Peace & war, in the rain
Foreword
You know that time when you have been doing things in a specific way for a long while and you grew tired of it, when your mind just yearns for a change, for a different perspective, a different taste of life? Well, for me, that time is now.
I have sought dramatic landscapes, perfect weather, perfect sunsets and sunrises in my personal projects, I got obsessed with finding the tallest rooftop, the one view point from a mountain no-one had ever shot before: I was in a rush. 빨리 빨리 you may say and you’d be right. As a freshly arrived European, Seoul and Korea in general made me hungry for so much.
But after having lived more than a third of my life here my perspective shifted, the hunger got mostly quenched and, even though I am always in search of great aesthetics I have come to realize that my photography is now about finding myself, about conquering those insecurities I tried to hide in the sensationalism of my shots, about finding a way to develop my own style and grow it, expand it and learn every step of the way.
We’ve all known a young hasty immature photographer who thinks he knows his game and doesn’t want to see all the doors that are opened right next to him. I have been him. I enjoyed being him. That adrenaline is hard to move on from. And yet...
Now I aim at being a wise, patient photographer, caring more about his craft than about himself and even the results. You don’t learn to kickflip in a day, you can’t climb class 5 routes after a few classes. Well, I just got my first board and I’m only just looking at climbing shoes for the first time.
This is where I feel that I am in my landscape photography journey and looking forward, I want to share my progression with you so that I might spark in you the warm, scintillating fire of getting out and experiencinge the outdoors, with or without a camera.
So here we go, for my first blog post!
This is our goal for the first part of this story: 국기봉 (“flag peak”, at least, that’s what people call it! 330ish meters high), a low peak near the entrance of Gwanaksan from Sadang station.
Down in Seoul it was gloomy and drizzly, so what better course of action than putting on a rain poncho and going hikinggo hiking? After all, I rarely see foggy shots of Seoul and its surrounding mountains. It was also the first time I went out to find fog to shoot forest style pictures.
So, here I am, packed up all my zoom lenses, alone on the trail up to the peak. It’s drizzling, it’s quiet, it’s calm. Even the traffic noise seems to have receded to a mere memory. The smell of jasmine is flooding my spirits, creating a whole world of imaginary angles I want to capture, creating a mountain of expectations. I am really on the best course I could have ever been.
It is only after 30 minutes that I finally reach the top of a cliff-like rock formation, and that I finally get my first taste of the clouds I could see from the bottom. But also, the wind that picked up my poncho made it harder to walk between the boulders. so I cautiously advanced until I could finally see my destination.
The flag did not know any rest that day. Neither did the clouds that whipped past between me and the peak. Conditions were ever-changing, turbulent and yet so peaceful. Once in the clouds, rain stopped altogether, and shooting became a pleasure. Finding angles was a struggle but I found a couple that worked well enough to show what Korean mountains are for me: the pleasure of climbing boulders and a dense, full-of-life forest.
From the bottom, 국기봉 stands tall like an impenetrable fortress. Especially in this fog, it looked particularly ominous. It just makes it more fun to climb it! I tried to shoot it in a way to make you feel like a spy, hiding behind boulders, looking for a secret way in.
And a good spy you’d have to be! I assume that Gwanaksan was a strategic mountain during the Korean War because on this side of the mountain, and on almost all the trails I have hiked here you will find concrete bunkers.
I couldn't really hope for better conditions to shoot this place: the ambient gloom, the dark, violent history the bunker is connected to and this sharp torn rock formation in the back… The scene reminded me of those realistic 1944 Normandy landing movies. Whether those bunkers were left there intentionally or not, they are a stark reminder that the current conflict is not yet over, and that the peace we all enjoy and cherish today is only hanging by a so tenuous thread. Thread and concrete on a completely destroyed and regrowing mountain that asked for none of it.
Some of those bunkers are closed by barbed wire but most are open so if you find yourself in this area make sure to walk in. You might find some mementos of that dark part of Korea’s history:
I found this drawing in a bunker looking over the Seoul University campus. It describes the available shooting angles from the tiny window. Though it is hard now to imagine what clear view the soldiers had, I can’t help thinking that I am glad trees have now covered that window, as if nature was sending a message to humans to move on from violence.
I will end part 1 here, and let you imagine the contrast between the peace I felt from those clouds sliding on trees and rocks, and troubled images induced by those wartime relics. In part 2 I will focus on the inside beauty of this trail in the fog during springtime.
Thank you for reading up till this point, especially as it is my first post. This is still work in development… If you would like me to cover some subject or place don’t hesitate to say it the comment section. If not, I will see you in part 2!