Sustainability, Culture and Progress Lessons from Vernacular Architecture

Mengbi Li

A thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Supervisors: Prof. Xing Ruan, Dr. Scott Hawken, A/Prof. Harry Margalit

Faculty of Built Environment

February 2018

ORIGINALITY STATEMENT

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Acknowledgements

It is with great pleasure that I acknowledge those who have contributed to my thesis in so many ways. Without their help, it could not have been accomplished.

I am fortunate enough to have three of the most conscientious and knowledgeable supervisors. First, I want to thank my main supervisor Prof. Xing Ruan. During my PhD studies, Prof. Ruan taught me almost every aspect of life as a scholar, from conducting research to presenting findings. For this I am deeply grateful. His thought-provoking comments and suggestions always challenged and inspired me to think further and work harder on my thesis. Without his tireless guidance and continuous encouragement, I would not have found myself able to persevere and complete this challenging yet exciting research project. Second, I wish to express my sincere appreciation to Dr. Scott Hawken and Associate Prof. Harry Margalit. Dr. Hawken spent countless time and effort on revising and polishing the various versions of my thesis. He was always willing to share his expert ideas and offer me constructive feedback. Associate Prof. Margalit showed great kindness as a supervisor in always making himself available to help, especially in the first and final year of my PhD study.

I am indebted to Dr. Dijana Alić and Dr. Maryam Gusheh for their insightful comments. I want to thank Prof. Bruce Judd for his encouragement in my first international conference. I am grateful to Dr. Jiawen Han, Dr. John Blair, Mr. Louis Thevenin, and Ms. Marini Samaratunga for their professional and academic support in my research. My gratitude also goes to Prof. Jiang Gaochen, Prof. Wang Dong, Prof. Zhu Liangwen, Prof. Tang Xiaoxiang, Prof. Yang Dayu, Associate Prof. He Yin and Prof. Cun Yunji for their selfless help.

I also want to thank my wonderful PhD colleagues in the Faculty of Built Environment, who have made my life at UNSW so enjoyable and memorable. Dr. Judith O’Callaghan and Ms Suzie Scandurra deserve my sincere gratitude for their excellent administrative support. The University of New South Wales has offered me various forms of support, including a generous living stipend, a well-resourced library, and an excellent night-escort service. I also want to thank the Chinese

government for awarding me the prestigious 2015 Chinese Government Award for Outstanding Self-financed Students Abroad.

I am grateful to the villagers, local scholars and craftsmen of Nuodeng Village, Shaxi Village, Baisha Village and Ninglang Village for their generous hospitality and informative insights during my fieldwork in 2013 and 2015. I am grateful to the Suna & İnan Kıraç Kaleiçi Museum, Dali Museum, Lijiang Museum, Foundation Le Corbusier and Barragán Foundation for providing me with valuable information and materials.

Last but not least, I owe my dear husband a special debt of gratitude for being so caring and understanding during this long period. I have been keeping a routine of long-day work till midnight for nearly every day and most of my weekends were also occupied by my PhD studies. Despite this, my husband always shows me greatest understanding and support. My parents and grandparents always provided me with strong spiritual support. The best lesson I got from them is a strong belief in persistent endeavour and hardworking. They have set an example for me with their life and attitude.

My grandma looked after me for a long time when I was a child, so we had been keeping a special emotional tie. Although she became very sick during my PhD years, she had always tried to be the person who could offer me the strongest support and encouragement. Unfortunately, my grandma could not wait any longer and she passed away just before my final round of submission. I wish she could hear my apology for not being able to complete this thesis earlier. However, I believe at least she could see that I have honestly devoted these years of my life to this one thing I truly love. This thesis is dedicated to my grandma.

Abstract

The modern ideology of progress emphasises material change and visual improvement, particularly in modern architecture which emphasises that new forms must be invented to reflect changing times and fashions. This conceptual approach to architecture rests on preconceptions that renewed architectural fashion can boost consumption and contribute to economic growth. Such an approach requires a large amount of resources and energy as well as a disregard for cultural continuity. At a time when low-carbon living and sustainability are the primary concerns for the future of our planet, it is therefore necessary to rethink concepts of progress which prioritize consumption and gratuitous material change.

This thesis investigates the cultural significance of the largely stable material nature of China’s pre-modern vernacular architecture in relation to notions of progress and sustainability. It does this in three ways. First, rather than seeking physical change, the evolution of pre-modern Chinese architecture manifested the potency of the renewal of intangible heritage. Second, intangible cultural traditions were linked with architecture through a process of collective design and construction. Through particularly ethical and moral building processes, the free pursuit of architectural novelty was limited. Third, pre-modern Chinese cultural characteristics such as ancestor worship and animism illustrated why architectural forms remained stable and were sustained in pre-modern China. Through ancestor worship and animism, pre-modern society tended to look to history and the natural environment for guidance rather than pursuing material novelty.

To better gain an understanding of architectural change and progress and the distinctive lessons of vernacular architecture, the thesis also investigates selected cases of modern architecture in each chapter. This thesis reveals a particular conundrum—that is, the enthusiasm of some modern architects in vernacular architecture and the past, and their obligation to be modernist ideals and progress. Detailed and critical analysis is undertaken to explore the lessons learned as well as creative misinterpretations of these lessons.

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In conclusion, this study suggests that the potential stability of built forms and dynamism of the spirit of the time are not necessarily mutually exclusive. In architecture ‘progress’ is more than an improvement based on physical change and includes intangible cultural change. The capacity to sustain and renew the past is also a type of progress. This thesis then argues for collectiveness, history and affinity with nature as central to redefining progress for a more sustainable modern architecture.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents...... v List of Figures ...... vii 1 Chapter 1: Introduction ...... 1

1.1 Progress and Culture ...... 3 1.1 Progress and Sustainability ...... 7 1.2 Progress and Architecture ...... 12 2 Chapter 2: Architectural Progress and the Architectural Precedent ...... 37

2.1 The Evolution of The zhaobi Across Time and Space ...... 38 2.2 Le Corbusier’s Promenade Architecturale and the Hidden Courtyard ...... 51 2.3 Conclusion ...... 79 3 Chapter 3: The Production Process: Architectural Progress and Collective Memories ...... 84

3.1 Collectiveness and Discouraged Novelty ...... 86 3.2 Li Xiaodong: Between Collectiveness and Innovation ...... 103 3.3 Conclusion ...... 131 4 Chapter 4: Cultural Tradition, Architectural Progress and Ancestor Veneration 137

4.1 Ancestor Worship, the Past and the Better Life ...... 139 4.2 Hassan Fathy: Between the Past and a Better Life ...... 169 4.3 Conclusion ...... 183 5 Chapter 5: Cultural Tradition, Architectural Progress, the Cosmic Model and Animism ...... 190

5.1 The Cosmic Model, Animism and the Built World ...... 192 6 Chapter 6: Conclusion ...... 218

6.1 Reflection on Methodology ...... 220 6.2 The Contribution of Intangible Culture to Our Understanding of the Sustainable Value of Progress ...... 222 6.3 Collectiveness ...... 225 6.4 Looking to the Past for a Renewed Understanding of Progress and Sustainability ...... 227 6.5 Synthesis, Contribution and Future Study ...... 232

Appendix A: A Matrix of Investigated Architectural Examples ...... 238 Appendix B: Timeline of Chinese History ...... 241 Bibliography ...... 242

List of Figures

Figure 2-1 Restored Picture of Fengchu Architectural Relics of the Western Zhou dynasty 1046–771 BCE (Fu, Xinian, “An initial study on the Western Zhou dynasty architectural relics in Fengchu, Shanxi,” In Fu Xinan jianzhushi lunwenji 傅熹年建筑史论文集 [Collected papers of Fu Xinian on architecture history], 33-45: Wenwu chubanshe, 1998.) ...... 40

Figure 2-2 The zhaobi with ‘福’ (good fortune or blessing) (photos by the author) ...... 45

Figure 2-3 Model and Sketch of Sanfang Yi Zhaobi (photo and drawing by the author) ...... 46

Figure 2-4 The zhaobi of the Zhang family with ‘百忍家风’ (a family tradition of tolerance) (photos by the author) ...... 47

Figure 2-5 An old lady finishing her worship in front of the zhaobi (photos by the author) ...... 48

Figure 2-6 Left, the street; right, a glance at the interior space of Arab courtyard gained on an airplane (sketched by Le Corbusier from Le Corbusier. 1933. La Ville Radieuse: eléments d’une doctrine d’Urbanisme pour l’équipement de le civilisation machiniste, Vincent, Fréal.) ...... 58

Figure 2-7 Corbusier’s sketch of the interior view of an enclosed Arab courtyard (sketched by Le Corbusier from Le Corbusier. 1933. La Ville Radieuse, Vincent, Fréal.) ...... 58

Figure 2-8 A postcard quoted by Corbusier in his book (Le Corbusier. 1933. La Ville Radieuse, Vincent, Fréal.) ...... 59

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Figure 2-9 3D Model of Villa Jeanneret-Perret (Yellow: entrance to the garden; Green: enclosed courtyard) (processed based on the image from Carlo Fumarola’s collection) ...... 65

Figure 2-10 3D model and plans of Maison Citrohan (Version A, Yellow: route leading to the terrace; Green: enclosed terrace) (figure adapted by the author over the drawings from Tōkyō Daigaku. Kenchiku Gakka. Andō Tadao Kenkyūshitsu, Le Corbusier: Houses (Tōkyō: Tōkyō TOTO Shuppan, 2001), 57.) ...... 66

Figure 2-11 3D model and plans of Maison Citrohan (Version B, Yellow: route leading to the terrace marked; Green: enclosed terrace) (figure adapted by the author over the drawings from Tōkyō Daigaku. Kenchiku Gakka. Andō Tadao Kenkyūshitsu, Le Corbusier, 58.) ...... 67

Figure 2-12 3D model and plans of Villa d’Auteuil (Yellow: route leading to the terrace; Green: roof garden marked) (figure adapted by the author over the drawings from Tōkyō Daigaku. Kenchiku Gakka. Andō Tadao Kenkyūshitsu, Le Corbusier, 80-1.) ...... 68

Figure 2-13 3D model, plans and Elevations of Maison de week-end Rambouillet (Yellow: route leading to the terrace; Green: roof garden) (figure adapted by the author over the drawings from Tōkyō Daigaku. Kenchiku Gakka. Andō Tadao Kenkyūshitsu, Le Corbusier, 86-7.) ...... 69

Figure 2-14 3D model and plans of Villa La Roche-Jeanneret (Yellow: route leading to the terrace; Green: roof garden; Blue: the mezzanine floor marked) (figure adapted by the author over the drawings from Tōkyō Daigaku. Kenchiku Gakka. Andō Tadao Kenkyūshitsu, Le Corbusier, 86-7.) ...... 70

Figure 2-15 3D model and plans of Villa Savoye (figure adapted by the author over the drawings from Tōkyō Daigaku. Kenchiku Gakka. Andō Tadao Kenkyūshitsu, Le Corbusier, 198.) ...... 71

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Figure 2-16 The plan of Terrace House II in Ephesus (Green: courtyards; The six houses of Terrace House II are represented by the various colours.) (drawn after photo by the author) ...... 74

Figure 2-17 Decoration of an enclosed courtyard in Terrace House II (photo by the author) ...... 74

Figure 2-18 Three examples of the sortied courtyard in Algerian vernacular houses (Green: courtyard; Yellow: the special opening) (figure adapted by the author over drawings from Ragette, Friedrich. Traditional Domestic Architecture of the Arab Region. Edition Axel Menges, 2003.) ...... 77

Figure 2-19 Le Corbusier’s close observation of the double level courtyard in Algerian vernacular houses and the sketches (yellow: the special opening; green: Courtyard) (above left, courtyard of the upper level; above right, courtyard of the lower level; below left, courtyard of the upper level with a small sketch of the plan; below right, enlarged drawing of the plan) (figures adapted by the author based on Le Corbusier’s sketch from Le Corbusier, La Ville Radieuse, 232.) ...... 78

Figure 3-1 Ink lines and Luban Rule portrayed as sacred objects for worshiping, at Hongshan Benzhu Temple in Hongshan Village, China (photos by the author) . 97

Figure 3-2 Luban Ruler and the way of using it shown by Mr. Zhang, in Nuodeng Village China (photos by the author) ...... 98

Figure 3-3 Left, a building of Yuhu Primary School; right, a vernacular house in Yuhu Village (photos by the author) ...... 105

Figure 3-4 Z-shaped plan and two courtyards (photos by the author; the diagram drawn by the author over the ground-floor plan is from Li Xiaodong, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre,” Architectural Journal (2006), 31.)106

Figure 3-5 Left, Empty exhibition area; right, spare furniture were piled up in the unused museum (photos by the author) ...... 106

Figure 3-6 A new village centre later built by the locals (photo by the author) .. 107

Figure 3-7 Analysis diagram of the wind and the courtyard. Left, the two open courtyards in Li’s design; right, the enclosed courtyard built by the locals (wind effects drawn by the author over Li’s plan from Xiaodong, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre,” 31; and plan of local courtyard from Jiang, Gaochen, Lijiang, 170.) ...... 108

Figure 3-8 Large signpost painted on the wall along the main street saying ‘The former residence of Rock’s Museum’ (photo by the author) ...... 109

Figure 3-9 The narrow winding village lane leading to the entrance of the museum and Yuhu Primary School and Village Cultural Centre (photos by the author) .. 109

Figure 3-10 The location of the bus station, main street, old entrance built by the locals, newly-design entrance and narrow lane. (figure adapted by the author over the satellite image from Google earth) ...... 110

Figure 3-11 The entrance of Yuhu Primary School designed by the architect and Village Cultural Centre, with the area in front of it (photos by the author) ...... 111

Figure 3-12 The main street of Yuhu Village with a rock carved “玉湖小学 (Yuhu Primary School)” (photo by the author) ...... 111

Figure 3-13 A garden with trees and seats in front of the original entrance of Yuhu Primary School (photo by the author) ...... 112

Figure 3-14 Houses in other villages in the region (photos by the author) ...... 114

Figure 3-15 Local vernacular houses in Yuhu Village (photos by the author) ... 115

Figure 3-16 From inside the window, the glass pane is only fixed by a thin wooden edge which is marked red (photo by the author) ...... 116

Figure 3-17 The thin wooden sash used to fix the glass pane has been broken and the upper section is loose. A gap between the strip and the frame is clearly visible and highlighted by red circles (photo by the author) ...... 116

Figure 3-18 One of the narrow passageways with floor-to-ceiling glass walls on both sides (photo by the author) ...... 117

Figure 3-19 Glass wall viewed from outside (photos by the author) ...... 118

Figure 3-20 Stone and timber gables of local vernacular houses in Yuhu Village (photos by the author) ...... 119

Figure 3-21 Upper floor used as storage space (the cabinet next to window is for storing grain and the hanging bags contain local bacon. All of these require good ventilation) (photos taken at other villages in the region) (photo by the author) 119

Figure 3-22 Timber lattice used on the gable at Yuhu Primary School (photos by the author) ...... 120

Figure 3-23 Indoor wooden staircases in local vernacular houses in other villages close to Yuhu (photos by the author) ...... 121

Figure 3-24 Bridge-like open air passageways (photos by the author) ...... 123

Figure 3-25 Local vernacular houses with curved roofs and raised corners (photos by the author) ...... 124

Figure 3-26 High tilt roof built in straight lines at Yuhu Primary School (photo by the author) ...... 124

Figure 3-27 Tiles have been blown away from a corner of the roof of Yuhu Primary School (Photo by the author) ...... 124

Figure 3-28 Veranda-like structure in front of the timber structure of a local house (photo by the author) ...... 125

Figure 3-29 Overhang and timber structured façade of Yuhu Primary School (photos by the author) ...... 126

Figure 3-30 Multi-level Cobble-paved surface (photo by the author) ...... 127

Figure 3-31 Multi-layered features in the grounds of the school (photos by the author) ...... 127

Figure 3-32 Additional soft tiles laid on the cobble-paved grounds of the temporary kindergarten courtyard (Photos by the author) ...... 128

Figure 3-33 Narrow passageway on the ground floor (with child) and the first floor (photos by the author) ...... 128

Figure 3-34 Firehose trunks along the narrow passageways (photos by the author) ...... 129

Figure 3-35 The location of the channels and added fences (diagram adapted by the author over the master plan from Li Xiaodong, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre,” 31.) ...... 129

Figure 3-36 Added fences and iron wiring (photos by the author) ...... 130

Figure 4-1 The house for ancestors of the Ouyang family in Shaxi Town, Dali state, Yunnan Province (photo by the author) ...... 157

Figure 4-2 The two phoenixes atop of the ancestors’ house (photo by the author) ...... 158

Figure 4-3 An ancestors’ house in Taoyuan village (photo by the author) ...... 158

Figure 4-4 Information about ancestors was written on the back wall of the building model behind the lattice doors (photo by the author) ...... 159

Figure 4-5 The owner preserved the building model carefully (Photo by the author) ...... 159

Figure 4-6 Simplified ancestors’ houses (photos by the author) ...... 160

Figure 4-7 The tablets with ancestors’ information were installed behind the doors (photos by the author) ...... 160

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Figure 4-8 The cave-like niche for ancestors (photos by the author) ...... 161

Figure 4-9 The niche decorated with carvings mimicking architectural structures (photo by the author) ...... 161

Figure 4-10 Different cases with the written wishes ‘祖德流芳’ (the goodness of ancestors will long last) (photos by the author) ...... 162

Figure 4-11 The family works together to prepare a welcome for their ancestors (photos by the author) ...... 164

Figure 4-12 An altar with offerings (photo by the author) ...... 165

Figure 4-13 Prepared clothes and bed sets for ancestors (photos by the author) ...... 165

Figure 4-14 A letter that comes with offerings (photos by the author) ...... 166

Figure 5-1 Above left, Naxi scriptures written in pictography; above right, a Naxi clergyman writing pictographic calligraphy; below left, a contemporary banner written in pictography (expressing gratitude to Chairman Mao); below right, pictography written on ritual tablets (photos by the author) ...... 193

Figure 5-2 The Naxi’s pictographic characters. Left, ‘sky’; right, ‘land’ (Li, Mexie Dictionary of Pictograph)...... 195

Figure 5-3 The Naxi’s pictographic characters. From left to right, ‘sunny’; ‘cloudy’; ‘spring’; ‘summer’; ‘autumn’; ‘winter’ (Li, Mexie Dictionary of Pictograph)...... 195

Figure 5-4 Left, A combination of the characters of ‘sky’ and ‘land’; right, the sketch of traditional Chinese architecture drawn by Jørn Utzon. (Li, Mexie Dictionary of Pictograph; Utzon, Jørn, “Platforms and Plateaus: Ideas of a Danish Architect,” Zodiac 10 (1962), 116.) ...... 196

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Figure 5-5 A character representing family (Yang, Dongba Jiao Suo Fanyin De Shengzhi Wenhua 东巴教所反映的生殖崇拜文化 [A Culture of Reproductive Worship Reflected in Dongba Culture].) ...... 196

Figure 5-6 A façade left open (photo by the author) ...... 197

Figure 5-7 ambiguous boundaries and removable lattice doors (closed, open and removed) (photos by the author) ...... 198

Figure 5-8 Frame (drawn by the author after Li, Xuemei and Smith, Kendra Schank) ...... 199

Figure 5-9 A scene of frame erecting (the locals call it as “the ritual of erecting columns”) (sketched by the author)...... 199

Figure 5-10 Frames connected by crossbeams and bays expanded by adding more frames (drawn by the author after Li, Xuemei and Smith, Kendra Schank) ...... 199

Figure 5-11 Examples of the assembled and erected timber frameworks (photos by the author) ...... 200

Figure 5-12 The walls were built separately (photos by the author) ...... 200

Figure 5-13 The Naxi’s geomancy compass (Li Guowen 李国文, Dongba Wenhua yu Naxi Zhexue 东巴文化与纳西哲学 [Dongba Culture and the Naxi Philosophy]) ...... 202

Figure 5-14 Vistas and the relative position between man and sky. Left, vertical vista in pre-modern Chinese courtyard house; right, horizontal vista from a high- rise apartment (sketched by the author) ...... 204

Figure 5-15 Bat patterns (photos by the author) ...... 205

Figure 5-16 Paving with pebbles, tiles and bricks (photos by the author) ...... 205

Figure 5-17 A ‘tile cat’ in the centre of the main ridge (photo by the author) ..... 206

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Figure 5-18 The zones defined by water (drawn by the author based on the satellite image from Google earth) ...... 207

Figure 5-19 Streams, streets and bridges (above left, the photo of a map posted in Dayan town; photos by the author) ...... 209

Figure 5-20 Three ponds well (photo by the author) ...... 210

1 Chapter 1: Introduction

‘I am a slow walker, but I never walk back.’

—Abraham Lincoln

In today’s world, it is arguable that progress is largely defined according to material changes and visual improvements. This is particularly true in modern architecture, in which form must be invented to represent the changing times and fashion. Yet, there are many more dimensions of progress in architecture beyond physical change. This thesis suggests that in architecture, progress need not be material, but can be based upon the intangible aspects of architectural culture. The evolution of the intended meaning does not necessarily depend on the physical change of form, but can also be fulfilled by the updating of intangible dimensions, such as changes of ritual, language, convention and cognition. Attempting to broaden the concept of progress in architecture is especially of significance because it may add a salutary dimension to the pursuit of sustainability in our time.

This research is inspired by pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture and draws upon historical literary works and artworks as well as fieldwork. The study finds that progress in pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture was largely through the evolution of intangible heritage rather than changes in physical form. Therefore, this research further enquires how and why this kind of architectural evolution could be sustained in pre-modern China. In summary, this study suggests that the mechanism that sustained this kind of architectural evolution was mainly via the collective design and construction process which was based on a specific ethic of building. In particular, physical innovation that would stimulate material consumption was considered immoral. Furthermore, the culture that underpinned this architectural attitude performed as a double helix. One strand was ancestor worship which enshrined the connection between the past and future. The other was influenced by the culture of animism, nature being respected as an ideal model of shelter.

This thesis is expected to draw attention to the evolution of architecture that is not based on physical changes and highlight a mix of both tangible and intangible qualities. This research provides an opportunity to accentuate the pre-modern meaning of ‘progress’ in architecture, which often refers to history and the past. The investigation shows that in pre-modern architecture, improvements in realization, cognition and understanding are often measures of progress. Pre- modern architecture’s continual references to the past and the natural environment give vernacular architecture a depth of meaning that deserves more attention, because this historical depth is close to the intergenerational equity that is at the heart of the concept of sustainability.

In order to examine the importance of the lessons outlined above, the thesis undertakes corresponding case studies to investigate modern architecture and reveals to what extent these lessons have been remembered under the modern ideology of progress: Firstly, the thesis explores how an architects’ works evolved from precedents. Secondly, the thesis examines how modern architects practice collective design and construction. Thirdly, what challenges modern architects might encounter and what achievements they might make, if he or she wishes to discuss the past and future or has a profound attachment to the natural environment.

The significance of sustainable development has alerted architects to other concerns. They are non-visual issues and involve resource depletion and environmental pollution. These broader dimensions and wider social narratives suggest that there is an urgent need for a fundamental reassessment of the discourse and understanding of ‘progress’ in architecture.

Globally, urbanisation has presented the world with increasing problems, and the way modern architects build and design throughout the world presents challenges for the pursuit of sustainability. 1 It has been a common view that making progress from poverty to prosperity could not be realised without urbanisation. 2 In recent decades the speed and scale of urbanisation have been astonishing and this trend will continue, especially in contemporary China. With the largest population in the world, China possesses more than 80% of the new urban land added in East Asia

between 2000 and 2010, and the country’s urban population growth rate was 3.8 percent per year. 3 China’s urbanized population rose rapidly from 10.64% of the total in 1949 when the People’s Republic of China was established, to 56% in 2015. 4 The urban population at the end of 2015 was 771 million. 5

Urbanisation is equated with modernisation and is regarded as ‘an inevitable requirement for promoting social progress’. 6 However, what has accompanied this rapid growth is an increasingly deteriorating environment and shortage of resources. Pre-modern Chinese architecture is quickly disappearing, not only the visible heritage, but also the intangible legacy, such as the substantial vernacular architecture and the way of life in southwestern China. Consequently, this thesis aims to contribute to contemporary China by reminding the country of the constructive lessons in its own history.

There are five sections in this introductory chapter. Firstly, through revisiting the history of the idea of progress, the study emphasises that in its evolution, we should rethink this overarching idea of progress now that low-carbon living and sustainability are primary concerns. The pre-modern Chinese concept of progress seems closer to today’s concept of ‘sustainability’ and can help in the reassessment of specific modern architectural approaches. Secondly, through reviewing the concept of sustainability, this research raises the fundamental contradiction between the concepts of material progress and principles of sustainability. Thirdly, the resources and energy consumed by the building and construction industry suggest its importance as an engine of economic growth and further support the necessity of expanding the concept of progress in architecture. Fourthly, the two main foci of the thesis—pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture and the twentieth century modern architecture will be discussed. Finally, the structure of this thesis will be described.

1.1 Progress and Culture

1.1.1 Pre-modern Societies, ‘Change’ and ‘Progress’

Pre-modern peoples’ idea of seeking improvement to their family members or their community’s circumstances is different from the modern notion of pursuing progress. As Lemon notes, [Ancient peoples] had no notion of ‘historical progress’, and consequently no belief in it… In the modern Western world the belief in ‘human progress’ is so deeply underlying it is taken for granted…7 According to Lemon and the historian J. B. Bury, ancient people held a view of eternal return, which is different from the modern linear notion of history, in the sense that we do not go backwards.8 In ancient China, Laozi described the ultimate return as a fulfilment of life. All things alike go through their processes of activity, and (then) we see them return (to their original state). When things (in the vegetable world) have displayed their luxuriant growth, we see each of them return to its root.9 Ancient Egyptian saw scarab as a symbol of reborn. Mayans and Aztecs also held a cyclical view of time. During the postclassical era, the improvement in the domain of spirit was emphasised. For example, in Europe, entering the religious life would be considered as an improvement. Joachim of Fiore’s theory of the three ages describes a progressive pattern from the Age of the Father and the Age of the Son, to the Age of the Holy Spirit. The Age of the Holy Spirit lies in the future, and is described as the ‘reign of freedom’ in a perfect world. 10 During this period in pre- modern China, the word jinbu (progress) represented a deepened comprehension, awareness and cognition in religion, the classics, sages’ thoughts and the will of heaven. For example, in Zhu Zi Yulei 朱子语类 (The Words of Zhu Zi), Zhu Xi wrote articles about how to achieve progress through studying and gaining a more in- depth understanding and he encouraged people to read more and try to obtain insight rather than simply reading. He also discussed details of how to gain a deeper understanding of the classics and the sage’s thoughts. He encouraged students to overcome difficulties and reminded them that they should not neglect nuances. 11 Both Xiang Ziying’s poem, Huanxisha and Shi Daoyuan’s Jingdechuandenglu were intended to encourage people to strive for a better understanding of Buddhist ideals. 12

In many languages, the original meaning of ‘progress’ was irrelevant to a linear notion of history about being more advanced. At first, it only described people or animals’ action of walking forward.13 The meaning of ‘progress’ we often use today can be seen as a metaphor to ‘the action of walking forward’. It represents individuals or the society developing towards an improved or more advanced condition.14 According to scholars such as Becker and Hazard, in the West, the modern doctrines of progress emerged in the eighteenth century. 15 The Enlightenment and French Revolution promoted the spread of the concept. Remarkable development in science and technology was achieved during this period, in which people were able to enjoy unprecedented improvements in material conditions of their lives. As a consequence, ‘progress’ was inclined to imply material improvement.

