On March 1, not quite five months after J-Hope had completed his mandatory military duty in the South Korean Army, the BTS rapper performed for another kind of ARMY — his fans. It was there that his recent military life converged with his omnipresent pop star status. At the second of three concerts in Seoul, the singer-songwriter-producer pointed at a familiar face in the crowd. But it wasn’t one of his bandmates. Jin, who completed his service last June, would attend the following evening, and RM, SUGA, Jimin, V, and Jung Kook are still with their respective units and won’t be discharged until this summer.
“My military junior is here!” a clearly delighted J-Hope explained to his fans, while also addressing his friend. “What are you doing here? Wow! I was so surprised that I couldn’t concentrate in the middle of the performance. You’re the best!”
There is a Korean phrase that addresses this kind of bond that South Korean men form when they serve in the military together — “동반 입대,” which translates to “enlisting together.” This doesn’t necessarily mean they entered the military as buddies. Rather, they formed a unique kinship based on spending almost all their waking hours serving their country together for roughly 18 months. That J-Hope was able to spot the young man at a sold-out concert is indicative of the idol’s charm. He sees and celebrates his fans, both literally and metaphorically.
Long before J-Hope, 31, became the first South Korean musician to headline a major U.S. music festival (Lollapalooza 2022 in Chicago), and the first Korean solo artist set to headline a U.S. stadium (two upcoming concerts this April at Los Angeles’s BMO Stadium), he was Jeong Hoseok, a scrappy Gwangju native who joined the underground dance team Neuron when he was 13.
Gwangju is famous for a pair of 20th-century uprisings that played an important role in Korea’s democracy. In 1929, the Gwangju Student Movement fought against imperial Japan’s colonization of Korea. And in 1980, after university students demonstrating against martial law were beaten and killed by soldiers ordered by Chun Doo-hwan’s dictatorship, Gwangju’s citizens fought back against the South Korean government in what became known as the Gwangju Uprising. The official report noted that 170 civilians were casualties of what Chun’s regime referred to as the Gwangju Riot. But experts estimate that the figure was closer to 1,000 deaths.
J-Hope referenced these historic events in his hometown in the 2015 BTS song “Ma City,” which he co-wrote. His rap (“Press 062-518 everyone”) may seem innocuous to the casual listener. But 062 is Gwangju’s area code, and the beginning of the Gwangju Uprising was on May 18. The lyrics are his way of reminding listeners that the present is informed by the past.
Today, J-Hope is wealthy beyond anything he could’ve imagined as a child. But he also hails from a country that was split into two during the Korean War. That kind of generational trauma can have a trickle-down effect as stories of deprivation, separation, and starvation are passed down from grandparents, to parents, to children, to grandchildren. He is a generous philanthropist, who this year donated 100 million Korean won (roughly $68,000) to benefit the victims and families of the Jeju Air crash and another $200 million won to a children’s hospital in Seoul.
On March 6, J-Hope hosted a 12-hour comeback livestream on Weverse that had more than 26.9 million views, breaking that platform’s record. Besides talking to ARMY about “Sweet Dreams,” he took a shower (off camera), danced, and tucked into a late-night meal.Korean culture dictates that food doesn’t provide just sustenance, but is a communal activity. So it’s not surprising that idols like J-Hope often eat during their real-time video streams. It’s a way of sharing a meal together, but separately, with their fans.
On his soulful new single “Sweet Dreams,” released earlier today — which features Miguel and his trademark falsetto — J-Hope sounds smooth, rapping in fluid English and making the kind of promises meant to make listeners both wistful and weak at the knees: “We might never get to sleep tonight/I’ll give you everything you need tonight/This kind of love/I guarantee for life/Dreams are gonna be sweet tonight.” As he said at his Seoul concert when he debuted this song, this is his first song that’s centered on romantic love.
Ahead of the North American leg of his Hope on the Stage Tour, which kicks off at Brooklyn’s Barclays Center on March 13, J-Hope did an exclusive interview with Rolling Stone via email, where he talked about music, his time in the military, and facing the challenges of doing it alone.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
In 2022, when you released Jack in the Box, you told Rolling Stone that you felt some pressure and responsibility as the first BTS member to go solo. Three years later, do you still feel that pressure? I go through different emotions based on the situation at hand. I’d say I still feel pressure, but it’s significantly been lowered. Back then, being the first one to release a solo project among the members came with a bit of pressure. On the other hand, I still feel the same level of responsibility. I am deeply aware that there are many people who look out for and support me in everything I do. With that in mind, I always carry that sense of responsibility. I consider it my mission and duty to uphold.
