Kim Jung-up spent three and a half years working in the office of Le Corbusier. Returning to Korea, Kim began producing work that combined the formal qualities of the Swiss architect’s latest work with a uniquely Korean sentiment—but with a modern twist. One of his most famous works today is the Seo Obstetrical Clinic, a bold curved structure in exposed mass concrete. Fittingly enough for the building’s function, its shape boasts a number of sexual metaphors, its images representing the uterus and phallus. Adding to its significance was its use of free, organic curves at a time when box-like structures were the norm in Korea.
The design principle that informed its surfaces and shapes was that of
“reproducing circles,” and the result was a gorgeous use of curves that connect over the entire structure. This formal beauty is especially visible with the meandering inner spaces and the outer curves that overlap along the ramp.
Another of Kim’s great accomplishments was the main building at Jeju National University. This, too, was an example of Kim giving full expression to his poetic sensibilities through an aesthetic of abundance. Round mushroom-like columns wrapped around three freely curving ramps, create powerful shapes. The lower level was divided into several blocks, while the top portion occupied a single block at the center; the roof called to mind a spaceship surging up toward the heavens. The abundance extended to the façade—eclectic mixtures of concrete, glass, metal, brick, and basalt. When it was built, it was called “21st century” architecture for the way it defied technical obstacles in its experimental design and construction. Sadly, the building was torn down in 1996.
Kim’s tour de force may be the French Embassy in Seoul, which was completed in 1962. It actually consists of two buildings, the embassy proper and the ambassador’s residence, the bodies of the structures topped with sleek roofs recalling the kinds used in traditional Korean architecture. The embassy roof is high, seemingly taking flight; the roof of the ambassador’s home is low and more organically connected to the
building. But while the forms may draw upon Korea’s lyrical traditions, they are also a highly accomplished reinterpretation of them. This is especially visible in the arrangement of the buildings so that the roofs and outer structures seem to change from one second to the next as one moves along the entrance road—an effect that has been described by some as echoing the characteristics of Korea’s Buddhist temples. Kim’s work on the embassy would earn him the French National Order of Merit, Chevalier.
Kim Swoo Geun pioneered modernism in Korean architecture from the 1960s through the 1980s. He studied in Japan before returning home in 1961 and immediately making his presence felt with his designs for the Freedom Center and the Walkerhill Hilltop Bar. The Freedom Center is a monument of a structure, an architectural expression of the day’s national philosophy supporting liberty and opposing Communism. Kim’s powerful architectural language is felt in the colonnade, the massive, boldly hoisted concrete eaves, the independent sculptural elements. It is, after all, a monument, and the forms and scale are suitably exaggerated. But it also boasts a capacious indoor space, with 70 percent of the floor area given
Left: Exterior and interior of Seo Obstetrical Clinic
Right: French Embassy in Korea
over to galleries, walkways, and lobbies. Inside are three open “street”
spaces, helping to create a feeling of continuous flow.
The structure where Kim’s architecture reached its fullest maturity was the SPACE Group building. It was first built in 1971 and took seven years to expand. The result is perhaps the greatest representation of Kim’s chief themes: continuity in space, human scale, and a reinterpretation of the traditional Korean courtyard. The long buildings, positioned along slender slivers of ground, are designed to be entered from the side; at the center, a courtyard space becomes the focal point for all activity. The interior spaces are made diverse by contrasts of narrow and broad, high and low, closed and open. Outside and in, the texture of brick is left exposed, adding to the sense of familiarity. Kim often used brick in his structures, seeing it not just as an familiar material but also representative of the
Old and new SPACE Group buildings (left, © Chung Kwangsik), brick façade of old SPACE Group building (right, © Osamu Murai) Source: Kim Swoo Geun Foundation
sort of hand-crafted technique best suited to a human scale.
Kim’s spatial characteristics find perhaps their best representation in a series of religious buildings he designed. Kyungdong Presbyterian Church, Masan Yangduk Cathedral, and Bulgwangdong Catholic Church are widely seen as his three greatest ecclesiastical buildings. The first two are entered by way of a narrow staircase that turns toward the back of the main building, functioning as a sort of mechanism for the visitor to enter a spiritual space. Inside, the sense of mystery is heightened as light shines through the windows onto dark and powerful concrete shapes.
Outside of all three buildings, a sense of artistry is emphasized with a structure that resembles hands folded in prayer.
