Photographer Eijiro Hamada first encountered Guryong Village (:구룡마을), a shanty town in Seoul, during the Pandemic when he saw amateur footage reporting on this obscure, rarely seen enclave of the global megacity. “The village that was introduced was a maze of shanties and unpaved roads interwoven with nature,” Hameda tells Dazed. Formed of makeshift dwellings with few amenities, powered by an elaborate latticework of cables syphoning power from the grid, Guryong Village is a hidden and endangered community. “Guryong Village does not exist on any map in South Korea. You won’t find it digitally on Google Maps either,” Hamada, a Japanese-American photographer, currently based in Tokyo, says. “It is occupied by squatters and is located on land that was privately owned and then transferred to the government. Some residents have been living there for as long as 40 years, enough time for generations to have been raised there.”

Struck by the gratuitousness and lack of empathy in the footage he saw, Hamada felt drawn to visit the village himself, not only to re-centre its residents as the narrators of their own story, but to immortalise their world, which, however imperfect, was threatened by its value to developers looking to speculate on the land. “The video emphasised the horrifying poverty of the location without considering that actual living people occupied the homes and lanes surrounding him. The piece was for pure shock value and views,” he explains. “I was upset upon seeing this because these people were stripped of their humanity by an ignorant outsider, and I decided that if I had the opportunity, I would visit this place myself one day.” This is how his photo series, The Rookery, was born. 

“Guryong Village does not exist on any map in South Korea. You won’t find it digitally on Google Maps either” – Eijiro Hamada

Located in the affluent Gangnam area of Seoul, the mass of improvised dwellings that make up Guryong Village are situated in striking proximity to the city’s luxury shopping district and futuristic architecture. Its origin story and continued presence are reminders of how unevenly modernity touches the landscape (and our lives), as well as the profound inequalities on which capitalism is predicated. “There are various reports on when and how the village first sprang up; some say it emerged in the aftermath of the Korean War, while others say that it was a result of the financially turbulent 1980s,” Hamada tells Dazed. “However, those whom I have personally spoken to have set the beginnings of Guryong to the years leading up to the preparation for the 1988 Seoul Summer Olympics.” Construction labourers flooded into the area to work on sites at various venues. Wages were low, and accommodation was expensive. “Workers had nowhere to stay, so they pitched tents and lived in the rough without electricity or indoor plumbing. Others flocked to the village to stay after being displaced from housing during the financial shocks and bankruptcies of the 80s. The exact population is unknown and has fluctuated over time, but it is said to have had as many as 8,000 people living there at one time.” 

Exploring Guryong Village, Hamada observed how the community has organised itself as a self-functioning microcosm. “Each of the eight districts seems to have its own uses and affiliations. For example, District Two is the restaurant area. Over the years, there were also other facilities such as a post office, a kindergarten, a bathhouse, a traditional apothecary, and churches, as well as utility services like electricity, gas, and water in some locations,” he says. “I saw areas where land is used to grow food crops and keep livestock. There are even public restrooms, makeshift street lights, and district community centres. At its height, this was a fully functioning off-grid community in a metropolis. Most of the residents living there now are elderly, but there are still families with young children or young adults.”  

On his many visits to document the village, he encountered a range of issues that required his utmost sensitivity as an image-maker. “There are many difficulties when it comes to taking pictures in Guryong,” he shares. “The size of the land and the maze-like, narrow alleys make it almost impossible to navigate with any surety of direction. Language has also proven to be a barrier with residents, and I have had to bring a translator on many occasions.” Another important issue was assuring the residents of his intentions. “Gaining the trust of villagers is a process of visiting often so they get used to seeing you and your equipment, and conversing with those willing to talk while respecting their privacy and desire for solitude. I always ask residents for permission when taking their portraits. Many elderly people in the area live alone and are more than happy to share a little of their time during my visits. I have listened to many interesting life stories over cups of coffee and tea throughout all the seasons of the year. I remember to bring souvenirs from my home country when I visit, and even try to feed the domesticated pets that have lost their owners due to illness or relocation. The animals remember me just as well as the humans!”

Respecting the anonymity of those villagers who wish to retain it has also been a concern. Living outside the system marks them out for potential discrimination and even possibly criminalisation. “Since the residents live in the village illegally as squatters, they do not have official residency documents, unless they are registered to another address outside of the community,” he says. “Without an official address, it is difficult to have bank accounts, register for school, or participate in government services for the less fortunate.” 

Despite being a non-resident, Hamada has approached making The Rookery with the integrity and awareness he felt was lacking in the original documentary he first saw about the area. “Korean culture and Japanese culture are not so different when it comes to respect for the aged and the infirm,” he explains. “Not being Korean or living in the village marks me as an outsider. Telling a story is not any harder being an outsider, but one has to recognise that some stories can be shared, while others should be respected secrets kept between people who have had the fortune to meet and exchange discourse.”  

Ultimately, the story of Guryong Village is important because, once demolished, over four decades of an undocumented people’s history will be erased. With his project, The Rookery, Hamada wants to preserve the memory of this community. “How they lived, what they valued, what they endured, and their camaraderie will disappear forever, and the next generation will not understand what has been paved over,” he tells Dazed. “The village will be replaced by shiny, tall buildings and high-end infrastructure. Guryong is a part of the history of the economic crisis and political turmoil that plagued South Korea from the 1980s. It was a haven on the undeveloped outskirts of Seoul that predated the existence of the Gangnam of the rich and famous of the present day.” 

Eijiro Hamada’s The Rookery received the inaugural KYOTOGRAPHIE x Dazed Award at KYOTOGRAPHIE International Photograpahy Festival 2026.