Return of the Genius Photographer

When had he wanted to become a comedian? Or rather, when had he actually become one?

Yoo Dong-gyu had been pondering these thoughts frequently lately.

At first, he simply enjoyed seeing people laugh.

Watching the smiles of people who were happy because of his wit and jokes gave him a warm feeling inside.

The job of a comedian, where he could see those bright smiles every day, felt like his true calling.

Perhaps that’s why his life as a comedian had been quite successful.

He had succeeded in doing what he loved most, what he wanted to do the most.

He had been truly happy and thought that this happiness would last forever.

But life isn’t that easy. Even the brightest success casts shadows.

The light of his success had brought him wealth and fame, but it had also taken away his laughter. Since then, he hadn’t truly laughed.

It started with mere fatigue. Then came lethargy and a lack of motivation. He realized much later that what he was dealing with was depression.

After finishing work and returning home, he was left with a deep sense of emptiness. He no longer felt the warmth in his heart when he saw people smile. He was just mechanically making others laugh.

Even after realizing that his emptiness was due to depression, nothing changed.

It was only then that Yoo Dong-gyu understood. He had spent his whole life making others laugh, but there was no one who could make him laugh.

That’s why he decided to take a break from all activities for a while.

—Hello, this is VOTUS. We’d like to do an interview with Comedian Yoo Dong-gyu.

When he received the call from VOTUS, he intended to decline.

—We’d like to talk about the hardships of being a comedian.

That phrase stuck with him, so he agreed to the interview. After all, he had wanted to talk about the struggles of being a comedian.

But the interview ended up being disappointing. The content aside, every photo taken of him showed him smiling. As if comedians never had any sadness.

How could this convey the hardships of being a comedian? It only made him a laughingstock.

Yoo Dong-gyu hated that.

While comedians bring joy to others, it doesn’t mean their job is to be taken lightly.

His smiling face felt like it was mocking himself.

But after showing the world his smiling face for so long, showing a sad expression was incredibly difficult for him.

He didn’t want to take more smiling photos, but he also didn’t want to show a sad face.

No photo seemed right to him, and he didn’t even know what kind of picture would satisfy him.

That was Yoo Dong-gyu’s current state of mind.

And yet, despite keeping these feelings hidden for so long, the young photographer he had never met before had somehow struck a chord in him.

The young man told him a story that seemed to peer right into his soul, a story about a clown who couldn’t receive help from anyone.

It was a story that echoed his own, where he couldn’t cry and could only make others laugh.

The deep empathy he felt, confronting such raw emotions for the first time, left Yoo Dong-gyu with no choice but to cry. He couldn’t stop.

He kept crying and crying.

And Woojin watched him with a serious expression.

“Uh… Photographer?”

“Why is Yoo Dong-gyu suddenly…?”

“How did Photographer Nam Woojin know…?”

The sudden outpouring of tears from Yoo Dong-gyu left the studio in confusion. The staff, unable to understand how a man who had been so curt just moments ago could now be crying, were flustered and unsure of what to do.

“Just a moment. Stay still. Stay quiet.”

But it was Woojin who calmed everyone down.

With a calm tone, Woojin reassured the people in the studio. His composure was almost as if he had anticipated this very moment.

“Just wait a little. He needs some time.”

With his quiet yet charismatic presence, the staff nodded and quietly stepped back.

And in the now-silent studio, Woojin watched Yoo Dong-gyu as he wept alone.

Though he wasn’t holding a camera, it felt as if he was capturing every moment with his eyes, the light in them shining as if he were taking a photograph.

*

“Sorry… I suddenly got overwhelmed with emotion.”

Who knows how much time had passed.

After crying for quite a while, Yoo Dong-gyu finally pulled himself together, wiping away his tears and speaking to me.

“This is embarrassing. It’s the first time I’ve cried like this.”

He awkwardly scratched the back of his head, clearly feeling a bit shy.

I responded calmly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“It’s alright. You seemed deeply immersed in the story. If you need more time to gather yourself, I can wait.”

“No, it’s fine. I cried enough to feel better, though it’s a little embarrassing. But why did you share that story with me?”

He waved off my offer and immediately asked what had been on his mind.

The studio atmosphere had grown unsettled after his sudden outburst of tears, but since it had been my story that triggered his emotions, it made sense he was curious.

“I just wanted to share it.”

“Just?”

“Yes. The story I told you felt like it reflected what you’re going through right now.”

“…”

“The earlier photos all showed you with a bright smile.”

The first thing I had done upon arriving here was to review the photos from the previous shoot. They were all meticulously captured shots of Yoo Dong-gyu. From what I could see, there wasn’t anything wrong with them. So, if there was an issue, I figured it must be something personal.

“But if none of them felt right to you, I thought maybe you didn’t like seeing yourself smiling.”

Yoo Dong-gyu listened intently, a serious expression on his face, just like when he had first heard the story.

“To me, it seemed like you wanted to express sadness but didn’t know how. That’s what made me think of the story of the clown.”