The modern notion of ‘progress’ was gradually formed: science is the engine that will boost the manufacture of living products and improve living conditions. In modern societies, progress becomes a common slogan referred to by politicians, scientists, and developers, when they wish to demonstrate or speak of achievements. Citizens may also measure their lives and their success against the benchmark of progress.

Around the similar period, about the late nineteenth century to the twentieth century, China experienced colonisation and the collapse of federation, and a series of national crises promoted fundamental ideological changes. The modern concept of progress is established therewith. During the transformation, many representative works were written, including Yan Fu’s Tian Yan Lun; Liang Qichao’s The New Citizen: On Progress; Sun Yat-sen’s About Doing Is Easy and Comprehending Is Difficult and Pan Guangdan’s About the Legimacy of Family Name, Marriage and Family. 16 Bury summarises that in modern society, progress is not only an idea, but also an omnipresent faith—‘the animating and controlling idea’. 17

1.1.2 Modern Conceptions of Progress

Progress is a modern concept linked to the enlightenment and the emergence of scientific ways of thinking. An increasing awareness of the shortcomings of

progress and associated ecological crisis led to concerns of progress by activists in the post-war period. Today, it would better fit into the circumstance to interpret ‘progress’ from a more comprehensive way, including the aspects of science, economy, technology, politics, culture, society, environment, etc. It would be edifying, if this more comprehensive notion of progress could become a part of culture, especially in the area of architecture.

Although sustainability has been focused in architecture for long, the progress of architecture is still largely relied on material changes and physical improvement. The exploration for its improvement in the sense of culture and spiritual meaning is still insufficient. For example, in some rapidly developing countries, such as modern China, for decades, people seem never tired of pursuing architectural novelty, magnificence, luxury, and hedonism. Some salutary lessons from pre- modern vernacular architecture may be ignored or forgotten on the way of pursuing progress.

Progress has relatively clear definitions in the domains of science and technology. ‘There exist clear standards or normative criteria for identifying improvements and advances in science.’ 18 However, even in the domain of science and technology, a discussion of ‘what is progress’ is thought to be necessary, and there are different interpretations from writers such as Thomas Kuhn and Karl Popper. 19 Human culture is not only the cradle of scientific and technological achievement, but also the beacon guiding scientific progress into the future. The philosophy and idea of progress, however, should not be described and explained in natural science terms. 20 Science and technology may tell us what we can do, but cannot tell us what we ought to do. 21 “The values or aims that can be used as the constitutive criteria for ‘good science’” and ‘good technology’ are essential. 22

The notion of progress is not stationary. Its values, aims, and scope vary according to the culture and politics of the times. Every era has its corresponding notion of progress and this notion formed an important part of the era’s culture. In turn the notion of progress influenced the direction of this era’s development. Regarding the megatrends of pursuing low-carbon living and sustainability, we may need to rethink the concept of progress in our times, especially for architecture.

1.1 Progress and Sustainability

From the original meaning of the word, the concept of sustainability contains the meaning of enduring: being maintained and long-lasting. The word ‘sustain’ derives from Middle English and came from the Old French—‘sustenir’, which means ‘to hold up, endure or to support’. Long before these two versions of the word ‘sustinēre’ which is of the same meaning, existed in Latin. Although the word ‘sustainability’ was included in the Oxford English Dictionary in the twentieth century, for centuries, other Western countries have used equivalent terms, including ‘Durabilité’ in French, ‘Nachhaltigkeit’ in German, and ‘duurzaamheid’ in Dutch. 23 All of these words contained the meanings of enduring and lasting a long time. The term ‘sustainability’ was imported into pre-modern Chinese in the late twentieth century. Its Chinese translation is based on the word chixu ‘持续’ in pre- modern Chinese, which means endure, last and maintain.24

There are three major dimensions of sustainability: environment, economy and society. The history of the concept of sustainability shows the degree of emphasis on changes in these three dimensions. The first two dimensions were the first to receive attention, and the last dimension formed a new trend, but issues of social sustainability have been less well addressed.

Resource conservation and environmental protection are emphasised in the contemporary concept of sustainability. This history traces to the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Notably, Thomas Robert Malthus examined the relationship between the human population and scarcity. He proposed the need to constrain population growth. This idea formed the roots of the modern concept of ‘sustainability’. Malthus feared that at prevalent population growth rates, the planet would end up in a disastrous situation.25 Around the same time that evolutionary theories gained scientific interest, Ellen Swallow Richards introduced ideas regarding ecology. A new discipline started between the end of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth century. Rachel Carson noted that the broad use of DDT killed a large number of birds. Starting with this observation, she published Silent Spring in the mid-twentieth century. This book brought environmental concerns to the public. Carson noted, ‘Our heedless and destructive acts enter into

the vast cycles of the earth and in time return to bring hazard to ourselves’. When issues such as climate change and environmental degradation attracted growing attention, a think tank known as The Club of Rome was established, consisting of scientists, economists, business leaders, high-level politicians and civil servants. The Club of Rome analysed the limitations of our planet and expressed concerns about the future. These works contributed to an environmental movement in the 1960s and 1970s. In the 1970s, the contemporary concept of sustainability formed, and in 1987, the Brundtland Commission offered an explicit definition of sustainability in its report, Our Common Future.26

In the 1990s, the concept of sustainability emerged from its activist beginnings to become part of the mainstream. One powerful vehicle for this was the influential conferences organised by the United Nations. In 1992, the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED, also known as Earth Summit) was held in Rio. Agenda 21 was the achievement of this conference. Chapter 7, “Promoting Sustainable Human Settlement Development”, makes specific reference to the built environment and architecture. Within this chapter, the construction sector is critiqued. Although this sector plays a vital role in socioeconomic development, it is a major source of environmental damage.27

In the twenty-first century, the influence of sustainability has become increasingly broad, and different industries have begun to measure their impact on the environment through various codes and institutional practices. Such initiatives were promoted by the 2002 Johannesburg World Summit on Sustainable Development, which led to many subsequent innovations. Specific recommendations that were outcomes of this conference have had large impacts on the architecture profession. These include the development of energy efficiency codes, constraining material use and encouraging technological innovation. For example, the European Union issued the Energy Performance of Building Directive (EPBD) and the United Kingdom published BREEAM. In Australia, the Green Star system was developed. In Japan, the CASBEE system was proposed, and LEED was introduced in the United States. Many influential architectural firms or institutes also began to publish their own assessment tools to evaluate buildings’ energy performance.

In architecture, early approaches to sustainability largely relied on the technical performance of buildings, such as resource and energy efficiency. Social and cultural dimensions were lower priorities. In the late twentieth century, definitions of sustainability in architecture appeared in the academic literature. For example, one decade after the United Nations defined sustainable development, Yasuyoshi Miyatake offered a definition of sustainability in architecture:

Minimization of resource consumption, maximization of resources reuse, use of renewable and recyclable resources, protection of the natural environment, create a healthy and non-toxic environment, and pursue quality in creating the built environment.28 Cole and Larsson summarised three characteristics to describe sustainability in architecture: ‘Reduction in resource consumption (energy, land, water, materials), environmental loadings (airborne emissions, solid waste, liquid waste) and improvement in indoor environmental quality (air, thermal, visual and acoustic quality)’. 29

In the early twenty-first century, the concept of sustainability still focused on saving energy and the use of materials and technology, but there was a trend towards broadening the vision of sustainability. However, issues surrounding social sustainability have been less well addressed. An influential architect, Richard George Rogers, was a laureate of the RIBA Gold Medal and received the Pritzker Prize and the RIBA Stirling Prize. He devoted much of his energy to sustainability. When he delivered the BBC’s Reith Lectures as the first speaker who was an architect, he focused on sustainability and titled his talks ‘Sustainable City’. Roger explains sustainability by defining its aim: ‘to meet present needs without compromising the stock of natural resources remaining for future generations’. More specifically, Rogers emphasises that ‘true sustainability, in terms of building design, is dependent on maximum energy efficiency coupled with the use of replenishable materials’. 30 Another leading architect, Jan Kaplický, suggests that the major aspects of sustainability in architecture are ‘choice of materials and the performance of a building once it is built’. 31 Thomas Herzog was the winner of the Global Award for Sustainable Architecture and established Herzog and Partner. For Herzog and Partner, sustainability is about ‘using renewable forms of energy—

especially solar energy—as extensively as possible’.32 The architect Ken Yeang, who is also an ecologist and author, was designated as ‘one of the fifty people who could save the planet’.33 Yeang interprets this concept as ‘design that integrates seamlessly with the ecological systems in the biosphere over the entire life cycle of the built system. Building materials and energy are integrated, with minimal impact on the environment from source to sink’.34 The Building Services Research and Information Association (BSRIA) defines sustainable construction as the ‘creation and management of healthy buildings based upon resource efficient and ecological principles’. 35 Kibert added responsible management to the BSRIA’s definition.36

Through broadened perspectives on the concept of sustainability proposed in more recent years in the field of architecture, an increasing focus on humanity’s concerns has formed a new trend towards social sustainability. For example, Foster and Partners noted the importance of humans’ well-being. When they define sustainability, not only was ‘energy efficiency’ emphasised, but the creation of buildings that are ‘healthy, comfortable, flexible in use and designed for long life’ were also underscored. 37 Following this change in perspective, a sociocultural dimension was proposed in architectural studies in the academic literature.

In Understanding Sustainable Architecture, Helen Bennetts, Antony Fadford, and Terry Williamson noted, “taken literally, the term ‘sustainable architecture’ focuses on the sustainability of architecture, both as a discipline and a product of the discipline”. They summarised that “‘sustainable architecture’ includes questions of a building’s suitability for its sociocultural as well as its environmental context”. 38 Stephen R. Kellert, Judith Heerwagen, and Martin Mador echoed this thought and provided more detailed aspirations for buildings, arguing that sustainability in architecture is ‘as much about keeping buildings in existence as it is about constructing new, low-impact, efficient designs. Without positive benefits and their associated attachment to buildings and places, people rarely exercise responsibility or stewardship to keep them in existence in the long run’. 39 In architecture, concepts of economic and environmental sustainability have been developed and pursued more strongly than those of social sustainability. The short narrative presented above shows how concepts of social sustainability have

emerged as increasing concerns for today’s architects. Nevertheless, there is a bias in architectural codes and sustainability accreditation systems towards the measurement of economic and environmental sustainability. This is important because the social concept of intergenerational equity is perhaps the most concise and powerful definition of sustainability. In relation to architecture, the concept of intergeneration equity relates material constructs to time and tradition.

Through reviewing the brief history of the concept of sustainability, we see a trend. In an increasingly broadened vision, humanities’ concerns draw more attention. Simon Guy summarises that the contemporary concept of sustainability ‘end up with a set of paradoxes’. 40 It seems a central focus, but it is also distracting. It is as a new opportunity and a barrier to new architectural forms. Let us go back to the generally recognised definition by the United Nations.

This concept was articulated by the Brundtland Commission through the United Nations, and its report, Our Common Future, attracted attention around the world. The definition of sustainable development by the Brundtland Commission is ‘Development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.’ 41 However, in its modern interpretation, progress is antithetical to sustainability until progress becomes a measure of intellectual and spiritual development rather than material growth.

One may recognise that the idea of ‘progress’ is not absolutely clear in this widely accepted definition of sustainability. For example, one question is whether ‘sustainability’ is achievable if ‘the needs’ in the definition are growing. As elucidated by Raymond Duncan Gastil, ‘progress’ is always needed, regardless of nation or historical period, because we need hope: ‘We need to believe in a chance for something beyond, for positive change, for escape through time to a better life— after work, tomorrow, next year’. 42

More tangibly, economic growth is often used to define the degree of progress in today’s society but there is an inevitable contradiction in this logic. As indicated by David Suzuki, when politicians or corporate CEOs are asked how they did last year, they will refer to the rise or fall of the GDP. Government, media and much of the public are preoccupied with this measurement of progress. However, it leads to

problems in practice. For example, the construction industry would invariably be evaluated by its contribution to annual GDP growth. Reusing building materials which would be a positive move for pursuing sustainability, would fail to contribute to GDP. On the other hand, to fabricate and consume virgin materials would boost GDP. 43 Where architecture is concerned, the profession should defend its own values and establish an idea of progress that simultaneously serves sustainability.

1.2 Progress and Architecture

The inherent contradiction with the conventional concept of progress is that both resources and energy are limited and that progress, rather than advancing culture, is likely to jeopardise it. The linear development model involves significant levels of consumption of raw materials, both renewable and non-renewable. When considered in relation to sustainability, ‘progress’ and architecture require a reassessment. On the one hand, construction always consumes resources no matter how carefully and intelligently buildings are designed. The construction industry accounts for 45% of world energy consumption and produces much carbon dioxide for instance.44 On the other hand, as an important engine of GDP, urbanization is regarded as necessary for achieving prosperity. 45

In the discourse on progress against the backdrop of sustainability, vernacular architecture may provide a different and momentous perspective. In the book, Vernacular Architecture in the 21st Century, Paul Oliver calls for more studies in vernacular architecture to focus on sustainability. Oliver praises the ‘time- honoured’ merit of vernacular architecture and highlights the substantial lessons lying within it that can contribute to a degree of sustainability in today’s architecture.46 Similar concern is also expressed under the title of “Meeting the Challenge of the Twenty-first Century” in the book, Built to Meet Needs: Cultural Issues in Vernacular Architecture.47

In the last thirty years, there has been a growing body of research that focuses on the sustainable character of vernacular architecture. 48 The organization PLEA (Passive and Low Energy Architecture) was launched in 1981 and at its first conference in September 1982, a small number of researchers focused on the energy saving feature of vernacular architecture, such as Fry and Drew and Kimura

and Yamazaki.49 In 1986, Hassan Fathy published Natural Energy and Vernacular Architecture and shed light on the principles applied by vernacular architecture in the hot, arid zones of the Arab area.50 The discourse was of little interest until the last half of the 1990s. In 1997, the Encyclopedia of Vernacular Architecture included one section titled Environment in Volume I.51 In 2015 the proceedings of “The International Conference on Vernacular Heritage, Sustainability and Earthen Architecture” were published as a book, entitled Vernacular Architecture: Towards a Sustainable Future.52 The majority of studies carried out were conducted from the perspective of environmental efficiency, involving the application of technology to improve thermal performance and save energy, using natural materials, recycling, and employing adaptive building techniques. 53 However, a study of vernacular architecture which discusses the concept of progress from a historical and cultural perspective and its contribution to low-carbon living and sustainability is lacking.

In 2013, from a perspective of social science, Courtyard Housing and Cultural Sustainability investigated the refurbished and newly designed Chinese courtyard housing projects built since the 1990s in contemporary China. The research summarises cultural criteria to evaluate these projects that are in harmony with heaven, with earth, with humans, and in harmony with self.54 Although the focus, approach and data of this book are different to this thesis, it can be seen that there are beneficial lessons from traditional Chinese culture that can contribute to today’s discourse on architectural sustainability.

Vernacular architecture is a more recent notion and tends to be a contested concept. Bernard Rudofsky’ Architecture without Architect drew a broad attention to this category of architecture. According to Rudofsky, vernacular architecture mainly refers to dwellings and settlements largely built by the inhabitants themselves. 55 Paul Oliver echoed this point, and highlighted the profound association between vernacular architecture and the local tradition and culture.56

This thesis aims to rethink the modern ideology of progress in architecture through an examination of selected cases from both pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture and modern architecture from locations around the world. The

handling and significance of key architectural elements, rituals and traditions are examined within the select cases to gain an understanding of the different approaches to progress.

1.2.1 Pre-modern Chinese Vernacular Architecture

In contemporary society, where the transience of architectural styles and the quest for novelty dominate, we may ask ‘how can we enjoy architecture that endures from generation to generation?’ How can questions of sustainability integrate more holistic notions of innovation in place of the current emphasis on physical change? Pre-modern vernacular architecture provides various insights in relation to such questions. These are examined throughout the thesis but introduced here through two lines of inquiry. Firstly, compared with today’s China, pre-modern Chinese architecture shows much less material innovation or physical change throughout its long history with durable forms. An example is the pre-modern Chinese courtyard, siheyuan. Secondly, accompanying this pattern of continuity in architectural forms is a long enduring civilization. This unbroken tradition stands out among the earliest civilizations in the world. In practice, the slowly updated physical form of pre-modern Chinese architecture did not impede progress in Chinese civilization.

The long enduring form of pre-modern Chinese architecture has been acknowledged by many scholars. At the beginning of A History of Chinese Architecture, Pan Guxi concluded that the long life of pre-modern Chinese architecture has both temporal and spatial dimensions. The Chinese courtyard as the dominant form of architecture has persisted for around three thousand years since the Western Zhou dynasty. Moreover, the structure of the courtyard house has been fitted into nearly all types of buildings, from palaces, residential houses, temples, tombs and office buildings to educational institutes. 57 Liang Sicheng comments that the history of pre-modern Chinese architecture is as long as Chinese civilization. ‘From every source of information—literary, graphic, exemplary—there is strong evidence testifying to the fact that the Chinese have always enjoyed an indigenous system of construction that has retained its principal characteristics from prehistoric times to the present day’. 58

With a narrow definition of progress, one may easily conclude pre-modern Chinese architecture lacks progress. For example, early in the twentieth century Banister Fletcher suggested that Chinese architecture has been ‘stationary from the earliest times’ in his book, A History of Architecture on the Comparative Method.59 At the beginning of the book is a diagram The Tree of Architecture and Chinese architecture was located around the bottom without signs of growth. Half a century later, a revised version of The Tree of Architecture appeared in the 16th edition published in 1954. American modern architecture appeared at the top of the tree, but the status of Chinese architecture did not change. Fletcher believed that throughout China’s long history, ‘architecture appears to have been subject to little progress’. 60 This book was used as the standard textbook in the twentieth century and ‘laid the fruits of nineteenth-century architectural scholarship in conveniently potted form at the feet of the twentieth-century architecture student’. 61 Professor Lao Nu, as one of Liang Sicheng’s disciples, also says that ‘China had a grand, beautiful architectural tradition, but it’s dead. For centuries it reproduced itself and made little progress.’62

In contrast to the perspectives above, this thesis aims to broaden the concept of progress in architecture and argues that the potential stability of built forms and dynamism of the spirit of time are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Based on the history of pre-modern Chinese architecture, it is arguable that the evolution of architecture did not need to rely on physical changes or material innovations, but was based on continuously renewed intangible cultural heritage. Many studies have shown that there were rich meanings and cultural values attached to pre- modern Chinese vernacular architecture. For example, by viewing architecture as a fine art, Itō Chūta portrayed the fine aesthetic and artistic value of pre-modern Chinese architecture.63 Xing Ruan sheds light on the capacity of architecture to transmit meaning in a non-linguistic way. 64 Li Yunhe’s research not only analyses the advantages of the structural system and technology, but also highlights the meaningful decorations and ornaments in pre-modern Chinese architecture.65

In addition to reemphasising the richness of China’s intangible heritage, this study points out that its intended meaning could dynamically evolve with stable built forms. This form of architectural evolution should also be recognised as a type of

progress, and it is worthy of investigation. To emphasise this broadened concept of progress is especially of significance in the context that low-carbon living and sustainability are of unprecedented importance.

As noted earlier in this chapter, after the concept of progress became narrower and conventional in the twentieth century, modern China’s ‘progress’ was much more reliant on physical updating than in pre-modern times. Behind the tremendous growth of the construction industry in contemporary China, there have been crises which need to be investigated. ‘What did the rapid updating of architectural fashion bring to us?’ It is partly the boost to GDP, since consuming resources and energy is inevitable in constructing a new building. However, what paralleled the rapid pace of urbanisation and the prosperity of the real estate industry in China was the deteriorating environment. According to National State of Environment Reporting, 2014 by the Ministry of Environmental Protection of the People’s Republic of China, air pollution has reached an alarming level. The air quality of 161 cities is examined in the report, and only 9 reach national air quality standards.66 The pass rate is barely 5.6%.67 As reported by ABC news in Australia in November 2015, air pollution in north-eastern China is almost 50 times above the World Health Organisation’s recommended level.68

1.2.2 Twentieth-Century Architecture by Influential Architects

Modern architecture in the twentieth century will form the second focus sample within this thesis. After half a century’s observation and research, Kenneth Frampton summarises the idea that progress is dominant in modern architecture. He notes that ‘Politics, economics, and culture are all united under the banner of progress.’69

Despite prominent authors such as Frampton discussing progress and emphasising its importance there has been no formal definition of progress in modern architecture. However, the idea of progress has been interpreted in four ways by modern architects, social, aesthetic or cultural, historical and finally technological theorists:

First, progress is seen as social; a harmonious and more advanced scenario that benefits everyone. Frampton reveals several manifestations in this definition. ‘Progress is seen as harmonious and continuous, as though it developed to the advantage of everyone and without any significant interruptions.’70

Second, the idea of progress is manifested through the attempt to capture a new ‘cultural’ spirit in architecture, which is predominantly aesthetic but also aims to integrate diverse ambitions under a singular form of expression or style. The call for a new architecture of the new era has resulted in strong momentum towards defining a new era. History was seen as an evolution. New forms were expected to reflect this new spirit, which was partly political, partly economic and partly cultural. Influential architects contributed to the development of this definition of progress, including Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, Antonio Sant’Elia and Adolf Loos. 71 For example, Le Corbusier stated ‘a great epoch has begun. There exists a new spirit. There exists a mass of work conceived in the new spirit; …Our own epoch is determining, day by day, its own style’.72 These high-profile statements continue to wield considerable influence.

This idea of progress as capturing a new spirit of the times is strong and has been observed and analysed by various architectural scholars. Adolf Loos emphasised ‘every epoch had its style’. He advised ‘Do not weep. Do you not see the greatness of our age?’ 73 In the influential book, Space, Time and Architecture, Sigfried Giedion comments that one of the architect’s principal tasks is to search for a new way of life for our time.74

The third embodiment of the idea of progress in modern architecture is historical, specifically to distinguish the current era from the previous era. This tendency traces back to the eighteenth century. Joseph Rykwert suggests that this approach started with the trend of demystification, such as the demystification of the column. It was believed that all of man’s works could and should be reconstructed with reason. Breaking from convention was seen as an efficient approach to making progress and achieving freedom. 75 This belief continues and prevails in the twentieth century. Filippo Tommaso Marinetti admired new and powerful objects; he advocated destroying older forms of culture and rejecting the past.76 Antonio

Sant’Elia echoed Marinetti and claimed, ‘the art of construction has been able to evolve with time, and to pass from one style to another’.77 He noted, ‘in the course of history, changes of fashion are frequent’ and described admirable architecture as architecture that ‘cannot be subjected to any law of historical continuity. It must be new, just as our state of mind is new.’ 78 Marinetti and Sant’Elia Antonio proclaimed, ‘We must invent and rebuild the Futurist city.’ 79 Max Weber commented that breaking from previous times formed the core of modernity.80

Finally, the idea of progress in modern architecture emphasises technology. Progress is measured through the development of technology, which itself was seen as a major token of progress in the twentieth century. In 1972, Le Corbusier proposed his famous statement that architecture is a machine for living. 81 As one of the most influential institutes in the twentieth century, Bauhaus proposed a similar slogan. ‘Art and technology: a new unity’. 82 The first architectural periodical in New Zealand was named Progress. It defined three focal areas and the first two were technology-related. Specifically, they were identified as progress with mechanical, industrial and commercial work.83

Despite modern architects seldom providing a definition of ‘progress’ directly, their proposed theories reflected the considerable influence of this idea. CIAM demonstrate ‘It is urgently necessary for architecture [in] abandoning the outmoded conceptions connected with the class of craftsmen, henceforth to rely upon the present realities of industrial technology.’ 84 Other quotations also reflected the similar idea. ‘It isn’t all over; everything has not been invented; the human adventure is just beginning.’85 ‘You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete’.86

Theoretically, the concept of progress in modern architecture is complex, ambiguous and mostly uncritical. There is very little literature that provides a specific definition or understanding of progress in the discipline of architecture, despite its central importance to twentieth century architecture. In the second half of the twentieth century and early twenty-first century, some scholars were more critical of progress as environmental consciousness developed.87 Progress was

vividly described as a mixed blessing. During this period, a new subject— ecology—emerged. The limitation of growth was increasingly acknowledged. Low- carbon living and sustainability became a challenge for modern architecture.88

Sustainability, durability and liveability can serve as important concepts used to critique the concept of progress in architecture. Certain scholars implemented this approach. For example, Martin Heidegger noted that the meaning of ‘to dwell’ refers to the essentials of building. He further noted different ways of defining progress, for example by measuring the development of technology or material growth that will lead to a spiritual sense of homelessness. Consequently, the meaning of dwelling will be lost.89 Pérez Gómez echoed with a similar concern.90

Even the more zealous modernist architects, such as Le Corbusier, integrated traditional approaches and elements into their architecture. There are many modern cases of architecture that have drawn inspiration from pre-modern vernacular examples. Around the end of the twentieth century, Alexander Tzonis, Lianne Lefaivre, and Anthony Alfonsin theorised the idea of a regional architecture. 91 Kenneth Frampton discussed regionalism in architecture and further promoted the idea of critical regionalism. 92 Wary of the dangers of universalization, regionally based architecture was developed combining principles from both modern global and local traditional architectures. To guard against the universal and generic application of modernism to local situations many modernist architects drew inspiration from a variety of vernacular idioms and styles. Architects who were inspired by vernacular architecture include Geoffrey Bawa, Hassan Fathy, Luis Barragán, Jørn Utzon, Alvar Aalto, André Ravereau, Charles Correa, B.V. Doshi, Aris Konstantinidis, Laurie Baker, Christopher Alexander, Wu Liangyong, Qi Kang, Wang Shu, and Kengo Kuma.

