SPACE April 2025 (No. 689)
Moving Forward by Means of Difference and Repetition
Interview Jeong Jaeheon professor, Kyung Hee University × Park Jiyoun
A Language of Inside and Outside
Park Jiyoun (Park): You’ve said that when you design – and not just the residential projects you’ve worked on, but also offices and hotels – that it’s like ‘designing houses with different characteristics’. You’ve also emphasised that other uses of buildings besides houses are spaces for longer stays as well, and you’ve tried to create an architecture that allows for freer and different kinds of movement. You’ve also mentioned that the three café projects presented here are ‘like a single village’. Could you elaborate on the implications of this?
Jeong Jaeheon (Jeong): A typical café is self-contained, like a single objet. This type of architecture emphasises form, but I placed greater emphasis on a sense of comfort. A village is distinguished from a type of complex where you get to move around according to pre-planned areas. It is spontaneous and a collection of parts. The entrance is not explicit, the boundaries are ambiguous, and the distinction between the centre and periphery is blurred. Where I stand is the very centre, and positions are established on the basis of relationships. These spatial characteristics of such a village are particularly evident in Mineral House (2024). Mineral House is open to the riverside without a boundary. The outdoor spaces are divided and connected into different areas by buildings, walls and fences that are appropriately adjusted according to the weaving pattern of the surrounding fields and paddies. Like a small village, the communities are arranged around the water space. The spaces in between are interconnected, with no distinction between inside and outside, interior and exterior, centre and periphery, allowing people to wander freely through them. There are no exhibits on display, but there are series of paths that people can walk along and enjoy as if they were in an art museum, and there are hidden places where people can stop walking and enjoy and experience the ever-changing nature, as if they were watching a single film directed by an architect.
Park: In these projects, the relationship to nature stands out. When we visited the site, you said that you ‘wanted to create architecture that has stepped behind nature’, but I personally felt that this is closer to an architecture that ‘add[s] value to the town’s landscape’, as Cho Namho (principal, Soltozibin Architects, covered in SPACE No. 614) has said in the past. This is true in the sense that the form of the architecture and the internal framing dedicated to a view, make one look again at their surroundings and make it seem more beautiful. What exactly does ‘architecture that has stepped behind’ mean? I would also like to hear your thoughts on ‘architecture that adds value to the town’s landscape’.
Jeong: The idea of stepping behind nature is both an attitude and a goal. Here, architecture becomes a backdrop to make nature the protagonist. Adding value to a town’s landscape is a way of achieving the above-mentioned attitude. Now that I am getting older, I think about the places where I was happiest when I was practising architecture. I would say, the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art (1958) in Denmark by Jørgen Bo and Wilhelm Wohlert, and the Heritance Kandalama Hotel (1994) in Sri Lanka designed by Geoffrey Bawa. Such architecture is set in nature, as if it were a backdrop to nature. There is also a client who still lives in the houses I designed 30 years ago. When I visited the house recently, the trees that I had planted at the time without much thought had grown to gigantic sizes. I came to think to myself, should I have planted that tree with greater care, and have I created any works of architecture that are more magnificent than that tree in my entire career of practising architecture? Architecture is destined to be on the other side of time, while nature is on the side of time. As time goes by, I get to feel and acknowledge this truth in my practice.
Planning an Ambiance
Park: At Café Hosidam (2018), when I turned and walked up the slope to stand at the level of the building and look at the mountain range in the foreground, I felt like I was facing a painting. In other projects, you’ve also made delicate adjustments to the height and framing of the floors and walls to make the surrounding scenery visually beautiful. In what ways were they adjusted this time?