“Hah…”

When I finished speaking, Yoo Dong-gyu let out a small sigh.

“You’re right. That’s exactly what my life has been like…”

He continued, his expression now one of relief, like someone who had just gotten rid of a long-aching tooth.

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to make others laugh.”

He stared off into the distance, as though reflecting on something far away.

“Every single day, I thought about how to make people laugh.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“But ironically, I’ve never known how to make myself laugh.”

He spoke about his past, his tone filled with contemplation.

“So, yes. I know exactly how that clown felt, better than anyone. Because I am that clown.”

There were no more barriers between us. The mask of dissatisfaction he had worn had crumbled away, and his once curt tone had softened.

I couldn’t help but think that this was the real Yoo Dong-gyu.

“Thanks to you, I’ve come to realize that. I’m truly grateful.”

There was no forced smile on his face, nor any sadness he was trying to hide.

He was simply revealing his true self, exactly as he was.

It was then that I finally picked up my camera.

Because right before me was the moment I had been waiting for.

“I simply told a story. So, shall we start the shoot?”

I asked Yoo Dong-gyu respectfully. Now, I was certain I could capture the photo he had been longing for.

“As I mentioned earlier, if there’s any specific image you want, I’ll do my best to match it.”

Yoo Dong-gyu looked at me intently.

“No. I feel like I don’t need to worry about it with you behind the camera. Just… I don’t want to look too silly or too sad.”

With a trustful demeanor, he made his request: not too comical, but not too sorrowful either.

If I had heard that at the beginning, I might have found it puzzling. But now, I understood exactly what he meant. We both did.

So, I smiled brightly and replied.

“That’s exactly the kind of photo I wanted to take.”

I would capture him just as he was.

I raised my camera and brought the viewfinder to my eye. In the frame was Yoo Dong-gyu, sitting on the sofa and calmly looking at me. This was the expression I had been waiting for all along.

As I adjusted the composition and focused on his face, I pressed the shutter without hesitation.

—Click!

—Click!

—Click!

The sound of the shutter echoed through the studio, capturing Yoo Dong-gyu’s face on camera.

His eyes were still slightly red from crying just moments ago.

—Click!

There was a hint of sadness in his gaze.

—Click!

Yet, at the same time, the corners of his mouth naturally lifted, reflecting his role as a comedian.

—Click!

The wrinkles around his eyes.

—Click!

The expression I captured was a strange blend of both laughter and sadness.

Yoo Dong-gyu’s request was simple: he didn’t want to look sad or silly.

So, I focused on capturing the comedian’s serious side without letting the emotions in the photos tilt too much one way or the other.

I took his photos exactly as he was, showing his authentic self. This was how he wanted to present himself to the world, and it was the honest image of a comedian that he needed to reveal to his audience.

As the photos piled up, they quickly appeared on the monitor.

Pictures of a serious comedian, void of any forced smiles, filled the screen. They depicted a noble professional, whose job was to bring happiness to others.

“Wow…”

“How in the world did he capture those shots?”

“I’ve never been so impressed by interview photos before.”

People in the studio were murmuring in awe, while Editor Yoon Jung-ah felt goosebumps rise on her arms.

‘What on earth did he say to make Yoo Dong-gyu so compliant?’

What was happening before her eyes seemed unbelievable, especially considering the difficulties they had faced with previous shoots.

This was already the third reshoot.

Just the mention of a reshoot was enough to fill her with dread.

‘This can’t be happening… I never knew he could smile like that.’

Yoo Dong-gyu’s natural smile during the shoot with Woojin left her deep in thought.

This wasn’t the Yoo Dong-gyu she knew.

The Yoo Dong-gyu she was familiar with would have stopped the shoot to review the photos and likely rejected them for not being to his liking.

There had even been an incident last time when he argued with the photographer to the point that the photographer refused to continue.

As a result, other photographers didn’t want to take the job, and that’s how they eventually ended up with Woojin.

Yoon Jung-ah had gone through so much stress because of it.

When she initially handed the project to Woojin, she had been filled with anxiety. She acknowledged Woojin’s talent, but she was worried about how he’d handle such a difficult celebrity.

She had called him in with the intention of guiding him through the process while keeping him as far away from Yoo Dong-gyu as possible.

That had been the plan.

But from the very beginning, things had been strange.

When they arrived, Woojin had been the one to initiate the conversation with Yoo Dong-gyu. And then, something he said made Yoo Dong-gyu break down into tears.

Soon after, the two seemed to have grown close, and now here they were, having this pleasant, light-hearted shoot.

What on earth had she gone through all that trouble for?

Things were going smoothly, which she appreciated, but at the same time, she felt a strange unease. She was deeply confused by what she was witnessing.

‘Who is he, really?’

Caught in the whirlwind of the situation, Yoon Jung-ah found herself staring at Woojin.

A person who always managed to exceed her expectations.

That was the image she had of him.