Three sections of modern architecture were involved in this research. Each of them has a conspicuous feature that echoes each of the five findings of the research in the evolution of pre-modern vernacular architecture. Le Corbusier’s practices of promenade architecturale reflected how architecture evolved from architectural precedents and was developed by the architect.93 Li Xiaodong’s collective method of design and construction fascinated researchers and earned him praise. 94

Hassan Fathy is an architect with a deep respect for and interest in the past who wanted to revive the vernacular tradition in Egypt. 95 The case studies reveal the challenges faced by these influential architects when they learned from vernacular architecture. Although their works shared some merits with those of the vernacular, they also reflected the conundrum confronted by the architects—that is, the enthusiasm for vernacular and the past, and their equal dedication to modernist ideals and progress. To address this conundrum, it may be instructive to broaden the concepts of progress and sustainability. The case studies involved in this thesis are: Le Corbusier’s praxis of promenade architecturale and the cultural meaning behind it; Li Xiaodong’s collectiveness; Hassan Fathy’s association with the past and future.

To reflect the elaboration of the two sets of investigations, two tables (Table 1-1; Table 1-2) are designed as follows. They provide definitions, criteria and principles. Also they define both pre-modern vernacular architecture and 20th century modern architecture and establish the criteria for selection of the case studies from both categories (please also see Appendix A: A Matrix of Investigated Architectural Examples).

Chapter 2 to Chapter 5 constitute the main body of this thesis. Each of these chapters has two sections: the first section presents a vernacular approach, and the second section analyses a modern architect’s practice that is relevant to this approach. Therefore, this thesis investigates four vernacular approaches that demonstrate the change and progress achieved by relying on the static material nature of architecture without requiring the invention of novel forms. These four approaches consist of (a) relying on renewed cultural meanings in architecture to match an unchanged architectural form to different social classes and various eras; (b) maintaining the material stability of architecture through collective craft culture and an ethics of building; (c) using the past to imagine the future; and (d) relying on revigorated relationship with nature to make progress.

To better serve the theme of this thesis and to maintain consistency, Table 1-1 presents the criteria used to select examples for this research. The cases of pre- modern Chinese vernacular architecture should be 1) cases that can deepen

current approaches to sustainable architecture; 2) cases in which physical buildings or structures still exist and thus are accessible for fieldwork; 3) cases in which the focal aspects of culture are still alive and dynamic; and 4) cases that can be traced and analysed through the historical literature. Following the criteria above, multiple cases were selected. Then, a further investigation was conducted by searching through the historical literature, undertaking fieldwork and conducting theoretical analyses. Finally, four sections were formed to examine the four vernacular approaches mentioned above.

The cases of modern architecture should be 1) cases that demonstrate the merits of the vernacular approaches; 2) cases that can deepen the understanding of sustainable architecture; 3) cases that can examine the intangible dimensions of architecture; and 4) cases that review the idea of the social and community dimensions of architecture. Data were collected from diverse sources, including primary sources (original sketches and different types of writing by the architects studied, field notes, and sketches and photos from site visits to the original works) and secondary sources (relevant literature and architectural drawings). These sources provide a detailed review of the architects studied and their works. These architects have noted that vernacular architecture contains modern values, and they have consciously or unconsciously adopted the discussed vernacular approaches. Even though these works have garnered wide recognition, they also have revealed a conundrum—that is, the enthusiasm of these architects for vernacular architecture and the past, as well as their obligation to modernist ideals and progress.

The juxtaposition of the two sets of cases is not meant as a contrast-orientated comparison that aims to determine whether vernacular architecture or modern architecture is more sustainable. It is not the argument of this thesis either. Instead, this thesis aims to convey the following message: at a time when low-carbon living and sustainability are the primary concerns, one may want to understand progress in architecture in a broad and more critical sense. The constant pursuit of novel forms, structures and technology may result in architectural ‘progress’ in a straightforward way, but such an approach requires considerable resources and energy. Indeed, many architects have noted this challenge in architecture and have

even attempted to integrate some vernacular approaches or elements into their design works. However, their learning from the vernacular is comparatively spontaneous and has sporadic foci. Arguably, one may better learn the salutary lesson from vernacular architecture when a panorama of historical rethinking is understood. This thesis suggests the need for more nonmaterial humane pursuits that are embedded in architecture.

Table 1-1

Table 1-2

1.2.3 The Structure of the Thesis

The key points of this thesis are summarised as follows. First, although our living condition has been considerably improved by modern architecture, it is noteworthy that the cost of these supposed betterment of the human condition (‘progress’) is constant material change (creating the ever new), which requires the ongoing and unsustainable consumption of resources. Second, pre-modern vernacular architecture may have something significant to let us see the unsustainability of modern architecture or tell us what the internal complexity and contradiction for pursuing sustainability in modern societies. Unsustainability in architecture is not only about the individual building being energy inefficient, but is also a modern way of being and consuming in general. Third, there are certain vernacular approaches that appeared to contribute to a better life in a way that consumed very few resources, for example, symbolised architectural element may provide more meaningful living environment through the inhabitants’ interaction with their house. This can be seen in the case study in Section 2.1. For another example as investigated in Section 3.1, the conventional construction rituals in pre-modern community were an intimate engagement between the house owner, neighbours, craftsmen and local priests. It was not only about a building, but was also about the cohesion of the community. Finally, this thesis suggests that it is perhaps very difficult, if not impossible to achieve sustainability by borrowing superficially from

pre-modern vernacular architecture; and equally it is probably impossible to borrow non-superficially (ie borrow every aspect of pre-modern vernacular architecture including the way of being that belongs with it) as this would have little chance of being sustained in the midst of a modern world. However, what may be feasible is the minor and gradual adjustment. We cannot transform the way of being in one or two days, but it would be possible to value more non-material progress in architecture. At the end of each chapter and this thesis, the detailed aspects of non-material progress of architecture will be proposed.

Following Chapter 1, Introduction, the main body of the thesis (Chapters 2 to 5) is a series of juxtapositions of pre-modern and modern case studies. Specifically, for the pre-modern cases, this thesis follows a sequence of ‘what the evolution of pre- modern Chinese architecture was’ (Section 2.1); ‘how this evolution was sustained’ (Section 3.1); and ‘why this evolution occurred in pre-modern China’ (Sections 4.1 and 5.1). Based on the findings of the pre-modern part of each chapter, the thesis further examines the corresponding modern cases: it starts with the question of what the evolution of modern architecture is within an architect’s design (Section 2.2), and then what challenges or achievements the modern architects had in their collective practice (Sections 3.2), concerns of the past (Section 4.2) and the attachment to natural landscape (Section 5.2).

Chapter 2 investigates the evolution of pre-modern Chinese architecture by revealing the evolving history of a specific architectural element. This architectural element is the zhaobi, which is a freestanding wall built at the entrance to traditional Chinese courtyards. The evolving history of the zhaobi is clear and can be traced to the beginning of the use of the Chinese courtyard between 1046–771 BCE. The research finds that the changing meaning of this architectural element was not directly embodied through its physical expression, but was more accomplished by non-material forces, such as rituals, laws, conventions, stories, poetry and designations.

The second half of Chapter 2 examines the evolution of architecture during modern times, with Corbusier as a case study. The research selects Corbusier’s praxis of promenade architecturale which is inspired by vernacular architecture. In contrast,

Corbusier’s own architectural praxis was replete with physical change. The research suggests that visible innovation embodied by physical change was often regarded as a necessity in the architect’s praxis. It is noted that Corbusier’s final success of promenade architecturale involved continuing an unchanged architectural form learned from architectural precedents while endowing it with new meaning.

Chapter 3 explores how intangible culture was implanted as a part of architecture and how this restricted the physical changes of architectural form. The research highlights that collective design and construction was an important organisational vehicle in pre-modern China. Generally, a recognisable culture within a community could be implanted in physical buildings via cooperative participation and the meanings of that architecture became legible and profound for the participants. As the process was constituted by a series of conventional rituals, a degree of balanced power between participants could be guaranteed. With collective design and construction, individual impulses to create new things would be subordinated to the ethic of building. Rituals during the design-construction process served to maintain cooperation and to strengthen interpersonal ties. In this way, the culture of a community became attached to the architecture. The building process acted as a magnet, rallying different people together to refresh their collective memory and express it as a new building.

Modern architectural design was usually an independent process dominated by individual architects. There were a few architects who seemingly practiced in a collective fashion and the second section of this chapter investigates such an architect. His collaborative practice against the prevailing trend is admirable and received compliments, but the study suggests that the architect was unable to escape completely from the modern ideology of progress in architecture. The seemingly collective design-construction process was, more or less, transformed as an architect’s vehicle to ensure that individual designs could be realised.

After gaining insight into the nature of the evolution of pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture and how this pattern was sustained, Chapter 4 and 5 propose that there were two fundamental reasons behind this pre-modern Chinese

architectural progress. Chapter 4 emphasises ancestor veneration which connected the future with the past. Chapter 5 highlights animism which respected nature as the ideal paradigm for the built world. They formed cultural traditions that sustained the continued evolution of pre-modern vernacular architecture. Through these traditions, pre-modern vernacular architecture was frequently grounded in the past as well as in nature, although obliquely. The connection to the past and nature is investigated in Chpater 4 and 5.

Chapter 4 explores the influence of ancestor veneration upon pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture and indicates that there were two ways of minimizing the need to update physical buildings. On the one hand, underpinned by the belief of ancestor worship, people’s imagination, including surrealistic illusion, would be relayed to ancestors and judged by them. Whether these wishes could come true would be largely decided by whether the realization of the descendants could be recognised by ancestors and gain their blessing. A type of special mingqi or miniature architectural model was the vehicle for these messages. These models were always placed into ancestors’ tombs as sacrificial objects, and their architectural expression was not restricted. On the other hand, buildings in real life did not have much freedom.

Through studying the case of modern architecture, the second half of Chapter 4 points out that criticism is the usual way of making progress for modern architects as in the case of the design of New Gourna. Yet, building up the future based on existing circumstances, and connecting the present with the past needs more attention. Architects seem more willing to imagine the future through introducing something new rather than anchoring themselves to bygone times, but if the project was designed for a traditional community, the design was likely to be illegible for inhabitants and possibly unacceptable for them. Although the New Gourna project was regarded as a failure by the architect, the study suggests that it succeeded in reinforcing the connection between the past and the future of the community.

Chapter 5 suggests that the influence of animism echoes the effect of ancestor veneration, and a threefold layer of influence will be highlighted in this chapter. The first layer is the idea of associating a remote past with architecture. Chinese

cosmology depicted the origin of the universe as a process of house building. It provided an ideal model to legitimate the timber-frame construction of pre-modern Chinese architecture and its building processes. The idea implied that before humans erected buildings, people had been sheltered between the canopy of the sky and the earth, so architecture means significantly more than providing shelters for pre-modern Chinese society. The second layer reveals how the Chinese courtyard house was used to accommodate the ideal relationship between sky/heaven, earth and inhabitants. The third layer analyses the role that the natural environment played in the town building process, and argues that rather than ‘landscape’ which was mainly pleasing to the eye, natural elements were venerated as the guidance for zoning, axis fixing, material choosing and house building.

The second section of Chapter 5 suggests that in modern architecture, progress could also be fulfilled by renewed relationship with nature. Natural elements, such as sunlight, flowing water and vegetation, seem ordinary to everyone, but they could also create spiritual effects when involved in buildings in an artistic way. The spiritual pleasure brought by engagement with natural elements could more or less substitute a pursuit of material comfort.

The conclusion (Chapter 6) will synthesize the key points of this research and present its contribution as well as suggesting the direction of future study. After reviewing and analysing the special evolution of pre-modern vernacular architecture through the Chinese case studies, the thesis stresses that in architecture, ‘progress’ does not necessarily have to be associated with material changes. Ideally, it should be underscored in the architectural discipline that ‘progress’ is a concept much deeper than improvement based on physical changes. The capacity to sustain a current state or to renew past states is also a type of progress. The evolution of non-material culture attached to architecture can be a substitute for updating physical form. This extended connotation of progress for the architectural discipline can be of significance today when low-carbon living and sustainability is a priority. In order to propagate this extended conception of progress in architecture, a feasible strategy is required, involving a careful integration of selected principles learnt from vernacular architecture. The research

argues that collectiveness, history and affinity with nature are the central elements for achieving the broad concept of progress for a more sustainable architecture.

Notes to Chapter 1

1 Sim, Low Kwai and Balamurugan, G., “Urbanization and Urban Water Problems in Southeast Asia: A Case of Unsustainable Development,” Journal of Environmental Management 32, no. 3 (1991); Van den Berg, Agnes E., Hartig, Terry, and Staats, Henk, “Preference for Nature in Urbanized Societies: Stress, Restoration, and the Pursuit of Sustainability,” Journal of Social Issues 63, no. 1 (2007); Angotti, Thomas, “Latin American Urbanization and Planning: Inequality and Unsustainability in North and South,” Latin American Perspectives 23, no. 4 (1996); Parnwell, Mike and Turner, Sarah, “Sustaining the Unsustainable? City and Society in Indonesia,” Third World Planning Review 20, no. 2 (1998). 2 Ciccone, Antonio and Hall, Robert E., “Productivity and the Density of Economic Activity,” American Economic Review 86, no. 1 (1996); Deuskar, Chandan, East Asia’s Changing Urban Landscape: Measuring a Decade of Spatial Growth (World Bank Publications, 2015); Glaeser, Edward and Joshi-Ghani, Abha, “Rethinking Cities: toward Shared Prosperity,” World Bank- Economic Premise, no. 126 (2013); Glaeser, Edward L. and Mare, David C., “Cities and Skills,” National Bureau of Economic Research 19, no. 2 (1994). 3 Deuskar, Chandan, East Asia’s Changing Urban Landscape: Measuring a Decade of Spatial Growth, 67; UN-Habitat, The State of Asian and Pacific Cities 2015: Urban Transformations Shifting from Quantity to Quality (UN-Habitat; UN ESCAP, 2015), 12. 4 The data of the annual urbanization rate from 1949 is from National Bureau of Statistics of the People’s Republic of China. The 2015 data is from the CCTV (China Central Television) news report, “China Urbanization Rate Reached 56% in 2015” broadcast on 30th Jan, 2016. 5 From 2015 Report from the National Bureau of Statistics of the People’s Republic of China, 19th Jan, 2016. 6 See the quotation from Johnson, Ian, “China Releases Plan to Incorporate Farmers into Cities,” New York Times (2014); also see the problem statement in Li, Feng et al., “Measurement Indicators and an Evaluation Approach for Assessing Urban Sustainable Development: A Case Study for China’s Jining City,” Landscape and Urban Planning 90, no. 3 (2009); also see the analyses presented by Bloom, David E., Canning, David, and Fink, Gunther Science (New York, N.Y.) 319, no. 5864 (2008). 7 Michael C. Lemon, Philosophy of History: A Guide for Students (Routledge, 2003), 22. 8 Lemon, Philosophy of History; John Bagnell Bury, The Idea of Progress: An Inquiry into its Origin and Growth (Courier Corporation, 1987). 9 The English translation is from Legge, James, Tao Te Ching (Legge), 16. The original text is “夫物芸芸，各复归其根。夫物芸芸，各复归其根。归根曰静，是曰复命。复命曰常，知常曰明。不知常，妄作，凶。知常容，容乃公” from Lao Zi, Tao Te Ching. 10 Hobsbawm, Eric J., Primitive Rebels: Studies in Archaic Forms of Social Movement in the 19th and 20th Centuries (Manchester University Press, 1971), 11. 11 Zhu, Xi 朱熹 and Long, Wenling 龙文玲, Zhu Zi yulei xuanzhu 朱子语类选注 (Guilin: Guangxi shifan daxue chubanshe, 1998). For example, “为学须先寻得一箇路逕，然后可以进步，可以观书, 不然则书自书、人自人” (to achieve ‘progress’, the learner should first find a suitable way of understanding. In this way, the learner could gain thorough comprehension while reading; otherwise the books and the reader were disconnected). For another example, “格物致知比治国平天下，其事似小，然打不透，则病痛却大，无进步处” (compared to the task of governing a country, gaining a thorough understanding of the finer points through methodical learning could seem trifling. A merely superficial understanding, however, can lead to serious problems and inhibit progress). Also see “昌父曰：‘某平生自觉气血弱，日用工夫多只拣易底事做。或尚论人物，亦只取其与己力量相近学者之，自觉难处进步不得也。’曰：‘便当这易处而益求其所谓难，因这近处而益求其所谓远，不可只守着个而不求进步。纵自家力量到那难处不得，然不可不勉慕而求之’” (Similarly in another context, Chang Fu 昌父, also known as Zhao Fan, thought that it would be impossible to make ‘progress’ if one lacked the capacity. So when Chang Fu met trouble, his solution was to deal with the easiest part and avoiding the challenge. Zhu Xi disagreed and insisted that regardless of difficulty, one should still seek to deepen one’s understanding). 12 “进步须于百尺竿，二边休立莫中安” Xiang, Ziying 向子諲, “Huanxisha 浣溪沙,” in Quan Song ci 全宋词 [The annotated corpus of the Song dynasty], ed. Guizhang Tang (Zhonghua shuju, 1965); “百尺竿头须进步，十方世界是全身” Shi, Daoyuan 释道原, Jingdechuandenglu 景德传灯录 [Transmission of the lamp] (The Song dynasty).

13 Around the late fourteenth century, the late Middle English word progresse was derived from the Old French progres (Modern French progrès). The meaning was ‘an action of wlking forward’. Ernest Klein, “Comprehensive Etymological Dictionary of the English Language,” 1966, 1250; Ernest Weekley, An Etymological Dictionary of Modern English 2 (Courier Corporation, 2012), 1153; Robert K. Barnhart, The Barnhart Dictionary of Etymology (HW Wilson Co, 1988). In pre- modern Chinese, the jingbu (progress) was first used to represent the actural movement. This can be traced to the 475–221 BCE or earlier. For example, in the dialogue between Jiang Taigong and Emperor Wu of the Zhou dynasty, (Taigong and Six Strategies), the word ‘progress’ was used to describe the march of the army. See Lü, Shang, Kong, Deqi and Nie, Songlai, Liutao 六韬, 1st ed., Da Zhonghua Wenku [Library of Chinese dassics] (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 2005). In the Han dynasty, the first comprehensive Chinese dictionary—Shuowen Jiezi 说文解字 (Explaining and Analysing Chinese Text and Characters)—was published. In this dictionary, ‘progress’ was explained as ‘进，登也’; ‘步，行也’ (to climb higher or walk forward). See Xu, Shen 许慎, Shuowen jiezi 说文解字 [Explaining and analysing Chinese text and characters] (Changsha: Yueji shushe, 2006 (first published around 100–121 CE)); Huxley, Thomas Henry and Yan, Fu 严复, Tianyan lun 天演论 [Evolution and ethics]. In the Tang dynasty, the word ‘progress’ appeared in bianwen 变文 and was also used to describe actual movement, such as to describe a dancer dance forward or an official step forward and started his talk. See “Zhang Yichao bianwen 张义潮变文 [Zhang Yichao transformation texts],” in Dunhuang bianwenji 敦煌变文集 [The collection of Dunhuang transformation texts], ed. Zhongmin Wang (Renmin wenxue chubanshe, 1957). A similar interpretation can be found in later literature and persisted to the Qing Dynasty, but this meaning is no longer used in modern Chinese. See Zhang, Yushu 张玉书, Chen, Tingjing 陈廷敬 and Li, Guangdi 李光地, Yuding peiwen yunfu 御定佩文韵府 [Rime storehouse of esteemed phrases], Qinding siku quanshu huiyao (Changchun: Jilin chuban jituan youxian zeren gongsi, 2005). 14 “Development towards an improved or more advanced condition” offered by Oxford Dictionary. Stevenson, Angus, Oxford Dictionary of English, 3rd ed. (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2010); “growth or development; continuous improvement” by Dictionary.com; “Satisfactory development, growth, or advance” from Collins. In Chinese, jinbu 进步 (progress) is defined by the authoritative dictionary of modern Chinese—Xinhua zidian 新华字典 (Xinhua dictionary) as “适合时代要求，对社会发展起促进作用的：～思想ㄧ～人士” (Boost the development of a society whilst accurately capturing the the spirit of the time) from Institute of Linguistics, 中国社会科学院语言研究所 [Chinese Academy of Social Sciences], Xīnhuá zìdiǎn 新华字典 [Xihua dictionary], 11th ed. In French, “progress” is explained as “Évolution régulière de l’humanité, de la civilisation vers un but ideal” (steady evolution of mankind, civilization toward an ideal goal; a step in the direction of improvement) from Dictionnaire de français Larousse; In Spanish, Progreso is defined as “progreso consiste en un desarrollo, una mejora o un avance.” (development, improvement and advancement) from Definición DE; Progreso means “crecimiento, mejoría” (Improvement, growth) from WordReference. 15 Carl Lotus Becker, The Heavenly City of the Eighteenth-century Philosophers (Yale University Press, 2003); Paul Hazard, “European Thought in the Eighteenth Century from Montesquieu to Lessing,” 1954. 16 Huxley, Thomas Henry and Yan, Fu 严复, eds., Tianyan lun 天演论 [Evolution and ethics], Yan Fu ji 严复集 [The collection of Yan Fu] 5 (Zhonghua shuju, 1986); Liang, Qichao 梁启超, Xinmin shuo: lun jinbu 新民说·论进步 [The new citizen: on progress] (Shanghai: Zhonghua shuju, 1989), Yinbingshi heji 饮冰室合集 [The collection of Yinbingshi]; Pan, Guangdan 潘光旦, Xing, hunyin, jiating de cunfei wenti 姓，婚姻，家庭的存废问题 [About the legitimacy of family name, marriage and family] (Shanghai xinyue shudian, 1932), Zhongguo wenti 中国问题 [Chinese Issues]; Cai, Yuanpei 蔡元培, Xuetang jiaoke lun 学堂教科论 [On education], ed. Gao Pingshu 高平叔 (Zhonghua shuju, 1984); Cai Yuanpei quanji 蔡元培全集 [The collection of Cai Yuanpei]; Sun, Yat- sen 孙中山, Xingyi zhinan lun 行易知难论 [About doing is easy and comprehending is difficult] (Liaoning renmin chubanshe, 1994), Jianguo fanglv 建国方略 [The international development of China]. 17 Bury, John Bagnell, The Idea of Progress: An Inquiry into its Origin and Growth (Courier Corporation, 1987). 18 Niiniluoto, Ilkka, “Scientific Progress,” in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Edward N. Zalta (2015).

