Memento mori

There are over 35,000 historical burial sites known as dolmens in South Korea. Former physics teacher, photographer and long-time friend Jun Lyel Ahn explains his beginnings in celestial photography to his fascination with these stone grave sites.

Jung Lyel Ahn, what fascinates you about photography?

There are so many things that can be expressed in photographs and I think the primal charm of photography is that it is the clearest recording medium. Archiving photos with preservation value would be like that. In addition, photography can capture things that many people will be curious about; an informational photo report on an accident, a photo of a variety of landscapes that will comfort the mind and an intellectual area that has not been touched at all (it may be a place or a new technology). In the work of revealing such things to the world, photography is also playing a role. However, the ultimate attraction of photography is that it is an image language that can contain one’s thoughts and philosophy. In this regard, I believe that photographers who are dedicated to art photography must constantly pursue the public concerns of the present era and the concerns of recreating a certain part of the paradigm of various aspects of the upcoming future.

Did you learn photography by yourself?

To a certain extent yes. During my time as a science teacher, I wrote a lot of scientific specialist books that needed reference material. Standard science work – textbooks require a lot of distinct photos. I composed the images that I needed in almost all of my books: the publishers liked it very much. I spent more time with the camera than with writing the manuscript. During this process, I realized that I could express my thoughts with photos. From then on, photography began to become difficult. As I looked around to quench my thirst, I found an art photography program offered by the Hanmi Museum of Photography, where I studied photography for three years (2014-2016). As luck would have it, the ‘Korea Photo Culture Research Institute’ opened my eyes to photography while studying with Professor Choi Bong-rim, the director of the institute. He may be one of the top three photography critics in Korea. While studying there, I started to feel the depth of art photography.

It seemed to me that encountering a wild boar in the deep mountain was the biggest threat…

Jung Lyel Ahn

Can you tell us a bit more about your first photo projects?

In the early days, I mainly photographed stars. When making my early works, I was still engaged as a science teacher. During the daytime I taught and at night I went out to take photos of starry nights. On some days, I was very tired from teaching all day. But as soon as I drove into the mountain for a night shooting, I felt satisfied and happy. My adrenaline level usually went up as I wandered around to shoot photos without realizing that I was tired. During my nights of shooting the work “A Starry Night Sky,” I accidentally encountered a dolmen. I was fascinated by it and since then I became devoted to the work of the dolmen.

What was particularly difficult when you took the “A Starry Night Sky” photos?

The main theme of “A Starry Night Sky” is celestial photography. Star photography has to be taken at night. Additionally, if you want to go to a place where there is no light around, you have to go outside the city and further into the mountain areas. It usually was very dark, lonely and demanding – I was afraid. In particular, I was afraid of getting lost in the middle of the dense forest. It seemed to me that encountering a wild boar in the deep mountain was the biggest threat. So I was very careful about the perimeter when I was on foot or while immersed in shooting a photo.

For the project “Trees on Island in Lake” the time required was enormous. Why did you choose this particular place as a photo object? I know from various discussions we had that you spend a lot of time in the Rabbit Island area to create your beautiful and comforting photos of the trees and the island reflecting in the lake. How did it come to you to choose this particular place?

Initially, I needed a place to train my photography skills. The Rabbit Island is not too far from my home and very suitable for what I wanted to achieve. During quiet dawns, the flow of the water diminishes and the reflections are wonderful. It is also a place where the mist rises nicely in the morning when the temperature increases. In a way, it’s similar to the feeling that the scenery of Michael Kenna’s work “Pine Trees” produces.

Best of all, it was easily accessible, so I liked this as a place to shoot regularly. I made up my mind to do my shoots on a fixed day. Since 2014, I have come back and continued my work steadily. I usually return twice a month year-round. The sun and moon are my guides for every season. For a steady frame, I made a scaffold with cement at the place where the tripod would be mounted.

How did your family react to the project “Trees on Island in Lake?” You spent part of every weekend at this one place to take pictures. Did your family join you?

During weekends, there are a lot of people visiting and it can be a bit of a hindrance for work. But of course, sometimes my wife and I go there to relax. There, I feel comfortable and I feel like I’m in my home of photography. My wife feels like a champion of my photography work. She always cheers for me, gives advice and provides a lot of encouragement. I am very grateful. I live with a grateful heart.

How did you prepare for each photo project?

Actually, it’s very rare to go with my wife. When we go together, I bring coffee, drinks and simple fruits. I go there with the feeling of a picnic.

But when coming for my work, I have a certain pattern of my own. First of all, I arrive at the location 30 minutes prior to sunrise. I always mount the tripod in the same place and at the same height. I then take an angle test shot so that I have the same angle, photo detail and view. Then, if all is set to go, usually this is around 10 minutes before sunrise, I’ll be ready for the main shoot. Meaning waiting for the right time, light, mist and so forth.

What made you start the project “Ancient Messages”?

As you may imagine, only taking photos of stars can become monotonous. The subject of a celestial photo is a star, but the emotions vary considerably depending on the subjects within the pictures. One day, I accidentally took a photo of a dolmen while composing a night photo and suddenly stopped shooting. I was just fascinated by the heaviness of the dolmen.

The impression of the moment – the symbolism of the ancient people’s culture was emphasized by the starlight on the dolmen – it made me shiver from excitement.

Since that day, I started shooting at the same place in Ganghwa Island in search of dolmen – almost 30 times. As I got deeper and deeper into the subject of dolmen, I felt that there were countless stories among them and each dolmen I visited presented me with an unspoken message. So I was searching for the major dolmen regions around the country to find more. I started to capture the individuality of each.

How do people react when looking at the photo images of “Ancient Messages?”

There are many reactions to the dolmen pictures. However, there are two stories that have remained in my memory.

At one of my exhibitions, I observed a visitor who stood in front of the Ganghwa Dolmen piece for a long time. I slowly approached the visitor and wanted to ask him for his opinion and feelings, but it did not come to that. I stood next to him and paused for a while. The elderly man cried while he looked at my work of art. Later, I met him again at the exhibition and spoke with him. I wanted to know what feelings the piece had triggered in him. He explained his emotions to me in a calm, but strained voice. While looking at the picture, he experienced “memento mori” (remember that you must die). He said that he had felt a strong awareness of the “preciousness of the moment.”

A pounding shock pierced my chest and I realized that I, too, often felt the same sensation when I worked on my art. So there it was: empathy. A feeling where people and their emotions can communicate with each other through a single photographic work. That was very impressive.

At another exhibition, a famous Korean poet, Chae Hyeon-byeong, approached me. He looked at my pictures very closely and wrote the following poem:

This poem captured the process of my work. I will always remember the person who gave me a wonderful verse that fits the essence of my work.

Which philosophical questions will you visually realize next?

Change and being. All things experience birth and death. In between lies “existence,” the summit of all philosophical themes. Changes are inherent in the flow of ontological life. And there will be a unique essence that does not change in the midst of this. In my next project, “Still Life,” I go on a journey to reflect on what the essence of life is and what the value of essence is.

Jung Lyel Ahn was born in Daegu in 1962. He was a science (physics) teacher from 1989 to 2019 and studied art photography at the Hanmi Museum of Photography in Seoul. Since 2016, he has regularly exhibited his images in museums and galleries. Ahn is married, has a daughter and a son and lives in Seoul.