Resin Encasements Turn Old Chairs Into Sculpture at Seoul's KiNN

Designer Younghyun Lee encases discarded chairs in translucent resin and refuses to hide a single scar. The series, called The Youth, is on view as part of Lee's solo exhibition The Nuance at KiNN in Seoul.

The premise is simple and specific. Old furniture loses our interest long before its materials lose their character, as the project's framing puts it. Rather than erase the evidence of use, Lee gives discarded chairs and aged timber a new visual identity with their earlier lives still visible.

What does the resin actually do?

The intervention is resin applied around the wooden components to create new forms and proportions. In the supplied photographs, cloudy, translucent edges surround the darker timber. Each piece looks suspended inside a larger version of itself. The resin extends beyond the wood, giving uprights broader outlines and horizontal rails gently dipping contours.

Viewing distance changes the reading. From afar, the chair has an almost frosted appearance. Closer inspection reveals irregular wooden surfaces inside, a structure that looks considerably older and less orderly than its pale silhouette suggests.

The hardware stays legible too. Dark fasteners remain visible along the uprights, interrupting the pale resin borders. They give the object a stubborn, workshop quality that keeps the treatment from becoming precious. Covering those details completely, the wood might read as decorative filler. Left exposed, the viewer recognizes pieces of an actual assembly, with connections and wear that weren't invented for a photograph.

A chair you can't sit on

The photographed example has an open seat area. It's not a replacement for the chair at your kitchen table. That absence changes the encounter: the familiar outline invites recognition while the missing sitting surface interrupts the expected use. The work functions better as chair-based sculpture, letting the viewer consider shape and construction without pretending anything about comfort.

These are exhibition works, not a practical repair kit for a wobbly dining chair. Their contribution is narrower: they make overlooked material worth examining again without requiring it to look freshly manufactured.

The title earns its name. Earlier coverage describes The Youth as an exploration of memories carried by old objects, including scratches and faded marks. The wood doesn't become young again; its changed surroundings give viewers a reason to pay attention differently.

Sustainability, carefully framed

Reclaimed wood is part of the story, but the project avoids a sweeping environmental claim. The more convincing achievement is visible: the resin changes the object substantially while the original components remain recognizable. That's a more interesting relationship than treating old wood as anonymous raw material, stripped of everything that made the piece distinct.

In the installation photographs at KiNN, the pale resin picks up the brightness of the room while the timber stays a darker presence within it. The chair looks slightly ghostly, though its frame and visible hardware keep it from dissolving into atmosphere. It still looks like an object somebody assembled. That balance, transformation without erasure, is what distinguishes Lee's approach from conventional furniture restoration.