Return of the Genius Photographer

‘Amazing,’ thought Jung Woong as he brushed away the goosebumps that had risen on his arms after looking through Woojin’s photos.

Woojin had captured images of ordinary people living in Queensland.

A young couple at a gas station.

A construction worker in his uniform.

A boy joyfully riding a surfboard, and the elderly woman watching him from a distance.

People sitting peacefully on the beach, enjoying their time.

These were scenes of ordinary life—nothing out of the ordinary. Just people one might encounter any day.

Yet in Woojin’s photos, these ordinary individuals wore radiant smiles, as if they alone were illuminated, as if to say that true happiness lies in the simplicity of everyday life.

Despite the lack of any particularly advanced technique, the photos were strangely captivating.

Jung Woong found himself so immersed in the images that he went through every single one without a second thought. Only afterward did a question arise in his mind.

‘How can he take photos like this?’

He examined the pictures more slowly, his expression growing serious.

The photos were simple, unembellished, and conveyed what the photographer intended without any exaggeration. While they were undoubtedly beautiful, what Jung Woong felt was a vague sense of unease.

‘They’re too clean. There’s not a single unnecessary element.’

There’s an old saying in photography: Photography is the art of subtraction.

All photographers hear this at some point.

To take a good photo, remove anything unnecessary from the frame and focus solely on the subject you want to capture. Yet, for a photographer to truly understand and apply this principle often takes many years. That’s because this approach conflicts with a photographer’s innate desire to capture something special.

Those who take photography seriously, who treat it as their profession, always carry the desire to shoot extraordinary pictures—photos that no one else can take, photos that only they can show. It’s a kind of obsession, driven by a sense of duty or pride in their craft. The younger or more ambitious the photographer, the stronger this tendency often becomes.

But that obsession frequently leads to the inclusion of unnecessary elements in a photo—over-editing, awkward compositions, distortions of the subject driven by vanity or arrogance. The ability to subtract those things and capture only what’s essential, the purest expression of the moment, is what separates a professional photographer from an amateur, or so Jung Woong believed.

However, that logic didn’t seem to apply to Woojin. Despite being the youngest and most ambitious photographer Jung Woong knew, Woojin’s photos were restrained and elegant, reminiscent of the work of seasoned professionals. Though not flashy, they carried a subtle yet profound emotional impact. The essence of the photographer’s message seemed to be perfectly condensed in each shot.

‘Is it really possible that someone who’s only been taking photos for less than a year could create work like this?’

Jung Woong had talked with Woojin extensively since the young man joined the studio, so he knew that Woojin had been taking pictures for less than a year—no, not even six months. The fact that he could produce such images was truly astonishing.

It was a remarkable talent.

‘No… can this even be called talent?’

In competitions or exhibitions, such results might be credited to talent. But to create photos of this caliber in a single day, and so spontaneously, should only be possible after years of experience and practice.

Yet, for lack of a better word, Jung Woong had no choice but to call it talent. He even felt a strange sense of unease regarding Nam Woojin, as what seemed impossible by normal standards was unfolding right before him.

‘Moreover, the way he treats his subjects…’

Jung Woong’s hand stopped as he flipped through the photos. He paused at an image of a young couple embracing at a shabby gas station.

‘This must have been taken while I stepped away,’ he thought, gazing at the photo.

The gas station was grimy and covered in dust, a place that seemed unwelcoming at best. A typical photographer might have focused on the struggles or loneliness of those living in such conditions.

But in Woojin’s photo, the couple smiled warmly at the camera, radiating happiness, as if poverty had nothing to do with them.

The photo captured the couple’s honest, unfiltered expressions, without any distortion or negativity. It was as though the photographer cherished his subjects, treating them with care and respect, and that sentiment came through even in the photograph, warming the viewer’s heart.

It was at that moment that Woojin stirred.

“Photographer Jung Woong…?” Woojin mumbled, slowly waking up from where he had been slumped over next to the laptop. His voice was groggy, his eyes half-closed from sleep.

“You’re awake.”

“I must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for the photos to upload. Did you need something?” Woojin asked, rubbing his eyes.

“No, I was just going to tell you to go rest in your room.”

“Alright… I’ll do that.”

Still half-asleep, Woojin shuffled off to his room, leaving Jung Woong deep in thought.

On the surface, Woojin seemed like any other high school student. Yet, when it came to his photography, the image of a seasoned professional came to mind. The more Jung Woong learned about Nam Woojin, the more intrigued he became.

There were so many things he wanted to ask Woojin, but he decided to save those questions for another time.

***

As morning came, the sun rose unfailingly. By the time the soft morning light filled the hotel room, we had already gotten up early to meet the client.

“Jung Woong! I’ve missed you!”

“Haha, how have you been?”

Upon arriving at the designated meeting place, a tall Caucasian woman approached Jung Woong with a warm hug and greeting.

