Aesthetic Accumulation: The Art of Light and Shadow in Architecture

I have several good friends in the design world, and they all live in houses designed by master architects. One is a native of Hangzhou, living in the Qianjiang Times Apartment designed by Wang Shu, a Pritzker Prize-winning architect. Unlike the monotonous online complaints, his home’s landscape and views are almost flawless, with balconies and courtyards kept clean and full of a fairy-like atmosphere—growing flowers and grass, walking dogs, raising cats, chill! Another friend lives in Suzhou, in the Future City by the Japanese MAO Architects, which has a strong futuristic vibe. Living in a house with a sense of design is very interesting. The morning light flows along the curved surfaces like a waterfall. In spring and autumn, the walls tilt at right or oblique angles, harmonizing with the breathing and ventilation ducts. Alvar Aalto, Le Corbusier, Tadao Ando—masters with very different philosophies—always give you the illusion that people from different eras are sitting in front of you, discussing design concepts. The same light at the same time—one side says it’s too solemn, the other says it’s too individualistic; the same material—one side says it’s simple, the other says it’s complex; one side wants subtraction, the other emphasizes decoration; one side wants privacy, the other transparency. Arriving at the Jingdezhen Sanshan Wuyue Hotel, before even getting out of the car, a glance made my thoughts suddenly leap out. Opening my architectural history notes, the definition of Brutalism solidified in my mind as concrete blocks. Le Corbusier’s Le Peuple House, Butantã House, St. Nicholas Church, Ronchamp Chapel, London Royal National Theatre... those terms that have held important places in my life appeared before my eyes under the refraction of light. Living up close in concrete architecture, you realize Brutalism is not cold; the materials reveal their origins; the collision of geometric forms is not confrontation but a search for a lasting rhythm of support. You find that decades ago, when everyone was still desperately studying surface materials, the raw muscular materials were already exploring new ways to present themselves. Oh—now I’m not reviewing knowledge, but at this moment and place, in Jingdezhen, unexpectedly standing among such architectural complexes, I think to myself, Jingdezhen is getting better and better.