Interjúk – Hyunju Julia Lee

Since childhood, I’ve been deeply sensitive to spaces and atmospheres. I still vividly remember a restaurant I visited with my family as a child — the stained-glass lights, velvet textures, and even the faint piano music remain in my memory not just as visuals, but as emotions. I think that’s when I subconsciously started seeing space as a medium of storytelling. I studied Interior Design in San Francisco and New York, and also pursued architecture studies in Chile and Argentina. Those diverse cultural experiences helped me expand my design perspective globally while staying grounded in emotional depth. Becoming a designer wasn’t just a decision, it was an inevitability.

Fran&Co is a Seoul-based interior design studio I founded in 2022. We specialize in workspaces and commercial interiors that go beyond aesthetics. We create environments that support human behavior, evoke emotion, and drive business outcomes. Our motto is simple: "Making life more beautiful through space." Design is not just about surfaces, but about what space can do for people — emotionally, behaviorally, and even economically.

Design is a form of emotional engineering. It’s not just about arranging furniture or picking colors. It’s about crafting environments that affect how people feel, think, and act. For me, design is a silent partner in life. It doesn’t shout, but it shapes everything.

I particularly enjoy designing workspaces and brand spaces because they offer a narrative challenge. Every brand or company has a story, a culture, and a dream, and my role is to translate that into a spatial language. Spaces that reflect identity and ambition excite me the most.

One of my favorites is the Fran&Co office itself, which was awarded the iF Design Award. It was a deeply personal project. I transformed a windowless space into an inspiring atelier by layering forest-themed wallpaper, soft lighting, and a sense of emotional rhythm. The space embodies my design philosophy: healing, imaginative, and human-centered.

My first official project was a collaborative office space in Seoul. It was a startup company looking to define its brand through its physical space, and I designed it to be casual, flexible, and grounded in industrial minimalism, while keeping the budget in mind. That balance between identity, design, and business has stayed with me ever since.

I love working with natural finishes — textured woods, warm metals, and layered lighting. But I’m also fascinated by digital rendering and VR tools. They allow clients to emotionally connect with the concept before it’s built. Technology is no longer separate from design; it’s a part of how we communicate feeling.

Usually in solitude, late at night or when I’m traveling alone. Seeing new environments, walking through a museum, or just staring at the sea. That’s when design ideas begin to whisper.

I focus on three key aspects: emotional flow, spatial logic, and sensory depth. A good space must feel good, function well, and resonate with memory.

I feel like I’m composing music with space. There’s a rhythm, a tension, a quiet moment, and a resolve. It's emotional. Sometimes it’s joy, sometimes obsession, often curiosity.

Whenever a space I’ve designed is brought to life, I always feel a blend of two emotions.

First, there’s a sense of anticipation and nervous excitement, like the moment just before a theater curtain rises.

Then comes a quiet sense of fulfillment, as I watch people inhabit the space, respond to it, and gradually make it their own. When a client tells me, “I feel energized in this space,” it reminds me why I do what I do. That’s when I truly feel the purpose of being a designer.

A successful design connects. It doesn’t have to be loud or complex. It just needs to touch people in ways they didn’t expect but deeply needed.

Authenticity. I look at the intention behind the design: what problem it solves, how it considers users, and whether form and feeling align. Good design isn’t just beautiful, it’s emotionally and logically grounded.

Designers shape the world quietly but profoundly. We must design for sustainability, for inclusion, and for healing. We have a responsibility to create spaces that protect the future.

Design is becoming more human-centered and interdisciplinary. In the future, I believe design will be less about objects and more about systems and emotional experience. The fusion of AI, psychology, and ecology will be key.

I find inspiration in travel, museums, architectural tours, everyday scenes, emotional shifts, music, and meaningful conversations.

Often, ideas emerge in those quiet moments when I let myself feel and flow with time.

To stay creative, I believe in giving myself enough space to simply be — to daydream, to pause.

