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두나무·서울대, 창업 고정비 2년 덜어준다…스타트업 7곳 키운다
[경제일보] 가상자산 거래소 업비트를 운영하는 두나무가 서울대학교 경영대학과 손잡고 초기 스타트업의 사무공간과 경영 인프라를 지원한다. 단순 공간 제공을 넘어 창업 선배와 전문가의 경험을 연결해 청년 기업의 생존과 성장을 돕는 산학협력 모델이다. 두나무는 서울대 경영대학과 청년 창업 지원 공간 ‘SNU x UPbit Startup Studio’를 출범하고 지난 10일 입주 환영 행사인 ‘웰컴 데이’를 열었다고 14일 밝혔다. 선정 기업들은 지난 1일부터 입주를 시작했다. 입주 기업은 브레드크럼, 스틸컷, 이루리랩스, Beli Labs, 세타원코리아, PION, LeadAxis 등 7개사다. 인공지능(AI)을 비롯해 딥페이크 탐지, 의료, 불면증 개선, 교육 분야 AI 전환(AX) 등 기술 기반 사업을 추진하는 초기 기업들이다. 두나무는 입주사에 최대 2년간 전용 사무실과 공유공간, 업무기기를 무상으로 제공한다. 법무·재무·회계·보안·마케팅 전문가가 참여하는 상담 프로그램 ‘오피스 아워’와 최고경영자(CEO) 라운드테이블도 운영한다. 공개된 지원 내용에는 직접 투자나 지분 취득 조건이 포함되지 않았다. 초기 스타트업에는 임대료와 장비 구매비 같은 고정비 절감이 사업 지속 기간을 늘리는 데 도움을 줄 수 있다. 서울대의 연구·창업 인프라와 두나무가 보유한 보안·금융·플랫폼 운영 경험을 연결하면 기술 검증과 사업화 과정에서도 시너지를 낼 수 있다는 평가다. 스튜디오는 서울 강남역 인근에 조성된 것으로 알려졌다. 행사에는 송치형 두나무 회장이 참석해 입주 기업들의 사업 구상을 듣고 창업 과정에서 겪은 시행착오와 경영 경험을 공유했다. 송 회장은 “크고 작은 성공과 실패를 견뎌내고 결실을 만드는 과정 자체가 초기 스타트업이 가질 수 있는 가장 큰 자산”이라며 “대한민국 혁신을 이끌 스타트업들이 지속 가능한 성장을 이룰 수 있도록 든든한 페이스메이커 역할을 하겠다”고 말했다. 이번 사업은 두나무의 청년 지원 활동이 교육에서 창업 보육으로 확장됐다는 점에서도 의미가 있다. 두나무는 올해 서울대를 포함한 서울 지역 6개 대학에서 디지털자산 교육 프로그램 ‘업클래스’를 진행했다. 서울대도 창업지원단과 산학협력단 등을 중심으로 교내 기술과 청년 아이디어의 사업화를 지원해 왔다. 박소정 서울대 경영대학 벤처경영 연합전공 주임교수는 “대학의 연구 역량과 청년의 잠재력이 기업의 실질적인 지원과 결합한 모범적 협력 모델”이라고 평가했다. 한편 프로그램의 성과는 입주 기업 수보다 후속 투자 유치와 매출, 고객 확보, 사업 생존율 등으로 드러날 전망이다. 두나무와 서울대가 공간 지원 이후에도 투자자·고객사 연결과 기술 사업화를 얼마나 지속적으로 뒷받침하느냐가 스타트업 스튜디오의 경쟁력을 가를 것으로 보인다.
2026-09-14 09:01:27
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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