During the time that you were in the military, how were you keeping yourself creative as an artist, or was there even time for that? I think the period of rest that naturally came with the situation actually became an opportunity for more exploration. I found a lot of new inspiration and got to spend much time thinking about the future. I also started making plans for what I want to do once I complete my military service.
In your 2023 docu-film j-hope IN THE BOX, you said, “I devoted all of my twenties to Bangtan, but nothing lasts forever. I need to experience something new to be able to really understand what I have now.” A couple months after the film’s premiere, you enlisted in the South Korean military. While that was a mandatory experience, was it one that gave you a better understanding of who you are today? I still believe that experiences are invaluable. The thoughts I had during those times have become an inseparable part of me, nurturing and shaping who I am today. Ultimately, they have influenced the stories I tell, the music I aspire to create, my choreography, and the overall aspects of my work, deepening my understanding of my own thoughts.
Let’s talk a little bit about “Sweet Dreams.” I understand it’s about being loved and wanting to love. You’re arguably one of the most beloved musicians on the planet. Does this song address any doubts or insecurities you may have? I think doubt has turned into conviction, and I’ve come to understand the warmth that comes with stability over anxiety. As I touch on the feeling of love, I wanted to explore a different side of myself, and I think that will become a new source of inspiration.
You’ve only been out of the military since mid-October, so that’s not a lot of time to work on new material. Can you walk us through the process for recording “Sweet Dreams” with Miguel? The first song I started on was “Sweet Dreams.” In the beginning, the top line was written primarily for the vocals, so I went to L.A. to meet with the songwriter and rearrange it to fit my style. During that process, I was looking for a featured artist, and I thought it would be incredible to collaborate with Miguel, who I’ve respected greatly since I was young. We got in touch, and despite the challenges of it being around the holiday season, he was so kind and eager to collaborate. I remember sending him a personal text to thank him.
What can you share about how the music video for “Sweet Dreams” reinforces the concept of the song’s lyrics? Just as the song talks about the sweet feeling of love, I wanted to express that excitement in the music video with the imagery of a house floating in the sky. It was important for me to infuse wit and uniqueness into the concept. In the video, you can see the house expanding as the feeling of love grows. I also wanted to create a mysteriously alluring ambience. With the floating house following me as I walk, love becomes part of my reality and influences the world around me. Since love is a theme that everyone can relate to, I wanted to convey the depth of these emotions in a visceral, heartfelt way through the music video.
I realize that the majority of the members of BTS are still in the military, and you and Jin are the only ones who have completed your duties. But were you able to share “Sweet Dreams” with your bandmates via phone or, in the case of Jin, in person, to get their feedback? I played the song for all of the members. I made sure to share it with them when each of them was on their military leave, and I felt proud to be able to play it for them first. I was very happy that everyone liked it.
SUGA had a very successful solo tour in 2023. Did you talk to each other about what you’d like to accomplish on your tour? I sought advice from him on the overall structure of the tour. As for the performances, we each bring a unique set of strengths to the stage, so I focused on shaping the production to reflect what I wanted to explore in various ways. A live band will be part of it, of course.
You recently shot an episode of the reality variety show I Live Alone, which showcases the daily lives of single celebrities. Which leads us to the question: How do you like living alone? You went from living with your parents as a child to moving into a dorm with the other members of BTS. And now, you live alone. Being able to focus on myself has allowed me to become more mature and composed. Taking action on my own and facing challenges head-on have all been essential in growing as an adult. I believe that these experiences are playing a key role in laying the foundation for my life.
You’ve already accomplished so many firsts, both with BTS and as a solo artist. What is the next first you have on your bucket list? Of course, completing my ongoing solo tour while maintaining good health is on the top of my bucket list.
In January, you performed at the Paris charity event Le Gala des Pièces Jaunes, which was attended by France’s first lady, Brigitte Macron. Did you see the footage of the conductor really getting into your set? During “MORE,” especially, he was really in his element. Performing with the orchestra has become an experience I truly value. I was moved by the conductor’s level of focus, and I never imagined the power that “MORE” would hold when joined by the orchestra. It was incredibly powerful and made my heart race. I was so grateful to be invited to such a meaningful event and have the opportunity to perform for the first time there after my military discharge. The energy I got from that performance carried through to my Seoul concerts and helped me wrap them up very successfully.