Jeong: There’s an idiom, ‘If you choose the right site, half the design is done.’ Our country is graced with a nature that is not flat, but has many different layers overlapping, such as hilly terrain and the flow of water in the valley, which create a graceful and dramatic scenery that possesses a clear distinction between the four seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. When I plan the orientation and moment of direct encounter, I tend to distinguish between places where the landscape may change and places where it may not, and I also think carefully about what unique landscape features a site can offer. The reason for placing a wall directly in front of Café Hosidam is to preserve the landscape behind it, even if a new building is erected in front of it. If we speak in terms of close-range, middle-distance, and far-distance views, it’s as if we were to build walls and fences up to the middle-distance view, create a new closerange view, and then bring in the far-distance view behind it. This is similar to the traditional Korean yard, where nothing is planted in the yard, but rather walls and fences are built where necessary, and then the landscape outside the walls and fences is embraced.
Park: What is the architectural value of experiencing a piece of scenery? How is it different from looking at a beautiful piece of artwork?
Jeong: If painting is a visual art, architecture seems like a temporal art. Wolfgang von Goethe once described architecture as ‘frozen music’. This means that the inspiration given by architecture and music is similar, and that architecture is also an aggregate of many different elements, just as many different musical notes come together to make a single piece of music. The movement of the circulation is based on the rhythm of the spaces, and the inspiration arises over time. In the meantime, if I were to compare my project to a painting, I would say it is a work of abstract expressionism or Korean Dansaekhwa (monochrome painting). This is because, depending on the audience, there is a lot of room to make different interpretations and also reflect personal experiences, and because the emphasis is on interaction with the audience.
Park: In this critique, Lim Kitaek (professor, Pukyong National University) described architecture, including landscaping, as ‘monochrome painting’. What is the reason for using mainly low chroma materials? Please explain, including the planting plan for Mineral House and Café Unjoongdong (2023), for which you were personally in charge of the landscaping.
Jeong: When the site is close to the natural environment, the architecture of achromatic colour helps us to fully feel the change and beauty of nature. In the city centre, it can embrace the strong and eye-catching buildings nearby. In the case of landscaping, I got to work on it myself because I was unable to work with Kim Youngtaeg (principal, Studio KnL), with whom I’ve worked for a long time, due to unforeseeable circumstances. Even in previous projects, I considered the landscape architecture in mind from early stages of design, considering land shape, materials and textures of plants, and so on. But this time it was certainly more difficult to work on the details, including the choice of each individual plant. In the case of silvergrass, there are dozens of varieties, including morning light, green light, and pink muhly grass. As for the Mineral House, I minimise planting to a new plant in the inside place because many trees such as metasequoias, zelkovas tree and cherry trees already existed in surrounding area. Outside, I used the grass types which embrace scenery of paddy filed, farmland, and riverbank. At the same time, grass easily accessible in surroundings and capable of revealing the changes of the four seasons. We can hear and feel the sound of wind from the grass. As I mentioned, when I design the landscaping, I focused on texture rather than form, and auditory, tactile sense rather than visual. I worked with the idea of creating a symphony of each element so that the architecture could be united with the surrounding scenery.
Park: In Mineral House, the building with the gable roof leads to the building with the V-shaped ceiling. If the building with the gable roof had been finished with a 人-shaped ceiling to match the shape of the roof, the architectural experience would have been emphasised by connecting with the V-shaped ceiling of the adjacent building. Instead, a flat wooden ceiling with its own texture was chosen. I think these decisions show that the architect values the emotional experiences of the serene, the peaceful, and the relaxed.
Jeong: The building with the V-shaped ceiling was covered on both sides, so I wanted it to be open to the sky. The reason for finishing the gable roof building with a flat ceiling was to open the view to the water space in front. The character of the space was defined by the relationship between the indoor and outdoor, rather than being completed by considering each interior space and the architecture itself.
Park: For the architect’s intention to be understood by the user, it is important that the building is well maintained. I’ve heard that you also provide the client guidelines on how to maintain the building well.
Jeong: There are certain times when the clients do not maintain their buildings well. If you compare it to food, the ingredients are good enough on their own, but additional seasonings are added. The most representative case would be that a good piece of wood for exterior ages beautifully on its own, but stains are deliberately used to make it wood colour. I also tell them how to prune the branches according to the shape of the tree, because ultimately, I want the architecture to possess a ‘beauty of time’. This is also taken into account in the initial choice of architectural materials. I avoid secondary industrial materials such as zinc, stainless steel, and window sashes, and prefer materials that have undergone less processing, such as stone and iron. These are materials that can develop their own unique atmosphere as they age, rather than those that are unchangeable.
