Intervjuer med Jiwon Jung

My name is Jiwon Jung, and I am a visual communication designer based in Seoul, currently studying at Hongik University, which is known for its excellence in art and design education. I have developed my skills through diverse branding and editorial design projects, both in academic and professional settings. My work spans identity design, spatial branding, and mobility-related visual narratives, aiming to enhance user experience and brand storytelling with thoughtful clarity.

From a young age, I was fascinated by the aesthetics and mechanisms of objects that move—cars, bicycles, trains. What began as a personal curiosity evolved into a design philosophy centered on movement and communication. My academic journey at Hongik University deepened this vision, allowing me to explore how visual design can translate brand values into meaningful experiences. Rather than a single turning point, it was a consistent drive to express ideas visually that led me to design.

My design priorities are consistency, clarity, and concept. I begin every project by defining the core narrative and aligning all visual elements to reinforce it. I favor a structured, system-based approach rooted in typography and grid systems. I frequently use various design tools from Adobe, along with Figma, depending on the phase and nature of the project., but I sketch by hand during early ideation. Regardless of medium, I strive to ensure that every design communicates a clear and cohesive story.

Design, to me, is not a personal act of expression, but a form of visual creation intended to satisfy and serve others—particularly clients or broader audiences. I consistently approach my work from a third-person perspective, striving to understand how the message will be received. When an idea forms and resonates during the concept stage, I feel a sense of excitement, and throughout the process, I maintain a mindset of objectivity. The true fulfillment comes when the finished design communicates clearly and meaningfully to its intended audience.

My long-standing interest in mobility and transportation has heavily shaped my approach to design. I’ve always viewed cars not just as machines but as cultural artifacts filled with symbolic and functional layers. This perspective has driven me to explore how design can enhance user experience and brand communication in everyday interactions. My editorial and writing experience also taught me to structure narratives, a skill I apply to both content and visual storytelling. Furthermore, I gained practical industry experience as a design intern at Telechips, a global automotive semiconductor company. During my time there, I worked on corporate identity guidelines, internal and external brand communication, exhibition visuals, and ESG-related promotional materials. This experience deepened my understanding of how design functions in a B2B technology-driven environment, and it strengthened my ability to deliver design that balances technical clarity with brand narrative.

My vision is to become a brand marketing designer at a global automotive company. I aspire to lead branding projects that not only highlight design excellence but also connect deeply with cultural narratives and consumer values. Rather than focusing solely on design output, I want to contribute to the strategic direction of brand communication, where mobility meets meaning, and where design becomes the language of progress.

Be curious, not just about design, but about people, systems, and the world around you. Early on, I often doubted my instincts, but I learned that good design starts with trust in your perspective. Also, collaboration is essential—surround yourself with diverse thinkers. And finally, always reflect on why you’re designing. Purpose will sustain you when inspiration feels distant.

Maintain a flexible mindset. Many designers fixate on style, but true impact comes from clarity and relevance. Constantly refine your ability to listen—to users, to context, to the material. Don’t be afraid to revisit fundamentals. Also, think in systems: design is never isolated. Every visual decision affects perception and behavior.

I start my day with coffee and short design readings, often followed by English study. As someone aiming to grow as a global designer, I view language as a bridge to broader stages. Mornings are reserved for conceptual or writing tasks, while afternoons are for execution—designing, prototyping, refining. In the evenings, I typically hold meetings or collaborative sessions. When I feel mentally saturated, I sketch ideas offline. Small routines, like listening to instrumental music and organizing color swatches, help keep me in rhythm.. My mornings are dedicated to concept work or writing, while afternoons are for execution—designing, prototyping, refining. Evenings often include meetings or collaborative work. I take time to sketch ideas offline when I feel mentally saturated. Small rituals, like music and color sorting, help me stay in rhythm.

I stay updated through design publications, exhibitions, and forums. While trends offer valuable insight into cultural shifts, I don’t follow them blindly. My goal is to interpret trends through my own lens and values. I believe timeless design comes from understanding context rather than mimicking styles.

Good design balances purpose, clarity, and emotion. When form and function work in harmony to communicate a message effortlessly, that’s when it’s successful. I know a project is well-designed when users intuitively understand it without explanation. I avoid design that prioritizes novelty over meaning.

A design is ready when it solves the problem without excess. While perfection is elusive, there comes a moment when additional changes no longer add value. I rely on feedback loops—asking both peers and non-designers. Completion, to me, is when the intent is clear and consistent across all elements.

