*Teo Yang, portrait by Jonathan Leijonhufvud.*

Teo Yang is a multidisciplinary designer whose work focuses on translating Korean tradition and heritage into a modern design language. He is the founder of Teo Yang Studio, a design firm based in Seoul. He studied Interior Architecture Design at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and Environmental Design at Art Center College of Design. Upon graduating, he began his career in vibrant cities such as Amsterdam, Berlin, and Los Angeles, where he designed luxury interiors for boutique hotels and private residences. Eventually, he returned to Seoul and established Teo Yang Studio in 2009. The studio is housed in a traditional Korean Hanok, seamlessly integrating its unique architectural heritage with a carefully curated collection of antique and contemporary art. Teo Yang Studio has gained international recognition, having been featured in three Phaidon volumes, receiving the AD100 award from Architectural Digest in 2022, and being shortlisted for Dezeen’s Interior Designer of the Year award in 2024. As a multidisciplinary designer, Teo Yang has expanded the realm of design through the creation of brands such as Eastern Edition Furniture, EATH Library Skincare, and Sinang Scent — all inspired by Korean tradition and lifestyle. His work ranges from interior and furniture design to cultural consulting and brand direction, always rooted in a deep respect for Korean heritage.

LUCIJA ŠUTEJ: You’ve mentioned that you initially wanted to become an archaeologist. How did this early fascination with archaeology shape your approach to design? How do you incorporate archaeological principles—like studying layers of history—into your design process?

TEO YANG: I was always deeply interested in history, specifically the artifacts and art that came before me. From an early age, I was naturally drawn to these beautiful objects, and that interest gradually evolved into a passion for design. I remember being fascinated by ceramics and even playing a little game where I’d bury ceramic pieces in the playground, dig them up a week later, and tell my parents I’d discovered ancient artifacts. They humored me and thought archeology would be a great career for me. But as I grew older, my interests shifted toward art and design. My parents were supportive and took me to museums and galleries, which helped nurture my growing passion for design. Becoming a designer felt like a natural progression from my passion for archeology.

LŠ: Are there specific archaeological discoveries and/or historical periods that have had a lasting impact on your work?

TY: Yes, I draw most of my inspiration from Korean traditions, heritage, and the lifestyle of our ancestors—particularly from the Joseon Dynasty. The era’s aesthetics, especially the philosophy of Korean minimalism known as Mumi (Mu: nothingness, Mi: aesthetic), have had a profound influence on my design approach.

Mu represents both the beginning and end of all things—a continuous cycle of creation and extinction. In traditional Korean architecture, especially in hanok, this concept is embodied through margins—spaces that appear empty, yet are filled with potential, presence, and meaning. Deeply rooted in Buddhist and Taoist thought, these margins are not voids but spaces that invite imagination.

The beauty of a hanok lies in its simplicity and harmony. Each architectural element is subtle and understated, coming together to form a cohesive whole. Its lines are clean and minimalist—reminiscent of Mondrian, yet expressed in the black-and-white tones of ink-wash painting.

This calm and restrained elegance does not come from ornamentation but from confidence and intention. In hanok, this sense of ease and balance is made possible when the artist, the client, and the viewer all share a mutual respect for space, silence, and meaning. It is this pursuit of natural, uncontrived beauty that continues to shape my work today.

*Teo Yang Studio, photo by Jonathan Leijonhufvud.*

LŠ: Do you ever visit archeological sites as part of your research or design process?

TY: It is hard to visit archeological sites, but I visit many museums, old temples, and historic houses from the 16th and 18th centuries for inspiration such as Muryangsa, Dosan Seowon and Kansong Art Museum. As a designer, my focus has shifted, but I still draw from history in my work.

LŠ: What motivated you to open your studio in 2009? Was there a particular gap or opportunity in South Korea’s creative scene that you wanted to address?

TY: When I first opened the studio, I had just returned from Europe and the U.S. I went to school in the U.S. and did my internship in Amsterdam, working for Marcel Wanders. Coming back to Korea, I noticed that Seoul is a very fast-changing city that celebrates evolution and advancement. It’s a very different and contrasting concept from tradition and local values. I started my studio in 2009, in a residential area with a very traditional setting, yet even this neighbourhood couldn’t escape the changes of the city.

Beautiful housing were turning into shops, old trees were being cut down, and I was confronted with these issues of rapid urban development. I had to come up with ideas on how to address these issues as a designer and show beautiful solutions that could convey to modern-day people that tradition and local values are something we need to preserve and see as an asset. That’s how we started, and this notion remains our mission: to archive and study tradition, modernize it, and create something new and international.

