Ontwerper van de Dag Interview
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Beginning my career in video production and motion graphics with a major in Film and Video, I have established myself as a distinguished digital artist and branding strategist.
Could you please tell us about your experience as a designer, artist, architect or creator?
Beginning my career in video production and motion graphics with a major in Film and Video, I have established myself as a distinguished digital artist and branding strategist.
My artistic journey includes exhibitions at the Seoul Arts Center and various international art fairs. I was honored to be selected as an 'Art Gyeonggi' artist in 2017 and 2018, and I have successfully held three solo exhibitions.
Leveraging this artistic foundation alongside my professional experience as a Platform Service Planner and a Design Consultant for the Korea Institute of Design Promotion (KIDP), I recently founded 'Sayu Gonggan (Space for Contemplation) Studio'. Currently, I specialize in designing brand identities and philosophies for corporations, specifically high-growth startups. My mission is to help startups establish unique brand values by integrating profound artistic contemplation with rigorous strategic planning.
How did you become a designer?
My journey into the world of design began with a simple fascination—the sophisticated image of the profession and the pure sensory joy of creating something 'beautiful' with my own hands.
However, after over a decade of navigating both high-level professional projects and educational fields, my perspective has evolved profoundly. I realized that the essence of design is not merely visual decoration. It is about identifying the genuine needs of the world, solving practical problems, and presenting a vision for a better future through strategic 'solutions.' Today, my strongest motivation comes from the conviction that I can provide answers to complex real-world challenges by applying both rigorous logic and refined intuition.
My creative identity is a unique blend of these two worlds. For projects like my award-winning scarf series, I lean into deep artistic contemplation and aesthetic expression. My work is philosophically influenced by Hermann Hesse’s 'Demian,' exploring the depths of the human psyche, while also drawing inspiration from the surreal and eerie concepts of Junji Ito. Visually, I pursue the elegant, decorative beauty seen in the works of Gustav Klimt and Alphonse Mucha, while maintaining the contemplative and surreal atmosphere of René Magritte.
In contrast, when a project demands a strategic and analytical approach, I set aside pure artistry to focus on structural logic and functional efficiency. I take pride in my ability to switch between these two modes—the 'Artist' who explores the subconscious and the 'Planner' who solves complex problems. This duality allows me to create artwork that is not only visually captivating but also philosophically deep and logically sound.
What are your priorities, technique and style when designing?
When starting a new project, my primary focus is on clear architectural planning. By constantly oscillating between defining the project's purpose and exploring relevant references, I solidify the project’s structure. To me, the drafting phase is not just about creating a visual proposal; it is a strategic maneuver to design the overall framework and establish a strong logical consensus with the client.
So, my design process is anchored by three pivotal stages: Definition of Intent, Clarification of Concept, and Digital Refinement. I believe design is not merely about creating forms but about architecting a fundamental purpose and validating it through visual logic.
The central theme of all my projects is the synergistic interaction between intent and reference. I do not view 'Defining Intent' (Phase 1) and 'Reference Research' (Phase 2) as a linear sequence. Instead, they form an iterative, collaborative relationship where each informs the other. This process crystallizes ambiguous ideas into clear, actionable concepts, serving both as a blueprint for high-quality execution and as a strategic foundation to logically persuade clients.
I am a digital-native designer who fully leverages modern technology and digital tools throughout the entire workflow. I rarely rely on hand sketches; instead, I initiate projects directly in a digital environment. A distinctive feature of my methodology is that even the initial drafts presented to clients are developed to a near-final level of fidelity. This high-fidelity approach at the early stages enhances decision-making efficiency, allowing me to focus the final phase entirely on pushing the boundaries of detail and perfection.
Which emotions do you feel when designing?
For me, design is best defined as the dopamine rush that follows intense agony. While the initial spark of an idea is incredibly thrilling and evocative, the actual process of designing is an arduous journey of mental labor. I possess an obsessive persistence that refuses to move forward until I have found the perfect reference and established a rock-solid logic and definition for the work. This stage of intellectual struggle is undoubtedly the most painful part of the process.
However, once that logical framework is set, the execution becomes a source of pure joy. Especially when creating digital artworks, I reach a state of flow so deep that the digital interface begins to feel like the tactile texture of analog tools. This immersion brings a meditative peace, a feeling of being connected to a universal plane of philosophy and spirituality.
When this period of endurance and meditation culminates in a high-fidelity masterpiece, I feel a sense of profound awe toward the final result, even though it is my own creation. I am deeply drawn to captivating beauty, and being able to manifest such aesthetic value through my own hands brings me an indescribable sense of pride and happiness. Ultimately, design is the most enchanting pleasure I derive from the depths of painful inquiry.
