Final Summary

People often call the problem of combining Chinese traditionalism and modernism in architecture “the big roof controversy”. As a result of the global-swiping modernism trend as well as an increasing awareness of showing nationalism, contemporary Chinese architecture world found itself in an embarrassing situation: there are more and more buildings built in modernistic geometric boxes but were capped with Chinese traditional big roofs. This somewhat awkward combination gave rise to “the big roof controversy”: if simply adding some traditional structure on a modern architecture without truly introduce the structure’s underlying function can make the building “Chinese”? With a firm objection to the “big roof approach” and a belief that functions and appearance’s close relationship is best shown in vernacular architecture, I started my independent study with an ambition of finding the essence of Chinese vernacular architecture that is applicable to our modern living pattern.

I set off by reading Peter Rowe and Seng Kuan’s book, Architectural Encounters with Essence and Form in Modern China. This book gave me an overview of the development of Chinese modern architecture since mid 19th century, and how the problem of “keeping Chinese identity and embracing modernism at the same time” has plagued to Chinese architects ever since the introduce of modernism in China. Then, I looked into the major architectural styles of Chinese vernacular architecture, and sorted them into four categories according to their major features. Next, I mainly focused on the vernacular architecture forms of southeast China and studied their origin, features and mechanisms. Four major examples I studied are Huizhou vernacular architectures, the water system planning of the buffalo shaped village in Huizhou, Jiangnan water towns and waterfront preservation today, Fujian earthen houses (Tulou). Interestingly, each of these different topic gave me a different perspective to look into architecture and design. As a result, I have touched different aspects of shaping the built environment, including architecture, urban planning, landscape design, water system planning and communal housing issues. I want to especially thank my advisor Professor Michael Davis, whom gave this independent study an extraordinary width by providing me many cross-cultural perspectives. Under his help, I viewed each issue in a broad way by comparing each vernacular form with similar projects around the world. This blog served as a journal to record my research process, where I’ve posted the pictures I took or collected, articles I like, drawings and analysis diagram I did, as well as the writings from my each sub research topic.

Through this independent study, I got a deeper understanding of the social, historical and functional context of different vernacular architecture design. I was also constantly amazed by the cleverness of people in the ancient time, how they could utilize the force of nature to achieve something that we need to achieve by machines today. I was taught an important lesson that a good architecture design is always based on a throughout understanding of the site and the nature.

At the same time, my study also gave rise to another question: when we can achieve the same thing by nature and by machine, should use machine or let nature to do it? I think there is no absolute answer to this question. Personally I believe that we should not object the use of machines if they can make the process quicker and more efficient, but if the efficiency is based on the sacrifice of nature resource and environmental pollution, we should really call the use of machine into question. Furthermore, there lies an even more complex question of how to calculate the cost and benefit of the “machine approach” and the “nature approach”. I guess that is also why those green building rate systems such as LEED are often put into big controversy today.

Furthermore, I feel the Modern Architecture class I took this semester also helped me a lot in finding an answer to the “big roof controversy”. By studying at the ideas, theories and projects of architects since late 19th century, I was excited to find that many architects, such as Antoni Gaudi, Frank Lloyd Wright and Louis Khan, stand in the same line with me as turning to historical and vernacular architecture as their design inspiration. Meanwhile, I actually feel that the more I know, the less certain I am on my original view point that “big roof approach is superficial”. Le Corbusier, De Stiji and Bauhaus architects’ ardor in searching for a universal style should not be condemned simply because they were detached from history and localism; they are just some idealistic minds who want to bring human being a simpler, more equal and efficient. In the end, I found all my puzzles and wonders were best answered by Robert Venturi’s Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture: architecture should look into history but borrowed them in a way that is suitable to the contemporary context. A big roof without particular function built in can still be considered useful as long as it can reminds people the historical meaning it wants to convey (the “vestigial elements” mentioned in Venturi’s book). Maybe in architecture, there is just no absolute cut line between right and wrong, and that’s exactly reason why architecture has been such an intriguing subject that constantly arouses people’s interest to seek for the “best possible answer”.

My final part of this independent study includes three recent projects in China which I personally believe that they combined traditionalism and modernism in a well-balanced way. They translated and abstracted the traditional elements into a beautiful modern language. I feel like I can’t wait to know more about architecture, both theoretically and practically, so that I could start my journey of searching my “best possible answer” to contemporary Chinese architecture.


p.s. It was a pity that I only got to looked into 4 out of 12 major forms of Chinese vernacular architecture in depth due to the time limit, but I was glad that I made a good start. After this semester’s independent study, I am more and more certain that there is actually a lot of research value in Chinese vernacular architecture. I think there is still much to improve in my current research and I am also thinking about turning this topic into my senior thesis topic.

