[DIALOGUE] The Discipline of Simplicity | Choi Moongyu + Ga.A Architects

SPACE September 2026 (No. 706)

 

Ssamziegil​(2004) ©Kim Yongkwan 

 

 

DIALOGUE Choi Moongyu Professor, Yonsei University × Pai Hyungmin Professor Emeritus, University of Seoul

 

 

 

Section and Scale​

Pai Hyungmin (Pai): In this issue of FRAME, we are taking a close look at three recent projects by Choi Moongyu and Ga.A Architects: Seoul National University Medical Library (2025, hereinafter SNU Library), Kansong Art Museum Daegu (2024, hereinafter Kansong Daegu), and PARKSEOBO MUSEUM (2026). I’d like to frame our conversation around a few themes that came to mind while observing these three projects. The first quality they share is simplicity. Simplicity has long been a principle of modern architecture; architects have their own ways of interpreting and realising simplicity. What is particularly striking in your projects is that their simplicity does not overwhelm the occupant. Even in museums, which by their nature tend to be closed off from their external surroundings, there is a sense of simplicity that quietly lets you know where you are and what you are looking at. By contrast, we are all familiar with architecture that pursues simplicity itself. Ando Tadao’s architecture is a representative example, intently orchestrating intense experiences through its scale and material.

 

Choi Moongyu (Choi): Simplicity is the most important theme in my architecture: simple architecture built upon clarity of thought. I begin with the idea of ‘questioning the familiarities of the world and proposing alternatives’, then refine and develop that idea so that it can be clearly understood. As I think more about how to communicate an idea rather than the form of a building, a design that was initially complex gradually becomes simpler, and my concern with the shape, size, or proportion of windows, for example, starts to fade. Rather than arbitrary proportions or forms, I focus on ‘communicating the idea’. If I use a cube, for example, I tend towards an exact cube, and the windows become square. In Ssamziegil (2004), I concentrated on creating a natural continuation from Insadong-gil into the building, using materials that do not call attention to themselves and concealing the details. Hansook Cheong Memorial (2003), where glass makes the ground floor transparent while allowing the second floor to reflect the landscape, and Korea Reading Guidance (2003), where each façade of the rectangular building is finished in a different material, follows the same line of thought. Kansong Daegu demonstrates the integration of land, architecture, and landscape; SNU Library clearly articulates the difference between its south side, facing the forest and pedestrian path, and its west side, facing the Gyeongmogung Shrine Site. Simplicity emerged as the result of revealing these conditions as they are, each with their own distinctly different ‘two faces’, almost like Baron Ashura.

 

 

 

Ssamziegil​(2004) ©Kim Yongkwan 

 

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Ssamziegil​(2004) ©Kim Yongkwan 

 

 

Pai: I find myself paying particular attention to the plans and sections that make such clarity possible. The section plays an important role in all three projects. The direction in which the sections are cut and the ways in which they are understood differ from one project to another.

 

Choi: To me, the plan and section belong to different worlds. If the plan reveals structures of power through size and position, the section creates ‘relationships’ with others. Through the section, it is possible to visually loosen the hierarchy inherent in the plan. I believe that the transparency and sectional depth created by modern architecture can generate new human relationships. My thinking is influenced by Le Corbusier’s Free Plan and Adolf Loos’s Raumplan. The Raumplan, although realised only in Loos’s houses, allows space to gain depth in all directions and holds the possibility of making people aware of the presence of others. In deep, transparent spaces, people can connect by observing one another’s movements, becoming aware of each other’s presence. Ssamziegil, Soongsil University Student Union (2013), and UOS Centennial Memorial Hall (2018, hereinafter UOS Hall) are all spaces of chance encounters, where people become aware of each other’s presence, both inside and outside the building. I suppose my past experiences led me to believe that this kind of architecture could contribute to creating a better society. (laugh) So, as in Kansong Daegu and SNU Library, I tried to go beyond mere spatial pleasure by practicing a kind of spatial democracy through sectional relationships.

 

Pai: If one quality of the section is an awareness of others, that is, the interconnectedness of an open society, the next consideration would be the size of the space. Wasn’t this interest in scale already evident in your early works in Paju and Heyri?

 

Choi: The size of space is something I have explored for a long time. My daughter and I are different in height and weight, and yet I have always found it strange that we eat slices of bread of exactly the same thickness. Architecture is much the same. If you look at the buildings around us, every floor except the ground and top floors is divided into uniform height, as though slicing a loaf of bread. Only the exterior materials such as glass, stone, concrete, and so on differ; sectionally, they are essentially the same building. I had long been thinking about ways to break away from this uniformity. In my early projects, with limited budgets such as Daeshin Publishing (2003), I was able to apply and experiment with this idea in space. With SNU Library and Kansong Daegu, achieving a sense of completeness was extremely challenging because the different interior spaces, while connected to one another, had to retain their distinct presence. If simplicity is overemphasised, a space can become dull or bland; but if the section is complicated for no reason, it ends up as little more than a spatial game, leaving people disoriented as they wander around.

