Up to the Sky - Missing the Matrix, Seoul
PARNASS FILM GOES SEOUL
A report by Joachim Haupt and Sabine Pollmeier
In mid-April, 2011, we landed in Seoul for the first time. We had no idea what we would find there. South Korea is a country of which all Germans know but to which few of them travel. The products of Korean industry – TVs, mobile phones and other high-tech gadgets are ubiquitous in Germany. Unlike other Asian countries, however, such as Japan or China – let alone tourist destinations like Thailand and Vietnam – South Korea and her people are almost unknown in Germany.
Even the search for a guide book proved difficult. There is only one in German, admittedly a very good, basic guide to Seoul. But it was released by a self-publishing company. The author, a journalist, could find no publisher that wanted to publish his book. A guide to Seoul does not promise good business when the number of German tourists visiting Seoul privately each year is apparently just 15,000.
This only left us all the more curious as we landed in Incheon after 12 hours. An airport is always somewhat like a country's first calling card – in Incheon International Airport, Korea has produced an elegant, modern building in which exhausted travelers can quickly gather their bearings after a long flight.
We had booked a hotel in the city center, and soon found out that the airport is linked to almost all important downtown locations via a perfect bus system. People were very helpful, not just at the information booth – when we were waiting for the bus outside, employees came immediately up to us, took our luggage, asked us in broken English where we were going and took us directly to the right stop. We learned from the very beginning to appreciate the courtesy and helpfulness of Koreans, with which we would become so much more familiar over the coming weeks.
We arrived on a bleak, gray day in Seoul – the closer we came to the city center, the more endless rows of uniform apartment blocks appeared to our left and right. Rows of identical blocks lined up in rows, made distinguishable only by the large numbers painted on their sides. We had already arrived, faster than expected, in the middle of the story we wanted to tell in the film (more of this later). Something else struck us, too, as we looked out of the bus into the heavy traffic: why don't Koreans drive red cars? Are black, white and gray the only colors here?
Two years earlier, we had produced a series on modern high-rise buildings for European cultural channel ARTE. Titled Up to the Sky, the series introduced the most architecturally exciting skyscrapers built in recent years. Skyscrapers that have newly defined the form and appearance of high-rise buildings. The first three episodes had taken us to New York, Malmö and Barcelona – in these three cities, we introduced the Heart Tower, the Turning Torso and the Torre Agbar as pioneering new buildings by three European starchitects. We met Englishman Norman Foster (Hearst Tower), Spaniard Santiago Calatrava (Turning Torso) and Frenchman Jean Nouvel (Barcelona). Our three films were a hit on ARTE – now we had come to Korea to continue the series. Since 2008, Seoul has possessed the Boutique Monaco Building, a remarkable building that caused a sensation in international architectural circles. It was built by Seoul native Minsuk Cho, who also designed the South Korean pavilion at Shanghai Expo in 2010.
Already on the journey from the airport to the town center, we had recognized Cho's newest building: the S-Trenue Tower on Yeouido Island, with its curved silhouettes, has what it takes to become a new symbol for the city. In the banking and business district of Yeouido, it has already established itself as an unmistakable landmark.
We wanted to see Cho's most famous international building – Boutique Monaco – as soon as possible after our arrival. Located some 100 meters from the crossroads where Teheran-ro meets Gangnam-daero, his tower looms 116 meters tall. At first glance, the building shows how unusual it is. Bridges can be made out leading from one room to another within the same apartment; there are even gardens. In the middle of this densely populated city center, some of the occupants of Boutique Monaco enjoy the privilege of having a garden in their own apartment. Boutique Monaco, in addition, is an “officetel:” the apartments can be used as private residences or as offices, a combination unfortunately unheard of in Germany.
Now aged 45, Minsuk Cho began his architecture education in Seoul, continuing it later on in the United States. We met him the following day in his office in Itaewon. We discovered a very charming and engaging architect, who seemed full of enthusiasm for and totally absorbed by his work. Some 50 architects worked in his office, jammed together over three floors. Their workspaces were narrow and space was tight. “Itaewon has become really hip these days,” he told us. “When I came back from the US to Seoul 10 years ago, it still looked very different here. It was cheap, though – I began with one room and two employees and by now I've expanded to fill the whole building.” Proudly, he shows us a thick, recently published Swiss book. The title reads Asian Architecture; on the cover is a picture of Boutique Monaco. It was built with appearance in mind, but it also suggests possibilities for architecturally improving residential buildings in a metropolis. Seoul, like many Asian cities, has experienced a population explosion over the last 50 years for which there seemed to be only one answer: to build ever higher into the sky. We had already witnessed these endless apartment blocks on the way in from the airport – and there is no end to them. A large proportion of the city is built up with monotonous, architecturally unsophisticated and simple blocks. Welcome to the Apartment Republic of Korea.
