Chapter 32. The Korea Architecture Competition
“What? The grand prize at the Korea Architecture Competition?”
The Korea Architecture Competition.
It was Korea’s premier architecture competition, one that boasted history and tradition since it first began in 1982 under the sponsorship of the Korea Institute of Architects.
It was a stage where individuals could fully display their architectural ability, and not only university students but also high school students and ordinary people interested in architecture could take part.
At the time, it drew enormous attention. The winning works were published in books every year, and they were even exhibited at the Seoul Arts Center.
Of course, from the 2010s onward, with file transfers becoming easy and smartphones making it possible to look up information from anywhere, large-scale international competitions would increase.
But back in the 2000s, the Korea Architecture Competition was no different from a nationwide mock exam.
Every university student across the country prepared submissions when architecture competition season approached. Most schools even ran their second-semester design studio classes around producing works to submit to the competition.
Why?
Because if a student had even one line about winning an award at the architecture competition on their resume, it helped whether they were applying for jobs or studying abroad. And if they received guidance from a professor, at the very least, their work was unlikely to go completely off course.
With prominent architects serving as judges, it was also a good opportunity to test the level of one’s own architectural understanding, even if one did not necessarily win a prize.
In short, winning the grand prize at that year’s architecture competition was the same as being able to certify, “I am the best architecture student of the year.”
Division 7 knew how outstanding Geonshin’s skills were. Even so, being chosen as a winner among hundreds of works was not something that happened simply because someone was good.
Moreover, students from the top prestigious universities were also submitting works under the guidance of their professors.
Winning some prize might be one thing, but saying he would win the grand prize felt like an extremely bold ambition.
Even Team Leader Mo himself had only managed to win the Excellence Award when he had participated during his university days.
President Kang gave a strange smile.
“You’ll win the grand prize at the architecture competition… Well, with that much, I suppose the final interviewees won’t complain. But I’m not sure whether it’s possible. Surely you’re not thinking of getting help from the people here in Division 7, are you?”
After his regression, Geonshin had not wanted to waste time laundering his academic background because he already knew that his ability surpassed the level of domestic architects. But that was only something Geonshin himself knew.
In order to show that ability to others, he needed achievements to match. This was also one of the reasons he wanted to enter Yeongjo Architecture.
And now that this opportunity had come to him, there was no need to take the long way around.
What better justification could there be than the grand prize at the Korea Architecture Competition?
Just as Pritzker Prize winner Tadao Ando, a former boxer who had only graduated high school, had his non-elite background turned into a dramatic story, Geonshin judged that instead of hiding his current situation, it would draw sympathy if he turned it into an element of overcoming hardship.
After all, people sometimes want to be inspired by stories of people who overcame adversity.
“But Geonshin, there isn’t much time left before registration closes. Will you be all right? If you have to make the panels and the model starting now, you’ll be short on time. Very short…”
Assistant Manager Soomin had also challenged the architecture competition tirelessly, so she knew very well just how difficult it was to win the grand prize.
As expected, the biggest problem was the lack of time. The panels were an issue, but he also had to make a model measuring around 90 centimeters in width, length, and height. With less than two weeks left, doing all of that alone was nearly impossible.
Usually, when students at school submitted a single work, it was such difficult work that as many as five people might have to cling to it and help with the model-making.
Just as Assistant Manager Soomin was expressing her concern, Team Leader Mo opened his mouth.
“It’s the method Geonshin chose, so let’s do it that way.”
“Seungjin. Will that be all right? This isn’t just anything. It’s the grand prize at the architecture competition. And you said there isn’t much time left.”
“Geonshin will take care of that himself.”
Team Leader Mo’s tone sounded cold at first glance. But Geonshin could read the trust hidden inside it.
The belief that, since this guy had stepped forward and said he would do it first, there was no way he would fail.
And even the belief that, even if an unexpected situation arose, Geonshin would be able to handle it well.
And perhaps it was just as he expected.
Team Leader Mo’s heart was filled half with worry and half with relief.
At this point in time, the person who knew Geonshin’s abilities best was Team Leader Mo. He sometimes got angry and pointed things out, but that was only because of his work style.
He had not the slightest doubt about Geonshin’s skill.
Only two weeks left? At the Science and Technology Institute, and again during the Gwangseong University project, Geonshin had taken less than three days to bring in a model.
His quick hands were unfamiliar even to Mo Seungjin, who had long experience in the industry.
On top of that, he had modeling ability that surpassed professional firms, along with creative ideas whose origin was impossible to guess. He was on the level of a one-man architecture firm.
If Geonshin could not win the grand prize, then who on earth would?
The only thing he was worried about was President Kang.
That sly old snake was capable of anything if it served his own interests. This case was no different. Team Leader Mo was certain that President Kang would use Geonshin to do whatever he wanted.