You will be kicking off the North American leg of your Hope on the Stage Tour shortly. Who will be taking the stage? J-Hope? Hobi? Jay? Jeong Hoseok? Perhaps all of these personas? I think the question itself is the answer. I believe Hope on the Stage is the tour that will show every facet of who I am. It’s a window into the full scope of J-Hope.
Watch: Is Andaz Apna Apna still relevant? | FOMO Fix
Film critics and buddies Raja Sen and Sudhish Kamath take a nostalgic deep-dive into Andaz Apna Apna, the cult comedy classic re-releasing in cinemas this week.
From crime master Gogo’s chaos to Salman’s scene-stealing comic timing, they debate whether the film still works today — or if it’s just a rose-tinted time capsule. Slapstick, spoof, or satirical gem? The verdict’s in.
Also on this episode:
TV Gold — The Last of Us Season 2 brings grief, gore, and gut punches. Is this still escape, or just emotional masochism?
Heads Up — Logout on Zee5 proves a one-actor thriller can still scroll deep.
KHAUF — Real horror hits home in Smita Singh’s harrowing hostel haunting.
Rewatch Alert — Andaz Apna Apna is back on the big screen. Go for the nostalgia, stay for the oranges gag.
Hit play, subscribe for more recs, and remember:
Sometimes the only escape is watching someone else lose it.
Almond-shaped eyes, aquiline features, elongated faces with defined chins and noses, earthy tones, panoramic landscapes and stylised clouds — these are some of the things that set apart Kishangarh paintings from the other miniature traditions of India.
Drenched in bhakti and sringara rasas, these miniatures originated somewhere around the 17th Century in Kishangarh in Ajmer, Rajasthan. Rulers such as Raj Singh and Sawant Singh set up court ateliers led by Bhavanidas and Nihal Chand and patronised this art form. However, diminished patronage over the years has seen miniatures and traditional visual art forms relegated to the realm of handicraft.
From Vaishnavi Kumari’s Kishangarh Studio
| Photo Credit:
Courtesy: Kishangarh Studio
Centuries later, Vaishnavi Kumari, who traces her lineage to the erstwhile royal family of Kishangarh, has taken upon herself the task of reinventing the art form to suit the contemporary milieu. In 2010, she set up Studio Kishangarh, where she works with artists to create paintings that merged traditional aesthetics and modern sensibilities.
“We do acrylic on canvas, work on wasli (handmade) paper and take up landscape themes. We might take inspiration from a Pichwai painting and interpret it in our own way, using gold and silver embellishment. We recently had a show ‘Ishq Chaman’ based on the poetry of Raja Sawant Singh. The poem talks about devotion and we created allegorical paintings on love and devotion for god,” says Vaishnavi Kumari, the curator and founder of Studio Kishangarh.
Vaishnavi graduated from NIFT and pursued her Master’s in art history from SOAS University, London. “Middlemen buy unique haathi-ghoda paintings at very low prices from artists. These are sold as souvenirs. That set me thinking. In museums and auctions, you see work that is highly valued, and I wondered why we were not producing that kind of quality. Traditionally, a patron influenced the kind of work done in karkhanas (workshops). For example, you see hunting scenes in Kota paintings, because the ruler wanted those depictions. Nainsukh (1710-1778) painted most of his works for the local ruler Raja Balwant Singh of Jasrota in Himachal Pradesh. That encouraged me to set up an atelier and offer contemporary patronage,” says Vaishnavi.
A Kishangarh miniature
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Courtesy: Kishangarh Studio
A couple’s rendezvous in a lush green garden against the picturesque backdrop of mountains, dense flora and fauna and a distinct blue sky is an aesthetic marvel, and a typical Kishangarh miniature. This style is also synonymous with Bani Thani — known as the Indian Mona Lisa, a combination of grace and beauty, supposedly painted by Nihal Chand, as instructed by then ruler Raja Sawant Singh. It is said that the Raja and Bani Thani were lovers, and they are the nayak and nayika in several paintings.
Among the most famous of Kishangarh paintings, ‘Boat of Love’, is on display at the National Museum, Delhi. Inspired by Raja Sawant Singh’s poem, the painting depicts three scenes featuring Radha and Krishna — atop a hill, crossing the river seated on a boat accompanied by attendants, and amid dense foliage.
Through her work in the atelier with her artists, Vaishnavi wants to educate people about the art tradition. “What you see is just the first layer which is the aesthetic — the women are beautiful, the figures so lyrical… but there is a deeper meaning. Bani Thani wasn’t just a beautiful woman. She was an accomplished poet and an amazing musician. Sufism and Haveli Sangeet were major influences at the time and we want the viewers to discover all these facets to these paintings. Raja Sawant Singh was a Bhakti poet and wrote in Rekhta, a precursor to the Hindustani dialect, among other languages, under the pen name of Nagari Das. A pushtimargi, belonging to the Vallabhacharya sect, he wrote devotional poetry for Krishna and Bani Thani,” she adds.