LŠ: Were there specific books, works of art, or conversations that have shaped Teo Yang Studio’s principles?

TY: I love to read, and even nowadays, I’ve been participating in a book club. I’m one of the book club leaders, which means I am choosing what to read and discuss. It’s hard to pinpoint one book- In Praise of Shadows by Jun'ichirō Tanizaki, Atmospheres by Peter Zumthor, and several other books written in Korean that explore Korean heritage, lifestyle, philosophy, art history, architecture, and craft.

Beyond books, I’m inspired by architects like Axel Vervoordt, a Belgian architect who conveys the idea of finding a balance between the old and new. Further, Neri&Hu, a China-based architecture firm, taps into issues of city development and the tension that emerges between the past and the new. These are the people I look to for inspiration. I enjoy reading their articles and interviews to ensure I’m on the right path and that my work contributes to society, and is not just creating something pretty. Design is about creating beautiful solutions to enhance people’s lives. Our studio aims to share the idea of using tradition as an asset—rediscovering Korean tradition and modernizing it into a contemporary language that is visual, and whose meaning resonates internationally.

LŠ: To date, you have worked and intervened in different built landscapes, from private residential spaces to museums, cafes, and festivals. What projects to date have you found the most challenging?

TY: Every project is a challenge because every space is different. We never get the same space to work with, and each location has its history. As a designer, you have a huge responsibility to utilize time and money, especially other people’s time and money, to create something meaningful on that site. So every project is a huge challenge-but it’s also a learning process. A memorable project was the Blue Bottle Coffee store in Korea, which was built in a traditional house. The brief for this project revolved around capturing the distinctive charm of its location at the end of a quiet alleyway while introducing the hospitality experience unique to the Blue Bottle Studio, the fourth of its kind globally. It was a meaningful challenge to weave these elements together into a cohesive narrative that would resonate with visitors.

We approached the project with the vision of creating an urban oasis—a space where time feels as though it has paused, allowing guests to step away from the city's hustle and immerse themselves in a tranquil, welcoming atmosphere.We hoped this space would serve as an oasis for those navigating the fast-paced modern world—a place where visitors could momentarily step away from the rush of time as soon as they entered.

In a time where everything moves at such high speed, we felt it was essential to create a space where people could find a sense of stability and belonging. The concept, A Blue House in the Alley: Opening the Door to Time, aimed to craft a narrative where visitors could encounter a house that transcends time within the forgotten alleyways. A key aspect of the concept was ensuring that, while the space felt discreet and hidden, it offered a welcoming and hospitable experience for every guest who discovered it. At the same time, we hoped to evoke the joy of peeking into a secret world, making this sense of discovery an integral part of the project.

To achieve this, we introduced a newly designed central courtyard garden and added lighting to brighten the space in the evening, ensuring it remained warm and inviting at all hours. These elements combined to create an atmosphere of calm, intrigue, and hospitality.

*Blue Bottle Studio, courtesy Teo Yang Studio.*

LŠ: Your studio’s location—a traditional hanok that is also simultaneously your home—has been well-documented. This space effortlessly merges living and working environment while also functioning as a gallery, research center, and cultural hub. What inspired you to unite these roles under one roof, and how does this integration shape your creative practice?

TY: The hanok—han means Korean, and ok means house—is a traditional Korean home that serves as a kind of laboratory for us. It teaches us about the wisdom embedded in vernacular architecture, which reflects the history, climate, and culture of its site. Living here has taught me so much about how to live in harmony with the environment. You have to experience all four seasons to truly understand the house’s value—how the light changes from morning to night, how the space adapts to different weather conditions. It’s like a guidebook for thinking as a Korean and understanding the philosophy behind the house. I feel fortunate to live and work in this setting.

LŠ: What challenges did you face when renovating the hanok into a home and studio?

TY: The main challenge was deciding what to preserve and what to change. I had to study the history of the house, understand its core aesthetics, and determine which materials and structural elements to keep. It was a learning process because I wasn’t formally educated in these aspects of traditional architecture. But it was worth it—living here has allowed me to experiment and learn without the pressure of making mistakes on a client’s project.

LŠ: Further (as mentioned), the hanok also occasionally functions as a gallery space—hosting selected exhibitions. How do you choose collaborators to present work in such an intimate setting?

