Taking a strong picture

“To photograph is to frame, and to frame is to exclude,” wrote Susan Sontag, a renowned American art critic. What is the definition of a good, authentic photo that offers comfort to people? I’m still not sure how I can take a good picture.

Sung Ji-wonThe author is a political news reporter of the JoongAng Ilbo.

When I had only recently become a reporter, the best way to take a picture was a subject of discussion among my colleagues. My fellow reporters and I were rushed to sites and we had to use pictures we hectically took to write our stories.

Sometimes, a photo was stronger than a 10-line paragraph. An unposed picture showing the real scene of an incident or rally brings about change. We used to check out each other’s photos, asking which angle was better or if the photo was too dark. We’ve since learned that we should take pictures horizontally with our smartphone, and we should get closer rather than zooming in. I once used a low-quality photo and one of my senior reporters asked whether it was an original picture. So I immediately bought a new phone that weekend. I was motivated and passionate.

However, I failed to learn how to take a good picture in some scenes, even though I tried my best. Those were mostly scenes where someone is crying. People were crying because they lost their home, someone passed away, or they were in an unfair situation. I could not grab my camera and fix the angle to shoot them, pretending to be a third person of their sadness. I understood that someone needs to frame their sadness and show it to the world. Still, I could not help but hesitate, muttering to myself “Could this picture even make anything better in this world? Is it possible?”

I once covered a murder case of a guard working at an apartment building. I visited one of the victim’s colleagues and resolved to take his picture. But he refused to have his picture taken or do an interview, and just quietly waved his hand. Late at night, he came to me and handed me a banana, saying, “It must be a long day for you.” I could not get a picture for my article that day. The only comfort I had was the hope that I wouldn't have to write about anything like that ever again.

A bundle of photos of Kim Keon-hee, President Yoon’s wife, have drawn attention since last month. On Nov. 2, the Presidential Office released some pictures of her hugging family members of victims of the Itaewon disaster and comforting them at the funeral. On Nov. 10, there were pictures of Kim crying and offering condolences to a victim’s family members, who made the decision to donate their son’s organs, who had been doing his military service and was pronounced brain-dead after the incident. On Nov. 12, the office released some pictures showing Kim holding a young boy with a congenital heart defect and comforting him and his family.

The pictures were good, insofar as her facial expressions were captured well. Still, no one knows what the release of those photos means to the victims’ families and the boy.

“To photograph is to frame, and to frame is to exclude,” wrote Susan Sontag, a renowned American art critic.

Behind the photos released on Nov. 2 and 10 is the irresponsibility of the government. And the ones made public on Nov. 12 shows that Kim’s promises made during the presidential campaign are empty words. She said she would limit her role to her house back then, when she became the subject of criticism.

What is the definition of a good, authentic photo that offers comfort to people? I’m still not sure how I can take a good picture.

BY SUNG JI-WON [sung.jiwon@joongang.co.kr]