Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
Korea's first shutterbugs: Camera shy in the 1880s
A photography studio in Seoul circa 1890s or early 1900s.
By Robert Neff
Kim Yong-won had a vision. Apparently, during his travels to Japan in 1876, he became infatuated with cameras.
This eventually led him to establish the first Korean photography studio in Seoul in late 1883. He was assisted by two Japanese photographers: Honda Shunosuke and possibly Kameya Teijiro.
We know little about this photography studio but apparently business was good; two other Koreans opened their own studios ― Chi Un-young, who studied photography in Japan, and Hwang Chol, who may have gained his expertise and equipment from China.
Korea at this time was a paradox of obsession with and fear of modernization and Western wonders. The primary patrons of these early photography studios were the younger and more progressive members of Joseon's upper society ― vanity was probably the main reason they paid for this costly service.
Lowell's iconic photograph of King Gojong, circa 1883-84.
King Gojong also had his picture taken. On March 16, 1884, Chi Un-young was granted the privilege of taking his monarch's portrait ― what became of the photographs is unknown. But was Chi the first one?
We know that Percival Lowell took several photographs of the monarch, the crown prince and several members of the Korean court during his stay in Seoul in the winter of 1883-84. Some of his photographs were later published in his book and many unpublished ones can be found in various archives.
The more conservative members of the Korean court and many of the superstitious common people viewed this modern technology with suspicion. Rumors soon circulated in the streets about the nefarious activities of not only the Japanese photographers but the Koreans as well.
Lowell's photograph of the staff of the Foreign Office, circa 1883-84.
Hwang Chol enjoyed taking pictures of landmarks and scenery but this practice came to an end when rumors circulated that trees soon withered and died after he photographed them. When group photographs were taken, it was alleged that the person in the center would be the first to die ― perhaps his living essence was sucked away by the power of the camera.
Hwang's studio was soon vandalized and he was arrested and accused of revealing national secrets to the Japanese and other foreigners. He apparently spent some time in the jail before finally being released. He was lucky.
Shortly after he was released, Seoul erupted in violence during the Gapsin Coup. The photography studios ― along with other modernizations ― were destroyed by mobs of angry Korean conservatives and even some Chinese nationals. The three Korean photographers managed to escape the city but the Japanese weren't as lucky.
Lowell's photograph of the scenery around the old palace, circa 1883-84.
The English-language newspaper North China Herald described the fate of one unnamed photographer (possibly Honda Shunosuke):
“The Japanese photographer was absent from home on business on the 6th, and was never seen afterwards. He was probably killed when trying to reach home. In the evening, some Chinese (not soldiers) broke into his house and his wife was raped by ten men. They were then going to kill the children, when another Chinaman came in and stopped them, and took them to his house. They were brought under a Chinese military escort, the next morning, to the U.S. Legation. They are now in Japan.”
Within a week, peace was restored to the capital but for several years the art of photography was dead in Korea, except in the hands of foreigners.