We take thousands of photos on our phones without thinking twice. Snap, scroll, forget, repeat. But here’s a wild thought: what if a camera literally forced you to slow down? That’s exactly what designer Seulgi Kim is exploring with RAW, a pinhole camera concept that’s part time machine, part meditation device, and entirely about reclaiming something we’ve lost in the digital age.
The name RAW works on two levels. First, it means “unrefined,” which perfectly captures the camera’s back-to-basics philosophy. Second, it references RAW image files in photography, those unprocessed originals that contain all the data before any digital manipulation happens. It’s a clever double meaning that sets up everything this concept is about: stripping away the excess to get back to what photography actually is.
Designer: Seulgi Kim
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Normally we can shoot a hundred photos in seconds with our phones but RAW does something almost rebellious. It uses a pinhole aperture instead of a lens, which means each exposure takes several seconds or even minutes to complete. You can’t rapid-fire shots. You can’t casually capture every moment. Instead, you have to stand there with your subject, waiting, observing, really seeing what’s in front of you. It’s the photographic equivalent of choosing to walk instead of drive, not because you have to, but because you want to notice things along the way.
What makes RAW fascinating beyond its function is how Kim translated traditional Korean architecture into its design language. This isn’t just aesthetic borrowing; it’s a thoughtful connection between two forms of slowness and intentionality. Traditional Korean architecture embodies what Kim calls “the aesthetics of slowness,” where every element reflects careful consideration of space, time, and human presence. Those principles shaped buildings that have stood for centuries, and now they’re informing how we might think about capturing a single photograph.
Look at the curved panel on the camera’s side. It’s directly inspired by the gentle curves of traditional Korean roof tiles, which were designed to protect houses from rain and wind. But here, that curve serves a completely modern purpose: it prevents slipping and creates a comfortable, stable grip. It’s functional heritage design at its best, where historical wisdom solves contemporary problems.
Then there’s the twelve-sided dial on top of the camera, which controls exposure time. In traditional Korean architecture, polygonal structures weren’t decorative flourishes; they provided stability and balance. Kim applies that same geometric logic to the timer dial, creating something that ranges from B (Bulb mode) through various seconds up to 30 minutes. That dodecagonal shape makes it intuitive to read and adjust your exposure settings at a glance. The design literally transforms time into something you can touch and see.
At the camera’s front, an octagonal hood acts as the window for incoming light. It’s not just there to look cool (though it does). The hood directs light rays evenly into the body and minimizes glare, ensuring balanced exposures. Every geometric choice serves both form and function, creating what Kim describes as “harmonious balance” between mechanical precision and traditional aesthetics.
The whole package comes in matte black with subtle mint-green accents on the shutter button and side controls. There’s a minimalist viewfinder on top and a woven camera strap that adds tactile warmth to the technical precision. When you see the camera disassembled in one of the concept photos, all those gears and components laid out like an exploded diagram, it drives home just how much mechanical thought went into something designed to be analog in a digital world.
What’s really striking about RAW is how it challenges our relationship with image-making in 2025. We’ve reached a point where our phones can computationally enhance photos before we even press the shutter. AI can generate entire images from text prompts. Photography has become almost too easy, too fast, too disposable. Kim isn’t saying technology is bad; she’s asking what we lose when everything becomes instant.
The pinhole camera format forces a different kind of presence. When you need minutes to capture a single frame, you can’t be casual about it. You have to choose your subject carefully, consider the light, commit to the moment. That extended exposure time becomes a form of meditation, a way of connecting with what you’re photographing that simply isn’t possible when you’re machine-gunning through dozens of shots. RAW proves that sometimes the most innovative design move is stepping backward. By reaching into centuries-old architectural wisdom and combining it with one of photography’s oldest techniques, Kim has created something that feels genuinely fresh. It’s a camera that doesn’t just take pictures. It changes how you see.
