The View From Seoul: Korean poster design has a unique visual language – so why is it disappearing?
Our Seoul correspondent speaks to Jude Kang about the diminishing art form, and the archive he’s building to preserve it.
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Contrary to the prolific poster design output of Korean designers online, the presence of well-produced posters around Seoul is hard to find and quickly diminishing. Historically, printed posters in Seoul have existed in an awkward place between large fabric banners called 현수막(hyun-so mak), cheap glossy flyers slightly larger than A4 standard, and impressive A0 prints hanging in front of museums. Yet, Korean designers are incredibly talented in their poster design skills and I would argue that Korean posters have a unique visual vocabulary of their own. In thinking about the current state of poster design in Korea, I spoke to one local designer who has built a body of work around the format.
Jude Kang is a designer, researcher and publisher who has thought very deeply about posters and the infrastructure of posters for many years. His passion for posters began during his undergraduate studies, but really ignited during his time in Switzerland where he attended the Basel School of Design. From 2012 to 2014 he was immersed in the rich visual and technical sophistication of Swiss poster design. “[In Switzerland], most posters are silkscreened. Silkscreen has a very vivid and eye-catching effect and the large size of the posters in the street leave a strong impression. I realised that posters exist here in a very organic way, but that isn’t true just of Basel. If you go to Zurich there are posters, Lucerne there are posters, the same in St. Gallen. So, my interest in posters came naturally from that environment.”
One major observation that Kang noticed was the infrastructure of posting and producing posters that worked in concert with designers, commissioning cultural institutions and public space. He explains how the designers’ bid for an institution’s brand identity leads to a series of poster designs that manifest in a systematic display over a contracted period of time. Kang’s fascination with this unique program around poster design inspired the book Systems of Poster Series, a compendium of serial poster systems for museums. The project began from personal research Kang had been doing, and the book is an archive of designs from around the world including Korean designers An Mano, Jin & Park and Sulki & Min. The book is a product of another segment of Kang’s work, publishing.
Kang has been publishing Typozimmer, which will celebrate its tenth year, loosely as a “magazine” project. When asked to describe Typozimmer, Kang modestly describes it as a publication platform for his design interests, which happen to revolve around typography. The independent publication was also one of my earliest introductions to the Korean design scene when I first arrived in Seoul in 2016. I was able to read through several editions of Typozimmer, which were displayed as a part of a group show at the Doosung Paper Gallery in 서초동(Seocho-dong). I was intrigued by Kang’s rigid adherence to Swiss typography and in conversation learned how meaningful his studies at Basel were, where his obsession with posters began. One of Kang’s early projects after returning to Seoul in 2014 was Occupy the City, a poster showroom stocked with beautiful A0 posters (of course many of them from Switzerland).
Occupy the City opened in 2017 in 세운상가(Saewoon Arcade), which is in the 종로(Jongro) neighbourhood. The arcade itself holds historic design significance as it was the one of the first mixed-use buildings of its kind in Korea when constructed in 1968. The building is almost 1km in length and initially housed apartments at the top with small businesses on the bottom and street-level floors. Many of the early businesses were electronics repair and resale stores, which contributed to a long history of manufacturers and fabricators as residents. In recent years it has gone through plans for demolition to reconstruction, as several mayors have proposed various plans to rehabilitate the neighborhoods of central Seoul. It was in this historic building that Kang was able to rent a small space for a reasonable price and set up a small showroom and studio. The space was an incredibly novel project at the time, but Kang informed me that soon after he opened, several other shops began popping up. He credits this to savvy owners who began purchasing large A0 posters for their chic cafes. Over the years, Occupy the City grew as an archiving and curatorial collection and although the space is no longer open in its original capacity, Kang continues to collect and sell posters and collectible design books.
“By selling posters, I wanted people to learn that it is just a medium and one that can easily fit into everyday life, that [posters aren’t] an intimidating high art form.”
Jude Kang
The idea of a poster showroom is a risky business in most cities and when asked about his motivations, Kang shared a very heartfelt answer. “By selling posters, I wanted people to learn that it is just a medium and one that can easily fit into everyday life, that [posters aren’t] an intimidating high art form.” This is an admirable goal because the average Korean apartment, due to the heavy use of concrete and the high rate of residents turnover, is a very prohibitive dwelling to hang picture frames, let alone large posters. While speaking with Kang, I reflected on the growth of Korean print culture in recent years and I can see how Occupy the City contributed to this noble mission.
