Please tell me your name and age.

Yes, my name is Kevin Kwak. [I was born in] 1948, so I am 76 years old.

Where is your hometown?

I was born in Namdo, Jeollabuk-do. When I was in elementary school, my family moved to Seoul, and I grew up there. I started working in a furniture repair and manufacturing factory when I was 15, and I have been working in this field ever since.

You must have been able to make furniture like this since you were young. Did you have a dream or a goal?

Oh, my dream was to study a lot and become a more successful person, but I couldn't afford it. My father's parents said that if I learned crafting skills, I wouldn't starve to death, so I paid a bag of rice to get a job. When I entered, there was no concept of salary, so I just went and volunteered for free. I took my lunch box, took the bus, went to work, and all that. 

Please tell me more about your family. How many people are in your family? What were your parents' jobs?

There were nine kids in my family: five girls and four boys. Because we had such a large family, it was hard to get enough food, as we weren’t well-off back then. So, each of us took on work — either at a factory or through part-time jobs — to help earn money. We gave all of it to our parents, who saved it to support us. By the time I was born, my parents were no longer able to work much due to their age.

Can you share a story about how your business started and why you chose Western Avenue? 

To understand this, you have to go back to 1992. At that time, I was working for an American company after having immigrated to the U.S. But then the riots started. I was working 24 hours a day, over three shifts. At around 10 p.m., the company told us we had to evacuate. They gathered all of us, and we left. Some of the factory buildings were even on fire. We had to line up to make sure no one got hurt.

Soon after, the company shut down, and most of the workers moved to Mexico in search of better opportunities. I declined their offer because I had immigrated to live in America, not Mexico. I wanted to give it one more try. With my severance pay and unemployment benefits, I managed to survive for about six months. 

I had begun mastering this craft when I was fifteen and thought I could start something on my own. I went up and down Western looking for anything worthwhile. Western Avenue was badly damaged after the riots, and lots of stores were closed. Store owners welcomed anyone who offered to help work. Eventually, in 1994, I acquired my own store and began working for myself. 

As a location, how has Western Avenue impacted your business over the past 20 years?

When I first started, there were several shops that sold and repaired antique furniture. The Americans told me that this road had been known as a “furniture alley" since the 1920s, and people interested in furniture would come from faraway places like San Diego or Santa Barbara. However, when I opened my store, most customers still went to the American-owned shops because I was Asian, and all the other stores were run by Americans. For more than six months, my shop was almost empty. Only one or two people would stop by and show interest in my work.

The encouraging part was that those few customers complimented my craftsmanship, and word began to spread. Gradually, more people became interested, and business improved for a while. But then, the riots started, followed by the pandemic. We were all forced to close our stores. Even after we reopened, customers slowly began to disappear.

That’s when John, one of the Americans I had helped, suggested something. He had previously worked at a broadcasting station and told me not to sit idle during such difficult times. He recommended that I showcase my work on Yelp. “If you post your work on Yelp, people will see it, and it will bring you a lot of business,” he said. I told him I didn’t know English and didn’t know how to set it up. He kindly offered to create the page for me, asking for a 10% fee from the profits. He set up my Yelp page and uploaded all of my work. Since then, 90% of my foreign customers have come from Yelp, and my business has been thriving with many backlogged orders. 

What's the biggest change you've seen in the Western Avenue and Koreatown communities since you started your business?

Before the riots, I had customers, but after the riots, foreign customers stopped coming altogether. It felt almost like a recession. Even now, many businesses are closing because of the recent riots.

For example, about five years ago, I repaired a table for a customer from Beverly Hills. When it was finished, I was so happy that I called her right away to let her know it was ready for pickup. But she told me to just keep the table; she didn’t want it anymore. She sounded like an older white woman. I asked her why, and at first, I thought it might be a cultural misunderstanding. After a pause, she told me it was too dangerous to come to Koreatown, that she could get killed. That’s when I realized that the April 29th riots had been broadcast all over the world, showing the violence and chaos, including the looting and fighting in the markets. Everyone had seen it.

Even now, hardly any white people come out here—only other foreigners, like Thai or Mexican people. I still get some customers from Yelp who love my work and leave great reviews, so that’s been a bright spot. But overall, Western Avenue is very down and stagnant now. To revitalize it, someone must promote the area and show people it’s safe again. I feel that once white people realize it’s safe here, more people will start coming back. That’s been my experience, anyway.

Yes, I hope so, too. Can you explain your relationship with other businesses and communities on Western Avenue?

