It feels like just yesterday I was lost in the bustling energy of Photoville, a place that always manages to be both overwhelming and incredibly inspiring. This year, MUG Publishing once again had a strong presence, showcasing a diverse range of Korean photographers. Jinhee Bae's follow-up portraits, revisiting her earlier subjects, offered a poignant glimpse into lives in motion. Then there was Kim Gyosik's intricate photographic experiments – work I've admired for years. And Jaegu Kang's stark, almost unsettling, (anti-)portraits of Korean soldiers served as a powerful reminder of the individual within the collective.
The publications themselves, presented by MUG, were refreshingly clean and direct. More like reference catalogs than precious objects, they let the photographs and accompanying texts speak for themselves. It's a design philosophy that, frankly, I appreciate. Amidst the festival's sheer volume, these works, along with others like Eun-jong Lee's "City SEOUL" and Sperling Kim's "Urinara," really stood out.
Speaking of books, I always find myself drawn to conversations about the photographic process. Dayanita Singh's discussion on bookmaking with the NY Times Lens Blog was particularly insightful, highlighting how the physical form of a book is integral to her creative vision. It’s a reminder that a photograph doesn't truly live until it's presented, and the book is often the most intimate stage for that presentation.
I also recall stumbling upon a fascinating conversation on the Aperture blog about Asian American photographers. While the headline might have been a tad click-baity, the discussion itself was vital. It’s crucial to have these dialogues, to acknowledge the existing talent and to push for greater representation. The work of Mary Kang, Tommy Kha, and Jessica Chou, mentioned in that piece, is truly compelling, each making "visual space for nuanced dialogue," as one of the participants noted.
Looking back, 2017 was a bit of a quiet year for my own blog, but the plan for 2018 was to get back into a rhythm, perhaps with shorter, more descriptive posts. Having recently returned from Korea, I've got a stack of new books to dive into, some from 2017 and even a few lingering from 2016. It’s always a joy to spend time with these tangible pieces of photographic art.
One book that’s been particularly on my mind is Oksun Kim’s "Happy Together." The portraits of mixed-race couples, with their quiet intensity and the subtle gaze of the Asian partner towards the camera while the Western partner looks away, are incredibly thought-provoking. They speak volumes about identity, connection, and perhaps the subtle complexities of navigating our increasingly interconnected, yet sometimes fractured, world. It’s a series that stays with you, prompting reflection long after you’ve turned the last page.
