In this blog post, I’ll compare Seonyudo Park and Cheonggyecheon from historical, sociocultural, aesthetic, and engineering perspectives, examining the significance of these two spaces and my personal experiences there.
For an engineering student already overwhelmed by midterm exam prep—and now facing the added pressure of major exams and assignments—the proposal for an outdoor class initially felt less like a welcome break and more like yet another burden, a schedule that would drain both time and energy. However, on a Wednesday when the autumn colors were in full bloom, Seonyudo Park—where we gathered for an outdoor class held right in the middle of midterm exam week—offered a joy that was completely different from what I had expected.
The purpose of the design class was to understand the practical meaning of the word “design”—which is commonly used today—and to grasp the essence of design as it is applied in daily life. Seonyudo Park, chosen as the outdoor class location to explore what true design for humans entails, was the perfect setting to experience firsthand the authenticity of design that the professor had discussed.
As I explored Seonyudo Park, Cheonggyecheon—which was developed around the same time but gives a completely different impression—naturally came to mind. After the field trip, I found myself thinking deeply about these two spaces, and I compared Seonyudo Park and Cheonggyecheon from historical, sociocultural, aesthetic, and engineering perspectives. This essay records those comparisons along with my personal reflections.
The park as it stands today is insufficient for understanding Seonyudo’s original form. This place, which once boasted such breathtaking scenery that it appeared in the true-view landscape paintings of Gyeomjae during the Joseon Dynasty, once featured a peak called “Seonyu Peak,” but traces of it can no longer be found. During the Japanese colonial period, as part of the Han River flood control project and the construction of the Yeouido Airfield, rocks from Seonyu Peak were quarried for use in building embankments, causing its original form to gradually disappear.
Later, during the construction of the Yanghwa Bridge, the peak disappeared completely, and Seonyu-bong ceased to be a peak, becoming simply an island—Seonyudo. Given this history, today’s Seonyudo can be described as a space that has been significantly transformed by development during the Japanese colonial period. Later, in 1978, the Seonyu Water Treatment Plant was built to supply approximately 400,000 metric tons of tap water daily to the Yeongdeungpo area; it served as one of Seoul’s water supply facilities until operations ceased in 2000.
Today’s Seonyudo Park has been reborn as an ecological park while preserving as much of the former Seonyu Water Treatment Plant site as possible. Through the traces of the treatment plant remaining throughout the park, we can recall not only the period when the plant was in operation but also, on a broader historical scale, the destruction of Seonyu Peak during the Japanese colonial period. I believe Seonyudo Park is a space that naturally bridges the past and present without a break in time, encapsulating the history of Seonyudo.
Cheonggyecheon also holds a different significance when viewed from a historical perspective. Originally a natural stream flowing through the heart of Seoul since the Joseon Dynasty, it was subject to frequent flooding, leading to ongoing flood control projects. During the Japanese colonial period, parts of the stream were covered over as part of urban redevelopment and utilized primarily for drainage. Later, during the industrialization process, the covered sections expanded as roads and elevated highways were constructed, causing the stream’s original form to disappear to a significant extent.
Although the current Cheonggyecheon was created through a restoration project that began in 2003, it is difficult to view today’s Cheonggyecheon as a space that has fully restored the appearance of the natural stream of the past. Rather, it gives a stronger impression of being a space that has been newly created as part of a modern urban landscape. While it is difficult to fully discern the original form of Cheonggye, which dates back to the Joseon Dynasty, the fact that it has been reconfigured as a new waterfront space in the heart of 21st-century Seoul means that its character as a modern reinterpretation stands out more prominently than its historical continuity.
From a cultural perspective, a direct comparison between the two spaces is difficult because their original purposes differ. Cheonggyecheon serves as an iconic urban space and public square located in the heart of the city, frequently used by citizens for cultural events, strolls, and social gatherings. In contrast, Seonyudo Park has a clear purpose as an ecological park, and visitors come there expecting relaxation in nature and ecological experiences.
There are also differences in terms of social impact. Seonyudo Park breathed new life into a space once used for industrial facilities, providing citizens with a place for relaxation and ecological learning. In contrast, the Cheonggyecheon restoration project, while yielding positive results in improving the urban environment, also sparked various social debates, such as changes in the surrounding commercial districts and the relocation of existing merchants. I believe that the fact it raised questions about who urban regeneration is truly for is also one of the significant implications of the Cheonggyecheon restoration.