One of my most meaningful projects was the rebranding of Berklee College of Music, which earned the Red Dot Award. It allowed me to reinterpret a historic brand with a contemporary lens while respecting its legacy. The process involved deep research, visual systems thinking, and user-centric design. It reflected my ability to balance heritage with innovation—something I aspire to in all future projects.

I most admire Sungwon Jee, Executive Vice President and Head of Global Brand & Marketing at Hyundai Motor Company. He is a role model for me not only as a designer but as a visionary brand leader. His marketing approach broke the conventional, conservative mold of traditional car manufacturers, using heritage storytelling to reflect on the past and reshape the brand’s future. He has played a key role in realizing Hyundai’s brand vision of 'Progress for Humanity,' positioning the company not just as an automaker, but as a cultural and emotional leader.. His work embodies quiet depth and clarity, reminding us that design is not decoration, but communication.

I live in Seoul, a city full of contrast—fast yet rooted, modern yet layered with tradition. My lifestyle is minimal, but I’m deeply inspired by urban mobility, signage systems, and daily rituals. Music plays a vital role in my creative rhythm, especially instrumental pieces. I believe culture is not a backdrop, but a co-author of design.

I work best when there’s mutual respect, open communication, and shared vision. Whether solo or in teams, I prioritize clarity in both process and outcomes. I believe a designer must also be a strategist, researcher, and storyteller. I seek collaborators who are thoughtful, adaptive, and curious—people who view design as a means of dialogue, not just expression.

Rather than traditional design volunteering, I’ve contributed in a more extended way through Kia’s 'Youth English Mentoring' program at Autoland. For nearly a year, I taught English to elementary and middle school students from low-income families as part of Kia’s CSR initiative. This experience allowed me to expand my role beyond design and reflect on how I can serve the community more holistically. I completed over 100 hours of mentoring and was honored with a factory director’s award for excellence. I hope that through such activities, I can contribute to a positive and human-centered image of automotive companies for future generations.. I also contribute to public interest design projects that support mobility access and social inclusion. I believe design has a role in shaping equitable systems—not just products—and I hope to do more interdisciplinary, community-centered work.

Participating in the A' Design Award has helped me reach an international audience and gain validation from an esteemed jury. It provided a platform to share my design values globally and opened opportunities for collaboration. The experience reinforced my belief that thoughtful design, regardless of medium, can resonate widely and meaningfully.

Pass Train is a gift package design inspired by Korea’s cultural tradition of supporting loved ones before pivotal moments such as important exams or interviews. It incorporates the symbolic meaning of glutinous rice cakes—often gifted with the phrase “stick to your goal”—and the visual metaphor of a train heading toward a destination, turning the recipient into a passenger embarking on a hopeful journey.

The core focus was to translate emotional support into a tactile experience. Rather than simply wrapping a product, I designed a moment—a gift that becomes a journey of encouragement. The goal was to make the recipient feel understood, supported, and empowered through Korea’s gift-giving culture and an intuitive, structural storytelling format.

Although I don’t have a current collaboration plan, I intend to further develop the concept by integrating transport-inspired structures and positive messaging. My vision is to craft packaging that delivers emotional support beyond materiality—offering designs that act as messengers of goodwill and shared humanity.

The project spanned about 4–5 weeks. I first conducted research into cultural motifs and emotional behaviors around gift-giving. The following weeks were dedicated to developing the structural system, exploring color psychology, prototyping, and validating the concept with use-case simulations.

It was a self-initiated project inspired by personal experience. I grew up receiving and giving these traditional gifts and have personally gifted glutinous rice cakes to someone I deeply cared about before a major life event. I wanted to reinterpret that moment of warmth using a modern structural and visual language.

The design is not in commercial production, nor is it being reviewed for commercialization at the moment. However, I plan to continue creating new packaging projects with similar emotional narratives and visual storytelling, as part of my creative development.

I was particularly drawn to the symbolic nature of trains—movement, journey, and direction—which naturally parallels the emotional passage through challenges like exams or interviews. Trains embody momentum and hope, and I saw them as the perfect vehicle to embody a narrative of encouragement.

I took reference from vintage Korean train tickets, traditional good-luck gifts, and signage systems found in local railway stations. The visual language and structural form of the train, however, were developed independently based on cultural intuition and symbolic analysis.

Though rooted in Korean culture, the design targets anyone globally who wishes to convey support and encouragement to someone facing a challenge. From parents and teachers to friends and colleagues, Pass Train offers a symbolic and emotionally resonant way to say, “I believe in you.”

Pass Train goes beyond surface visuals. It builds a structural narrative: the locomotive main box, passenger-car sub-packages, and a symbolic ticket card together form a journey. The color-coded sets—Passion, Cheer, Full Score, Jackpot—are connected to emotional cues, allowing visuals and sentiment to work in harmony.

