It’s crunch time. Just weeks before the big year-end gallery opening, and I’m staring down the barrel of a creative drought. I’ve got projects stacking up, deadlines breathing down my neck, and nothing that screams “Ulsan.” The goal was simple enough on paper: capture the essence of the city. Easy to say. Hard as hell to do.
The gallery theme I gave my students was clear. Three photos. One for each element of Ulsan: Natural, Urban, and Industrial. The first two were simple. Beaches, mountains, city lights. That stuff practically takes itself. But the industrial side? That was the beast. The smoke and steel heartbeat of this place. The one part that refuses to be pretty, even when you beg it to.
The False Start
After a rough morning and too much coffee, I rolled out to Onsan, that massive petrochemical maze that smells like money and exhaustion. It used to be my playground back in the day. I figured maybe lightning would strike again.
The rain had other plans. It couldn’t make up its mind, and neither could I. I found one half-decent angle, but it just didn’t sing. The city didn’t feel alive through the lens. I wanted a photo that shouted, “This is Ulsan!” Instead, I had a few limp shots that whispered, “There’s a boat somewhere in there.”
That’s photography for you. You drag yourself through the grime, knowing you might come home empty-handed. Every missed shot digs a little deeper, but that’s part of the game. You’ve got to be stubborn enough to stay in it.
The Shift
Back home, frustrated, it hit me. I’d been telling my students about the Ulsan Daegyo Observatory. The view up there is insane. You can see the ocean, the factories, the whole industrial sprawl laid out like a map. That’s the spot, I thought. That’s where I’ll get my shot.
So I head out there, ready to redeem the day. I hike up the path, sweating through my jacket, only to be stopped cold by the staff. “No photography,” they said. Something about nearby companies complaining.
I pushed back. Not a full-blown argument, but I wasn’t giving up easy. I’d seen plenty of photos on Instagram. Koreans, foreigners, everyone. So what changed?
Their answer was simple and infuriating. “You can only see the view with your eyes.”
I almost laughed. That’s not how a photographer works. We see with cameras, not just eyes. But there’s no reasoning with bureaucracy. So I dropped it and looked for another way.
The Payoff
Down the road from the observatory, there was a small platform. Trees on one side, the water on the other. Through the branches, I spotted it. My shot.
I tried the 24-105mm first. Decent, but too safe. Then the 70-200mm. Closer, but still missing that punch. So I threw on the 2x extender. Boom. Suddenly it all came together. Layers of ocean, factories, and mountains stacking like chapters in a story.
Now it was just a waiting game. The sun started dropping, that golden light spilling across the smoke and haze. I worked the scene hard. Every angle, every flicker of light. Left, right, up, down. I wasn’t leaving until I had it.
When the sun hit just right, it all lined up. The sky exploded with orange, yellow, and blue. That’s when I knew. I got it. The shot I’d been chasing all damn day.
The Doubt
Back home, I loaded up the images. Immediately, the self-doubt kicked in. Dust on the sensor. Shaky frames. Focus misses. But then, buried in the batch, there it was. The one. Sharp, balanced, glowing.
I edited it my usual way. Bright colors, crisp details, a punch of contrast. The industrial side of Ulsan, finally nailed down. The photo I’d been hunting for weeks.
The Validation
A few days later, I was meeting with the printer and city officials. Out of all the photos laid out, the director’s eyes locked on mine. He leaned in, asked where it was taken, how I got it. He couldn’t believe it was from that weekend.
That’s the part that never gets old. When an image connects. When someone sees the story inside it. That’s the magic of this craft.
Because photography isn’t about pressing a button. It’s about wrestling with an idea until it gives in. It’s taking something half-formed and dragging it into the light. It’s chasing a vision through rain, red tape, and self-doubt until it finally looks back at you through the viewfinder and says, Yeah, this is it.
That’s why I do it. That’s why I keep going back out there.
Photo Title: Layers of Ulsan
Location: Near Ulsan Daegyo Observatory, Dong-gu
Gear: Canon EF70-200mm f/2.8L USM + 2x Extender, K&F Concept Carbon Fibre Tripod
Settings: 1/4 sec, f/13, ISO 400, Focal Length 210.0 mm
Mood: Grit and Gold