommended for: Hangovers. Nothing revitalizes like protein in a bowl.

Jjamppong

A shellfish lover’s dream come true, this popular seafood soup is another one of those Korean-Chinese crossovers. The cousin of that black bean favorite jjajjangmyeon, jjamppong is all about a spicy red broth and thick wavy noodles. Nosh your way through the fish and shrimp, but save room for the vegetables to balance your palate.

Recommended for: Noodle maniacs. Jjamppong is best eaten in a combination meal that includes jjajangmyeon.

Soojaebi

An inexpensive meal, soojaebi was a staple during the Korean War. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t rich in flavor. With chicken stock as its base, the beauty of this soup is in the simple flour-and-water dumplings that are pinched by hand, then cooked in a boiling broth. And don’t pick over the zucchini — in this soup, squash is king.

Recommended for: A family dinner. Traditionally served in a large clay pot with fresh kimchi, soojaebi allows everyone to dip in for seconds.

Ddeokguk

This rice cake soup is traditionally served to ring in the Lunar New Year. While the ovals of ddeok are its prize possession, it would be nothing without the steaming garlicky broth served with egg strips, beef slices and a garnish of crumbled seaweed. And the version that’s served with mandu? Can you say heaven in a bowl?

Recommended for: Lunch. Break up your office tedium with a meal that tastes like home.

  By Corina Knoll       Photographs by Eric Sueyoshi

TOP TO BOTTOM: C.S. Lee shows his dramatic side. • Lee as Vincent Masuka and Michael C. Hall as Dexter. • The cast of Showtime’s “Dexter.”

“I thought he was Chinese,” he says, his voice incredulous. “His character’s Chinese! I swore to God he was Chinese.”

Actor C.S. Lee is having difficulty digesting the fact that Rex Lee of HBO’s “Entourage” is a fellow Korean American.

Ahh, but it’s all a bit ironic, since the former Lee is himself often mistaken for Chinese, the ethnicity of his character Harry Tang on NBC’s “Chuck.” And the 35-year-old spends the other half of his working days playing Japanese American Vincent Masuka on Showtime’s “Dexter.”

But really, ethnic background aside, what Lee really wants to be playing right now is the back nine. Which is why he’s here at Majestic Golf Land on the corner of Melrose and Vermont in Los Angeles. A driving range on the edge of Koreatown, it’s the closest thing to a fairway he can get if he needs a quick golf rush. Not far from his home in Silver Lake, this place has become one of his favorite haunts, thanks to the automated machine where a new ball magically rises on a tee after every swing.

“Golf is a meditation for me,” Lee says as he situates his blue suede Pumas on the artificial turf, then nestles a Calloway driver next to the ball. “It’s a good way to get focused.”

The swing that comes next is far from smooth, and his ball goes hurtling to the right. It’s not pretty.

Lee doesn’t flinch. He’s only been playing for a year. He has never taken lessons, just watches the Golf Channel. He plays two or three times a week and doesn’t use a cart, preferring to walk the course and think about his next shot.

As a kid in Vancouver, Wash., Charlie Soong Lee preferred a sport at the other end of the spectrum: football. He played running back all through junior high and as a freshman for Hudson’s Bay High School.

“Then my sophomore year came around, and I was like, ‘Hey Ted, you grew! Wow!’ ‘Oh hey Bill, you grew too!’”

Relegated to playing quarterback for the JV team, Lee started looking into other activities. All signs pointed to the stage, especially since he had become an art house film buff. It also didn’t hurt that his school had a decent theater program, and that even jocks were known to juggle acting with practice.

His first play was Larry Shue’s “The Foreigner,” and he played a Ku Klux Klan member with no lines.

“At the end, we’d come out for the curtain call, I take off my hood and people would say, ‘Heeeey,’” he says, laughing.

Lee ended up getting a full scholarship to study theater at Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle. His father, a mechanic, and mother, a seamstress, were relieved they wouldn’t need to help with tuition, but were anxious about his career path. Then Lee announced he’d be heading to Yale to pursue an M.F.A.

“They know Yale,” he says. “That gave them a little more comfort.”

Afterward, he headed to New York to join the theater scene. Odd jobs like temping and catering helped him pay rent, but after a few years, he managed to scrape by on commercial and TV gigs in addition to getting work in regional theaters.

“He has great dramaturgical instincts.,” says playwright Sung Rno who worked with Lee on several occasions. “He’s really concerned about the overall story, rather than just how it’s affecting him.”

At the same time, Rno says Lee is “someone you’d want to hang out with in a bar.”

While Lee enjoyed his time in New York, the romance of the struggling actor’s life began to wear thin a couple years ago when he started thinking about a stable future and a family.

That’s when he landed “Dexter.”

Based on the novels by Jeff Lindsay, the critically acclaimed one-hour drama follows the life of a serial killer who works for the Miami Police Department. Lee snagged the role of Vincent Masuka, a forensic expert who gets giddy at the sight of a corpse and loves deadpanning sexual innuendo.

“I’m used to playing oddball characters ‘cause I’m sort of goofy-looking, and I guess I attract those roles,” Lee says. “I don’t mind it. For me, it was a blast to play a character who was excited to see a dead body.”

At first only given a few lines, Vincent was made a series regular and appears more often in the second season, which began Sept. 30.

That’s become a pattern with Lee whose role on “Chuck” — a sitcom about a store computer geek turned secret agent — is said to be expanding as well. Apparently, his take on annoying co-worker Harry Tang who’s all about bureaucracy is hitting home runs with producers.

Lee may be attracting attention now that he’s on the small screen, but his former professor Hal Ryder says Lee was someone to notice long ago.

“When people are good actors, but not on TV, the media doesn’t care. It’s slightly amusing because he’s been working in really major professional theater for a very long time,” says Ryder who remembers Lee as a serious student with a sense of humor.

“He floored us all with his professionalism, and he always had a great instrument as an actor. … I’m glad for his fame and whatever fortune comes with that, but really the thing that makes me the proudest is what a solid human being he is. His generosity with his classmates, his sharp eye and understanding of what others were going through, and his consideration for everyone he worked with.”

The professor’s words ring true today as Lee thoughtfully processes a journalist’s question, then makes sure to ham it up for the photographer by placing a golf ball in inappropriate places — all of it done with a sense of ease and no shortage of laughter.

After a smoke break with a pack of American Spirit, he’s back to the tee. He admits to being fanatical about golf, having already played a round at 6 a.m. today in Griffith Park.

Settling into his stance again, Lee says, “Golf is a lot like acting. You’ve got to stay focused, be in the moment, and you have to be disciplined.”

Then he cracks a shot that sends the ball soaring straight toward the 250-yard marker. “There’s one!” he says. “That’s what makes you come back — when you hit those.”

Lee’s clearly learned what works for him: Just keep swinging.

Booking Bars Thrive in Korea http://t.co/bHOtsHVE

May Issue: Last But Not Least ... Crying Nut http://t.co/bv4ggNEl

Wednesday’s Links: Michelle Rhee backs lawsuit against teacher's union, Yul Kwon wants more Asians on TV, Dumbfoundead http://t.co/7nVqg7yb

Shin-Soo Choo homered, doubled and walked from the leadoff spot Tuesday versus the Twins. http://t.co/npn0lKFR

Tuesday's Links: Korean Zombie Fight Night, Ahn Sung-ki in new film 'Unbowed,' Monks Accused of Going to Room Salon http://t.co/I8lNm57e