There’s a restless energy that pulsates from the work of Korean photographer Jung Ye-Jin. Whether it be the trails of streaking light slicing across her compositions, the stacked exposures and crystal prisms refracting human faces into dizzying formations, or the uncomfortably up-close portraits of individuals staring into the camera—her images all demand a valuable commodity: the viewers’ undivided attention.
躁动不安，大概可以用来形容韩国摄影师丁藝振（ Jung Ye-Jin） 的作品。无论是切割画面的光束轨迹、层叠的多重曝光、用棱镜将人脸折射成令人眼花缭乱的形态，再到直视镜头的人物近距离特写，她的照片有着一种独特的吸引力，令人难以移开目光。
Jung has little regard for the conventional rules of photography, that much is clear. Even on Instagram, rather than a meticulously curated feed of beautiful, planned images, her feed is a hectic scramble of jarring reds, abstract textures, and flash-lit patches of bare skin. But this indifference to perfection is precisely what makes her work so interesting, even to Korean celebrities such as Gikwang, Hyolyn, and Sunmi, who’ve all appeared under her lens.
丁藝振对传统的摄影规则从不关心，即便在她自己的 Instagram 账号上，她也从不对图片进行用心的排版和布局，相反，她让整个页面充斥刺目、混乱的红色、以及抽象纹理和闪光灯下的裸露肌肤。而这种不追求完美的风格反倒让她的作品变得更为有趣，更吸引了一众韩星成为她镜头下的模特，这其中就包括了李起光、孝琳和宣美等公众人物。
Whether on a subconscious level or not, Jung distills the imperfections and impulsive exuberance of youthhood in her work. Flaws are embraced, celebrated even, and it’s these flaws that infuse her images with such a human quality. There’s a sense of authenticity to all of her shots. From poses to lighting, everything feels like it was decided only moments before the shutter was pressed. It’s raw, unpremeditated, and candidly evocative.
Jung’s photos most often feature friends, and they’re often scantily clad or entirely without clothing. In one shot, a nude girl stands knee-deep in a pond. Behind her, expansive darkness seems to stretch ad infinitum. She glances back at the camera, as if inviting the viewer to enter the void with her. In another image, a milky liquid dripping across entangled, tough-to-identify body parts feels borderline obscene—though there’s nothing indecent appearing in the frame. Her art is designed to be suggestive and ambiguous, keeping audiences guessing as to what’s happening just outside their field of vision.
On some of her images, Jung does apply post-production, but not in the conventional sense—none of it is done digitally. She might embroider patterns atop a film print, drop them into a filled tub of water, or simply slice them up and overlay them atop of each—shooting a new photo of the results. No matter the technique, working hands-on with the image remains an important part of her creative process. She believes that, in the digital-media deluge of our tech age, the tactility of an image is too often overlooked.
A renegade through and through, Jung is someone who lives and makes art by her own rules and whims. In her work, there is no right and wrong. Nailing the focus and compositional guidelines are afterthoughts at best. What matters the most is the vibe that she wants to freeze-frame in a particular moment. While this results in a body of work that seems fragmented at first glance, the visual mayhem is deliberately executed. In Jung’s case, there isa clear method to the madness.