I first met my teacher, Sun Hee Kim—we call her Sonia—around age 11 or 12, when I entered the National Institute for the Gifted in Arts in Seoul. NIGA is a government-funded school, affiliated with the Korea National University of the Arts [also known as K-Arts]. She was my first teacher there, and I was very nervous, because it was very strict, Vaganova-based training.
Every step, every position, had to be so specific. I remember her teaching barre: If the arm goes here, the head goes there, and you have to look up 45 degrees. She coached all of those little details. And the next class, if we didn’t remember our corrections? She would not be happy! So we were very focused—we had to be.
She also had Russian teachers train us throughout the week, like Vladimir Kim and Margarita Kulig. They gave us so much information, so many details. But I never thought it was too much. I needed to learn these things, and I was excited to be there, so I tried to remember everything they’d say.
I feel lucky Sonia gave me this training, because I developed a really good base. Sometimes I don’t even have to think about certain aspects of my technique now, because it’s all there, in my body. That allows me to develop my artistry, add my own color to the movements, and learn new styles by different choreographers. I see a lot of talented young dancers who maybe haven’t received the same level of training when they join a company. Your career doesn’t need to be perfect at 18, but when your baseline is already high, it gives you more space to build and learn different things.
Sonia encouraged me to not just be a good dancer but to be a good leader. In middle school she would talk about how to connect with and treat other people and how important it is to be polite and professional. When you’re working in a company, it’s not only about how you dance, it’s also about how you work with ballet masters, how you talk with your director, how you treat your fellow dancers. Respecting others and gaining their respect is a whole other aspect of your training.
When I was between the ages of 15 and 17, I went to Europe to train at Tanz Academie Zurich.
Sonia knew someone there and suggested I go, so I said “Okay, sure!” It was a bit of a surprise, but I trusted her judgment. And I’m so glad I listened to her, because I learned so much. My teacher there, Oliver Matz, taught me the French style and the Tarasov method [a training method for male dancers developed by Nikolai Tarasov]. He helped open my mind, that there wasn’t just “one way.” Also, I learned English, learned cultural differences—how people kiss cheeks when they say hello. I came back to Korea to join the university, but I was dreaming to go to Europe again.
At K-Arts, I would still have Sonia for rehearsals. Sometimes we would have meetings, where she’d say, “I think you need to focus more.” I was 18, a college kid—I’d go out sometimes. She wasn’t too strict about that, but when she thought I was getting a bit arrogant, she’d say so, with no filter. We were training for ballet competitions; in South Korea, men are required to do military service, but if you can win an international competition, you can be exempt. She was always pushing me for more, breaking down details to see how my variations could be better, and would come with me to the competitions. In 2009, I won the gold medal at Youth America Grand Prix, which meant I didn’t have to join the military. That made it easy for me to go abroad to audition for companies, and to join Dutch National Ballet.
Sometimes I teach, both in Amsterdam and when I come home to South Korea in the summer or when I’m visiting. Sonia’s corrections—those details—they’ve stayed with me, so I try to pass on that strong base, in addition to my own things.
I believe we meet certain people at certain times, and I feel very lucky that every time that my life has changed, there have been people to guide me. Sonia was there at the beginning. Because of her, I could become who I am now.
