It's one of the planet's last truly mysterious places: a country so boarded up and insular that any tidbit of information about life on the inside is ravenously consumed by the outside world. That's why hundreds of pages of vivid, double-spread photographs make us giddy with curiosity. Especially when they're as stunning as the shots in Anonymous Country: North Korea. Between 2012 and 2013, German photojournalist Julia Leeb made two trips to the Hermit Kingdom under the guise of tourism and discovered a surrealist landscape governed by ruthless politics, but populated by normal citizens. As attention surrounding her soon-to-be-released book heats up, Leeb isn't exactly planning her return trip. "I'm sure I'm blacklisted now," she tells The Daily Beast.
From the Democratic Republic of the Congo where she's working on a project about a school for disadvantaged children, Leeb describes her two tightly controlled visits to the Hermit Kingdom. Travelers are watched closely, and two minders were assigned to Leeb's small tour group of four women. The tourists were almost never let out of sight as they explored North Korean cities and countryside.
Julia Leeb
"It's like traveling in a parallel universe," Leeb says. But she wasn't out to make a book about the authoritarian regime. "I tried to be as neutral as I can and I tried to focus on the human beings and not the political aspect," she says. And it was those faces that set her photos apart from those of the cityscapes that have circulated over the years. There are the smiling kids and the families picnicking—normal scenes that could be from anywhere in the world. "The people there surprised me the most," Leeb says. "You just know the face of the dictator and the military, but you never hear about the 24 million people—I figured out there’s real life in the artifical."
Julia Leeb
North Korea was completely rebuilt after the war, and its architects transformed the country into a communist landscape with oversized buildings that give its capital, Pyongyang, the illusion of grandeur. "It affects your perception," Leeb says. "You feel very small [because] you're just not used to these dimensions."
Julia Leeb
Her first steps in the big city were a shock for Leeb. For a city with millions, it's amazingly silent. "You dont hear music, you don't see advertising, there’s no noise because there’s no traffic," Leeb describes. "You’re totally cut off from the rest of the world, you don't have internet, you cannot use your phone, and don't have radio—it's an experience in all senses."
Julia Leeb
She didn't get those photos without a breaking a few rules. A few days into her second trip, Leeb was snapping pictures from a moving bus—a forbidden practice—when the mood with her guards noticeably shifted. Soon after, they took away the entire group's passports. It turns out her predilection for photography had triggered their suspicions, and North Korean intelligence agents in Malaysia had looked up her name and discovered her past work as a journalist. (It appears they don't vet tourists beforehand, Leeb says).
Julia Leeb
"Our guides were very disappointed, they didn't look at me in the eyes. And we knew we were monitored all the time, so I could not even talk with my group. Everybody had to deal alone with this situation," she recalls. The group got their passports back on the last day, but Leeb's Germany-based travel agent said she was called up by North Korean officials and threatened with losing her license.
Julia Leeb
Leeb and her guides were constantly working to circumvent each other, but, as the 218 pages of photos in her new book prove, the journalist won the battle. "They’re also human beings and they also fall asleep," she says. "There are opportunities, you cannot hide a country." Leeb even managed to take enough video footage to piece together a series of multimedia pieces that can be downloaded on your phone as you flip through the book and scan various pages.
Julia Leeb
In an eloquent travelogue introduction to the photo collection, Leeb writes of the strange relationship she and her guides found themselves developing: "We go out for an evening of bowling. The North Koreans know how to brew excellent beer. The barriers between us slowly crumble. I'm developing affection for my tour guides—despite their unwavering need to keep a close eye on us."
Julia Leeb
After an icy beginning, the two minders began warming up to their visitors, sharing details about their lives over miles of hikes and adventures outside the capital. "You’re not supposed to get close to guides, but we did," Leeb says."We traveled over 3,000 kilometers, to hospitals, kindergartens, schools, and after a while you get close to your guide because they are also just human beings." Leeb ended up changing their names to protect them from any backlash the book could spark.
Julia Leeb
"It was a complicated situation: I liked them as a people but I didn't like their function," she says, "and I know they liked me, because they were laughing at my jokes, but I know they were afraid of my function."
Julia Leeb
If you don't mind a guide glued to your side, the hard-to-crack country shouldn't be neglected from your travel list without second thought. "I would recommend everyone go there and have a look with their own eyes," Leeb says.
Julia Leeb
