Return of the Genius Photographer

Photographer Nam Woojin’s photo was of an elderly woman.

She wore a beautiful lavender-colored hanbok.

Her wrinkled hands gently caressed a gravestone, the image of a lonely elder.

The woman appeared to be speaking to the grave, her expression exceptionally tender.

Though a photograph cannot capture sound, it seemed as though the deep loneliness she felt conveyed the words she wished to say.

“Wow…”

Shin Sang-moon couldn’t help but marvel at the photo, standing still as he stared at it.

He was desperately trying to find the right words to describe what he felt.

But he didn’t know what to say.

“Uh… sir…”

“Oh, right…”

Sang-moon snapped out of his reverie, thanks to his subordinate’s worried question.

However, a lingering sense of awe still remained in his chest.

Just as he tried to soothe that feeling by rubbing his hand over his heart, the subordinate asked him something.

“I don’t really understand how this photo relates to the theme of lack. I mean, a photo expressing poverty would make the theme clearer, wouldn’t it?”

“What? You can’t see the connection after looking at this photo?”

Sang-moon’s tone was raised, sounding both incredulous and frustrated.

When his subordinate didn’t respond, startled by his sharp tone, Sang-moon let out a sigh and continued speaking.

“How long have you been working here?”

“Uh… it’s been exactly three years now.”

“And how many exhibitions have you worked on?”

“This is my first one. I worked in a different department last year, so this is my first time in this section.”

Sang-moon nodded at the response.

“Okay. Then it makes sense that you wouldn’t know.”

The main task of Hanseong Cultural Foundation was organizing annual photography exhibitions, but like most cultural foundations, it also handled other standard responsibilities.

It seemed this subordinate had been transferred from another department—a mid-level newcomer, so to speak.

No wonder he wasn’t familiar with photography.

“The lack expressed in this photo isn’t just one thing.”

“Sorry?”

Sang-moon began explaining slowly.

The ‘lack‘ captured in Nam Woojin’s photo wasn’t limited to a single interpretation.

There was the lack of life, represented by the cemetery.

The lack of unfulfilled desires.

And the overarching theme of the lack of love throughout the entire image.

The more you look into the photo, the more you realize how many stories are packed into this one image.

The photographer’s approach and philosophy were embedded deeply within the photo.

“Ah… I think I’m starting to understand now. But then why would someone capable of taking such a photo only submit one? Shouldn’t it be better to send more to promote himself? It seems strange to me.”

The subordinate, nodding at Sang-moon’s explanation, suddenly voiced his curiosity.

“Even though I don’t know much, wouldn’t submitting more photos be more advantageous for promotion? Especially in an auction setting…”

“Well… I’m not really sure either. Maybe it means he’s that confident…”

As Sang-moon was answering his subordinate’s question, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

‘Could it be that submitting just one photo was part of his plan?’

A sudden chill ran down his spine.

For this new photographers exhibition, to ensure that each photographer’s work would stand out, the venue was divided into zones, with all of a photographer’s works grouped together.

For example, if photographer Han Sang-hoon’s zone was set in the northeast corner of the exhibition hall, all his photos would be displayed in that area.

This structure made it difficult to focus on just one photo since the pieces were placed so closely together.

‘What if he anticipated this?’

Shin Sang-moon imagined it.

A long corridor-style exhibition hall.

He pictured himself walking down the path lined with photos along the corridor.

The photos continued closely, one after another.

But at some point, the path of photos suddenly ended.

A brief stretch of empty space followed.

And at the end of that empty space was Nam Woojin’s single photograph.

It was waiting to greet him.

To Sang-moon, that photo felt like the centerpiece of the exhibition.

Even though this was a group exhibition with multiple artists, and there wasn’t any designated main piece, Nam Woojin’s photo would undoubtedly stand out as if it were the main attraction.

If Nam Woojin’s choice to submit just one photo was a calculated move, it would mean he had considered exactly how his work would be displayed in the exhibition.

‘No, that can’t be…’

Sang-moon shook his head in denial.

But deep down, he couldn’t shake the strange sense of anticipation that perhaps Nam Woojin had planned it all.

“Then, will Nam Woojin’s photo be the one selected for the auction?”

Just then, his subordinate asked him.

Since Sang-moon had praised the photo so much, the subordinate wondered if it was a given that Nam Woojin’s work would be chosen for the auction.

