
Soon, an umbrella salesman entered, claiming the same selling spot. The two squabbled, boasting about their wares while undermining each other’s quality and price. Then came a hunter annoyed by their rivalry. Though this hunter at first was skeptical of the usefulness of such items on a bright sunny day, after some second thoughts tells that he is going to be crossing the mountain pass and could actually use both a pair of new shoes and an umbrella for his travels. The three soon realized they were all heading the same direction and so, they set out together.
At the mountain pass, the hunter left the group briefly, feigning an upset stomach, only to return pretending to be a tiger. After frightening the peddlers into begging for mercy, he revealed his joke just in time for the trio to notice a warning sign:
“Danger: Only cross in groups of ten or more.”
The hunter, full of bravado, insisted on going ahead anyway. The shoe peddler followed, and the umbrella seller reluctantly joined, too afraid to be left alone.
As night fell, the performance transitioned from clown-like acting to a mesmerizing mix of puppetry and dynamic visual storytelling. The stage darkened; rain began to fall; lanterns appeared (flashlights modified as old-time lanterns with stencils over the lens to work as shadow puppets). The performers projected these shadowy images—monstrous eyes and teeth—to reveal a looming giant.
The giant demanded that each traveler tell a story proving why they deserved to live. The best storyteller would be spared; the others, eaten.
Here, the production truly blossomed into visual poetry. The actors wove together miniature narratives of sick mothers, lost brothers, reconciliations, and cursed loves. Each tale unfolded through a variety of different techniques: delicate hand shadows enhanced with bits of paper, colorful drawings on clear plastic, and a contemporary spin on baltal (a Korean form where performers use their legs and feet as puppets).
One especially striking scene depicted a frantic chase. A puppeteer waved a red flag across the back of the stage while shadow puppets ran across its shifting surface- appearing and vanishing as the flag rippled. It was a moment of clever simplicity and beautiful tension.
Closing Thoughts
I won’t spoil the ending, but Tale of Tales left me impressed by how gracefully it bridged traditional and modern forms of puppetry. Asteroid B612’s work combined humor, craft, and emotional storytelling with inventive visual design, keeping the folk spirit alive while appealing to contemporary audiences.
Chuncheon proved once again that puppetry remains a living, evolving art form capable of surprising even those who think they already know its tricks and enhance the usual live theater experience.
Further Reading/References:
한국현대인형극본 선집 (The Anthology of Modern Korean Puppet Theatre Scripts)
World Encyclopedia of Puppetry Arts: Korea page
Chuncheon Puppet Festival website

Author
Phil Jasen, Assistant Professor at Alabama State University (ASU)
Hello, I am Phil Jasen—artist, educator, and puppeteer. I teach visual art at Alabama State University and was fortunate this past summer to travel to Chuncheon and Seoul. In Chuncheon, I participated in UNIMA’s (International Puppetry Association) World Congress and attended many performances connected to Chuncheon’s World Puppet Festival. I then traveled to Seoul, where I joined a workshop building a deolmi (traditional Korean wooden puppet) with master puppet builder and performer Eum Dae-jin, while also taking part in demonstrations of Korean puppet circus arts including dancing, drumming, and singing. Here I’ll be recapping Korean performances I saw at Chuncheon’s World Puppet Festival to share both the traditional and innovative work coming out of this part of the world. Feel free to reach out with questions or for extra details on my experience.