The water here does not rage. Instead, it simmers coldly, rising into a thick fog. The water here does not rush. Thanks to its leisurely pace, the sunlight shatters easily upon the surface, glistening like silk. This place is Yangsu-ri, known in pure Korean as Dumulmeori (the Head of Two Waters).
This project involves the extension of an old house that has stood for over 50 years at the confluence where the North Han River and the South Han River meet. To view the wet fog and the shimmering ripples (Yunseul) from the living quarters, a height of three stories or more would have been required. However, for the client who preferred the joy of stepping on the soil of the nearby courtyard over gazing at distant waters, we chose to connect the existing house horizontally rather than vertically.
We decided to remove the leaking hip roof of the existing house but preserve the masonry walls to use as structural elements. Since the spatial units divided by the existing walls were not large, the old house was designated for use as bedrooms, a study, a red clay room (Hwangto-bang), a dressing room, and restrooms. Meanwhile, the living room and kitchen were planned for the horizontally extended space.
The roof maintains the form of the existing hip roof, with variations applied only to the extended horizontal section. In a village of fewer than twenty households, a drastic change in the appearance of an old house would cause ripples like a stone thrown into calm water; thus, we decided to continue the familiar landscape of the village.
To go beyond merely viewing the courtyard and actively step out to enjoy it, a Toenmaru (Korean-style veranda) runs along the entire front of the house. While most of the exterior is finished in wood, the Toenmaru is finished with concrete. This was done to withstand driving rain and also to retain warm thermal energy when hit by sunlight.
The upper eaves project about 20cm beyond the Toenmaru. This serves the dual purpose of protecting the wooden exterior materials and providing enough distance to enjoy sitting on the veranda while staying dry when it rains.
The nature at Dumulmeori is impeccable; it possesses a beauty that one never tires of. Anything tiring or excessive usually comes from people. The house is located near the Dumulmeori parking lot, a place overflowing with cars and people on weekends. Given the location where the rudeness or curiosity of meddlesome passersby frequently comes into play, the client’s daily life needed protection unless they voluntarily chose otherwise.
Therefore, while the windows were designed to be large and connect to the Toenmaru like those in a traditional Hanok, we added wooden louvered doors (Gansalmun) in front of them to screen external gazes. When all the louvered doors are closed, the house becomes somewhat exclusive and reticent. On a sunny weekday afternoon, if one feels a longing for human connection, the windows and louvered doors can be thrown open to welcome passersby.
The concept of the external louvered doors continues inside. If the exterior louvers are an architectural device to block incoming gazes while opening outward views and admitting light, the interior louvers are an architectural device for spatial connection and expansion.
The primary finishing material of this house is wood. Distinguishing between new wood and old wood—material that once held life—is a futile endeavor. In that sense, there seems to be no material better than wood for repairing an old house, expanding it, and connecting it to the present time.