“Pass Train” carries a dual meaning—referring to a train passing by and the act of passing an exam or challenge. Like boarding a train to your goal, the name is symbolic and globally intuitive. It transforms the packaging into an emotional vehicle that resonates with both intent and direction.

I used Adobe Illustrator as my primary tool. It allowed me to precisely draft folding layouts, structural blueprints, and color variations. Its simulation and precision tools were critical in bridging aesthetic form with realistic functionality, especially in prototyping.

The modular train-based structure is its most unique feature. The main locomotive box connects with sub-packages shaped like passenger cars. Each module can stand alone or work as part of a cohesive train, and the detachable handle enhances portability, making the unboxing feel like boarding a journey.

I consulted with a graduate professor for feedback on structure and feasibility. Additionally, I conducted a small-scale survey to gather input on naming and direction, using those responses to align the design with real user needs and expectations.

Though it appears tactile and handcrafted, the design relied heavily on digital prototyping. I used simulation tools to ensure balance, structure, and harmony in layout and color. The digital process ensured that the final product would look emotionally rich while being practically manufacturable.

Yes. I researched Korea’s cultural symbolism around gifting, the semantics of train travel, and color psychology. I also observed behaviors around seasonal gift-giving to define user needs, ensuring that the final design would align with emotional and cultural expectations.

Balancing visual storytelling with structural logic was a challenge. I had to ensure the train-like composition was stable in form and meaningful in sequence. Adjusting proportions and fine-tuning the unboxing flow required multiple rounds of testing and refine

Pass Train tells a story of shared emotion using form, color, and narrative. I felt it could speak across cultures. A’ Design Award’s respect for storytelling, structural creativity, and cultural identity made it the perfect platform to share this project.

I developed the ability to visualize emotions and messages through form. Learning how to deliver meaning through design without relying on text taught me the power of shape, tactility, and symbolism. I also deepened my understanding of intuitive design that is both empathetic and bold.

Pass Train is more than a package—it’s a symbolic gesture of belief. In moments when words fall short, the form becomes a language of support. My hope is that it becomes a meaningful object for moments of encouragement, celebrating quiet rituals and sincere emotion across generations and borders.

Foogo is a packaging design inspired by Korean street food culture, especially soul foods like hotteok, dalgona, fish-shaped buns, and egg bread sold from food trucks. The design aims to reimagine this emotional connection in a visual form, allowing people to experience the warmth and sentiment of Korean street food anywhere in the world.

The main focus was to create a brand experience that merges emotional storytelling and visual immersion. I wanted people to feel as if they were purchasing warm snacks from a Korean street vendor. Through this approach, the design aims to broaden global awareness of Korean soul food in a more engaging and narrative-driven way.

Foogo is planned to expand into seasonal snack editions, limited regional collaborations, and food truck pop-up exhibitions. The ultimate goal is to grow it into a mobile cultural brand that introduces Korean soul food globally beyond just snack packaging.

The entire design process took about six weeks. The first two weeks were focused on research and planning, followed by two weeks of developing the visual identity and structural design. The final two weeks were spent on prototyping, user feedback, and refinement.

This was a self-initiated project. It was driven by my desire to introduce lesser-known Korean soul foods to global audiences in a creative and experience-focused way, highlighting the cultural warmth they carry.

The concept is currently not in mass production, but we are exploring partnerships with both domestic and global food companies and cultural organizations. The goal is to help globalize K-food by offering a compelling visual packaging experience that communicates Korean soul food to international consumers.

As a designer with a long-standing interest in mobility and automobiles, I have always been fascinated by movement. Food trucks represent more than just food—they are emotional and cultural spaces on wheels. This concept combines my passion for mobility and my appreciation of Korean soul food, transforming static packaging into a dynamic cultural experience.

I referenced Japanese minimalist packaging, retro Korean wrapping designs, and food truck graphics. However, the core structure, storytelling, and visual language were all developed independently to maintain Foogo’s unique direction.

Foogo targets global consumers who are interested in K-food and K-culture, especially Gen Z and Millennials who value emotional experiences. It is also designed for concept stores, tourists, and culture-conscious buyers around the world.

Unlike conventional snack packages focused on function or branding, Foogo is designed as an experiential product. It takes the form of actual food trucks, features color-coded packaging per snack type, and includes a detachable handle. It transforms the act of holding and eating into a cultural ritual rooted in Korean streets.

“Foogo” combines “Food” and “Go,” symbolizing mobile food culture. It reflects the ease of enjoying Korean street snacks anywhere, anytime. The name is short and easy to remember globally, and its rhythm aligns naturally with the brand’s playful yet purposeful identity.