Without that openness, inspiration has nowhere to land.

I don't define my work by a single visual style, because every project is a new story. Some are minimalist and serene, others layered and expressive. My approach is more about the emotional and spatial logic behind the design than any fixed aesthetic.

What ties my work together is the intention to create spaces that feel meaningful, intuitive, and emotionally resonant. I adapt my visual language depending on the brand, context, and the users — but I always ask: What do I want people to feel here?

I believe that style is not a signature look, but a way of thinking. For me, that means designing with empathy, listening deeply to the identity of the space, and crafting environments that are both functional and poetic.

I live in Seoul. Korean design is deeply rooted in harmony, balance, and the beauty of emptiness. That heritage always lives within me, even when I'm designing something global or contemporary.

I collaborate closely, starting with understanding client’s core values. My process includes deep listening, visual storytelling, and aligning design choices with business strategy — not just aesthetics.

Choose a designer who listens well and thinks beyond trends. Look for someone who aligns with your values and can translate your brand into a spatial experience.

My process begins with understanding — people, context, and intention. Then comes concept development, sketching, material exploration, and detailed coordination. It’s both intuitive and structured.

1.A vintage floor lamp from New York

2.A ceramic bowl I bought in Korea

3.A collection of rocks and fossils

4.A book from my favorite interior design professor

5.My aged wooden piano. Not design per se, but a quiet anchor in my space.

Mornings begin with green tea and planning the day. Afternoons are for deep work — drawing, writing, reviewing visuals. Evenings are for reflection, sometimes ballet class or writing.

Design is not just about trends. It's about observing, asking deeper questions, and building your voice. Stay curious, stay kind, and don’t be afraid to be different.

The joy: Creating something meaningful that touches people’s lives. The challenge: balancing creative integrity with real-world constraints. But that tension often births the best work.

Design with empathy. Every space should understand its user before trying to impress.

Observation, storytelling, spatial intuition, and the ability to synthesize ideas. Communication is just as important as creativity.

Sketchbook, Adobe Suite, AutoCAD, Enscape, and inspirational images and site photos. I also rely on my own writing as design tools.

I structure my days with intention, making sure to build in time for thinking, not just doing. I prioritize tasks and give each stage the attention it deserves.

It depends. From a few weeks for small-scale to months for spatial or branding projects. The concept phase is often the most time-consuming, but the most important.

“Where do your ideas come from?” — and my answer is always: from life, from observing, from listening closely.

Designing Fran&Co's Seoul office. It was not just a project. It was building my philosophy into a physical form.

Startups, retail brands, and corporate clients looking for meaningful transformation.

Projects that involve storytelling, like transforming a forgotten basement into a poetic retail space or designing an office that reflects a staff’s journey.

My next steps include publishing my book, and launching a furniture line rooted in the values of emotional space, and expanding Fran&Co into global markets. I also hope to speak more internationally, sharing design philosophy with broader audiences.

Both. I lead the design direction and collaborate with a small, dedicated team. For certain parts like storytelling or editing, I also work solo.

Yes, a new retail project that plays with repetition and layering, inspired by traditional architecture.

Through website: www.frannco.com or by email: hello@frannco.com

Design is not just what we see, but what we feel, remember, and carry with us. I believe good design evokes memorable emotions, not just enhances functions.

At the beginning of the project, one of our core challenges was achieving both openness and privacy in a compact area located within a public lobby. We wanted the space to feel welcoming without exposing visitors to the gaze of passersby. This led to a question: how could transparency create intimacy?By strategically placing the reception desk perpendicular to the main glass opening, we allowed visibility into the space without sacrificing discretion during private consultations. The large glass door and window were not only formal gestures of transparency, but psychological tools to lower the threshold of entry. Throughout development, we refined the spatial layout to ensure that every line of sight was intentional. The result is a space that feels both open and serene, yet private and exclusive.