Adjustments to Physical Properties
Park: While most of the exteriors of houses, offices, and hotels are finished with brick, the main material of these three cafés is exposed concrete. How do you define the building use of a house and a café, as well as the physical properties of brick and exposed concrete, and how do you think the café and exposed concrete have come to be harmony?
Jeong: Brick is pixel-based, so it has a relaxed feel, like a piece of pointillist work, while concrete is a material with a strong formation and no seams. Concrete is not often used in houses, but it is sometimes used for interiors. This is to give a sense of coldness to warm materials such as wood, to balance the space. On the other hand, cafés are not living spaces like houses, so I was able to use concrete, which has a rough and cold feel, relatively freely.
Park: In the case of Café Unjoongdong, the fact that the terraces on each floor face the exterior walls that surround the interior like a ribbon, and that the interior and exterior are visually connected by the square frames of the exterior walls, appear to be an adaptation of the DFY Head Office (2020). The difference here is that in DFY Head Office the exterior and interior finishes of the exterior walls are brick, while in Café Unjoongdong, the exterior finish of the exterior walls is brick, and the interior finish is concrete. What prompted these differences? And how do you distinguish between the cladding and the physical properties?
Jeong: Both projects were about creating a landscape area of its own by creating a defensive layer on a site with a distracting environment. First of all, there is a difference in that Café Unjoongdong is located in a relatively rural area, while DFY Head Office is in the city centre. Therefore, as I mentioned earlier, I had a little more freedom to use concrete in Café Unjoongdong. Also, my practice moves forward by means of ‘repetition and difference’. When I get a certain insight, I add a new element from the previous project to improve the level of completion once again. In the case of Café Unjoongdong, I was inspired by the prayer hall of the National Parliament House (1974) designed by Louis Kahn. I was impressed by the spatialisation of the structure and the way the heavy walls seemed lightweight. Café Unjoongdong is a project that adds a new structural experiment to DFY Head Office, where the structural problem at the corner is solved, leaving part of the wall on the first floor empty and giving the impression that the wall on the second floor is floating. As for the cladding and the physical properties, I think the physical properties can also be expressed even with the added materials. However, I try to construct in a way that is close to the nature of the material. For example, even if I add a piece of brick, I try to make it look like it has been stacked, while keeping the spirit of the construction method alive, and I work to make it about 90cm thick so that it gives a sense of the weight of a piece of stone.
Park: The interior of the restroom in Mineral House is finished with exposed concrete ‘with cracks’. It is a work that requires a delicate adjustment to deliberately create cracks in the concrete by adjusting the temperature and humidity. So, I suppose there must have been a unique spatial interpretation of the restroom in the café.
Jeong: When there is a landscape in the distance, you naturally become captivated by the landscape, but when your view is blocked, your sensory apprehension and all five senses become open. So, I worked in a way that people could feel other senses, such as cracked exposed concrete, and light shining through leaves rather than direct sunlight. If ‘monochrome architecture’ was intended to blend in with nature, I could say that the restroom was designed as ‘micro-architecture’ to stimulate the senses.
Park: For the floors, materials with different textures such as stone, wood, brick, and water were used. It occurred to me that perhaps the floor was the only element in which you could try different materials, as you chose to use exposed concrete with a single finish for the walls. What were your concerns in choosing the physical properties of the floor?
Jeong: The wall height of each building in Mineral House is 3,200mm throughout. A gable roof is placed on the top and a wooden block is added around it. A slow, horizontal line was drawn along the vast, peacefully stretching the fields in the distance, while the inside of architecture sought to encompass subtle, imperceptible vertical shifts within. Water becomes a vertical element of unfathomable depth through reflection and projection. Also, unlike in the West, we live barefoot on the ondol , so we are very sensitive to the needs of the foot. By varying the materials, such as rough stone and smooth concrete, the intention was to create a series of sequences that could be intimately sensed.
