The Rise, The Fall, The Rebirth, and The Collapse of Ihwa Mural Village
Updated: Jan 19, 2025
Name of Building/s: Ihwa Mural Village (이화벽화마을)
Architect/Designer: N/A
Date: 1950s
Materials: N/A
Location: Ihwa-dong (이화동)
Though Ihwa Mural Village (이화벽화마을) rose in popularity only recently during the late 2000s, it dates back as far as the 1950s. It is one of many Daldongne (달동네) in Seoul, which roughly translates to “moon village”, referring to how residents, who reside on the mountains, are closer to the moon. This categorization perfectly captures the neighborhood’s hilly landscape and winding paths, of which the slopes hide a rich history.
In the aftermath of the Korean War, Ihwa-dong became a refuge for those seeking to rebuild their lives, embodying post-war urbanization with its narrow alleyways and modest homes. However, as the country flourished, Ihwa-dong’s presence began to fade due to Seoul’s rapid modernization. By the early 2000s, most of its younger residents had departed in search of better opportunities. Just like that, the neighborhood seemed to be left behind by its residents, until it too seemed destined to disappear, as it was marked for demolition.
Though it might seem like the neighborhood simply became another victim of the countless historic sites lost to modernization, this is not where the story ends.
In 2006, the Naksan Project was launched, a bold initiative with a mission to breathe new life into Ihwa-dong. Artists throughout Korea were commissioned to transform the deteriorating walls and stairways into canvases for vibrant murals. What had once been a forgotten and neglected space began to attract visitors, and locals who had stayed behind found themselves part of a renewed community. Some of the most famous murals include “Flower Staircase”, “Koi Fish Staircase”, and “Angel Wings”.
But the revival seemed too good to be true and soon unraveled into something far more complicated.
The sudden surge in popularity brought waves of tourists eager to photograph and explore, yet this influx came with consequences as the relationship between visitors and locals became strained. The once peaceful alleyways were now bustling with constant footsteps and noise. Tourists roamed through residential areas, treating the village as an attraction rather than a living community, as homes were mistaken for public spaces, with all privacy being disregarded. The neighborhood's intimate and quiet charm was lost.
Eventually, due to the lack of government involvement, the residents decided to act out on their frustration. Several of the most beloved and iconic murals – including the two famous staircases – were painted over by locals. The murals that had once symbolized the neighborhood's newly found identity now became an invitation for intrusion. For many, it was an act of reclaiming their space – a protest against the commercialization of their home.
In a twist of irony, the very revitalization effort meant to preserve Ihwa-dong’s history through art became the foundation for its fall from grace. What began as a celebration of heritage and community soon became a source of intrusion and frustration. The murals could not exist harmoniously alongside its residents, revealing the fragile line between preservation and commercialization.
I had actually visited this neighborhood alongside a dear friend. Without realizing it, I followed an old guide to walk around, which caused me to become confused as many murals that were indicated on the map were nowhere to be found. This led to me becoming increasingly curious about the hidden significance and story of the village, and now here we are. Despite the erasure, scattered around are the remnants of murals, reminding visitors that Ihwa-dong remains a charming and inviting place, ready to welcome those who explore its streets with respect and care.
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