Final Reflection: The Invisible Weight of the Image

Looking for a flow

My time in Munich started with a simple curiosity about “flow.” From the industrial fires of my hometown, Ulsan, to the fast-paced energy of Seoul, I’ve always been obsessed with how things connect. Over the past semester, this blog has been my personal record of those links—whether I was looking at radio studio walls, the “active neutrality” of science, or the “dream-break” of a young nurse.

As I pack my bags to leave this “Media Hub,” the recent tax controversy in Korea has given me a final, heavy puzzle to solve. It’s forced me to rethink everything I’ve learned about the images we consume and the real world hiding behind them.

Reliability over Popularity

One of my biggest “aha!” moments happened at Bayerischer Rundfunk (BR) and Süddeutsche Zeitung (SZ). In Korea, I was used to media that screams for attention—”visible radio” and celebrity-filled studios. But seeing the soundproofed fortresses of German public media and the literal “printing bunker” at SZ taught me something crucial: the real value of media isn’t popularity; it’s unwavering reliability.

This academic shift changed how I saw the Cha Eun-woo scandal. It’s not just celebrity gossip; it’s a symptom of a system where “images” have become the ultimate currency. My focus has moved from just “how to connect people” to “what we are actually protecting” with those connections.

The Price Tag on a Persona

Walking through Munich, I realized that the “image-power” we have in Korea isn’t a global rule. Take the brand Millet, for example. In Europe, it’s a technical, rugged brand for serious climbers. But in Korea, it’s a high-fashion lifestyle brand sold through the faces of top-tier idols.

Whether it’s a luxury suitcase or a mountain jacket, the product often disappears behind a famous persona. It taught me that Korean media consumption is built on a “social contract” of perfection. When that image cracks—like the historical entry ban of Yoo Seung-jun or these modern tax issues—the public fury is so intense because we feel cheated. We realize we weren’t buying a product; we were buying an illusion.

The Humans in Shadows

Beyond the big institutions, my most personal growth came from the “unfiltered” stories. Interviewing Woojin, the nurse facing the “hellfire” of the medical strike, was a reality check. It reminded me that while we pour all our attention and money into “perfect icons,” the people who actually keep our society running often deal with the most unpredictable variables in the shadows.

Even my night at Istanbul Airport was a lesson. Watching people negotiate for a bit of comfort against a strict system made me a more empathetic observer. I’ve learned that being a good communicator isn’t just about technical skills; it’s about understanding the human struggle that happens when the cameras are off.

Moving to the Next Channel

I’m returning to Korea not just as a student, but as a “dream-breaker” of my own old ideas. I used to think media was just about making things look good. Now, I want to be a Brand-Journalist who controls the whole story while keeping things honest. I won’t just focus on the speed of the link, but on the fairness of the flow.

To my friends and mentors in Munich, and to everyone I crossed paths with over the last six months—from the fellow travelers to the strangers I met while wandering across Europe—Vielen Dank! Traveling through so many different countries wasn’t just about seeing the sights; it was about seeing how the world links up in so many different ways. Every conversation I had and every person I met added a new layer to my understanding of “rhythm.” Leaving Munich feels like a transition to a new channel, but I’ll carry this “European perspective” and all these memories with me wherever I go.