Junsu Kim

A Second Life for the Remnant

Coiling Leather Like Nature Grows — Slowly, Strip by Strip

At first glance, Junsu Kim's work is easy to misread. One might mistake them for sophisticated wood-turned vessels with tree grain patterns, or others might see the fine, detailed brushwork of delicate ceramics. Yet, when you look closer, you realise that these structures are composed entirely of leather—specifically, vegetable-tanned leather. Coming from a metalwork background, Kim transforms the cold, heavy industrialism of metal into the warm, organic textures of leather through his hands.

"What I enjoyed the most about metal work was the hammering. Softening a metal plate with fire and then striking it into form," he reflects. "I felt that the way I work with my leather has a similar rhythm to it."

The Remnant and the Cycle

Kim's move into leather wasn't planned. While he was studying metalwork, he had the chance to attend a workshop in Italy on vegetable-tanned leather. "I was already interested in vegetable-tanned leather and had been researching material-forming techniques on my own, so when the opportunity came up, I went to the workshop," he says. What he learned there about how the material is sourced and the philosophy behind it fundamentally changed the direction of his work.

"The term 'vegetable' does not refer to the source of the hide, but to the natural tanning process. Instead of chromium and other harsh chemicals used in modern tanning, this method uses natural tannins from tree bark, fruit, and leaves, so the material stays close to the earth. Every type of leather has its trade-offs, but for me, vegetable-tanned leather has a real advantage: it minimises environmental damage, and it lets me approach the ethical questions around leather more comfortably. It matters to me that I only use hides that are by-products of the meat industry, ensuring nothing is killed for the sake of the art."

That same logic shapes his signature technique: coiling, a labour-intensive method rooted in a deep respect for the environment. In most leatherwork, the irregular edges and offcuts of a hide get thrown away. However, Kim treats them as the actual material of the piece. By cutting these scraps into thin, uniform strips, then stacking and bonding them, he builds volume and form. 

Letting Leather Capture Nature

Kim Junsu finds his creative energy in planting and observing how a landscape moves. Kim’s recent FLOW series follows the movement of a magnolia flower in early spring. By abandoning templates and pre-planned moulds, he allows the leather's own tension and the movement of his hands decide the final silhouettes. His ALBO series takes its cue from the variegated patterns of the Monstera plant, where Kim is drawn to what he calls nature's "fingerprints", the irregularity itself, rather than any kind of symmetry.

At the same time, he wants the material itself, leather, to hold the viewer's attention. In his Sense of Forest series, he narrows the base of each vessel deliberately, pulling the form away from function to highlight the material's own qualities — scent, texture, depth — and let them come forward instead.

"Craft tends to push you toward thinking about functional aspects. Particularly with leather, people see it as less functional than other materials. If you want to make something like tableware out of leather, you have to deal with waterproofing, fire resistance, all of that. I tried lacquering it to compensate. But eventually what I wanted was to bring out the material's own qualities, such as its scent and texture, rather than what it could do. Narrowing the base was a way to get the viewer to engage with it through— smell, touch and sight"

Junsu's work reminds me that art, much like the forest, is a slow, steady, and inevitable process. He believes real craftsmanship comes from sustained, ongoing study of a material, not from arriving at mastery and putting it behind you. That belief seems to come straight from how he watches nature; planting, observing, noticing how growth has its own pace and doesn't take shortcuts. As he put it, the repetitive movement of his hands isn't just production— it's closer to a process of conversing with the material. From metal to leather, his evolution remains unpredictable and inspiring.