Adobe Illustrator was the main tool used throughout the project. I created the structural blueprints and conducted fold simulations within Illustrator. It was also used to build and test the color system. The precision and simulation capability of digital tools were crucial in bringing the structure to life.

The most unique aspect is that the packaging itself delivers a cultural experience. Each design resembles a miniature food truck, letting users feel as if they are buying snacks from a real Korean street vendor. Visuals, colors, handles, and shape are all holistically integrated to deliver an immersive sensory experience.

The entire visual and structural design was developed independently. I consulted a packaging specialist briefly to ensure technical feasibility.

Though the design has a warm, handmade look, it was realized through digital structural design and color simulations. It feels like a commercially produced product, but behind it lies a meticulous process of digital iteration and user-centered design thinking.

Yes, I referred to K-food export trends, consumer behavior studies, and K-culture content consumption data. I also conducted field research by observing real food trucks and documenting the physical and cultural environments in which these soul foods are served.

The biggest challenge was achieving emotional appeal while maintaining structural simplicity. Translating the symbolic form of food trucks into efficient, foldable packaging that could hold real snacks required balancing durability, usability, and print feasibility. I tested the handle's weight distribution repeatedly for stability.

I believed that Foogo had the potential to communicate a deeper cultural and emotional message to a global audience. A’ Design Award values both storytelling and structural innovation, making it the perfect platform to present this design to the world.

This project taught me that packaging is more than form—it’s a medium of emotional storytelling and cultural symbolism. Designing with both heart and function allowed me to develop a stronger design philosophy and reaffirmed my ambition to work as a brand designer in a global automotive company.

Foogo is a visual translation of “mobility,” “emotion,” and “culture.” It’s more than a snack box—it’s a moving brand experience rooted in the stories and sentiments of Korean soul food. I hope it becomes a gateway to introduce more people to the heart of Korean street culture.

For over 20 years, I have held a deep fascination with cars and mobility—not just as machines, but as carriers of emotion, movement, and stories. This lifelong interest led me to discover design as the most natural language to express what I love. I became a designer to visually articulate the rhythm of motion, urban density, and brand identity. Ultimately, I aspire to become an in-house brand designer for a global automotive company, where I can translate the essence of mobility into a compelling visual language.

I am currently studying in the Master’s Program in Visual Communication Design at Hongik University, a leading institution for design in South Korea. The program combines academic theory and practical design through research-based projects. At Hongik, I focus on branding, publication, and packaging, exploring how intangible values can be structured into visual systems that are both emotive and functional.

Design is 'My personal sketchbook'—an extension of my imagination and curiosity. It allows me to translate what I love into structured, visual forms. Especially in the field of mobility, design connects emotion with system, and movement with identity. It’s not just about making something look good; it’s about connecting people, brands, and environments in ways that are deeply human and intuitive.

I gravitate toward designs that are minimal yet conceptually rich—works that balance beauty with clarity. I especially admire brand systems that are both strategic and emotional, with elements that seem simple but carry a strong narrative. I’m drawn to designs that make the invisible—like philosophy or intent—visibly tangible.

My favorite kind of design is one that speaks clearly even to non-designers. A great design doesn’t require explanation—it intuitively communicates intent and emotion. For instance, a well-designed automotive grille or logo instantly conveys brand personality. These kinds of user-oriented, message-driven designs resonate with me the most.

As part of my graduate work, I led a local branding project for a historical neighborhood in Seoul. I developed a visual identity system inspired by cliffside housing structures, stone quarry history, and the community’s layered architecture. It became a turning point in my understanding of how place, time, and visual design intersect.

I deeply appreciate the tactile nature of printed matter—materials like transparent films, textured papers, and modular bindings. I also enjoy experimenting with analog-digital hybrid experiences, especially in packaging and editorial design. Tools like Figma and InDesign help bridge my structural planning with expressive outcomes.

I feel most creative when I’m observing urban environments or transportation systems. Noticing how people move through space, how objects interact with users, or how signage creates rhythm in a city—these moments ignite ideas. I translate these experiences into abstract visual structures in my design work.

I always ask, “Why should this be designed this way?” I focus on aligning user needs, emotional resonance, and brand intent. I aim for designs that function well while telling a story. My goal is to design systems that make users feel understood—not just impressed.

I experience a mix of excitement and tension. The early concept phase is exhilarating; it’s like solving a mystery. The development phase brings a sort of focused calm as ideas become real. It’s an emotional journey that balances logic with intuition.