What particular aspects of your background shaped you as a designer?
The essence of design does not reside solely within visual stimuli. While direct inspiration is vital, I find the seeds of creation in books, music, and even the mundane act of washing dishes. These non-design experiences and the perspectives they foster have become the bedrock that makes me a more resilient and adaptable designer.
Life is a long journey, and it is a profound honor to master a single path by delving deep into it. However, my journey has not been a straight highway; rather, it has been a trek through muddy paths, labyrinthine alleys, and even along the edges of cliffs. Though wandering through such terrain is exhausting and slow, the process of losing my way and finding it again has fundamentally reshaped my worldview and philosophy. Encountering these unexpected landscapes has gifted me with a breadth of vision and a flexibility of perspective that a straight path could never provide.
I may sometimes find that I can no longer recreate the creative styles of my past, but it is precisely because of those detours that I have been able to forge an entirely new methodology. My design journey is not a race toward a fixed destination; it is a process of gathering the fragments of life encountered on a winding road and distilling them into the vessel of design. This trajectory of life has become my greatest asset, allowing me to solve complex problems with empathy and architect beauty that possesses multiple layers of depth.
What is your growth path? What are your future plans? What is your dream design project?
My growth has been a journey of bridging the gap between a reserved child who shied away from the spotlight and a passionate creator who yearns to leave a lasting mark on the world. I still aspire to be recognized and successful. I want to etch my name into the history of art and design and achieve financial success—not for vanity, but to gain the resources to support my creative visions without compromise.
However, I am fully aware that life does not always follow one’s intended path. If great fame or wealth does not come to fruition, I accept that as it is. Even if my life doesn't turn out exactly as planned, I want to live with every ounce of my being, doing my absolute best within my reach until the moment I fade away. While there is a vast difference between becoming a wealthy master and remaining an anonymous designer, from the perspective of "continuing to create," that difference is as thin as a sheet of paper.
The core philosophy that permeates my entire body of work is captured in my artwork titled "Zero." To me, Zero is 0 and a single tiny point, yet at the same time, it is the most radiantly shining star. It is like a black hole that collapses into extinction with a magnificent explosion at its most brilliant moment. My ultimate dream and plan are to complete this philosophy of "Zero" through my design and my life. Regardless of the circumstances, I want to be remembered as a designer who never ceased the act of creation, connecting the radiant extinction and rebirth of existence.
What are your advices to designers who are at the beginning of their career?
From the perspective of pure art and design, I must candidly confess that marriage and parenthood were significant obstacles for me. Many great artists reached their zeniths while single, precisely because creation demands an uninterrupted flow of deep immersion and the painful refinement of technical skill. While modern productivity books advise carving your day into minute-by-minute increments, the language of design and art cannot follow such a script. One must allow thoughts to drift freely and simply follow the current—a process that often feels at odds with the rules of the world, leaving me with a sense of dissonance.
In a hyper-competitive society like Korea, maintaining an artistic identity while providing for a family and ensuring financial stability often feels like an immense burden. Even now, I am constantly tightrope walking between the responsibilities that surround me and my own creative desires. I have sacrificed much along the way and have even stepped away to pursue entirely different lines of work. However, looking back over the long term, I have never truly stopped being a designer and an artist.
To the young designers just starting their journey, I want to say this: Life is a continuous series of problems, and the way you navigate them may not always look like the idealized version of yourself you had in mind. But if you wish to live with the identity of a designer until the day you die, do not abandon your essence. As long as you hold onto that core, you will eventually return to it, even if the storms of life force you to pause.
You are truly successful as a designer, what do you suggest to fellow designers, artists and architects?
My advice to fellow professionals is clear: Construct your own grammar and worldview.
We often become consumed by flawlessly manifesting a client's demands. However, you can never establish your own unique rules and design language if you are only buried in commissioned projects. When a void in client work arrives, do not merely use that time to travel, read, or zone out. That gap is your golden hour—the time to create work that is purely imbued with your own philosophy.
When pursuing personal work, do not settle for lighthearted play or simple pleasure. You must relentlessly interrogate your work with your own philosophical reasoning. By asking fierce questions like "Why did I include this element?" and "Why am I doing this work?" and finding your own answers, you give birth to your unique architectural grammar.
A worldview constructed this way becomes your distinct color. That vivid identity then serves as a conduit, attracting clients who resonate with your specific philosophy. Do not settle for being a brilliant representative who merely visualizes a client’s thoughts. Instead, aspire to be a designer who invites the client into the robust worldview you have built. This is the only path to sustainable success as a true expert.