Right now, he seemed to be looking down on him, thinking, How could a junior college student possibly win the grand prize and dare to enter Yeongjo Architecture?
But what if Geonshin pulled all of it off right before his eyes?
President Kang would surely stick him into his direct unit and work him like a slave.
After all, Team Leader Mo himself had actually gone through that.
President Kang spoke with a subtle smile.
“Then let’s settle the promise that way.”
Geonshin was also aware of Team Leader Mo’s concern. But despite Team Leader Mo’s worries, Na Geonshin was a regressor with far too many cards in his hand to be afraid of something like this.
He knew the entire future. He possessed the blueprints for every work that would be built in the future. And through his skill, even tasks he had never tried before could be completed with perfect mastery.
What could there possibly be for him to fear?
Besides, Team Leader Mo might be worried about Geonshin because he thought that, although he had ability, he still lacked experience in society.
But…
‘If you add my original age, I’m old enough to be your older brother.’
After rolling around in this field for so many years, how could he fail to read President Kang’s shallow scheme?
What Geonshin was looking at was not some simple matter of luck.
What he was worried about was something in the slightly distant future.
If history proceeded as it originally had, President Kang would definitely no longer be at Yeongjo Architecture a few years later. After that, the company would enter a strange ending, plummeting straight down into ruin.
Geonshin thought.
After his regression, he had won an order for a connecting bridge that had never been planned. Because of that, the incident involving Assistant Manager Soomin’s leaked proposal had ended up happening.
From there, through an unexpected deal with President Kang, the Gwangseong University design competition, which had seemed impossible, had been snatched up and won.
If Geonshin had not regressed, the people of the Korea Science Research Institute would have crossed an ordinary connecting bridge, and the Gwangseong University athletic field would have disappeared because of Mirim Architecture’s large, flashy sports center.
There was no doubt that the history of architecture had begun to change little by little because of Geonshin. Geonshin could not predict what kind of results that would bring, but he could be certain of one thing.
Everything that happened from now on would be directly or indirectly influenced by him.
And perhaps that direction might change depending on what Geonshin intended.
And now, another incident that had not actually occurred in Yeongjo Architecture’s history was gradually approaching: the entrance exam of Na Geonshin, the junior college student.
It was impossible to know what results this change would bring to Yeongjo Architecture’s future. But Geonshin made up his mind.
Now that he had regressed, he would not simply stand by and watch Yeongjo Architecture collapse.
And so the night of the company dinner deepened.
Gyehwa Junior College.
For the first time in a while, Geonshin visited the school with a clear head. Every day, because of the Gwangseong University design competition, he had been so busy coming and going as if possessed by something. But now that today had arrived, he noticed the autumn leaves turning red and yellow.
‘I really must have been completely out of it all this time.’
Whatever else could be said, Gyehwa Junior College was his alma mater.
It was a space of love and hate, where memories from his youth and the immature dreams of that time had gathered and boiled together in one place. As he looked over the campus buildings and athletic field spread out in the distance, a fresh feeling welled up in him again.
‘When I first came back to school after regressing, I felt so good.’
Doesn’t everyone dream of the past that has already passed? Geonshin, who had regressed after reaching his forties, was no exception.
As he thought back to his college days, all kinds of thoughts came to mind.
I should have done this back then…
If I could go back just as I was, I would definitely try that…
But even the college life he had thought would be filled with excitement was still reality.
Because of the work he was handling at Yeongjo Architecture, he was out of his mind with fatigue from working late nights. And since he was a college student, his pockets were thin, so he was not in a situation where he could eat properly either.
As a result, the entirety of the post-regression campus life he could enjoy consisted of attending class with a gaunt face, looking half dead.
On top of that, he was gradually finding it burdensome to come to school.
When he looked around, everyone was a fresh-faced kid who had just turned twenty, so it was not easy for him to squeeze in anywhere and chat with them.
Somehow, because he was working part-time at Yeongjo Architecture, he had earned the title of “legend.” But from what he had begun hearing, it seemed that some people were starting to feel jealous about that too.
In many ways, receiving this kind of attention did not sit well with him.
‘No one’s here?’
Geonshin entered the teaching assistant’s office and looked at the large information board posted on one wall.
Since the curriculum was structured mainly around employment, most of the postings were for competitions or special technical lectures on things like computer programs.
Then again, in the 2000s, portals for sharing information were still lacking. In its own way, it was a time when experts could make a living.
If you did not know something, there was no real method other than calling in an expert to solve it.
Of course, after smartphones appeared, and once the era came when countless experts’ knowledge could easily be learned through video platforms like YouTube, and people could even do their own interior work, those classes would eventually become useless knowledge, like sand slipping through one’s fingers.