Seeing my designs come to life—on a product, a package, or in a space—is deeply fulfilling. It’s even more rewarding when users engage with the design naturally, without explanation. That’s when I feel that the communication has truly succeeded.

A design is successful when it bridges users, brands, and context seamlessly. It should work functionally, communicate meaningfully, and evoke the intended emotion. When logic and feeling align in a design, it creates impact.

The first thing I assess is clarity of intent. Does it communicate what it needs to? Then I look at the structure—how the design supports usage or interaction. Aesthetic value is important, but never more than purpose and meaning.

Designers shape how people perceive the world. We must use that power responsibly by making issues visible, simplifying complex messages, and creating systems that are inclusive and sustainable. Visual communication can lead social change if done thoughtfully.

Design is no longer just visual—it’s strategic, systemic, and experiential. It is becoming increasingly integrated with business, technology, and emotion. I believe future designers will need to be both philosophers and engineers—people who craft meaning as much as they do form.

My most recent exhibition was at Hongik University, where I presented a local branding project for Changsin-dong—a neighborhood known for its cliffs and stone heritage. In the future, I hope to exhibit work that introduces Korean street food culture and mobility experiences to global audiences.

My inspiration comes from observing how people move, how cities breathe, and how everyday objects silently structure our lives. I pay close attention to visual rhythms in mobility—like the alignment of subway tiles or the pacing of street signage. Creativity, to me, is not about sudden flashes but constant sensory intake. I document what I see, sketch what I feel, and analyze how emotion and structure intersect. These layers form the foundation of my creative process.

My design style is emotionally restrained yet structurally precise. I favor systems that are readable, layered, and narratively driven. My focus is on building visual frameworks that allow brands or content to speak clearly. This style evolved from my interest in how movement and information interact—especially in mobility branding. I believe that good design should feel inevitable, like it couldn't have been done any other way.

I live in Seoul, South Korea—a city of high contrasts and layered time. The coexistence of hypermodern buildings with traditional markets, or dense signage with quiet courtyards, constantly informs my visual thinking. Korean design sensibilities—like the balance of emotional nuance and spatial clarity—deeply influence my work. I often incorporate Korean typographic rhythm, color philosophy, and modular structures into branding and packaging.

Previously, I worked as an in-house designer at Telechips, a global automotive semiconductor company. I developed CI guidelines, brand identity systems, product portfolio visuals, exhibition assets, and ESG campaigns. My role was to transform a highly technical brand into one with emotional accessibility. I collaborated across departments to ensure that the design wasn't just visual—but also strategic, cultural, and scalable.

A good designer is not only a good maker but also a good listener and translator. I would advise companies to look for designers who ask thoughtful questions before offering visual solutions. Designers should understand your purpose better than you do—and then express it better than you imagined. Look for those who treat your brand like a living system, not a logo project.

My design process begins with immersion—deep research into context, audience, and narrative. Then I extract keywords and structure them into a visual framework. After that comes exploration, prototyping, and refinement. Whether designing a poster or a brand system, I prioritize logic and flow. Each phase is an act of translation: from insight to structure, and from structure to emotion.

1. A vintage car emblem collection—each piece tells a story in curves and chrome.

2. A transparent file folder system—functional and elegant.

3. A grid-based notebook—where I sketch modular layouts.

4. A compact Korean calligraphy set—reminds me of structure within fluidity.

5. A handcrafted folding fan—its form and function reflect perfect restraint.

My day begins with quiet observation—during a walk or commute, I take note of patterns and ideas. Mornings are for writing and research; afternoons for active design work. Evenings often include critique sessions or portfolio revisions. I end the day by archiving sketches and capturing thoughts for the next cycle. Every day is an act of collecting, structuring, and reflecting.

“Don’t design to impress—design to connect.”

Your job isn’t to show how good you are. It’s to understand deeply, structure clearly, and express precisely. Learn to ask the right questions. The more you listen to the world around you, the more timeless your work becomes.

The best part is the ability to structure invisible things—like meaning, rhythm, and values—into visible outcomes. The challenge is that you never truly switch off; everything you see becomes a prompt. It can be creatively exhausting, but also incredibly rewarding to see your design become part of everyday life.

“Emotion should feel effortless; structure should be invisible.”

When people say, “That just feels right,” it’s often because the design is emotionally resonant and structurally flawless. I always aim to build designs that make sense intuitively but are underpinned by rigorous logic.

The ability to interpret context. Whether designing for a tech startup or a bakery, you must understand the emotional and functional landscape—and tailor your solutions accordingly. That sensitivity to context is more important than any software skill.