“No, we can’t say for sure. The piece chosen for auction is decided by the chairman.”

Sang-moon shook his head.

His opinion was, after all, just a personal one.

It was ultimately up to Chairman Han to review all the pieces and make the final judgment.

“Don’t you think the chairman will like it too?”

“Well, how can we know what the chairman thinks?”

“When will the auction piece be decided?”

“Hmm… Probably after the exhibition ends?”

“What? That long?”

The subordinate widened his eyes in surprise at Sang-moon’s response.

But Sang-moon, accustomed to the process, answered without concern.

“The chairman is extremely cautious, you know. And his standards are so high that he’s rarely satisfied with most photos.”

“Then…”

“Nam Woojin’s photo might look no different from any other to the chairman.”

Even though Sang-moon said this to his subordinate, he couldn’t entirely shake the hopeful thought.

Could that be true?

Could this photo really seem just ordinary in the chairman’s eyes?

He wanted to see it for himself.

“How many days are left before the exhibition starts?”

Sang-moon, driven by curiosity, asked his subordinate for the timeline.

“Hmm… Since we need to print the photos and place them in the exhibition hall along with the descriptions the photographers sent, we have exactly 10 days left starting from today.”

“Ten days…”

Chairman Han would come to the exhibition the day before it opened, once everything was set up—so about nine days from now.

‘Ah… how will I wait until then?’

Sang-moon was eager to see the result.

* * * * *

Just as Sang-moon had hoped, the nine days passed in the blink of an eye.

The exhibition would officially open tomorrow, but Sang-moon was already at the venue a day early.

Today was the day Chairman Han Gun-ho would be visiting the exhibition.

‘Ugh… I already took some calming pills, so why am I still so nervous?’

Sang-moon anxiously tapped his feet and took deep breaths.

He had been involved in this exhibition for years, and yet, no matter how much he should be used to it by now, meeting the chairman always made him tense.

In hindsight, it was probably natural.

Normally, someone at a department head level would never have the chance to meet the chairman of a company, let alone interact with him.

If he didn’t work at this cultural foundation, he probably would never have met Han Gun-ho in his lifetime.

Though officially, this exhibition was a charity event for emerging photographers, its true essence stemmed from the chairman’s passion for photography.

Chairman Han’s visit today wasn’t for any particular reason either.

He was simply coming to enjoy the photos.

Since the exhibition would be crowded during the official event, he preferred to come beforehand and appreciate the photos in peace.

After a while of waiting, Sang-moon spotted a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulling up the road in the distance.

It was Chairman Han Gun-ho’s vehicle.

‘He’s here… don’t mess this up.’

Sang-moon gulped nervously and took a deep breath as the car came to a stop in front of him.

The attendants quickly opened the door.

Chairman Han Gun-ho stepped out of the Rolls-Royce with a calm demeanor.

“Good afternoon, Chairman. I’m Shin Sang-moon, the one in charge of preparing this exhibition.”

“Ah, you’ve worked hard.”

“No, thank you, sir!”

As Sang-moon handed over a catalog that briefly explained the exhibition, Chairman Han, adjusting his black suit, accepted it with graceful poise.

Who would ever guess this man was nearing seventy years old?

With his broad shoulders and imposing stature that matched the height of his attendants, Han Gun-ho’s charisma made Sang-moon feel small, like a mere mouse in front of a lion.

Even though he hadn’t done anything wrong, he felt like a guilty man.

It was no wonder people at the company nicknamed him “Baekho” (White Tiger).

If this were the Joseon era, he would probably have been a great general.

“Then, I’ll take my time and enjoy the exhibition.”

“Yes, sir!”

With a subtle gesture, Chairman Han signaled his attendants to step back. They bowed and retreated.

Thankfully, the chairman preferred a quiet viewing experience. If this were an official event, the place would be swarming with attendants, reporters, and crowds.

Imagining that scene, Sang-moon swallowed nervously once again before opening the door to the exhibition hall.

*

Chairman Han briefly closed his eyes in front of the exhibition hall.

Then he steadied himself.

To fully appreciate the photographs, one must clear their mind of unnecessary thoughts.

‘I wonder what kind of photos there will be.’

Chairman Han’s heart fluttered with anticipation.

Though he was at an age where excitement had long worn thin, stepping into an exhibition hall always felt like opening a gift box as a child.

He had been slightly disappointed after reviewing the participants’ résumés.