There isn't much of a relationship since I'm independent and don't interact with others much. However, there were occasions when business owners from different fields would gather and talk. Back in 2000, when this area was a furniture alley, there were more than 15 antique shops. Almost all of the antique shop owners would come together to discuss business. Over time, though, people stopped showing up, and the meetings eventually ended. I learned that many shops began closing and leaving the area — one by one. Now, I'm the only one left, which is why things are more difficult for me right now. I'm just doing what I can; I'm already 76 years old. If things don't work out in the end, I’ll retire. I don't see much hope left.

What are the positive aspects of working on Western Avenue? What were the most joyful moments, and what were the challenges?

As you can see in these photos, when white customers see the repaired furniture, they often say, "Oh, my God!" or "I can't believe it!" Koreans just take it as it is, but foreigners are much more moved. They thank me dozens of times, and that gives me a sense of reward and pride in my work. Lately, I've been getting reviews from people saying that my work has been incredibly helpful in their daily lives.

Recently, I brought some Korean furniture from San Francisco to repair, and then I fixed another piece from Arizona. During this time, I attracted more people interested in furniture. They began to see me as a Korean traditional furniture expert and wanted to learn more about my work. I want to keep this momentum going, but my body isn’t as strong as it used to be. I used to repair about ten pieces a day, but now I can only manage one or two. It's not very profitable at this rate. If I increase repair costs to stay afloat, people might stop coming. It’s getting more difficult. I feel like it would help if the streets became more active. 

What role does Kwak's Furniture play in the community, and how does it support customers? 

I take discarded, damaged items that would otherwise be thrown away and restore them so they can be used again. It's not about letting things go to waste; it's about bringing them back to life, and that’s what makes it meaningful. The second thing is that when these items age, someone has to continue making and maintaining them. For example, when people build roads, everyone celebrates the construction, and over time, they become cultural assets. But they require ongoing repairs to remain functional.

The same applies to products. If a factory produces 100 items, many end up being discarded with the passing of time, and only one or two might last. After many years — 100 or 200 years — it becomes a cultural asset, something valuable. That’s what makes my work valuable, and I take great pride in that. I see this place as a small museum on Western Avenue. People come from other states to visit this old area. If the street becomes more active, I’d like to keep my work going. Even if it’s not me, I hope others can maintain it and keep things going. If this street, Western Avenue, is known as the place where Mr. Kwak’s small Korean-owned museum exists, I would be at peace. 

What do you want people to know about your business, Kwak's Furniture, or even about you?

Rather than focusing on me, Kwak's Furniture is a place where you can explore antiques once used by Koreans, Americans, and even people from England, Italy, and France. It’s a collection of timeless pieces, all preserved in excellent condition. For example, if you have something passed down from your father, mother, or grandparents — something you might consider throwing away after all these years — bring it here instead. This is a place where it can be completely restored and given new life. I want everyone to know that this is where I can repair, reproduce, and restore any furniture you need. Everyone in the U.S. should know that we are here to help.

What will happen to you and your business in 10 years?

Oh, in 10 years, I definitely can't do this anymore, to be honest. I'm 76 now and can only continue for two or three more years at best. I would appreciate it if someone with skills like mine could take over and keep the business going. But if no one can do that, I'll have no choice but to close up shop and retire. It makes me a little sad to think about that. Right now, it's what worries me the most, and I really don’t want it to happen. Some people in their 20s and 30s come by and offer to work for free, but the labor laws in the U.S. are complicated. It’s not like Korea. I also don’t want them to work in this small, cramped space, so I have to turn them down. 

I did have three students once, but it didn’t work out. The truth is it takes at least 10 years to master this craft. First, you have to learn how to work with wood. Then, you need to know how to cut and shape it into furniture. Once the furniture is made, you have to decorate it. And those decorations? You have to make those yourself because there’s no one else here to do them. While factories can produce tens of thousands of items in bulk, making even one or two unique pieces requires hands-on work right here. So I have to make them myself. 

You have to know how to cut wood in many different ways. You need to learn all of that. And if you’re making sculptures, you have to understand the nature of the wood and how to handle the tools. To do all that, you need to be skilled in painting and sanding as well. When I was a child in Insa-dong, Korea, I was doing all of this myself — bringing the wood, painting it, decorating it, sculpting it, and completing the furniture. But now most of the technicians are gone. That’s why it can’t be a one-man operation; it takes around seven people to run this kind of business. However, it's hard to pay the salaries of seven people.

Can you share one of your most memorable moments while working here?

It's similar to what I mentioned earlier. When a customer brings something they thought was trash — something they were about to throw away — and leaves it with me, it’s a powerful moment. After I fix it, I send them a picture, and they express so much gratitude. Then, when they come to pick it up, I see their faces light up with delight or see how they jump up and down with joy. That look of joy really touches me, and I know that even when I'm gone, I’ll probably remember those expressions. The joyful feelings, the joyful actions. It’s moments like that that make everything I do worth it and why I continue to do this work.