I use Adobe Creative Suite (especially Illustrator and InDesign), Figma, and Notion for organizing thoughts. I also sketch by hand constantly. My inspiration sources include archived Korean design, industrial branding, and urban signage. I collect, layer, and restructure data—visually and verbally—into story-driven frameworks.

I block my time by type of mental energy. Conceptual thinking happens in the morning. Structural work is done in the afternoon. Reviews and edits come at night. I also document progress daily to track momentum and clarity. Design is a marathon, so pace and rhythm matter.

For smaller packaging: 1–2 weeks. For branding systems: 3–5 weeks. For research-heavy, narrative-based branding: up to 2 months. Each phase—research, ideation, prototyping, refinement—is tightly integrated. I value depth and alignment over speed alone.

“Why did you design it like this?”

It’s a question I love, because it invites me to explain the logic behind every choice. If I can’t explain it simply, it means the design isn’t finished.

Working at Telechips on a brand refresh that required strategic vision, internal coordination, and emotional clarity. It taught me how to turn technical complexity into accessible visual systems—and how to lead design with empathy and structure.

I’ve worked with tech companies, cultural institutions, and small startups. My clients all share a desire to transform identity into experience. They come to me when they want branding that not only looks good but feels deeply aligned with who they are.

I love brand and packaging design—especially when they come together. Packaging is where structure meets touch; branding is where emotion meets system. Both are tactile, strategic, and storytelling-driven, which suits how I think and work.

I plan to expand my current work on Korean food culture and mobility branding into global projects. Long-term, my dream is to join a global automotive brand as an in-house brand designer, where I can shape how people emotionally experience technology and movement.

I often work independently on concept and structure. For specialized tasks—like illustration or motion—I collaborate with external creatives. But I always lead the visual logic, emotional tone, and storytelling flow. I consider myself a solo architect who welcomes thoughtful builders.

Yes, my project FOOGO, which reimagines Korean soul food as a global packaging experience.

It uses food truck forms as cultural metaphors and applies narrative branding to make K-food accessible worldwide. It’s more than packaging; it’s cultural storytelling in 3D.

I can be contacted through the A’ Design Award messaging system, or through my official online portfolio, which highlights my approach and past work. I welcome collaboration with brands that want to express their soul—not just their surface.

Design is not about making things pretty—it’s about making things feel purposeful. I want to continue creating brand systems that bridge logic and emotion, movement and meaning. One day, I hope to design for an automotive brand whose identity I help bring to life.

The Pass Train Wish Gift Package was designed as more than a simple rice cake gift—it was conceived as an emotional journey that walks alongside examinees. In Korea, gifting sticky rice cakes before exams reflects the wish that one “sticks” to success, but this practice has become somewhat routine and clichéd over time. We sought to retain the essence of this tradition while introducing a fresh narrative structure. The train became our metaphor for a student’s path toward their dreams. Additionally, we included themed “Admission Tickets” (Passion Line, Support Line, Perfect Score Line, Jackpot Line) within the package to emotionally elevate the gift, making it far more than just a snack.

The chimney isn’t just decorative—it encapsulates the symbolic thrust of forward movement, akin to a student’s determination. However, the vertical protrusion posed structural challenges in paper packaging. To solve this, we reinforced the internal frame with dual layering and introduced a locking mechanism beneath the chimney to enhance durability. Through repeated sampling and drop tests, we ensured it would withstand real-world logistics. In the end, this feature became both a visual icon and a technical triumph.

The unboxing unfolds like a train journey—from the locomotive through passenger cars and finally to the terminal station. As recipients open each car, they encounter hidden messages and surprises that echo progress. Inside the main package, a train-ticket-shaped “Admission Ticket” is included as a symbolic accessory—each matching one of four themes: Passion, Support, Perfect Score, and Jackpot. Far from just decoration, these tickets act as psychological tokens of encouragement, reinforcing the examinee’s emotional momentum. The final Terminal Package delivers a satisfying sense of arrival and fulfillment.

Pass Train wasn’t just a product; it was a medium for emotional and cultural storytelling. We used FSC-certified paper, water-based ink, and minimal coatings—not simply for sustainability, but to reflect the purity and warmth embedded in Korea’s rice cake-gifting tradition. The precision die-cutting allowed each part of the train to fit organically, enhancing both tactile experience and visual consistency. This synthesis of environmental consciousness and cultural narrative added meaningful depth beyond the surface of the packaging.

Our research revealed that examinees value practicality and sincerity, while parents prioritize tradition and aesthetics. As a result, we designed the package to be compact and easy to carry, with a modular system allowing each unit to be gifted individually or linked as one cohesive train. The Admission Tickets inside served a dual purpose—motivational tokens for students, and heartfelt gestures for parents to convey emotional support. Every detail, from scale to layout, was tuned to resonate with real users.

