I still remember the moment I first set foot on this site. Although it was a 5–10 minute driving distance from the city centre of Dongducheon, it was as if I had entered a different universe. Even before the density and noise of the city had fully subsided, the air seemed to change at some point. Even now, it is difficult to pinpoint exactly where that line was. What is certain, however, is that beyond that moment, the sensations of the city were left behind, and a space of an entirely different order came into being. Surrounded by the forest on all sides, the site occupied a generous clearing at the heart of the woods. It felt less like a gap carved out of the forest and more of a place the forest had chosen to leave empty for itself. The sound of water running down from the surrounding channels, the sing song of birds, and grasses rustling in the wind overlapped in layers; simply standing there, enveloped by these sounds, brought an immediate sense of immersion in nature.
What we felt while first walking through the site – the sensation of going deeper as we moved inward, and the shift that occurred the moment we crossed boundaries – became an attitude that ran through the entire design process. The depth of the view, extending from the courtyard to the void, from the void to the programme, and finally back into the forest, was ultimately an architectural translation of the physical experience we had when we first arrived at the site.
The client’s requirements were surprisingly straightforward. Although the café and the accommodation were to be functionally separate, they wanted the two to read as a single, small-scale resort. The question was how to bring distinct programmes together as one place while keeping them clearly differentiated. At the same time, we considered whether the boundaries between the café and restaurant as spaces of consumption, and the stay as a space of dwelling and retreat, could be blurred by integrating them within a single architectural framework.
An Inverted Spatial Order
In Louis Kahn’s concept of ‘served space’ and ‘servant space’, the servant space is inherently secondary—a space that exists to support the primary programme. This project began by reversing this hierarchy. The conditions of the site within a forest made this inversion almost inevitable. The building was conceived so that every view would flow from the interior outward, with its four distinct programmes – one café and three accommodation units – each positioned along the perimeter of the site and oriented toward the surrounding forest. This naturally led to a courtyard-centred configuration. From the courtyard to its outward perimeter, the space unfolds not as a single layer but as a series of overlapping layers. The sequence of courtyard-void-programme-forest is more than a circulation path. It is a device for accumulating depth of vision. With each passing layer, the view of the outside becomes progressively deeper. In this way, nature is not presented as a landscape to be immediately consumed, but as something to be perceived gradually, layer by layer. The roof serves to weave these multiple spatial layers into a single architectural form. By reflecting the individual layers through the roof’s connections and articulations, the depth of nature is extended vertically. Served space and servant space exist not as hierarchical concepts, but as forms of interrelation. If the served space is where the activities of the programme take place, the servant space is where the systems and functions that enable those activities are housed. FORET 149 reverses this relationship. Each void plays an active role in framing views toward nature, yet rather than being expressed as a solid mass like the programme spaces, it remains as an interval—a space of absence. In this way, the void simultaneously serves (servant) the programme while becoming the primary space (served) within the space the programme has yielded. The intention was to create a continuous cycle in which served and servant spaces turn toward and sustain one another.
Structure of Space Timber construction does not conceal the path through which loads are transferred. Each structural member (such as columns, beams, braces, and where walls meet) are left exposed rather than concealed behind finishes, allowing users to read how the architecture stands. The structural system was selected according to the spatial configuration of each programme. The café is positioned toward the entrance, with the user’s view extending all the way to the courtyard. To achieve this, a heavy timber structure was employed, with all four sides finished in glass to create an open and transparent space. In contrast, The stay units were enclosed with light-frame timber walls as they require greater privacy for guests. The roof connecting the two spaces takes different structural approaches to each. In the café, heavy timber girders suspend the second-floor slab, enhancing the sense of openness within the interior. In the stay units, the girders are supported by light-frame walls, while openings were made in the roofs of these voids to reduce the structural load. The rafter structure that forms the roof plane is exposed throughout the building, establishing a consistent rhythm and creating a sense of unity across the entire architectural structure.
The Materiality of Space
Timber was considered from the outset as the primary exterior material for the timber structure. We carefully considered how the material would respond to the changing landscape throughout the four seasons while managing to maintain the distinct character of each space. For both the café and the stay units, we sought an achromatic tone that would contrast with the natural colours of the surrounding landscape, ultimately selecting black charred timber produced through a natural process of carbonisation.
Timber is charred by fire, giving it greater durability as an exterior material while allowing its deep, dark texture to quietly recede into the surrounding trees. It proved difficult to achieve the desired texture in Korea, so we made several trips to a charred-timber workshop in Japan, adjusting the intensity of the fire and the pressure of the brushing process to develop a distinctive surface specifically for FORET 149. Rather than artificially stripping away the charred outer bark of the cedar, we preserved as much of it as possible. The intention was to allow the charred bark to naturally shed over time in response to rain, sunlight, seasonal humidity, and the form of the building. As the surface changes over the course of ten or twenty years, the traces of that transformation will themselves become a record of time, allowing the architecture to gradually merge with its surrounding landscape.
You can see more information on the SPACE No. September (2026).
Architect
demo+architects (Choi Sungsik)
Design team
Park Hyungkook
Location
149, Sangpae-dong, Dongducheon-si, Gyeonggi-do, Korea
Programme
neighbourhood living facility (café), single family house (stay)
Site area
1,631㎡
Building area
324.76㎡
Gross floor area
420.07㎡
Building scope
2F
Parking
3
Height
7.32m
Building to land ratio
19.91%
Floor area ratio
25.76%
Structure
wood structure
Exterior finishing
charred timber
Interior finishing
wood, paint, stone
Structural engineer
Frame Cad, Geumna Structure Engneering
Mechanical and electrical engineer
GM EMC Engineering
Construction
TCM Construction
Design period
Apr. 2024–Apr. 2025
Construction period
Jan.–Dec. 2025
Cost
KRW 1.5 billion
Choi Sungsik
Choi Sungsik studied at Kookmin University before gaining experience in various architectural practices. He established demo+architects to pursue collaboration and collective creation across multiple disciplines grounded in architecture. Within the multilayered and overcrowded conditions of contemporary cities and architecture, and a smartphone-driven world saturated with media, he explores cities, spaces, and architecture – or things akin to them – with a critical perspective. Even if the resulting work may appear somewhat rough or incomplete, he hopes it can be read as a demo version of software or music: imperfect in its present form, yet clearly carrying new possibilities and a distinct direction for what it might become.