Seongsu — the Heartbeat of Korean Cool
Where Contradictions Collide to Create Korean Cool
Recently, Seongsu was ranked as the 4th coolest neighborhood in the world by Time Out magazine in the UK. Like its nickname “Seoul’s Brooklyn,” Seongsu is a very dynamic space with a strong industrial feel, full of interesting discoveries, where people with diverse life trajectories move busily with their own purposes.
This single photo well represents Seongsu.
In front of a car repair shop, one of the main industries based in Seongsu (along with handmade shoes and printing), sits a famous rooftop café that was once a supermarket and most recently a metal factory. This place has long been a popular spot for locals and tourists alike. Beside the indifferent office workers passing by, a mechanic is repairing a car without concern. In one corner, an elderly woman, who seems well past retirement age with her severely hunched back, is diligently carrying goods somewhere with her cart.
Seongsu is truly a special place. What makes it so special, I think, is its unpredictable nature and diversity. Things that logically shouldn’t be together are huddled together here as if it’s the most natural thing. Right next to a crumbling building, a strikingly contrasting pristine space appears. Turn the corner from a factory bustling with welders throwing sparks, and you’ll find pomade-slicked guards in sharp suits controlling the queue at a luxury brand flagship store. Is there another place like this in the world?
Usually, famous neighborhoods in cities tend to have consistency. London’s Regent Street and Carnaby Street are adjacent but have distinctly different atmospheres and spatial densities. Famous neighborhoods like Tokyo’s Ginza, Omotesando, Shimokitazawa, or Seoul’s Myeongdong, Bukchon, and Garosu-gil all have a consistency that encompasses them, which becomes their identity. The really interesting point is that in Seongsu, it’s very difficult to find such consistency. Perhaps the consistency of Seongsu is its consistent inconsistency. This always strikes me as very fresh.
Seongsu stimulates all senses — visual, olfactory, and auditory. As described above, it’s full of contradictions and unpredictability, making me anticipate what I’ll encounter around each corner. Visual stimulation aside, what about the olfactory and auditory aspects? You might see a long line of people from afar, and upon approaching, realize it’s a bakery famous for its salt bread. The distinctive savory butter aroma of salt bread vibrates through every nook and cranny of the alley. You can’t help but join the queue. As you exit that small intersection, the unique soap scent from a LUSH store washes over you, erasing all traces of salt bread, which somehow feels regrettable. Then a pop-up food truck is busily grilling hamburger patties. It’s overwhelming. What about the auditory experience? Seongsu basically has an elevated railway, so you regularly hear train sounds. Add to that the sound of machines running in factories. You can also hear children playing in nearby school playgrounds. At pop-up event spaces, hosts are enthusiastically gathering people. Delivery motorcycles and taxis honk their horns as they navigate streets primarily meant for pedestrians. Tourists fill in the sound gaps with their various languages.
As such, Seongsu is made up of stark contrasts. But Seongsu itself has strong color contrasts. Because it still has one of the few remaining elevated overpass in Seoul, the main streets of Seongsu are always shadowed even in broad daylight. Black and white. Old and new. Ruggedness and smoothness. Visible and invisible. Perhaps unknowingly, because of this shadow, the moment I arrive in Seongsu, my eyes and brain become accustomed to these contrasts before I do.
In my opinion, Seongsu most resembles South Korea itself. A country that achieved tremendous economic growth and became a center of world culture with soft power in less than half a century from the ruins of war. In that process, new things were created, disappeared, and recreated repeatedly, and places like Seongsu emerged. There was no luxury for long-term urban planning. They just did their best as things happened. As a result, something more interesting, more dynamic, and more original was born. This is what I consider to be “Korean Cool.”