Aesthetically, the two spaces also show distinct differences. It is difficult to directly recall Cheonggyecheon’s past appearance, to the point where the term “restoration” feels somewhat out of place. Artificial waterfalls and waterways, maintenance water supplied from the Han River, standardized stone structures and landscaping, and various lighting installations all contribute to the image of a modern urban stream. While these elements have succeeded in creating a pleasant urban environment, they leave something to be desired when it comes to experiencing the unique character and traces of time inherent in a natural stream.
In contrast, Seonyudo Park possesses a distinct identity. Preserving the traces of the former Seonyu Water Treatment Plant, this park makes no attempt to hide its past. The treatment plant’s large pumps are repurposed as art installations within a gallery, and remnants of industrial facilities—such as concrete structures, rebar, and storage tanks—have been left intact, allowing visitors to naturally reflect on the past.
A prime example is the “Garden of Green Pillars.” The surface of the tennis court that once sat atop the storage tanks was removed, and ivy was planted on the remaining concrete pillars to create a new landscaped space; some pillars were preserved in their original state to showcase the passage of time. Industrial materials such as concrete and steel pipes harmonize with natural elements like moss, ivy, aquatic plants, and bamboo without feeling out of place. Although Seonyudo Park is a newly created space, it displays a beauty that blends naturally with its surroundings, as if it had been there for a long time.
From an engineering perspective, the two spaces also show significant differences. Cheonggyecheon has some shortcomings in terms of accessibility and user convenience. Since the waterway is constructed below ground level and many sections feature relatively steep slopes on both sides, it can be inconvenient to enter and exit, and visibility is sometimes limited. I can’t help but think that if more spacious areas and gentler slopes had been incorporated, the space would have been even more outstanding in terms of accessibility and scenic appreciation. Of course, we must also consider the practical constraints of carrying out the restoration project within the limited space of the city center.
In some sections, railings have been installed for safety; while these help ensure visitor safety, they do have a certain impact on the space’s sense of openness and aesthetic integrity. Furthermore, since the pedestrian routes are relatively linear, there are sections where the walking experience feels somewhat monotonous. It is also regrettable that the number of sights and interactive elements decreases the farther one moves away from Cheonggye Plaza. I believe the space would have been even richer if the distinct histories and characteristics of each area had been reflected more actively.
In contrast, at Seonyudo Park, the designer’s meticulous attention to the space is evident throughout. By breaking away from the stereotype that “a park is a flat space” and designing the ground level lower in certain areas, the park effectively reduces traffic noise from Yanghwa Bridge, creating spaces for quiet contemplation as well as secluded areas like the bamboo grove. Furthermore, the aquatic plant garden—which utilizes the old water treatment plant’s reservoir—clearly showcases the park’s identity while meeting visitors’ expectations.
The three-dimensional topography lends each space its own distinct character, allowing visitors to experience not only horizontal movement but also ascending and descending paths as they walk through the park. Furthermore, Seonyu Bridge—installed to accommodate the island’s geographical characteristics—enables two-way access, thereby enhancing accessibility and user convenience. Thanks to this meticulous spatial design, Seonyudo Park has been realized as a single open space where each zone possesses its own unique charm.
Seonyudo Park is by no means a flashy or visually overwhelming space. Yet, from the moment you first set foot there, it possesses a power that naturally draws you in. Having stood its ground for a long time while preserving the traces of the past, this space exudes a simple yet generous atmosphere and gives the impression of being a place open to everyone. While Seoul is home to a variety of parks and urban spaces, I believe Seonyudo Park is one of the most special places where the past and present coexist most naturally.
Throughout Seonyudo Park, various elements remain that make use of the traces of the former Seonyu Water Treatment Plant. From landscaping that actively incorporates existing concrete structures—such as the Garden of Time and the Garden of Green Pillars—to directional signs that highlight the texture of rusted metal, restrooms converted from former water treatment facilities, a children’s playground built from discarded pipes, and the displayed stormwater discharge valve, these elements naturally remind visitors of the role this space once played. These elements hold great significance not merely because they preserve old facilities, but because they have been reinterpreted as a new space where industrial heritage, ecology, and design harmonize. I believe this approach—connecting the past to the present without erasing it—is Seonyudo Park’s greatest charm and a value that remains unchanged even as time passes.