TY: You are right and as we’re a very intimate and discreet studio, we’re selective about what we show and who we invite. Last year, we hosted a pop-up event with Frieze Masters in our hanok. It was the third year of Frieze Seoul, and Frieze Masters suggested holding the event at our studio. We invited galleries such as Axel Vervoodt, Gallery du Monde and Les Enluminures participating in Frieze Masters to bring one of their works and display it in our house. The event was primarily for Frieze VIPs, but it also gave exhibitors visiting Korea a chance to experience authentic Korean culture. Collaborations like this are meaningful because they align with our goal of sharing what’s authentic and real about Korea.

LŠ: Your design often involves collaborations, for example you recently partnered with Fendi on Peekaboo Bag. What kind of shared vision or mission do you look for in a collaborator?

TY: The most important question I ask is, “Why collaborate?” For example, when Fendi approached me to design a version of their Peekaboo bag for Art Basel, I wanted to understand why we needed another iteration of an already iconic design. We explored the history of women’s representation in Korean art and how societal norms have shaped those images. The bag became a tool to convey these ideas, encouraging people to think about what they purchase and how it reflects their identity. Fendi was open to this approach, and it’s a good example of how our collaborations aim to spread meaningful messages.

LŠ: Your work bridges the past, present, and future, preserving crafts and heritage while bringing them into the contemporary world. Are there specific traditional techniques or materials you see as being at risk of being lost?

TY: There are sadly so many. For instance, our studio is involved in projects with the Chanel Cultural Foundation to help artisans preserve their crafts. The 2023 edition, was titled Woobomanri - An Enduring Walk Towards Purity, while in 2024 we presented The Craft of Temperature & Sound: A Guide to The Four Seasons. Many artisans struggle to find students or materials. For example, we worked with artisans (in 2023, the artisan was Kideok Han with the young artist of the year Dongjun Kim and a year later, the artisan was Hyeonggu Jung with young artist of the year Jimin Park) who use cow horns to create thin slices for furniture or jewellery. In the past, cows were raised for their horns, but now they’re raised for meat, so the horns are smaller and less usable. It’s not just about losing techniques but also losing the materials themselves. We need to document these processes and find solutions to revive forgotten crafts. Thankfully, there’s a growing interest in handmade objects as people seek to reconnect with human-made things in an AI-driven world.

*Ceramics by Dongjun Kim, courtesy of Chanel Cultural Fund.*

*Crafted by Kideok Han, courtesy of Chanel Cultural Fund.*

*Crafted by Hyeonggu Jung, courtesy Studio Her.*

*Crafted by Jimin Park, courtesy Studio Her.*

LŠ: During the pandemic you launched the furniture line Eastern Edition-what was the motivation?

TY: Traditional Korean furniture-making is also at risk of being lost. Eastern Edition is based on three principles: preserving and spreading Korean narrative and philosophy, preserving Korean craft, and rediscovering local materials. We use furniture as a medium to highlight Korean aesthetics and offer international audiences new options.

*Dansoon Collection - Boryo Dining Chair, Eastern Edition.*

*Dansoon Collection - Lounge, Eastern Edition.*

LŠ: You’ve mentioned that Eastern Edition reinterprets traditional lifestyles for urban living. What specific traditions or principles guide this reinterpretation?

TY: One principle I often reference is “mu-mi,” which means “no taste.” It’s about focusing on what’s essential. In a world dominated by trends and excess, this philosophy encourages minimalism and balance. We aim to convey this idea through our designs, showing that we don’t need everything—just the essentials.

LŠ: The exquisite pottery collection by the Eastern Edition line is particularly striking. How did your interest in pottery begin, and do you plan to expand this collection?

TY: I’ve always been drawn to ceramics. Korean art has a rich history of pottery, and I was exposed to it early on. The Eastern Edition pottery collection features four styles from different historical periods. I wanted to introduce people to the characteristics of these styles and help them develop their own preferences. It started as an educational tool, and now we’re exploring how to expand on each style to create new designs. Among them, I’m currently focusing on the white porcelain of the Joseon Dynasty.

LŠ: To date, you have curated exhibitions, organized craft festivals, and redesigned museums. How do you see the role of curatorial practice in protecting and promoting craft culture?

TY: Curatorial work came naturally to me because of my love for tradition and craft. It’s about creating connections and presenting narratives in fresh, spatial ways. As designers, we don’t limit ourselves to residential or commercial projects—we explore different paths while staying true to our mission of rediscovering tradition.

LŠ: Have you ever considered establishing an educational entity within your studio to pass on your knowledge and design approach?

TY: I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure if that’s my role. I hope other designers see the issues we tackle and find their own solutions. I want to inspire people to take an interest in tradition and pass it on to future generations. I don’t want to create an institution because I believe passion for tradition should come naturally. Only those with real passion can create meaningful change.

TEO YANG

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