“I’ve been waiting for the exhibition to end so you could take my photos!”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

Jung Woong responded smoothly in fluent English. It was clear that this woman was today’s client. Though her face was hidden behind sunglasses, her tall, well-proportioned figure and the aura she exuded, even in casual clothes, suggested she wasn’t just any ordinary person.

“And who’s this?”

After chatting with Jung Woong for a while, the woman turned her attention to me.

“Hello, I’m Nam Woojin, assisting with the shoot today.”

“Oh! Is that so? I’m Natalie.”

She raised her sunglasses onto her head and extended her hand to me. As I shook her hand and met her gaze, it became clear—just as Jung Woong had implied—who she was and what today’s shoot was about.

Natalie Mae Kerr.

She was a Hollywood actress, famous enough that her name was well-known even in Korea.

If I remembered correctly, she had recently starred in a major film as the lead actress. Her soft features, despite being a foreigner, made her incredibly popular in Korea. She didn’t seem to mind the attention either, frequently appearing on Korean variety shows, which only increased her reputation as a friendly, Korea-loving star.

No wonder she had such a commanding presence, even in casual attire.

I had heard rumors that she was preparing a personal photo shoot, but I hadn’t expected her to hire Jung Woong for it.

“As you might’ve heard, I’m working on a personal photo book. We’re in the final stages, and I wanted to include some photos taken by Photographer Jung.”

Natalie began to explain the details of the shoot: the purpose, the kind of images she wanted, and the outfits she’d be wearing.

Most of it had already been discussed, so it was more of a recap, but I listened intently, mentally noting everything she said.

Once the briefing ended, we wasted no time and set off on the journey to begin the shoot.

―Click!

Natalie strolled leisurely along the vast, open beach. The cool breeze from the ocean blew her golden hair into the air, and she closed her eyes, savoring the wind as she gently swept a hand across her forehead.

―Click!

Jung Woong captured the moment quickly—the refreshing expression on her face, her hair flowing naturally in the wind. He was always careful, yet quick enough not to miss the perfect moment. That’s how I’d come to know his style of photography.

Today’s shoot was close to what could be called candid photography. In Korea, this would later become known as “snap photography”—capturing natural moments without staging. Normally, candid photos limit any kind of direction to preserve authenticity, but since this was for a photo book, it was more accurate to call it a candid-style shoot within the framework of a planned session.

Just as he had mentioned before, Jung Woong photographed Natalie as they moved northward along the coastline of the Sunshine Coast.

Natalie, who was clearly comfortable in front of the camera, naturally created moments as if she were acting. Jung Woong never missed a beat, snapping photos at just the right time when her natural charm was at its peak.

The combination of a seasoned photographer and a camera-savvy actress was impressive to watch—almost envy-inducing.

But today, I was simply assisting Jung Woong with the shoot, so I had to stay focused on my role.

I quietly set up the equipment, making sure not to disturb Jung Woong’s focus.

Outdoor shoots naturally limit the amount of gear you can bring along—only the essentials, or items that are easy to carry. If we were in Korea or working on a larger-scale shoot, we could have loaded everything onto a truck. But that wasn’t an option now.

In this case, making the most of the equipment on hand was key to capturing great candid shots. My job as an assistant was to manage this limited set of tools effectively.

While Jung Woong was completely immersed in the shoot, I watched him carefully and began to imagine what he might need next.

What equipment would enhance the quality of the shoot?

What lens would I choose?

What about the reflector, lighting, or tripod?

I pictured myself as if I were the one behind the camera, planning every detail. I pulled out the tools I imagined would be necessary and placed them beside Jung Woong.

He glanced at me, eyes wide in surprise, as he picked up the lens I had prepared.

*

‘Did he read my mind?’

Jung Woong wondered, astonished that the lens Woojin chose was exactly the one he had been about to switch to.

Despite having worked with many assistants in the past, this was the first time something like this had happened.

‘Or was it just a coincidence?’

Finding his composure again, he brushed it off as a lucky guess and continued the shoot. Yet, as time went on, it became clear that this wasn’t mere coincidence.

Without a word, Woojin turned on the lighting right at the moment it was needed. When he hesitated over whether to use the tripod, Woojin had already set it up for him.

‘How can he be so sharp?’

Jung Woong could no longer chalk it up to chance. He was genuinely impressed by how seamlessly Woojin anticipated his needs. Yet, the same unsettling feeling he’d experienced when viewing Woojin’s photographs the day before began to creep in again.

‘Can this be called talent?’

The question lingered in his mind, causing him to momentarily lose focus on the shoot. It wasn’t just talent—there was something deeper, something that couldn’t easily be explained. It was as if Woojin moved in sync with him, without needing instructions.

Rather than raw talent, it felt more like the intuition and insight of someone who had accumulated years of experience.

‘That’s it,’ he thought, snapping his fingers in realization.

For the first time, he began to understand the source of his strange feeling.

Despite being only eighteen, Woojin displayed the qualities of a fully developed professional photographer.

In fact, Jung Woong couldn’t shake the sensation that, somewhere deep down, he was starting to see Woojin not as his student, but as a fellow photographer.