Twinkle Twinkle, We see the stars in Seoul
We see the stars in the Sky
We see stars through the trees
We see stars through one another
The poem above has inspired me. I wanted to create an image of stars falling from the sky. I thought a lot about how I would do this and how I would make the image of stars. I tried using candles but soon realized that it wasn’t as easy to recreate the brightness of these constellations. I needed a brighter light that was clear and easily seen, but my “stars” were blurry and small. Another problem was that candles were frail at the slightest wind.
I needed to find a light that could take the place of a star. I experimented with everything I could think of: flashlights, glow sticks, and the light on a cellphone. Through various tests, the flashlight worked the best. Soon I needed to find a location. I chose a location that looked beautiful on its own and would look even more beautiful with the bright light of the stars. I went to a dark forest for my first shoot. I chose the perfect spot, set up my equipment and waited until the sun set.
After it became dark enough, I pressed the shutter and as I ran from spot to spot, I repeatedly turned on and turned off the flashlights.
This woman is my friend and she's a Haenyo, a female diver from the Korean province of Jeju. This was shot early in the morning and she was going out to catch fish. This shot means a lot to me because it shows hard work. She's trying to save a tradition that has been practiced for a long time by the women of Jeju. She's going out early in the morning and catching fish. Most of the women are old but she's the only young one. Unlike most people that catch seafood today, she's doing things in an old-fashion way. I give her my respect because she's doing something she believes in. She's working hard to save a tradition that's fading away.
I documented these women that are very conservative. They catch seafood in a traditional way: diving into the water and hand catching it. They're respectable because they are trying to save a tradition that is going away slowly.
You can see the job is gruesome. The water's dark and the sun's not out. The orange ball is a signal light that signals each other their location. It's also a flotation device where the women can take breaks. Underneath it is a net where the women put their caught food in.
Collaboration work with artist, Eddie Daes.
Long time ago, Seoul used to be surround by a wall with 8 gates. These 8 gates were developed in order to protect the capitol. However, as time went on, Seoul progressively expanded. 2 of the gates were destroyed when Japan was in control of the country, since then they have been replaced with memorials, but the other rest still remain standing today.
I lived in Seoul, South Korea for the majority of my life. I have seen it go through a lot of change. The country has progressively modernized at a rapid pace. It does not really feel like the country that I learned about and grew up loving. However, the gates are one of the few things that still remain that showcase the culture of the past.
Being back home due to COVID-19 has helped me reconnect with home. I have revisited my past a lot and relearned the things I forgot. To me, this project is about remembering the few things that still make my home what it was. When I was living here, I took this experience for granted. I always dreamed about living in a more modern place and I always wanted to escape, but after being far from home, I wish I tried to make peace with those elements that defines what home is for me. Although I lost a lot of years to connect with my roots, this project has helped me reconnect my past and present. It helped me cherish the things I wish I did earlier. South Korea is losing what makes it South Korea, but these gates are one of the few things that still remain.
A series of photographs that depict a narrative where COVID-19 made everyone go into hiding.
This shows the best of 2 worlds: water and land. A scenery of the connecting worlds using a long exposure and standard landscape shots. I wanted to show the beauty of a consolidation. The meaning behind this is that unification is beautiful. Two sides that might be completely opposite can merge together into something beautiful and ecstatic. This was during a spring break trip during my junior year. This was the first time I shot long exposure photography. I was inspired by all the artsy long exposure photographs on Instagram. It was difficult to shoot this at night because my lens wouldn't focus.
When I took this I felt a sense of loneliness because it was empty and dark. However, the scenery was so beautiful. It really showed the best and worst in someone. It reminded sometimes the people that seem the most complete can actually be the least complete. It's just a matter of showing it or not.
This project was shot during the “Candlelight Protests” that took place from October 2015 to May 2017.
Thousands of protestors gathered on Saturday, October 29, 2016 at Gwanghwamun Square peacefully demanding the impeachment of President Park Geunhye. After a total of 23 protests, the Constitutional court removed Park from office. I initially attended the rally out of curiosity but with each passing week, as I watched the broadcasts of the protests, I was intrigued by the mass of people holding their candles and shouting their protests.
On the second Saturday of November, I made my way to Gwanghwamun Square. I had never seen such a large crowd before and being in the midst of approximately 100,000 people made me quite nervous. The square looked more like a festival than a protest. There was order, and placards expressed the protestors concerns. After sunset, music blasted from the speakers and people began marching through the streets with their candles, making the scene reminiscent of a concert hall. After that initial Saturday, I went every week to meet people and to record these historical events with my camera.
I have attended Seoul Foreign School since the first grade. So it’s been 11 years at the same school. Being part of the same community for such a long time, the bonds between my friends and I exceed mere friendship. These friends are my brothers.
My sophomore year, as the school’s newspaper photographer, I had many opportunities to capture my friends on camera. Not just prom and sports events, but I photographed them in our day-to-day lives. My friends not only made silly faces at the camera, but I also took photographs of their serious sides. These pictures helped me remember the experiences I had with my friends. By next June, I’ll be leaving my friends of 12 years. And I know that it is not an eternal farewell, but it already makes me feel depressed that I won’t be able to see them every day. This project is documentation of those that have spent the last 2/3s of my life with me.
This project was done in concurrence with my “Synergy For Change” project. One week, as I was walking with my camera in tow, I encountered a woman shouting in a loud voice. Thinking that I captured something great, I instantly pressed the shutter. As soon as I put my camera down, I came face to face with this woman.
She was holding a handwritten poster that seemed very meaningful, but I couldn’t fully understand everything written. I noticed a word though that I didn’t know and I looked it up when I came home. She wrote something that would translate to “A pen is mightier than a sword.” Only after looking up these words, I knew exactly what she wanted to say and I agreed with her completely.
After that I started shooting other photographers. I met newspaper photographers, international reporters, and students just like me. I’m curious to know what kind of images they captured and the stories those images tell.
Seoul is under construction. Everywhere you look, there are new buildings, apartments, and plazas being built. Amongst the three, an apartment building site is the most common and the most representative of Seoul’s development. There is no wonder that people say, “You wake up, and an apartment building has gone up.” So many apartment buildings and complexes have erected this last few years, and many more are on their way. Through this project, I wanted to capture the process of a disappearing town. Chestnut Village- A name given to this town because of the many chestnut trees that were planted. As darling as its name, the quaint and beautiful town was located on top of a hill. And the first time I visited the town, I was in awe and in shock that such a village could exist in Seoul.
The narrow staircases, the maze-like alleyways, and the vinyl roofs topped with tires and bricks made it seem like I took a time machine to long-lost generation. But it wasn’t long till I soon got lost in the magic of this town. There were beautiful wall paintings throughout the village, and small gardens tended to by the village people. The trees that surrounded the village and the flowers that bloomed here and there reminded me of a vast field. It was difficult to believe that this town would be demolished in next few months. As I was walking, an older gentleman approached, “You have a nice camera. Have you come to take pictures of the village?” He had lived here his whole life, and he too was shocked that he would be forced out of his home this way. Saddened by the fate of his eviction, he walks around the neighborhood at least a few times a day.
This day, he took me around the village and shared his memories of each road and corner. Before we parted ways, he asked me if I could do something for him. “Make sure you capture this place beautifully. I might never see this wonderful place again.” Soon after my visit the village disappeared. And now it’s become a construction site for new high-rise apartments. Restricted from entering the construction area, I was unable to take photographs of the changes. However, next spring when the apartments are completed, I hope to make my way back.
