© Mancuso e Serena Architetti Associati. Courtesy of ARKO
Arts Archive, Arts Council Korea.
“Between paths, between houses, between trees,
layering the future upon the past, merging it with
the present to create newness.”
— Kim Seok Chul, sketch notes for the design of
the Korean Pavilion, estimated early 1990s
The Korean Pavilion at La Biennale is the product of
a collaboration of the late Korean architect Kim
Seok Chul and Italian architect Franco Mancuso. It
is the last of the 29 national pavilions built in
the Giardini, overcoming nearly impossible
constraints at the time of its construction. The
pavilion, an extension of a historic brick building
within the Giardini, is an irregular steel-framed
glass structure that does not resemble a typical
exhibition hall. The Korean Pavilion, with its
distinctive features—transparent body, free-flowing
curves instead of rigid lines, and a foundation that
appears to float lightly above the
ground—significantly diverges from conventional
white cubes. For this reason, artists and curators
have described the pavilion as resembling a “living
room of a house” rather than a standard exhibition
space.
The distinctive planar shape and layout of the Korean Pavilion resulted from a strict guideline that not a single tree on the site be harmed during construction. Meanwhile, the Korean Pavilion was initially constructed under an agreement with the City of Venice that it would serve as a permanently open public space for Venetian citizens. Considering Venice is a city built atop foundations made of wooden piles, trees are not merely design constraints but a reflection of the city’s survival history. The architecture of the Korean Pavilion, completed with respect for the trees and the land, embodies architectural values of transparency, lightness, and mobility—qualities often associated with the future of architecture itself.
Many of these hidden stories surrounding the pavilion’s design have come to light through the donation of archival materials by Franco Mancuso to the Korean government in 2023. This rediscovery has sparked renewed discussions about the Korean Pavilion, which had long been undervalued as an exhibition space by curators and artists alike. The motif of the “tree” has become a medium that overlays the history of the city with the future of architecture, as well as a key unfolding thread for Little Toad, Little Toad: Unbuilding Pavilion.
The distinctive planar shape and layout of the Korean Pavilion resulted from a strict guideline that not a single tree on the site be harmed during construction. Meanwhile, the Korean Pavilion was initially constructed under an agreement with the City of Venice that it would serve as a permanently open public space for Venetian citizens. Considering Venice is a city built atop foundations made of wooden piles, trees are not merely design constraints but a reflection of the city’s survival history. The architecture of the Korean Pavilion, completed with respect for the trees and the land, embodies architectural values of transparency, lightness, and mobility—qualities often associated with the future of architecture itself.
Many of these hidden stories surrounding the pavilion’s design have come to light through the donation of archival materials by Franco Mancuso to the Korean government in 2023. This rediscovery has sparked renewed discussions about the Korean Pavilion, which had long been undervalued as an exhibition space by curators and artists alike. The motif of the “tree” has become a medium that overlays the history of the city with the future of architecture, as well as a key unfolding thread for Little Toad, Little Toad: Unbuilding Pavilion.