Na Kim recently became an artist represented by Kukje Gallery. Yet her day-to-day life as a designer remains unchanged. She is currently working on the exhibition catalogue for 《No Longer Objects》 at the Seoul Museum of Art and is scheduled to teach graphic design at KAIST every Friday starting in March.

She is also responsible for the spatial design of A-LAND's new store opening in New York this year, presenting Seoul's fashion scene in a new light, while preparing a wall installation for the children's museum at the request of The Bass in Miami. In between these commitments, she is preparing for a solo exhibition in Belgium in April.

What connects all these activities across different fields and disciplines is that they are all part of her practice as a designer. It would not be an exaggeration to describe the design work Na Kim has presented so far as an "attitude" in itself, one that expands the scope of a designer's work and role. Interview: Editor-in-Chief Jeon Eun-kyung; Text: Reporter Kim Minjeong; Photography: LESS


EK One thing that always comes up when discussing Na Kim as a designer is her background at KAIST. Graduating from a science and engineering university and going on to work as a graphic designer seems quite unusual in itself.

YN I had a vague desire to study something related to art. Since I attended a science high school, I couldn't apply to art schools that required practical examinations as part of their admissions process. As I looked into the options available to me, I naturally ended up entering the Department of Industrial Design at KAIST. During university, I gradually developed a clearer sense of what I liked.

For some reason, I found typography interesting, and even when we were making mock-ups in class, I paid more attention to designing the banners than the products themselves. (Laughs) I enjoyed working with visual materials much more. With product design, it takes a long time to go from the initial concept to an actual physical product. It also requires financial resources. In contrast, visual communication design allows you to try out ideas relatively quickly, and you can work independently. I think those aspects suited me well.


EK Your first job after graduation was at Ahn Graphics, wasn't it?

YN I was an intern there for quite a long time, but I never became a full-time employee. (Laughs) I hadn't studied graphic design at all before joining, so my senior colleagues had a lot to teach me, from scanning to using a Macintosh computer. Still, by the time I left, I was independently designing a separate program booklet for Asiana Airlines' in-flight magazine.

I'm not sure how the more senior managers evaluated my work, but my immediate seniors did compliment me on doing a good job. (Laughs) At the time, Ahn Sam-yeol was a manager there, and when he moved to a company called N4, he took me with him. I worked there producing corporate magazines for about a year before leaving to attend graduate school.


After completing a master's degree in Visual Communication Design at Hongik University, Na Kim entered Werkplaats Typografie (WT) in Arnhem, the Netherlands, in 2006. At the time, it was uncommon for Korean graphic designers to study in the Netherlands, so people around her were puzzled by her decision.

In fact, Kim spent an intensive month traveling to various institutions in Germany, Switzerland, and elsewhere in search of a school that appealed to her, but ultimately applied only to WT. She was drawn not only to its distinctive educational system and physical environment but also to the Dutch creative scene, where collaborations across graphic design, architecture, fashion, and other fields were actively encouraged.

Reflecting the Netherlands' emphasis on practicality, WT is known for its practice-based education without conventional courses. Students take on various projects commissioned through the school and carry them out individually. During Kim's time there, founder Karel Martens, along with Armand Mevis, Paul Elliman, and Maxine Kopsa, visited the school weekly to mentor students on their projects.

EK What was your experience at WT like? I'm curious about how it has influenced your work today.

YN It was a studio-like school, with individual desks in a shared workspace. When I attended, there were six students in each year. We worked whenever we wanted, cooked and ate together in the kitchen, and spent so much time together that we became like a family. In fact, at WT, we were never taught things like which typeface or line to use.

Instead, we learned how to develop a concept, how to approach a project, and what kind of attitude to bring to it. We also studied references, but the emphasis was on thinking about how to respond to particular situations or solve problems when they arose.

So if someone asks me what I studied there, I can't really point to a specific body of knowledge, but I had plenty of opportunities to think about the attitude I should bring to my future work as a designer. Skills can change, and you can learn new ones whenever necessary, but attitude is different. In that sense, the experience became an invaluable asset.


EK Around 2007–2008, there was something of a Dutch design boom in Korea. Of course, even defining exactly what Dutch design is could become quite complicated. Still, having studied and worked in the Netherlands, you must have developed your own perspective on Dutch design.

YN If you regard Dutch design as a particular style, you can talk about whether it's fashionable or not, but I think that's precisely where the biggest misunderstanding lies. I don't see it as something that can be categorized or distinguished by style, but rather as a kind of attitude. Dutch people tend to be frugal and are accustomed to making things happen on their own.