19 See Kuhn, Thomas S., The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (University of Chicago Press, 2012); Popper, Karl Raimund, “Objective Kowledge: An Evolutionary Approach,” (1972); Fuller, Steve, Kuhn vs. Popper: The Struggle for the Soul of Science (Columbia University Press, 2004). 20 Urwick, Edward Johns, A Philosophy of Social Progress (Methuen & Company, Limited, 1912). 21 Park, Robert Ezra, Burgess, Ernest Watson and Janowitz, Morris, Introduction to the Science of Sociology (Greenwood Press, 1969). 22 The quotation is cited from Niiniluoto, Ilkka, “Scientific Progress”. 23 Du Pisani, Jacobus A, “Sustainable development–historical roots of the concept,” Environmental Sciences 3, no. 2 (2006); Van Zon, H. and Kuipers, K., “Geschiedenis en Duurzame Ontwikkeling. Duurzame ontwikkeling in historisch perspectief: enkele verkenningen,” Vakreview duurzame ontwikkeling. Netwerk Duurzaam Hoger Onderwijs, UCM/KUN (2002). 24 The use of the word chixu ‘持续’ can be traced in a book published in the Ming dynasty, Bencaogangmu 本草纲目[Compendium of Materia Medica], in which this word was frequently used. Li Shizhen 李时珍, Bencaogangmu 本草纲目 [Compendium of Materia Medica] (Shangwu yinshu guan, 1930). 25 See Malthus, Thomas Robert, An essay on the principle of population 1 (Cosimo, Inc, 2013). 26 The definition of “sustainable development” is “Development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.” WCED, U. N., “Our Common Future,” World Commission on Environment and Development Oxford University Press (1987). 27 United Nations Conference on Environment & Development, Agenda 21 (Rio de Janerior, 1992). 28 Miyatake, Yasuyoshi, “Technology Development and Sustainable Construction,” Journal of Management in Engineering 12, no. 4 (1996). 29 Cole, Raymond J. and Larsson, Nils K., “GBC '98 and GBTool: Background,” Building Research & Information 27, 4-5 (2010). 30 Edwards, Brian, Green Architecture, Architectural design profile, 0003-8504 v. 71, no. 4 (London: Wiley-Academy, 2001). 31 Ibid. 32 Crysler, C. Greig, Cairns, Stephen and Heynen, Hilde, eds., The SAGE Handbook of Architectural Theory (Sage, 2012). 33 Vidal, John et al., “50 People Who Could Save the Planet,” The Gardian, January 5, 2008. 34 Sykes, A. K. and Hays, K. M., Constructing a New Agenda: Architectural Theory 1993-2009 (Princeton Architectural Press, 2012). 35 Edwards, Brian, Rough Guide to Sustainability (London: RIBA Enterprises Ltd., 2005). 36 Kibert, Charles J., Sustainable construction: Green Building Design and Delivery (John Wiley & Sons, 2016). 37 Clements-Croome, D., Intelligent Buildings: Design, Management and Operation (Thomas Telford, 2004). 38 Bennetts, Helen, Radford, Antony and Williamson, Terry, Understanding Sustainable Architecture (Taylor & Francis, 2003), 4. 39 Kellert, Stephen R., Heerwagen, Judith and Mador, Martin, Biophilic Design: The Theory, Science and Practice of Bringing Buildings to Life (John Wiley & Sons, 2011), 5. 40 Simon Guy, “Introduction: Whither ‘Earthly’ Architectures: Constructing Sustainability,” in The SAGE Handbook of Architectural Theory, ed. C. G. Crysler, Stephen Cairns and Hilde Heynen (Sage, 2012). 41 WCED, U. N., “Our Common Future,” World Commission on Environment and Development Oxford University Press (1987). 42 Gastil, Raymond D., Progress: Critical Thinking about Historical Change (Praeger Westport, 1993), 1. 43 See Suzuki, David, “Measuring Progress with GDP is a Gross Mistake,” David Suzuki Foundation (2014). 44 “Buildings consume 45% of world’s energy use, including 80% of potable water use, and 50% of the timber harvest in North America. They also account for about 40% of municipal solid waste and 30% of U.S. greenhouse gas emissions that contribute to global warming and acid rain” from Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development, “Environmentally Sustainable Buildings: Challenges and Policies,” OECD Observer, July (2003); According to U.S. Green Building Council and Annual Energy Outlook by Environmental Information Administration, buildings consume 38.9% of U.S. primary energy; According to Roodman, David Malin, Lenssen, Nicholas K. and Peterson, Jane A., A Building Revolution: How Ecology and Health Concerns Are 33

Transforming Construction (Worldwatch Institute Washington, DC, 1995), “Buildings use about 40% of global energy, 25% of global water, 40% of global resources, and they emit approximately 1/3 of GHG emissions.”; Quoted from report of United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), “Buildings account for 32% of the worldwide resources, 12% of fresh water and 40% of the world’s energy”; Steemers, K., Yannas, S. and International PLEA Organisation, Architecture, City, Environment: Proceedings of PLEA 2000: July 2000, Cambridge, United Kingdom (James & James, 2000) reports that “Energy use in buildings accounts for between 40% and 50% of the UK’s emissions of carbon dioxide”; also see Williams, Daniel E., Sustainable Design: Ecology, Architecture, and Planning (John Wiley & Sons, 2007) and Du Pisani, Jacobus A, “Sustainable Development–historical Roots of the Concept,” Environmental Sciences 3, no. 2 (2006). 45 Ciccone, Antonio and Hall, Robert E., “Productivity and the Density of Economic Activity”; Deuskar, Chandan, East Asia’s Changing Urban Landscape: Measuring a Decade of Spatial Growth; Glaeser, Edward and Joshi-Ghani, Abha, “Rethinking Cities: toward Shared Prosperity”; Glaeser, Edward L. and Mare, David C., “Cities and Skills”. Also see Myers, Danny, Construction Economics: A New Approach (Routledge, 2013); Wong, James M. W., Chiang, Y. H., and Ng, Thomas S., “Construction and Economic Development: The Case of Hong Kong,” Construction Management and Economics 26, no. 8 (2008); Han, Sun Sheng and Ofori, George, “Construction Industry in China’s Regional Economy, 1990-1998,” Construction Management and Economics 19, no. 2 (2001). 46 Asquith, Lindsay and Vellinga, Marcel, Vernacular Architecture in the Twenty-first Century: Theory, Education and Practice (London, New York: Taylor & Francis, 2006), 265. 47 Oliver, Paul, Built to Meet Needs: Cultural Issues in Vernacular Architecture (Routledge, 2007). 48 The review of the research on sustainability of vernacular architecture see Vellinga, M., “Vernacular Architecture and Sustainability: Two or Three Lessons …,” Vernacular Architecture: Towards a Sustainable Future (2014). 49 Fry, E. Maxwell and Drew, Jane B., “Mankind’s Early Dwellings and Settlements,” in Bowen; Vagner, Passive and Low Energy Alternatives; Kimura, K. and Yamazaki, K., “Passive Cooling of Thatched Roofs in Traditional Japanese Vernacular Homes,” in Bowen; Vagner, Passive and Low Energy Alternatives. 50 Fathy, Hassan, Natural Energy and Vernacular Architecture: Principles and Examples with Reference to Hot Arid Climates (Published for the United Nations University by the University of Chicago Press, 1986). 51 Oliver, Paul, Encyclopedia of Vernacular Architecture of the World, Vernacular architecture of the world, edited by Paul Oliver (Cambridge, New York, NY, USA: Cambridge, New York, NY, USA Cambridge University Press, 1997). 52 Mileto, Camilla et al., Vernacular Architecture: Towards a Sustainable Future (CRC Press, 2014). 53 For some other examples among the growing body of research on the sustainable character of vernacular architecture: Rasulo, M., “Vernacular Architecture Related to the Climate in the Mediterranean Basin: A Lesson We Should Learn,” International Journal for Housing and Its Applications 27, no. 3 (2003); Soflaee, F. and Shokouhian, M., eds., Natural Cooling Systems in Sustainable Traditional Architecture of Iran (2005); Singh, Manoj Kumar, Mahapatra, Sadhan, and Atreya, S. K., “Solar Passive Features in Vernacular Architecture of North-East India,” Solar Energy 85, no. 9 (2011); Maleki, B. Ahmadkhani, “Wind Catcher: Passive and Low Energy Cooling System in Iranian Vernacular Architecture,” International Journal on Technical and Physical Problems of Engineering (IJTPE), no. 8 (2011); Weber, Willi and Yannas, Simos, Lessons from Vernacular Architecture (Routledge, 2013); Dabaieh, Marwa, Earth Vernacular Architecture in the Western Desert of Egypt (2013). 54 Zhang, Donia, Courtyard Housing and Cultural Sustainability: Theory, Practice, and Product (Ashgate Publishing, Ltd, 2013). 55 Bernard Rudofsky, Architecture without Architects (UNM Press, 1964) (Rudofsky 1964). 56 Oliver, Paul. Encyclopedia of Vernacular Architecture of the World. Cambridge University Press, 1997. 57 Pan, Guxi 潘谷西, Zhongguo jianzhushi 中国建筑史 [A history of Chinese architecture] (Zhongguo jianzhu gongye chubanshe, 2009). 58 Liang, Ssu-ch’eng and Fairbank, Wilma, A Pictorial History of Chinese Architecture: A Study of the Development of Its Structural System and the Evolution of Its Types (MIT Press, 1984), 8. 59 Fletcher, Banister, A History of Architecture on the Comparative Method (London: Batsford, 1905), 638. 60 Ibid. 61 Watkin, David, The Rise of Architectural History (The architectural press, 1983), 87. 34

62 See Zha’s interview with Lao Nu in Zha, Jianying, China Pop: How Soap Operas, Tabloids and Bestsellers Are Transforming a Culture (New Press, 1996). 63 Itō Chūta and Chen, Qingquan 陈清泉, trans, Zhongguo Jianzhushi 中国建筑史 [A History of Chinese Architecture] (Commercial Press, 1998). First published in 1925, and then translated by Chen Qingquan into Chinese. The Chinese version was first published in 1937. Also see Tseng, Alice Y., “In Defence of Kenchiku: Itō Chūta’s Theorization of Architecture as a Fine Art in the Meiji Period,” Review of Japanese Culture and Society 24, no. 1 (2012). 64 Ruan, Xing, Allegorical Architecture: Living Myth and Architectonics in Southern China (University of Hawaii Press, 2006). 65 Li, Yunhe 李允稣, Huaxia Yijiang: Zhongguo Gudian Jianzh Sheji Yuanli Fenxi 华夏意匠：中国古典建筑设计原理分析 [Cathay’s Idea: Design Theory of Chinese Classical Architecture] 2 (Tianjin: Tianjin University Press, 2005). 66 The assessment of the air quality is according to Ambient Air Quality Standards, coding: GB 3095-2012. 67 The Reference Number of the official document is 000014672/2014-00747 as reported by Ministry of Environmental Protection of the People’s Republic of China. 68 ABC News by China correspondent Bill Birtles on 9 November, 2015. 69 Frampton, Kenneth, The Evolution of 20th Century Architecture: A Synoptic Account (New York: Springer, 2007). 70 Ibid. 71 For some examples, Le Corbusier and Lupo, Giovanni-Maria, Vers une architecture [Towards a New Architecture] 1 (Arthaud, 1931); Gropius, Walter, Scope of Total Architecture (London: G. Allen & Unwin, 1980); Benevolo, Leonardo, History of Modern Architecture (MIT Press, 1977); Marinetti, Filippo Tommaso, “Manifesto of Futurism,” Le Figaro 20 (1909); Sant’Elia, Antonio, Manifesto of Futurist Architecture (2002); Loos, Adolf and Opel, Adolf, Ornament and Crime: Selected Essays (Ariadne Press (CA), 1998). 72 Ibid., 9 73 Loos, Adolf and Opel, Adolf, Ornament and Crime: Selected Essays (Ariadne Press (CA), 1998), 168. 74 Giedion, Sigfried, Space, Time and Architecture: the Growth of a New Tradition (Harvard University Press, 1967), XXXIII. 75 Rykwert, Joseph, The First Moderns (MIT Press Cambridge, 1980). 76 See Marinetti, Filippo Tommaso, “Manifesto of Futurism,” Le Figaro 20 (1909). 77 Sant’Elia, Antonio, Manifesto of Futurist Architecture (2002). 78 Ibid. 79 Sant’Elia, Antonio and Marinetti, Filippo Tommaso, “1914 Antonio Sant’Elia and Filippo Tommaso Marinetti: Futurist architecture,” in Programs and Manifestoes on 20th-century Architecture, ed. Ulrich Conrads (MIT Press, 1970). 80 See Weber, Max. “Science as a Vocation.” In Science and the Quest for Reality, pp. 382-394. Palgrave Macmillan UK, 1946; Weber, Max, The Sociology of Religion (Boston: Beacon Press, 1993). 81 Le Corbusier and Lupo, Giovanni-Maria, Vers une architecture [Towards a New Architecture] 1 (Arthaud, 1931). 82 This capture phrase was first used by Walter Gropius as a principle for the 1923 international exhibition in Weimar. Findeli, Alain, “Rethinking Design Education for the 21st Century: Theoretical, Methodological, and Ethical Discussion,” Design Issues 17, no. 1 (2001). 83 Progress, “Business Notices,” 1 Nov, 1905. 84 CIAM, “1928 CIAM: La Sarraz Declaration,” 110. 85 Quoted from influential American screenwriter and producer Gene Roddenberry (1921-1991). 86 Quoted from R. Buckminster Fuller (1895-1983). 87 To provide some literature references: Alexander, Jeffrey C. and Sztompka, Piotr, Rethinking Progress: Movements, Forces, and Ideas at the End of the Twentieth Century (Routledge, 2002); Hodge, Tony, “Towards a Conceptual Framework for Assessing Progress Towards Sustainability,” Social Indicators Research 40, no. 1 (1997). 88 McLennan, Jason F., The Philosophy of Sustainable Design: The Future of Architecture (Ecotone publishing, 2004); Welford, Richard, Environmental Strategy and Sustainable Development: The Corporate Challenge for the Twenty-first Century (Routledge, 1995); Altomonte, Sergio, Rutherford, Peter, and Wilson, Robin, “Mapping the Way Forward: Education for Sustainability in Architecture and Urban Design,” Corporate Social Responsibility and Environmental Management 21, no. 3 (2014). 35

89 Heidegger, Martin, “The Question Concerning Technology,” Technology and Values: Essential Readings (1954); (Welford 1995). 90 Pérez Gómez, Alberto, Architecture and the Crises of Modern Science (Cambridge, Mass., London: MIT, 1983). 91 See Tzonis, Alexander and Lefaivre, Liane, “Why Critical Regionalism Today?,” Architecture and Urbanism 236 (1990); Frampton, Kenneth, “Towards a Critical Regionalism,” Postmodernism: a reader (1993). 92 Frampton, Kenneth, “Ten Points on an Architecture of Regionalism: A Provisional Polemic,” Architectural Regionalism: Collected Writings on Place, Identity, Modernity and Tradition (1987). 93 Corbusier’s Œuvres Complètes reveals how the concept of promenade architecturale was formed and how he was inspired by Arab architecture, see Le Corbusier and Jeanneret, Pierre, Œuvres Complètes 1929-1934, Œuvre complète (Zürich: Girsberger, 1935). Other books also depict Corbusier’s early experiences in Arabian countries and the impressions he gained from the local buildings, see Le Corbusier, Le voyage d’Orient (Editions Parenthèses, 1987); Le Corbusier, La Ville Radieuse: eléments d’une doctrine d’Urbanisme pour l’équipement de la civilisation machiniste (Vincent, Fréal, 1933). 94 See Hyde, Richard et al., The Environmental Brief (Taylor & Francis, 2007); Moffat, David, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre—Lijiang, China [EDRA/Places Awards, 2004-Design],” Places 16, no. 3 (2004); “Li Xiaodong: jianzhu duixian linian 李晓东：建筑兑现理念 [Li Xiaodong: architecture realizes ideas],” Zhonghua Jianzhu 中华建筑 [Chinese Architecture] 3 (2006); “Jury Citation” for the 2005 UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation on the official website.http://www.unescobkk.org/culture/wh/asia-pacific-heritage-awards/previous-heritage- awards-2000-2013/2005/award-winners/2005jc2/.

95 See Fathy, Hassan, Architecture for the Poor: An Experiment in Rural Egypt (University of Chicago Press, 2010); Ḥāmid, Aḥmad, Hassan Fathy and Continuity in Islamic Architecture: The Birth of a New Modern (American University in Cairo Press, 2010).

2 Chapter 2: Architectural Progress and the Architectural Precedent

Pre-modern Chinese architecture evolved slowly, with minor physical changes over thousands of years. While this slow evolution has been observed by some scholars, it has not been seen as a significant research focus, partly because pre- modern architecture seems to divert from the prevailing consciousness of progress, which emphasises tangible innovation and perceptible improvements. Previous studies on pre-modern Chinese architecture, though limited, can be categorized into three streams. The first stream explored the subtle changes in meticulous details to demonstrate that there was still tangible progress that could be detected.1 The second group focused on the values and achievements in the discourse of techniques, structures, typology and ornaments in the architecture.2 The third stream unilaterally emphasised the longevity of the history of pre-modern Chinese architecture, but somewhat understated the phenomenon of slow evolution.3

This chapter aims to shed light on the evolution of pre-modern Chinese architecture. By exploring the evolution of an architectural element in great detail, the research reveals that there was a noteworthy feature that contributed to the slow evolution. The evolution of architecture did not necessarily rely on changes to physical form. Progress could be evidenced instead in the non-material culture attached to architecture.

In light of the conclusion drawn from the evolution of a Chinese pre-modern architectural element, the zhaobi, in Section 2.1, this study goes on to investigate the evolution of Le Corbusier’s promenade architecturale during the process of Le Corbusier’s learning from Arabian enclosed courtyards. Books, such as The Evolution of 20th Century architecture, American Glamour and the Evolution of Modern Architecture, The Evolution of Style in Modern Architecture and Space, Time and Architecture have shown from different angles how divergent the physical forms are in modern architecture. 4 This chapter makes a more detailed

investigation of the evolution of two architectural elements 1) The zhaobi and 2) The promenade architectural. Although the time frames and cultural contexts examined are distinctive and very different (one pre-modern and one modern) they nevertheless help us to conceive of different ways of understanding or imagining ‘progress’.

Corbusier’s early practice around the 1910s and 1920s can be a representative example to reflect a popular way of achieving progress in modern architecture. Tangible changes are largely applied between design works to reflect originality and the ever new. This approach was effective to energise the field of architecture and to introduce fresh ideas at that time. When low carbon living and sustainability become the main pursuit, other ways of achieving progress in architecture may deserve more attention. To search for a richer notion of progress in architecture, this study is inspired by exploring the history of pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture. For example, the evolution of an architectural element, the zhaobi, shows that the potential of architecture is to keep unchanged form, but accommodate changing needs through non-material approaches.

2.1 The Evolution of The zhaobi Across Time and Space

To reveal in detail the evolution of pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture, the first section of this chapter is focused on the history of a specific architectural element, zhaobi 照壁. This element is chosen because it is independent from other elements in the pre-modern Chinese courtyard, the siheyuan. Also, it has a history as old as the Chinese courtyard.

The zhaobi is a piece of freestanding wall that is usually placed at the entrance to pre-modern Chinese courtyards. The zhaobi has a long history and is still in use today. Yet there needs to be a comprehensive analysis of the use of the zhaobi in different periods and of its symbolic meaning translated between social classes and ethnic groups. Despite of the seeming stability of the zhaobi in physical form, this case study suggests that the evolution of the zhaobi was carried forward by

the ruling class’ need for the symbol of political power, scholar-officials’ artistic pursuit, and ethnic minorities’ desires to record their identities. The evolution did not necessarily rely on physical changes of the architecture.

Moreover, the evolution of the zhaobi through time provides clues that illustrate the pursuits and desires of people from different social and cultural backgrounds. This study suggests that the manifestations of the zhaobi occurred in three stages: initially, the zhaobi was endowed with authoritative power since it was only permitted in the imperial palaces; in the second phase, a democratization process resulted in a dilution of the zhaobi’s authoritative power while, ironically, adding rich meanings through exquisite craftsmanship. In the last phase, this case study maintains that the zhaobi regained much of its original purpose which was to symbolise family identity and suggest the behaviour expected at the entry to the imperial palace. The question of evolution of meaning in architecture can therefore be elucidated through a case study of the adaption of the zhaobi by an ethnic group in its houses.

As a wall crowned with roof, usually positioned at the entrance to the traditional Chinese house, the zhaobi has existed for three thousand years in China. Despite dynasties changing, the zhaobi has kept its original appearance. Even the oldest zhaobi (Figure 2-1) does not present an unfamiliar form. It is located at a gateway and 4 m in front of the main entrance of a courtyard house, 4.8 m long, 1.2 m thick, and 0.2 m in height, covered by a wooden roof.5

Not only was the zhaobi passed down through history, it also spread geographically and reached as far as the southwestern borderland of China. At face value, the zhaobi involves minor physical changes. There are, however, many subtleties lying beyond its physical form. To search for their nuances, broadening the disciplinary lens to consider the phenomena in a holistic context is necessary. This research shows that the history of the zhaobi can be separated into three main phases, identifiable by their differences which are chiefly reflected in both the updating spirit of the time and the needs of different social groups.

2.1.1 First Phase: Ancient Zhaobi and Authoritative Power

Treated as a symbol of political power, the zhaobi marked the prominence of the ruling classes and indicated the emotions as well as the behaviour that visitors were expected to display.

The oldest zhaobi found today was built in the Western Zhou dynasty. At that time, the zhaobi was rare in China. It was found in archaeological remains in Fengchu. When this zhaobi was first found at Qi Mountain in Shanxi province, archaeologists

deduced that Fengchu might be an imperial city, as contemporary literature indicates that the use of the zhaobi was restricted. Later on, with the accumulation of other evidence, the status of this city was confirmed. The findings included city moats and a former national archives administration, where writings about national politics, economics and military affairs were documented on turtle shells.

As reflected through literature records, the use of the zhaobi was limited by social conventions and laws. In the rigidly hierarchical Western Zhou dynasty, political rank was represented in architectural form. For example, it was ruled that emperors’ pillars could be coloured red, while local feudal princes had to use black and chancellors’ colours were dark cyan and white. 6 Construction techniques were also distinguished: timbers prepared for an emperor had to be cut, polished and burnished. For local feudal princes, timbers should be cut and polished, and for chancellors, they would simply be cut.7 Rules for using and constructing the zhaobi were recorded in Xun Zi. Only an emperor could build a zhaobi outside his gate. Local feudal princes had to locate theirs inside, and chancellors were only allowed to use curtains.8 The special status of the zhaobi was not only confirmed by limits on its use, but also emphasised in its symbolic function of creating a formal atmosphere.

The zhaobi’s early designation emphasised its role as an exclusive privilege of the ruling classes. Zhaobi was called xiaoqiang 萧墙.9 This term is a combination of two Chinese characters: xiao 萧 and qiang 墙. The meaning of the latter character, qiang 墙, is wall. 10 Xiao 萧 was equivalent to another character, su 肃 which means serious, solemn, respectful, and keeping silent.11 In practice, the literal meaning of su 肃 mirrors xiaoqiang’s role as a wall for solemnity and respect accorded to the ruling classes.

Ancient scholars like He Yan and Liu Xi depicted the zhaobi’s original role in their writings. He Yan (195–249 CE) was a respectable scholar and a politician. Even as a child, He Yan showed a talent for understanding etiquette and literature. Impressed by little He Yan, the local prince of the Wei vassal state brought He Yan up as his son. As a result, He Yan knew the living conditions and rituals of the 41

ruling class well. His identity and background knowledge also contributed to a comprehensive understanding of the zhaobi, both in its linguistic meaning and as a symbol of political power. He Yan wrote in Lunyu Jieji: ‘xiaoqiang is regarded as a screen. xiao 萧 is su 肃. To respect etiquette between the monarch and his subjects during a meeting, the zhaobi is positioned to stimulate an atmosphere of seriousness and formality, so it is called xiaoqiang 萧墙.’12 Another scholar, Liu Xi (?–160 CE) was a glossary expert of the Han dynasty. In Shiming, a classical work aiming to explain the origin of glossaries, he also interpreted xiao 萧 as su 肃 and mentioned its deliberate function of holding visitors in awe not just of the physical structure but of the symbolic power of the zhaobi as well.

The ancient zhaobi also demanded respect. According to ancient etiquette, visitors should prepare themselves reverentially once they saw a zhaobi at the gate. Consequently, another term referring to the zhaobi was mentioned frequently during the Han dynasty. The term was ‘fusi’ 罘罳, which portrayed the symbolic function of the zhaobi. Fu 罘 means repeat again or once more, and Si 罳 means think or conceive.13 To quote from Gu jin zhu (An Interpretation of Classics, first published between 265–420 CE): If a minister comes and wishes to talk to the monarch … after the minister steps into the gate but behind a zhaobi, he needs to think carefully about how he will report. Fusi 罘罳 means stop and think again so you are able to prepare yourself with due seriousness.14

Following the rules for meeting the emperor, even local feudal princes had to kneel behind the zhaobi. This would apply on more solemn occasions, for example during rituals conducted in autumn when feudal princes came to visit the emperor, according to Jingli 谨礼 (Salute), a book about meeting etiquette applied in the Zhou dynasty. 15

However, the rules of using the zhaobi became less restrictive in later dynasties. In the Spring and Autumn period, war-shattered China was balkanized into vassal states. At that time, even though the zhaobi was still a symbol of power and identity, rules were occasionally challenged, as recorded in The Analects of Confucius. 42

Referring to the qualities of Li (ritual), 16 Confucius criticised a non-imperial dignitary’s misuse of the zhaobi. As a senior chancellor of Qi vassal state, Guan Zhong was not supposed to build a zhaobi but did so. Confucius expressed his views of Guan’s behaviour sarcastically, saying: Only the ruler of a state can set a screen in his gate; but Guan Zhong too has set a screen in his gate …. If you say that Guan Zhong knew the ritual, then who does not know the ritual?17

2.1.2 Second Phase: Democratization—Weakened Authoritative Power but Enriched Artistic Value

In the Tang dynasty when the governors were comparatively more open-minded, the zhaobi was no longer a privilege of the imperial family. More people began to build the zhaobi and its symbolic meaning and function changed gradually and because of the varied lives of its new users, the zhaobi’s former authoritative power of marking the imperial class’s identity was weakened. Over the following dynasties, the rules of Li (ritual) were still observed, but ‘misuse’ of the zhaobi was not unusual in civil life. Applied more widely, the zhaobi, though constructed for aesthetic purposes and to ensure good fortune to the house, becomes more reflective of people’s lives with increasingly rich meanings such as symbolic representations of prosperity and long life.

When the literati began to use the zhaobi, it became a tool for artistic practice in the Tang dynasty, and later in the Song dynasty another name yingbi 影壁 was given to the zhaobi. Ying 影 means shadow or image and bi 壁 means wall. Deng Chun, a scholar of the Southern Song dynasty wrote down a possible origin for this term in his Huaji, a history of Chinese painters. Apparently, when Guo Xi (a painter of the Northern Song dynasty) was admiring a wall painted with landscape drawings by Huizhi18 (Yang Huizhi, an artist of the Tang dynasty), Guo Xi suddenly had an inspiration. He began to paste mud onto the wall by hand, giving the wall an undulating effect full of sags and crests. When the mud dried and turned hard, he painted the wall guided by the shape of the dried mud and a magical effect emerged of mountains and forests. He continued to draw figures and pavilions on

the landscape. The rugged surface projected shadows and gave the picture a three dimensional appearance. Subsequently, painters coined a new name for the zhaobi that is Yingbi (a wall of shadows).

Apart from painting, ancient Chinese literati also wrote poems on the zhaobi. Generally drawing and versifying were the favourite pastimes of ancient Chinese literati. In Quan Song Ci, the introduction of Guo Yingxiang’s Xijiangyue depicted a scene that Guo was very happy at a birthday party and the atmosphere was lively. There happened to be a zhaobi in the place where the party was held, so Guo composed a poem to celebrate this memorable occasion and wrote the poem onto this zhaobi.19 This custom has been carried on in some parts of China until the present day, so one can frequently see paintings and poems on the zhaobi. They have been an instrument for artistic expression since the second phase in the history of the zhaobi.

To discuss the relationship of traditional Chinese architecture and good fortune, one must examine the Chinese geomantic omen of fengshui. In Zang shu, Guo Pu (276–324 CE) wrote: Qi 20 rides the wind and scatters, but is retained when encountering water. The ancients collected it to prevent its dissipation, and guided it to assure its retention. Thus it was called fengshui.21 So gathering qi and protecting it was regarded as an auspicious way of acting. Qi is the sine qua non for the Chinese building tradition. It is believed that material, human and myriad objects are formed from qi. In Chinese philosophy, qi forms the weather (wind, rain and cloud). 22 Not only the human body but also its consciousness and spirits are maintained by qi.23 Such an invisible element could, however, be protected by walls offering an auspicious future. So the zhaobi was also translated figuratively as ‘protective screen’ or ‘spirit wall’ in English. 24 In Yangzhai shishu (first published between 1368–1644 CE), the protective function of the zhaobi wall was described as its ability to divide space off without completely enclosing it. The result was that auspiciousness and inauspiciousness would be kept confined to a specific space and kept apart from each other. 25 In recent dynasties, mainstream thought has associated the zhaobi with good fortune and

used it as a tool for fengshui. As Knapp documented, in some places, such as Shanxi province, people call the zhaobi ‘fengshui walls’. 26

The myths of the zhaobi also reveal an auspicious nature. There was a prevailing myth about the zhaobi raised in many documents like The Insider’s Guide to Beijing and The Means of Screen Wall in Folk House.27 It was said that wandering ghosts or evil spirits may enter houses through its entrance so the gate was vulnerable. However, the zhaobi could act as a mirror to deflect such dangerous influences. When the ghosts or spirits saw their own image on the zhaobi, they would be terrified and retreat. In this way the house is protected. Though reliable historical records are lacking to verify the existence of this belief, when the author discussed the zhaobi myths with the villagers in Yunnan province, they usually related the zhaobi to good fortune and positive influences. 28 In addition, existing zhaobi provided substantive proof of their auspicious nature by incorporating suitable symbols or images. The calligraphic character, fu 福 (good fortune or blessing) is an effective way of encompassing various kinds of good wishes, and this is what villagers generally use in Jianchuan (Figure 2-2). Symbols, like the sun, the moon, dragon, turtle, peony, deer and pine tree, have particular meanings 29 and also appear on the zhaobi.

