HAKMIN LEE BRINGS HARIBO JELLIES AND CARTOONS INTO COLLECTIBLE DESIGN

Hakmin Lee is a Seoul-based designer and one of the most fun voices working in Korean design right now. He runs studio HAK, where the thinking goes that people connect deeper with objects that carry a bit of wit and breathing room, rather than being flawlessly serious. When a familiar piece of furniture unexpectedly throws a bit of humor at you, it brightens up an ordinary day.

The heart of his work is in subculture. Toys, cartoons, and characters are where he believes the public feels enjoyment in the most intuitive and pure way. Rather than the grand aesthetics defined by design history, he sees visual languages like Haribo jellies, emojis, or bolts and nuts holding a stronger emotional connection for people today. He’s fascinated by the uncanny energy that comes when the boundaries between high art and subculture blur, and mass-produced, kitsch elements get remade within a craft context. It’s a philosophy that puts him at the complete opposite end of the contemplative, material-driven register we usually see in Korean design, and it’s exactly why we love his work.

The craft underneath is what makes it all believable. Hakmin trained in metal craft at Kookmin University before conceptual design at Design Academy Eindhoven, and both live in his process today. Each piece starts with observing the ordinary plastic objects and icons around him, then moves through hand drawings and 3D modeling, prototyping with 3D printing and hand-crafting, and casting at an aluminum foundry. Back in the studio, every piece gets hand-polished, sanded, and refined until it comes together as a finished object.

We talked with Hakmin about his path from Kookmin to Eindhoven and back to Seoul, his years designing for Anthropologie, and where studio HAK is heading next.

Read the full conversation below.

You started studio HAK with the idea of bringing humor and irreverence into everyday objects. Where does that come from, and why did objects feel like the right place to put it?

Design and craft often feel a bit too serious or purely functional. But I think people connect deeper with an object when it has a bit of wit and breathing room, rather than being flawlessly serious. I’ve always loved observing subcultures and everyday items. Objects are things we live with and touch every day, so when a familiar piece of furniture unexpectedly throws a bit of humor at you, it instantly brightens up an ordinary day. That’s why I chose objects as my medium.

Your training went from metal craft at Kookmin to conceptual design at Eindhoven. Those are pretty different ways of thinking about making. How do both show up in your work now?

My metal craft training at Kookmin University built my foundation in ‘skill and materiality’. My experience at Eindhoven, on the other hand, taught me to focus on the context. My work now is a mix of both. I use a contextual design process but build it out with craft skills to make it visually and physically perfect. For me, the most important thing is turning an interesting concept into a solid object.

A lot of your references come from toys, cartoons, figures, and street culture rather than the usual design canon. What is it about that world that pulls you in?

Sub-cultures like toys, cartoons, and characters are areas where the public feels enjoyment in the most intuitive and pure way. Rather than the grand aesthetics defined by design history, I believe visual languages like Haribo jellies, emojis, or bolts and nuts provide modern people with a stronger emotional connection. I am fascinated by the uncanny energy generated when the boundaries between high art and subculture are blurred, and mass-produced, kitsch elements are replaced within a craft context.

How does a piece actually come together in your studio, from the first idea to the finished object?

The work usually begins with observing ordinary, everyday plastic objects or icons around me. Once an idea is set, I sketch the proportions and structure of the form using digital tools (such as 3D modeling) and hand drawings. Next, I create prototypes using 3D printing and hand-crafting, which are then sent to a casting foundry to produce the aluminum. Back in the studio, these pieces undergo a hand-polishing, sanding, and refining process by hands, finally coming together as finished furniture or objects.

You’ve worked a lot with casting. What draws you to it, and what does that process let you do that other methods wouldn’t?

Casting allows for the relatively easy realization of complex forms that are difficult to achieve through standard sheet metal work. Depending on the processing method, it can showcase a dramatic spectrum, ranging from the characteristic cold luster of metal to a rough, hand-textured sandy finish. This makes it the perfect process for simultaneously expressing both the wit of my designs and a sense of material weight.

You spent time at Eindhoven and then designing for Anthropologie before coming back to Seoul to start your own studio. How did those experiences shape the way you make things now, and how has your approach changed since you went out on your own?

Returning to Seoul to run an independent studio freed me from the pressures of ‘production efficiency’ and gave me the freedom to experiment with the boundaries between craft and industry, which is what I truly wanted to do. While I previously focused on designing within an established system, I now approach my work as an independent artist, pushing the original prototype of an idea to its absolute completion by my own hands without any compromise.

Your pieces are playful, but they always hold up as real objects rather than just a joke. How much of that comes down to the making and the materials themselves?

That is the point I care about the most. The more lightweight and humorous an idea is, the more intensely serious and overwhelming the material and finish must be to actualize it. It is only when a playful form meets the heavy weight, cold metallicity, and exquisite hand-craftsmanship of aluminum casting that it achieves a sense of unexpectedness through contrast. Without the support of material authenticity and high-quality execution, humor merely ends up as a joke. The craftsmanship is what truly allows the playfulness of the form to shine.

You were one of the first Korean designers Objects With Narratives worked with, and you ended up helping open the door for more. How did that come about, and what’s it meant to you?

Our relationship began naturally when the OWN team took an interest in how my work combines narrative and materiality. My approach aligned perfectly with their philosophy, which values the ‘narrative’ embedded in design and the level of craft execution. When OWN participated in Design Miami/ Seoul, marking their first time joining a fair in Korea, I had the opportunity to take part alongside them. It was wonderful to collaborate on a project with them here in Korea, and above all, I take great personal pride in the fact that it served as an opportunity to introduce the unique, creative energy of the Korean design scene to the world.

Where do you feel your work is heading next?

Beyond aluminum casting, I am currently experimenting with combining a variety of different materials. This includes the “Bold Bolt” series made from brass sheets, and vases created by pressing copper sheets. While maintaining my characteristic formal humor, I want to introduce pieces that are structurally bolder and visually more refined, continuing to blur the boundaries between craft and industry.


Photos by Jandee Kim and Hakmin Lee