What is your day to day look like?
My day truly begins in the stillness of the early morning, only after I have put my child to sleep. I sit before my computer to continue previous works or simply lose myself in thought; it is during these quiet hours that the most vivid inspirations and profound aphorisms surface. At times, the rush of inspiration is so overwhelming that I struggle to capture it all before it fades from memory.
When I am in the midst of creation, I surround myself with music that resonates with the texture of the project. There are sublime moments when the lyrics or the melody perfectly align with the answers I am seeking in my work—this personal epiphany brings me immense happiness.
For more administrative or technical tasks, I listen to spiritual teachings or insightful channels from influential leaders as a form of "working music." This practice prevents me from being overly consumed by emotion and provides a strategic compass to solve the practical problems before me. Navigating between this meditative sensitivity and rational leadership in the predawn silence is the ritual that sustains my creative life.
How do you keep up with latest design trends? To what extent do design trends matter?
I do not follow design trends. Trends are cyclical and fleeting; to chase them is to ensure that one's work remains anchored only to a specific moment in time. While there is a common tendency to view older designs as "outdated," I refuse to let my work be consumed and discarded in such a manner.
Instead of relying on trends, I focus on creating outcomes that strictly align with the fundamental objectives of the project. The references I seek for this purpose are not limited by era; I draw from both the past and the present without distinction. My goal is clear: I want my creations to be masterpieces that do not lose their luster over time, remaining relevant and sophisticated regardless of the passing years. Rather than being swept away by the waves of fashion, I strive to establish a unique aesthetic that pierces through the timeline.
How do you know if a product or project is well designed? How do you define good design?
A good design must perfectly align with its intended objectives, and it reaches completion only when its aesthetic value achieves universality.
While the definition of beauty can be subjective, there exists a fundamental baseline by which anyone can intuitively judge whether something is beautiful, unsightly, or carelessly made. This baseline is what I call 'universality.' Therefore, throughout the design process, I maintain a conscious distance to evaluate whether my direction is leaning too heavily toward personal preference or if it possesses an aesthetic language that is socially resonant.
I believe the most critical indicator distinguishing design from pure art—and the primary criterion for excellence—is this ability to balance one's personal taste with a broader social consensus. A design becomes a masterpiece when it transcends the individual and connects with the collective intuition of the public.
How do you decide if your design is ready?
My concept of 'completion' was first forged during my days preparing for the fine arts college entrance examination. My instructor always emphasized the paramount importance of the 'finishing touches,' and I was rigorously trained in how to execute them flawlessly. The obsessive attention to detail that characterizes my current workflow was entirely shaped during that formative period.
Today, my criterion for determining when a design is finished is based on a strategic judgment: I ask whether further intervention will actually detract from the overall work, or if it is merely a meaningless action that has no bearing on the grand scheme of the project. When I determine that further refinement breaks the established balance or yields diminishing returns, I stop and declare it complete.
If, despite everything, the final outcome remains unsatisfying, it is not a matter of the design being incomplete, but rather that the project itself was fundamentally mismatched with my disposition. If a result feels so inadequate that I wish to reject it entirely, it means the issue lies far beyond what can be salvaged through minor adjustments. It indicates that the initial architectural planning and definition of the project were flawed from the very beginning. In such cases, the solution is not to iterate, but to scrap the work and restart entirely. For me, the success of completion depends on knowing when to cease modification and trusting the rigor of the initial blueprint.
What is your biggest design work?
The project I am most proud of is the "Dancheong Silk Scarf," which recently won a Bronze award at the A' Design Award. This project holds the greatest and most profound meaning for me because it was not merely about creating a single fashion item; rather, it was a comprehensive business branding project where I architected everything from scratch, enabling a brand to establish its identity and scale.
This work began as a project to transform a single craftsperson under the name "Cattleya" into a structured, commercial fashion brand. Initially, the creator lacked a clear brand identity. I persuaded them of the vital importance of branding and guided them to approach their growth strategy like an agile fashion startup to compete effectively in the market.
At the time, the biggest challenge was the lack of capital. To overcome this hurdle, I introduced them to government funding opportunities and actively participated in the presentation for a branding commercialization support program as their partner designer. Securing this grant allowed me to design the entire branding framework for Cattleya. Following this success, we utilized a subsequent fashion commercialization support program to finally develop the textile pattern for the award-winning scarf.
