Return of the Genius Photographer

“Thank you, everyone, for your hard work.”

“Great job!”

“Well done!”

As soon as the shoot ended, the atmosphere in the studio shifted from serious to relaxed, with everyone bowing their heads and exchanging greetings.

“Thank you for your hard work setting up the lights.”

“Oh no, the real hard work was yours, Photographer-nim.”

“Those were some great shots, Photographer-nim.”

“We only set up the equipment, really. We’d love to work with you again.”

As I thanked the assistant staff who had helped with the shoot, they responded kindly before promptly beginning to dismantle the lighting equipment.

Watching the diligent crew working behind the scenes made me realize that photography wasn’t just the photographer’s achievement alone.

Of course, a photo was the work of the photographer, but without the support of those who made it easier for the photographer to focus on their craft, certain shots wouldn’t have been possible.

“Excuse me, would you mind if I took a picture of you all?”

Feeling grateful for the moment, I approached the staff and asked to take a photo. I didn’t want to forget how I was feeling right now.

“Us?”

They seemed surprised, unaccustomed to being the ones in front of the camera instead of setting it up. But after I explained my reasons, they nodded in understanding.

“In that case, it would be an honor for us.”

“The photographer has a warm heart, too.”

They quickly gathered around, and just as they all made eye contact, I pressed the shutter.

– Click!

The light, cheerful sound of the shutter filled the air, and only after checking the captured photo did I tuck my camera away.

“What were you doing?”

Editor Yoon Jung-ah, who seemed to have noticed this from afar, approached and asked me.

“Just wanted to capture something.”

“Even after the shoot is done, you still want to take more pictures?”

Editor Yoon clicked her tongue at my response.

I couldn’t tell if it was pure amazement or disbelief, but her reaction made it clear she was taken aback.

“You must really love photography,” she remarked.

Did I really love it?

I had spent my whole life taking photos, and even if I were to be reborn, I’d still be immersed in photography. But was that because I loved it?

At this point, it was probably more accurate to say I was obsessed with photography rather than just loving it.

That thought crossed my mind, but I simply smiled in response and didn’t elaborate.

“Shall we discuss the contract now?” I asked, steering the conversation back to business.

The exclusive contract with VOTUS was finalized in the same meeting room where I had first met Yoon Jung-ah.

By now, the studio had cleared out, and fewer people were visible through the glass walls than during the shoot.

“Here’s the contract. Please take your time to read it.”

“Thank you.”

“To give you the important details first: for today’s shoot, you’ll receive a 2.5 million won advance payment. After that, payments will be made monthly.”

As she handed me the thick contract, Yoon Jung-ah continued her explanation.

“The payment structure is outlined in the contract. But to put it simply, the more you shoot, the more you’ll earn.”

I skimmed the contract as I listened to her. For collaborations with external photographers like today, payment was calculated by the hour. However, the exclusive contract was based on the number of shots taken.

For smaller shoots with fewer images, the income might be less than during freelance collaborations, but for larger projects like studio or special feature shoots with more shots, the income could actually be higher.

From the magazine’s perspective, it allowed them to obtain high-quality, vetted photos at a lower cost for smaller shoots, while for the photographer, it guaranteed a steady income during the contract period and provided additional earnings per shot.

It was a win-win arrangement.

Actually, it was even more advantageous for me when considering the intangible benefits—connections, reputation, and word of mouth—that would come with this contract.

As expected from a large company, the contract had no loopholes.

“How is it? Quite simple, right?”

After finishing her explanation, Editor Yoon Jung-ah looked at me and asked.

I nodded in agreement with her clear explanation but had a question of my own.

“What about the copyright?”

“Oh, by the way, do you have an agency, Woojin?”

An agency, simply put, is a company that handles business on behalf of someone. Think of it like advertising agencies or travel agencies.

In the case of artists like photographers, novelists, or painters, agencies take care of complicated matters like contracts or copyright issues, allowing the artist to focus solely on their work.

Since copyright is an important and often complex issue for photographers, Yoon Jung-ah seemed cautious with her words. Perhaps she thought this was too difficult a topic for a high school student.