Case Study: Frangrance Hill Hotel

The Fragrant Hill Hotel, designed by the Chinese-American architect I.M. Pei, stands in a public park within the former Imperial Hunting Grounds outside Beijing, not far from the Summer Palace and other key historic sites. The design shows a harmonious combination of modern technology, Chinese vernacular elements and Pei’s personal signature style.

One major feature of the hotel is the use of succinct geometric forms. Square, triangle and rhomboid are Pei’s signature design elements. We have seen the use of it in his many other project for modern office building, such as the Bank of China building in Hongkong, and the Louvre Glass Pyramid in Paris. In the Fragrant Hill Hotel, this minimal modernist element was used again, but was rendered in a way that was naturally transformed into an abstraction of Chinese vernacular architecture form. Pei largely used the geometry forms in the windows, which was echoing the traditional shaped-window in Suzhou gardens.


(the repetition and variaion of simple geometric forms)

(the geometric windows in traditional Suzhou gardens)

The plan of the hotel also shows the wisdom of traditional Chinese garden design principle. When you look at the front entrance, the high rising walls hide everything inside and give one a mysterious feeling. However, as you enter into the central atrium, the space suddenly burst out as a well-lit environment. The tall trees and waters built in the atrium make one even hard to tell if it is inside or outside. The backyard garden of the hotel is an even opener space, with lakes, zigzag bridges, man-made rocks and high risen trees.

(comparison: high-rise parimeter walls at the entrance concealed the bigger world inside. left: entrance of Frangrant Hill Hotel; right: a traditional high-rise wall entrance in Huizhou)

(the central atrium of the hotel)



(the back garden of the hotel)

Underlying the design is a strategy to provide a "Third Way" wherein advanced Western technology is grafted onto the essence of Chinese vernacular architecture without literal imitation. The skylight was the only major imported component; everything else was constructed by local craftsmen using age-old techniques and materials. Fragrant Hill thus draws from the living roots of tradition to sow the seed of a new, distinctly Chinese form of modern architecture that can be adapted, not merely adopted, for diverse building types.

(the well-lit central atrium; the shades of the skylight roof was made of local material, bamboo)


Each guest room opens onto a courtyard through a shaped "window picture" that frames the landscape and brings the outdoors inside. Building and gardens merge inseparably in an intimate reciprocal relationship. This “framing landscape” technique is actually a common gardening technique used by the designer of Suzhou gardens.

("framing landscape" in Frangrant Hill Hotel)

("framing landscape" technique used in a traditional Suzhou garden, Zhuozheng Yuan)


the same beautifully cast shadow from the shaped-window in Frangrant Hill Hotel(left) and Zhuozheng Yuan, Suzhou(right)


Architect: I.M. Pei, C.C. Pei
Location: Beijing, China
Completion: 1982
Mechenical/Electrical: J. Roger Preston, Hong Kong
Interior: Dale Keller & Associates, Hong Kong
Awards: 1984 American Institute of Architects: National Honor Award

Case study: China Academy of Art

China Academy of Art (CAA) is one of the most influential art institutions in China. Located in Hangzhou, its new campus was completed in 2006. Designed by the dean of the architecture school of CAA, Shu Wang, the new campus took a very crude and natural appearance and borrowed a lot of elements from vernacular architectures from Southeast China.

(College of Visual Art Building, China Academy of Art)

The College of Visual Art building was designed in a four-sided courtyard shape, with a big courtyard at the center with is similar to tianjing (skywell) in Huizhou and Zhejiang vernacular architecture. The verdant corridors facing toward the tianjing were closed by wooden windows, which are open most of time and can be closed during windy typhoon season.



The buildings of the architecture department are basically boat-like building built on water. They were like the stone boat in Chinese royal gardens (see the stone boat from the Summer Palace, Beijing).


(left: Stone Boat, Summer Palace, Beijing right: Architecture Building, Chinese Academy of Art)

(Architecture Building in the Sunrise)

The façade of the Scultpture Department building were built in recycled materials, such as broken tiles, bricks, porcelain. It is said that one of the designers of this building, who is a faculty at CAA, took his students on sketching field trip and asked them to collect these deserted materials during the field trip. It is definitely a very avant-garde building in China both in terms of its appearance and environmentalist concept.
(The facade of the Sculpture Department Building is made of recycled tiles)

(Administration Building, China Academic of Art)