As a result, they place great value on functionality in every field. When designing, the idea is to achieve the desired outcome with minimal input. For example, techniques such as complex layering or overprinting, which are often regarded as characteristic elements of Dutch design, aren't decorative choices. They're decisions made to reduce printing costs or for other practical reasons.

As these approaches appeared repeatedly, people began to perceive them as a particular style. Even among Dutch designers themselves, there's the question of what exactly "Dutch design" is, but most seem to agree, to some extent, that it doesn't really exist as a clearly defined entity. Many of the designers who immediately come to mind when people mention "Dutch design" aren't even Dutch.

Rather, the term tends to evoke people working within a particular contemporary creative scene, especially those whose practices depart from traditional approaches to graphic design or employ a somewhat different design language. In fact, this is closely connected to the social environment in the Netherlands, where funding systems are well established and support in the arts and design extends not only to those who are already highly accomplished but also to those who show a certain degree of potential.

That's why so many artists and designers from abroad live and work in the Netherlands. Although I'm a foreigner myself, after graduating from WT, I was also able to support myself and continue working through government funding.

EK In 2008, the exhibition 《Starting From Zero》, celebrating the 10th anniversary of WT, was held at the Zero One Design Center. You not only participated in the exhibition but also organized it yourself, didn't you?

YN First-year students were relatively less experienced than second-year students, so they had fewer opportunities to take on projects. Unless we came up with our own assignments, we would end up with nothing to do, so initiating our own projects became a kind of training. I had a vague idea that it would be nice to present some of WT's work in an exhibition in Korea.

As it happened, the school was celebrating its 10th anniversary and had published a book to commemorate the occasion. Since there were no plans for an exhibition, I thought I should organize one in Korea and started looking into possible venues. That's when I was introduced to Helen Jungyeon Ku, who was working as a curator at the Zero One Design Center, and the exhibition came together.


EK You must have had an extraordinary ability to turn ideas into action, considering that you even secured funding for the exhibition.

YN I had no experience organizing exhibitions, but I simply thought it would be nice to show people what we were doing. WT wasn't well known in Korea at the time, so I felt the exhibition would be meaningful. I also thought it would be fun if all my classmates could come to Korea and spend time together. (Laughs)

More than anything, I suppose my time at WT had made it a habit to initiate and develop projects on my own. I approached it as my own project. We formed a team of students, discussed the idea with the school and received financial support, figured out which works we could bring, and even installed the exhibition ourselves. The whole process was very autonomous and enjoyable.


EK I heard that Issue 9 of the quarterly magazine GRAPHIC, devoted to Werkplaats Typografie, was produced as a result of this exhibition.

YN Editor-in-Chief Kim Kwang-cheol contacted me after seeing the exhibition. He suggested making a new issue of GRAPHIC as something like a catalogue for 《Starting From Zero》. Rather than simply documenting the exhibition as it was, I thought it would be better to approach it differently, so I returned to the Netherlands and developed new content with my classmates. After that, I continued working as an editor and art director for GRAPHIC for three years.


In 2011, the theme of Issue 17 of the quarterly magazine GRAPHIC, conceived by Na Kim together with Lim Kyung yong and Helen Jungyeon Ku of mediabus, was "When Design Becomes an Attitude." Conveying the message that "the boundaries of design and the role of designers can expand when design becomes an attitude," the issue also reflected the trajectory of Kim's own practice.

It was precisely her attitude as a designer that enabled her to broaden the scope of her work, independently organizing exhibitions and taking responsibility not only for design but also for planning and editing. Today, many designers use graphic design as a platform for distributing content and presenting diverse projects, but at the time, questions were still being raised within Korea's graphic design community, such as, "How should the graphic design field view designers working in other disciplines?"

When asked which designer had particularly influenced her, Kim named Karel Martens, explaining that he had prompted her to think about the importance of attitude. Yet what became even more striking during our conversation was Kim's ability to turn ideas into action. Her response to this observation was simple: "I tend to just give things a try and jump right in. If that's part of my personality, I guess I should be grateful for it. (Laughs)"

EK So was all the work on GRAPHIC done in the Netherlands? You were involved not only as an art director but also in planning and editing the content.