But…

“I don’t have an agency. It’s fine, though. Please go ahead.”

I replied casually, reassuring her. As I mentioned before, I only started using an agency much later in my previous life. Before that, I handled all my contracts myself. I even became fairly familiar with the varying copyright laws in different countries.

I wasn’t sure exactly what the 2007 Korean copyright law looked like, but it was still better to discuss it than not at all.

“Oh… is that so?”

Surprised by my confident demeanor, Yoon Jung-ah hesitated for a moment before slowly beginning her explanation.

“Typically, the copyright remains with the photographer. In some cases, we acquire the copyright through ownership conditions or transfer agreements, but you wouldn’t want that, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Copyright is a natural right for creators, but there are instances, especially involving corporations, where the copyright is transferred to the company.

There are also cases where companies acquire copyrights through contracts, so the first thing to clarify when discussing copyright is who it belongs to.

“However, you can think of VOTUS as having ownership rights.”

“And what exactly are the boundaries of those ownership rights?”

“Hmm… I’m not a legal expert, but the ownership would allow us to use the photos for distribution and public broadcasting.”

As she finished her explanation, Yoon Jung-ah took a sip of water, probably to soothe her dry throat.

From what I heard, the contract didn’t seem to contain any harmful clauses. In fact, it was clean and well-organized—precisely the kind of thoroughness one would expect from a large company.

I continued reviewing the contract for a while. After some time, I felt a gaze and looked up to find Yoon Jung-ah quietly observing me.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She quickly shook her head, seemingly flustered.

“Oh, no. I was just going to ask something but decided against it.”

“What is it?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she finally spoke, glancing around as if unsure.

“You must get told a lot that you don’t seem like a high schooler, right?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t mean you look older or anything. It’s just that you seem so mature. The way you handle things is very different from any high school student I know.”

It appeared she was surprised by the way I was reviewing the contract. I was just doing what needed to be done, but reactions like hers sometimes made me wonder if I really did stand out that much.

I never intended to seem extraordinary, but it just happened that way.

I guess I’ll have to wait until I grow older to fit the part…

Noticing I didn’t respond, she looked a bit embarrassed and turned her attention back to the contract, pretending to review it.

“Ahem. That was a silly remark. Do you have any more questions? Shall we wrap things up?”

Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the awkward exchange, but as she said, the contract was good to go. We could deal with details like work schedules later.

“Since you mentioned you don’t have an ID on you right now, let’s proceed with a provisional contract. You can sign properly once you bring in your ID. Also, don’t forget to get consent from your legal guardian.”

“Got it.”

“Great work today, Woojin. I’ll see you again soon.”

With that, our conversation ended. After signing the contract, I finally stepped out of the studio.

From the early morning meeting to the photoshoot and the exclusive contract signing, it felt like the entire day had been spent. A slight wave of fatigue washed over me, as expected.

‘The weather’s nice.’

Despite spending so much time in the studio, the sky was still bright. It was, after all, July—the days were long. If it had been dark, I might have just gone home, but seeing the clear sky made me think I could still do something more.

‘The sun hasn’t set yet. Maybe I should stop by my studio…’

As much as I wanted to go home and rest after the lengthy shoot, I knew the value of time all too well. Without hesitation, I started walking.

Now that the work with VOTUS was done, I had only one task left: preparing for Photographer Jung Woong’s exhibition.

‘Do I have about three weeks left?’

Thinking about it, there wasn’t much time. The exhibition pieces would be finalized at least a week before the show, and I needed to present my work to Photographer Jung for approval, which meant I had to finish even earlier.

On top of that, the condition Jung Woong had set for me was to take photos he couldn’t take himself. Given how much thought and effort that required, the time I actually had was even less.

‘Let’s stay strong.’

I reaffirmed my determination.

No one striving for success had an easy journey.

My current fatigue was proof that I was on the right path.

I knew that overcoming this challenge would lead to something sweeter than anything else. And so, the emotion I felt before this daunting task wasn’t anxiety.

It was a fierce resolve.