The inspiration behind the ‘space within a space’ concept came from observing how Seoul Auction’s lobby already functioned as a curated, gallery-like environment. We wanted The Concierge to exist quietly within it, like a carefully placed object in a larger composition.This architectural approach called for a restrained material palette. We selected matte white finishes to reflect the gallery’s minimal aesthetic, along with subdued textures such as pale wood, light beige leather, vertically grooved ceramic tiles, and soft beige carpet. These materials were chosen to recede rather than compete with the surrounding artworks. Even the smallest details, like minimal hardware and handles, were curated to preserve the purity of form.

Yes, the absence of an electrical floor box in the existing lobby significantly influenced our design strategy. Instead of compromising the clean flooring, we embraced a ceiling-based solution. Electrical and fire safety lines were routed from above and concealed along the column, seamlessly integrated within the minimal architectural form. This necessity ultimately reinforced our minimalist direction.

From the outset, we envisioned The Concierge not as a static space but as one that shifts character over time. During the day, it remains discreet and almost invisible from the outside. But at night, we wanted it to become a glowing jewel within the darker gallery lobby.This transformation is made possible by the interplay between the building’s perforated skin and the wooden display shelves inside. By carefully layering materials and adjusting the lighting, we created a screen-like effect: at night, the displayed objects are softly revealed through the textured facade and the warm shelving inside.

Traditional Korean aesthetics value the concept of ‘beauty of blank space’, the elegance found in what is left unsaid or untouched. This idea shaped how we treated blank space within The Concierge. Rather than filling every surface, we allowed emptiness to speak for itself, creating quiet tension and elegance.We were also inspired by the traditional notion of ‘borrowed scenery’, often seen in Korean architecture where windows are carefully placed to frame specific views. In our design, we applied this principle by positioning a window to frame the building’s existing art wall, transforming a functional opening into a moment of contemplation.

Working within such defined dimensions required every millimeter to be intentional. One of our key strategies was to expose the ceiling structure, which extended the perceived height and brought a sense of airiness to the compact volume. This helped the space feel more expansive and serene, aligning with the minimalist vision.We also avoided internal partitions or visual clutter, allowing the spatial flow to remain uninterrupted and open.

Rather than follow a linear layout, we developed a spatial rhythm that mirrors how one naturally explores art—pause, observe, continue. The various sizes of display boxes are strategically spaced to create moments of discovery. As customers enter, their movement is gently guided to various display points, allowing them to experience each item in isolation.This rhythm not only enhances the sense of luxury, but also gives each object room to breathe, elevating the overall experience into something more contemplative and refined.

Blank space is not absence, it is presence. In high-end retail, over-design can easily dilute the perceived value of a product. By embracing white walls and gentle expressions, we create a psychological atmosphere of calm and exclusivity. Each item stands alone, not in competition with others.This spatial silence gives customers room to connect with what they see. It suggests that what is shown is rare, refined, and truly deserves one’s attention.

When working within an existing building, we often design around existing infrastructure. In this case, rather than constructing a new air circulation system, we chose to utilize the existing lobby’s system through an open ceiling.The result is a ceiling that breathes, both literally and visually, contributing to the open and gallery-like atmosphere while ensuring comfort for visitors. The exposed ceiling structure became a quiet design feature, seamlessly aligning with our minimalist vision.

Minimalism can be luxurious. Our design approach embraced the ‘beauty of blank space’ as a tool to elevate perception of luxury. I believe The Concierge signals a shift in how we define luxury in retail: not through excess, but through precision, atmosphere, and emotional resonance. This project demonstrates that small spaces can evoke grandeur, and that quiet design, when guided by intention, can be powerful.Because the walls are intentionally kept white and unobtrusive, certain areas—such as the display boxes—can be transformed into exhibition zones using graphic films. This flexible layer allows curated displays to emerge without altering the core architecture, enriching the dynamic dialogue between art and retail.