YN Yes. I worked on the magazine until Issue 24, ‘A Subjective Amsterdam Tour Guide,’ before returning to Korea in 2012. Since much of the content was based in Europe, I naturally became involved in planning the issues as well. We started publishing bilingual Korean-English editions with the ‘Werkplaats Typografie’ issue, which meant we also needed to sell the magazine in Europe and the United States.

So I took copies to several bookstores myself, and that's when I noticed the small independent publications they were selling. I immediately thought this was something we had to explore, which led me to develop the ‘Self-Publishing’ issue (Issue 10). Other issues, such as ‘Printing Journal’ (Issue 15), which explored four printing houses in the Netherlands, and ‘What Makes a Beautiful Book? The Best Book Competition Issue’ (Issue 19), dealt with subjects that I was personally interested in but hadn't seen covered in publications, even though they seemed like topics that should have been explored before.

After all, you do your best work when you're talking about something that genuinely interests you. When you investigate a subject deeply, you often discover unexpected connections to contemporary trends and issues. When we were producing ‘A Subjective Amsterdam Tour Guide,’ funding for the Dutch cultural sector had been cut by around 50 percent, prompting many foreign designers and artists to leave the country. So we were naturally able to address that situation as well. I think it's important to find meaningful ways to connect your personal interests with issues you consider relevant at the time.


EK I felt that GRAPHIC changed significantly after you became involved, from the selection of themes to the ways they were interpreted and the formats used to present them.

YN I think the important thing is that the editor-in-chief barely gets involved. (Laughs) When designers are trusted to decide how to interpret and present content, something new can emerge. If I had to choose the most memorable issue, it would be ‘Type Archive’ (Issue 16). The planning began with a visual image that immediately came to mind when I thought about the design.

I imagined presenting the letters that designers were particularly fond of, one large character per page, so that even their smallest details and distinctive features could be clearly seen. We created a type specimen book, while examples and interviews were produced as a separate volume. I think the issue was meaningful because it began with a visual design idea, developed into an editorial concept, and ultimately took shape as an experimental publication, incorporating elements such as spiral binding.


After returning to Seoul in 2012, Na Kim participated in the exhibition 《Life: A User's Manual》 at Culture Station Seoul 284. Her work, Temporary Studio, was a kind of performance in which the designer exhibited herself at work. Having just returned to Korea and needing a studio, she actually worked in the museum while simultaneously presenting her practice as an exhibition.

Looking back, there has always been something distinctive about Kim's exhibitions. Beyond challenging the assumption that graphic designers work exclusively in two dimensions, she has demonstrated an unusual ability to structure content and command exhibition spaces.

Although Kim says that she always approaches her projects by focusing on what a designer can communicate, her attitude is markedly different from the conventional ways designers tend to engage with museums. Conversely, from the museum's perspective, her approach is equally unconventional, as she develops her work by considering questions such as "What does this space need?" and "What is the curator looking for?"

EK These days, you're often referred to as an artist as well as a designer. People also frequently describe your work with phrases like "crossing the boundaries between art and design." (Laughs) How do you see yourself?

YN I don't think just anyone can become an artist. I've realized that artists and designers have fundamentally different ways of thinking. Of course, designers sometimes think like artists, and artists sometimes think like designers, so there are certainly areas where the two overlap. But their fundamental starting points and the nature of the driving forces that sustain their practices are different.

Although I exhibit in galleries, I'm still using design methodologies, and I think the art world finds my work refreshing precisely because it can be interpreted differently within that context. In any case, I've always considered myself a designer, and I believe that whatever I do, I'm doing it as a designer.


EK In 2013, you received the DOOSAN Yonkang Arts Award and subsequently became an artist-in-residence at DOOSAN Residency New York.

YN To be honest, I was in a panic at the time. (Laughs) I hadn't thought much of it before, but when the art world suddenly decided to recognize my work with an award, I started wondering why. On the other hand, some people at the core of the art world considered my work interesting and new, but also somewhat ambiguous as contemporary art. At the time, I wondered why my work wasn't being taken seriously.

But then again, everyone has different ideas about what constitutes seriousness. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that the fact that I was working as a designer, using the language of design, was itself something the art world found meaningful.

I think what interested them was my background, how I had developed my practice, and what could emerge when I applied my own methodologies in a different context. It was my first time visiting New York, and, well... I remember thinking that I would have to come back again. (Laughs) It was also my first residency experience, and it was a positive one.


EK You seem quite open to experimenting with new formats. Which exhibition stands out most in your memory?