The Terminal Package serves as the symbolic closure of the journey. While the four main passenger cars represent moments of support along the way, the Terminal Package encapsulates completion and self-reflection. Its black color carries visual weight, signifying the emotional gravity of reaching one’s goal. Inside, there’s space for a final message or a small gift, allowing senders to personalize the moment. It’s not just about reaching the end—it’s about pausing to recognize the inner growth made throughout the journey.

Initially, we tried using single-layer paper, but tests showed the structure would easily collapse. So, we adopted a dual-board system with corrugated reinforcement on the inside. Delicate components like chimneys, windows, and wheels were constructed separately and inserted later, which boosted both visual precision and physical strength. This method balanced the need for portability with structural integrity, ensuring that the packaging was not only beautiful but robust enough for gifting and transport.

Rice cakes carry the long-standing wish for “sticking” to success, but we felt that this message deserved a more dynamic and resonant form. By integrating the train motif, we created a new symbolic framework that conveys movement, progress, and determination. The included Admission Ticket visually reinforces this, making the recipient feel as if they’re holding a real ticket toward their goals. In doing so, we allowed timeless emotions to be communicated through a modern, story-driven structure.

The Two-Story Signature Package was designed for milestones like college entrance exams, national certification tests, or studying abroad—occasions where a deeper layer of support is called for. The first floor holds the traditional rice cake set, while the second floor accommodates letters or keepsakes, representing “layers of sincerity.” Just as a long-distance train pulls many cars over a great journey, this package symbolizes enduring emotional support and the accumulation of heartfelt wishes.

Rice cakes are more than food—they’re imbued with emotional and cultural meaning. This project taught me that meaningful design is not about replicating tradition but reweaving it into contemporary contexts. By blending the emotional power of rice cakes with the progressive symbolism of trains, and adding Admission Tickets as narrative devices, I learned to design not just for form but for experience. Going forward, I aim to approach cultural motifs not as fixed visuals but as emotional journeys that can be reimagined to create lasting impressions and memorable storytelling through packaging.

The idea for Foogo Packaging Design emerged from a desire to visually and emotionally communicate the warmth and charm of Korean street food culture. Rather than using conventional box packaging, I wanted to encapsulate the experience of buying from a food truck — a dynamic, spontaneous, and deeply human interaction that many Koreans associate with childhood memories. The concept began with nostalgic recollections of lining up at food trucks after school, drawn by the smell of freshly made snacks. I aimed to capture this sensory memory and deliver it through design. During initial ideation, I explored various forms, but the food truck’s iconic silhouette and cultural symbolism stood out. It provided not only a strong visual identity but also allowed me to build a narrative structure into the packaging. By translating the mobility and energy of a food truck into a tangible packaging form, I hoped to create a product that was more than a container — one that carries cultural storytelling.

The choice of multiple vehicle types — caravans, trailers, and vans — was a deliberate strategy to reflect the diversity and richness of Korean soul food. Each type of truck evokes a slightly different street food setting: the cozy intimacy of a trailer parked on a corner, the bustling vibe of a large van during festivals, or the mobile charm of a caravan roaming urban backstreets. These differences helped me assign each truck form to a unique snack within the Foogo lineup. For instance, the compact caravan is used to package the green tea glutinous rice hotteok, a nostalgic and comforting dessert. The van holds the crunchy dalgona snack, associated with a sense of play and energy. The aim was not just to stylize the forms but to ensure that each vehicle’s character metaphorically echoed the sentiment of the food inside. This layering of symbolic vehicle forms with culturally beloved foods added depth and allowed the design to tell a multi-sensory story.

Designing the unboxing experience to mimic a food truck purchase required careful engineering. From the start, I aimed for a playful, interactive reveal — pulling open the side panels like serving windows, unveiling the snack as if receiving it from a vendor. However, these movements had to be structurally sound. Since the packaging used paperboard material, precision in die-cutting and folding became crucial. We tested numerous prototypes to perfect the hinges and handle placement to withstand repeated use without tearing. The biggest challenge was balancing aesthetics with practicality — ensuring the food truck form remained recognizable while providing a secure enclosure for the product. Reinforcement points were added to internal folds, and a locking mechanism was subtly built into the base. This balance allowed us to maintain both storytelling and structural integrity, making the packaging not only beautiful but functional.

