Stories of my photography students—

 

The Korean community in Laos is small.

Not a single soul calls themselves an artist here. Except for me. Then again, I hold a US passport, so calling myself Korean is a bit of a contradiction anyway.

Less than one percent has even the faintest interest in art. When you're busy just scraping by, having that kind of room to breathe is the ultimate luxury.

In my early days in Laos, there were Koreans who had plenty of time on their hands. When I said I was giving photography lessons, ten people showed up. Now, we are down to three dead-serious obsessives. While the seven who left all had their own reasons living in a foreign land, they say my naive bluntness played a big part.

When someone puts a ridiculous photo in front of me, I just call it ridiculous.

I'm not diplomatic. I'm blunt. I might explain the 'why' afterwards, but by then it’s already too late. Humans are creatures of emotion; the moment their feelings get bruised, it’s game over.

So, one by one, they left. Yet whenever they visit Laos, they still drop by to say hello. And it's genuinely great to see them when they do.

 

The three die-hards who stayed feel like my true wealth.

Each of them possesses an unmistakable perspective of their own.

 

One of them seems poised to become a master of portraiture. Portraiture is by far the toughest discipline in photography. Yet the angle from which this artist shoots people is entirely different. It possesses power, and it speaks: 'This is who I am!' What I always stress is that a photograph must contain a story. This person’s work conjures countless stories; you can catch a glimpse of the deep pride the Lao people carry. Someone who didn't even know the ABCs of photography had their entire vision transformed by a single shot. Sparked by that photograph of a lovely young child holding a candle, the world through their eyes reached the realm of art.

Art is distinctiveness. It is through that difference that humanity evolves.

 

Another student could not be more feminine.

She sees a simplicity invisible to ordinary eyes. At first, her talent shone through the way an apple was placed beneath the fall of light. That could have been a beginner's perspective anyone might stumble into, but she broke the mold. Her delicacy and the touch of her finger capturing the decisive moment are remarkable. She even won a prize in a competition. In Lao photography contests, a Lao local is naturally destined to take first place. Her second-place finish was practically the crown, conceded only out of circumstance.

 

The third student is a quiet artist who speaks entirely through action. In our lesson the week before, I was struck dumb. When a photograph on a completely different plane was placed before me, words failed me. Originality is the word that suits her best. A silent roar. To truly understand her photographs, one would have to see right through the achievements of those who claim to know photography. She has reached a level where the phrase 'the student has surpassed the master' feels truly deserved.

All three of these artists lead demanding lives, yet they still do their photography assignments. That is by no means an easy feat. Gathering once a week to critique each other's work and learn together has become a gathering of true 'friends.' As a guide, I simply pour my heart into doing my part to broaden their horizons.

 

Photography is easy to pick up, but the further in you go, the steeper the mountain gets.