In the Spring of 2020, as I was going through books and medals in my grandfather’s old study, I discovered a vintage film camera. A momentous discovery that led me to become the storyteller of my world.
I took photos of fervent protests in Seoul and was moved by the images of powerful visages. With each immersion of contact paper, I witnessed the birth of art, a record of life emerging from the depths of the blank canvas.
My passion became a pilgrimage, a journey that led me to unravel the records of history through my lens. At Jeju Island, Korea, I recorded tragic stories while uncovering the buried narratives of the April 3rd Massacre. Through the lens, I was not merely a chronicler, but an interpreter, reading narratives through the nuanced interplay of colors, contrasts, and compositions.
Photography is the ultimate keeper of records, an unbroken chain of moments, emotions, and stories that wove past, present, and future into a seamless, harmonious continuum. Through the lens of his venerable camera, I learned the timeless art of preserving memories, uniting with the ever-evolving stories.