YN My approach to exhibitions isn't particularly different from the way I approach other projects. My solo exhibition at DOOSAN Gallery New York was a kind of self-introduction, an opportunity to show what I do, but I didn't want to simply present my portfolio. So I started thinking about what I do best and decided to gather my work from 2006 to 2015 into a book titled SET.

It was a kind of sample book in which I removed all the original contexts from my previous work, leaving only colors and basic geometric shapes, which were then organized into categories. The book was designed by Joris Kritis, a Belgian designer who had studied with me at WT. The exhibition subsequently emerged from presenting the contents of SET in a spatial form.

I divided the entire exhibition space according to the number of pages in the book, layered the compositions, and translated the graphics from each page into murals. But then I realized that the arrangement of the pages could change depending on the space. The composition could also vary according to which pages were selected from the collection and how they were grouped.

That's when I decided to develop it into a series. Since then, I've presented the work at Daegu Art Museum, a gallery at the Institut Supérieur des Beaux-Arts de Besançon in France, and Kukje Gallery in Seoul, among other venues. Last year, I also collaborated with COM to create an installation for the Valley Rock Music & Arts Festival.

EK A sample book—that certainly sounds like an efficient approach that could only come from a designer's way of thinking.

YN It wasn't intentional, but color, circles, patterns, and symbols are all major elements in my work. Once you remove the original contexts, the work can function like a sample book. On the other hand, because I remember every project I've worked on, looking through SET also feels a bit like reading a diary. I think that duality is interesting.

Last year, Kukje Gallery was organizing a showcase exhibition and needed a cube that visitors could sit on and rest, so I selected two pages from SET and used them to design the front and back of the cube. Since the installation can be divided into four sections, each section can also function as an individual canvas. Archiving is actually an important part of my practice, but murals disappear once an exhibition ends, so I'm thinking of experimenting with different ways of adapting the work like this.


EK Unlike group exhibitions or exhibitions organized around a particular theme, solo exhibitions don't really impose any restrictions. Does your attitude or mindset change when approaching a solo exhibition?

YN That's precisely when I start wondering what my artistic practice is really about. (Laughs) I struggled with that question quite a bit when preparing my solo exhibition at Gallery Factory in 2011. I didn't want to put on a portfolio exhibition, but I also didn't want to create something so inaccessible that audiences couldn't engage with it.

So, while thinking about how to present my work, I essentially invented my own client's needs. (Laughs) What gave me a clue was the way I had presented my work at the Triennale Design Museum in Milan. Rather than simply displaying my portfolio, I arranged and composed various works so that as much of my archive as possible could be captured in a single photograph, which was then installed as a mural.

It was both a group portrait of my past works and a new visual composition. That exhibition gave me the idea that particular works and memories from the past could become elements of a larger picture, which eventually led me to create works such as Self-Portrait. Each individual piece had a different design, but when brought together, they formed a coherent whole, like a completed cube puzzle. I think it was a way of telling my own story with a certain degree of freedom while remaining true to my identity as a graphic designer.


EK How do you usually decide on the concepts or themes for your personal projects?

YN Rather than suddenly deciding one day that I want to organize an exhibition or make a book and then choosing a theme, I think I inevitably find myself addressing things that feel necessary at a particular moment or subjects that I think are worth discussing. What's really important is the ability to put ideas into action.

When you're considering trying something, you inevitably start asking yourself, "Is this even possible?" "What's the point of doing this?" or "Will it have any real significance?" Sometimes it even feels like something you've already seen somewhere before. But once you actually do it, it often turns out to be less conventional than you expected.

New meanings that you hadn't anticipated can emerge, and it's almost as if the projects begin to grow on their own. I've felt this particularly strongly while working in the art world. Rather than being concerned with the authority or solemnity of the white cube, I'm more interested in the unexpected responses that arise within it and the new things they allow me to observe. Those experiences then become a form of feedback that prompts me to reconsider my work.

EK In addition to exhibiting your work, you also helped run Common Center, an art exhibition space, didn't you?

YN Sometimes, the existence of a particular space makes things happen that had never happened before. I've always been interested in spaces for this very reason, which is why I became a member of the steering committee. Eventually, as more new art spaces began to emerge, we felt that Common Center no longer served the same purpose, so we closed it.

Since Common Center occupied an old commercial building in its original condition, the space offered many possibilities for interpretation. I was preparing the inaugural exhibition with artist Lee Eunwoo while also serving as the art director, so establishing a platform was important. The space was practically in ruins, so we needed more than just a logotype or visual identity applications.

