Return of the Genius Photographer

I arrived at Jung Woong’s studio early, taking the first train of the day.

It was so early that even the receptionist, who usually greets people every morning, hadn’t shown up yet.

The reason for my rush was to complete the final touches on the exhibition photo.

‘Just the final touches, then I can show him.’

With only about a week left until Jung Woong’s exhibition, I had taken longer than expected to gather the necessary photos.

Thankfully, the diligent efforts of the assistant photographers had helped me collect everything I needed, and now only the final steps remained.

I was hoping to finish it by the end of the day.

‘No, perhaps I should finish this by morning.’

I was eager to show Jung Woong the completed work, especially after he had patiently waited for so long.

Once I entered the workspace, I immediately checked my project—a mosaic portrait of Jung Woong.

There were still a few missing sections, but the overall picture already radiated the charm I’d envisioned.

It had taken the longest time of any recent project, but the results were worth it. I couldn’t help but wonder how he would react.

‘Let’s get this done.’

I turned on the computer and displayed the mosaic image of Jung Woong on the screen. Unlike the incomplete version on the wall, this digital version was fully assembled. Using it as a reference, I began attaching the printed photographs, one by one, to the wall.

These were the precious shots taken by those who admired and respected him.

As I filled in the remaining gaps, the image of Jung Woong’s face became even more vivid, glowing with intensity.

The mosaic was now complete.

Just then, I heard some noise outside the studio.

“Wow… Is that really made of all the pictures we took?”

“Can’t you see for yourself?”

“But still, I can’t believe it.”

The assistants had arrived.

Peeking in through the small window in the door, they were trying to catch a glimpse of the finished work.

Seeing their large frames pressed against the window made me smile.

“Were you waiting outside for long? Come in.”

I opened the door, and the three assistants stepped in, eyes wide with awe.

“Our Woojin’s a genius!” said Youngsoo, who was the most casual with me.

“Youngsoo, show some respect,” scolded Jinsoo, the oldest, who always maintained formalities despite our growing familiarity.

Minsoo, who still seemed a bit awkward around me since our first encounter, added quietly, “Woojin… your photos are amazing…”

Each of them expressed their amazement as they stepped into the studio, admiring the mosaic on the wall.

“So, are we going to show this to Jung Woong now?”

“Should we bring him here?”

“I always felt guilty just taking photos without much explanation, so I’m glad we’re finally done.”

They were all eager to present the finished work to him, and I understood. It must have been a relief after working so hard on the project while feeling uncertain.

But I shook my head in response.

“No, there’s one more thing left.”

Though the mosaic was finished, something essential was still missing. I took out a photo from my bag. It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a simple shot of Jung Woong. However, it was unique in that one side showed his saddest expression, while the other side captured his brightest smile. I carefully placed the photo on the desk, facing the mosaic.

This was the final piece of my project—the last puzzle piece—and it carried the message I wanted to convey to him.

Every photographer, at some point, faces moments of doubt.

Moments when they don’t know what to capture.

Moments when every photo feels like garbage.

Moments when the expectations of others become an unbearable weight.

Moments when all the photos taken feel meaningless.

These moments crush photographers, break them, and eventually, leave them in despair.

No matter how hard they fight, they sometimes can’t escape that pressure.

Maybe, as Jung Woong said, life really is pain.

But.

Just because you’ve lost your way doesn’t mean the path you walked is meaningless.

The person you are today is born from the struggles of your past.

We have our photos, don’t we?

Even if they seem insignificant, they are never meaningless.

Because they are you.

So believe in yourself.

And smile.

Even when the burden tightens around your throat,

Even when your inspiration runs dry,

Even when you’ve lost your direction.

Only you understand the value of your efforts.

The portrait of Jung Woong that I placed on the desk now gazed at the mosaic on the wall, filled with various expressions of himself.

It stared back at all the different parts of him, through the brightest eyes.

I hope.

I hope that, just like in my previous life, he will become someone who transcends his pain, who shines.

This is the message I’m sending to Jung Woong.

And this is my answer to the theme of Retrospection.

With that, my work was complete.

I couldn’t wait to see how he would react.

***

“Ha ha ha ha!”

Jung Woong, who had just entered Woojin’s studio, suddenly burst out laughing.

