An Interview With:
Sim Kyu Dong
Sim Kyu Dong
The Korean Photographer Showcasing the Reality of Seoul Living.
Sim Kyu Dong, a South Korean artist born in Gangneung, initially pursued a career in nursing before shifting to photography, a medium that allows him to explore and express his profound curiosity about the world. After completing his military service and developing a growing interest in photography, Dong found in this art form a way to confront and understand life’s truths without the constraints of conventional paths.
Dong’s notable work includes a compelling series on Goshiwons, the small, affordable housing units prevalent in Seoul. This project emerged from his personal experience of living in these spaces while working as a wedding photographer. The stark contrast between the affluent environments he encountered in his professional life and the modest Goshiwons he inhabited sparked his interest in documenting these unique living conditions. Through his lens, Dong sought to highlight the lives within these confined spaces, aiming to capture the delicate balance between adversity and contentment. His approach, which often involves overhead perspectives, strives to present an unbiased view of the residents' daily experiences, emphasizing the nuances of their existence.
Dong’s ongoing project, focusing on single-person households, reflects his deepening exploration of personal and social identity. Having spent much of his life in his family home, Dong’s move to Seoul and subsequent return highlighted the changing dynamics within his own family and the broader societal shifts affecting individuals. This project delves into the essence of living alone, aiming to reveal the unique stories and personal spaces of individuals from diverse backgrounds. By capturing the intimate details of single-person households, Dong hopes to challenge perceptions and foster a greater understanding of personal identity amidst broader social issues.
901: Can you tell us a bit about your background and how you became interested in photography?
Sim Kyu Dong: I majored in nursing in South Korea, but I didn’t become a nurse. After taking a break from school and completing my military service, I developed an interest in photography. Ever since I was young, I would constantly wonder, “What is the world?” This curiosity led me to have a deep interest in science, mythology, religion, film, and literature. During my time in the military, my fascination with the truth of the world reached its peak, and I started feeling a strong resistance toward living a conventional life—getting a regular job and following the set path. In the midst of this, photography stood out to me because it captures things as they are, without feeling like someone’s fabricated claim. Photographing real moments, which could be interpreted in so many ways, became a tool for me to find meaning in life.
Many people first became aware of your work when you were documenting Goshiwons. What drew you to document Goshiwons specifically? Was there a particular event or experience that sparked your interest?
There were many factors that led me to decide to photograph Goshiwons. I was born and raised in Gangneung, a small city in South Korea. I wanted to have various experiences in Seoul, and every time I went, I stayed in Goshiwons for a few months. After graduating from university, I developed an interest in photography and got a job at a wedding studio in Apgujeong, Seoul. This meant I needed to find another Goshiwon to live in, and as I was looking for a very cheap one, I came across a place that left a strong impression on me when I visited. I didn’t end up renting that place, but I lived in another Goshiwon near the wedding studio while working as a wedding photographer.
While shooting weddings, I interacted with wealthy people, walked through affluent neighborhoods, and then returned to my small Goshiwon to sleep. I started to feel a sense of disillusionment and sadness about capitalism and the growing wealth gap. I realized that no matter how many years I worked for my salary, I wouldn’t be able to buy an apartment in Seoul or open my own studio. So, I began to think that if I remained unmarried and lived alone, even a Goshiwon could seem like a decent option. I recalled the Goshiwon in Sillim-dong, where I had once seen people who weren’t just staying temporarily but had been living there for a long time.
At that time, I was 30 years old. For about a year, I took photos of Goshiwons while reflecting on my future. I started this project with the intention of raising awareness about Goshiwons as a new form of housing. Eventually, I quit the wedding studio, moved into a Goshiwon in Sillim-dong, and began photographing it in earnest.
How did you approach capturing the essence of life within Goshiwons? What themes or messages were you hoping to convey through your work?
