Cartoonist Anny Min shows her drawings at a cafe in Seoul, Monday. Korea Times photo by Park Jin-hai

At 82, Anny Min, whose real name is Min Shin-sik, continues to captivate readers with her elegant pen strokes and exquisitely delicate pencil drawings, proving creativity knows no age limit. A pioneering figure in the Korean cartoon scene since the 1960s, Min remains as enthusiastic as ever, now connecting with a new generation as a YouTube content creator.

Over six decades, her hand has given life to hundreds of romance cartoons.

"Back then, there was no TV, no smartphone, no computer at every household and even fairy tale books were rare. Cartoons were the only dream for children," she said of her childhood in an interview with The Korea Times at a cafe in Seoul, Monday.

Before entering elementary school, her father gifted her a Japanese edition of "The Little Mermaid." The illustration of the mermaid — cradling the fallen prince, rising from the water and her hair flowing with the waves — was so breathtakingly portrayed that it sparked in Min a dream to create such art.

Challenging social prejudices

Anny Min in 1962 / Courtesy of the artist

Driven by a pure love for cartoons, she embarked on her artistic journey, a path she readily admits was far from easy.

"In those days, cartoons were widely regarded as a social ill, an impediment to academic pursuits. I was often scolded for indulging in cartoons instead of studying. Even in high school, when I was drawing portraits of Hollywood actors, even my art teacher would chide me, saying, 'Will drawing faces all day put food on the table?' Cartoonists were considered a lesser form of artist compared to children's book illustrators," she said.

Despite these prevailing attitudes, Min began creating cartoons with paper and ink, using a wooden apple crate as her workspace. Following her father's wishes — who named her "Shin-sik" (new style) to embrace the new — she embodied this spirit by forging her own path as a comic artist. Unlike many aspiring artists who sought apprenticeships under established masters, she taught herself and boldly took her three-volume series, "The Girl Who Sells Dreams," directly to the Korea Children's Comics Self-Regulation Council, Korea's censorship office at the time.

"The publisher I met there took one look at my drawings and remarked on their unique style," she explained. "Because I pursued my imagination independently, my artwork stood apart. Publishers, when reviewing submissions from new artists, could usually identify their mentor based on the stylistic similarities. My work, being born of my own vision, was refreshingly distinct."

Her debut work, "The Girl Who Sells Dreams," reflected the realities of the times and resonated deeply with many.

"It told the story of a child left behind by her mother, who departed to earn a living. Years passed and the child waited in vain. One day, she saw a movie poster featuring an actress who bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother. She then journeyed from her rural home to the actress's abode in search of her. Upon its release, it became an instant sensation," she said.

"White Sailboat" (1973) by Anny Min / Captured from Tumblbug

Navigating censorship

She has witnessed the ebb and flow of the Korean comic book industry firsthand. A founding member of the Joint Publishing Company, established by a collective of approximately 100 comic artists, she was one of only three women, alongside Song Soon-hee and Um Hee-ja, and remains the sole active member today. Their romance cartoons enjoyed immense popularity among young female readers in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

"Everyone, even little children, has their own worries. When someone is hurting, a friend can empathize with their sadness and when there's joy and excitement, they can share in that excitement. That's what I think love is. My romance cartoons have always instilled that warm sense of love, which is what truly makes them romance cartoons," she said.

However, the Korea Children's Comics Self-Regulation Council, a pre-publication censorship authorities formed in the 1960s under the Park Chung-hee's military regime, wielded its power under the guise of "deliberation" and arbitrarily and crudely mutilated cartoons based on subjective criteria.

"Reasons employed were as absurd as 'Skirts above the knee are unacceptable. They are decadent,' 'Stylish bangs are forbidden. They promote decadence and extravagance,' 'No rings or earrings. They encourage a culture of luxury,' or even 'Two people of the opposite sex in one frame are prohibited. They foster an immoral atmosphere,'" she recounted.

Anny Min's male character drawing (2024) / Courtesy of the artist

Witnessing their painstakingly crafted manuscripts mutilated, artists were no longer able to create freely. They confined themselves to plots and drawings that conformed to the committee's dictates. The safe havens were tales of virtuous girls overcoming hardship or adaptations of foreign works, according to Min.

Amid these restrictive times, her 1973 work "White Sailboat," a tale of destiny-bound love between two young women, was born. It depicts the love between Sook-ah, a girl who comes to work as a maid in a wealthy household, and falls into an irresistible love with Ran-yi, the lady of the house, after drinking a mysterious potion.

Faced with strict censorship that forbade depictions of heterosexual love, the cartoonist decided to sidestep the restrictions by portraying romance between women instead. To her surprise, it passed the censors without a hitch.

"They wouldn't allow a male character to even appear as a background character behind a woman. But two women embracing and utterly besotted with each other were perfectly fine," she said, laughing. "What did they know of queer relationships back then? I took advantage of their ignorance and gave them a little taste of their own medicine."

After its rediscovery as the Korea's first girls' love (GL) comics from the 1970s, "White Sailboat" experienced a renaissance through a successful Tumblbug crowdfunding campaign in 2023, introducing her pioneering work to contemporary readers.

Anny Min's drawing of K-pop boy group BTS member Jimin (2023) / Courtesy of the artist

Innovation continues

Starting from the late 1970s, a flood of Japanese cartoons, depicting everything from abnormal psychology to intricate romantic entanglements, poured into Korea through clandestine channels. Meanwhile, the Korean cartoon industry, stifled by censorship, stagnated. The 1980s saw Korean romance cartoons heavily influenced by Japanese manga styles, with a generational shift led by artists like Shin Il-sook and Kim Jin.

Amid these shifts, Min played a pivotal role in nurturing the second generation of Korean comics artists while continuing her own prolific work, spanning educational and biblical cartoons.

Min says her happiest moments are still those spent drawing. After retiring from a long career as a professional cartoonist, she continued pursuing art as a personal hobby. Noticing her enduring passion, her daughter — a fine arts graduate — decided to share Min's joy with the world by launching the "Senior Cartoonist Anny Min's Drawing Channel" on YouTube. Recently, some of Min's iconic characters have found new popularity as KakaoTalk emoticons.

"I'm so thrilled to reconnect with my old readers through YouTube. A grape farm owner even sent me grapes, saying he used to love my drawings when he was in elementary school. Another fan told me that she majored in art because of me," she said.

"I'm also delighted by the requests from young people to draw their 'favorite' characters. Drawing BTS, NewJeans and (virtual group) Isegye Idol has brought me so much joy as well."

KakaoTalk emoticon set featuring Anny Min's drawings / Captured from the artist's Instagram