The defining element of this design—the pattern—is not a literal copy of traditional Korean Dancheong motifs. Instead, it is a contemporary reinterpretation, deeply embedded within Cattleya’s newly established branding system, melting the brand's unique identity directly into the traditional geometry.
Today, this Dancheong pattern has transcended the silk scarf; it is being produced across various fabric lines. Furthermore, the leftover scraps from this fabric production are combined with traditional Korean knots to create various handmade upcycled goods. These eco-friendly pieces are currently being exhibited at the Upcycle Art Center where my studio is located, putting sustainable design principles into practice.
For me, this is my most significant and outstanding achievement. It allowed me to fully demonstrate my capabilities both as a strategic PM and a high-fidelity designer—covering everything from conceptualization and fund procurement to identity architecture, aesthetic completion, and sustainable circular expansion.
Would you tell us a bit about your lifestyle and culture?
I was born in Seoul and currently reside in the adjacent city of Gwangmyeong. Gwangmyeong is presently undergoing massive redevelopment, dynamically transforming from an old urban center into a modern, high-tech city. As reflected in this environment, Korea is a society characterized by an incredibly rapid pace of change. It is a digital powerhouse that simultaneously preserves deep historical roots; it is a trendsetting nation with a cultural DNA rooted in convergent thinking—much like our representative dish, Bibimbap, which harmonizes disparate ingredients into a cohesive whole.
In a hyper-stimulating environment where everything is consumed and replaced so quickly, striving to always be at the absolute forefront of the latest trend can feel like chasing a mirage. Amidst the exhaustion of this fast-paced lifestyle, my strategic survival mechanism has been to return to the core essence. Focusing on the foundational essence may appear stationary at first glance, but it ensures one never falls behind; rather, it provides the internal stability required to accept new technologies and shift perspectives without friction.
This philosophy inherently shapes my daily observations. When walking through newly constructed residential complexes in my city, I naturally evaluate the formal aesthetics of the structures, how beautifully the pathways are landscaped, what materials were utilized, and how meticulously the design enhances human comfort and flow.
No matter how eras change, the underlying purpose of design remains constant. Therefore, I believe that good design is fundamentally about being faithful to the basics. A design that is rigorously grounded in the fundamentals elevates the public's aesthetic discernment, maximizes functional convenience, and ultimately improves the overall quality of human life.
What are your philanthropic contributions to society as a designer, artist and architect?
As a designer and educator, I wish for my professional expertise to contribute meaningfully to society and serve as a tool for regional economic circulation.
Driven by my interest in human rights, I volunteered to create a few illustrations for the People’s Solidarity for Participatory Democracy (PSPD), a civic organization, to help convey their messages on human rights awareness. It was a fulfilling experience where I could use my skills to present a heavy topic in a more visually accessible way.
Furthermore, to share my knowledge with the community, I have spent over a decade conducting lectures on digital cultural arts through local government institutions. It is incredibly rewarding to watch everyday citizens discover and practice their own unique creativity through these classes.
Currently, leveraging my past experience in the IT platform business, I provide practical business education for career-interrupted women. Through this, I demonstrate how sharing one's personal talents can become a viable business, putting into practice a sustainable model that ultimately fosters economic circulation within the local community.
What positive experiences you had when you attend the A' Design Award?
For a long time, I had little interest in awards or competitions. In fact, I harbored a strong aversion to the structure where one had to pay fees to receive an award or recognition. However, my perspective shifted completely after a rigorous period of running a corporate business and subsequently closing it down.
At the time, to grow my business, I constantly studied branding, explored how to visually communicate and scale that brand, and researched how to drive consumer behavior throughout that journey. I invested heavily in the process, but the business ultimately closed, leaving behind substantial debt. From that bitter failure, I realized two clear truths: showcasing a company requires significant financial investment, and that invested capital and corporate history vanish entirely with the company upon liquidation. However, an 'individual's track record and career' remain as an permanent asset as long as they live. This experience taught me to actively invest in actions that elevate my personal brand.
From this standpoint, while international design awards like the A' Design Award demand a substantial financial commitment, they possess immense value in boosting a designer's pride and serving as a powerful marketing conduit. To secure better projects, a designer must relentlessly refine themselves and never be stingy about self-investment. I see three primary advantages to participating in such awards:
First, awards serve as a vital mechanism of "carrots and sticks" that compels a creator to sustain their practice, whether in fine art or strategic design.
Second, it stands as a primary, officially sanctioned instrument to promote the designer, validating personal brand equity with global credibility.
Third, the very act of entering the competition and articulating the logic behind one's project forces a higher level of execution and finality, which inherently raises the caliber of the next project.