검색결과 총 3건
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SK케미칼, J2H와 MASH 치료제 공동개발 추진 外
[경제일보] SK케미칼이 제이투에이치바이오텍과 대사이상 지방간염(MASH) 치료제 후보물질 ‘J2H-1702’의 국내외 개발 및 상업화를 위한 전략적 파트너십 의향서(LOI)를 체결했다고 29일 밝혔다. 양사는 앞서 지난 3월 신약 파이프라인 공동개발 MOU를 체결한 데 이어 기술·사업성 실사를 거쳐 J2H-1702의 공동 개발을 본격 추진하기로 했다. J2H-1702는 경구용 11β-HSD1 저해제로, 코르티솔 대사를 조절해 지방 축적과 염증, 섬유화 진행을 억제하는 기전을 갖는다. 제이투에이치바이오텍은 임상 2a를 통해 간지방 감소와 항섬유화 가능성을 시사하는 초기 결과를 확보했다. 양사는 향후 국내외 임상과 개발 전략을 구체화하고 단계별 상업화 계획 수립을 위한 협의를 이어갈 방침이다. 김재선 제이투에이치바이오텍 대표는 “J2H-1702가 SK케미칼과 협력을 통해 글로벌 개발에 속도를 낼 것으로 기대한다”고 강조했다. 박현선 SK케미칼 사업대표는 “MASH는 신약 개발에서 주목받는 분야로, J2H-1702의 과학적 근거와 경쟁력을 확인했다”며 “협력을 통해 신약 파이프라인을 확대해 나가겠다”고 말했다. ◆동아제약, 웰니스 시장 공략…파이테라 론칭 동아제약이 슈퍼푸드 기반 웰니스 브랜드 ‘파이테라(PHYTERA)’를 론칭하고 신제품 4종을 출시했다고 29일 밝혔다. ‘파이테라’는 식물을 의미하는 ‘Phy’와 치유를 뜻하는 ‘Therapy’를 결합한 브랜드로 바쁜 현대인을 위한 간편한 건강 관리 솔루션을 지향한다. 자연 유래 원물을 활용해 슈퍼푸드의 특성을 살리면서도 일상에서 손쉽게 섭취할 수 있도록 제품을 구성했다. 이번에 출시된 제품은 ‘곰보배추삼백초 시럽’, ‘빌베리’, ‘커큐민’, ‘커큐민 망고맛’ 등 4종이다. ‘곰보배추삼백초 시럽’은 국내산 원료를 사용한 고농축 액상 제품으로 인공첨가물을 배제했다. ‘빌베리’는 안토시아닌을 함유한 베리 복합 분말 제품으로 쿨멜팅 공법을 적용해 섭취 편의성을 높였다. ‘커큐민’ 제품군은 리포좀 공법을 적용한 수용성 커큐민을 함유하고 흑후추추출물을 더해 체내 흡수율을 고려했다. 기본형과 망고맛 두 가지로 출시해 선택 폭을 넓혔다. 제품은 동아제약 공식몰 디몰과 네이버 브랜드스토어, 쿠팡 등 온라인 채널에서 판매된다. 동아제약 관계자는 “파이테라는 일상 속에서 간편하게 건강을 관리할 수 있도록 기획된 슈퍼푸드 브랜드”라며 “다양한 건강 고민에 맞춘 제품 라인업을 지속 확대할 계획”이라고 말했다. ◆대웅제약 협력…한양대병원, 스마트병원 가속 한양대학교병원이 대웅제약과 협력해 인공지능(AI) 기반 병상 모니터링 시스템 ‘씽크(thynC)’를 일반 병상 전체에 도입한다고 29일 밝혔다. 이번 도입으로 한양대학교병원은 특수 병상을 제외한 전 병상에서 환자의 생체 신호를 실시간으로 모니터링할 수 있는 스마트병원 체계를 구축하게 됐다. 이에 따라 전국 47개 상급종합병원 중 15곳이 해당 시스템을 도입하게 됐다. 씽크는 웨어러블 센서를 통해 심전도, 심박수, 호흡수, 산소포화도 등 주요 생체 데이터를 수집하고 AI 분석을 통해 이상 징후 발생 시 의료진에게 즉시 알림을 제공하는 시스템이다. 수집된 데이터는 병원 정보 시스템(HIS)에 자동 연동돼 의료진의 업무 효율성도 높인다. 병원 측은 중환자실뿐 아니라 일반 병실에도 중증 환자가 증가하는 환경 변화에 대응하기 위해 전 병상 도입을 결정했다고 설명했다. 특히 고령화와 중증·응급 중심 의료체계 재편 속에서 환자 안전 관리 수준을 한층 강화할 수 있을 것으로 기대하고 있다. 한양대학교병원은 이번 시스템 도입을 계기로 데이터 기반 환자 관리 체계를 고도화하고 AI 기반 예측 의료 환경 구축에도 나설 계획이다. 이형중 한양대학교 병원장은 “환자 안전 강화를 위한 핵심 전략으로 첨단 기술 도입을 지속 확대하겠다”고 말했다. 대웅제약 관계자는 “스마트 병상 모니터링 시스템이 의료 효율과 환자 안전을 동시에 높일 수 있는 모델이 될 것”이라고 강조했다.
