3·1 Building — Korea’s First Skyscraper and Its Miesian Legacy
From Steel Frames to Skyward Dreams: A Legacy Forged in Modernity
I studied architecture in university. My four years spent in Rome, Italy, preceding college, probably had the biggest influence on this choice.
When I was studying in Illinois, Frank Lloyd Wright and Le Corbusier were described as masters of modern architecture for the US and Europe respectively. Now I understand their work and worldview more deeply and can see why they’re considered great, but at the time, honestly, I wasn’t particularly impressed. Especially with Le Corbusier, I often wondered, “How do you even draft plans for this person’s designs?” As I often worked late into the night drawing plans and making mockups, I unconsciously began to prefer designs that were easy to model. The phrase “Form follows function” resonated with me more deeply due to my own needs. To someone like me, Mies van der Rohe’s saying “Less is more” was music to my ears. Those words seeped deep into my heart, and not just out of laziness, I genuinely came to respect and love his design style. This became the standard for my taste not just in architecture, but in aesthetics overall, and even a life philosophy.
Even now, I prefer Miesian or modernist style buildings. I admire the simplicity and integrity; there’s no intention to inject any ideology or message through the architectural space. Also, they are timeless and they fit in anywhere. In that sense, they’re environmentally friendly and human-oriented.
Among Mies’ buildings, the one I love most is the Seagram Building in New York. To my eyes, it’s still the most beautiful office building in New York, perhaps even in the world. This building was completed in 1958. I’ll say no more about it.
Now, moving on to the main topic of this article, I want to talk about Korea’s first skyscraper. As hinted in the article’s title, this building has Miesian qualities and similarities with the Seagram Building, but it also has some key differences and unique qualities, which makes it interesting.
This building is known as the 3·1 Building (pronounced ‘Sam-Il Building’ in Korean), named for its 31 floors. The number 3·1 also has special significance in Korea as it’s associated with the March 1st Movement. It was designed by Kim Chung-Up, a great Korean architect, and completed in 1970. It was Korea’s first high-rise building constructed using a steel frame and glass curtain wall method. It was the tallest building in Korea until the 63 Building was built in 1985. The building was expanded from the initial plan of 26 floors to 31 floors at the architect’s insistence. Along with the Cheonggye overpass, it had significant symbolic meaning representing Korea’s economic development and modernization.
It’s fascinating that Kim Chung-Up designed this building. Kim was the only Korean disciple of Le Corbusier, working in his Paris atelier for three years in the 1950s. He participated in major projects like the Chandigarh government complex, and after returning to Korea in 1956, Le Corbusier’s design philosophy became his identity, greatly influencing modern Korean style. You can easily see how profoundly Le Corbusier influenced his design philosophy in his representative works like the French Embassy in Korea or the main building of Jeju National University.
Isn’t it surprising that he designed such a Miesian building, completely contrary to his previous approach? This building was created as the first headquarters of the Sammi Group, an emerging conglomerate at the time. Sammi Group was entering the steel industry then, so they wanted the symbolic significance of Korea’s first skyscraper made by steel. They commissioned Kim Chung-Up, the top architect of the time.
Here, it’s important to note one crucial fact. While Kim Chung-Up and his contemporaries were influenced by Le Corbusier’s aesthetic, Le Corbusier’s style primarily relied on reinforced concrete structures. Concrete, being easy to mold, was widely used after World War II across the world to express national identity or ideology. It was also the most common and readily available construction method in Korea at that time. Building a high-rise structure with only curtain walls and steel frames, without concrete, was an architectural feat possible only in countries with an advanced technological foundation. In short, it was a style that couldn’t be done even if desired. The infrastructure didn’t exist. In fact, such buildings only became feasible in Korea once POSCO (Pohang Iron and Steel Company), established in 1968, had reached a level of production capacity and technological prowess to support such construction. The significance of the 3·1 Building lies not only in erecting such an edifice from scratch, assembling foreign materials and technology, but also in creating a complete work that inherits the DNA of the Seagram Building while adding its own unique color.
For the reasons mentioned above, when the initially 26-story building had to be raised to 31 floors, there was a height restriction of 110 meters. This meant the floor height had to be very low, which could visually conflict with the presence a high-rise building aims to give. Here, Kim Chung-Up found inspiration from Gothic architecture style, which emphasized verticality, to solve this design challenge. He created an effect of appearing taller by reducing the width of the windows, i.e., adjusting the proportions of the facade. While the Seagram Building’s curtain wall has a 1:2 ratio of width to height, the 3·1 Building has a 1:3 ratio similar to the nave of Gothic cathedral, clearly creating a visual effect of looking more elongated. This design choice provides another layer of meaning to the building’s name. Also, to accommodate the low floor height, holes were drilled in the beams to install ducts, which was a very innovative design decision from him.
Seagram Building (left) vs 3·1 Building (right): difference in window proportions
The 3·1 Building underwent renovation in 2020. The exterior design and concept maintained the original facade method and curtain wall system, preserving its unique proportional beauty and frontality. Inside, some of the existing frames were left intact, allowing the past and present to coexist. Personally, I think it’s a good example of renovation that Kim Chung-Up would have been quite satisfied with if he were alive.
I’d like to end with a point you might be curious about. How and by whom was the Miesian style continued in Korea afterwards?
Jong Soung Kimm came to Korea from the United States. He majored in architecture at the Illinois Institute of Technology and worked in Mies’ office for over 10 years, establishing himself as a true Miesian expert. From the Seoul Hilton Hotel to the more recent SK Seorin Building, he filled Seoul’s skyline with modernist masterpieces. Sadly, the Hilton Hotel, which opened in 1983, couldn’t withstand the impact of COVID-19 and was sold to an asset management company, which decided to demolish this architectural heritage. It’s an incredibly unfortunate reality.
The story of the 3·1 Building and its contemporaries is not just one of steel and glass, but of Korea’s aspirations, ingenuity, and relentless drive towards modernity — a legacy we must cherish and protect. As we bid farewell to architectural gems like the Seoul Hilton, we’re reminded that preserving our architectural heritage is not just about maintaining buildings, but about honoring the visionaries who shaped our skylines and our nation’s progress.
