In my childhood, Hanok (traditional Korean houses) were as familiar and natural to me as apartments are to people today. Once a month, my father, an architect, would take me by the hand to visit cultural heritage sites across the country. The stories he told about ancient buildings, their unique characteristics, the massive wooden pillars, and the intricate curves of the eaves—all these elements unknowingly became the aesthetic roots of my soul.
When I grew up and became a carpenter working with wood, the first things that came to mind were, naturally, those familiar structures. Learning the details of Hanok directly from my father, I became deeply fascinated by the logic and proportions embedded within them. The orderly layering of the gongpo (bracket system) supporting the roof, the elegant curvature of the eaves, the clean lines of the windows, and the pathways carved out for the wind—all served as magnificent motifs for my furniture.
Rather than speaking grandly about "preserving tradition," I simply want to imbue my furniture with the cozy, natural feeling of the Hanok I grew up with. I aim to translate the sense of comfort I felt while listening to my father’s explanations into the work of my hands, creating a quiet, enduring landscape in someone else's space.