As I mentioned earlier, I've been contemplating the essence of life since childhood. When I was working on the Goshiwon project, I believed that the essence of life constantly changes depending on the era and culture, so it was impossible to come to a single conclusion. (I no longer think that way now.) Because of that, I hoped my photos could be open to a wide range of interpretations. To some, life in a Goshiwon might seem miserable and tough, while to others, it might appear abundant and enviable. I wanted my work to sit on that fine line between joy and sorrow. That’s why I photographed the Goshiwons from an overhead perspective—to remove as much of my own viewpoint as possible. I tried hard to become similar to and close with the people living there, and I made sure the process of photographing was as similar to their experience as possible.
I don't approach photography to impose my message, but rather to offer something for people to think about. If, through that process, I can explore life and contribute something meaningful to the world, then I continue taking photos. Through the Goshiwon project, I hoped to show that Goshiwons are not just for students cramming for exams, but a place where people live as a form of housing. Simply making that known to the world, helping to ease the sense of deprivation I felt back in Apgujeong, was enough for me.
What was the most memorable moment or image you captured during your time documenting Goshiwons?
There were many incidents and accidents in the Goshiwon, so the police were often called. One day, I opened my door and looked down the hallway, and my eyes met with a police officer who had arrived. The way he looked at me was full of disdain, as if thinking, "One day, you'll cause trouble too." In that moment, the distinction I had in my mind—that I was a photographer there to document the Goshiwon, different from those who lived there—crumbled. To outsiders, I was just another person living in the Goshiwon. That's when I started taking self-portraits in earnest.
Could you share the inspiration behind your recent single-person household project? What motivated you to start this work?
I’ve lived with my parents my entire life, never having moved out, and I always craved a space of my own. When I temporarily moved to Seoul and lived in a Goshiwon, that space became special to me, and I captured it through photography, which led to my first exhibition. But when I returned to my hometown, things had changed significantly. The physical space was the same, but now I was in my mid-thirties, and my parents were aging into their senior years. The atmosphere felt different. It was as if various social issues—generation gaps, wealth inequality, marriage, low birth rates, aging populations, and urban concentration—were playing out in my own home. I felt a strong desire to become independent, even if it was difficult. I also grew curious about people around me who already lived on their own, and that’s how I started the single-person household project.
Most people think of themselves as ordinary, but in reality, no one is truly ordinary. In fact, the more "normal" a scene appears, the more precious it becomes. A person’s living space, filled with their own personal tastes, reveals so much about them. I feel that when people marry and form two-person households, these individual traits often fade away. If a husband and wife could see how each lived during their single days, they might think, "So this is who they really are," leading to greater understanding and potentially reducing conflict between couples. The essence of my single-person household project lies in this—moving from "This is how they live" to "This is who they are," and finally, "So that’s why." I hope that the social issues I felt at home are, through the lens of these diverse single-person households, filled with warmth.
Are there any specific single-person households you’d like to photograph?
I see the single-person household project as a long-term endeavour. I want to photograph a diverse range of people in the future—men and women, young and old, wealthy and poor, from various regions and living situations. What I fear most is that my work might unintentionally classify people into a certain "type." That fear has made it difficult to start new projects. When I worked on the Goshiwon series, I felt that I didn’t quite succeed in capturing the full range of people living there. I didn’t want the photos to suggest that "people who live in Goshiwons are like this," but I worried that the work might have ended up conveying that anyway.
I found inspiration in the work of German photographer August Sander, who photographed people from many different professions. Sander aimed to capture as many people as possible, and I believe that’s where the solution lies. By photographing a wide range of individuals, I hope to avoid categorizing people into fixed types. That’s why I view this project as a long-term one.
Are there any future projects or themes you are interested in exploring next? Will you continue to focus on similar subjects or take a different direction?
I start a photography project when my personal interests align with broader social issues. Currently, I'm interested in exploring the living conditions of migrant workers. I want to capture images that can be interpreted across a wide spectrum of perspectives, showing both extremes. Ultimately, through my work, I hope to uncover and understand the truth of life, which I believe always leads back to love.