WRITING_Identity.

Yun Woo Kim
Jul 22, 2017 · 3 min read

Since primary, my mornings were rather repetitive. I would drag myself out of bed in response to the distinct call of my mother. Half asleep, I would try to navigate across the obstacles of the living room to locate my favourite chair that delivered the perfect comfort within its soft, elastic leather. The chair welcomed me into its arms, providing the support I desperately needed to stay awake. However one day, the seat wasn’t there. Instead, my favourite, snug, and fluffy leather chair was replaced by a static wooden chair — it didn’t deliver the comfort I longed for. Vexed, I would have had a temper tantrum: nagging and complaining about the chair. But in the midst of my grumbling, my dad was there, always giving reasons as to why I’m always ungrateful and unappreciative of his designs. To a certain extent, I agreed. My ever so neglectful and unappreciative nature did exist in my heart. But I always thought he was affronted by my harsh opinions, since all the furniture were based on his designs. He worked at a furniture company, designing and mass producing pieces of furniture ranging from office chairs to children friendly stools. But it was the wooden chair I impulsively sat on, which irritated me.

It was after my school day, that I was confronted with the wooden chair again. My dad patiently placed the chair in front of my feet. “Try sit,” he said as he pulled the chair closer towards me. “It looks dumb”, I replied, refusing to sit nor even look at it. Though the legs were illustrated with a grain pattern that I’ve never seen in any of my father’s designs, the chair was too simple and unaesthetic for my liking. He grabbed me by the arm, and forcefully pushed me against the chair. Helplessly, I scrutinized every single aspect of the chair, running my fingers over the varnished legs, and in pure honesty, it was sublime. I didn’t admit the true comfort of the chair — it’s perfect arc allowed my back to rest effortlessly on the rail as well as the soothing finish on the oak was unforeseen. I was overwhelmed with a myriad of feelings: Guilt rushed through my head, while embarrassment engulfed me. I felt the comfort of the chair once again, but as if by magic, it had changed. I now noticed my father’s extraordinary skills, as his ability to depict his skills in wood making and furniture designs through such a simple and minimalistic design exposed me to a new perspective of my father’s occupation.

Since then, I would wake up in the morning, sometimes welcomed by the cold leftovers of my dinner, or the mysterious box that my dad has brought in from his office. Everyday, I was welcomed to a new world of designs, varying from extreme sizes to complementary colours, proving that the strangest objects can become the subject of the most minimalistic and idealistic furniture — true insight can come from the most unexpected places. I found out that having an open mind is not something that will be easily achievable but that experience has taught me that life is more than my own personal opinion. By becoming more acceptive of other’s ideas, whether it be my father’s designs or simply furniture in general, I learned that only then can you go far. It is truly the heated passion and designing expertise of my father which ultimately shaped me into the aesthete that I am today.

Yun Woo Kim

Written by

18 / Korean / Malaysia born and raised

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