However, the potential of emerging photographers was like an unpredictable bomb that could go off at any moment.

Nothing would make Chairman Han happier than seeing one of those bombs go off at this exhibition.

“The theme of ‘deficiency’ couldn’t have been an easy one…”

Chairman Han Gun-ho recalled the theme he had chosen.

Deficiency

A word that had been lingering in his mind for some time now.

In an effort to resolve the inexplicable frustration he had been feeling, he chose it as the theme.

How would the photographers express this?

With a sense of anticipation, Chairman Han stepped into the empty exhibition hall.

“Hmm.”

The first photo that caught his eye was of an elderly man pulling a cart.

— An elderly man collecting paper scraps —

The old man stumbles along today as well, gathering paper. The little money he scrapes together seems barely enough to get through a single day.

– Photographer: Cho Kyung-wook

Reading the brief description beside the photo, Chairman Han nodded.

The photo boldly depicted the destitute figure of the old man, seemingly speaking of poverty.

‘Did they intend to start off simply?’

It was a straightforward photo, something Chairman Han had expected when he chose the theme.

When one thinks of deficiency, poverty is the first thing that comes to mind.

‘It’s exactly what I anticipated. A bit disappointing.’

At this point, his disappointment was mild.

However.

The next photo.

And the one after that.

Every photo that followed was about poverty.

All of them repetitive and cliché.

‘Is this the best they can do?’

The exhibition, which he had so eagerly anticipated, being filled with poverty left him not only disappointed but increasingly angry at the photographers.

As Chairman Han’s face grew more stern with every step, both his secretary and Sang-moon, who had been watching closely, became anxious.

“Hmm… at least this one…”

— Broken Wings —

The young man has once again failed to secure a job. Where has the ambition to soar high into the sky gone? Like a bird with broken wings, he hangs his head in despair.

– Photographer: Han Sang-hoon

The photo was of a man in an awkwardly fitting suit, his head hanging low.

The image was meant to depict the lack of ambition described in the accompanying text.

But even that moment of interest was fleeting.

The following photos returned to the same tired theme.

Poverty. Destitution. Deprivation.

Photos that desperately tried to evoke emotion through images of the impoverished.

It felt like poverty porn.

‘I made time for this…’

Feeling increasingly displeased, Chairman Han quickened his steps, as though he could no longer stand to be there.

He rushed past the remaining photos without giving them much attention, heading toward the end of the exhibition hall.

Shocked by his sudden haste, Sang-moon and the secretary hurried to follow.

But just as Chairman Han was striding forward, his steps came to an abrupt halt, as if something had stopped him in his tracks.

Or rather, as if something had seized him.

Chairman Han stood still, motionless.

“…Ah.”

At the far end of the exhibition, a single photo hung, isolated from the rest.

As soon as Chairman Han’s eyes fell on the picture, his expression began to shift.

The anger on his face turned to surprise.

Surprise transformed into admiration.

And then admiration deepened into awe.

His face changed by the second, yet his gaze remained fixed on the photograph.

In the image, an elderly woman sat alone in front of a grave, dressed in a hanbok.

She stared at the grave, but her eyes seemed to be looking beyond it, as though remembering a distant loved one.

Chairman Han’s eyes widened more than they had in years as he gazed at the photo.

Slowly, his eyes drifted to the caption next to the picture.

— Your Silence —

The reason I groan every morning is not because of arthritis. It’s because of the longing for you, who left me all alone.

My beloved, though you have left me, I have never let you go.

– Photographer: Nam Woojin

A wave of sorrow surged through him.

From the moment he saw the photo, a strange tightness filled Chairman Han’s chest.

His fingertips trembled.

The sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears like a drum.

An overwhelming sadness seemed to tear through him, making his head buzz.

“Chairman! Are you all right?”

As Chairman Han Gun-ho clutched his chest, unable to contain the sorrow, the alarmed secretary rushed over and supported him.

“Chairman…?”

The chairman was crying.

‘The chairman is…’

The Han Gun-ho that the secretary knew was someone entirely removed from the concept of “tears.”

He was a self-made tycoon who had risen to the top of the business world through sheer grit…

A man whose veins seemed to run with molten steel instead of blood, who wouldn’t bat an eye even if a blade was pressed to his throat.

Yet, that very man was shedding tears.

The titan of Hanseong Group.

The great man they called the “White Tiger.”

He wept.