Kishangarh miniature
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Special Arrangement
Once Vaishnavi returned from London, she discovered many families that had been painting for generations. She brought together a few of them for two reasons — better livelihood opportunities and the chance to develop a unique aesthetic.
“We have a core group but we also work with other artists. When we started, we were doing handicrafts — we painted apparel. I explore a lot of media. Even though I give ideas, the exploration is by the artists. Also, each painting is the collective work of two or three artists — one does the basic drawing, the other adds the flora and fauna elements, the third might add an iconic element like the Kamadhenu. They enjoy working on a new visual vocabulary,” says Vaishnavi, who is trying to strike a balance between the old and the new.
Vaishnavi Kumari, who traces her lineage to the erstwhile royal family of Kishangarh, has taken upon herself the task of reinventing the art form to suit the contemporary milieu
Vamshi in ‘Firefly’.
| Photo Credit: Anand Audio/YouTube
How long does it take for us to overcome grief? The most sensible answer, perhaps, is that grief isn’t the same for everyone. For Vicky (Vamshi), in Firefly, the tragedy of losing his loved ones puts him through phases of denial, anger, depression, and acceptance.
Vicky returns to Mysuru from abroad for his cousin’s wedding, only to land up in a coma after a devastating incident that leaves him without a family. Post-recovery, he is hit by insomnia, which forces him to adopt many methods, ranging from sensible to outrageous, to find a solution.
From binge eating to self-infliction of pain to trying to find reasons to smile, Vicky’s life becomes a series of coping mechanisms. Vamshi, who has also directed the film, opts for an unconventional manner to present his protagonist’s world. As a line from the trailer says, “When reality feels unbearable, the quest for peace becomes surreal.”
Storyline: A melancholic, surreal journey of Vicky as he deals with life’s challenges and seeks the purpose of his life through bizarre adventures
The obvious Wes Anderson-esque mood of Firefly is one of its biggest strengths. Serious and emotional scenes have comforting and warm colours, the contrasting palettes you see in Anderson’s movies. Like in Anderson’s films, characters in Firefly are framed symmetrically in several scenes, creating a visual balance. The quirky set design is another hat tip to the The Grand Budapest Hotel filmmaker.
Firefly is a character study of Vicky, and the 4:3 aspect ratio of the movie attempts to provide an intimate view of the protagonist’s journey. The film tries to create a vibe in every scene and tells its audience to overlook the logic of those moments. Cinematographer Abhilash Kalathi does well in making each frame appear interesting, a rare attempt in Kannada cinema in recent times. However, as with first-time filmmakers, Firefly is undone by the director’s indulgence.
Firefly is luminous with creative shots, but this template had to be matched with memorable characters. In Rajkumar Hirani’s Munna Bhai MBBS, characters such as a terminally-ill patient (essayed by Jimmy Shergill) and a person in a paralysed state (called Anand bhai) tames Munna (Sanjay Dutt), a gangster who then begins to look at life with compassion.
Vamshi in ‘Firefly’.
| Photo Credit:
Anand Audio/YouTube
In Firefly, when Vicky joins a self-help group, I expected the arrival of similarly moving characters who could change his outlook to life. Instead, the film opts for a low-hanging fruit. Vicky takes his first step towards change when he comes across the perseverance of small-town people handling economic hardships, an overworked trope in commercial films. The ultra-serious nature of this portion doesn’t fit well with the self-deprecating tone of the movie.
Firefly could have benefited from good humour and engaging conversations. The film has tepid drama thanks to Vicky’s flat conversations with his parents (Achyuth Kumar and Sudharani) and the girl he falls in love with at first sight (Rachana Inder). Even as Firefly breaks conventional visual grammar, supported by Charan Raj’s appealing music, I wished the film focused on small and beautiful moments, like the one where Vicky gets a photo frame of his parents and the scene in which the girl he loves asks him to live in the moment.
Vicky reminds you of Sid, who wakes up to love and life in Ayaan Mukerji’s 2009 Hindi film. Both struggle hard to become a man of purpose. In fact, Firefly is yet another coming-of-age tale at its core. The attempt to tell this tale of self-discovery in an unorthodox manner is commendable. Consistent writing could have added depth to the film’s highly relatable core.