As he alternated between examining the mosaic portrait and the framed photograph on the desk, his laughter filled the small studio space.

However, despite the booming laughter, he didn’t offer any further comments, which made everyone but Woojin start to feel a bit uneasy.

After all, they had never shown their work to Jung Woong before, nor had they ever received feedback from him. Not to mention, seeing him laugh so freely was a rare sight.

The assistants waited in confusion, unsure of how to interpret Jung Woong’s reaction. But when he finally stopped laughing, he reverted to his usual composed demeanor and began asking questions unrelated to the photos.

“Do you plan on setting it up like this for the exhibition?”

“Yes,” Woojin responded.

“A mosaic portrait with a self-facing photo… You’ll need a large space.”

“A stand will suffice; it doesn’t require much room.”

“I see. The photo mosaic offers a dynamic viewing experience, so I’m sure the audience will love it.”

As Woojin and Jung Woong exchanged these practical discussions, the assistants exchanged puzzled glances. They wondered why the focus wasn’t on the photos they had worked so hard on.

Eventually, Youngsoo couldn’t hold back any longer and asked, “Sir… What did you think of our photos?”

Jung Woong looked at Youngsoo as if it were a silly question and replied, “Why even ask? Your names will be featured in the exhibition, so if you have any other opinions, speak up.”

“What?”

The words came as a surprise to the assistants.

“I’m planning to display your work in the center of the exhibition.”

Jung Woong gently stroked the frame containing his portrait, his tone matter-of-fact, as if this decision was obvious. But Woojin, too, was taken by surprise.

*

“In the center of the exhibition?”

An exhibition is designed to showcase various works of art—photos, paintings, artifacts—presenting them in a way that allows viewers to appreciate them fully. While all pieces are meant to be noticed, there are always key spots in an exhibition that draw the most attention, much like the lead role in a play compared to supporting characters.

These prime spots—usually at the entrance, center, or end—are reserved for the most important works, either by the artist’s choice or the curator’s design.

And now, Jung Woong was telling me that my work would be placed in one of those coveted spots.

“But isn’t this your exhibition?” I asked.

“Exactly. It’s my exhibition, so I do as I please. You don’t like the idea?”

There was no way I didn’t like it.

“Your work is meant to be viewed from both sides, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Then the center is perfect. Honestly, if it weren’t so large, I would have placed it right at the entrance for the audience to see first.”

I bowed my head to Jung Woong in gratitude.

The photos I had prepared were a result of the conversation we had shared. I had only thought about how to meet his expectations, not about gaining anything for myself from his exhibition.

But now, with his offer to showcase my work in such a prominent spot, I realized this would be an incredible opportunity to leave a lasting impression on the exhibition’s attendees.

“It’s your concept, so I’ll ensure it stands out from the rest,” Jung Woong added, his mind clearly filled with ideas on how to present my work.

“Oh, and about your photos,” he continued. “Have you decided on an edition or a price?”

“Pardon?”

“I doubt people will line up to buy a photo that’s full of my face, but what will you do if someone wants to purchase it at the exhibition?”

Oh, right… I had almost forgotten about that.

At prestigious exhibitions like this, there’s often an opportunity to sell the displayed works.

Pricing varies widely based on the artist’s reputation and the artwork’s significance.

For photographs, in particular, due to the ease of replication, many photographers opt for limited editions to maintain the value of the pieces sold.

“I’ll offer five copies at three million won each,” I answered without hesitation.

“Noted.”

Although I hadn’t given it much thought before, this decision wasn’t too difficult to make.

Five copies at three million won per piece.

If they all sold, that would amount to fifteen million won—a hefty sum, comparable to the prize money from a major contest.

Of course, I intended to share any earnings with the assistants who helped me, but the mere idea of making such an unexpected amount lifted my spirits.

Jung Woong’s casual response indicated that he wasn’t particularly concerned.

However, considering his level of fame, my pricing was probably on the lower end compared to the rest of the exhibition.

I was suddenly struck by just how prominent a figure he was, and in contrast, how far I still had to go.

Yet, despite that realization, I didn’t feel rushed.

My growth had been rapid so far, and I was confident it would continue.

All I needed to do was keep pushing forward, like a bull charging ahead.

The upcoming exhibition now held a new sense of excitement for me.