Some behind-the-scenes images from a recent shoot that I hosted in my tiny apartment in Seoul. This past year has really taught me a lot about working in restricted spaces and with limited resources.
You can see basically the entirety of my apartment in the second image. There is a wall directly to the right and left and a small bathroom behind the person taking the image. For this shoot, I had to de-construct the majority of the furniture in my tiny one-room and leave it out in the hallway.
South Korean boy - 2013
I am in the process of saying goodbye to my students this week. For some of them it is an emotional affair, for others a simple wave and “goodbye”.
I was struck by how differently I feel moving on this time. I have felt much more connected to my students, but it’s easier to say goodbye. That doesn’t make sense to me.
This boy was very unhappy to see me go. He stopped me in the hallway and said, “Teacher, when I am adult - we drink soju together.”
I agreed that we should and we went our separate ways.
Looking - 2014. Seoul, Korea
I have been slowly working through a series of images dealing with my contemplation on life. While initially very broadly focused, the images seem to be getting more cohesive as time goes on.
This image is part of a triptych, a contemplation on manhood.
I’m currently working at a public Elementary School in Eastern Seoul, South Korea. I teach grades 4-6, so my kids range from 10-13 years old. I returned to Korea this past August which was in the middle of the school year, I stepped into these kids’ lives at an unexpected time. Nevertheless, we all got along right from the start, I being the polar opposite from their last English foreign teacher who was petite, did not have a beard, was a woman, was from the UK, and from what I heard, was not overly vested in the students.
As a foreign man, getting past the children’s barriers can be hard. There is the obvious language barrier that they and I struggle with, meaning we can only have the most simple of conversations. Also, kids can really tell whether or not someone is sincere. If you are insincere, it’s obvious and you can ruin your fragile relationship with them.
I had taught in Korea for two years in 2009/10 and I had never overcome those barriers. I finished my time there feeling frustrated. I just didn’t know how to get past the language thing, and I wasn’t confident enough in my own ability as a teacher to show them any vulnerability that is required in an honest emotional exchange.
Something is different this time around.
The easiest demographic for me to reach are the girl students. First, on average girls are always better in the classroom in my experience, and that translates to not only a better English ability, but a better experience between student and teacher during class hours. This makes them more comfortable to approach me and interact between classes or in the street. Secondly, I am a foreigner and male – an interesting specimen that requires further study on their part.
As a relatively intuitive person, I sometimes can tell when some of my students have been having a bad day, or that something is going on. It had always bothered me that especially with the boys, I had never been able to talk to them about what was going on.
Halfway through my contract, all of my grade 6 students (about 500 of them) graduated to Middle School. Having a better command of the language and being more confident in my ability this time around meant that I had actually forged some “real” emotional connections with some of the students that were now leaving. It kind of got to me, having to say goodbye. Then they were gone and it was time to move on.
As is the way of humans, we often return back to places that we had fond memories of, as kind of touchstones. This was what happened last Wednesday:
I was walking home at the end of the day, through the schoolyard, under a long gabled walkway. One of my old grade 6 boys came to the end of it, wearing his new school uniform and he turned, seeing me. He yelled my name (in this case, Mr. B) at the top of his lungs and ran towards me, arms spread in a style any Hollywood “B” movie director would be proud of. He crashed into me enveloping me into a crushing bear hug that nearly knocked me over.
We talked for a few minutes about his life at his new school, and the changes that were going on. He was having a rough time. He was smart but not particularly popular which didn’t help. The teachers were hard, the classes harder.
His eyes struck me as different, the best way that I can describe them is to say that they were…searching. He looked like he had lost something.
It struck me then, this was a child who had absolutely no clue how to deal with his new surroundings. He was lost in the world, being challenged in new ways, with new people all around him. So he returned to a place that he knew where he could be safe and maybe find his bearings again. His emotional vulnerability as we were talking was palpable. I was at a loss for words. Being there, I was at the right place at the right time and he reached out to me.
It was an incredibly meaningful experience to me. When I look at how I think about art and creating, art provides a wonderful connection between the creator and the past. To be alive means that you have lived a life up until this point and the act of creating puts you in touch with that past you have come from. When I experience difficulty or lose my bearings, I go to places that I know to be safe. Physical spaces, mental spaces. Places I have been to before.
When I create something, I often times feel that connection to my past. It’s a very real thing and there is comfort in that.
I really like the idea of continuity in our lives and in all things. I enjoy the knowledge that I have been places, and done things, and that those experiences relate to my current situation and enhance it.
It is a lonely thought to think about moving into the unknown without understanding our connection to the past. I think that understanding our connection to the past helps us to have perspective and gain context on the present and that helps us to move forward into the unknown.
The creative process feels like the ebb and flow of a tidal pool. Sometimes you go there and you find it full, other times it seems to be empty. Digging in the sand you can find traces of water but the mass of substance that you are yearning for is lost to you.
I don’t know if you can force the creative process.
I take consolation in the fact that when I have to dig, it may take a while and the pit may be vast, but I eventually begin to find the shapes of what I think I am looking for.
This image is part of an ongoing portraiture project that I am working on.
Portrait of a child, 2013
Contemplations on alternate media.
10 (Detail), 2013
Over the past few months I have been getting everything in place for the beginning of what is shaping up to look like a multi-year portrait project. Getting all of the permission forms translated, signed, and “official” looking has been quite the process. It’s great though, because now I have all of my documentation in Korean as well as English which makes future model-searching that much easier.
문어 (Mun-Eo) - Seoul, Korea 2013
Working away from SPAO these past few months have been pretty interesting, especially away from the normal modes that I was used to working in. Since coming to Korea, between trying to make time for climbing in the short season that we had here and working, many nights I spent simply trying to figure out which labs did a good job developing film, where I could find a print house, getting a scanner, and most importantly, figuring out what to shoot.
Now that everything has fallen into place and the climbing season is over, it’s time to get into production mode. I’ve been experimenting with some mixed media for a small body of work that I am keen on producing, and a second stream for this upcoming few months is requiring a ton of access, which means documents translated, permissions given, and promises made.
It’s a bit different than what I am used to, but that’s just how it must be here I guess.
The lack of being able to photograph what I wanted to has been driving me a bit crazy and I am really enthusiastic to get under way.