Gangnam, Seoul, South Korea—elegantly dressed office workers pour out onto the streets, flanked [1] by coworkers to take their lunch break. Sleek, minimalistic interiors of high-rise buildings mirror the impeccable [2] getup and makeup of these workers, but a closer look betrays a hint of fatigue that layers of foundation could not conceal. Starbucks outlets and other upscale coffee shops are everywhere, supplying black blood to a city that never sleeps.
Seoul’s modern, cutting-edge image is a cherished symbol of South Korea’s first-world status. Today, the country is home to innovative tech giants and is one of the world’s largest economies in the world with a GDP per capita of $34,998. But bright neon signs, impressive buildings, and streets abuzz with well-dressed people are not the only markers of Seoul’s cityscape. There is another prominent yet less discussed feature: the apartments.
Almost identical-looking apartments cover Seoul and adjacent cities, so much so that when looked at from above, you can easily spot clusters of coiling dominos. These apartments are the legacy of the rapid, centralized economic development South Korea went through in the 60s and 70s, yet the country has not seen a lot of new demand for other forms of living. Their looks are nearly unchanged from the boom years—most are rectangular with a huge construction company logo or unit numbers stamped on the side. The buildings are housed in a guarded complex, where you typically find artificial streams, a playground, and overground and underground parking areas.
Despite the undeniable “communist feel” of these buildings that “resemble the buildings seen in some parts of Moscow,” as once described by a The Washington Post journalist, owning an apartment, especially one developed by a recognizable company, is a status symbol in South Korea. It is possible South Korea’s early developers who studied in the US were influenced by the boxy look of stand-alone suburban homes, but the country’s apartments have a uniquely homogenous look designed for convenience and not beauty. According to one judge who oversaw an annual contest to select the best apartment constructed within the previous year, copycatting is rampant [3] within the industry, with little incentive to innovate.
The apartments were initially designed and built by South Korea’s military leaders working in tandem with conglomerates who had considerable economic and political leeway granted by the regime to expedite growth. The apartments were designed primarily for convenience and cost-efficiency as the country was scrambling its way up after a devastating war that followed decades of colonial rule. But they were also a good propaganda tool, concrete proof of the government’s promise to improve living situations. These were times when people were tightening their belts and aspiring for higher education as their only ticket to a better life, and clean, convenient apartments were partial answers to their hopes.
But the oppressive look of apartments has gone unquestioned for a long time, longer than they deserve. A hallmark of Europe’s historical towns is their old, lop-sided buildings that add to the romantic feel by virtue of their irregularity. In Rouen, Normandy, France, for example, old buildings that tilt one way or the other, with uneven wooden beams, carvings with faces blown out, thatched roofs, cones, and curves, are what make the architectural environment appealing. Perhaps Seoul’s apartments represent South Korea’s focus on family life over community life, as each well-lit and clean unit contributes to domestic comfort while adding nothing more than a drab view from the outside. But placing oneself in a community designed with aesthetic principles—artistic living—satisfies a part of us that is often overlooked [4], despite being crucial to our humanity.
In Honfleur, a colorful and festive seaside commune in France, an onlooker of a beautifully-kept mansion pointed at its decorative finial and said, “Look, that’s a sign of wealth, slightly boastful, perhaps, but it’s beautiful. The decoration adds something to the community. And strangers who walk by get to reap the benefit—it’s a pleasure to behold.”