Kim Chŏnghŭi

Lore & Background

Kim Chŏnghŭi was a scholar of the Joseon Dynasty. According to the estimate of the famous calligrapher Oh Je-bong, he had as many as 503 *ho*. This makes him an extreme practitioner of the tradition of adopting art names, which were used to mark significant changes in life. Other extreme examples include Tang Yin of the Ming dynasty, who had more than ten *hao*, and Hokusai of Japan, who used no fewer than six pseudonyms in the period 1798 to 1806 alone. The practice of using art names, known as *ho* in Korean, arrived on the peninsula from China during the Three Kingdoms of Korea period (57 BC – 668 AD).

Reader's Guide

Kim Chŏnghŭi was a central figure in the later Joseon period, renowned as an epigraphist, calligrapher, and scholar of the Silhak (Practical Learning) school, also known as Bukhak (Northern Learning). His most celebrated achievement was the creation of the "Chusa-che" calligraphic style, which he developed during his exile on Jeju Island from 1840 to 1849. This style was inspired by his intensive study of ancient Korean and Chinese epitaphs, transforming Korean epigraphy. As a practitioner of ink painting, his depictions of orchids are particularly admired. He was also a pupil of the noted Bukhak scholar Pak Je-ga, receiving instruction from age fifteen. His scholarly network extended to Qing China, where during a six-month embassy in 1810 he met and corresponded with prominent Chinese scholars Weng Fanggang and Ruan Yuan, the latter giving him a book on calligraphy. Kim’s personal life was marked by tragedy, including the early deaths of his first wife, birth mother, and teacher in 1805, which deepened his interest in Buddhism. He maintained a close lifelong friendship with the Buddhist monk Cho-ui, who visited him multiple times in exile, bringing tea. His family connections were significant: he was related to Queen Jeongsun, and his adoptive mother made him a cousin to Namyeon-gun Yi Gu, grandfather of King Gojong. Heungseon Daewongun, King Gojong’s father and a noted calligrapher, was briefly his pupil.

Did You Know?

• Kim Chŏnghŭi of the Joseon Dynasty had up to 503 art names, according to the estimate of calligrapher Oh Je-bong.
• This number far exceeds that of other extreme practitioners: Tang Yin of the Ming dynasty had more than ten, and Hokusai used no fewer than six between 1798 and 1806.
• The poet Kim Sang-ok had over twenty *ho*, which the Encyclopedia of Korean Culture identifies as the most of any modern Korean poet.
• Art names in Korea are called *ho*, and the practice arrived from China during the Three Kingdoms of Korea period (57 BC – 668 AD).
• A person's *ho* could be self-selected or given by others, and could be changed to reflect shifts in mood or situation.

A Proliferation Without Parallel

Kim Chŏnghŭi, a scholar of the Joseon Dynasty, stands as perhaps the most extreme example in the entire Sinosphere of an individual who accumulated art names. By the estimate of the renowned calligrapher Oh Je-bong, this single man possessed as many as 503 distinct *ho*. This figure dwarfs other celebrated practitioners of the tradition: Tang Yin of China's Ming dynasty is noted for having more than ten such names, while the Japanese master Hokusai used no fewer than six pseudonyms in the brief span between 1798 and 1806 alone. The custom of adopting new art names at various stages of a career typically served to mark significant personal transformations, and Kim Chŏnghŭi's extraordinary count suggests a life of relentless reinvention or, at minimum, an obsessive engagement with the literary and social rituals surrounding self-naming.

The Sinosphere Context

The practice of adopting art names—known as *hao* in Chinese, *gō* in Japanese, *ho* in Korean, and *tên hiệu* in Vietnamese—originated in China among the educated class and spread throughout East Asia. In the Sinosphere, these names served as professional identifiers for artists, poets, and writers. Kim Chŏnghŭi's practice of accumulating hundreds of such names must be understood against this broader cultural backdrop. The tradition held that a person could coin their own name or receive one from another, and that changing names was a natural way to signal transitions in life. In China, the custom became widespread during the Tang dynasty. By the time the tradition reached Korea during the Three Kingdoms period, it had already been refined over centuries. Kim Chŏnghŭi's 503 names represent the ultimate expression of a practice that, in most other cases, yielded perhaps a handful of aliases over a lifetime.

Korean Mechanisms of Naming

Within Korean culture, the *ho* system operated with its own distinct logic and social grammar. A person might select their own *ho* based on personal meaning, or it could be bestowed by a friend, teacher, parent, or fellow scholar, reflecting the shared context of their relationship. Names could also be chosen to sidestep naming taboos. While most *ho* consisted of two characters, there was no fixed limit on length, and a person could hold any number of them. The explanation accompanying a *ho* was formally called a *hobyeon* or *hogi*, and dedicated catalogues known as *hobo* existed to record and categorize these names across the literati. *Ho* could be further subdivided into *aho*, the typical artistic pseudonym, and *dangho*, which named the intellectual's dwelling. Kim Chŏnghŭi's collection of up to 503 names would have generated an extraordinary body of such explanatory texts and catalogue entries.

An Extreme in a Tradition of Moderation

In the broader landscape of East Asian literary culture, the accumulation of art names was a recognized but generally moderate practice. Most literati held a small number of *ho* that evolved over a career, marking key life changes. The Korean tradition, which inherited the concept from China during the Three Kingdoms era, maintained this norm: a poet like Kim Sang-ok, for instance, held over twenty names, which the Encyclopedia of Korean Culture identified as the most of any modern Korean poet. Against this baseline, Kim Chŏnghŭi's estimated 503 *ho* represent not merely a large collection but a qualitative departure from the norm. The fact that his number is attributed to the estimate of a famous calligrapher rather than a definitive count suggests that even contemporaries found the tally difficult to verify. His case is cited alongside Tang Yin and Hokusai as an extreme practitioner, a designation that implies his output was an outlier even among those already known for prolific self-naming across the Sinosphere.