Park: On the contrary, the ceilings of each building are all finished with wood, but there is a variation in the texture. For example, compared to your previous projects such as Achiul House (2017) and Pangyo House (2018), the number of materials used in these projects was fewer, but with a different method of processing. Is this method a result of the use of the building as a café or does it reflect a change in your design disposition?
Jeong: The disposition of my practice is changing. When I was inexperienced, I designed a work with white finishes like modernist architecture, but as I gained experience, I tried to use different materials, textures, and colours, even for a single element of a wall. Now I know that a plan that gives a variation of texture to a single material adds a unique atmosphere to a space.
Tracing the Footprints of the Project
Park: Architects who pay careful attention to details are usually sensitive to construction errors. However, in the Mineral House, the floor was found to be pitted due to the accumulation of water, and there was a misalignment of the concrete walls. Even if this was a step towards a more natural architecture, what is the feeling behind accepting errors?
Jeong: A work of architecture is not a manufactured product. The design is only a standard, and architecture can certainly go through changes in the process of construction. If the errors cause significant disharmony with the architecture, they will be corrected, but sometimes it is necessary to have tolerance. In my early days, it was difficult to accept these errors, but now I accept them if they do not interfere with the general flow. I have come to realise that errors can reveal different faces and suddenly look beautiful.
Park: Café Hosidam and Mineral House are projects on the same line of extension, with a similar form of gable roof, relationship between roof and wall, and architectural details. Both have sites that are open to nature, and although Hosidam has a smaller site on a scale of 1/3, and the architectural language (plate play) is more clearly visible. On the other hand, as mentioned earlier, DFY Head Office and Café Unjoongdong are on the same line of extension, and, while both are of a similar size, DFY Head Office is located in the city centre. And they all had a clear architectural language (floating mass to empty the interior). Although you’ve said that you prefer sites surrounded by nature, I felt that you adjust the outdoor conditions well, whether in nature or in the city centre, and I even suspected that you might be more influenced by scale. What kind of site do you feel comfortable working in, and what kind do you prefer?
Jeong: A piece of land where an architect feels comfortable working is different from a piece of land that feels beautiful. In the past, I wanted to build a magnificent building next to a cultural landmark, and I fulfilled that wish with Toh Cheon Lilac House (2015). This is a piece of land that is great for the architect to work on, and by putting a building there, the place gains the potential to be transformed into a great location. To put it simply, a beautiful piece of land is a piece of land that is in nature. In fact, Café Unjoongdong was a tricky project in that the environment and landscape changed rapidly as the level changed due to the undulating height in sections. This topological weakness was addressed in a three-dimensional way, and the ground levels, which follow the sloping terrain, adjust the height of the floor surface and create a nearby landscape of silvergrass and wildgrass to add depth. The second floor, which is the same height as the highway, has rigid walls to protect it from speed and noise, while the top floor, surrounded by high walls, widely opens to the sky. And the square frames have been used as a boundary to allow people to see the cluttered cityscape from a step behind. This is a project that has a great deal of affection for me as an architect, because I’ve worked in various ways on designing the frame for this barren land, experimenting with the unity of structure and space.
Park: You studied under Henri Ciriani and were influenced by Louis Kahn. Recently, you’ve also said that you pay a lot of attention to the architecture of Geoffrey Bawa. Where do you think your design temperament has come from and where is it headed? How do you think your identity as a Korean and your upbringing in the countryside have influenced this process?
Jeong: It is said that you begin to appreciate nature after the age of forty, and that you love nature after the age of sixty. I think I’m following this adage. In terms of spatial composition, I don’t think I can escape Ciriani and Le Corbusier. But as time went on, I realised that practising a modern form of architecture like Le Corbusier doesn’t suit the climate of our country. This led me to pay attention to Kahn’s approach, which emphasises the senses and experiences that people are given. Recently, I have been impressed by the architecture of Bawa. It is an architecture that is peaceful, natural, and weathered. It is an architecture that evokes a longing for what has been lost and the reminiscences of childhood.
