Behind
the Lens

Since I first picked up a camera in 2005, I have been drawn to the things most people overlook — the way morning light catches a rooftop tile, the silence of an empty alley after rain, the unguarded expression on a stranger’s face.

For over two decades, I have traveled across Korea — its coastlines, its cities, its forgotten villages — carrying nothing but a camera and an instinct for the in-between. The moment just before someone smiles. The sky five minutes after sunset. The texture of a wall that has weathered fifty winters.

I am not interested in perfection. I am interested in presence — in atmosphere, in the feeling you get when you look at an image and somehow remember a place you have never been.

Because this is who I have always been — and who I always want to be.