I asked Kang’s thoughts on Korean poster infrastructure. He confirmed my own observation, that print posters are pretty much extinct now. The only reliable area of the city where one may find designed posters is in the 대학로 (Daehak-ro) area, known for its live performance halls and small theatres. If you are in the neighborhood you can reliably spot a few dedicated stations for posters, but these too are becoming few and far between. Replying to my question, Kang showed me an image he likes to use in presentations these days. The slide is not of posters, but of people on the Seoul streets, heads down, hand held at half waist and faces awash in bluelight from their phones. He uses this slide to communicate that the real poster infrastructure of Korea now is the smartphone. This invites a level of irony to Kang’s most recent poster endeavor, the Korean Poster Wall.
While doing research on Korean design, Kang found there was no reliable archive of the many posters produced for many of Korea’s cultural institutions. To further complicate matters, finding the designers who designed these wonderful designs was incredibly difficult. It was during a visit to the 구본창의 항해 20231214-20240310 (Koo Bohnchang’s Voyages 20231214-20240310) exhibition, that he felt this particular pain as he was trying to find the designer of several posters featured in the photographer’s exhibition. He later learned that Koo, a photographer by trade, designed many of the posters himself, but the lack of attribution sparked a desire in Kang to fill this void. When asked why he thinks there is such a lack of information, Kang explains the different commissioning process of Korean institutions. Unlike Switzerland, Korean institutions must maintain a level of fairness in the design process, keeping curators from working exclusively with certain companies or designers. Even if a project is conceived as a series, unless the design is completed by the in-house team, such a contract cannot be made. The result is a variety of different styles and designers creating designs within the same institution. The trade-off for dynamism is a less reliable system of attribution and consistency. The Korean Poster Wall is an attempt to start cataloging the work that Korean designers create for the many cultural events across the country. Here I see a continuation of Kang’s systematic attraction to posters and a desire to find the logic he enjoys in Swiss poster infrastructure.
Although the project has only been going for several months, Kang has amassed a sizable archive. He and I reflected on the smartphone poster infrastructure of Korea and agreed on the irony of his passion for print. Yet, we both agreed that Korean designers have a unique acuity for poster design and there is a distinct voice that rises from the Korean approach to the medium. This, I believe, is one of the great merits of his archive. When asked which Korean designers he’s looking towards as really innovating Korean poster design today, he mentioned several studios who are introduced below.
Macadamia Oh is the pseudonym of a designer whose collective body of work combines poetic typography with a combination of digital and analogue illustration skills. Their poster work ranges from artist exhibitions to performances and even wine bars.
권수진 Kwon Suzin is a young designer whose recent poster work combines an interest and study of texture and found material. Her designs take these materials and arrange them into abstract form and typography, a technique that echoes designers Chris Ro and Paul Elliman.
Studio Remote is the working name for designers 강주성 Joosung Kang 김승환 Kim Seunghwan. Remote’s poster works have a looseness and improvisational quality that has a kinship to heta-uma and concrete poetry. I appreciate their fluid use of graphics, type and drawings that come together in free flowing compositions.
“Korean designers [are] innovating with form and motion techniques that are more native to the screen”
James Chae
I asked Kang to articulate why he chooses to show a slide of people on their phones, and he elaborated that printed posters are no longer part of an exhibition design project. Yet, designers are still asked to design posters. He observes how the medium has shifted from print to digital and for this reason he sees Korean designers innovating with form and motion techniques that are more native to the screen. Taking that into consideration, Kang’s personal tastes in poster design reflect his attraction to graphic form and developments in typographic rigour. To me, the growing range of poster forms created by Korean designers reflect the poster’s continued relevance for graphic designers as an expressive format of visual communication.
James zooms in on a particularly creative neighbourhood of Seoul, highlighting a few key places to pin, and an exhibition to check out.
- Factory2 is a staple venue for design, craft and art related exhibitions. The unique space in the 서촌 (Seochon) neighbourhood has been host to a diverse range of exhibitions, events and even markets. There is a continuous flow of exhibitions and it’s always worth a visit.
- Artspace Boan 1942 is another gallery space in the 서촌 (Seochon) neighbourhood located in a historic inn building. The space stages exhibitions in three different spaces, with the BoanYeogwan(inn) building being the most distinct. The “bones” of the space have been preserved in their original form and not converted into a white cube. The current exhibition 오리너구리와 유니콘 Platypuses and Unicorns featuring artists 김효진 Hyojin Kim, 백정기 Jungki Beak, 에린 존슨 Erin Johnson and 정혜정 Hae Jung Jung takes over all three spaces for an exciting experience.
- 서촌 (Seochon) is full of chic cafes and boutiques, but Reception is a new cafe that stands out for its tasty coffee brews and tasteful musical selection.
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James Chae is a Korean-American designer and educator based in Korea passionate about K-pop, design and music culture. He publishes Pudding Label, co-hosts Graphic Support Group Podcast, and directs Pudding Projects. He is It’s Nice That’s Seoul correspondent.