Swan Moon’s cinematic portrait of growing up Korean in ’90s Los Angeles

Coming of age in 1980s Los Angeles, Swan Moon would disappear into a large closet in her bedroom where a trove of old family photographs were held. Their names and identities were a mystery, for her parents never spoke of their lives in South Korea. ​“My paternal grandfather lost everything in the war,” Moon says. ​“He survived because he spoke English and spent a lot of time in hotels, acting as a translator and guide for Americans. He decided to come here and eventually everyone followed.” 

The Moons owned and operated an auto parts store, buying a house in Mt. Olympus, an exclusive neighbourhood nestled in the Hollywood Hills. ​“I spent a ton of time investigating the family photo albums and rolls of 16mm film that I would unravel,” Moon remembers. ​“My parents were working all the time, so I had zero context for anything I found and had to figure everything out on my own.” 

Like many a latch-key kid, Moon intuitively understood the DIY ethos; if she did not do it, it would not be done. At eight years old, she got her first camera and instinctively began crafting a landscape of self. In a culture where the rare depiction of East and Southeast Asian women invariably pandered to Western stereotypes, Moon used photography to explore identity on her own terms. 

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“I was incredibly confused at a very young age as to who I was and what I was doing here in Los Angeles. I wasn’t seeing myself reflected in the world, and it became clear I was going to have to make my own pictures,” Moon says. ​“Taking photos, developing and printing them, all of that takes time. [Being in the darkroom] is a meditative experience. You’re solitary and quiet, doing a lot of looking and investigating and for me, that was a wonderful phase to ponder and figure things out.” 

With the publication of Swan Moon’s Swan Moon (TBW Books), Moon now returns to where it all began, creating an intimate visual diary of her formative years in ​’90s LA. The book brings together a dazzling array of black and white self-portraits, photos of friends, still lifes, landscapes, and exteriors that recall the mystery and majesty of 1940s film noir. 

Moon’s photographs evoke a sense of ​“placelessness” integral to Los Angeles writ large, a city where pedestrian culture does not exist outside tourist traps on Hollywood Boulevard. ​“I didn’t have a car,” she says. ​“I took a bus and would walk for hours and hours, and honestly, it really hasn’t changed. But the one thing you discover while walking the city is there’s such an eclectic array of architectural history that you’ve experienced through TV and movies. It came natural to me to utilise these spaces as my own personal set for making images.” 

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On the cusp of a new millennium, Moon turned away from the promise of progress and looked to the past to understand where the future was headed. She studied photography at CalArts, only to discover the faculty struggled with her visionary practice. ​“There was a huge generation and culture gap, and the conversations needed to bridge that gap felt too vulnerable,” Moon says. ​“People are incredibly open now and every voice can be heard; that just did not exist. I had to do my own thing and live a kind of double life to preserve [my vision].” 

Three decades after that work began, Moon has come full circle. ​“People’s reactions now are so incredibly different from when I initially made it that it’s almost shocking,” she says. ​“I’m pinching myself every five minutes, wondering if I’m dreaming.” 

Swan Moon’s Swan Moon is published by TBW Books.

Miss Rosen is a freelance arts and photography writer, follow her on X.

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