Kim Swoo Geun’s technical experiments continued with his designs for the track and field and gymnastics stadiums for the 1988 Summer
Kyungdong Presbyterian Church © Osamu Murai (top) (Source: Kim Swoo Geun Foundation)
Olympics in Seoul. He also experimented with traditional forms and organic arrangement of elements in his designs for the national museums in Cheongju and Jinju. His significance lies first and foremost in the way he ushered in an artistic revival—not just in architecture but in Korean culture in general—through his work with the magazine SPACE and through art theater The Love of Space. In a May 1977 article, Time magazine called him Seoul’s Lorenzo de’ Medici, comparing him to a figure that led the artistic flourishing of Renaissance-era Florence.
Right around the time Western modernism was making its way into Asia and the Third World, the movement was beginning to blend with regional characteristics and assume a more indigenous, localized aspects. Kim Jung-up and Kim Swoo Geun are significant in the way that they neither blindly adopted Western modernism nor uncritically followed the formal traditions of Korean architecture, but offered a new interpretation of the two. They were also masters of their craft who sought to show their nation’s cultural potential through their work. Their rich body of work is both an important standard for the architects of the next generation, and a mountain they will have to scale.
The 4.3 Group and Architectural Humanities
As Korea moved into the 1970s, it was experiencing unprecedented economic growth, but it was also facing a jarring transformation into an industrial society. A building boom in the Middle East helped spur improvements in construction technology, and corporate-funded companies began taking off. At the same time, the national government was spearheading projects to give direct form to the country’s traditions
—part of a state policy to push elements of indigenous culture to the
foreground . Tile roofs, pillars, and other traditional motifs found their way into concrete structures. This was perhaps the zenith of the construction drive, buoyed by rapid economic development. But it was in the following decade, the 1980s, that architecture really began to diversify. The arrival of postmodernism sparked attempts at freedom of form and expression.
The generational changing of the guard was hastened in the later part of the decade, as first-generation architects like Lee Hui-tae, Kim Swoo Geun, and Kim Joong-up began to pass away one by one. By the early 1990s, a new group had emerged, and its members—most of them architects in their thirties to forties—were posing very different questions from those of the previous generation.
The 4.3 Group Exhibition was staged in 1992 in a tiny gallery in Seoul’s Dongsung neighborhood. Fourteen architects participated, all of them under the age of 50. They wanted to reform architecture, to introduce new methods of thinking into it. Where the allegiances of the previous generation had been with function and design, the 4.3 Group adhered to a more auteurist approach. They saw architecture as a form of culture, and approached it from the perspective of the humanities. Their interest was less in regional identity and more in the inherent value of the architecture, its materiality and space. As far as traditional architecture was concerned, they favored a spiritual, conceptual approach over a formalist one. After the exhibition was over, they set about creating a culture of self-criticism, organizing research and seminars on Korean identity and traditional architecture. With the subsequent founding of the Seoul Institute of Architecture (SA), they began forging a new discourse, sharing their own ideals about what constituted architectural education.
The group, like most architects of this period, was concerned about
spatiality and the relationship with the city. Buildings at the time were functional, insular with regard to the city they occupied, and the architects set about forging a more active relationship, one where the buildings were part of the city structure. Yangjae 287.3, from a design by Joh Sung-yong, is an example of this emphasis on presence with the urban structure, the creation of various intermediate spaces where building meets city.
They also tried to mine the rich vein of spatial concepts in traditional architecture and offer a more modern take on them. Seung H-Sang’s Sujoldang Residence, for example, adhered to a “pauper’s aesthetic,”
emphasizing the traditional virtue of spatial restraint. Min Hyun-shik’s designs for the Gugak National Middle School and Korea National University of Cultural Heritage use the courtyard of the traditional hanok house as a starting point for exploring the theme of emptiness.
The 4.3 Group itself did not last long after introducing its new
Architects from the 4.3 Group participated in designing Paju Book City (left) and Heyri Art Valley (right)
perspective, but its members carried on with their experiments in architectural education at SA. By the 2000s, another turning point had arrived with the building of the Paju Book City and Heyri Art Valley. Built in conjunction with the publishers, the Book City followed a master plan drafted by the architect group that shared the same ideals and community values—the city as a way of restoring humanity. The designs were the work of individual architects following these guidelines, representing their own attempts to achieve an ideal city. Despite the use of master plans, both the Paju Book City and Heyri Art Valley today boast fascinating structures that put the idiosyncrasies of the individual architects on full display. In 2010, the Book City was introduced to an international audience at the Venice Biennale’s Korea Pavilion.