Many hospitality typologies (hotels, spas, restaurants…) still rely on conventional models. Which of these do you see as most ripe for disruption in Korea, and how would your architectural lens reinvent its role?

In Korea, I see the mid-scale, three to four-star hotel as the typology most ripe for disruption. At the moment, the market feels polarised: on one side, high-end luxury hotels; on the other, budget motels and economy stays. The middle ground has long been underdeveloped, and when it does exist, it often feels generic in both design and operation.

Yet this is precisely where the opportunity lies. I believe mid-scale hotels should evolve into hybrid community hubs – places that seamlessly integrate wellness, work, and culture into the guest experience. Rather than being detached from everyday life, they should connect closely with local lifestyles and rhythms, becoming extensions of the community itself.

At Studio Eccentric, we approach these projects by reframing the guest journey as a layered narrative, where each moment reveals a different facet of place, culture, or design. In doing so, the mid-scale hotel can transcend its conventional role, transforming into a space where cultural authenticity and urban life intersect – helping to redefine what hospitality means in the Korean context.

With globalization leading to increasingly generic hospitality experiences, how can Korea’s unique approach to contrast, juxtaposition, and reinterpretation create destinations that feel truly unexpected and eccentric?

Korea is a place defined by contrast – between old and new, modest and bold, ritual simplicity and technological speed. These juxtapositions aren’t just incidental; they’re central to the country’s aesthetic language, and they hold enormous potential for hospitality design.

Globalisation often flattens difference, producing experiences that feel interchangeable from one destination to another. But Korea thrives on tension – between tradition and modernity, rawness and refinement, slowness and acceleration. It’s precisely in these contrasts that something unexpected and eccentric can emerge, offering travellers experiences they simply won’t find elsewhere.

Our studio embodies this philosophy quite literally. We’re based in a traditional market – raw, chaotic, and deeply local – yet just next door rise sleek luxury towers. That friction between worlds, far from being a drawback, inspires us. It reminds us that hospitality in Korea can, and should, embrace the unpredictable, weaving together opposites to create spaces that surprise and delight.

This idea of contrast and eccentricity is also embedded in our identity as Studio Eccentric. For us, hospitality design isn’t about smoothing edges or conforming to global norms; it’s about amplifying difference, turning cultural tension into beauty, and crafting experiences that feel both deeply Korean and strikingly original to a global audience.

Your design language bridges radical Western geometry with the subtle harmony of Eastern aesthetics. How can this tension inform future hospitality spaces that need to resonate emotionally with both local guests and global audiences?

For me, the design language of Studio Eccentric has always been shaped by my own background – growing up between Western and Eastern cultures. That dual exposure naturally evolved into a dialogue in my work: radical Western geometry meeting the subtle harmony of Eastern aesthetics.

Western forms, with their boldness and sculptural presence, give a sense of striking visual impact. Eastern sensibilities, by contrast, bring nuance – proportion, emptiness, restraint, and harmony of colour. When these two worlds are brought together, they create a kind of dual rhythm: spaces that feel iconic and memorable to a global audience, yet also deeply resonant and familiar to local guests.

This tension, I believe, can point towards a new direction for hospitality. Future spaces should not only impress visually but also connect emotionally – balancing the sculptural and the subtle, the dramatic and the quiet. In my projects, whether interiors or furniture, I’m always exploring this balance: pushing form towards the bold and expressive, while grounding it in Korean sensibility. That interplay of opposites, I think, is where hospitality design can discover its most powerful and authentic voice.

Your studio’s location in Gyeongdong Market embodies a dialogue between tradition and foreignness. How does this duality influence your vision for hospitality spaces that must feel deeply local yet remain universally engaging?

Our studio sits in a 70-year-old brick building at the heart of the Gyeongdong Market, the largest and busiest traditional market in Korea. On one side we run our office, and alongside us is The Willow, an art space hosting experimental exhibitions and performances. This coexistence of tradition and creativity constantly shapes our perspective.

Being rooted in such a raw, everyday environment is intentional. The market keeps us closely connected to the rhythms of Korean daily life, while also reminding us to think globally. It’s a place where cultures, histories, and communities collide – where the local feels alive, but always in dialogue with the wider world.

This duality directly informs our vision for hospitality. We aim to design spaces that feel deeply anchored in place – immersed in the textures, rituals, and atmospheres of Korea – yet remain open, cosmopolitan, and universally engaging. In many ways, the Gyeongdong Market itself embodies the balance we strive for: tradition evolving in real time, resonating both locally and globally.

As sustainability becomes central to design, how might Korean traditions of resourcefulness – like Jogakbo’s reuse of leftover fabrics – shape new material strategies and spatial narratives for future hospitality projects?

Korean traditions like Jogakbo show that resourcefulness can be both practical and poetic. Reusing leftover fabrics wasn’t just about necessity. It was also an act of creativity and beauty. For future hospitality design, this offers a model: sustainability shouldn’t be limited to recycling materials, but can become a cultural and aesthetic strategy, making environmental responsibility emotionally engaging for guests.

At Studio Eccentric, we often experiment with additive reuse, reassembling materials to give constraints a narrative role in our designs. By embracing resourcefulness as both a design strategy and a storytelling tool, we can create spaces where sustainability feels meaningful, layered, and deeply connected to cultural tradition.