 

 

 

Hansook Cheong Memorial​(2003)

 

 

Pai: In my book Beyond Architecture, Beyond Criticism (2025), I described Ssamziegil and Hyundai Card Music Library (2015) as ‘invisible architecture’. This description emerges from their distinct urban context and scale. Soongsil University Student Union and UOS Hall could also be considered invisible but on a larger scale. Both stretch along the campus terrain, so the buildings cannot be grasped as a whole at a glance. Kansong Daegu has a similar quality. The entrance, supported by tall timber columns, has a strong visual, material, and spatial presence; but elsewhere the architecture, flowing with the terrain, resist becoming visual objects. PARKSEOBO MUSEUM, by contrast, is immediately legible as ‘two cubes on top of a rectangular box’. Here, simplicity is made visible. This brings to mind some of your early works in Paju and Heyri, such as Hansook Cheong Memorial, Booksea Publishing (2005), and Korea Reading Guidance. Compared with your recent work, these smaller early projects, given the nature of their clients and users, can be understood as single volumes. Accordingly, the way their interior spaces are differentiated is markedly different from PARKSEOBO MUSEUM or SNU Library. At SNU Library, three volumes responding to the heterogeneous urban contexts on all four sides are internally connected, while at Kansong Daegu, the galleries, lobby, atrium, storage, offices, and other spaces are connected in response to the topography and landscape. PARKSEOBO MUSEUM, situated in a dense low-rise residential neighbourhood, has a section that accommodates different uses. Each project has its own mode of sectional differentiation, bringing a distinctive form of publicness and complexity.

 

 

 

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Hansook Cheong Memorial​(2003)

 

Hansook Cheong Memorial​(2003)​

 

 

Choi: I think what you mean by ‘invisible architecture’ is a building that blends completely into its urban setting and comes to be perceived as part of its surroundings as a whole. That was not something I set out to achieve from the beginning, but if the work has been ‘read’ as ‘invisible architecture’, that may not necessarily be a compliment for an architect working in today’s ‘society of the spectacle’. (laugh) Kansong Daegu and SNU Library are simply too large to hide, so even when the buildings are broken into smaller volumes and their sections follow the shape of the land, they inevitably stand out. As buildings grow in scale, their programmes become more complex and the individual spaces become larger. In the past, as with the gymnasium in UOS Hall, hiding it from view, I tried to solve the programme within the section. These days, I am more interested in how to respect the programme and clearly express the presence of these large spaces across the exterior. SNU Library marked a turning point in this shift. The College of Medicine conducted a survey of its students, and many wanted tall, transparent, and bright spaces. So, I proposed a reading room as a symbolic space. Since the limited budget made it impossible to transform the entire library, we applied the idea to one area, the grand reading room, and tried to make the space, rather than the building, visible. We then developed the scheme further so that not only the grand reading room but all the reading rooms would have different sectional conditions. Around that time, we also began designing PARKSEOBO MUSEUM. I like art and often visit galleries, but apart from large national and public museums, I have generally found galleries to be too small and their ceiling height too low. Since Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall appeared, contemporary art has seen a rapid rise in large-scale installations and site-specific works, and it has showcased work by artists such as Louise Bourgeois, Anish Kapoor, Rachel Whiteread, and Olafur Eliasson. As the possibilities of space have been redefined, even the Guggenheim Museum’s central rotunda, once left empty beneath the skylight, is now used as exhibition space. With this in mind, we gave the galleries at PARKSEOBO MUSEUM different widths and ceiling heights on each floor so that the museum could accommodate new forms of art, and placed an independent 8m-high cube gallery on the third floor. This is the exact opposite of the conventional museum arrangement, where a tall space near the entrance simplyserves as a hall. At Kansong Daegu, the large hall in the middle is currently used as a museum shop and resting area, but I think it has great potential as a venue for performances, concerts, or large-scale installations. We are waiting for an artist to come along and discover it! (laugh)

 

Pai: I agree that the plan and section belong to different worlds. At the same time, your work consistently coordinates the plan, section, and mass, rigorously adhering to the fundamental principles of modern architecture. Given that Park Seo-Bo’s metier is painting, I thought that the shape of most of the exhibition spaces was approached rather conservatively. Instead, you provided each gallery with a different ceiling height and proportion, with subtle variations in its relationship to the exterior space. As a response to the urban context, a sunken garden created by setting the building back 4m from the road becomes part of the gallery environment. These varied yet restrained spaces are revealed through a clear longitudinal section. From the outside, PARKSEOBO MUSEUM consists of three simple masses, while inside, plan and section are carefully interconnected and differentiated from floor to floor. At Kansong Daegu, organised in three tiers along the slope of the site, the atrium level ties the entire complex together. At SNU Library, the central staircase likewise connects multiple levels. In these aspects, the principles of layering, articulation, and integration are clearly expressed. (...)

 

 

 

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