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Sung Jun
SungJun
Park
SUNG JUN PARK
.
MUL
MUL means “water” in Korean.
This work explores the inherently vulnerable nature of wood, a material that has been widely used throughout human life. Compared to other materials, wood is highly sensitive to humidity and temperature. While many furniture designers and architects attempt to control and minimize these characteristics, I chose to do the opposite—intentionally amplifying them through the use of water.
MUL is fundamentally designed as a bench, but its seat is constructed to allow water to flow across its surface. The seat is made of hinoki wood, which releases a distinctive fragrance when it absorbs moisture. As the water falls from top to bottom and circulates back through a pump, it also produces a continuous flowing sound.
Through this work, I aimed to reveal the temporality in which water—both the source of life and a force of decay—gradually transforms and deteriorates wood. By combining the scent emitted from the interaction between water and wood with the sound of flowing water, I sought to create a piece of furniture that heightens the viewer’s sensory experience.
This work explores the inherently vulnerable nature of wood, a material that has been widely used throughout human life. Compared to other materials, wood is highly sensitive to humidity and temperature. While many furniture designers and architects attempt to control and minimize these characteristics, I chose to do the opposite—intentionally amplifying them through the use of water.
MUL is fundamentally designed as a bench, but its seat is constructed to allow water to flow across its surface. The seat is made of hinoki wood, which releases a distinctive fragrance when it absorbs moisture. As the water falls from top to bottom and circulates back through a pump, it also produces a continuous flowing sound.
Through this work, I aimed to reveal the temporality in which water—both the source of life and a force of decay—gradually transforms and deteriorates wood. By combining the scent emitted from the interaction between water and wood with the sound of flowing water, I sought to create a piece of furniture that heightens the viewer’s sensory experience.
TTEOK
TTEOk means “rice cake” in Korean.
While studying weaving as a craft technique, I felt that its application in furniture has largely remained confined to flat, planar surfaces. To challenge this limitation, I attempted to elevate weaving into a more dimensional form by allowing it to extend and drape freely.
Materials such as rope or Danish cord weaving inherently lack the structural strength to maintain their form on their own, and therefore require a supporting frame. In this work, I boldly reinterpreted that frame as a circular structure, twisting its angle so that the woven surface can lean and depend on it.
The resulting form emerges from this interaction—where the flexible, gravity-driven nature of weaving meets a minimal yet unconventional frame, creating a suspended and sculptural presence.
In East Asia, making rice cake begins with cooking rice, then adding moisture and applying repeated impact to transform it into a cohesive mass. I drew this analogy because the process closely resembles the way a flat woven surface is elevated into a more dimensional form—through accumulation, pressure, and transformation.
While studying weaving as a craft technique, I felt that its application in furniture has largely remained confined to flat, planar surfaces. To challenge this limitation, I attempted to elevate weaving into a more dimensional form by allowing it to extend and drape freely.
Materials such as rope or Danish cord weaving inherently lack the structural strength to maintain their form on their own, and therefore require a supporting frame. In this work, I boldly reinterpreted that frame as a circular structure, twisting its angle so that the woven surface can lean and depend on it.
The resulting form emerges from this interaction—where the flexible, gravity-driven nature of weaving meets a minimal yet unconventional frame, creating a suspended and sculptural presence.
In East Asia, making rice cake begins with cooking rice, then adding moisture and applying repeated impact to transform it into a cohesive mass. I drew this analogy because the process closely resembles the way a flat woven surface is elevated into a more dimensional form—through accumulation, pressure, and transformation.
Canyon Land Scenery
While studying rattan weaving, I noticed that after soaking the rattan and completing the weaving, its natural elasticity caused the form to revert the next day. This often diminished the dynamic and playful shapes I had originally intended, which I found quite frustrating.
To address this, I developed a new approach by combining rattan with wire during the weaving process. The wire acts as a structural support, stabilizing the form and reducing the rattan’s tendency to spring back. This allows for more dynamic and expressive shapes to be maintained over time.
In this piece, the solid and weighty flow of the upper wooden mass is carried into the lower woven surface, which is void-like and lightweight. Through this contrast, I aimed to create a unified yet tension-filled composition that balances heaviness and lightness.
To address this, I developed a new approach by combining rattan with wire during the weaving process. The wire acts as a structural support, stabilizing the form and reducing the rattan’s tendency to spring back. This allows for more dynamic and expressive shapes to be maintained over time.
In this piece, the solid and weighty flow of the upper wooden mass is carried into the lower woven surface, which is void-like and lightweight. Through this contrast, I aimed to create a unified yet tension-filled composition that balances heaviness and lightness.
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