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Cover image for The Unofficial Side of Korean
The Unofficial Side of Korean Neighborhood Life in LALATOWN I never wanted to stop drawing. But I also knew I needed to make a living somehow. For a long time I kept asking myself, How can I continue illustrating the worlds I love while building a sustainable creative business? One day, the answer quietly appeared. What if every character I draw could become a Procreate stamp brush? That simple idea changed everything. Now every illustration creates its own little ecosystem. I draw a neighborhood, the people inside become brushes, the brushes inspire new illustrations, and little by little, LALATOWN continues to grow. This illustration is one tiny corner of that world. If you’ve ever spent time in a Korean home, you may notice something funny. There is a perfectly good sofa… …and everyone is sitting on the floor, leaning against it. That’s just how it is. Friends gather for Girls’ Day, face masks on, while ordering tteokbokki, gimbap, so-tteok so-tteok, fried chicken, or whatever everyone is craving that night. Slippers are for indoors. Bathroom slippers are different. Some habits don’t really need explaining—they simply feel like home. You may also notice visitors wearing hanbok. They’ve wandered over from Bukchon, another neighborhood inside LALATOWN. Nothing is separated here. Every story eventually connects with another. Most of the characters you see in this illustration are already available as Procreate stamp brushes. Some are from previous collections, while others are completely new. Then there’s Franky. Franky works in the office upstairs. Why is he wearing glasses? Because Sarang once told him he looked handsome in them. The funny thing is… The glasses don’t even have prescription lenses. He wears them simply because she liked them. That’s Franky. Behind him is his workout tower, and hanging from the ceiling are his favorite crunchy treats. Does he really need to sit so seriously behind his desk? Probably not. But there’s always a chance Sarang might walk by. So naturally, he sits up straight and looks very important. Another place you’ll find is Soonja’s Orchard. There are no street numbers in LALATOWN. Homes are known by their stories. Soonja’s family has cared for orchards for generations, so their house carries that name instead of an address. At night, the neighborhood glows beneath rows of traditional Korean lanterns. And something rather unusual happens. Someone quietly hangs fresh kimchi outside. Someone else leaves so-tteok so-tteok. Another neighbor brings gimbap. Even the flowers don’t always bloom as flowers. Sometimes cabbage blossoms grow. Sometimes radishes appear. Sometimes cupcakes. Sometimes fruit. Sometimes exactly what someone nearby happens to need. That’s simply how LALATOWN works. You might also spot the girl relaxing with a sheet mask. Of course she is. Self-care belongs in every neighborhood. She’s wearing indoor slippers because, well… that’s Korea. People often ask me about the pink sofa. It appears again and again in my illustrations. It was in Café Macchiato. It’s here again. While working on this piece, I finally realized why. My parents had a small pink loveseat. During my father’s battle with Alzheimer’s disease, I spent long periods in Korea helping care for him. One afternoon, my mother wasn’t feeling well. She lay down on that pink sofa while my father quietly pulled up a small chair beside her and gently massaged her hands and arms. I happened to record that moment. I never knew why. As Alzheimer’s slowly took many of his memories, one thing never disappeared. His love for my mother. Months before he passed away, that same sofa sat in their bedroom. I often slept there so I could wake whenever he needed help during the night. It wasn’t particularly comfortable. I remember sore muscles, interrupted sleep, and something I carried quietly inside—guilt. Guilt for being tired. Guilt for wanting good food. Guilt for wishing life could feel normal again while someone I loved was suffering. Looking back now, I think those feelings were simply part of being human. But enough of the sad story. Inside LALATOWN, the pink sofa no longer belongs to illness. It has become something else. A symbol of warmth. A symbol of family. A symbol of ordinary Korean life. A happy place where stories continue. Welcome to one little corner of Korean neighborhood life in LALATOWN. Stay as long as you’d like. If you’d like to build your own neighborhood, you’ll find the Procreate brush collection inspired by this illustration below. Each set also includes matching wallpapers, and soon I’ll be releasing additional wallpaper collections for iPad and desktop from the growing world of LALATOWN Studio. Thank you for visiting. And thank you for listening to the story behind the pink sofa.
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