Unujae aka M2house

 

The notion of “Korean architecture,” in many respects, can be understood as a subject that has largely receded from contemporary architectural discourse. It no longer commands broad attention, and there appears to be a tacit consensus that the resolution of such questions lies not in formal expression, but rather in an “abstract attitude.”

 

In contrast, Japan has persistently engaged in experimental reinterpretations of timber construction and gabled roof typologies. As a result, when contemporary architecture adopts such formal or material strategies with a certain level of refinement, it is often perceived as possessing a distinctly “Japanese” character. In this sense, it may be argued that many contemporary architectural approaches addressing the formal lineage of traditional architecture have, to a considerable degree, been subsumed under a Japanese architectural identity. Furthermore, the refined curvature characteristic of traditional Korean roof forms presents significant challenges when translated into modern construction materials and techniques.

 

This project originated from a clear and deliberate premise: the compulsory adoption of a pitched roof. This decision emerged from a sustained interest in the architectural role of eaves. Both in formal and functional terms, eaves are, in my view, indispensable within the Korean context. The geometric reduction of minimalist architecture—particularly in its elimination of eaves—does not adequately respond to Korea’s climatic and cultural conditions. In the case of a single-story dwelling, the introduction of a pitched roof that produces sufficient eaves represents a rational solution in terms of environmental performance, patterns of inhabitation, and long-term maintenance. At the same time, it constitutes one of the most archetypal formal expressions within the tradition.

 

The plan configuration, after exploring multiple alternatives and in close consultation with the client, was resolved as an L-shaped arrangement. This typology resonates with the spatial organization of traditional hanok, while also accommodating a programmatic distribution between private rooms and communal areas such as the living room, master bedroom, and terrace. Moreover, it effectively negotiates the relationship between the lower site entrance and the internal courtyard.

 

The principal challenge that followed lay in integrating the pitched roof into a coherent architectural whole. One of the primary reasons many contemporary architects avoid pitched roofs is that they tend to produce a perceptual and compositional disjunction between the roof and the building mass below, thereby weakening formal unity. This issue is particularly pronounced within minimalist architectural paradigms, where such hierarchical separation is often considered incompatible. (By contrast, in classical architecture, the tripartite division of base, body, and roof—analogous to legs, torso, and head—was regarded as entirely natural.) As an architect who is not entirely distant from such sensibilities, I found that a roof simply superimposed upon the structure, akin to a hat, resulted in an unconvincing composition.

 

The conceptual breakthrough emerged through a reconsideration of the pungpan in traditional Korean architecture. These elements, installed at the gable ends to protect against wind and rain, had long attracted my attention during visits to historical buildings. I elected to reinterpret the pungpan as an integral architectural device. Subsequent discussions with scholars of traditional architecture confirmed that the pungpan constitutes a distinctly Korean architectural element.

 

Along the approach from the street to the building entrance, a surface originating from the roof is continuously transformed into a vertical plane that extends to the ground, thereby articulating the boundary between the public domain and the private territory of the house. This spatial device is reiterated in the transition from the parking area to the courtyard. In this respect, it may be understood as analogous to the role of the gate in the spatial sequence of a traditional hanok. Formally, it also operates as a unifying element that consolidates the overall composition.

 

The deepened eaves generate a series of transitional spaces—both at the threshold preceding entry and between the courtyard and the interior. In previous projects, such spatial conditions remained largely aspirational due to regulatory constraints. Under current building codes, eaves extending more than 60 cm from the exterior wall centerline are classified as interior floor area. While this regulation is presumably intended to prevent unauthorized extensions and to control building coverage ratios, it arguably warrants reconsideration in light of Korea’s climatic conditions. The realization of this design was made possible by the client’s willingness to accept a permitted building area significantly exceeding the actual enclosed interior space, for which I remain deeply appreciative.

 

The interior was initially conceived as a space characterized by deep shadow and subdued illumination, reflecting a broader East Asian spatial sensibility. However, concerns expressed by both the client’s spouse and myself regarding excessive darkness led to a reconsideration, resulting in a brighter spatial atmosphere. Consequently, the interior achieves a soft and diffuse ambient light during the day without reliance on artificial lighting, although this quality is difficult to adequately capture in photographic representation.

 

The site accommodates two architectural works. One is a hanok designed by Professor Kim Wang-jik of Myongji University. Approximately fifteen years ago, the client had originally intended to construct a house based on my design, but instead elected to build the hanok first. The present project introduces a contemporary dwelling as a subsequent addition. Due to the client’s preference for a fast-track process, the design phase was completed within three months—significantly shorter than typical timelines—followed immediately by permitting and construction. As a result, the project was largely realized through on-site resolution, without the benefit of fully developed construction drawings.