It was October 31, 2014–My roommate and I were working hard on our school assignments when we saw a group of construction workers in the hotel across the street. As our window faced directly to their window, they seemed eager to wave "Hello" to us, to which we gladly reciprocated. What happened next was a chain of downward events; the construction workers (clearly not focused on their job) began writing a phone number down on a large piece of cardboard and held it up against the window. The phone number obviously belonging to one of the many 40-something-year-old men, they began mouthing the number at us. Feeling extremely violated in our own home, my roommate and I began snapping photos of them using our phones and cameras as a way of returning the voyeuristic feeling. Unfortunately, this only provoked one of them because he began stripping by the window, gaze fixated onto us, like one of those prostitutes in the Red Light District. 

This event not only bugged me constantly for months afterwards (believe it or not, these things happen more often than not, entering into the privacy of our own apartment), but it also inspired me to create a photographic series out of it in March 2015. Neither my roommate nor I knew exactly what this man was thinking of when he was taking his clothes off, or what exact emotion drove him to do what he did. It wasn't exactly the taking off the clothes that bothered me, it was more the fact that he did it staring right at us. We didn't exactly know what he was thinking, so why were we so creeped out about his fixated gaze? Was it his age, his gender, his build, his ethnicity? Through this series, I wanted to ask myself, and throw the question out there, "What affects the message behind the gaze?".

Each participant was asked to portray a particular type of 'smile', picked randomly out of a hat by the participant. I simply captured their portrayal, and displayed the images for the audience to read and guess what kind of 'smile' they felt the participant was portraying. What is affecting your reading of the gaze?

Give it a guess.

I recently worked on a series of portraits called 'INTERRUPTION'. This series attempts to ask the question, "What is our reaction when technology prevents our ability to see the people we are in relationships with?". Like that odd phenomenon when you can't rip a photograph of your loving grandfather, but you aren't hesitant to tear apart a photograph of your ex-boyfriend. What emotions we carry with us for those who we have known for long or short, affects our ability to make connections to captured images of them. Through using technology to distort the faces of 5 people and their partners (friends, family, bf/gfs, exes, roommates), I'm attempting to stick my toes into the psychology of human relationships. 

Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments below.

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View in 'PERSONAL'...

Going through my archive of images on my hard drives, I found so many photographs of my travels from years past that I never had a chance to upload in a curated fashion. So I decided to start the fall with a glimpse into the past.

In 2013, I was a little ambitious and went traveling across 5 countries, and the first stop was Japan. I had first been to Japan when I was 13 visiting Kyoto and Osaka for a few days. Being so young and immature, all I remembered from this short trip was being frustrated about having to stand in the searing Japanese summer heat while visiting all the wonderful sights. So this time, I was determined to capture the beauties of this country's capital city with as much attention and no regrets. After all, they say "All that's left, are the photographs you took." / "남는건 사진밖에 없다." 

Tokyo was both a nostalgic dream and an inspirational playground. Taking the JR Yamanote line between Shin-Okubo and Harajuku, the suburban scenes that passed before my eyes were the real sources of inspiration for directors like Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata. I felt as if I were in the shoes of the creators of some of my childhood films. The short subway ride took me back in time and to a place where artists only had the smell of morning rain and the sounds of birds and insects as inspiration to build a world of pure imagination. I was pleasantly surprised to experience these thoughts in Tokyo, a city known for its advancement in innovative technology.

Where childhood memories connected me with aged artists, I was also inspired as a young creative myself, by the boisterous youth culture. As I walked down the district streets in Shibuya, I felt incredibly welcomed to celebrate my youth; the busy nightlife included various open-concept bars and alcoves filled with the smell and sounds of sizzling street food, as well as an absurd amount of young 20-somethings carrying shopping bags from stores like Sword Fish, JSG, and Me Jane. This was were consumerism came to die, and celebrate everything it had to offer. From nail bars (Vanila Dew) to cafe-turned-live music bars (café Studio), from DIY perfume shops (Le Labo) to dessert-only buffets (Sweet Paradise), there was everything and anything you didn't think you'd need because you didn't know was a thing. 

Tokyo was not just a vacation spot, it was a spot in my own imagination come to life. It was the perfect place to spend guilt-free, and a place of absolute tranquility—all in one. In Tokyo, you don't travel, you live. 

Continued in 'TRAVEL'...