Sustainability was a core consideration from the start. I chose eco-friendly paperboard not only for its recyclability but for its tactile resonance with street food culture. Unlike glossy plastics, paperboard evokes the feeling of takeaway boxes, food wrappers, and old-school street food packaging in Korea. This helped create an authentic visual and textural experience. However, using this material came with challenges — it needed to be thick enough to support the structural complexity of the food truck form while remaining light and cost-effective. I sourced FSC-certified boards and worked with manufacturers to test crease durability and print clarity. Furthermore, water-based inks and spot coating techniques were used to enhance specific areas without compromising recyclability. This approach allowed us to stay environmentally responsible while deepening the cultural narrative and emotional engagement of the packaging.

To bridge this gap, I prioritized universality through emotion and specificity through detail. The five snacks selected — green tea glutinous rice hotteok, crunchy dalgona, white milk egg bread, potato hot dog, and sweet potato bungeoppang — are all beloved in Korea and evoke strong childhood memories. But to ensure global accessibility, I highlighted their playful textures, comforting warmth, and nostalgic flavors that transcend language. The visual design avoided overused traditional motifs and instead focused on vibrant street graphics, handwritten-style typography, and warm-toned illustrations that communicate joy and approachability. These elements help international audiences intuitively understand the fun and heartfelt nature of Korean soul food. At the same time, QR codes and interior storytelling panels offer cultural context in both Korean and English, ensuring the authenticity remains intact and inviting.

Street food is inherently mobile — it’s meant to be eaten on the go. I wanted Foogo’s design to capture this essence. The detachable handle was developed after testing how users interacted with the box. We observed that people instinctively grasp the top of a package, especially when it resembles a small object like a toy or lunchbox. By designing a foldable, integrated paperboard handle that locks securely into the top of the box, I created a packaging system that is easy to carry and fun to use. It mimics the act of grabbing a snack from a stall and walking off into the city, allowing users to feel as if they’re part of that vibrant street food scene. The handle is also removable to accommodate display or storage. This feature not only reinforces the narrative of Korean street food’s mobility but adds a tactile layer to the user experience.

Each food item required a different internal structure to protect its form and maintain freshness. Therefore, scaling and dimensional variations were essential. I began by categorizing the snacks based on size, shape, and weight. The bungeoppang and potato hot dog, for instance, needed wider bases and vertical stability, while dalgona, being delicate, required compartmental cushioning. Visually, I scaled the height and width of each vehicle form to maintain consistency across the lineup without making the differences jarring. The silhouettes align when displayed side by side, but the subtle dimensional shifts ensure ergonomic handling and optimal food protection. Aesthetically, I adjusted window placements and panel proportions to balance whitespace and graphics, preserving the toy-like appeal. These deliberate calibrations allowed for a seamless blend of design continuity and functional integrity.

Street food culture in Korea is a balance between rawness and charm — the steam of hot snacks rising against neon signs, the contrast of asphalt streets and shiny wrappers. I wanted the packaging to evoke that tension through texture. By combining matte finishes with selective gloss coatings, I created a surface narrative: matte areas represent the warmth and handmade quality of the food, while gloss accents mimic the bustling city lights and energy of the streets. For instance, the truck windows and logos are finished with gloss to draw attention and simulate condensation, while the rest of the truck body maintains a matte feel for a grounded, earthy impression. These tactile contrasts invite users to not only see but also feel the story. It elevates the packaging from a visual object to a sensory one, deepening engagement.

Having studied automotive form and branding, I’m deeply attuned to how form, proportion, and detail communicate emotion. In designing Foogo, I approached the food truck not just as a box, but as a vehicle with character. I applied automotive design principles — silhouette hierarchy, surface transitions, and functional components — to a packaging context. The result is a form that has realism, charm, and logic. Features like wheel imprints, a stylized grille, and mirror tabs borrow from vehicle detailing, making each box not only representative but also lovable. This design language enables storytelling through shape: each truck feels like a character with its own backstory, matching the food inside. My automotive background allowed me to elevate the packaging beyond novelty, transforming it into a cultural storytelling medium with depth and familiarity.

Foogo demonstrates that packaging can be both a medium of cultural communication and a vehicle of emotional storytelling. As global interest in local cultures grows, I believe more packaging designs will shift toward narrative-driven forms that educate and engage consumers beyond functionality. Foogo’s approach — combining interactivity, character, and cultural nuance — can serve as a model for reinterpreting traditional food experiences in ways that resonate across borders. It shows how design can help reposition humble, everyday snacks as emotionally rich, globally appealing gifts. In the future, I hope to expand Foogo into a series that celebrates diverse cultures and street food stories, inspiring others to view packaging not as a disposable shell, but as a storytelling canvas that connects people through shared memories and values.