Interview about Yan Art Museum, winner of the A' Architecture, Building and Structure Design Award 2025
Yan Art Museum redefines the relationship between architecture and nature, serving as a cultural hub that celebrates local heritage. Nestled in the rugged landscape of Rushan, Shandong, its deconstructivist design draws inspiration from stony textures and flowing contours. The museum features water encircled plazas, artist studios, dynamic galleries, and performance spaces, all interconnected across levels. Textured concrete mimics natural stone, seamlessly integrating the structure with its surroundings while transforming the sloped terrain into functional pathways and plazas.
View detailed images, specifications, and award details on A' Design Award & Competition website.
View Design DetailsWater is a secondary element in this project, yet it plays a key role in reinforcing the museum’s intention to integrate with nature. The name of the museum, “Yan,” meaning rock, reflects the primacy of the mountain in the design concept. The water-encircled plazas emphasize, both spatially and temporally, the architecture’s respect for the natural environment rather than any intention to overpower it. This decision was informed by an observation of the local terrain, where mountains shape the topography first, and water emerges later through rainfall. This sequence that mountains preceding water represents the actual process of landform evolution. By placing water in the lower areas, it softens the built environment through reflection and enclosure, offering visitors moments of pause and contemplation. This not only responds to the site’s physical condition but also resonates with the traditional Chinese idea of harmony between mountain and water.
The use of concrete in this project was my way of breaking the common dilemma in natural settings where architecture either dominates the landscape or fades away from losing its features. Concrete is a standard material in contemporary architecture, and the textured finish we used is a conventional construction technique. It does not truly replicate stone but subtly recalls its qualities. Concrete itself shares mineral origins with rock. By intentionally applying a poor imitation of stone, I wanted to create a third path, one that neither competes with nature nor fully submits to it. This gesture encourages visitors to reflect on the relationship between the built and the natural, and how architecture can engage with its environment without resorting to mimicry or contrast.
Faced with such a rugged site, we recognized from the beginning that architecture cannot and should not attempt to conquer nature. The core approach was to work with the land rather than impose upon it. I broke down the building mass, lifting or embedding it into different elevations. Slopes that might have been considered obstacles became paths, terraces, and places to pause. Circulation and structure were shaped by the terrain itself, not by pre-set plans forcing the land to adapt. This approach not only generated a richer spatial experience but also preserved a sense of tension and respect between the building and its environment.
This design aimed to support the development of local traditional arts in Rushan, such as woodblock New Year prints and paper cutting. These art forms require a quiet space for creation, yet their small scale and decorative nature also make them suitable for direct engagement with the public, including display and sale. By integrating artist studios with the exhibition areas, we sought to remove the barrier between maker and viewer. Visitors can not only appreciate the finished work but also witness the process behind it. When artists are open to it, we encourage them to engage directly with the public, fostering interaction and exchange. This combination is also rooted in spatial logic. The courtyard-style entrance is where circulation naturally slows, either as people arrive or prepare to leave. It is an ideal place for interaction, observation, and informal encounters. This arrangement offers artists a functional and independent working environment while fostering opportunities for dialogue and sustainable creative practice.
The museum’s three-level organization was initially a response to the site’s natural slope (see Q3 for more on this), but it also draws deeply from Chinese cultural understandings of space and experience. First, the layered arrangement reflects the spatial logic of traditional Chinese ink painting, where depth is created not through linear perspective but through overlapping visual fields. Second, the idea of ascending to gain perspective is rooted in Chinese poetry and philosophy, and the top level’s open-air theater and views echo this cultural motif. Third, the layered circulation resonates with the traditional Chinese practice of emotionally engaging with landscape, guiding visitors through a gradual rhythm of movement and immersion. Additionally, the design references the “progressive spatial sequencing” often found in classical Chinese architecture, such as the Forbidden City or Jiangnan gardens, where each transition introduces subtle spatial variation. This sequential progression enriches the visitor experience, turning the journey through the building into a culturally embedded spatial narrative.
The open-air theater was initially designed for traditional performances, such as local opera and folk music, but we intentionally avoided making it a closed or rigid stage. It is conceived as an open platform, without a strict separation between performers and audience, allowing for flexible use. Cultural preservation is not only about protecting form, but also about creating conditions where traditions can naturally unfold. We see this space as an invitation for younger artists to engage with tradition in new ways, exploring reinterpretation and dialogue. Our goal is not to create a static monument, but a living space that can be continuously used, adapted, and reimagined.
In the early stages of design, I relied heavily on hand-drawing. It allowed for a level of freedom that broke away from rigid, rectilinear conventions and helped me imagine a spatial form that felt more organic and responsive to the landscape. Especially when working with mountainous terrain, this kind of intuitive sketching was essential. While the final output depended on digital tools, the foundational ideas were shaped by the looseness and spontaneity that only hand-drawing could offer. As for collage, although it was not a dominant method throughout the process, it was something I occasionally used during my studies at SCI-Arc when facing creative blocks. It became a way to fragment and reassemble spatial ideas, softening formal boundaries. This technique, rooted in a more contemporary Western design language, was deliberately applied to a project that sought to engage with traditional Chinese architectural sensibilities. I found the combination surprisingly effective in bridging these two worlds.
From an architectural perspective, the integration of shallow-rooted plants was part of a broader effort to balance the hard surfaces of reinforced concrete with existing natural elements, allowing the building to merge more seamlessly with its environment. Technically, these plants help regulate the microclimate. Concrete has a relatively low specific heat capacity, meaning it heats up quickly under sunlight, intensifying surface temperatures in a manner similar to the urban heat island effect. By incorporating vegetation and water features on rooftops and in low-lying areas, the design helps mitigate heat accumulation and creates a more comfortable, ecologically responsive environment. This approach reinforces our commitment to sustainability—not only as a visual gesture, but through measurable environmental impact.
In organizing the exhibition spaces, we followed a widely recognized curatorial principle. Providing both permanent and temporary galleries is a fundamental practice in professional museum design, especially for such a mid-scale institutions. Yan Art Museum includes several galleries arranged with a degree of flexibility, rather than following a rigid or symmetrical plan. This approach responds to the site’s conditions and the desired spatial experience. A service elevator connects the different levels, allowing for the transport of artworks between floors and enabling multi-level exhibition possibilities. While the layout was not designed around a strict curatorial concept, this openness provides curators with spatial freedom to adapt and reorganize exhibitions based on evolving content.
It is an honor to receive the Gold A’ Design Award, and I see Yan Art Museum as an opportunity to continue exploring what makes a cultural building truly resonate with its environment. Rather than positioning the project as a definitive model, I prefer to think of it as a starting point for further reflection, both on my part and within the broader architectural community. Some aspects of its spatial experience, material use, or integration with the landscape may reveal deeper relevance over time, including intentions that may have been formed intuitively rather than consciously. In environmentally sensitive contexts, I hope this project encourages others to see natural constraints not as limitations but as opportunities to create more meaningful and place-specific architecture.
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