As though he were a child, no older than five or six.

So, so sorrowfully.

With deep, unrelenting grief.

“Chairman…”

And then, the chairman spoke.

“I showed such disgrace, thinking about Yeong-rye.”

It was the name of the one he had loved.

The one who had left him behind…

The one he had loved with all his heart.

“Madam Yeong-rye, you mean…?”

The chairman nodded.

“I’ve accomplished everything.”

It was an arrogant statement, but it was true.

He had climbed to the top of the business world.

From nothing, with nothing but his bare hands, he had made it.

“I’ve done it all…”

The chairman stared blankly into space.

No…

He was looking back at his past.

“All thanks to Yeong-rye.”

It was from a time when he was just a schoolboy with a shaved head.

The sun was beginning to set.

Chairman Han was riding his bicycle along the dirt paths by the rice fields.

“Yeong-rye-ah.”

Sitting behind him was his wife, as she had been in their youth.

She used to follow him everywhere, saying how much she liked him…

Just a girl from the neighborhood, one year younger.

“I’m going to start a business someday.”

“A business?”

“I’ll become rich by running a business.”

To this, Yeong-rye had replied,

“To start a business, don’t you have to go to Seoul?”

“Yes, I’ll go to Seoul.”

“If you leave for Seoul, I’ll be bored.”

His wife, then just a young girl, with her hair braided into two pigtails.

She smiled brightly, like the fresh wild grass of early summer.

“But if you become rich, that’ll be nice.”

“You need the business to go well to become rich.”

“You’re someone who can do anything, though.”

Young Han was momentarily silent at her words.

Her unwavering trust in him.

The way she believed he could do anything…

“Yes, I can do anything.”

That belief is what had made him who he was today.

“Do you want to come to Seoul with me?”

“With you?”

“Yes, you can be the wife of a nouveau riche.”

Young Han Gun-ho smiled.

“When I become rich, you’ll be the wife of a rich man.”

His young wife smiled brightly.

“Okay, that sounds good!”

And young Han Gun-ho, with his shaved head, pedaled hard.

“I’ll buy you a gold ring.”

Why did I say that?

“I’ll buy you fine silk dresses.”

Why on earth did I say that?

“I’ll make you happy.”

Why did I make so many promises I couldn’t keep?

He worked relentlessly.

The Seoul he rushed to was a living hell.

Success naturally followed…

Consumed by ambition, he threw himself entirely into work.

All he had wanted was to keep his promises.

To be the person who could do anything, just as she believed.

So he worked without rest.

Work, work, work…

The only time he paused was—

“Yeong-rye-ah…”

The day he faced her portrait at her funeral.

Chairman Han snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Woojin’s photograph.

“I wish I could change it.”

What was the use of wealth and fame?

“I wouldn’t care how many times I failed or fell…”

He reached out toward Woojin’s photograph.

“Yeong-rye…”

He whispered the name of the one he had loved so deeply.

There was a time…

When all he focused on was loving her.

“My poor Yeong-rye, who only ever suffered because of me…”

He wept bitterly.

“If only I could see that beautiful face of yours just one more time…”

His voice quivered with emotion.

“I would give up everything…”

Finally—

“Chairman! Chairman!”

He fell to his knees, collapsing on the spot.

With his large hands covering his face, his broad shoulders shook as he sobbed uncontrollably.

“Why was I in such a hurry?”

He had finally grasped everything.

Just as she had said…

He had achieved it all.

But…

She was no longer there.

“I can buy you that gold ring now…”

His hollow voice fell weakly to the floor.

“I can buy you those fine clothes too…”

The icy wall encasing his heart began to melt.

“I have everything now…”

His lips trembled.

“But you… you’re not here…”

The chairman’s sobs showed no sign of stopping, echoing for a long while.

He wondered…

Why had he become so defenseless in the face of a single photograph?

In the grey concrete jungle…

Where he had vowed never to reveal his vulnerabilities to anyone.

He hadn’t been born a rock, but he had resolved to live like a clam, hiding his soft insides.

‘Yet here I am, brought to my knees by a single photograph…’

He had seen countless photographs before, but none had ever rendered him so powerless.

If this wasn’t art, then what could possibly be called art?

He slowly lifted his head to gaze at Woojin’s photograph.

The framed picture looked almost sacred.

“A masterpiece…”

In his eyes, it was unmistakably the masterpiece of a lifetime.