When Chinese Tulou Meets the Unité d’Habitation

I. A brief overview of Tulou Houses
War and conflict often bring about the destruction of architecture. However, to the Hakka people in southern China, these forces result in new constructions that define a cultural identity and place. In the southeastern Fujian Province of China, Hakka people built many fortresses like communal living buildings known as Tulou. Tulou can be in either square or round shapes, and they usually share the following features:
Concentric Geometric Forms: A Toulou is composed of several concentric circles or squares, with the outmost one tallest and the inner ones have decreasing number of stories.
Natural Material: The walls of Tulous are built with rammed earth and the structure of the building is built with wood. The maximum strength of the rammed earth is achieved by mixing the earth with sand, sticky rice and brown sugar. The whole structure is not built with a single metal nail; conjunctions are all achieved by wooden or bamboo nails.
Defense Purpose: In order to keep the residents of Tulou away from bandits and outside intruders, Tulou typically has only one entrance way, and the thick wooden entrance door is covered with iron. There are no windows at ground level and only very few windows are placed at the upper levels of the exterior wall. There are many small gun ports at upper level of the exterior wall which were used for shooting guns from inside. A building could withstand a protracted siege by being well-equipped with food and an internal source of water; Tulou also has its own sophisticated sewage system. The exterior earthen wall is extremely thick, usually up to six feet.
Family Communal Living Pattern: Each tulou houses a big family clan, with up to 80-100 families and as many as 500-600 inhabitants spanning three or four generations. The largest Tulou found today covered over 430,000 sq feet. Each sub-family owns a vertical unit. Each tulou is an amazing self-sustaining micro-community sufficient with food storage, space for livestock, living quarters, school, temple, armories and more. Typically, the outmost circular building is for private living space while the central buildings are public space. When the population of the clan grew, the housing expanded radially by adding another outer concentric ring, or by building another tulou close by in a cluster.
Building Plan Reflects Family Order and Social Belief: The interior layout of Tulou rigorously follows the family order and ethical codes Hakka people believe. Hakka people pay high respect to the elders; they build ancestral hall to commemorate their ancestors. The ancestral hall is placed at the innermost loop of the concentric circles and is also on the central axis of the building. In history, Hakka people were forced to move several times from the central plain area of China due to warfare, scarcity of resources and famine. The severe living conditions and constant moving experiences made Hakka people extremely united. This sense of unity and equality is reflected in tulou in that the high condensed private bedrooms are all uniform. People get same housing regardless gender, age and family status. Hakka people values study and knowledge a lot, so there is school built in each tulou community, and the school is put at the inner circles. All branches of a family clan shared a single roof, symbolizing unity and protection under a clan; all the family houses face the central ancestral hall, symbolizing worship of ancestry and solidarity of the clan.

The exact period in which tulou first appeared is not known. It is believed that they originate from the 13th or 14th century or even earlier, but most tulou we can see today were built in 19th century and early 20th century. Because of their mountainous and sometimes secluded locations, Tulou is not widely known to the architecture world until 1980s, and it was once seem as UFO from outer space and China’s secret nuclear base. In 2008, UNESCO granted the Tulou “apartments” World Heritage Status. The change in historical and social context made the Hakka people no longer need to build a building with such defensive purpose, but tulou is still of great research valuable. First, the building material is totally organic, it is taken from nature and is degradable by nature. The rammed earth material is also good at adjust the temperature and humidity of the interior environment, serving as a natural cooling system. Second, Tulou proposed possible way of the communal living pattern, which may be very helpful to our increasing need of high-density communal living structure.