We needed some basic furnishings and infrastructure, and the challenge was how to incorporate those elements into the exhibition itself. In the end, we adopted the idea of squatting and visited several museums where exhibitions had already ended, collecting discarded furniture, fixtures, and other objects.

We then applied Common Center's visual identity to these items so they could become part of the interior. I think both Common Center itself and the exhibitions held there gradually acquired additional layers of meaning over time, depending on how people interpreted them. As different users brought different layers of content into the space, its meaning continued to change. At some point, it almost seemed as though the space had begun generating its own meanings.


The sign from Common Center, which closed in January 2016, is now used as a lighting fixture at Na Kim's studio, Table Union, in Buam-dong. Table Union is a design studio that Kim established in 2012 after returning to Korea from Amsterdam. Its name reflects her intention to create a platform for diverse activities, much like the various things that can take place around a table.

Currently working with designer Yang Minyoung, Kim also collaborates with various other members, both independently and collectively, maintaining Table Union as a loosely structured collaborative community. Looking back at Kim's work, collaborators have always played an important role. Projects such as the quarterly magazine GRAPHIC, Common Center, which she operated with fellow designers and artists, and the planning of Typojanchi 2013 served as catalysts for expanding the scope of her activities and demonstrating her diverse capabilities as a designer.

In particular, her relationship with Helen Jungyeon Ku and Lim Kyung yong of mediabus began with 《Starting From Zero》 and continued through her work designing the logo and overseeing the art direction for The Book Society, which they operate. She also presented An Incomplete List with COM in the exhibition 《Graphic Design, 2005–2015, Seoul》.

Photographer Less, who worked on the interview and cover shoot, has also collaborated with Kim on various projects, including the publication COS × Seoul, produced to celebrate the Korean launch of COS in 2014. On the day of the shoot, Kim arrived with her already short hair cut even shorter, brought out several brightly colored outfits, and discussed the concept with Less.

The music that filled the studio throughout the shoot was personally selected by Kim and perfectly complemented the atmosphere. Kim, who also has a strong interest in DJing, shared the following playlist recommendations with readers of the monthly magazine DESIGN.

Solitude – M83 / Junk

Solitude, from M83's album 《Junk》, which I've been listening to on repeat ever since I discovered it recently, is the perfect song for a late-night drive.

Film 2 – Grauzone / 1980–1982

I discovered Grauzone through the historic Dutch design collective Wild Plakken. The fact that they were a Swiss punk band from the 1980s is fascinating in itself. Of their songs, Film 2 is undoubtedly one of the coolest, and its music video is not to be missed.

Edge Hill – Groove Armada / Goodbye Country: Hello Nightclub

For about 15 years, this has been my number-one choice of music to listen to while lying in bed. That has never changed.

First Love – Uffie / Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans

A lovely song that I really enjoyed playing when I tried DJing for the first time at the invitation of Byul.org.

Perm – Bruno Mars / 24K Magic

When you need some excitement and sexiness, he's the best.

EK Your personal style is immediately recognizable, from your consistently short haircut to your structured clothing and bold colors. I imagine you have particular brands you like and a very distinct sense of taste.

YN Rather than sticking to specific brands, I tend to buy things from secondhand shops. I also like buying new things and making them look old, but fundamentally, I've always liked secondhand items. Sometimes friends give me things, too. As I collect and combine these different pieces, I think they end up being perceived as a particular style. I did cut my hair even shorter for this photo shoot, but I've always found short hair comfortable, so I generally keep it this way.


EK What's the most recent thing you bought?

YN Hmm... Oh, right. I bought a wig yesterday. (Laughs) I already have a long-haired wig, but this time I bought a bob.


EK (Laughing together) Do you actually go out wearing wigs?

YN Occasionally. (Laughs) You can suddenly cut your hair short, but you can't suddenly grow it long. Since my hair is always short, I sometimes wear wigs just for fun. Most recently, I wore one when I was DJing with Byul.org on the day Prince died. I've tried DJing once or twice, but I definitely don't have any particular technical skills. I would like to learn properly, though.


EK What does a typical day look like for you? I'm curious about what you do when you're not working.

YN During the day, I usually have meetings or take care of various tasks, and I work on my projects at night. So I don't really have much time to rest. I come to the studio almost every weekend and work late into the night, which isn't exactly a healthy lifestyle. (Laughs) But when I'm working on something, I don't necessarily think of it as work, so the distinction between working and having fun becomes rather blurred. I think I should make a conscious effort to take time off and travel somewhere, even if it's just a short trip nearby.


