The Grain Transport System (Jounje) of Goryeo – Ancient Logistics

Look up at a traditional Korean building, and you'll see a crown of curved tiles gently cascading across the roofline—this is Giwa (기와), the soul of Korean rooftops. More than functional, Giwa is poetic. It tells a story of earth and fire, of harmony with nature, and of status, spirituality, and aesthetics. In this post, we explore the history, symbolism, and enduring appeal of Korea’s traditional roof tiles, and how they transform architecture into visual philosophy.
Giwa refers to fired clay tiles used to cover the roofs of hanok and palaces. Traditionally arranged in alternating concave and convex shapes—called Ogiwa (오지와) and Anjiwa (암지와)—these tiles lock together to shed rain, resist wind, and breathe with the building beneath.
The structure underneath the tiles, known as cheoma (eaves), curves upward like a smile or a crane in flight. This curve isn’t just beautiful—it reflects philosophical principles about openness, protection, and elevation.
Giwa-making dates back to the Three Kingdoms period, with Goryeo and Joseon dynasties refining the process. Each tile is handmade from clay, molded, dried, and fired in kilns. Artisans select clay based on mineral content and mold curvature to maintain uniformity. The result is both elegant and enduring—many ancient rooftops still survive today.
In large complexes like Gyeongbokgung or Bulguksa Temple, roofs were covered in black-glazed Giwa reserved for royalty and sacred structures, while commoners used unglazed versions with earthy hues.
In Korean culture, the roof is not just the "top" of a building—it is its spiritual ceiling. Giwa tiles symbolize:
Some eaves feature japsang (잡상)—small figurines like dragons, lions, and monkeys, each with symbolic meaning, often warding off evil or invoking good fortune.
When rain falls on a Giwa roof, it creates a soothing rhythm—a soundscape many Koreans associate with peace and home. The texture of the tiles, slightly rough and porous, absorbs and releases heat slowly, helping regulate interior temperatures.
Sunlight glides across the curved surfaces, creating dynamic shadows and highlights. The roof becomes alive with time, its colors deepening with age, its imperfections adding character.
In today’s Korea, Giwa is being reimagined:
Architects blend Giwa with concrete and glass, symbolizing Korea’s fusion of tradition and innovation.
Programs like “Hanok Stay” and cultural heritage workshops teach visitors how Giwa tiles are made and maintained. In Seoul’s Bukchon and Jeonju Hanok Village, residents restore rooftops using centuries-old techniques, preserving not only the architecture but the philosophy it embodies.
Government initiatives also support artisans, kilns, and apprentices to ensure that the art of Giwa continues to be passed down.
Content creators in travel, architecture, or culture can target keywords such as “Giwa roof design,” “Korean roof architecture,” “hanok roof tiles,” or “traditional Korean building materials.”
Combine blog posts with visual content like roof detail photography, time-lapse rain videos, or interviews with tile artisans. These create strong engagement while telling a deeper cultural story.
Giwa is more than a roof—it is a crown, a shield, a song. It shelters with elegance, speaks through silence, and watches over those who live beneath it. In every curve, there is a whisper of wisdom. In every shadow, a piece of history.
As Korea moves forward, the rooftops remind us to look upward—not just for shelter, but for meaning, beauty, and belonging.
Coming up next: From Stone to Spirit—A journey through Korea’s Dolmen tombs and the mysteries of ancient beliefs.