'Seoul Punx' captures counterculture of yesteryear

Korean punks gather for a group photo in Hondae Playground in this undated photo. Jung You-jin, the author of the photo book "Seoul Punx," is third from the right. / Courtesy of Jung You-jin

By Jon Dunbar

Shortly after the hashtag “#seoulpunx” appeared on social media, news broke this was a preview for an upcoming photo book. The book by cartoonist Jung You-jin came out on Oct. 27 with a release party at Club Steel Face that reunited many familiar punks from the past 13 years.

In going over this book, of which only 500 copies have been printed, I reflect on the cultural value of this book, as well as what makes a photo and a photographer “good” and also my own memories of the time.

I was here at the same time as You-jin, also taking pictures, often of the same events, bands and people. But You-jin mostly kept hers to herself and her close friends, until now, giving a private, intimate look of this counterculture, which came to Korea barely over two decades ago.

“Seoul Punx” is like a yearbook to those of us who were there, but a challenging read to outsiders due to lack of captions.

“When you got too much things to say, that makes you shut up,” You-jin explained the choice in an interview.

Her pictures reveal a cohesive era, roughly from 2003 to 2009, when Seoul’s punk scene found a comfortable place, maintained some consistency, then broke apart. In those days the scene revolved around Skunk Hell, a dingy basement venue located near Hongik University, at the time the nexus of Korean indie music.

Skunk Hell was under control of streetpunk band Rux frontman Won Jong-hee, who carried the punk scene on his shoulders in those days. His bloodied face graces the front cover of this book, which You-jin told me was the night of a big fight where he rescued his friend from a gang-beating by foreigners.

“He insisted he has something inside of his nostril after he got punched a long time ago and it makes him bleed easily,” she explained.

A few more figures stand out too. Shorty Cat, the best-known all-girl punk band of the time, appears in many photos. Also prominent is the Patients, which at the time had a female drummer, Doq-suun. Later, she married and moved to Australia ― and the band, though much changed, is now making a name for itself with its unique “hybrid punk” sound.

The book lays out a narrative, starting with some establishing shots of our home base at Skunk Hell, before embarking on adventures across the country, overseas, even into bed. There is a full chapter titled “Sleep,” although the sleeping pictures are from all over and the bed pictures generally aren’t of people sleeping. Full disclosure: no nudity is seen but some pictures look like they’d be of interest to divorce lawyers.

When asked if she had any concerns her pictures could get people in trouble today, such as pictures of couples that broke up and moved on, she answered, “What can I do? I mean just look at the pictures and people’s faces in there. It’s too beautiful to throw away.”

She admits she has received complaints for some of the pictures, which is understandable as some of the Korean punks really don’t like to be photographed unprepared. Her portraits are often intimate and silly, capturing spontaneous moments.

She opted for using small digital cameras for her shots, saying “I don’t like big cameras ― it makes people aware too much.”

What makes her photography so compelling is not fancy equipment or sophisticated skills ― it’s the access she had, getting right up close and shooting subjects that trust her. Equipment can be bought and skills can be learned, but her talent is innate.

Her best pictures are portraits in everyday settings, while her concert shots are dirty and muddied with color and motion blur. But even those pictures nail the chaos of Skunk shows from within the crowd, capturing the energy and motion of the mosh pit and the humidity from their perspiration.

Other chapters show Korean bands touring China and Japan, and You-jin’s own time spent in Australia.

The book concludes with a chapter titled “Time Goes By,” showing how people have grown up: many punk babies are seen, as well as people who’ve gone to jail and those who’ve found success (with some overlap), and pictures of Skunk Hell’s new location in Mullae-dong.

The scene has changed so much, and this book serves as a time capsule from an era deserving of fond remembrance. In the days of “Seoul Punx,” everyone was united under one roof, not scattered across the city and divided into subgenres. Fashion was bolder and brighter but tattoos less prominent. Many of the punks have since married and had babies, but I’m certain the punk spirit still burns strong in almost all of them.

“Buy my book,” You-jin said. “It captures the last generation of punx who didn’t have smartphones or Instagram.”

Visit facebook.com/Seoulpunx for more about the book.