‘Huh? But the only thing missing is the architecture competition application. Did everyone already take them?’
“Oh. Na Geonshin. You came looking normal today.”
The architecture department teaching assistant entered. He was a senior from the same department who was working as a teaching assistant after graduation.
The students, regardless of gender, all called him “TA hyung.” Even Geonshin, whose mental age was in his forties, was no exception.
“TA hyung, the architecture competition applications aren’t here. Did everyone already take them?”
“No. We never put them out in the first place.”
“What? Why not?”
“What, did you transfer in from somewhere else? What architecture competition would our school enter? I can’t even remember the last time we submitted anything.”
Now that he heard it, that made sense too.
‘Come to think of it, at this time, I hadn’t even thought about the architecture competition either.’
“Then, do we not have the applications at all?”
“No, we do have them. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of doing it? There probably isn’t much time left.”
“No. I just wanted to take a look.”
“I thought so. Yeongjo people really are different.”
If he said he was really going to try, the conversation would drag on for no reason. And if rumors spread, that would be troublesome too. Geonshin decided he would simply prepare in secret.
After all, he had no intention of forming a team with other people and applying together.
After receiving the application, Geonshin began reading it carefully as he walked down the hallway.
‘The publicness of architecture in this era.’
The topic of the 2002 general open competition for the architecture competition was “The Publicness of Architecture in This Era.”
Publicness [Being Public]
Its dictionary meaning was “a quality that relates broadly not to one individual or group, but to all members of society in general.” +
In English, the meaning of “Being,” or existing, could be interpreted together with “Public,” meaning “for the public,” and thus also as “an existence for the public.”
In that sense, publicness did not actually carry one common meaning across every field.
In economics, it referred to public goods.
In broadcasting, it was defined through truthfulness, fairness, and usefulness.
In education, it evoked public education, and in medicine, public welfare.
The nuance differed depending on the field.
But the important keyword running through all of them was ultimately one thing.
“Publicness” meant that something had to be open to everyone.
Then what was publicness in architecture?
When ordinary people spoke of public buildings, they usually meant government offices, schools, hospitals, libraries, art museums, and the like.
They often referred to buildings that were not operated for profit by private companies, but instead by government-led public organizations, making them easy for anyone to use.
Specifically, the Sejong Center for the Performing Arts, Olympic Park, the Sports Complex, the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art in Gwacheon, and Seonyudo Park all fell into that category.
If one thought of even Rome’s symbolic Colosseum as a representative public building, the scope of public architecture became quite broad.
Considering that the amphitheater where bloody combat took place between gladiators, who were prisoners of war, and wild beasts was a public building for entertainment at the time, one could see that the function of publicness changed with the era.
Then what did publicness mean in this era of 2002?
‘The publicness of architecture. I need to decide on a theme quickly.’
Usually, when topics like this appeared in competitions, most students around this time approached them with ideas for remodeling the “old Seoul Station.”
Soon, in 2004, construction would begin on the new Seoul Station building, which would make the old Seoul Station look shabby. But that too was part of the flow of history, so what could be done?
There were also ideas like plans to revitalize Namdaemun Market, YMCA renovations, and so on.
Renewing aging public buildings in a stylish way to suit the newly arrived millennium era. Or finding neglected areas, or places lacking multipurpose facilities that everyone could use, and creating libraries or art museums there.
That was the approach most public architecture took.
‘In the end, I need to quickly find a place where the theme will come through clearly.’
Suddenly, an image flashed through Geonshin’s mind.
In truth, after his regression, there had been one place that had remained on Geonshin’s mind. When he had been in his twenties, he had not understood it well. But now that he was in his forties, and after continuing to work in architecture, it did not feel right to simply pass it by.
It was an important issue that would remain in the history of construction in Korea.
In any case, with only about ten days left, there was no time to hesitate. He immediately went to find that place.
About an hour later, he came out of Exit 6 of Korea University Station. Had he walked for about ten minutes?
The construction site he had expected appeared before Geonshin’s eyes.
Huge tower cranes stood tall, and clouds of sandy dust rose thickly. Cars sped along the six-lane road, and on one side of the road, trucks loaded with cement were lined up waiting.
It was the site of a mixed-use apartment complex whose construction had begun in 2001. Had it already gone up about one-third of the way?
The workers on-site were moving busily.
What connection could an ordinary apartment construction site have with the publicness of architecture in this era?
At the site of that historical incident, Geonshin closed his eyes and calmly sank into thought.
Right there,
at the site of the Sampoong Department Store collapse.
T/N: On July 29th, 1995, the Sampoong Department Store located in Seoul, South Korea collapsed due to a blatant disregard for structural precautions and
corrupt business practices led to the structure collapsing with over 1500 customers still inside the structure.
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