2026-06-29 10:58:07
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Lessons in Leadership from the Classics | Chapter 4: Nvidia
The Patience and the Ascent of Jensen Huang How the Alleyways of Korea and the Floors of Semiconductor Factories Forged the Aesthetics of 古枯孤高 [Economy Daily] At the beating heart of the civilizational upheaval we call artificial intelligence stands one company and one man: Nvidia and Jensen Huang. The world measures them in market capitalization and market share. But the deeper truth of great leadership outlasts any number. It is the power of time, long and unhurried. It is the discipline of subtraction. It is the courage of solitude. And it is, finally, the dignity that comes only from having endured. In the vocabulary of East Asian philosophy, these four qualities compress into a single phrase: 古枯孤高 — ancient (古), austere (枯), solitary (孤), elevated (高). Nvidia's rise is not the story of a stock that spiked overnight. It is the story of these four characters slowly calcifying into the bones of one man and the culture of one company, across thirty years of painstaking accumulation. 古 — The Ancient: Time as the First Discipline Every great enterprise, if it is truly great, eventually earns its face — but only through time. Jensen Huang had been walking this earth as a businessman long before the world knew his name. His relationship with Korea begins here, and it begins on foot. According to domestic industry accounts from that era, Huang made repeated visits to Yongsan Electronics Market in Seoul in the late 1990s and early 2000s — when Nvidia was still an obscure startup struggling to be taken seriously. He came not as a visiting dignitary but as a salesman: explaining graphics cards to shop owners, persuading assemblers, winning trust one transaction at a time. Huang himself has said his connection to Korea dates to 1996. He has spoken of how South Korea's explosion of high-speed internet, its PC-bang culture, and the nationwide fever for StarCraft formed a critical foundation for Nvidia's early growth. Korea, in those years, was the world's most electrified laboratory for digital culture — and the heat of its gaming rooms, the sharpness of its consumers, the velocity with which it embraced new technology, all of it nourished a company that had not yet found its footing. This detail matters enormously. The histories of great corporations are often rewritten to begin in gleaming boardrooms or on famous stages. But Jensen Huang's formation happened in narrow storefronts, surrounded by towers of component boxes, in a market where customers were price-sensitive and performance-obsessed and utterly unimpressed by brand mythology. In Yongsan, he did not sell a brand. He sold credibility. He sold product knowledge. He sold the felt experience of superior performance. The I Ching offers an image for this season of a man's life: 潛龍勿用 — "the hidden dragon does not yet act." The dragon submerged beneath the water has not yet ascended to the sky, but it is already gathering strength, already orienting itself toward its direction. Korea was that submerged time for Jensen Huang. It was where the dragon went quiet and grew. 枯 — The Austere: The Discipline of Withholding Austerity is not poverty. It is restraint. And few companies in the history of Silicon Valley have practiced restraint as rigorously or as consequentially as Nvidia. While its competitors raced to win the surface war — chasing specification numbers, upgrading the cosmetics of their products, playing to the gallery of consumer benchmarks — Huang kept his organization's attention trained on something less visible and far more consequential: the underlying architecture of computation, the logic of parallel processing, the infrastructure that would eventually become the indispensable engine of artificial intelligence. This is the aesthetic the Chinese literati call 枯淡 — a beauty that comes not from ornament but from essence. The Diamond Sutra puts it this way: 凡所有相 皆是虛妄 — "all that has form is ultimately illusion." In business terms: what catches the eye rarely determines a company's fate. What determines fate is the capability that cannot be seen. Nvidia understood this early. That is why the Nvidia of today rests not on the appearance of its products but on the depth of its software ecosystem, its developer base, and the intellectual architecture that competitors cannot easily replicate. This philosophy of austerity extends to Huang's understanding of human character. Speaking at Stanford, he told students that the most important trait for success is not intelligence but resilience — and went further, saying, "I hope you will have the experience of suffering and hardship." It is a startling thing to say, and deliberately so. His point is unambiguous: greatness is not the product of cleverness alone. Character is forged not in comfort but in friction. Huang speaks from experience. He has publicly described being bullied in an American boarding school as a boy, washing dishes and cleaning bathrooms at minimum wage. His philosophy of hardship is not rhetoric. It is autobiography. Most organizations today speak to their people endlessly about well-being and are afraid to speak about tempering. But Jensen Huang did not flinch from the uncomfortable truth: growth always requires some degree of resistance and endurance. He knows this in his body. 