Figure 2-2 The zhaobi with ‘福’ (good fortune or blessing) (photos by the author) 45

2.1.3 Third Phase: The zhaobi Reused as a Symbol of Identity

In most of China, the function and meaning of the zhaobi dominating the second phase was steadily passed down through the generations. However, it should be noted that its original function of marking the family identity seems to have been revived by one regional ethnic group—the Bai. This group lives in southwestern China in Yunnan province. Their houses are commonly called sanfang yi zhaobi 三坊一照壁 (three buildings and one zhaobi). The zhaobi has been indispensable to the Bai for many centuries and still is. If it can be afforded, the family will construct a zhaobi for their house. Essentially, the home of the Bai is usually a courtyard house. Around the central courtyard are three rows of buildings forming a U shape and the open side is enclosed by a zhaobi to form a quadrangle (Figure 2-3).

Figure 2-3 Model and Sketch of Sanfang Yi Zhaobi (photo and drawing by the author)

The location of the zhaobi in the Bai’s courtyard is comparatively flexible. When they were not located in front of or behind the gate, many were built as a part of the perimeter wall opposite the central hall of the courtyard house. This method is more practical and economical. Because the Bai’s zhaobi is usually whitewashed, it can reflect light into the courtyard and the central hall. At the same time, it acts as a windbreak against the strong wind from Er Lake, which most of the Bai houses face.30

The Bai like to write a family story on the zhaobi. This practice is especially prevalent around the administrative and political centre of the Bai, along the Erhai 46

Lake. Stories are written to represent particular families in the neighbourhood and local people are able to recognise the family name of the home owner from the story on the zhaobi. Usually, the family story will be summarized down to four characters. Among many examples, Qinhejiasheng 琴鹤家声 (a zither and a crane)31 represents the family of Zhao. Zhao Bian was a government official who was honest and frank, serving people with undivided attention. He was not rich but he was respected as an ancestor of the Zhao family in the Bai region because he was of good taste and he always brought his zither and crane with him. His legacy to his descendants was simply the zither and the crane.32 Consequently, the Zhao families used these two objects to identify themselves and set a model for descendants.

Other examples include the Zhangs who adopted the writing on the zhaobi, bairenjiafeng 百忍家风 (a family tradition of tolerance) as the symbol of their family (Figure 2-4). There were nine 33 generations living together at Zhang Gongyi’s home. One might have expected conflict because of contrasting ages and lifestyles, but the Zhang family lived in harmony. Zhang Gongyi’s secret to managing such a big family was tolerance and magnanimity.

Figure 2-4 The zhaobi of the Zhang family with ‘百忍家风’ (a family tradition of tolerance) (photos by the author)

Apart from writing family stories on the zhaobi, the Bai use the walls to symbolize family identity in many other ways. In the town of Xi Zhou, Dali State, Yunnan province, the Bai who have gained honours, record these on their zhaobi, such as an outstanding rank achieved in imperial examinations or exceptional performance in the national army. In Nuo Deng, villagers recalled an incident which happened about in 2011. A young villager was accepted by one of China’s best universities and her family built a zhaobi similar to the one at the home of an ancient Jinshi (a successful candidate in the highest imperial examinations). Patriarchs of that village took the newly built zhaobi to be a disrespectful construction, because they felt that the characteristics of that particular zhaobi were reserved for the family of Jinshi. Eventually the university student’s family modified its zhaobi.

For the Bai, the zhaobi is not only an important symbol for marking the family’s identity and history, but it also possesses the power to guide people’s behaviour in everyday life. In the town of Jian Chuan, Dali State, Yunnan province, the elderly frequently kneel and burn joss sticks piously in front of the zhaobi (Figure 2-5). Moreover, if a stranger shows interest in a house’s zhaobi, its owners are generally keen to share their family history with that person. This is a common experience for the author. In some friendly families, the owners even bring their genealogical records out to showcase the history of their families.

Figure 2-5 An old lady finishing her worship in front of the zhaobi (photos by the author)

The Bai’s status as the ruling class in the Yunnan area might be a reason why they used the zhaobi to symbolise the clan. The Bai are comparatively more powerful in population, history and politics than the other twenty-five ethnic groups in Yunnan. More than 80% of the 1.86 million Bai people in China live in Yunnan province 34 and they have a long history which can be traced to 2000 BCE.35 The Bai established local authority and ruled other ethnic groups in Yunnan. Initially, in 902 CE, they founded the Bai Zi Kingdom36 and in the following one thousand years, they successively established the Nan Zhao and Da Li Kingdoms. Their prominent status enabled the Bai to communicate more frequently with central China and, at the same time, focus on building their own style of architecture. The Bai’s ethos and confidence can be determined from the architecture details manifested in their zhaobi.

However, this is not the whole story. At a deeper level, the zhaobi on the contrary signifies that the Bai lacked real political power and attempted to establish their own identity by pretending to be Han, the dominant population that ruled China for thousands of years. The Bai only accounts for 0.13% of China’s population. Over the Bai’s lengthy history, mainly because they possessed less political power, they were usually suppressed by the Han, especially in the Ming dynasty. 37 So the Bai are psychologically in awe of the Han. Family stories written on Bai zhaobi often cite the classics of the Han and most so-called Bai ancestors are actually from the Han group.38 Furthermore, during census (recorded in 1808 CE), many native- born Bai claimed that they had migrated from central China, a wealthier Han- dominated area.39 The author thus suggests that, on the one hand, the revival of the zhaobi in the Bai region displayed the minority group’s notable power and confidence about their identity. Paradoxically, the increased assertiveness of their architecture and its actual contents, especially regarding the zhaobi, compensates for a lack of real power in practice to underpin their own identity.

2.1.4 Conclusion

Between different social groups and over extended periods of time, the invisible power lying beyond physical architecture has been translated in many ways. The patterns of change in the zhaobi’s meaning was not directly embodied through its 49

physical expression, but more accomplished by non-material changes, such as laws, conventions, rituals, stories, poetry and designations. 40 Through these means, the needs of different social groups have been accommodated with the zhaobi being an example of how architectural evolution has occurred in pre- modern Chinese vernacular architecture.

These case studies of the zhaobi in pre-modern Chinese architecture, and its prolonged life in the houses of Bai, show that the potency of architectural meaning lies not in the variation of form but in the way a particular meaning is attached to that same form. The evolution of the zhaobi in time and space provides a timely understanding of the interaction between the occupation of an architectural form and its social significance. Any evolution of the intended meaning does not necessarily depend on the physical change of form. This study may add a salutary dimension to the pursuit of sustainability in our time—the static nature of the built form and the spirit of time are not, and should not be, mutually exclusive.

2.2 Le Corbusier’s Promenade Architecturale and the Hidden Courtyard

Having examined the evolution of a Chinese pre-modern architectural element— zhaobi—this study finds that there seems not to have been much ‘progress’ or change in pre-modern Chinese architecture in terms of physical form. Rather, the meanings attached to zhaobi continued to be updated. As discussed earlier, it would be difficult to systematically document the evolution of modern architecture given the burgeoning development of modern architectural theories and divergent movements. This section focuses instead on the ins and outs of a famous theory, namely, Le Corbusier’s famous ‘Promenade architecturale’ and thus attempts to gain insights into the evolution pattern of architecture based on this theory. This study traces both the original source of the inspiration and Corbusier’s decade of design based on this theory.

Le Corbusier publicly acknowledged Arabian architecture when he first proposed ‘Promenade architecturale’ in Oeuvre Complète. The opportunity for Corbusier to really engage with Arabian architecture before proposing ‘promenade architecturale’ came from his journey to the east and the two visits to Algeria. During his early years, as a young explorer, Corbusier showed great interest in the exotic vernacular architecture. Immersed in this particular milieu, he was motivated to penetrate the seemingly mysterious and fascinating internal world to be found behind the walls of enclosed inner courtyards. There were contrasting atmospheres outside and inside the courtyards. The details that pointed to a different scene inside courtyards, such as overgrown vegetation, were interpreted as alluring hints by Corbusier.

In Corbusier’s personal travel notes, sketches and writing, two themes—visual stimulation and encouragement of movement—are present throughout his various experiences. These two impressions formed Le Corbusier’s understanding of Arabian architecture. He explains: Arab architecture can teach us a great deal. It favours the act of walking; this is the means, by moving from one place to another, that one sees the order of the architecture unfold.41

Sticking to these impressions, Corbusier experimented with numerous architectural forms in praxis in order to create the unfolding feeling of ‘promenade architecturale’. A great number of details were built for promenade architecturale, but this study only covers enclosed open-air spaces and the passages leading to them. Though the area covered by this case study has to be selective, it still offers the opportunity to review a long list of innovative designs emanating from the constantly changing architectural forms. 42 What drew attention was the revolutionary architectural form, much less the culture and history behind the form. Rather than the historical or cultural continuity, the architect showed more interest in searching for innovative architectural forms based on the inspiration from precedents. The architect expressed his ultimate goal was to achieve ‘prospects which are constantly changing and unexpected, even astonishing’ in architecture.43

Closer examination reveals that the real intention behind the enclosed courtyards that Corbusier visited during early years was the opposite to his wishful interpretation. Because of the requirement of local religion, the enclosed courtyards were neither meant to produce visual stimulation, nor to encourage outsiders to move forward and look inside. These enclosed courtyards were actually warnings against peeping. They guaranteed peaceful domestic life, especially for women, by protecting them from the outside. In contrast to Corbusier’s continuously renewed promenade architecturale buildings, those architectural precedents are based on a social norm.

2.2.1 Corbusier’s Interpretation and the Real Meaning

2.2.1.1 Hidden courtyards and Corbusier’s exotic experiences From May to October in 1911, 24-year-old Jeanneret44 travelled from Dresden to Istanbul, and then visited Greece and Italy with his friend, Auguste Klipstein. This journey was later known as “the voyage to the East” (Le voyage d’Orient). As Corbusier made detailed travel notes during this journey, it is possible to track what he had experienced as well as his personal feelings and understanding. The travel notes were the result of an assignment taken on by Jeanneret during this journey.

He was financially supported by the newspaper La Feuille d’Avis in 1911. As a result, his travel articles have become an important resource for this study.

After the journey to the East, another opportunity arose that enabled Corbusier to engage with the Arabian world in the early 1930s. Corbusier was invited by the mayor of Algiers to give a talk on ‘the architectural revolution achieved by modern techniques’ in 1931. Later in 1933, Corbusier was invited again to discuss a plan that he designed for Quartier de la Marine. During work on the project for Algeria, Corbusier paid utmost attention to local architecture and took notes to record his observations. This resource was kept in Corbusier’s La Ville Radieuse, including Corbusier’s correspondence, sketches and notes of the time. When Corbusier visited Algiers, he was also working on the project of Villa Savoye, which he promoted as a successful paradigm of promenade architecturale.45 The resulting work, Œuvres compléte 1929-1934, was the record of the design and idea. This was a time when Corbusier’s early impressions were refreshed through his journey to Algeria. It is also the time he coined the term of promenade architecturale.

Even though almost twenty years elapsed between the two journeys, Corbusier’s feeling was unchanged and the same impression was refreshed again and again. Each time it came from an unpromising, even disappointing experience such as a rough walk down a stark and dreary street. After the unpleasant trek, some signs of change appeared. Then events changed radically, and an exciting scene unfolded. All these scenarios were related by Corbusier as the inspiration for his special architectural forms.

Corbusier did not set high expectations at the beginning of his journey to the East. He said ‘I knew nothing about the countries we were passing through because no one ever talks about them’.46 This may have been true, because neither Jeanneret nor Auguste Klipstein had prepared a sufficient budget beforehand. This long journey was initially suggested by Klipstein, as his PhD thesis was focused on El Greco and Byzantine art.47 These two young men had just got to know each other that same year in 1911 in Berlin.48 Their encounter was triggered by Klipstein’s wish to learn French from Jeanneret.49

2.2.1.1.1 An exploration in Baja

Baja became an important town once the Ottoman Empire had conquered Hungary. Corbusier used the classical Islamic character, Alibaba, and the grottos as metaphors to depict the people and architecture he encountered in Baja. Though the connection between this city and Arab World may have been faint, the architectural experience impressed Le Corbusier as a prologue to his later pursuit of promenade architecturale.

The first episode was a sleepless night, followed by a trek through the crowded town in the scorching sun, as Corbusier himself commented—‘madness’. 50 Setting off in the morning of 7th June, 1911, Jeanneret and Klipstein left Budapest by ship. When dusk was falling, the young travellers boarded a ‘white boat’, navigating in a ‘strong current’. Jeanneret could not sleep that night. When ‘everyone was asleep’, he was still awake and observed what happened around him. The passengers were accommodated in different classes. Without much money, Jeanneret wrapped himself in his overcoat and noticed, in contrast, that the first-class passengers were resting on red velvet benches. Another scene that annoyed Jeanneret was a coffin being carried aboard the ship. Very early at the crack of dawn, the two young men decided to awaken the Captain and asked for a place ‘that retained its integral character’. Then, following the Captain’s suggestion, they left and set off for half an hour’s voyage floating on a raft before disembarking.

After landing, the two young men were ‘overrun by a throng of pitifully impoverished pilgrims … chanting with great lassitude psalms’, and then squeezed past into a swarming market. The market was not only ‘more overcrowded’, but also difficult to communicate with because of the language barrier. Hot and exhausted under the ‘torrid sun’, the young men felt exhausted after half an hour’s attempt to communicate via gestures. The frustration and challenge of being in a strange city seemed endless. ‘Finally’, they found a potter who allowed them to enter his home. Looking for some folk artwork, the young men were disappointed with both the pottery and the man’s workshop.

However, to Jeanneret’s surprise, a courtyard caught his attention. He used the word, ‘exquisite’, to describe the courtyard. Equipped with an acute appreciation of art, Jeanneret became ‘excited’, and observed it with great interest. Apart from the ‘exuberance of trellises and climbing roses’, Jeanneret was also attracted by other nuances. There was a well that was enclosed with unchiselled stones. The natural coarse surfaces were retained, and stuccoed in white. Sharply contrasting in colour, a black pole for drawing water formed an oblique curve. Against the white background, fresh flowers in red and blue brought added vigour to the courtyard.51

Fascinated by the courtyard, Jeanneret spontaneously recollected the environment outside of the enclosed courtyard. He described the streets as ‘plain’. With lifeless and tedious spaces, they were ‘entirely straight, very broad, and uniform cut at right angles’. Additionally, the heat made them even more unpleasant. ‘The sun crumbles into them. They are deserted’.

Intrigued by the contrast between the interior and exterior of the courtyard, Jeanneret calmed down and tried to find out how this was achieved. In the end, he decided that it was the ‘high walls [that] close them off’.52 Based on this conclusion, he provided more detailed analyses. From the outside, the houses were lined up with narrow gaps between and facades of unified material of the same colour; with windows opening inwards. Therefore, ‘beauty, joy, serenity gather’ in the enclosed courtyards and could not be seen by pedestrians on the street, but overgrown vegetation was an attractive clue. ‘The flowerbeds of the courtyards served as a successful complement to the distinguished appearance of the streets’. 53 Furthermore, the communication between the exterior and interior accentuated the mood of suspense. This transition was ‘a wide semi-circular portal, closed by a door lacquered’ in bright colours of green or red.

2.2.1.1.2 Journey in Istanbul

Similar scenes to Corbusier’s experience in Baja appeared again. The journey to Istanbul was full of ups and downs, distress and excitement, with much exploration and many surprises. ‘Like in old times, to watch all these things unfold’.54 Like the one before, this journey also had an unpleasant start. On a stormy day, the two

young men travelled to Istanbul. Before leaving they viewed their pilgrimage to this grand city with great fervour. The name ‘Constantinople’ was undeniably endowed with traditional veneration. Jeanneret said ‘Pera, Stambour, Scutari: a trinity. I love this word, because there is something sacred about it.’ This land was not only an amalgamation of cultures including Greek, Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman, but also a holy land in a religious sense.

What the two young men saw in reality, however, was a ‘dirty’ harbour and mosques mixed together with the grey sea and the leaden sky. Jeanneret felt disappointed by the ‘muddy’ panorama, since the scene he expected was ‘all white, as raw as chalk’ as often delineated in tourist brochures. The two explorers did not give up though. Jeanneret thought ‘I had to work at it, and most of all I wanted to love this place’. A turning point appeared outside the ‘wooden houses with large spread-out roofs’, which were heated by the sun and turned into purple colours, but under the roofs, ‘fresh greenery’ climbed up and flashed above the enclosed walls. Jeanneret remembered the sensation he had felt ‘within enclosures whose mystery delights me’. 55 Behind the walls, there promised to be an attractive courtyard.

Jeanneret experienced a similar unfolding architectural experience in Istanbul’s Mosques. He made a point of drawing a sketch to show the unfolding view presented by the mosque inside. A corner of an enclosed courtyard could be seen together with the exterior. ‘Monumental portals open directly onto the paved paths of the courtyard’.56 The interiors of the mosques in Istanbul were splendid and lavish. They included ‘gigantic transverse arches’, ‘golden mats’, and sparkling lights shed from numerous ‘tiny windows’, immense domes, and much more. The exuberance of the mosque’s interior was portrayed in another sketch. The exterior of the building, however, was plain and unified in such a way that it was ‘clothed in a majestic coat of whitewash’. 57 Without copious decorations the façade appeared to be bolder and more abstract.

2.2.1.1.3 Refreshed memories in Algeria

Twenty years later when Corbusier travelled to Algeria, his affection for the unfolding feeling in hidden courtyards was revived. The contrast between the exterior and interior encouraged him to explore further. Corbusier’s impression of Algiers was: While the street is a channel of violent movement, your houses know nothing of it: they have closed the walls which face the street. It is within the street. It is within the walls that life blooms.58

A scene from his past reappeared. It was ‘dried’ and ‘sunburned’, and the feeling was especially strong in the built environment where all the surrounding walls and the street land were all made of rammed earth (Figure 2-6). Moving forward, sporadic signs suggested there could be a lively and delicate courtyard behind those coarse walls, but ‘the doors of their houses are forbidden to us’. Finally on departure, the riddle was unscrambled when an airplane lifted Corbusier high above the ground. He described the suddenly unfolding view as a ‘miracle’. The ‘luscious greenery of gardens’ was visible through the window of the airplane. Corbusier hurried to record the splendid view that he gained during the short time of the aeroplane’s take-off. With great affection for the interior spaces of Arab courtyard houses, he portrayed the courtyards with their arches, plants and colonnades in great detail, but used highly abstract masses to embellish and surround the courtyards (Figure 2-6).

Corbusier appreciated Algerian hidden courtyards, and commented that the interior was ‘hospitable and charming’. It is possible that Corbusier gained access to some enclosed courtyards in the northern-central Algerian historical and tourist area of Ghardaïa.59 The cool and cosy space was decorated with white-washed arcades, water features and vegetation (Figure 2-7).60 Corbusier remarked: ‘The layout of these has made them well-filled shells. No opening to the outside: all walls. But within: a poem!’61 Corbusier regarded the interior space as an ‘oasis’ in a giant desert.

Figure 2-7 Corbusier’s sketch of the interior view of an enclosed Arab courtyard (sketched by Le Corbusier from Le Corbusier. 1933. La Ville Radieuse, Vincent, Fréal.) 58

2.2.1.1.4 About exploration: encouragement of movement and visual stimulation

Corbusier linked his personal sense of exploration to the hidden courtyards. This was not only reflected in his travel notes as already mentioned, but was also revealed through his affection for a postcard (Figure 2-8). Among many of his own drawings of Algeria, he specifically selected a postcard and published it in his own book. Corbusier created a scenario around this postcard from his imagination. In the postcard, a Muslim lady stood on a roof terrace looking out. In front of her was an open view of the town, with the sea in the distance. Corbusier’s comment beside the image was ‘sky, sea and mountains. Beatitudes of space. The power of eyes and mind carries far’.62 It remains unclear if the courtyard house really motivated people to move and explore.

Another lady in the postcard was ignored. She seemed uninterested in the view to the outside. Instead, sitting on the floor, she turned her back on the scenery. A corner of parapet behind her seemed to indicate her boundary. The sunlight fell upon her head, but her body was peacefully recessed in the shade without being distracted. The image of the sitting lady may have reflected a closer version of reality for the Arab region; home was a safe haven and offered tranquillity, especially for women.

Figure 2-8 A postcard quoted by Corbusier in his book (Le Corbusier. 1933. La Ville Radieuse, Vincent, Fréal.)

To conclude, two features were emphasised by Corbusier both in his travel notes and his design principle: visual stimulation and encouragement of movement.

2.2.1.2 The meanings of the hidden courtyards and their roles Rather than encouraging people to explore and stimulating movement, enclosed courtyards served as a reminder to outsiders to keep their distance from the Arabian interior, the domestic domain. The enclosed courtyard was similar to ladies’ hijabs. Inhabitants within the courtyard were able to enjoy a tranquil life free from disturbance. Culturally, gender segregation between women and men was strict. The beauty of ladies was expected to be seen by their husbands only. Protected by the ‘hidden courtyard’, residents could enjoy more freedom at home.

In Arab Women’s Lives Retold, Abouzeid recalls a common scene, which was a pleasant moment in a lady’s day: ‘(The hostess) would receive the neighbourhood women in her courtyard, where they would gather and talk while working.’ She described in her book the joyful and relaxing interior of the courtyard. For example, ladies brought cushions and work trays with such items as silk and thread, sitting in the courtyard and gossiping freely. 63

Strict convention demanded that, on the exterior walls, there should be few openings, all located higher than sightline, so as to be protected from passers-by looking in.64 In wealthy families, there were several courtyards in a house. The outside (Birooni) part and the inside (Anderooni) were separated for the male and the female. Usually, guests were entertained by the male household in Birooni. Furthermore, in some regions such as Iran, ‘bent’ entrance and double doors were applied, thus a ‘temporary reception room’ was provided at the entrance to welcome guests who were not supposed to enter.65 Necessary amenities, such as seats and decorations, were prepared in the guests’ area. This whole architecture showed an introverted attitude.

Architecture designed to protect the interior from disturbance was backed by religious teachings. The Qur’an required people to enter a house through a proper door. Otherwise people would be regarded as intentionally avoiding Allah out of fear. Moreover, knocking on the door before entering was compulsory. ‘O you who 60

believe! Do not enter houses other than your houses, until you have asked permission and saluted their inmates; this better, for you may be mindful’.66 Visitors were even asked to avoid looking into the house. Therefore, a polite person would consciously look in other directions rather than at the inner part of the house, especially when the visitor was asking if he or she could enter. ‘Abd Allah ibn Busr reported that when the Prophet of Allah went up to a door with the intention of seeking permission to enter, he did not face the door, but looked left and right. If permission was granted [he would enter]. If not, he would go on his way’. 67 Undoubtedly, peeping was strictly forbidden and could even be punished: A man peeped through a hole in the door of Allah’s Apostle’s house, and at that time, Allah’s Apostle had a Midri (an iron comb or bar) with which he was rubbing his head. So when Allah’s Apostle saw him, he said (to him), ‘If I had been sure that you were looking at me (through the door), I would have poked your eye with this (sharp iron bar).’ Allah’s Apostle added, ‘The asking for permission to enter has been enjoined so that one may not look unlawfully (at what there is in the house without the permission of its people).68

Based on the local culture discussed above, it is clear that enclosed courtyards were not designed for visual stimulation or encouragement of movement. Instead, they were used to protect the privacy of the people inside.

A peaceful ambience and visual barriers were essential to traditional Ottoman houses. Offering facilities for sitting and relaxing was one of the characteristics of traditional Turkish houses. There was almost no furniture, but there were many areas covered with soft cushions or carpets used as resting-places. Raised platforms were built along walls, usually under windows and covered with timber planks. These platforms were also for sitting.

The message of repose was conveyed through details. For example, sofa, as a nucleus for interior circulation in traditional Ottoman houses, was a hall connecting different rooms. Glassie described sofa as ‘a transitional space’. According to its relationship with other rooms, sofa should have been a vibrant place encouraging movement. Three aspects suggest, however, that even the spaces such as sofa 61

were not simply for circulation, but also for sitting and relaxing. First, the sofa was usually spacious, and there were elegant facilities for reposing, such as decorated cushions, carpets, shelves and cupboards. Niches and decoration on the wall of sofa were mainly used to entertain people who rested there, not encourage people to walk around. Frescos, carvings, niches and shelves were arranged in a rhythmical pattern. All of these decorations, facilities and amenities implied that the domestic space was a place for resting rather than visiting on foot.

Second, beyond serving for circulation, sofa also conveyed a feeling of stability. For example, it encouraged sitting and sleeping rather than meandering about. In traditional Turkish families, sofa was also used as a guest room or the elder’s bedroom. Indeed, the hall was connected with other rooms, so it was easier for households to look after people who lived in it. Since sofa was a communal core linking other rooms, the residents also prayed and held ceremonies for weddings and funerals in it. The centripetal pattern allowed for easy gathering.

Finally, a special small room (aka sekialtı) was usually built at the entrance of the building. This room indicated how important it was to keep an undisturbed ambience for seating people in a traditional Turkish home. The floor of Sekialtı was lower, and people needed to take off their shoes here before entering. The sekialtı could be located in front of sofa and simultaneously connected to other rooms. People could enter other rooms without passing through sofa. This function was especially helpful, when people were resting or praying in sofa.

Windows in Turkish houses were high and projected from the outside wall. They were bay windows with a large cantilevered part projecting out and supported by timber bracings. Windows were usually installed with stained glass in the upper half, and lattice below.69 With both the special structure and opaque or translucent materials, the window ensured that the interior space was protected from outsiders looking in.

It can be argued that the emphasis was more on visual barrier than visual stimulation in the vernacular residential buildings of Turkey. Besides sofa and sekialtı, many other strategies existed to form a visual barrier in traditional Turkish

houses. For example, after entering a house, more barriers were formed by a reception room (basoda) and an inner courtyard. 70 Even between inner rooms, there were small transit spaces that encouraged stability. In addition, according to the Ottoman convention of family, in some mansions (konak), harem (for ladies) and selamlik (for gentlemen) were separated, and any visual connection between the two was elaborately avoided.71

Beyond sharing the previously mentioned characteristics, Algerian vernacular houses and domestic life presented numerous attributes quite different to Corbusier’s interpretation. On the one hand, hidden courtyards in Algeria provided visual repose rather than visual stimulation. It enabled a peaceful communication between the inhabitants and the sky. On the other hand, movement was not encouraged. There was no structure deliberately built for the purpose of creating wonder and inspiring exploration.

