Once during an afternoon trip to Miryang, Gyeongsangnam-do, I found myself photographing a small parking garage. When an older South Korean man came to get his motorbike, he casually asked my friend and me what we were doing there. I told him I liked old architecture and, in making small
Every Wednesday I teach at what must be one of the smallest public schools in South Korea: Anpyeong Middle School, home to just seven students. Seven students. That’s two 7th graders, three 8th graders, and two 9th graders. The school is set to close next year. Its closing represents
Sweat stains on an old pair of overalls, or sweat stains on a fine shirt. South Koreans call them both “salt flowers”: beautiful traces of hard labour. It is a symbol of labour’s immeasurable value, beyond the understanding of those who never work and sweat. Calling a sweat stain