孤 — The Solitary: The Courage of the Unfashionable Conviction Solitude, properly understood, is not the condition of being alone. It is the willingness to choose a road that others have not taken — and to walk it long enough to find out whether you were right. Nvidia was, for a very long time, a company that received no particular applause. It was known as a graphics chip company, and in that category, it was formidable. But inside that public identity, Huang carried a private and lonely conviction: that the dominant paradigm of computing would shift — that the age of the general-purpose CPU would eventually yield to an age of accelerated computing. Markets demand the present moment. Leaders sometimes have to absorb today's contempt in exchange for tomorrow's vindication. Only those who sustain that solitude earn the right to the rewards of early arrival. The Analects of Confucius puts it plainly: 德不孤 必有隣 — "virtue is never truly alone; it will always find its neighbors." What appears solitary and eccentric at the beginning eventually draws its community. And in the story of Nvidia and Korea, this movement from isolation to alliance is almost perfectly illustrated. The partnership between Huang and South Korea has long since outgrown its origins in retail sales. SK Hynix began collaborating with Nvidia on High Bandwidth Memory in the uncertain early days of that technology — a bet made before the outcome was clear. That relationship has since deepened into something that resembles co-development more than supply chain. Nvidia has been advancing large-scale AI chip supply and infrastructure cooperation with the Korean government, Samsung, the SK Group, Hyundai Motor Group, and Naver. The lonely salesman who once walked the aisles of Yongsan is now at the table with the leaders of Korean industry and government, shaping the architecture of the nation's AI future. The solitary vigil became a strategic alliance. What was once walked alone is now walked together. 高 — The Elevated: Altitude as Accountability Elevation is not merely position. It is character — the capacity to see farther and to hold responsibility longer than others can or will. The Doctrine of the Mean speaks of 至誠無息 — "true sincerity never rests." This is, unexpectedly, one of the most precise descriptions of how Jensen Huang has run his company. He did not build Nvidia on a passing fashion. He crossed product failures, market cynicism, supply chain crises, and geopolitical headwinds, and climbed — slowly, deliberately, one foothold at a time — to the position the company occupies today. This is not a mountain ascended in a season. This is a summit reached in decades. Here, again, Korea re-enters the story. However regal the title "emperor of the AI era" may sound, the circuitry running through that crown is substantially Korean. Korea began as the consumption frontier — the PC-bang, the gaming market, the early adopter culture that gave Nvidia its first mass foothold. It has since become the strategic frontier: the partner in HBM and advanced memory, the co-architect of AI factories and digital transformation. Between the image of Jensen Huang persuading shop owners in Yongsan and the image of Jensen Huang discussing AI infrastructure with the heads of Korea's largest conglomerates, there runs a very long river. But the river is unbroken. What he first saw in Korea was not merely a sales opportunity. He saw a society with an extraordinary capacity for fast technical comprehension, for organizing technology into industry, for connecting the work of the mind to the work of the factory floor. That insight lives inside every partnership he has built here since. A Reckoning for Korean Business What, then, should Korean business leaders take from this? The lesson is not complicated, though it is demanding. Innovation does not arise from eloquent mission statements. It arises from time endured, from the discipline to discard the inessential, from the independence to pursue an unpopular answer, and from the accountability that eventually transforms all of it into something worthy of the word dignity. Jensen Huang's career is not a story of a man who happened to catch the AI wave at the right moment. It is a story of sediment — of years and decades of experience, discipline, and conviction accumulating until they were precisely aligned with the door that history opened. Which asks certain questions of Korean business. Do we still carry the original instinct of those years when we wrestled with the market on the ground floor — when we had no reputation to trade on, only our knowledge and our reliability? Do we have the austere courage to strip away what is not essential? Do we have the nerve to choose the lonely right answer over the popular wrong one? Management, at its best, is completed in the love of people, in the respect for the work done in the field, and in the refusal to defy the logic of time and nature. The tree that grows too fast is hollow at its core. The success that comes too easily has shallow roots. Nvidia — Jensen Huang's Nvidia — took the opposite path. It stood like an ancient tree, silent and unhurried, enduring the winds and the droughts, growing upward alone toward the high place it had decided, long ago, to reach. His success, for that reason, is not a flash of light. It is light that stays. That is the lesson of 古枯孤高. Only those who have endured long enough ascend high enough. Only those who have passed through austerity reach genuine depth. Only those who have borne solitude long enough find themselves, one day, at the center of their age. Jensen Huang's Korean story is one essential thread in that larger narrative. Today's glory is conceived in yesterday's alleyways. Even the history of the world's most powerful technology company is completed, in the end, only on the accumulated sweat and trust of human beings. He is demonstrating that, quietly, every day. The author is a contributing columnist covering business philosophy, technology, and economic history.
2026-04-22 11:57:23