A Strategy of Incompleteness: An Interview with Zhu Pei

Evangelos Kotsioris and Martino Stierli: How did the form and the organization of the Imperial Kiln Museum come about?

Zhu Pei: The early settlement of the city of Jingdezhen was developed around kilns. People used the kilns as social and public gathering spaces. In the winter, school classes were taught near them to make use of the radiating heat. As a result, a unique culture developed that was strongly connected to the process of porcelain production.

The museum is composed of eight brick vaults inspired by the traditional form of the kilns. The open and enclosed vaults were arranged at a distance from each other. This arrangement not only blocks the sunlight on the west side, offering shelter from sun and rain, but also transforms each vault into a wind tunnel, allowing the cool breeze to flow in and to capture the south-north wind in summer. Therefore, the form of the museum is adaptive to the local climate, providing natural sunlight and cross ventilation without the need for air conditioning.

In these ways, the design aims to rediscover and highlight the city’s cultural roots. By introducing a series of innovations in its organization and materials, the goal was to not only produce a contemporary museum experience, but also re-create the connection between kilns, porcelain production, and people.

What was the thinking behind mixing both recycled and new materials in the project?

The materials of the museum are predominantly new bricks mixed with recycled old kiln bricks to reflect the local culture of construction. Using recycled kiln bricks to build is a tradition in Jingdezhen, since brick kilns have to be demolished and rebuilt every few years in order to ensure their thermal performance. This interweaving of old and new elements creates curiosity. It evokes a spontaneous sense of nostalgia, while at the same time raising questions for the museum’s visitors. The past is preserved but transformed into a contemporary experience—a kind of contemporary archaeology.

The basic structure is a vault system. It is made of concrete poured in between two layers of brick walls. In addition to bricks, fair-faced concrete and wood are almost the only other materials. Concrete ceilings, stairs, and wood frame windows create a harmonious rhythm of natural materials, reflecting the artistic and cultural spirit of local craftsmanship.

How would you interpret the increased interest in the practices of reuse, renewal, and recycling by architects in China? And how did it arise in your own practice?

The theme of the exhibition is extremely meaningful in the current moment from a global point of view, especially in China. The most serious challenge facing mankind is climate change, and the rupture of regional culture. Reusing, renewing, and recycling are some of the most intelligent methods to help conserve energy and protect the natural environment. In China, there is a tradition of reusing old wooden frames and materials to build new buildings; the so-called “use of the useless,” which echoes an ancient Chinese philosophy. This tradition is not merely about conserving materials, but also about the continuation of historical memory and cultural identity.

In the last 15 years, I have worked on many renovation and rehabilitation projects, ranging from a small-scale traditional Beijing courtyard house to large industrial factory buildings. In that respect, the ancient wisdom of “the use of the useless” has been really essential to my architectural practice.