The Story of Our Dangjeong-ri House in Seocheon
There is a house surrounded by pine and persimmon trees.
This house was built the year I turned five.
I grew up hearing my mother's regretful words about how my father spent all his money and time building this house, so he couldn't send me to daycare.
Still, I have many fond memories of this house.
I still vividly remember when construction was nearing completion, holding my father's hand as we stepped over the bathroom threshold, and asking, "Dad, is this Grandpa's house now?"
Grandpa, who had been a teacher in his youth, would gather his grandchildren during holidays and host a Golden Bell quiz. I don't quite remember what questions he asked, but I recall being the youngest and winning first place. My wish was for Grandpa to carry me on his back.
We'd divide into teams with my cousins, separated by the green gate, and play war games. We wielded all sorts of farm tools lying in the yard as weapons and fought battles where winning or losing didn't matter, just having fun.
Back then, just like now, I was a crybaby. My cousins would tease me, counting how many times I cried in a day. Feeling hurt, I'd be alone, so my dad made me a swing by hanging a rope from the pine trees in front of our house. There, I could spend happy, private moments crying or laughing alone, without anyone teasing me.
I stacked leftover bricks from the second-floor rooftop construction like an igloo, laid a mat inside, and made my own little house. I came downstairs and told everyone to come to my new house on the second floor, but no one ever came. Feeling a little disappointed, I played alone. After quite some time, Mom came up carrying a Del Monte orange juice bottle. Maybe Mom and I knew then that this house would become my home.
It's been 25 years since this house was built.
Many changes have happened in the meantime. The grandmother who used to lie in the heated room by the stove fire and watch wrestling matches passed away ten years ago. The grandmother who used to lie in the heated room by the stove fire and watch wrestling matches passed away ten years ago.
Many changes have occurred since then. Grandma, who used to lie in the heated room warmed by the hearth fire while watching wrestling matches, passed away ten years ago. Grandpa, who built a plastic greenhouse in the backyard to raise goats and chickens, passed away last Chuseok. Traces of the second floor, built with the intention of running a guesthouse, remain like ruins.
Amidst all these comings and goings, the pine and persimmon trees grow luxuriantly. Every year, the persimmon tree bears abundant fruit, and the pine trees, majestic and splendid in every season—spring, summer, autumn, winter—surround the house.
What can I do with this house now?
Yesterday, I visited the house in Dangjeong-ri, Seocheon, with Ga-young, who works on new spatial ventures at the construction company, and Min-jin, who primarily designs renovations for old buildings.
We measured every corner inside and outside the house with tape measures and blueprints. They called this a site survey. I learned how to measure high ceilings with a tape measure. While surveying, Min-jin and I freely imagined possibilities for this house as our canvas. They talked about how cool it would be to project movies onto the wall of the small outbuilding intended as an external bathroom. They imagined opening up the basement space and using the pine forest courtyard to create a workshop. They pictured knocking down the walls between the living room and the main bedroom to create a large window overlooking the pine and persimmon trees.
After all these imaginings, I could almost feel a fun group gathering in this house right away. But there are still many problems to solve. The biggest problem, of course, is money. To realize an architect's imagination, you ultimately need sufficient funds. As a five-year office worker, the money I can use right now is just over five thousand. With that amount, it's not easy to renovate a house of this scale as imagined. I need to raise funds.
Where should I start to secure funding? For now, I'll leave this written record. I wonder how this seed of imagination might spread. Standing before this completely new endeavor, the fear is greater, but there's nothing I can't do. As long as I don't give up, as long as I don't back down in fear.