Frederick Kiesler viewed his concept of organic architecture as a “sensual body that one desires to inhabit.” He believed that dynamic relationships exist between space, objects, and human experiences. Carl Jung's vision of a multistory house inspired his idea of the collective unconscious, suggesting it serves as a container for the most fundamental collective symbols. When we move from one house to another, we often search for spaces that evoke familiarity and nostalgia. We arrange furniture, frames, and decorations in ways that resonate with memories from previous homes. We tend to seek new dwellings that resemble the best aspects of our past, our travel experiences, meaningful moments, and even artifacts from the homes of ancestors we never met but are genetically linked to. I intend to harmonize modern architectural traditions with dreams and images associated with space. This exploration extends beyond phenomenology to encompass sensory experiences rooted in nostalgic attachments.

I intend to reconcile the modern tradition with dreams or images associated with space. Beyond phenomenology, sensorial experiences that are derived from nostalgic attachments.

My work emerges from personal narratives rooted in nostalgia. Like the proscenium of a theatrical play, light and materiality become the stage where those memories unfold. Every detail, however small, becomes essential—because the spaces we remember are rarely whole. We recall nooks, corners, framed portions, and fragments.

As a designer, my role is to translate these narratives and distill them into spatial abstractions. The intention is to craft environments that resonate unconsciously with the dweller, echoing what Robert Morris described as the relationship between Object–Space–Dweller at the core of minimalism.

Intelligent systems may assist in reading, interpreting, or even generating narratives, but they remain tools—never the drivers. This is not a postdigital exercise, nor an embrace of emptiness. It avoids radical contextualism as much as it avoids neo-vernacular or neo-modern gestures.

On a broader scale, the site itself becomes part of the staging. A rigorous reading of the terrain, its history, and its surroundings is indispensable to responsible design. Ultimately, the work aims to create abstract spatial conditions where memory, perception, and place converge—quietly yet profoundly.

Construction is the most desirable moment. It is when memories resurface—translated into a new material language. The selection of specific materials and the attention given to details serve as acts of resemblance, allowing past narratives to find contemporary form.

Craftsmanship evolves here: shaped by new technologies, guided by responsible decisions, and strengthened by practices of reuse, adaptation, and low-carbon sustainability. These choices are not simply technical but deeply conceptual, grounding the design in ethical and environmental awareness.

A building under construction is an open book. Its bones and infrastructures lie exposed, revealing a raw landscape of possibilities. In this moment of becoming, the process becomes an experiment—one that not only reinterprets memory but also generates the foundations for future ones.

Coziness is shaped by comfort and by the intimate experiences that unfold within individual spaces—the favorite warm nook where we, or even our pets, slip into a quiet nap. These small territories of belonging become markers of daily life.

A dwelling is never static. It evolves with the aging of its inhabitants, with new needs, and with shifting circumstances. Spatial assumptions must be tested, rephrased, and reimagined as life reshapes the way spaces are used and understood.

When a house receives new owners, the cycle begins again. Their memories, habits, and rituals inscribe a new layer of identity onto the same architectural framework.

Flexibility, therefore, is inherent to the program. Spaces must hold the capacity to morph—gently, gradually, and responsibly—as time, memory, and occupation redefine their meaning.

“In the large-scale work Nest/s, Suh has stitched together a series of in-between spaces and rooms from buildings in Seoul, New York, London and Berlin. He connects them to form one continuous, impossible architecture. Suh calls these works, made using traditional Korean sewing techniques, ‘fabric architectures’. Through this process, Suh can pack up and transport spaces, fulfilling his desire to ‘fit my childhood home into a suitcase’. You are invited to enter the work and consider your own journeys through different spaces, types of architecture, cities and neighborhoods”.

@Tate Gallery London, UK, 2025.

https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/the-genesis-exhibition-do-ho-suh/exhibition-guide