Two Weeks in the Borrowed Landscape
Related: Bravo Your Life, some photo strips, and these b&ws on Flickr.
Pattern and Procession
While I tend to concentrate on texture and pattern, Korea expanded this fascination dramatically. The subtle patterning of walls, both by intention and decay, in Changdeokgung, Changgyeonggung, and Jongmyo shrine occupied most of my attention. Walking through the Jongmyo complex I started to understand the siting strategies of the various buildings which had remained a mystery for days. The ceremonial buildings I visited in Korea exhibited a kind of syncopated symmetry. At first it came off as sloppy or ad-hoc development, but with more observation I came to realize that this is the result of procession ruling the relationship between individual buildings in a complex instead of external form. Buildings are often not aligned to 'look right' from the outside, but to flow correctly when passing from one to another and to establish key views when rounding corners and approaching structures. Patterns by foot more than patterns by eye.
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Clean/good-enough/dirty/perfect
Writing about Seoul as "un-lapidated," Adam finds a way to classify the complex nature of craftsmanship in Korea, so far as I could gather in my short visit. What I noticed, and enjoyed, was a good-enough attitude that could be found everywhere from the relative uncleanliness of small streets in An-guk to the haphazard application of paper to window panes in the official palaces. At first it shocked me that such a treasure as Changdeokgung would not be treated with the utmost skill and expertise, but perhaps this is not a lack of skill as much as a lack of necessity. It's not dilapidation, it's not messed up, it's not imperfect because it never aspired to be perfect in the first place. It's a complicated situation, however, since any ride though Apgujeong or Cheongdam will show that there is a great pride and attempt to import the latest in international design trends with their attendant perfections. Steel and glass in beautiful alignment, concrete out of careful formwork, all lit to perfection with well dressed clients milling about.
From this series of observations a negative side of the international homogenization of design is revealed. Materials and techniques all have certain tolerances built in beyond which they start to harm the quality of a project more than contribute to it. Cultures too have tolerances built into their traditions and aesthetics. The intersection of 'good enough' and 'must be perfect' is not a pleasant one to observe but these gaps leave room-- hope-- for the development of a new design culture that addresses the fruits of international design in a local context.
Heyri & Paju
North of Seoul towards the DMZ are two new developments acting as showcases of contemporary Korean architecture. Originally built as a few publishing buildings, Paju has expanded into a sizable complex of corten, glass, and concrete buildings. Further north is Heyri, essentially a subdivision of live/work/exhibit accommodations for artists. Accurately described to me as "the best and worst of contemporary Korean architecture", it's an interesting place to visit for the sheer novelty of it as much as the architecture. In some sense it reminds me of The Houses at Sagaponac project in the Hamptons, but while that project is limping towards fruition, Heyri is being aggressively developed and claims to be having some sort of official opening this month. Currently many of the structures come off more as follies than buildings, but it may be unfair to judge until the landscape is converted away from construction wasteland. As of yet, the Dalki Themepark seems to be the most impressive building there. It's a kind of showroom/store for Korea's version of Strawberry shortcake and her friend Poo Man (don't ask). The space is diverse and complex without being overwhelming, a condition achieved by balancing architectural tactics with optical effects.
It's not the specific architecture that I like so much as the gestalt of the complex. Someone is dedicated to supporting the next generation of Korean architects and even if not totally successful in all attempts, at Heyri one sees the beginning of an expression of what could be called Korean architecture.
Beetle2 International Hyrdofoil
Busan is connected to Fukuoka by a 3 hour international ferry trip. From the looks of it this route is frequented mostly by japanese tourists looking for a cheap weekend in the relatively inexpensive Busan. Emerging from the overblown facade of Busan's train station the night before a strong wind blew across the plaza and I knew right away that the ferry ride would not escape the typhoon hovering off the coast. A hyrdofoil is essentially a boat that wants to fly, but is forced by two wings to remain at least connected with the water. The good thing about this is that it dampens the effect of the sea, but even still it can't fully neutralize the waves. The first few crests that we hit had the crowd cheering as if on a roller coaster. By thirty minutes into the ride people were leaving their seats to 'rest' near the front of the cabin. After forty five minutes the stewardesses had given up all hopes of a normal trip and armed themselves with bags of towels and wax-coated paper bags. I concentrated on the waves rolling at the height of the windows while trying to ignore the smell of vomit. Upon disembarking the passport official wanted to know, "why didn't you fly to Kansai with the rest of the tourists?"
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Water bottles in an alleyway... believed to keep cats away by scaring them with their own reflection.
Kyoto, Bikes, Kyouen
I'm glad that my visit to Kyoto was in the thick of summer: a trip in one of the more pivotal seasons may have been so beautiful as to be deadly. Although I did not partake on this visit, it's clear that the best and most efficient way to see the city is on bicycle. The Chinese street layout makes getting around quite simple and establishes both charming and eminently sad views down endless alleyways. The subway in Kyoto is mostly useless which leaves everyone on the busses-- nice enough, but lacking the immediacy of biking. Besides, everyone else is doing it; one cannot spend more than five minutes on a sidewalk in Kyoto without being passed by someone on a bike. They pass pedestrians with a charming whoosh of the humid air.
If you do take the bus, however, you're likely to end up at the Shijo bus terminal and thus also the Kyouen Rest Complex. In the heart of a city with such an important and present history it was charming to find an outpost of modern design that is sensitive to this great legacy. Kyouen is essentially a typical courtyard style house abstracted into an urban court of quiet. The four buildings are filled with the usual suspects of design shop, cafe, restaurants, etc so there are few, if any, programmatic surprises. Simply, the contrast between Kyouen and the city itself is a pleasant reminder that abstraction is not entirely a lost art.
By train, by foot
Although there was no backpack in sight on this trip, I did take advantage of the vaunted rail pass which allowed me to move around the islands of Japan rather freely for 7 days. The speed and efficiency of traveling by Shinkansen complimented nicely my intervening, rambling navigations by foot. Mostly in search of some specific buildings, I laid out a sort of rail/foot barcode of travel patterns that conveyed me through Fukuoka, Osaka, Awaji Island, Kyoto, Nara, Sendai, Tokyo, Kamakura, and Yokohama. Especially pleasant was my walk along the coastline of Awaji Island watching the typhoon skies roll in.
Inflight Amusement
From an Asiana Airlines guide to SF: "The clam chowder soup, a representative food of San Francisco, is the food made by cutting off the top of large bread like taking off a cap, putting short necked clams and cramming cream soup in there. Its savory fragrance is dainty and soft, adequate for breakfast."
--Posted 09/17/04 01:04AM