When the Ancient Meets the Artificial
These days, Korea is saturated with festivals. There’s always something glowing, popping, or blasting EDM in a park somewhere. But when word got out that lasers, projections, and holograms were about to light up Tongdosa Temple, I couldn’t ignore it. This isn’t just any temple. Tongdosa is one of Korea’s Three Jewels of Buddhism — ancient, sacred, and heavy with history. I’ve been photographing this place for nearly twenty years. It’s like visiting an old friend who’s survived centuries of chaos with nothing but grace and stone.
This year’s event is part of the National Heritage Media Art Exhibition, carrying the theme “The Light of Prose: Encountering Relationships in the Garden of the Heart.” It’s a poetic title for a show that throws light, sound, and digital storytelling onto a thousand years of Buddhist craftsmanship. The idea is simple — use modern tech to breathe new life into old stones. Let the light remind people that these places aren’t relics; they’re living, breathing veins of Korean culture.
The Rain, the Road, and the Rush
The first night got washed out. The second wasn’t much better, but the temple was open, and that’s all I needed. Traffic was brutal, parking a disaster, but that’s part of the deal. You park far away, curse your luck, and walk the last few hundred meters in the dark. It’s not romantic — it’s persistence.
By the time I reached the entrance road, the air was alive. People shuffled forward, umbrellas glistening in the drizzle, and there it was — a beam of electric blue laser light cutting through the darkness like some portal to another world. The stone pillars of Tongdosa glowed as if pulled from another era, the hum of machinery meeting the whisper of centuries-old pines. The crowd gasped, phones went up, and for a second, it all made sense — the old and the new colliding in perfect chaos.
The Feast of Light
The temple path, usually quiet and blanketed in fallen leaves, had become a corridor of color and movement. Buddhist patterns were projected onto hanging cloth, shifting with every breath of wind. The trees themselves were painted in light, glowing like living sculptures. This wasn’t some tourist-trap sideshow — it was crafted, intentional, beautiful.
As I reached the main gate, the story began. A projection unfolded across the temple walls, narrating the history of Tongdosa through waves of light and sound. It was hypnotic, spiritual even. I lifted my camera and waited for that perfect frame, but as soon as I did, someone’s phone rose up in front of my lens. Again. And again. Welcome to modern photography — a war zone of elbows, phones, and accidental cameos.
Still, I got my shots. Sometimes you just have to flow with it, breathe through the frustration, and find your moment between the chaos.
Photo Tip: Shoot in the Between Moments
In events like this, the magic isn’t just in the show — it’s in the seconds between. The flicker before the projection changes, the light hitting the stone in a way it wasn’t supposed to. Set your ISO low, open your aperture wide, and wait for that pause between frames. That’s where the story hides.
Bodies, Bruises, and Bad Manners
The first major show was held near the museum — a dance of light, music, and a solo performer moving like liquid through the glow. The crowd pushed and folded into itself, a human tide of spectators. Chairs scraped, whispers collided, and everyone wanted that perfect angle.
When it ended, the herd surged forward. That’s when it happened — one of those stroller-wielding parents who believe the world parts for them cut across the crowd, clipping me hard. I dodged, stepped into a drainage gutter, and slammed my shin into the edge. Pain shot up my leg, and a string of words that would’ve made a monk blush came spilling out. She looked stunned, muttered something, and rolled on. I limped forward, bleeding, half-cursing, half-laughing. A nice little souvenir from the night.
Light, Ego, and the Flashlight Guy
Up near the main temple grounds, I found a rhythm again — until a guy with a press badge decided to turn the place into his personal light show. Every time I lifted my camera, he flicked on a flashlight, washing out the scene. I asked him to stop. He smirked and said, “I’m not a normal photographer.” No kidding. His friend told him to knock it off, but the damage was done.
Here’s the thing — any decent photographer knows you don’t need a flashlight to find your controls. You feel your camera; you read the light. But this guy was using it to block others from getting their shot. Petty, childish stuff. I told him off, my Korean falling out of my mouth like alphabet soup. He played dumb. Classic move. But he knew. Oh, he knew.
Photo Tip: Respect the Frame
When shooting at shared events, remember that the frame isn’t yours alone. Be aware of other photographers. Don’t blast flashlights, don’t hog the tripod space, and don’t be that person who waves a phone in front of everyone’s shot. Patience and respect are as essential as aperture and ISO.
Fog, Faith, and the Final Frame
Later, the fog rolled in, thick and cinematic. The lights turned the mist into something straight out of a dream — or a cyberpunk movie set in a monastery. The air smelled of rain and incense, and the temple shimmered under the weight of it all.
That’s when I got the shots I came for. The blend of chaos and calm, of ancient stone and fleeting light. The kind of images that feel like they’ve always existed — you just had to be there to see them.
When I finally limped back to my SUV, shin bleeding through my jeans, I was smiling. The night had taken its pound of flesh, but it gave back something better — a story, a handful of frames, and a reminder that beauty doesn’t owe you comfort.
Photo Tip: Let the Light Lead
In low-light festivals like this, let the light itself dictate your settings. Drop your shutter speed, lean into the motion blur, and trust the colors. Perfection isn’t the goal — honesty is. The blur, the grain, the noise — that’s the heartbeat of the scene. Don’t clean it up too much or you’ll lose its soul.
The Takeaway
Events like the Tongdosa Media Art Festival remind me why I still drag my camera through the rain. They show that heritage doesn’t have to stay in the dark — it can burn bright, evolve, and still keep its soul intact. For a few hours, this temple became a living bridge between centuries.
If you’re in Yangsan, make the trip. The show runs nightly from 7 to 9 p.m. through October 29, and there’s nothing quite like seeing one of Korea’s oldest temples dressed in light and fog.
Bring your camera, your patience, and maybe a first-aid kit.