2.2.2 Corbusier’s Praxis and the Vernacular Courtyards

2.2.2.1 Le Corbusier’s promenade architecturale and its evolution in his works Corbusier concluded that the ‘greatest care was taken over the smallest detail, visible as well as hidden’.72 Applying this to architectural design, he stressed that houses should stimulate a continuous enthusiasm for exploring: The visitors, till now, turn round and round inside, asking themselves what is happening, understanding with difficulty the reasons for what they see and feel; they don’t find anything of what is called a ‘house’. They feel themselves within something entirely new. And … they are not bored, I believe!73

Year Name Innovations

Before Villa Fallet, Villa No hidden space open to the sky 1912 Jacquemet and Villa Stotzer 1912 Villa Jeanneret-Perret A raised garden and inconspicuous entrance

1920 Maison Citrohan An enclosed terrace, narrow long stairs and a closed passage

1922 Villa d’Auteuil A large and elaborately designed roof garden, a mezzanine floor with an open hall and a ramp with a landing

1923 Maison de week-end A roof garden with a shelter-like structure, Rambouillet and a ramp with a multi-directional joint

1923 Villa La Roche- Complex roof garden, closed staircases, Jeanneret mezzanine floors with an open hall and a straight run of ramp

1929– Villa Savoye Two-storied roof garden and ramp 1931 connecting all levels is located in the centre of the house Table 2-1 A list of Corbusier’s praxis of different architectural forms to express the climax of promenade architecturale during 1912-1929

Given the long list of different architectural forms experimented by Corbusier, this study focuses on the evolution of Corbusier’s work over the one and a half decades before Villa Savoye. In this period, there were numerous architectural forms (see ‘innovations’ collated in Table 2-1) created by the architect to reflect the idea of promenade architecturale.74

Before Corbusier’s journey to the East, his designs did not include any secluded spaces open to the sky, such as in Villa Fallet, Villa Jacquemet and Villa Stotzer. After that trip, entrances began subtly to appear in Villa Jeanneret-Perret (Figure 2-9). The entrance was a small gate at the foot of hill, and behind it was a narrow and curved staircase all the way up to the front of the house. The entrance of the building was a humble doorway hidden at a corner. The façade was a complete piece of solid high wall standing beside the house. Behind the doorway was another run of narrow staircase. All of these elements combined to create a mysterious and low-key atmosphere. It was hard to see the delicate roof garden enclosed by solid tall walls built above the whitewashed mass. Travelling through the house was like the unscrambling of a riddle, a series of spatial experiences:

first through the entrance at the foot of the hill, then up the stairs, through the small door of the house, and finally to the roof garden.

Figure 2-9 3D Model of Villa Jeanneret-Perret (Yellow: entrance to the garden; Green: enclosed courtyard) (processed based on the image from Carlo Fumarola’s collection)

From the 1920 onwards, roof gardens and complex vertical access systems were frequently featured in Corbusier’s projects. He elaborately designed his buildings for a rich passage of experience through various architectural forms. In Corbusier’s works, there were a variety of details skilfully designed to encourage movement and produce visual stimulation. This case study mainly focuses on two elements: the sudden revelation of a roof garden and the way leading to it.

In 1920, in a version of Maison Citrohan (Figure 2-10), a terrace was enclosed by solid parapets. Its exterior surface matched perfectly with the peripheral walls of the building. The terrace was on the roof of the first floor and connected to the outside through a straight flight of stairs. Between the end of the stairs and the terrace was a narrow roofed corridor. Through this designed route, spaces would be experienced in the following sequence: facing a solid mass without seeing the open-air roof garden atop the upper floor; then climbing a long staircase all the way up; finally, after passing through a narrow corridor, a terrace unfolding in front. This seems to echo Corbusier’s travelling experiences.

In the other version of Maison Citrohan (Figure 2-11), the route that led to the terrace was more circuitous. Starting from the back of the building, a run of staircase was connected to a passageway which went around the edge of the first floor as a peripheral balcony. The balcony-like passageway was connected to another flight of straight stairs. At the upper end of these stairs was the terrace.

The open-air space in Villa d’Auteuil (1922) was more meticulously designed, and the terrace of Villa d’Auteuil occupied a larger proportion of the plan than Maison Citrohan. In this project, between the first floor and mezzanine there was a ramp, but it did not lead to the terrace. Instead, a spiral staircase served as a link connecting the floors and finally ending on the roof terrace (Figure 2-12).

Maison de week-end Rambouillet (1923) (Figure 2-13) also featured a ramp in the building. This ramp, however, was more direct than the one in Villa d’Auteuil, and was exposed to the open air outdoors. Along the outside wall of the façade, the ramp connected the entrance to the terrace, and did not penetrate the building. In the roof garden, there was a freestanding structure that consisted of several concise elements—a roof, several thin pillars, and a vertical wall. The vertical wall was designed on the side of the façade to merge with the outside wall. As a result, in addition to its height, the roof garden was further dissimulated to protect it from the view of outsiders.

Different from Villa d’Auteuil and Maison de week-end Rambouillet, Villa La Roche- Jeanneret (1923) (Figure 2-14) features a ramp designed to follow a large piece of curved wall. The entire length of this curved wall was intersected by a ribbon window. Progressing up along the ramp, one approaches the ribbon window. At the end of the ramp was no roof garden, but instead, as a substitute for unexpected open-air spaces a mezzanine floor facing a spacious hall. The lofty hall and large transparent glass enabled people to see a large view of the sky from inside.

Atop of Villa La Roche was a roof garden with irregular edges and split levels. The roof garden formed a culmination of another itinerary. This large and complex roof garden worked not only on different levels but was also connected by semi-open rooms. Two shelter-like structures were built at the end of two staircases which were connected to the garden. On the floor of the roof garden, the first view was not of the terrace, but of a ribbon opening framed by two parallel structures: the extended roof of the shelter and the parapet of the terrace. The view framed by the narrow ribbon contrasted with the open view of the terrace. Because of the elaborately designed structures and itinerary, a series of unexpected outlooks unfolded one by one in Villa La Roche.

At the end of the 1920s, in Villa Savoye (Figure 2-15), a ramp and a roof garden were connected to form an iconic journey within the building. This work became

representative of Corbusier’s designing concepts and the embodiment of the strategies he used during this period. This case will be analysed in the next section.

Figure 2-15 3D model and plans of Villa Savoye (figure adapted by the author over the drawings from Tōkyō Daigaku. Kenchiku Gakka. Andō Tadao Kenkyūshitsu, Le Corbusier, 198.)

Thus we see an architect trapped between two desirable but paradoxical goals. On the one hand, Corbusier had a special fascination for traditional hidden courtyards; on the other hand, he delighted in creating new forms and altering and adapting these physical traditions. These themes appear in numerous varying architectural configurations of Corbusier’s decade of practice. As Paul Ricoeur observes:

Whence the paradox: on the one hand, it has to root itself in the soil of its past…However, in order to take part in modern civilization, it is necessary at the same time to take part in scientific, technical, and political rationality, something which very often requires the pure and simple abandon of a whole cultural past.75 This revealed the dilemma inherent in the idea of progress in architecture. Physical changes in architectural form were often seen as a necessity to show the spirit of the time and distinguish the present from the past. It would be significant to re- emphasise what was found in the study of the evolution of the zhaobi in Section 2.1 of this thesis. The potency of architectural progress is not necessarily through the variation of architectural form but can also be achieved through defining new values in relation to the same, repeated form. To expand on this observation, it is worth considering the history of traditional Turkish and Algerian courtyards.

2.2.2.2 Turkish courtyards The design of the Turkish house derived from the primary tent used by nomads. In a tribe, several individual tents were built around a communal core.76 This pattern was passed on through the ages and has accommodated different nations and cultures.

The architectural pattern of rooms surrounding an enclosed courtyard also has a long history in Turkey and can be traced back as far as the Neolithic period. 77 The wall painting from Çatal Hüyük in Anotolia shows a series of open-air courtyards surrounded by rooms in the town.78

In the era of the Hittites, the courtyard house was a mainstream architectural form. In Boğazköy, the archaeological remains of the ancient capital city of the Hittites, the courtyard house was a common type of building. These Hittite courtyards shared many features with today’s Turkish courtyards. Archaeological excavations show that these ancient courtyards were enclosed by high walls with very few and small openings. There was also a circuitous entrance path.

Through ancient Greek, Roman Republic, Roman Empire and Byzantine times, courtyard houses did not give way to new architectural forms, but were adapted to 72

different cultures. The Terrace Houses II in Ephesus provides a view of that period. This group of residential houses have been well preserved to this day. Ephesus was an important town in ancient Greek and Roman times, and its prosperity continued in the Byzantine Empire.

Occupied by different nations in its long history, Ephesus experienced several dramatic changes in culture. Around 560 BCE, Ephesus was occupied by Lydian and then by Alexander the Great.79 In 133 BCE, Ephesus became a city of Roman Republic, and its heyday came once it was designated as the capital city of the Province of Asia.80 The proconsul of the time also moved to Ephesus.

Contrasting with its long history and the diversity of cultures, its architecture was stable. The Terrace House II was a 4000 m2 insula located north of Curetes Street and to the west of Terrace House I. As early as the first century BCE, during the Hellenistic period, terraces made their first appearance. Along Curetes Street, tabernae (shops) were constructed. The residential units were mainly built during Roman Imperial times around the first century CE and were in use until the seventh century.81

There were six houses in the Terrace House II. It can be clearly seen that living spaces were organized around enclosed courtyards (Figure 2-16). These courtyards were meticulously decorated and equipped with water features (Figure 2-17). Entrances to them were circuitous. These early features seemed consistent with what Corbusier observed in the twentieth century.

Figure 2-16 The plan of Terrace House II in Ephesus (Green: courtyards; The six houses of Terrace House II are represented by the various colours.) (drawn after photo by the author)

Figure 2-17 Decoration of an enclosed courtyard in Terrace House II (photo by the author)

Enclosed courtyards have been featured in houses to this day. In addition to residential houses, people also applied the form to buildings of various functions. For example in Turkey, the enclosed courtyard was also essential to mosques as

well as the affiliated buildings surrounding the mosques, such as schools, hospitals, public baths and caravans.

2.2.2.3 Algerian enclosed courtyards As in Turkey, Algeria was influenced by various cultures and governed by different nations. Algeria was well located, and, being a fertile plain between Africa and Europe, was an important transport hub. Various goods, labour sources and migrants were gathered there then transported to other places. Because of this advantage, Algeria had long been regarded as a military target by many nations. After initial Berber settlement, it was successively occupied by the Phoenicians, Romans, Ottomans, Spanish, French and others. Consequently, the language in Algeria changed several times.

In contrast to those dramatic changes in culture, the architecture seemed stable and was best typified by the long enduring form of enclosed courtyards. A special form of the Algerian courtyard house can be traced back thousands of years. According to archaeological excavations, the earliest prototype of Algerian courtyard was a subterranean house composed of a patio connected with one or two side rooms. The relationship between the entrance, patio and surrounding rooms was similar to those found in the later examples. The difference was that the ancient form was built underground. However, this did not prevent the patio from being open to the sky.

Enclosed courtyards were passed on to the Berbers. Lawless’ research shows that courtyards were used by the Berbers to build their dwellings, especially in the areas such as Monts des Ouled Nail and Atlas Tabuaire.82 Voinot and Joly’s research echoed Lawless’ finding. 83

Not only did the Roman period add to the history of enclosed courtyards, it also broadened the application of this architectural form. Archaeological findings show that courtyards were a mainstream architectural form around Algeria during the period when North Africa was occupied by Ancient Rome. For example, in Cuicul (Djémila), many dwellings were built as courtyard houses. When Christianity spread, basilicas and baptisteries emerged. Courtyards were adjoined to 75

baptisteries. In another example, in Hippo Regius, another important heritage site in Algeria, courtyards were found in various buildings, including markets, baptisteries, temples and forums. 84 In Gemellae, the interior details revealed a central courtyard surrounded by columns and rooms.85

Around the seventh century CE, the Islamic religion was introduced to Algeria. Over later periods, Algeria was occupied by Spain and was subsequently governed by Ottoman Empire and France. Through its long and complex history, the use of enclosed courtyards has been preserved and sustained to the present day.

What is interesting is that Algerian vernacular courtyards may be the prototype of the roof garden of Villa Savoye. This design represents one of the famous “five points of modern architecture”.86 Simultaneously the roof garden of Villa Savoye is also a paradigm of the climax of promenade architecturale. However, after two decades of experimentation, did Corbusier achieve this final success by creating a new form or by redeploying a form taken from the Algerian vernacular courtyard?

Compared with earlier Corbusier designs, the most distinctive feature of Villa Savoye’s roof garden was that it was divided into two floors and connected by a ramp.

Coincidently, the storied courtyard was also an important feature of the Algerian vernacular house. Three examples of storied courtyard in Algerian vernacular houses are shown in Figure 2-18. This shows a large opening on the ground of the roof garden on the upper level. This opening gives another courtyard of the lower level access to the open air. Other rooms would be positioned around the courtyard, and connected by the courtyard.

The size of this opening may vary between different houses, but the overall spatial relationship was consistent. It is proposed that there is a strong similarity between the Algerian storied courtyard and that in the Villa Savoye. This link appears to be absent from the literature.

The similarity was not a coincidence, because it can be proved that Corbusier not only noticed the features of the Algerian vernacular courtyard, but also elaborately recorded them. Corbusier did not mention how he was inspired by Algerian storied courtyards in his writing, but his special interest of the double-storied vernacular courtyards can be detected from his sketches drawn in Algeria. The storied courtyard appeared frequently in his extant sketches and was treated as the main focus of each drawing (Figure 2-33). Unless directly comparing these sketches to the detailed drawings of Algerian vernacular courtyards, the sketches could be

easily misinterpreted, because Corbusier did not offer textual explanations. The opening on the ground may be misinterpreted as a pond inside the courtyard rather than the patio of the lower level (Figure 2-19). In the sketch, it depicted the courtyard of the lower level. The large opening in the ceiling may also be mistaken as beams or decoration (Figure 2-19). A very small sketch of the floor plan drawn by Corbusier on the plan in a corner margin further confirms that these sketches were drawn to record the architectural form of the storied courtyards of Algeria (Figure 2-19).

2.3 Conclusion

The difference in evolution between the zhaobi and Corbusier’s promenade architecturale’s evolution from Arabian architecture can be demonstrated by confronting architectural progress realised by nonmaterial cultural changes versus physical evolution (See Sections 2.1 and 2.2.) The study of the zhaobi suggests that the evolution of architecture did not necessarily rely on physical changes in architectural form and that the updated nonmaterial culture—including laws, convention, rituals, language, new application, etc.—could also contribute to renewing architecture. The progress of architecture was substantially realised through updated architectural meaning. The case of Corbusier’s, promenade architecturale emphasises the focus on tangible innovation through a change of architectural forms at first. Physical changes in building elements were seen as a necessity to distinguish designs from their predecessors, but final success involved continuing an unchanged architectural form while endowing it with new meaning. Given the case study reviewed only one modern architect’s praxis and the focus was restricted to designs based on just one of the architect’s theories, one might consider the large number of tangible innovations that are present in modern architecture. This emphasis on progress through material innovation maybe misplaced, in an era with conscious of limits on resources and energy.

Modern architects may find it problematic to draw lessons from pre-modern vernacular architecture, but the special pattern of evolution of pre-modern vernacular architecture may be not so distant from our era. Interestingly, even the pioneer of modern architecture, Le Corbusier, achieved his success in promenade architecturale by adopting the pre-modern vernacular legacy. This research will continue to investigate the detailed mechanism of this contrast in architectural progress.

Notes to Chapter 2

1 To name a few: Itō Chūta’s A History of Chinese Architecture; Liang, Ssu-ch’eng and Fairbank, Wilma, A Pictorial History of Chinese Architecture; Yu, Xuecai et al., Zhongguo lidai jianzhuzhi 中国历代名建筑志 [The record of historical famous Chinese architecture] (Wuhan: Hubei jiaoyu chubanshe, 2015). 2 For instance Yang, Tao, Evolution of Architecture form and the Development of Science and Technology (Beijing: Zhongguo jianzhu gongye chubanshe, 2013); Bai, Lijuan 白丽娟 and Wang, Jingfu 王景福, eds., Zhongguo gujian yingzao jishu congshu 中国古建筑营造技术丛书 [A series of the construction techniques in Chinese historical architecture] (Beijing: Zhongguo jiancai gongye chubanshe, 2014); Lou, Qingxi 楼庆西, ed., Zhongguo gudai jianzhu zhuangshi wushu 中国古代建筑装饰五书 [Decoration in Chinese Ancient Architecture] (Beijing: Qinghua daxue chubanshe, 2011); Sun, Dazhang 孙大章, Zhongguo gudai jianzhu zhuangshi 中国古代建筑装饰 [Decoration and ornamentation in Chinese traditional architecture], 1st ed. (Beijing: Zhongguo jianzhu gongye chuanshe, 2015). 3 For instance Li, Yunhe 李允稣, Huaxia Yijiang: Zhongguo Gudian Jianzh Sheji Yuanli Fenxi 华夏意匠：中国古典建筑设计原理分析 [Cathay’s Idea: Design Theory of Chinese Classical Architecture]; Sheng, Shu, Lidai jianzhu yishu 历代建筑艺术 [The art of Chinese architecture through dynasties] (Chengdu: Sichuan renmin chubanshe, 2009). 4 Frampton, Kenneth, The Evolution of 20th Century Architecture: A Synoptic Account (New York: Springer, 2007); Friedman, Alice T., American Glamour and the Evolution of Modern Architecture (New Haven, Conn., London: Yale University Press, 2010); Hastings, Thomas, “The Evolution of Style in Modern Architecture,” The North American Review 191, no. 651 (1910); Giedion, Sigfried, Space, Time and Architecture: the Growth of a New Tradition (Harvard University Press, 1967). 5 See Shanxizhouyuan Kaogudui [Zhou Yuan Shanxi Archaeological Team], “Shanxi Qishan Fengchucun Xizhou jianzhu jizhi fajue jianbao [Brief report on the excavation of Western Zhou dynasty architectural relics, Fengchu Village, Qi Mountain, Shanxi Province],” Wen Wu 文物 [Cultural Relics] 10 (1979). 6 “楹，天子丹，诸侯黝，大夫苍” Yang, Shixun 杨士勋 and Fan, Ning 范宁, Chunqiu gu liang zhuan 春秋-谷梁传 [A commentary on the annals of the Spring and Autumn period] (Shandong huabao chubanshe, 2013 (first published between 206 BCE–9 CE)), 100. 7 “礼﹐天子之檞﹐斫之砻之﹐加密石焉…诸侯之檞，斫之砻之。大夫诸侯之檞，斫之，士斫本” ibid., 101. 8 Dongfang, Shu 东方朔 and Yang, Liang 杨倞, Xun Zi 荀子 (Shanghai shiji chuban jituan, 2010), 126. 9 “萧墙：照壁” from Zhongguo Shehui Kexue Yuyan Yanjiusuo Cidian Bianjishi 中国社会科学院语言研究所词典编辑室 [The Dictionary Department of the CASS Institute of Linguistics], Xiandai hanyu cidian 现代汉语词典 [Modern Chinese dictionary], 5th ed. (Beijing: Shangwu yinshu guan, 2005), s.v. “萧墙”, 1494. 10 Ibid., s.v. “墙”,1096. 11 Wang, Junrong 王君荣, Xu, Yiping 许頣平 and Chen, Zihe 程子和, Tujie yangzhai shishu 图解阳宅十书 [Fengshui for the built environment] (Huaning chubanshe, 2010), 277. Also see in Han Feizi, and Dexunmiaobei, and Ganshi. 12 “萧墙，谓屏也。萧之言肃也，君臣相见之礼，至屏而加肃静焉，是以谓之萧墙” from He, Yan 何晏, Kongxue sanzhong Lunyu jieji yishu 孔学三种论语解集义疏 (Zhonghua shuju, 1935). Translated by the author. 13 Liu, Xi 刘熙, Shiming 释名 [Explanations of terminologies] (Zhonghua shuju, 1939); Li, Fang 李昉, Taiping yulan 太平御览 [A series of books edited in the Taiping period and read by Emperor Taizong of the Song dynasty] (Zhonghua shuju, 2011). 14 “臣来朝君…行至门内屏外，复应思惟，罘罳言复思也” from Cui, Bao 崔豹, Gu jin zhu 古今注 [An interpretation of classics] (Liaoning jiaoyu chubanshe, 1998). Translated by the author. 15 Dai, Wei, Guosue yuandian daodu 国学原典导读 [Sinology classics review-etiquette]: Jingli 谨礼 [Salute] (Bashu shushe, 2003), 122. 16 Li is important in China. It can be understood as etiquette, proper behaviour or ritual propriety. 17 Leys, Simon, trans., The Analects of Confucius (New York: WW Norton, 1997), 13. 80

18 Deng, Chun 邓椿, Hua Ji 画继 (Renmin meishu chubanshe, 1964), 119. 19 Tang, Guizhang, ed., Quan Song ci 全宋词 [The annotated corpus of the Song dynasty] (Zhonghua shuju, 1965). 20 Qi is similar to the Greek pneuma. Qi has many broad meanings in Chinese culture. 21 Guo, Pu 郭璞, Zang shu 葬书 [Book of burial] (Huaning chubanshe, 2010), 358–59 Translated by Stephen L. Field. 22 Guo, Book of Burial, 588-92, 96-98; Major, John S., Heaven and Earth in Early Han Thought: Chapters Three, Four and Five of the Huainanzi (Sunny Press, 1993), 28-31. 23 Tai Ping Jing 太平经 [Daoist Classic] (Zhonghua shuju, 2013 (first Published in the Han dynasty)). 24 Knapp, Ronald G., China’s Living Houses: Folk, Beliefs, Symbols, and Household Ornamentation (University of Hawaii Press, 1999), 68. 25 Wang, Junrong 王君荣, Xu, Yiping 许頣平 and Chen, Zihe 程子和, Tujie yangzhai shishu 图解阳宅十书 [Fengshui for the built environment]. 26 Knapp, Ronald G., China’s Living Houses, 68-72. 27 Pillsbury, Adam, The Insider’s Guide to Beijing 2005-2006 (True Run Media, 2008); Wang, Zhenhong and Chen, Qianyu, “The Meaning of Screen Wall in Folk House,” Shanxi Architecture 33, no. 11 (2007). 28 According to the author’s fieldwork. 29 For example, the symbols of turtle and pine tree represent long life; the peony and deer represent wealth. 30 Historical literature does not explain the location of the Bai’s zhaobi. According to the craftsman Li Guanwen and villagers whom the author interviewed during the fieldwork, lighting and blocking the wind are the locals’ primary concerns. 31 In ancient China, the zither and crane (a bird) are not luxuries, but are generally regarded as elegant and graceful. 32 Tuo Tuo 脱脱 and A Lutu 阿鲁图, Song Shi 宋史 [History of Song] (c. 1346 CE); Shen, Kuo 沈括 , Meng xi bi tan 梦溪笔谈 [Dream pool essays] (Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2013); also see Inscription on the painting titled Zhao Bian with His Zither and Crane. 33 The number of generations may have been exaggerated, but that is not important to the theme of the study. 34 The population data is from Census Office of the State Council, Zhongguo diwuci renkou pucha de zhuyao shuju 中国第五次人口普查的主要数据 [Data from the fifth population census in China] (Beijing: ZhongguoTongji Press, 2000). 35 Zhang, Zhenke, “Lacustrine Records of Human Activities in the Catchment of Erhai Lake, Yunnan Province,” Acta Geographica Sinica 55, no. 1 (2000). 36 Yang, Zhonglu, The Treatise on Culture in the Nanzhao Kingdom (Yunnan renmin chubanshe, 1991); Yang， Aimin, “Reconsideration of the Causes of the Tianbao War,” Journal of Kunming Teachers College 30, no. 1 (2008) : 64-67. 37 Duan, Yuming 段玉明, Dali guoshi 大理国史 [A history of Dali Kingdom] (Yunnan renmin chubanshe, 2003) , 66-92. 38 Zhang, Jinpeng 张金鹏 and Cun, Yunji 寸云激, Baizu juju xingshi de shehuirenleixue yanjiu 白族聚居形式的社会人类学研究 [A social anthropological study on the inhabitant form of the Bai] (Yunan meishu chubanshe, 2002), 97. 39 Shi, Fan, Dian Xi—Dian Gu Xi Liu—Mu Ying Zhuan 滇系•典故系六•沐英传 (1808), 32. 40 For rich meanings and diversity beyond architectural forms also see Xie, Jing, “The Diversity of Urban Life and Form: A Historical Study of the Urban Transformation in Tang-Song China and Nineteenth-Century England” (PhD Thesis, 2012). 41 Le Corbusier and Jeanneret, Pierre, Œuvres Complètes 1929-1934, 24. 42 For more detailed components of promenade architecturale see Baltanás, José, Le Corbusier, Promenades (Barcelona: Editorial Gustavo Gili, 2005); Giedion, Sigfried, Space, Time and Architecture: the Growth of a New Tradition (Harvard University Press, 1967). 43 Le Corbusier and Jeanneret, Pierre, Œuvres Complètes 1929-1934, 24. 44 Le Corbusier’s original name is Charles-Édouard Jeanneret-Gris. He adopted Le Corbusier as a pseudonym in 1920. The name ‘Jeanneret’ in this study refers to the young Corbusier. 45 “a real promenade architecturale” from ibid. 46 Le Corbusier, Žaknić, Ivan and Pertuiset, Nicole, Journey to the East (MIT Press, 2007), 20. 81

