At Insa Historic Sites Museum, heritage is preserved through destruction

By Jon Dunbar

• Published Sep 27, 2026 5:21 AM KST

Pre-Gutenberg movable metal type on display

Some of the world's oldest extant movable metal type is on display at a new museum in central Seoul, and entry is free of charge for anyone who wants to see it. However, Insa Historic Sites Museum comes across as surprisingly modest in how it displays these remarkable pieces of typographic history.

The museum's collection includes 441 examples of movable metal type, selected from approximately 1,700 replicas of the originals found at the site. This includes "gabinja," originally cast in 1434, predating Johannes Gutenberg's own movable metal type by almost two decades. There are also replicas of "eulyuja" type, cast originally in 1465, representing the oldest known surviving metal types bearing examples of Hangeul, or Korean characters.

Hundreds of the little metal pieces were unearthed during a 2020-21 archaeological survey and subsequent excavation. Such surveys are a mandatory part of the redevelopment process, which wiped out the southeastern corner of downtown Seoul's historic Insa-dong neighborhood to make way for G1 Seoul, a new office building that houses the museum in its basement level.

Archaeologists recovered the metal type collections in an ancient ceramic jar, which also contained timekeeping instruments and other artifacts. Most striking of these is the "Ilseongjeongsiui" astronomical clock, a device that served as a sundial in daytime and focused on the North Star at night.

Other notable artifacts on display at the expansive basement museum include a water clock, a temple bell cast in 1535 and military firearms called "chongtong" built in the 1580s.

"Most were broken or cut, suggesting that they had been collected as scrap for recycling into new objects," a sign located explains.

One dynasty's trash

According to the museum, this area housed shops dealing with scrap metal in the 16th century, which is the era the museum focuses on, shortly before Japanese invasions of the 1592-98 Imjin War, during the 1392-1910 Joseon Dynasty. Joe McPherson at The Dark Side of Seoul argues that the museum depicts an era of Seoul that was "at the edge of catastrophe" — something the museum never clearly explains.

A stream used to run through the area, located near what is now the Jongno 2ga intersection, spanned by Cheolmylgyo — literally, "metalware bridge." This reflects a local character that contrasts oddly with Insa-dong's newer reputation as a cultural and artistic district that attracts droves of tourists.

The artifacts on display in the museum had been discarded, forgotten and ultimately buried. One dynasty's trash is another's treasure, but exactly how that trash ended up in a 21st-century museum is interesting in itself.

Unlike today, when construction involves removing the earth and building deep foundations, during the Joseon era people simply built atop the ruins of what came before. This led to the accumulation of densely packed layers of debris, starting from the 1390s when the capital was established in what is now Seoul, and lasting until the modern era. The earth here is formed by deposits from human activity, different from the natural sediment located deeper underground. According to the museum, the manmade layers measured approximately 4.5 meters in depth at this site.

"In the Jongno area, where archaeological remains from multiple periods are layered, the museum aspires to set a new benchmark for preserving the buried heritage that continues to surface across central Seoul," a sign by Seoul Museum of History, operator of the facility, proclaims.

It's wild to imagine what other potential discoveries remain buried in the ground we walk over every day in downtown Seoul — and wilder to think that redevelopment is the key to bringing buried heritage to the surface. For decades, similar relics were dug up during construction work, but nobody saved them.

'Gongpyeong Rule'

Over the last couple decades, awareness has grown in the government of the incredible opportunity to survey the heritage that's hidden under the surface. As city blocks are destroyed to make way for new buildings, museums are created to memorialize what came before.

The museum introduces the "Gongpyeong Rule," which pushes for preservation of archaeological remains uncovered in the process of redevelopment. This is named after nearby Gongpyeong-dong, where Gongpyeong Historic Sites Museum opened in 2018 in the basement of Centropolis.

"Under this system," a museum sign explains, "developers who fully preserve uncovered buried heritage in situ are granted floor area ratio incentives."

That is the main motivation for opening museums like this — not a love of history or a desire to educate the public, but simply as an exchange for loosened height restrictions. In this case, the builders received permission to build eight floors taller than they would have otherwise been allowed, which may be why many of these new museum spaces seem a little underwhelming.

The museum space is expansive and a lot of money went into its creation, but it still feels liminal, incomplete. Perhaps the feeling stems from the fact that museum is new and features may still be in development. There is ample space for experimentation in archiving, displaying and educating people about this heritage. In particular, I hope more use is made of virtual reality and media art — things that don't need a lot of floor space.

The museum is enlightening to wander through, but I question if it is really a model of sustainable development. Is this much floor space truly needed to house these remains? The artifacts like the movable metal type and the timekeeping devices take up considerably less floor space than the foundation stones, which mark the location of houses that nobody remembers.

The museum covers 4,810 square meters, close to the building's total footprint. That's a lot of floor space that could have been used for something else. Real, living people were displaced when the building went up, so I hope it will not be squandered.

Preservation in destruction

The museum presents a remarkable peek under the layers of Seoul's urban history. However, in the hurry to preserve ancient heritage, the area's modern life had to be disrupted and residents displaced. This is the paradox that sites like the Insa Historic Sites Museum represent: preservation in destruction.

Until recently, this site was home to a modest but lively local community situated around Pimatgol — the "alley for avoiding horses" where Seoulites used to gather to dine in a dense network of inexpensive restaurants serving grilled fish, savory pancakes or sauteed kimchi and tofu. While redevelopment was inevitable, the museum makes little mention of what has been lost — I suppose because it's unpleasant to remember. There are a couple of photos on the wall showing what the area was like before the community was cleared out. Most of the people in those pictures are probably still alive, and might be surprised to find themselves exhibited in a "historic sites" museum. Wouldn't it have been nice if the building's design included space to accommodate them?

Behind the new building, visible from the museum entrance, a patch of old Insa-dong still stands among the weeds. Right across a two-lane road, the KOTE cultural complex — or at least what's left of it — offers a stark contrast to its new neighbor, now that the construction fence has been taken down.

Ahn Ju-young, the manager of KOTE, told journalists gathered there on June 20, "They recreated Pimatgol over there, but there's no smell of fish."

Living communities can't be moved into museums, and we can't halt time. But if this museumification process is how Seoul commemorates time's passage, then I'd like to see more people visit Insa Historic Sites Museum.

The museum is open 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. every day except Mondays and designated holidays. Admission is free.

Insa Historic Sites Museum will be visited as part of an excursion by the Royal Asiatic Society (RAS) Korea on Saturday, Oct. 3. Participation costs 25,000 won, or 20,000 won for RAS Korea members. Visit raskb.com for more information.