The fifth Seoul Biennale of Architecture and Urbanism, themed “Radically More Human” and directed by Thomas Heatherwick, recently came to a close. Despite its promise, the Biennale felt less radical and more superficial. The director had stated that he wished to ask what kind of city we want to live in and to “empower everyone to demand more humane buildings.” Yet the statement blurred who “everyone” actually was, wavering between local and global, between civic festival and architectural event. Its main thematic exhibition at Songhyun Green Plaza added further disorientation, gesturing toward openness while remaining oddly detached.

At the center of the plaza stood the “Humanise Wall,” a patchwork of slogans forming a gigantic, twisted barrier that announced itself from afar yet blocked any sense of real engagement, contradicting its communal rhetoric. Behind it, a series of smaller versions, “Walls of Public Life” continued the confusion. Twenty-four architects, a fashion designer, and even a chef, each produced a 2,4 × 4,8m wall, emphasizing decorative façades as emotional triggers. The format inevitably recalled Paolo Portoghesi’s “Strada Novissima” at the 1980 Venice Architecture Biennale “The Presence of the Past,” a similarity so striking no major review bothered to engage with it beyond a passing mention. However, unlike that collective spatial experiment of postmodern plurality, the isolated walls in Seoul created no dialogue, sequence, or shared architectural experience. The Biennale has already been criticized widely in the nation and even satirized online evolving into #kwallchallenge. While its unexpected afterlife is intriguing, it raises the question of whether all these walls, both physical and virtual—whether by Heatherwick’s team or by young rebels on Instagram—can prompt any “constructive,” sustained architectural discourse rather than remain humorous surfaces. Perhaps it is time to reconsider what role a Biennale should serve beyond the spectacle we all too easily fall into repeating.

hl.