47 Stanislaus von Moos, Le Corbusier, Elements of a Synthesis (Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge, Mass. MIT Press, 1979). 48 Le Corbusier, Žaknić, Ivan and Pertuiset, Nicole, Journey to the East, xvi. 49 Vogt, Adolf Max and Donnell, Radka, “Remarks on the ‘Reversed’ Grand Tour of Le Corbusier and Auguste Klipstein,” Assemblage (1987). 50 Le Corbusier, Žaknić, Ivan and Pertuiset, Nicole, Journey to the East, 19. 51 Le Corbusier, Le voyage d’Orient, 23. 52 Le Corbusier, Žaknić, Ivan and Pertuiset, Nicole, Journey to the East, 23. 53 Ibid., 23–24. 54 Ibid., 88. 55 Ibid., 90. 56 Ibid. 57 Ibid., 100. 58 Le Corbusier, La Ville Radieuse, 230. 59 Corbusier must have gained access to some enclosed courtyards in Ghardaïa because he used some sketches of the interior of enclosed courtyards to describe this place, rather than relying on postcards as he had when describing other places in Algeria. See ibid. 60 Ibid., 230–32. 61 Ibid., 232. 62 Ibid., 230. 63 Wittmann, Gerda-Elisabeth, “When Loves Shows Itself as Cruelty: The Role of the Fairy Tale Stepmother in the Development of the Under-aged Reader,” Mousaion 29, no. 3 (2011). 64 Memarian, G. H. and Brown, Frank, “The Shared Characteristics of Iranian and Arab Courtyard Houses,” Courtyard Housing: Past, Present and Future, Taylor and Francis, New York (2006). 65 Ibid. 66 Al-Hilali, Muhammad Taqi-ud-Din and Khan, Dr Muhammad Muhsin, The Noble Qur’an (Maktaba Dar-us-Salam, 1993), 27. 67 Hadith—Bukhari (#1081). 68 Hadith—Sahih Bukhari 9:38.2, Narrated by Sahl bin Sa’d As-Sa’idi. 69 Ertuğ, Ahmet, ed., Space and Tradition: Turkish Architecture, Kūkan to dentō (Tokyo: Process Architecture Publishing Co, 1981). 70 Oliver, Paul, Encyclopedia of Vernacular Architecture of the World. 71 Ibid. 72 Le Corbusier and Jeanneret, Pierre, Œuvres Complètes 1929-1934, 61. 73 Le Corbusier, Précisions sur un état présent de l’architecture et de l’urbanisme (Éditions Vincent, Fréal, 1930), 136. 74 For more details and expressions, see Le Corbusier—promenades, Elements of the Architectural Promenade in Corbusier in Detail, and Space, time and architecture. Baltanás, José, Le Corbusier, Promenades; Samuel, Flora, Le Corbusier in Detail (Routledge, 2007); Giedion, Sigfried, Space, Time and Architecture: the Growth of a New Tradition. 75 Ricoeur, Paul, History and Truth (Northwestern University Press, 1965), 277. 76 Küçükerman, Önder, Turkish House in Search of Spatial Identity: Kendi Mekâninin Arayisi içinde Türk evi (Türkiye Turing ve Otomobil Kurumu, 1988). 77 Dreup, Heinrich, Prostashaus und Pastashaus, Zur Typologie des griechischen Hauses (Marburger Winkelmannprogramn, 1967) 6-7. 78 Janson, Horst Woldemar and Janson, Anthony F., History of Art: the Western Tradition (Prentice Hall Professional, 2003). 79 Erdemgil, Selahattin, Ephesus (NET, Turistik Yayınlar, 1993), 10-12. 80 Scherrer, Peter, Ephesus: The New Guide (Ege, 2000), 20-21. 81 Wiplinger, Gilbert et al., Ephesus: 100 Years of Austrian Research (Böhlau, 1996). 82 Lawless, Richard I., “The Lost Berber Villages of Eastern Morocco and Western Algeria,” Man (1972). 83 L Voinot, Note sur les tumuli et quelques vestiges d’anciennes agglomérations de la région d’Oudjada (Oran Impr. L. Foulque, 1913); De Alexandre Joly, Répartition et caractère des vestiges anciens dans l’Atlas Tellien ouest oranais et dans les steppes oranaises et algézaires (typographie Adolphe Jourdan). 84 MacDonald, William Lloyd, McAllister, Marian Holland and Stillwell, Richard, The Princeton Encyclopedia of Classical Sites (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976). 82

85 Mileto, Camilla et al., Earthen Architecture: Past, Present and Future (CRC Press, 2014); Hale, Dana S., Races on Display: French Representations of Colonized Peoples, 1886-1940 (Indiana University Press, 2008); Çelik, Zeynep, “Framing the Colony: Houses of Algeria Photographed,” Art History 27, no. 4 (2004). 86 Le Corbusier, Towards a New Architecture (Courier Corporation, 1931).

3 Chapter 3: The Production Process: Architectural Progress and Collective Memories

Chapter 2 concluded that, architectural progress does not necessarily rely on physical changes, but can be achieved through an evolving culture attached to largely stable and entrenched built forms. Such cultures involved a variety of subjects such as rituals, laws, poems, folklore, conventions and designations. It defined both the way of using architecture and the meaning represented by the architecture.

This chapter will study the process that this architectural evolution was sustained in pre-modern China. More specifically speaking, it looks at how tangible changes to architecture were restricted by the pre-modern culture. After analysing the underlying culture and the design and construction process in pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture, this study will conclude that collective design and construction played an essential role in this relationship. Collective design and construction in pre-modern China were underpinned by two important factors: the ethic of building and the balance of power between those who took part in the collective design and construction.

In pre-modern China, building ethics emphasised that the blind pursuit of material innovation was morally lacking in value and was believed to be risky. This ethic not only delivered a particular standard of craftsmen, but also influenced the mainstream values of people from commoners to the ruling class. There are many historical records that examine this ethic in pre-modern China, to name some representative works, Yijing, Huainanzi, Benjing xun, Shang shu, Mozi, and The Tang Code,1 but no holistic study exists that draws on these records under the ethic of building and further uses this ethical system to explain the slow physical evolution of pre-modern Chinese architecture. Regarding how the pre-modern Chinese ethic of building played out in practice, this study investigates the production process of buildings in pre-modern communities. Through analysing this process including a range of construction rituals, the study suggests that the

power balance between the participants in the collective design and construction was the key nexus between nonmaterial culture and architecture.

Many previous studies focus on collective design and construction. They mainly fall into two categories. One popular category focuses on how to exploit computer technology and the internet to establish a platform to promote modern collective design. 2 The ultimate aim of this strand is to boost innovation by exploiting collective intelligence. Both the perspective and the aim of this category of research are not relevant to this thesis. The other category investigates the role of traditional construction rituals. Xing Ruan’s fieldwork and analysis indicates that collective construction rituals effectively promoted the meanings that were attached to architecture. 3 Ruan lucidly explains how construction rituals acted as the connexion between nonmaterial culture and architecture. The reason for highlighting these two elements is because, based on the conclusion of Chapter 2 conclusion, nonmaterial culture and architecture played crucial roles in the evolution of architecture in pre-modern China.

Apart from the pre-modern Chinese ethic of building, the study highlighted that there was a mechanism of balanced power between the different participants. It effectively restricted the free pursuit of individual innovation, but in a congenial way. Here the term used to describe relationship among them is ‘the balance of power’, which is borrowed from Kegley and Witkopf’s analysis of international relations. It initially refers to an equilibrium where military power is distributed so evenly that no country is powerful enough to dominate the others. This balanced power is believed to offer safety and more stability. 4 In this study, the balance of power refers to the state of relations between the different participants in pre-modern collective design and construction projects. The balance was achieved through rituals and folklore which endowed each participant with a share of power so that no individual could dominate the others. This balance contributed to the stability of the architectural form, leaving scant opportunity for significant tangible changes. This angle of study for pre-modern collective design and construction by analysing interpersonal relations is also inspired by Victor Turner’s research on the ritual process. Turner’s research involved rituals from birth to death of the Ndembu in

Zambia.5 The focus of this research is on construction rituals and relevant folklore. By applying Turner’s perspective to Kegley and Witkophf theory on balance of power, this study aims to gain an insight into how architectural forms were maintained during the collective design and construction process in pre-modern China.

Based on the conclusion drawn in the first half of this chapter, the second half (Section 3.2) further investigates collective practices of an architect. This section of research reflects how the seemingly collective design or construction process is different from its pre-modern counterpart. Under the modern ideology of progress, it is very difficult to truly practice collectively or exploit the potency of collectiveness. Consequently, the pre-modern social system, which could sustain architecture and evolve through the renewal of an intangible cultural heritage based on the stable built form, is fading from contemporary society.

Section 3.1 shows that the collective construction of a building in the pre-modern community provides a communal authority to ensure the least unnecessary upgrade and novelty adopted in the new building. At the same time, this ritualised process shows that construction is not only about building a new structure, but is also about community engagement. Section 3.2 shows that if local engagement and collective construction is only a superficial participation, its authoritative function upon the new building will be weakened. It would not contribute to a collective memory either.

3.1 Collectiveness and Discouraged Novelty

For pre-modern craftsmen, there was no specific design phase, all the work was integrated into the construction process. It seems that innovation of architectural form was not a necessity during the collective construction process. As pointed out by Joseph Rykwert, the seemingly repetitive nature of vernacular architecture went far beyond novelty of styles. Rykwert makes a comparison between peasants and urban dwellers in their pursuit of style and comments that

by having roots which grew deep into earthy necessity, this assurance guaranteed that form, visible form, was never perverted or twisted—as it was by the rootless urban dweller ever searching for a style.6

Moreover, the substitute for the pursuit for material novelty was a quest for profound realization and cognition. According to Rykwert, the difference in design methods between the collective and individual dominated processes could be the main reason for the different attitudes towards styles. ‘Loos equates style with ornaments; even more with a self-conscious desire for novelty, the indulgence of individual caprice’. This stands in stark contrast with the collective situation in vernacular architecture, where ancestral tradition was appreciated.

More than an ‘earthy necessity’, this case study demonstrates that the collective design and construction process was a mechanism important in sustaining the physical form of pre-modern vernacular architecture. The process not only reduced the influence of ‘individual caprice’, but also shifted the influence of architecture away from style to a broader domain. This included how to maintain interpersonal relationships, how to convey messages via architectural media instead of words, and how to rally different people. As a result, ‘architectural progress’ seemed then to be endowed with more complex and profound meanings than today. These meanings seem to be closer to the concept of ‘sustainability’ in modern times.

This study traces back the history of the formation of craftsmen’s identity and the ethics that accompanied their temporary role. Indeed, these craftsmen were peasants in ordinary life when they were not participating in design and construction. Special identities were forged through a comprehensive process during the collective design and construction process. This included acquiring appropriate behaviour patterns, being assigned specific tasks, and assuming corresponding rights and duties. There were no written rules for such temporarily organized groups, so all was conveyed through rituals and architectural media rather than written codes.

Within a community, a non-written convention was established that once a family needed to build a house, other families would send labourers to help. Labourers

were volunteers or paid a small fee. It was a reciprocal mechanism that had been formed over time. Families usually kept private records of theirs and others’ working hours for a fair exchange of labour. 7 When the mechanism became official, specific terms were used. This kind of labour was called banggong 帮工 which literally means labour assistance or huangong 换工 which literally means labour exchange.

Even though the craftsmen who participated in building vernacular architecture were ordinary peasants, skilful craftsmen were regarded as special people who had ‘magic power’, so they hosted rituals on some important occasions of construction process, such as starting the carpentry and raising the central beam. Architecture for pre-modern craftsmen in China went far beyond the material building in itself, and it was laden with rich meanings. Innovation was not the craftsmen’s priority—it was not even admired.8

The study suggests that there were two forces imposing restrictions upon craftsmen, and they gradually shaped a very different connection between innovation and architectural progress from that of modern times. The two restrictions were the ethics of craftsmen and the controls exerted by other participants of the process. Because of these restrictions, sustained architectural forms were more admired than tangible changes. The emphasis instead was on gathering people together and maintaining their interpersonal ties during the collective design and construction process.

3.1.1 The Ethics of Building

Innovation, especially when based on individual caprice, was thought extravagant and even immoral in pre-modern China. Wasting time, money or energy on useless decoration or arbitrary innovation was an immoral behaviour. Focusing on practical value and avoiding being distracted by the pursuit of novelty were regarded as a great virtue for a craftsman. As early as the pre-Qin dynasty (before 221 BCE), thrift was recognised as a general moral asset. This expectation of good character was not restricted to craftsmen and plebeians, it also was applied to rulers and indeed the emperor. 88

This study finds that various means were applied to propagate the notion that spending energy and time on creating tempting novelties was wasteful, because they were regarded as frivolous indulgences for residents and craftsmen. This idea was first conceived by intellectuals then propagated among the working classes through legends and folklore. Soon after, corresponding laws and standards were enacted. As early as the Spring and Autumn period, the influential politician and philosopher Guan Zi was developing this idea. He pointed out that no matter how skilful a craftsman might be, he should not be addicted to fancy styles, because fancy buildings or craftwork would spoil the population and introduce an extravagant lifestyle. Therefore, a moral craftsman would not produce novel and attractive works that were impractical.9 Guan Zi showed particular concern over the pernicious influence being exerted by attractive novelty. He proposed that people using novel crafts or buildings to captivate the emperor should be punished and even exiled or sentenced to death.10

Kaogongdian 考工典 is one of the most comprehensive series of books on Chinese traditional design theories and coding. It clarified the principle that materials should be efficiently used, that craftsmen should be cautious in applying appropriate standards and avoid overindulgence.11 Showpieces and impractical works were discouraged. Instead, craftsmen were required to check carefully the order and quality of their work. The code warned craftsmen that they must not waste materials and indulge in individualism. 12 Since the Spring and Autumn period, there had been a decree that craftsmen should carve their names on their works. 13 This rule was termed wule gongming 物勒工名 (works should be with the craftsman’s name). In the laws of the Tang dynasty, it was clearly ruled that carving names of craftsmen on their works was compulsory, to show their contribution. For works of improper or bad quality, the craftsman would be regarded as an offender and punished under law. 14 Accordingly, craftsmen preferred to put more effort into the quality of their works and adhering to tradition, than into pursuing originality.

This study stresses how one consistent theme pervades a series of legends about the great craftsmen. These stories were varied, but they shared a common motif that material innovation was risky and deluded. Craftsmen could immerse

themselves in pursuing novelty, but they ran the risk of incurring an unfortunate fate. For example, Chao Ye Qian Zai 朝野佥载, a collection of stories of the Tang and Sui dynasties, tells how a famous craftsman made a magic timber eagle. This creation was very ingenious, because the eagle could take off once it was knocked three times. This craftsman rode the timber eagle to the place where he wanted to go. He used it as a vehicle to visit his wife, as he worked far from home, and his wife finally fell pregnant.

Inventions may not always bring happiness. The craftsman paid the cost for his novel object—the magic timber eagle. The craftsman’s parents lived with his wife at home but did not know of their son’s regular visits, so they felt concerned with the pregnancy and asked his wife. The wife then told the father about the craftsman’s magic wooden eagle. The curious father found the eagle and sat on it. The father knocked the eagle more than ten times, so the eagle carried the father far away to the territory of another state, Wu. People of Wu took the father landing from the sky for a devil, so they beat the craftsman’s father to death.15

Another legend was recorded by Wang Chong16 in his book, Luheng 论衡. It tells how a skilful craftsman made a carriage that could be automatically driven by a puppet. The craftsman sent the carriage to his mother as a present, but unfortunately, the carriage was driven away by the puppet with the mother in it. As the carriage had never returned, his mother was never seen again. 17 In the classical book, Mo Zi, a talk between Mo Zi and the famous craftsman, Gongshu Ban, ran along the same lines. Gongshu Ban made a wooden magpie which could fly for three days without landing, and Gongshu Ban was proud of his magic. Mo Zi argued that such works lacked practical value and should not be celebrated. Instead Mo Zi was more willing to praise the carpenter who could use the same amount of timber to make a good quality wheel so that it could be used to transport heavy goods.18

There was a rule calling for a boycott on material innovation. This is reflected by an idiom used to describe works that are seductive but not of benefit to one’s morality. The idiom is qiji yinqiao 奇技淫巧 (diabolic tricks and wicked crafts). In

Shangshu：taishi 尚书·泰誓下 (Book of Documents: Great Speech (part 3)), the emperor of the Shang dynasty was criticised for being a fatuous ruler. The book emphasises how the emperor enjoyed using novel works to please beautiful ladies.19 This behaviour was regarded as symptomatic of an extravagant life. Kong Yingda (574–648 CE) annotated the meaning of each word. qiji 奇技 means strange skills and yinqiao 淫巧 means pursuing difference and novelty. 20

In the Qing dynasty, this term qiji yinqiao was associated with patriotism and was utilized as a political tool. When products from overseas were imported into China, the conservative wing of the government thought that the attractive but exotic commodities from abroad would affect Chinese ideology and ruin the Chinese economy, thus they tagged these goods as objects of qiji yinqiao. Guan Tong 管同 (1780-1831) reminded people of the potential harm of these commodities, writing in his Jinyong yanghuo yi 禁用洋货议 (A Proposal of Banning Imported Commodities) that in the old times when sagacious emperors were on the throne, there were strict rules upon crafts. Craftsmen who tried to pursue qiji yinqiao could be severely punished.21 Guan Tong cited history, and said that the term was used to incite in people a passion to fight against the novel and attractive goods imported from abroad.

To avoid pursuing material novelty was not only regarded as a virtue for craftsmen, but also was generally applied in all walks of life, even including by the emperor. Shangshu suggests that if the emperor was able to value practical objects rather than novel works, the country would save considerable amounts of money so the people could live a better life. 22 If one indulged in material pleasure, such as ordering the construction of luxury buildings, one’s ambitions would be frustrated. Similarly, if one deceived people, one’s morality would be in jeopardy. 23 Guan Zi 管子 (719–645 BCE) also pointed out that, even though there were enough skilful craftsmen, people still felt there was a lack of accommodation. This was because the rulers did not set a good role model and indulged in funding new and luxury construction projects. Rulers, especially emperors, should avoid indulging in novelties.24 Sensual pleasures could be alluring, but if rulers managed the treasury of a country in their own self-interest, people would suffer and the country would 91

be in trouble. 25 Mo Zi also stated that expanding territories and gaining more wealth was only one way of improving the economy, he encouraged kings also to be thrifty. Mo Zi praised thrift as a great virtue, saying architecture should guarantee basic needs and morality rather than pursue novelty. 26

Along with the idea of renouncing luxury and impractical novelty in architecture, the profound realization and moral pursuit conveyed by architecture were highly admired. The material and nonmaterial components of craftwork were distinguished by using different words. The physical and tangible part was called qi 器 (tools or objects) and the philosophical and intangible part attached to the objects was called dao 道. These two terms come from Xici 系辞 commentary of the Yijing 易经 (Classic of Changes or Book of Changes). The definitions appeared in the book and their relationship was explained. Dao fits the Western interpretation of ‘metaphysics’. Yijing defines that dao is on a higher plane than the real world. ‘Dao is above, an abstract world and ultimate reality’. 27 ‘形而上者谓之道，形而下者谓之器’ 28 (Qi, tools or material objects, refers to the concrete things of this world. Qi is below). In later books, such as Er Cheng quanshu 二程全书 (The Book of Cheng Hao 程顥 and Cheng Yi 程颐) and Shengshi weiyan 盛世危言 (Fragile Prosperity), the relationship between qi and dao was further explained. ‘道为本，器为末’ 29 (Dao was regarded as the essence, while qi was treated as the arms and legs). Similarly, the meanings, philosophy and morality conveyed by architecture were more admired than its physical form.

In pre-modern China, industries were classified according to their consumption of resources. Agriculture was regarded as the essence of the country, while other industries relating to crafts such as architecture were treated as moye 末业 (the lowest hierarchy of trade). Within architecture, building public infrastructure, especially defence facilities such as city walls and moats, was prioritized, but residential buildings, especially palaces, were morally regarded as least important. Mo Zi proposed that rulers should pay most attention to agriculture and treat it as the primary industry. He believed that construction projects were major devourers of the national treasury and therefore in need of stringent control.30 Other influential

thinkers and politicians who held the same opinion include Han Feizi 韩非子 and Shang Yang 商鞅. They proposed policies to boost agriculture and restrain other industries such as construction. 31 Han Feizi established a solid theoretical foundation for the principle of ‘重本抑末论’ (a theory of boosting the primary industry and restraining the minor ones). Shang Yang applied the idea to the development of the State of Qin.32 This state later gained power and finally unified China, making way for the Qin dynasty. After gaining tremendous traction in practice, the idea gradually became a deep-rooted ideology in pre-modern China and was passed on to later dynasties.33

The ideological foundation behind the rejection of luxury buildings led to the real progress experienced by ordinary people. The idea can be found in various sources, from textbooks to allegories. For example, Zengguang xianwen 增广贤文 (Enlarged Writings of Worthies: A Collection of Chinese Proverbs) was an education book for children. In the book, among a list of precepts, it provided the standard for assessing architecture ‘勿营华屋，勿作营巧’ 34 (do not build luxury buildings and do not create useless decoration). Similarly, Huainanzi: benjing xun 淮南子：本经训 displays an ideal image of the residential environment. It tells how in olden times respectable, saintly ancestors could, in a delicate but thrifty way, pursue morality and fulfil their basic needs. 35 Without luxury ornamentation or decoration, being sheltered in a moral way was very simple. A good house should never be overbuilt. Harmful moisture from the land, rainfall and haze from the sky should be kept out of the room, and all four sides should protect the interior from strong winds. This should be sufficient. There was no need for decoration or any change to the landform for the building. The woodwork and other elements used for construction should neither be elaborately processed nor over decorated. The hall did not need to be large, just sufficient for conducting rituals and holding liturgies. The rooms should be sufficiently quiet and clean for sacrifices to the high gods and for ceremonies devoted to the spirits and deities.36 The book further warns against extravagant accessories, which spoil people and ruin their spirits: 声色五味，远国珍怪，瑰异奇珍，足以变心易志，摇荡精神，感动血气

者，不可胜计也。 37 Now, sounds, colours, and the five flavours,

precious and strange things from distant courtiers, things that are extraordinary, different, and surprising are enough to cause alterations and changes in the heart and will, agitate and unsettle one’s essence and spirit, and stir up the blood and the qi so that it becomes impossible to keep control of them.38

Practicing thrift not only related to economic development, but also was a way of showing respect to the deity in charge of resources. This idea was apparent in the rites for preparing construction materials and the site. Skilful craftsmen were regarded as people who had magic powers, and would host these rites. So beyond mastering construction skills, traditional craftsmen also needed to learn and recite conventional prayers in construction rituals.39

Depending on the structure of traditional houses, two main materials would be used. One was timber and the other was earth. The beginning of a construction project, dongtu 动土仪式 (the rite for starting earthwork) would be the first important stage. The deity of earth should be informed that there would be a construction project. People would also pray to the deity of earth to bless the safety of craftsmen and the prosperity of the owner’s family. In order to keep harmony with the earth and natural elements, the location of the construction site would be decided according to fengshui. The final stage of a construction project was anlongxietu 安龙谢土, the rite for calming the dragon and acknowledging the earth because the construction may disturb them.40

To show respect to the deity of wood, there were some other rites. The ritual of yuanmu jiama 圆木架马 (starting of carpentry and assembling the trestle) marked that the deity of wood would be invited. The timber for the central beam atop the main hall was the most important component. A trestle would be set up to fix the timber. Following the growth pattern of the timber, it was better for the top of the tree to face north and for the root end to face south. A piece of wood would be sawn off from the selected timber prepared for the central beam. Four characters, yuanmu daji 圆木大吉 (auspicious starting of carpentry) would be written on the piece of wood. Craftsmen would burn joss sticks in front of the timber and the

trestle, sending best wishes to the family of the house owner. Then this piece of wood would assume the incarnation of the deity of wood and be worshiped accordingly by the house owner. The foreman of the craftsmen would pass the piece of wood to the house owner. The family would reverentially place it on a sheltered altar. Then family members would worship the deity of wood through the piece of wood by offering sacrifices and burning joss sticks every day. On the eve of building the house, the deity of wood would be sent away. This rite was called song muqi 送木气 (sending the deity of wood away). Late at night when the street was empty, the piece of wood would be taken out quietly and sent to a place where there was water. 41 The rites conveyed the message that the resources and materials used for the construction were limited, that they had the divine attributes and should be respected. Wasting them would bring bad luck.

This study suggests that there are six aspects of vernacular architecture that characterized the restriction upon pursuing architectural progress through novel styles: first, the emphasis on thrift in material consumption; second, pursuing novelty in architectural form was regarded as extravagant and immoral; third, craftsmen were not encouraged to indulge themselves in pursuing novelty, but rather produce practical works of good quality; fourth, among all industries, construction was ranked as the least important because it consumed a large amount of resources; fifth, the underlying philosophy and morality were more important than physical forms in architecture; finally, the rites conducted during construction emphasised that resources and materials should be respected.

3.1.2 Balanced Power and Reciprocity

Skilful craftsmen were believed to have magic powers, but they were not almighty and they could not behave in isolation. Interaction and control from other participants was another means of restriction upon craftsmen.

The elaborate work of craftsmen was of more value to society than innovation. This was especially true among the working classes. In a series of similar legends, it can be seen that once a craftsman’s mistake caused some construction problems, he would be regarded as a person who should feel guilty or should be punished. 95

In the folklore that circulated in southwestern China, Lu Ban, the ancestor and master of craftsmen, was said to have been an escaped law breaker because he had made a mistake in the size of rafters of Junluan Temple which was an important imperial project. On his way escaping to a remote province, Lu Ban so regretted his mistake that he could not help beating his head. Lu Ban used a pen to stab out one of his eyes. Since then he could only use one eye when he drew lines. His apprentices mimicked him.42 From there comes this common habit often seen among craftsmen of using one eye to check if objects are precisely aligned.

Even though the folklore was of dubious historical accuracy, the idea itself reflected what was truly valued in the life of ordinary people in pre-modern China. First, carelessness and mistakes, rather than lack of originality, were regarded as fatal faults for traditional craftsmen. Second, craftsmen were treated the same as other participants. In folklore from different parts of China, famous craftsmen were all depicted as scruffy, forever hard working people who carried various tools. 43 Craftsmen worked among ordinary people. They were not superior to the other participants during the collective design and construction process.

House owners cared less about novel forms than about the luck the craftsmen could bring to the family through the newly built house. As mentioned before, skilful craftsmen were regarded as people with magic powers. They usually sent good wishes to the family through rites during the construction process, meaning that the newly built house was significant to the good luck of the family. For example, in the rite of yuanmu jiama 圆木架马 (starting the carpentry and assembling the trestle), the craftsmen’s foreman would say ‘auspicious starting, auspicious starting, the house owner will build a new house, Master Lu Ban please bless everything goes well …’44 The incantations chanted by the foreman during the ritual of raising the central beam were also wishes for happiness and wealth for the family.45

In addition to these incantations and the building materials prepared by the craftsmen, the tools used for construction were also thought to be auspicious objects. For example, modou 墨斗 (ink line, which was similar to chalk lines) and

Luban ruler were two important tools used by the pre-modern craftsmen in China. Even today, tools are still worshiped in the temple as meaningful symbols. In a temple, the tools were placed on the altar (Figure 3-1). Sacrificial offerings were laid on the altar. Mats for people to kneel and worship were placed in front. Beside the measurement units carved on Luban rulers, indications of auspiciousness were shown (Figure 3-2). Craftsmen used them to make sure that the house they made would bring the family good luck (Figure 3-2).

