Emergence of Jeonsan
Jeonsan is his real name. Following in his father’s footsteps, he began his vocational life at nineteen as a carpenter on construction sites after graduating from an alternative school. For three years, he adhered to a disciplined regimen, rising at 4 a.m. to be on-site by 6 a.m. It was in this environment that he mastered a method and a sensibility, learning to move his hands and body with thoughtful deliberation. Yet, he yearned for more in his life. He was driven by a desire to learn something meaningful, not to construct houses that satisfied floor-area ratios while disregarding the lives inside them, and not to execute drawings authored by someone else. He enrolled later than most at the Paju Typography Institute, known as PaTI. He chose alternative schools for both high school and university. Having deliberately stayed outside the mainstream education system, he chose to cultivate his own terrain rather than assimilate as a conventional designer or member of society. His education and his life, were choices he made deliberately. My first personal encounter with Jeonsan was at a small exhibition at the TMO Shop in Seoul Station. Bookshelves in bright, playful colors, like sheets of colored paper, were stacked in tiers of one, two, three. The space was nearly empty. Jeonsan sat quietly in a corner, occasionally glancing at visitors, with no attempt to explain his work or sell anything. He was extremely shy. The shelves, made of colored homaika and titled Color Shelves, attracted little attention. That was when he realized: furniture simply doesn’t sell. Only a handful of Color Shelves were sold, and then someone posted his work on Instagram. Unexpectedly, the bookshelf began circulating through social media feeds. Posts quickly grew into the hundreds, and followers steadily increased, eventually surpassing forty thousand as of March 2023. What started as a sole proprietorship design studio came to be recognized as a brand, Jeonsan System. At a certain point, revenue from furniture sales overtook income from design services. That moment led him to another realization: “Things cannot be done halfway. They must be done properly.” A search for “Jeonsan System” now returns hundreds of reviews. Information about his furniture circulates through online communities, parenting forums, local resale platforms and secondhand marketplaces. He achieved something long considered difficult within furniture design. It’s something that’s not difficult to attempt in fields like fashion, textiles, stationery or publishing. To do so required understanding the nature of furniture as a product category: (1) Furniture is not purchased seasonally (sold infrequently); (2) Prices are high (sold infrequently); (3) Packaging is complex (requires custom oversized boxes); (4) Shipping damage is common (demands professional delivery); and as a result, (5) It rarely fits into existing distribution systems. Jeonsan ultimately reached a clear conclusion. A dedicated logistics system for furniture was essential, along with the capital to sustain it. Packaging and shipping furniture is fundamentally different from shipping a single sweater. Jeonsan System was meticulously conceived and executed to translate the explosive success of independent designer brands from other fields to the once-barren terrain of furniture design.
System Furniture and Jeonsan System
In Korea, two names defined the industry: Hanssem in kitchens, Fursys in office furniture. Both emerged from a shared belief in “improving residential and office environments.” They took furniture that once existed as isolated objects and reorganized it into a series of systems. From there came sequences and plans where furniture and space were designed together. This shift marked the birth of system furniture. It was a pivotal moment in Korean design history and a foundation for the modern lifestyle we now take for granted. Before the idea of “branding” was fully articulated, Hanssem and Fursys demonstrated that furniture could function as a brand, and that a brand could signal trust and quality. A brand requires a persona. It wears a meticulously constructed mask and performs a carefully calibrated identity. A brand is never a single designer. That distinction is precisely why Jeonsan System must be recognized as the vanguard of a new generation. Jeonsan System begins with one designer, Jeonsan. He is a designer without formal institutional training, a worker who developed a thinking hand on construction sites and a young individual intent on building his own independent foundation. That layered yet cohesive identity is fully embedded in Jeonsan System. Jeonsan designs, assembles, finishes, inspects, packages, loads and delivers. He sends text messages to customers. He speaks and presents for the object and the brand. From the moment a piece leaves the warehouse in Paju to the moment it arrives at a customer’s door, there is no retreat, no hesitation. Jeonsan has built a door-to-door furniture system. At every stage, the self of a single designer Jeonsan intervenes. Consumers purchase “Jeonsan” from Jeonsan System, much like how we consume fashion brands. Jeonsan has defined and tested what gestures are possible for his generation today. It was only after moving into a newly built apartment that he noticed something peculiar. In Korean apartment complexes, kitchens, wardrobes and storage units are built in as standard, but bookshelves are not. Jeonsan System’s Color Shelves emerged from this omission. Using Color Shelves as a point of departure, Jeonsan System now turns its attention toward our living environments. These environments still hold room for rational and beautiful revision. Jeonsan discovered hope amidst the labor of construction sites, put into practice what he encountered in educational settings and physically pushed forward what is often abandoned in design work.
World of Assembly
The origins of the contemporary Jeonsan System can be traced back to Jeonsan’s period at PaTI. His graduation piece, the Dishwashing Cart, most clearly captures his characteristics. Designed as hardware for urban outdoor activities such as festivals and night markets, which were rapidly increasing at that time, the cart was used for various events. The structure integrated a dining table for eating and conversation, a cooking counter equipped with a stove and sink and racks for storing dishes. Each unit could be combined or separated depending on spatial conditions and programmatic needs. Water tanks and gas cylinders were embedded into the system. This allowed the entire setup to be assembled, installed and dismantled on site. Packed compactly onto a cart, it was designed for effortless transport and storage. His dishwashing cart invited people in and encouraged diverse activities. For him, furniture is an active call to participate. People gather around it and temporarily form a community. Having taught himself how to perceive, feel and understand objects and spaces, he does not approach form as something organic or fixed, but disassembles, deconstructs, assembles and reconstructs objects into three-dimensional systems. His dishwashing cart, like all furniture made by Jeonsan System, is fundamentally about assembly. Assembly means the ability to visualize an object’s planar figure and its sequential diagram. Like Lego, where infinite forms emerge from blocks and instructions, he reconfigures the complex mechanisms of the world through substitution and recomposition in his own way. In this sense, his potential extends beyond individual objects, even toward the design of worlds. This is because assembly is an act of ordering and structuring. Italian designer and design activist Enzo Mari emphasized the value and importance of “the process of making” and “the people who make objects,” famously stating, “Creativity is discovered through action. Intelligence is born from the hands.” As a designer, maker, company founder and brand operator, Jeonsan builds systems that protect the value of both “process and people.” The world he assembles is therefore durable, practical and thoughtful. Jeonsan’s name in Chinese characters is 全山, meaning “entire mountain.” He plants trees and paints mountains, knowing that the pursuit of abstract beauty begins with planting trees.
Curated and written by Nari LIM, CEO of Walkie-Talkie Gallery
