A Craft That Outlives the Art
Baecheop (배첩, 褙貼)
That a painting made in the Joseon era could survive hundreds of years and reach us today is, in truth, close to a miracle. Paper is fragile against moisture, silk surrenders to time, and insects and mold are relentless. And yet, a single hanging scroll crosses centuries and arrives intact.
The secret lies in a craft called baecheop (褙貼) — literally meaning "to dress the back." By layering paper or silk behind a work of art, a baecheop practitioner protects it and gives it form: a hanging scroll, a folding screen, a bound album. Preservation is the purpose, but the result is always a work of art in its own right.
Scroll, Screen, Album — Each Form, Its Own Purpose
Jokja (簇子)
A hanging scroll that fixes a work between two wooden rods so it can be suspended vertically — and rolled away for storage when not in use. Beloved for centuries for its practicality.
Source: 국가유산포털
Byeongpung (屛風)
A folding screen that joins multiple panels side by side. Placed at ceremonies — weddings, milestone birthdays — it commands a room and defines space.
Source: 역사문화유산
Seocheop (書帖)
A bound album that gathers works into something held in the hands and turned page by page — a quieter, more intimate way of seeing. Long favored as a gift.
Source: 국가유산진흥원
A Philosophy Hidden in Paste
The most essential material in baecheop is surprisingly humble — paste. But this is no ordinary paste. Wheat flour is submerged in water and left to soak for a long time, slowly drawing out the proteins. It is precisely that removal of protein that matters: without it, microorganisms have nothing to feed on, and mold and bacteria cannot take hold. The result is a paste that protects without harming — one that can hold a work together for centuries without leaving a trace of damage behind.
But what makes this paste truly remarkable is what happens when restoration is needed. When a work has aged and the backing paper has weakened with time, a careful application of moisture is enough to release it entirely. The bond that held for a hundred years simply lets go. New paper is laid in its place, and the life of the work is extended once more.
Not sealing, not fixing — but making it possible to open again and begin anew. That is the philosophy of baecheop.
The Person Continuing Baecheop, Je Da-eun
In Gyeongju, we met someone quietly doing exactly that work. Je Da-eun runs BoochiBoochi (부치부치) 📍 Location, a baecheop studio she opened after coming to the craft through unexpected means — researching it for a graduate thesis, she found almost nothing written down. No books, no footage, no records worth speaking of. So she began learning by doing, and as she learned more, she fell deeper into the charm of baecheop.
"With design, there was always the pressure of having to create something from nothing. Baecheop was different. There's a defined process, and progress comes in exactly the measure of time you put in."
As a designer before coming to baecheop, she had always been interested in book design. But as she began studying old books, she found that the things she had always loved were starting to connect in unexpected ways. Today she brings that sensibility into her practice — running bookbinding workshops, making postcards and goods — finding the places where a traditional craft can sit naturally inside everyday contemporary life.
She showed us the paste-making process — an essential and critically important step in baecheop. Je Da-eun says that making the paste well is one of the most demanding parts of the entire process, a craft that cannot be rushed. Because it is where so much of the effort and sincerity of the work resides, she wanted to show us this exact process.
Process 1
Process 2
Process 3
Process 4
The Four Steps of Making Paste
The Hands at Work
Unlearning the Familiar
She pulled out old books and reference materials she had collected while studying — and used them to show us something. How deeply our sense of what is normal has been shaped by Western ways of doing things.
When we asked what she wanted to make next, she said she wanted to create things that felt distinctly Korean. The quieter aesthetic — round, braided dahoekeun cords, scroll formats with dignity that don't rely on gold borders — that sensibility, she wants to recover and work with.
Traditional crafts were once part of everyday life, not reserved for special occasions, not kept behind glass. What she hopes for is to bring that back: for Korea's craft traditions to find their way into daily life again, to breathe there. Baecheop has always been about giving things life. And just as it has kept art alive across centuries, we hope baecheop itself lives on — staying with us, in more hands, for a long time to come.