EK What's been on your mind the most lately?

YN Balance. There have been times when I felt that my professional design work was interfering with my artistic practice, or vice versa. I thought that if I couldn't do either properly, I would eventually have to choose between the two: either declare that I would focus exclusively on design from then on, or establish myself as an artist and concentrate solely on making art.

I thought it might be a decision I would have to make someday, even if not immediately. But after my exhibition at Kukje Gallery last year, I participated in an artist talk with art critic Kim Sung-won and Song Bo-young, a director at Kukje Gallery, and it made me reconsider things. Kim Sung-won's comments were particularly helpful. Essentially, the point was that my presence in a museum as a designer was itself important.

What makes my work meaningful is being able to explain, from a designer's perspective, how I've approached projects, where I've found the starting points, and how I've developed my ideas. If I had come from a fine arts background, my work would have been interpreted differently. In other words, I realized that I should simply keep doing what I've always done. (Laughs) I no longer feel the need to distinguish between my professional work and my artistic practice, although I do think I need to develop different ways of thinking about them.


EK Without any precedents to follow, I imagine you must have felt uncertain at almost every stage.

YN Looking back, I've always been in that position. I wanted to attend an arts high school, but I ended up going to a science high school. Even at university, I had something of an outsider image that didn't quite fit in with the engineering crowd. But then, when I studied visual communication design at Hongik University, I seemed like an engineering geek. (Laughs)

During my time in Europe, I couldn't really become part of the mainstream because I was an Asian woman. I suppose I've always felt that I was on the periphery. But strangely enough, I think that's actually made me feel freer. Having precedents to refer to might make things a little easier, but if there aren't any, you're free to approach things however you like.

As much as possible, I don't want to burden myself with too much responsibility. Otherwise, I might start taking myself too seriously and become weighed down by it all. I think that if I simply continue doing what I believe in, consistently and steadily, the results will eventually follow.


EK From what I've seen, many women designers and female design students look up to you as a role model.

YN Well, that's another thing that makes me feel a bit weighed down. (Laughs) Whether I want it or not, once I've reached a certain position or level of recognition and people begin to regard me as an opinion leader, I can't completely ignore what that means. It requires a certain sense of responsibility and thoughtfulness about how I act. But at the same time, I don't think I need to live my life constrained by those expectations. As with my work, I suppose it's a matter of finding the right balance in different aspects of life.


EK Last year, you participated as an interviewee in the book Korea, Women, Graphic Designers 11, didn't you? You're also a founding member of Woo, a policy research group for women designers.

YN For me, 2016 was an important year in which various events significantly changed my values and perspectives. As I mentioned in the book, I had been fortunate enough to live in an environment where I didn't feel the need to be particularly conscious of my gender as a woman. But just because I was lucky enough not to experience certain things myself doesn't mean I can assume that everyone else has had the same experience.

I came to realize that inequality and injustice had always existed, even if I hadn't personally noticed them. Once I became aware of that, I felt that continuing to live as though nothing were wrong would be dishonest. In the past, I sometimes wondered why certain younger women designers, whom I knew only by face, weren't producing much work.

But from their perspective, they simply hadn't been given opportunities to present their work. When I looked at the photographers, publishing planners, and installation artists I frequently collaborated with, I realized that most of them were men as well. So I've been thinking about what it might be like to deliberately initiate projects involving only women.

As for my involvement with Woo, I initially joined a feminist study group because I wanted to educate myself. I've also been working with designers Lee Jae-won, Shin Hae-ok, and Choi Seul-gi to research policy examples from Korea and abroad, and we're currently planning an exhibition related to that research for this year.


EK Looking ahead, are there any projects you particularly want to undertake or goals you hope to achieve as a designer?

YN I'd like to design things that are more closely connected to everyday life, things people encounter and use on a daily basis, like clothing or houses. As a designer, my hope is probably the same as that of many others: to continue designing even as I grow older.

As long as I don't become exhausted and still have the energy, I think that should be possible. It doesn't necessarily have to involve commissions from clients. As I mentioned earlier, I'd like to keep making things in a way that feels more like playing than working. After all, all I really need to do is continue what I've always been doing.

References

• [인터뷰] 디자인이 태도가 될 때
  [Interview] When Design Becomes an Attitude