Jun Michael Park is a South Korean documentary photographer. Born in Seoul and educated in Canada, Jun has produced work for Greenpeace (Korea), Save the Children, Asia Society Korea Center and multiple media publications including the LA Times, Welt am Sonntag and the Korean Herald. Jun is currently working on a long term project documenting the fight for justice by the families of those who died in the Sewol ferry disaster in April 2014. We caught up with Jun via email to find out more about his project ‘Sewol: Landscapes of feigned ignorance.’

REP: Hi Jun, thanks for taking the time to answer our questions. We would like to focus on your work documenting the aftermath of the Sewol ferry disaster and the families’ fight for justice. You have been working on this project for over a year now. What were your expectations when you first started? Did you foresee it becoming a long-term project? If not, have you had to adapt how you work as time goes on?

JMP: At first, my plan was to follow the aftermath of the disaster until the first anniversary. I figured the government would have done its job investigating and punishing those responsible by then, and the families would have closure and go back to their normal lives. I was totally wrong in my estimation of how long it would take.

Although the first anniversary has passed, the official investigation has yet to begin. Once ordinary parents, their lives have since been turned upside-down, first by their children’s deaths and later by what they call the government’s inaction and foul play. They have frequently been out on the streets demonstrating and pressing for an independent inquiry into the government’s handling of the disaster, but their protests are now violently suppressed by the police. As they became more of a social activist group, my approach had to change and the theme of the project also changed. I am still uncomfortable seeing these parents in the context of protest and confrontation, but this is how the Sewol saga has unfolded.

REP: Can you say a little about your relationship with the families? The subject matter (the tragic death of hundreds of children) is very delicate and stirs up powerful emotions. How has this impacted your approach to photographing the families? Do you feel like a neutral observer or have you taken a side?

JMP: My relationship with the families is complicated. You may say that my position falls somewhere in the middle.

It was nearly impossible to raise a camera and photograph them in the beginning, because I felt like I was one of the vultures exploiting their suffering. But as their faces got literally blurred in the Korean news media, partly due to privacy concerns, and the number of the victims became quantified and became mere statistics, I felt their stories were becoming vague, distant, and hard to relate to. I thought it was imperative to put a human face on the tragedy, and that’s when I knew I really had to go deeper with the project.

It has been emotionally challenging, because the scope of the tragedy is so vast. When you walk into the official altar in Ansan [the town where the school the children attended is located], you just get overwhelmed by rows of funerary portraits and realize how many innocent lives perished due to layers of corruption and ineptitude.

It wasn’t easy building trust with the families who were already distrustful of anyone with a camera or associated with the press. Their relationship with the South Korean media started on the wrong foot, as journalists were being downright insensitive, rude and unethical in the initial stages of the sinking. I took time to get to know the parents one by one, then I got to know more about their deceased children. Of the 476 passengers on-board, 304 people died and 250 of the victims were high school students on a school field trip. Now there are about 150 parents who are actively protesting, and I would say about 100 of them recognize me, and I have built rapport with about 30 to 40.

While covering the disaster, I have been called an activist, and I have mixed feelings about that label. First, you have to understand the media landscape in South Korea. The top three conservative newspapers make up about 70% of the market share, and one of them is affiliated with Samsung through family ties. The South Korean president appoints the heads of the two public and one cable broadcasting companies, and their respective journalists’ unions have been busted for opposing the chairmen who were parachuted in. So, it is rather easy for the government to sway public opinion and deprive these already marginalized groups of balanced media coverage.

Second, while it is true that I am very much ‘involved’, I try to stay neutral in order to tell the story to a larger audience. Because of the subject matter and my experience over the past year, my photographs are naturally more personal and emotional, but I am very conscious about writing objective captions so as to provide a neutral context, especially when I’m filing pictures for a publication. I do get emotional and angry from time to time, because the degree of injustice the families are suffering is so grave, but I try to channel these emotions into my photographs.

REP: Your work on the Sewol disaster has been carried by a number of media outlets, including international ones. As a photojournalist do you see this as the end of your role (getting the story out there) or do you feel that there is more you can do (and your photos can do) in addressing this injustice?

JMP: While it is great that my work has been published internationally, locally my work has only been published on a small number of online platforms. Because I am freelance the market is small. South Korean publications have their own staff photojournalists and are inexperienced in working with freelancers. There is definitely more I can do to reach out to the local audience, and that’s one of the reasons why I am active on social media.

Although one year has passed, the Sewol saga is ongoing and has a long, winding path ahead. In South Korea, the issue has become politicized and has polarized the nation, and the families have suffered much injustice and indignity from the South Korean government and pro-government, rightwing groups. Unfortunately, as the public grows more apathetic towards the families, the degree of neglect by the government and the violent clampdown by the police has worsened. The treatment of the families by the government over the course of the past year has been close to a human rights crisis.

The suffering of others dissipates in the public consciousness sooner or later, and becomes hard to relate to. I’m looking for creative ways to document the families’ suffering and struggle in a more relevant way, engage viewers, and raise awareness on the issue and public safety. I admire the approach of Tim Matsui [winner of the 2015 World Press Photo Multimedia Contest Long Feature category] and I would very much like to see my work make an impact on how people think about the issue and ultimately bring about social change.

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You can see more of Jun Michael Park’s work at his website and on Instagram.

This interview originally appeared in The Rights Exposure Project on May 21, 2015.