II. Comparison: Solution to the Communal Living Problem--Unité d’Habitation vs. Tulou
Both the Unite d’Habitation in Marseille by architect Le Corbusier and the Tulou dwellings by Hakka people in China provide a unique way to solve the question of communal living structure. Although the two structures are extremely far away from each other in terms of time and geographical location, the shared some common approaches yet possess their own philosophy. I’m going to compare these two structures from the following aspects:
Social and Natural Reasons for A Communal Living Structure
The Unité d’Habitation and the Tulou arise from a similar social need for a high density communal dwelling with less space. Le Corbusier once argued his favor of a vertical city as follow:
Man has become a slave to his environment, which owes its origins to circumstances rather than to human design. The ideal city would cover less ground, accommodate more people and yet, 85 percent of its area would be open space. How? By building it upwards as a vertical garden city.
Despite Le Corbusier’s desire to experiment his great vision for a vertical city, the Unité d’Habitation was built because of a historically acute housing shortage in Marseille. In 1945, World War II made 50,000 people in Marseilles homeless, so there was an urgent need for a communal housing structure. Similarly, the origin of Tulou was a reaction to the much restricted local landscape and an increasing number of peoples need to be housed.
The landscape and site conditions in these two projects are also very similar. Both places share the same strip-like landscaped (see figure 1). Southwestern Fujian is enclosed by mountains, while Marseilles is a city sprawls outwards from a harbor and shaped by ocean and mountains. The limited land also requires the building to take an upward form.
The Living Cellular
One major big difference in these two approaches to communal living structures is the plan of individual living spaces, namely, the “cellular” in the buildings. In the Unité d’Habitation, Le Corbusier designed 26 variations of apartment forms, and all of them are based on the same concept of “interlocking flats”: a long, narrow two-storey apartments run the entire width of the Unité at one level, and half its width on the next, and in this way apartments in two successive floors are interlocked together, living a open central space in the middle served as “la rue intérieur”, or interior road. In this way, the living rooms are extended up through two stories. At each end of the room, the external walls are completely glazed behind brise soleil, which can be folded back to form a shallow balconies. The reveals of the balconies are painted in different colors. This polychrome character creates an illusion of spaciousness. For the viewer who standing in front of the huge building blocks and looking at the building, a polychronmy façade breaks up the over-large surface and create an effect of kaleidoscope.
In contrast, the tulou building’s individual living space is not that spacious compared to the Unité. Each person only get a one-story private bedroom, and the common family space such as living room, kitchen and dinning room is shared by the people who lives in the same vertical unit. The staircase in tulou takes up the space of a vertical unit, instead of interpenetrating in the apartments. People moves within the same floor through a circular verandah facing the central courtyard of the building. The space of private living cellular in tulou is less than the Unité partly because the inhabitants in tulou are all members of the same big family, so they may feel more comfortable with sharing a single big living room with the people in the same vertical unit.
Public Spaces and Communal living Facilities
Part of Le Corbusier’s vision of the vertical city is that, “with our modern techniques, mankind must be rehabilitated in conditions of nature. Sun, space and trees are essential joys.” He achieved this point by building a lot of public green space around the Unité for people to enjoy the nature. Another spotlight of the Unité is its roof garden, where a swimming pool and many other public facilities are placed. Given tulou’s defensive purpose, it is hard to exploit nearby space to build public garden like the Unité. The inside of tulou seems lack of green space either, since the floor of the public open space are all paved pebble roads. But the amount of sunlight, fresh air and rainwater is still ensured by the central open space, or tianjing (skywell).
One of the most controversial design in the Unité is its placement of the shop and restaurants in the middle floor. Many people argue that by enclose the shops in the middle of the building instead of open them at the ground floor, the shops become exclusive to the only residents of Unité, and these shops are also unlikely to pay their way. It sealed off outside customers and failed to facilitate the social integration between the Unité and the neighborhood communities. In contrast, although the placement of public gathering space at the center of the tulou is determined by traditional belief and social value, it nevertheless seems to be a good design solution. A central placement avoid unnecessary interruption of the upper private living floors and may create a community centripetal force by utilize the central space.

III. A Corbusian Tulou
After looking at the good design concepts in the Unité, I come up with a Corbusian plan for tulou, aiming at improve the living quality of the residents in tulou with modern design approach. Details please see the section diagram for the Corbusian Tulou.

(click image to enlarge)


IV. Some Final Thoughts: The Practicality of Unité and Tulou-like communal dwellings in the future
It is true that with an increasing population growth and less and less available lands, we will need more communal living structures in the future. However, do we really need a self-contained form of communal dwelling like the Unité and Tulou? A self-contained dwelling may be convenient for the life of peoples inside, but it at the same makes the building become an insular island. A self-contained dwelling structure is not good for maximizing the use of public facilities, may cause a huge waste in resource, and will also be bad for fostering a sense of neighborhood with other nearby dwellings. Some left wing critics even argue that the Unité is going to be un palais pour snobs if it continue to develop in this exclusive way.
However, if this kind of self-contained communal dwelling is located in suburban areas where public living facilities are relatively scare, the well-equipped Unité does have some incomparable advantages. This makes me think about further develop the form of Unité into a prototype for a future home built in severe natural environment. We may enclose the whole building with a huge glass cover so that the interior temperature can be totally under control; we may also make it into a prefab house that is easy to assemble. In that way, we may build these houses to area such as desert and rainforest where is currently considered as places not suitable for human living. This also makes it possible to conduct long-term and big team scientific expenditure to the Antarctic and outer space.
Another thing that is worth pondering is that the well functioning of the Unité and tulou actually requires a strong community responsibility supported by all tenants living in. Unless the tenants are cooperative, the whole fabric of collective living is likely to collapse. In this sense, the plan for a Unité is somewhat like a proposal for a dwelling in a communism society, a utopian world. This problem of community responsibility is easier to solve in the case of tulou given its tenants are all from the same big family. In a Unité where tenants are all unfamiliar with each other, it takes everybody’s moral improvement to maintain the order of the Unité. Although it may be a little bit hard to realize at the moment, but it may not be a bad way to teach people how to live in high moral standard world. This point perfectly illustrated Le Corbusier’s idea that if you life in a chaos building structure, you will lead a chaos life; if you live in a building structure of good order, your morality will be improved by the building.