Germany, too, has high-rise colonies of its own – in our country, they have only a modest reputation. They stand on the outskirts of cities and are inhabited by those from the weaker strata of society. In the former East Germany, in particular, the communist rulers let high-rise developments go up that are amazingly similar to those in Seoul. Here in Korea, though, everything is different. The middle and upper classes, we discover, love living in apartments. Apartments are expensive and in high demand. And all this in spite of their functional architecture, which seems to know no sense of aesthetics or beauty.
This European perspective is one-sided. We realize this when we visit Seoul Museum of History. The miniature model of the city here is the size of a tennis court. With a population of almost 22 million, Seoul easily surpasses every European city in size. Munich, our hometown, is Germany's most densely populated city. With 4.286 inhabitants per square kilometer, it feels empty in comparison to Seoul, where an average of 17.092 people occupy the area. Seoul has grown from two to 20 million inhabitants in 50 years. An immense social challenge. The city today is the result of an unprecedented building boom and the resolve of the city authorities. To create living space for everyone. Big, black and white photos in the museum show the inner city slums that still existed until the 1960s and the meager circumstances that prevailed in Seoul at the time. Creating living space, as becomes clear to us during the museum visit, took priority at the time over all other town-planning and aesthetic considerations.
Today, as a modern, industrialized nation, Korea faces completely new architectural challenges. How, in this densely populated city, can a type of architecture that can be produced regularly and in series – and which at the same time opens up new free space for its inhabitants – be created? In Boutique Monaco – or the Missing Matrix Building, as the architect prefers to call it – it is private gardens that retrieve a piece of nature and floor plans that are different in almost every apartment. The architect designed almost 125 different plans for 250 units. Individuality that earlier seemed impossible in an apartment block.
We want to tell many stories in our film. We don't want to introduce just the building, but also its environment and the city in which it was built. One must know the historical background of a city like Seoul in order to understand the architecture of a building like Boutique Monaco.
For a whole week, we travel constantly through the city in order to become familiar with it topography and history. The metro works outstandingly well, and the trains are more modern and comfortable than in our country. Only exact addresses are hard to find. But this, as we soon find out, is a problem faced by Koreans too. For a European, the Korean address system is difficult to understand. And hardly anybody speaks English. Using broken speech and often sign language, we fight our way through the city – all the Koreans we question are very polite and willing to help; unfortunately, most of them cannot understand us. Speaking English is not a natural thing in Seoul.
We do, however, meet camera operators and visit rental houses. A producer friend in Seoul has helped us out with names and addresses. We get the impression that the level of professionalism in Korea is very high. All the equipment we need is available. Far better than in Germany, admittedly, is the service offered by the rental houses. Nowhere in our country is open 24 hours, every day.
Six weeks later we are in Seoul again, this time for shooting. We work with a cameraman and a runner who doubles as an interpreter. The cameraman worked outstandingly, and filming was more simple and more relaxed than we ever imagined. That comes down again to Korean helpfulness and courtesy. We were able at short notice to organize things that would have needed days to arrange in Germany. Just two examples: almost overnight, we received permission from the police to block a traffic lane with a 45-meter crane and film for several hours. It was just as simple to obtain filming permits for the roofs of nearby skyscrapers from which we wanted to take panoramic shots of Boutique Monaco. A final example: our spontaneous decision to use a dolly was made easy for us by the rental house. Within two hours, the firm was able to deliver a dolly and rails; it came later to fetch it back.
Back in Germany, I am left with many personal impressions from Seoul. These include the abundance of coffee shops, in which Seoulites seem to spend more time than the Viennese do in cafés. And the enthusiasm for mobile phones. Everyone, truly everyone, seems to own one – on the metro, at least every other person is fully absorbed in his or her device. A true discovery was Korean cuisine. Luckily, nearly every restaurant had a menu with pictures, so that we weren't completely lost. Often, our neighbors on nearby tables helped us further, spontaneously letting us try their dishes and giving us recommendations. We are now familiar with kimchi and bibimbap and know the passion Koreans have for hot food. Sometimes, the food on our plates left our eyes streaming and pushed us to our very limits.
Our first time filming in Seoul was an experience we would not have wanted to miss. We came away with very positive and enriching impressions. We are already planning further projects in South Korea. For now, though, we are beginning post-production on our current film. All things considered, one mystery remains: why do no Koreans drive red cars?
A recent update from Joachim Haupt
Maybe an update might be interesting for you. In the meantime our documentary has had a premiere at the prestigious German Architecture Museum in Frankfurt and the film was broadcast about four weeks ago on Franco-German culture channel ARTE. It received excellent reviews and ratings.
Source: Seoul Film Commission SFC Report, Vol. 34