Urban Tattoo

This is beautiful

The façades of buildings are constantly changing. Tenants unable to afford the rising rent are forced to leave, and new ones take their place. With each transition, a fresh signboard appears. While this phenomenon isn’t entirely due to COVID-19, the pandemic has certainly accelerated the turnover. If you revisit the locations in my photographs, you’ll immediately notice the changes - some signs have vanished, while others have taken their place. And the cycle continues. Most Koreans dislike buildings covered in garishly colored, cheaply made signboards. To them, these signs are remnants of South Korea’s rapid and often chaotic economic development. The government has even declared them a form of urban pollution and pledged to regulate them. When the South Korean government targets an issue, the effects are swift and dramatic. It’s fair to speculate that these signboards may soon disappear. That urgency compels me to document them before they vanish. These quintessential Korean commercial buildings are found in Suwon and other satellite cities planned urban centers built in the 1990s to alleviate Seoul’s overpopulation. At the time, the government poured immense capital and administrative power into their construction. Aesthetics and architectural diversity were afterthoughts; speed and efficiency were the sole priorities. Ironically, this lack of deliberate urban aesthetics has resulted in a uniquely Korean cityscape. At first glance, the signboards appear kitsch—symbols of intense commercial competition. The lives of South Koreans seem imprinted on these surfaces: bold, colorful, chaotic, and attention-grabbing. Yet in a landscape oversaturated with bright hues, nothing truly stands out. And yet, there’s something else—an unmistakable vitality. These signboards are not just clutter; they are expressions of ambition. Shop owners use vivid colors and bold typography to attract customers, to secure their livelihoods. There is beauty in this dynamic visual language. Rather than viewing these signs solely as relics of a turbulent economic past, I see them as symbols of resilience and aspiration. Behind these signboards are real lives—ordinary South Koreans working tirelessly, not just for themselves but for their families. Each brightly colored sign represents someone’s effort to secure a livelihood, and to carve out a future in an ever-changing urban landscape. As long as these ambitions endure, the surfaces of these buildings will continue to transform. Photographs by Large Format Camera with Slide Film, Digital Scanned Pigment Ink on Fine Art Paper 

Jung Ui Lee