First Steps in a Foreign Land and the Memories Held in Old Photographs

First Steps in a Foreign Land and the Memories Held in Old Photographs

We accumulate countless digital photographs, but in ordinary days there is rarely enough space in life to pull out those older images. Yet when a moment comes that requires me to return to an earlier time, I often set aside a quiet hour and look through them.

I move through them with a mix of emotions — regret, longing, affection, sorrow, and gratitude — feeling all of it at once.

I found an old photograph of my first son when he was very young. He is pictured with his closest friends, and the image shows how much joy they shared together, as well as how bittersweet their parting must have felt before we moved to the United States. The photo was taken as a keepsake just before our departure.
Yulian, a Russian boy, was my son’s best friend. He often came to our home, and my son often visited his. Their grandmother and mother were close with me as well. Yulian played the piano beautifully.

This photograph was taken in Germany, during a small recital we held with Korean friends we met at a Korean church there. We gathered in a quiet French village, in a house donated by an artist as a gallery space, and created a modest performance together. When living abroad, Koreans often feel even closer to one another. For reasons I cannot fully explain, we met in a faraway country, bound by a sense of shared circumstance.
Some of those relationships have continued beautifully to this day, while others have naturally drifted apart. There are always reasons, and at times, there may be none at all. Looking back, I blame no one. Life in a foreign land keeps everyone on edge, always in survival mode. People become cautious with one another, and even so, conflicts can still arise—because everyone is trying, everyone is tired, and everyone is lonely. I experienced such moments both in Germany and in the United States. There were things I could not understand at the time, yet with distance, even those become memories.
Just as I keep the photographs taken with people I could not fully understand, holding onto them out of gratitude rather than erasing them, I hope they, too, might feel the same. And among the many photos, there are also those who offered me endless kindness, care, and encouragement. For them, I am always grateful—only sorry that I did not express that gratitude more often.

In the photo is Wei, a Chinese sculptor with whom I often exhibited my work. She is an exceptionally talented artist, as well as a remarkable and strong mother. Through her, I came to learn more about China and gain a deeper understanding of its culture. She continues to live and work in Germany, carrying forward her artistic life with the same dedication and strength.

This photograph was taken in front of the first apartment I found in Germany. At that time, nearly eighty percent of people lived in rental housing, and buildings like this were shared by several families. The apartment was quiet and clean, with a sense of order that I still remember.
The owners of my unit were a German couple: the wife, originally from Poland, and her husband, an American. I plan to write more about them later, because the kindness they showed to someone far from home was extraordinary—far more generous than I could have ever expected. I carry deep gratitude for them in my heart to this day.

This photograph was taken when I first arrived in Germany. It was January 2006, and since it was winter, snow was falling. Looking at this picture brings back the emotions I felt at that time. Curiously, when I look through old photos, I often struggle to remember the exact places or the food I ate. But the feelings from those moments remain vivid and precise.
Whenever I revisit those memories, I remind myself to live each moment with more joy. Because the photos taken during times when I was sad, wounded, or living in darkness still carry the weight of that pain even now. I often wonder how different those memories might have been if my heart had been lighter then.