Time in Their Eyes: Turkish Korean War Veterans Through the Lens
- Ece Yıldırım
- 4 Tem
- 6 dakikada okunur
While accompanying the photo sessions with Korean War veterans, I had the chance to witness a project that was both deeply personal and historically meaningful. The photographer Shin Jung-hwan approached each veteran not just as a subject, but as a person with a long, full life behind their eyes.
In this short interview, we talked about the motivation behind the project, the emotions felt during the sessions, and what it means to remember—through photography—those who fought far from home, decades ago. The interview was conducted after the Korean War veterans' photo shoot at the Sirkeci Veterans Association on 21st June 2025, in Istanbul, Türkiye.
Could you please introduce yourself as Shin Jung-hwan? How did your journey with photography begin?
Hello. I'm Shin Jung-hwan. I came to Paris, France, in 2002 to study and have since been working in the fields of fashion and photography. I first became interested in photography in the early 2000s, when digital cameras began to gain popularity. Although I had used film cameras as a child, the cost of film and developing was burdensome, so I couldn't use them often. With digital cameras, I could take hundreds of photos without worrying about the cost, and once I bought my first digital camera during my university years, I began taking photographs with great passion.
What themes have you mainly focused on in your photography so far?
Working in the fashion industry naturally led me to shoot fashion editorials. At the same time, I’ve also been deeply interested in street documentary photography, especially capturing the everyday life of the city, mainly in Paris. Rather than focusing on nature, I prefer to document urban life—streets, scenes, and people.
How did the idea of creating a photo project with Korean War veterans come about?
I’ve always hoped that my photography could contribute, even in a small way, to society. In Korea, many photographers volunteer to take portrait photos of the elderly for their memorials. I, too, had always wanted to do something similar. One day, I came across a video by photographer Rami about his project photographing Korean War veterans, and it deeply moved me. That video inspired me to start documenting the veterans living in France. Most of these veterans are now over 90 years old, and I felt a strong sense of urgency—if not now, we may lose the opportunity forever. That sense of duty led me to organize two exhibitions at the Korean Cultural Center in France in 2022 and 2023. Unfortunately, since then, two of the veterans I photographed have passed away, which has only strengthened my resolve to continue documenting these remarkable lives before it’s too late.
What did it feel like to photograph these veterans 75 years after the Korean War?
Since all my grandparents on both sides of my family have passed away, I rarely have the chance to spend time with elderly people. Living in France, where I have no family ties, makes such encounters even rarer. When visiting the veterans' homes, I noticed that many of them live alone or just with their spouse, often feeling isolated. They told me how much it meant to have someone visit and talk with them, and I would spend hours listening to their vivid memories of the Korean War. Whenever they said, “The Korean War is a forgotten war, and we are forgotten soldiers,” it broke my heart. That sentiment made me even more determined to preserve their stories through my work.
Could you share the most memorable or moving moment you experienced during the shoot?
One of the most unforgettable moments was meeting Mr. André Datcharry, a veteran living more than two hours outside of Paris. After a long conversation, I asked if he had any photos from the war. To my surprise, he showed me not black-and-white, but color photographs he had taken in Korea around 1953–54. He had somehow managed to obtain precious color film at the time and shot the photos himself. Even more astonishing, he still had the original film negatives. He kindly lent them to me, and I brought them to Paris to scan at high resolution. The photographs were displayed in large format at the Korean Cultural Center exhibition. It was the first time these images, which had been tucked away in a drawer for decades, were shown to the world. The photos had both artistic and historical value, and I later learned that Mr. Datcharry had painted a lot in his youth. That’s likely why the composition and perspective of his photos were so unique. It was truly like discovering a hidden treasure.
You’ve been working with Korean War veterans in France for a long time. What was it like to meet and photograph veterans in Türkiye? How did cultural differences influence your work?
Türkiye sent approximately 22,000 troops to the Korean War—far more than France’s 3,500. This is why Koreans often refer to Türkiye as a “brother country.” I had high expectations and assumed many Turkish veterans were still alive, but I was saddened to learn that only around 50 are still living. What struck me during the photo sessions wasn’t the cultural differences between France and Türkiye, but the shared humanity. The hearing loss, the slow speech patterns, the pride in having served—these were common traits among elderly veterans regardless of nationality. This project was made possible with the tremendous help of the Korean War Veterans Memorial Association in Türkiye and the Korean National Unification Advisory Council in Türkiye, and I am deeply grateful for their support.
You usually prefer to photograph the veterans in black and white. Could you share the aesthetic or emotional reasoning behind this choice?
Since I shoot with exhibitions in mind, maintaining a consistent tone across the series is essential. Color photos vary greatly depending on lighting, location, weather, and background, making it difficult to achieve visual coherence. Black and white, on the other hand, helps emphasize the essence—the facial expressions, wrinkles, and eyes. I chose black and white to capture the depth of these individuals’ lives and emotions as honestly and sincerely as possible.
Your photos seem to capture not just faces, but entire life stories. How much can a face truly tell? What emotions or traces did you try to capture most in the veterans’ expressions?
When people think of portraits of war veterans, they often imagine images that emphasize dignity through military uniforms. But before portraying them as soldiers, I wanted to capture their lives as individuals—human beings who have lived long, full lives. In the faces of those who have lived for over 90 years, you can see the full weight of time. Every wrinkle, scar, and glint in their eyes tells a story. I used a single light source to emphasize contrasts in light and shadow, so that both their joys and sorrows, strength and vulnerability, could be conveyed together in the image.
Are you considering turning this project into an exhibition in Türkiye, France, or other countries?
Abroad in Korea, the United States, and across Asia, many photographers are already actively working on similar projects. I chose to focus on regions that have received relatively less attention, specifically Europe and Türkiye. The most challenging part is scheduling with the veterans. Many have limited mobility and difficulty hearing, making phone communication and coordination quite difficult. In France, I can speak directly with them in French, since I live here. But in Türkiye, it would have been nearly impossible without the help of Korean contacts. Fortunately, in Istanbul, four veterans were able to come to the memorial center for the photo shoot. However, I heard that many others were not able to travel. This visit made me even more determined to document more of them. Even if I have to use my vacation days, I would like to return to Istanbul and photograph as many as I can—one more face, one more story.
Is there a message you hope to deliver to viewers through this project?
“Even if the world appears to be at peace, the moment we forget the memory of war, that peace can become endangered.” (天下雖安 忘戰必危)We must not forget that the peace we enjoy today is built upon the sacrifices of veterans who risked their lives in a distant foreign land.
This photography project goes beyond simple documentation. It is a work that asks how we, living in this present era, should remember and respect the existence and sacrifices of the war veterans who are still among us.
Peace is never a given. If, through the faces of those who made that precious value possible, many people can once again reflect on the responsibility of remembrance, then as an artist, there could be no greater reward.
We will not forget the hearts of those who crossed great distances and fought for peace in a foreign land.We offer our sincere gratitude for the courage and sacrifice held in their quiet gaze.
Some projects are about the image. This one was about presence. In a time when peace is often taken for granted, these portraits—and the stories behind them—ask us to remember. And as I watched this work take shape, I was reminded: photography can be quiet, but it can also carry the weight of gratitude. I thank Shin Jung-hwan for this interview.
This interview was conducted when they came to the photoshoot for the Korean war veterans, 21st June 2025, Istanbul, Türkiye.
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