Figure 3-1 Ink lines and Luban Rule portrayed as sacred objects for worshiping, at Hongshan Benzhu Temple in Hongshan Village, China46 (photos by the author)

Figure 3-2 Luban Ruler and the way of using it shown by Mr. Zhang, in Nuodeng Village China (photos by the author)

Even the ink lines drawn by craftsmen were viewed as magic symbols. For example, a prominent scholar-official of the Qing dynasty Yu Yue 俞樾 undertook a study of the legends about the magic power of the ink lines drawn by craftsmen. Yu found that there was literature from different periods demonstrating that craftsmen could use their ink lines to subdue evil spirits.47 In the influential Chinese classic, Huainanzi, a detailed passage depicts how a group of brave craftsmen drew straight ink lines around a haunted coffin and finally subdued a ghost.

It was believed, however, that craftsmen could also bring a family bad luck, if they were unhappy with its behaviour. This belief had two effects. First, the superstition compelled house owners to be nice to the craftsmen. Secondly, it made some

house owners feel uneasy. Therefore, in pre-modern China, together with the literature about the magic power of craftsmen, there were writings about how to control or punish them.

Even though craftsmen were portrayed as gifted with magic power and able to bless architecture, they could not do whatever they pleased. There were many legends about other people also utilizing construction tools and other architectural means to prevent craftsmen from abusing their skills and magic power. Based on these legends, people developed conventions to inspect and control the behaviour of craftsmen. In pre-modern times, craftsmen were believed to be able to curse a house and affect the happiness of the owners. For example, an influential legend found in Yijianzhi 夷坚志 tells how a house owner named Wu Wenyan suffered from nightmares after moving into his newly-built house. After some time, he fell ill and could not get up. Then his son removed all the tiles and found seven paper dolls left deliberately by a craftsman.48 This gave rise to a tradition in the region of Wu: sons of the family were required to monitor the craftsmen when roofs were being tiled.49

Books, such as Bianmin tuzuan 便民图纂 (Everyman’s Handy Illustrated Compendium, 1493), Nongzheng quanshu 农政全书 (Whole Book on Agricultural Activities, 1573-1620 CE, with earlier contents originally written around 220–265 CE and 1279–1368 CE) and Qiudeng conghua 秋灯丛话 (Collected Discourses Under the Autumn Lamp, 1711-1799 CE), provided methods for dealing with craftsmen, especially to break their curse. House owners could appropriate the tools used by craftsmen to build up a trestle, placing all the tools in sequence on the day of raising the central beam. After the beam was raised, the house owner could ask all the craftsmen to step over the prepared objects. Craftsmen guilty of putting a curse would not dare to step across these specially arranged objects.50

Similarly, house owners could not do whatever they pleased because craftsmen might criticise their improper requirements. Improper building practices, such as excessive decoration51 and overlapping a conventional setback,52 would attract criticism, and the family would face pressure from the community.53

For example, villagers believed that it was house owners’ responsibility to guarantee that their newly built house would not exert any negative impact upon other existing houses in the neighbourhood. Also, before laying a foundation, house owners were expected to organize a dongtu yishi (动土仪式, ritual for breaking earth) in order to comfort the earth which would be dug soon after. Before conducting the ritual, house owners would tell villagers to prepare for a disturbance to the spirits of earth. In order to avoid being involved, villagers would place a pan of clean water, a knife and a broom in front of their own house. These objects were believed to be capable of preventing the disturbance from reaching them from any neighbouring house. After the ritual of ground-breaking was finished, the clean water could be poured away and other objects could be returned home.54

Another example was a proverb, ‘kongxin bu shuzhu 空心不竖柱 (void hearts could not erect columns)’. ‘Void hearts’ had two meanings: one was to describe the situation where inner hearts were not truly unified; the other suggested a state of physical hunger. This proverb hinted that hunger was no good for the ritual of erecting columns. A delicious breakfast was always expected from house owners for every participant on this day, so the housewife would get up very early and lead a group of helpers to prepare a big meal for those attending the ritual. Having breakfast together and chatting with each other made the time very enjoyable. Also, through this meal, villagers could gather the energy to perform the subsequent labouring work.

The study further suggests that despite some contents that were superstitious and extreme many rites during the collective construction process were conducted essentially to rally people. Large-scale rituals, such as erecting columns and raising the central beam were physically demanding, and the construction process could be stressful and tedious. But traditionally, house owners would prepare snacks and gifts to be delivered to the villagers through game-like rites endowed with different meanings. These rituals could help rally people, and keep them happy and full of energy. At the end of the ritual, when everyone was hungry and tired after a day’s labours and interactive rituals, house owners would prepare a

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feast for the villagers, which was called liushuixi 流水席 (literally means flowing feast, because it was served dish by dish, and each dish was shared by all).

Moreover, the rhythmic chant sung by craftsmen conveyed the idea of reciprocity.55 Powufang 破五方 (breaking through five56 cardinal orientations) was a culmination in the ritual of raising the central beam. Coins and steamed buns would be thrown down to the crowd from the top of the beam. Simultaneously, a craftsman, usually the foreman, would hammer the beam into place so as to fix it. People waiting beneath would try to retrieve the gifts, shouting and laughing. At this time, the foreman of craftsmen would intonate loudly ‘the sun rises and becomes a clump of flowers, shedding light onto house owners who are steaming buns …. Lu Ban is not covetous, returning ingot to house owners.’ 57 This chant was to express craftsmen’s appreciation to the house owner, conveying the idea that covetousness was immoral. Craftsmen were expected to send sincere best wishes, not materially motivated ones, to the house owners. Following the chant, the foreman of craftsmen would shout out ‘congratulations to house owners! Wish you long-life, happiness and wealth. Your house will be full of jade and gold!’ The house owner would come out and distribute the prepared buns to the appropriate people. Among them, the foreman of craftsmen would receive a large one. On receiving the house owner’s gift, the foreman would excitedly exclaim, ‘this bun smells so delicious it is as if I received a precious gift. I am the apprentice of Master Lu Ban. I will put the bun into my bag.’58

Finally, the custom of moving into the house showed how the house owner was expected to treat neighbours with respect.59 Conventionally, house owners needed to move into their new house at night, to avoid being seen by other villagers. The family would keep quiet and could only open the gate, sweep the floor and execute house chores after dawn. Even though there was no explanation given for this ritual, the reason why it was preserved may be because it could have a positive effect on the relationship between house owners and neighbours. This convention would serve to minimise the disturbance to neighbours by the move. Also the ritual was a good opportunity for the family to get together and have a homely meal, because during the long night the family was expected to cook and eat beans and

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rice in their new house. Apart from bringing beans and rice to the new house, another important ritual was to prepare a long green bamboo pole. This long pole meant the family would not be ‘shorter’60 or worse off than other villagers after moving into the new house.

3.1.3 Conclusion

This case study gains an insight into the collective craft culture in pre-modern China. It suggests that there were two mechanisms restricting individual caprice and guaranteeing stability in architecture. The first was the set of ethics of craftsmen in pre-modern China reflected by extant historical literature and the second was the mutual control mechanism of the collective construction process mainly based on observations on construction rituals. The study finds that collective craft culture in pre-modern China emphasise thrift. Material novelty or originality was not admired, but criticised. Beyond the pursuit of physical innovation, a range of moral and character traits were admired and expected in architecture. The collective construction process was not simply about construction, it was an important rallying process for different people. Participants devoted much of their attention to enjoying a close interpersonal relationship and properly applying the principle of reciprocity. The collective construction process was not only about architecture, but also about all the participants.

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3.2 Li Xiaodong: Between Collectiveness and Innovation

In this section, Li Xiaodong’s Yuhu Primary School, will be investigated. This case shows that the challenges of collective practice persist in contemporary contexts. In this case, the architect approached and directly invited a local community to engage in his project. This attempt has been widely recognised by his peers as exemplary collective practice and collaborative design. However, by comparing with vernacular collective examples it is evident that Li Xiaodong’s collective approaches had limitations. These limitations can be addressed by a closer understanding of traditional societies.

3.2.1 Acclaimed Innovation and Collective Practice

Li Xiaodong is a highly admired architect. His works were listed in the Times’ annual “Eight Green Buildings” in 2012, and Li was a laureate of the Aga Khan Award for Architecture in 2010. Yuhu Primary School is the project that brought Li to international fame and won him many awards. It is also a building that the architect completed together with the locals in Yuhu Village. Yuhu Primary School won the 2005 UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation, and the jury highly commended the local villagers’ participation in this project.61 It also won the 2004 Best Design Award at the EDRA (Environment Design and Research Association) Places Annual Awards. This prize also commended the project’s public participation aspect and its emphasis on the experiential relationship among people. 62 The design was considered both sustainable and progressive.63 The project also won honours at the 2005 AR+D Highly Recommended, the ARCASIA Awards 2005- 2006, and the 2006 BusinessWeek/Architectural Record China Awards.

Against the mainstream tendency for individual architects to dominate the design process but not participate in the construction, Yuhu Primary School stood out as an exception and appeared commendable for this. Its special construction process was not only acclaimed by mass media but was also the subject of academic papers, including one by the architect himself.64 David Moffat devoted much of his paper to acclaiming the joint efforts of the architect and the locals in building Yuhu Primary School. 65 In Redefining the Naxi Cultural—Space: Yuhu Elementary

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School and Community Centre in Lijiang, these joint efforts were also celebrated. It was reported that nearly 1300 villagers were involved.66

Besides practicing as an architect, Li Xiaodong is also a scholar and educator. He has a profound knowledge of architecture and admires the pre-modern way of collective design. Li was an associate professor at the National University of Singapore and is currently the director and a professor at Tsinghua University’s School of Architecture.

Inspired by aforementioned merits, a field trip was undertaken to Yuhu Village. The current stage of the building, however, shows that collectiveness did not perform as effectively as in a pre-modern community. Some problems could have been avoided if relevant local knowledge and experience had been applied to the construction of the building. This study will expose these problems and point out different approaches taken by the locals in their own vernacular buildings. This study suggests that the pervasive expectation for tangible innovation in architecture usually consumes much of the architects’ attention and energy. As a result, it is difficult to take full advantage of collective design and construction.

3.2.2 Innovations and Local Methods

The modern ideology of progress in architecture has exerted a ubiquitous influence. Even thoughtful architect and scholar Li Xiaodong has felt its deep influence. When interviewed, he placed particular emphasis on architectural innovation. Li expressed how disappointed and worried he felt when he found there were few new changes in his students’ designs.67 Li regarded architecture that lacks innovation as a form of plagiarism and called for originality.68

It is a common aspiration of today’s architects’ to work unhindered so that individuals can give free rein to their talent. Li has also expressed this preference in an interview. He said that he preferred to be in control himself, and does not like to be restricted or under external pressure.69 While individual initiative can be a precondition for achieving tangible innovation, this thesis argues that mutual control between different participants of collective design and construction is

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significant in avoiding unnecessary physical changes. Furthermore, different meanings can be conferred to the architecture through the collective design and construction process instead of through material changes to a building.

On the surface, the Yuhu Primary School building was similar in appearance to the local vernacular buildings (Figure 2-20). There is no lack of articles acclaiming this virtue in Yuhu Primary School,70 but there are still some details that could have been improved upon if the locals had been more engaged and the architect less preoccupied with tangible innovations.

Figure 3-3 Left, a building of Yuhu Primary School; right, a vernacular house in Yuhu Village (photos by the author)

3.2.2.1 The layout and location In local traditional architecture, both private houses and public buildings were usually built as an enclosed courtyard. In Li’s design, the master plan was to creatively design a ‘z’ shape so that there would be two semi-open courtyards (Figure 3-4). Various media have singled out this z-shaped master plan of Yuhu Primary School as a commendable innovation. 71 Li used one courtyard to accommodate classrooms and the teachers’ rest room for the school. The other courtyard was designated as a community centre.

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In reality, however, it seems that neither of the two semi-open courtyards attracts as many people as the local traditional courtyard does. The community centre is left unused. The wing designed as a small museum is now used as a storage, and other areas do not function well, either (Figure 3-5). The other wing of the school was only used temporarily by Yuhu Primary School for a few months, and then left unused. During the time of this fieldwork, a kindergarten was using the classrooms, but it will move out once its own new building is completed.

Figure 3-5 Left, Empty exhibition area; right, spare furniture were piled up in the unused museum (photos by the author) 106

Local villagers recall that a square was needed to accommodate the local custom of gathering and dancing, but the community centre courtyard designed by Li was full of ponds and bridges, so it was not suitable for these activities. Another anticipated public facility was a place for villagers to banquet during the New Year. The courtyard as designed, however, could hardly play this role either.72 Because the building could not fulfil the villagers’ needs, another building, configured as a local courtyard house and called “Village Activity Centre of Yuhu”, was later built by the village (Figure 3-6).

Figure 3-6 A new village centre later built by the locals (photo by the author)

Another problem with this z-shaped layout is that the two semi-open courtyards formed pocket-like areas. This way of enclosure did not help the building fend off strong winds, it actually may have made things worse (Figure 3-7, Left). By contrast, the local vernacular house was built as an enclosed courtyard which sat west and faced east (Figure 3-7, Right). The village is located south of the summit of Yulong Snow Mountain along its eastern flank. Because of this topography, the wind through the village often travelled parallel to the mountain chain. The traditional vernacular house, with solid and heavy walls at the back and on both flanks, could help to fend off the wind. Moreover, instead of just one piece of solid wall, there were entire wings built along these edges, further consolidating the effect.

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The location and the entrance of the designed building might have been better if the local conventional customs had been properly considered. As an important public building of the village, it had sufficient priority for the villagers to choose a location to suit their convenience. Finally, however, instead of fronting the main street of the village, the designed building was placed next to a tourist observation point. This famous place was previously a residential house, so it was tucked deep down a side lane. It was the former residence of Dr. Joseph Francis Charles Rock, a writer and photographer for the National Geographic Magazine. He brought international attention to the region of Lijiang where Yuhu Village was located. More and more tourists were attracted to visit there. Now the residence’s house has been refurbished as a small museum.

The small museum’s location could not be changed for historical reasons, and turning a house at this location into a public place would inevitably cause some inconvenience. To make the reclusive museum easier to find, large signs giving directions had to be erected along the main street of the village (Figure 3-8). However, having to follow these signs to locate the entrance of the village community centre does not seem a good way to encourage villagers to gather. As a result, this entrance has been left unused with a large lock hanging on the gate.

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Figure 3-8 Large signpost painted on the wall along the main street saying ‘The former residence of Rock’s Museum’ (photo by the author)

The access lane is so narrow that it is impossible for a car to enter (Figure 3-9). Commuting is a necessity, especially for some of Yuhu Primary School’s teachers who do not live in the village. The old entrance of the primary school was more convenient and conspicuous, because it was not only located on the main street, but also close to a bus stop at the entrance of the village (Figure 3-10).

Figure 3-9 The narrow winding village lane leading to the entrance of the museum and Yuhu Primary School and Village Cultural Centre (photos by the author)

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The area in front of the designed entrance is not large. This limited space is tightly surrounded by private houses (Figure 3-11). The open space is small, and there are steps and ponds at the entrance. These may present a problem for the emergency evacuation of such a multifunctional public building. In contrast, the old entrance of the school had a spacious area in front of the gate (Figure 3-12). Parents who came to pick up children even could wait for in the small garden built next door (Figure 3-13). As a result, the old entrance is still in use today.

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Figure 3-11 The entrance of Yuhu Primary School designed by the architect and Village Cultural Centre, with the area in front of it (photos by the author)

Figure 3-12 The main street of Yuhu Village with a rock carved “玉湖小学 (Yuhu Primary School)” (photo by the author)

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Figure 3-13 A garden with trees and seats in front of the original entrance of Yuhu Primary School (photo by the author)

3.2.2.2 Design details

3.2.2.2.1 The enclosure

The façade of Yuhu Primary School is regarded as another innovative highlight. It is said that the special skin was inspired by local grain-drying brackets, so the building was enclosed by wooden lattices. At the UNESCO Asia-Pacific awards for innovation this detail was referred to as ‘a continuous feature linking the new structure to the old buildings’. 73 Architectural Review comments that this is a simplified expression of local tradition. In this way, people indoors can enjoy abundant sunlight and fresh air. This special method of enclosure is praised as one of three most outstanding merits of the design.74

This innovative enclosure, however, seems too thin for a building in Yuhu Village and the structure may not be safe enough for this primary school. The location of Yuhu Village is very special. Yuhu Village is right at the foot of Yulong (Jade Dragon) Snow Mountain, reaching an altitude of 2700 mm. Thus it is very cold, much cooler than other places in the region. The average yearly temperature in Yuhu Village is 8.9 degrees centigrade,75 while the average temperature of the region is between 13 and 20 degrees.76 Moreover, the wind is very strong in the village so it is especially difficult to maintain thermal comfort. The local driver who took me to the village made a point of reminding me to keep warm, as she thinks

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this village is the coldest in the area. The temperature was indeed much lower once I entered the village.

The low temperature and strong wind are one of the reasons why the local buildings in Yuhu Village are different from other villages in the region. Most traditional houses in other villages in that area are built of timber, rammed earth and brick (Figure 3-14), but houses in Yuhu Village are built of stone blocks (Figure 3-15). The heavy stone walls are approximately 600 mm thick, so thermal insulation surely is an important consideration for the village. This distinctive and highly uniform way of building local vernacular houses shows remarkable cohesion.

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Figure 3-14 Houses in other villages in the region (photos by the author)

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Figure 3-15 Local vernacular houses in Yuhu Village (photos by the author)

The conditions in Yuhu Village are very different from tropical areas such as Singapore where Li was based when he designed the project. Because Yuhu Primary School was built on a plateau where ultraviolet rays are strong and the speed of wind is high, thermal insulation seemed more important to buildings there than ventilation and light retention.

As the newly built Yuhu Primary School was only enclosed by wooden lattice, it was very cold inside the building. Teachers and students all complained about this. In a staff room, in order to keep warm, the resting teachers huddled closely together around a little electric heater, continuously rubbing their hands.

Further to the issue of thermal insulation, internal floor-to-ceiling pane glass walls were covered by wooden lattice on the outside. These panes were only fixed by a single thin wooden sash strip approximately 1 cm thick and 1 cm wide (Figure 3-19). The wooden strip was pressed on the edge of the glass pane and pegged to the timber frame. The strips did not seem strong enough, as some had dropped and gaps had appeared between the sash and frame (Figure 3-20). Other than the strip of thin wooden sash, there seemed to be nothing else attaching the glass pane to the grids.

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Figure 3-16 From inside the window, the glass pane is only fixed by a thin wooden edge which is marked red (photo by the author)

As mentioned before, the z-shaped layout, unlike that of local enclosed courtyards, formed two pocket-like openings. They had the potential to create difficulties in defending against strong winds. The windward façade was built with large glass panes poorly secured to ground-to-roof wooden lattices. Those glass panes shook violently in the wind, creating a loud noise that could be heard clearly. Teachers in the temporary kindergarten were worried for the children’s safety. As a result, all the students’ desks were deliberately moved to the other side of the classroom so as to keep a distance from the floor-to-ceiling lattice wall.

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The main passageways in the building were four long corridors. As they were narrow and both sides were the floor-to-ceiling wooden lattice fitted with glass panes (Figure 3-18), safety might be an issue.

Figure 3-18 One of the narrow passageways with floor-to-ceiling glass walls on both sides (photo by the author)

It cannot be denied that the appearance of the building was attractive with the façade covered by ground-to-roof wooden lattice (Figure 3-19). It could produce a beautiful texture with vivid patterns of light and shadows, but the temperature and safety challenges might have been better addressed if lessons of local tradition construction had been heeded.

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Figure 3-19 Glass wall viewed from outside (photos by the author)

Another celebrated innovation of the enclosure structure was the ‘timber lattice frames at the gable’.77 The reason for this innovative ‘improvement’ was that the traditional stone gable walls used in Yuhu Village were believed to be vulnerable in earthquakes. As it is especially cold in Yuhu Village, gable walls are usually sealed by stone or timber (Figure 3-20). In the region, there are some open gables, but for specific reasons only. Open gables are usually in use in villages that enjoyed warmer climates than Yuhu and when the upper floor is not used for living, but for storing grain and bacon (Figure 3-21). Enhanced ventilation is good for preserving food, but was not good for keeping warm in a cold mountain region (Figure 3-22). In the design of Yuhu Primary School, the upper floor was used for staff rooms rather than for storage. Therefore the open gable may have not been a good choice.

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Figure 3-20 Stone and timber gables of local vernacular houses in Yuhu Village (photos by the author)

Figure 3-22 Timber lattice used on the gable at Yuhu Primary School (photos by the author)

3.2.2.2.2 External spiral stairway

An outdoor spiral stairway also received commendation and was regarded as a further innovation (Figure 3-28). At the UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation this stairway was singled out as a ‘focal point’ providing an innovative form that evokes a modern feeling in a traditional context.78 The Architectural Review repeatedly commented on it and stressed how this stairway ‘provides more flexible orthogonal rooms’.79 It was highlighted as a ‘dramatic element’.80 The most innovative feature of this stairway, when compared with local traditional architecture, was its being located on the exterior.

At Yuhu Primary School, the spiral stairway was the only vertical circulation system connecting the two floors of the building. It was located outside the building and connected to the upper floor through bridge-like passageways. The steps of this cantilevered stairway were extended out, and overhanging a pond.

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In addition to the cold temperature and strong wind, there are two other noteworthy features of the local climate: the harsh sunlight and abundant rainfall. Yuhu Village is located on a high altitude plateau, so the sunlight is intense. There is about 1000 mm annual rainfall a year and on average 2350 hours of sunshine. This region is moist and with strong exposure to the sun.

Exposure to harsh sunlight and rain is a major problem for timber, and the local timber decays quickly in this adverse environment. Therefore, local people have developed a range of practical strategies to protect their timber structures. For example, in local traditional houses, stairs were located indoors on one or two sides of the main building (Figure 3-23). An important reason for the local people to locate the stairs indoors was to protect the timber. In Yuhu Village, most houses were single-storeyed so there was no need for a staircase in the house. This was mainly because taller buildings would find it more difficult to withstand the strong local winds.

Figure 3-23 Indoor wooden staircases in local vernacular houses in other villages close to Yuhu (photos by the author)

Earlier fieldwork by Duan, Cai and Wu established that, one year after the structure was built, the timber treads of the exterior stairway at Yuhu Primary School were cracked and out of shape. For safety reasons, it was rebuilt. To ensure the timber

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used for this exterior stairway would be more durable, well processed cedar wood was especially imported to replace the original materials.81

To use an exterior spiral stairway with weak handrails as the only vertical means of circulation may be questionable. As the spiral stairway was located outdoors and it rains often in Yuhu, the narrow treads were slippery on rainy days. Not only was the stairway not sheltered, the bridge-like passageway also was exposed to the open air (Figure 3-24). When the stairway was first built, the guard rails for both the stairway and the bridges seemed weak. The newels were thin, and the gap between them was large. There was no handrail, only three steel wires serving as guard rails. After reconstruction by the local government, the rails were modified. It looks much safer since the change, even if it has lost some of its visual appeal. The stairs were expected to project an image of lightness, especially when contrasted with the heavy stone column behind. It was the only structure connecting the two floors at a primary school.

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Figure 3-24 Bridge-like open air passageways (photos by the author)

3.2.2.2.3 Straightened ridgelines

The ‘straightened ridgelines’ of Yuhu Primary School were highlighted in Architectural Review, because they modernised and simplified the traditional curved roof form and a straight outline was more admired.82 Another merit of Yuhu Primary School’s roof was the use of traditional clay tiles.83 As the wind at the foot of Yulong Mountain is strong, Yuhu villagers usually preferred single-storey houses. Traditional clay tiles on a high roof were easily blown away. The curve ridgeline and cornice with four raised corners could slow the wind and prevent the tiles from being dislodged (Figure 3-25). The newly designed school building was taller than local houses, however, and its roof proved to be more vulnerable in strong winds (Figure 3-26). Tiles were found missing (Figure 3-27) and regular repairs were needed.84

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Figure 3-25 Local vernacular houses with curved roofs and raised corners (photos by the author)

Figure 3-26 High tilt roof built in straight lines at Yuhu Primary School (photo by the author)

Figure 3-27 Tiles have been blown away from a corner of the roof of Yuhu Primary School (Photo by the author)

3.2.2.2.4 The absence of a roofed veranda

The timber lattice used on the façade of Yuhu Primary School was subject to rapid decay. Because of the harsh sunlight and high rainfall, the roof in local traditional architecture was usually built with a deep overhang. For those taller vernacular

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buildings with two storeys, another set of eaves was added to cap the ground floor. This gave a veranda-like effect to the front of local buildings. Local people called this roofed structure shazi (Figure 3-28). To prevent rainwater from being blown in and damaging the timber structure, shazi was usually built as wide as 1.5 m to 2 m. This wide overhang was also useful in providing a sheltered space underneath, because it was wide enough to fit a table. Local people used this semi-open space for family gatherings and dinners.

Figure 3-28 Veranda-like structure in front of the timber structure of a local house (photo by the author)

At Yuhu Primary School, the overhang depth was short and there was no roofed veranda on ground floor. Timber structures were directly connected to the eaves. Mid-way up the facades, there was no veranda-like shelter extending out to provide an additional overhang (Figure 3-29). A large proportion of the timber structures were completely exposed to the outside elements, so, according to the fieldwork conducted by other researchers, the wooden lattice was severely rotted just one year after construction.85

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Figure 3-29 Overhang and timber structured façade of Yuhu Primary School (photos by the author)

3.2.2.2.5 Pebble floor

The whole site was paved with cobblestones (Figure 3-30). Even though this building material matched well in appearance with the local built environment, this type of floor surface was not necessarily safe for children. As the surface was uneven, children could easily trip and the cobble edges could hurt the falling children. A very inharmonious-looking notice board with striking colours stood out in the centre of the courtyard. It was a warning sign. The warning, in bright red against a blue background, read ‘ 温馨提示：人生美好，步步小心’ (Kindly reminder: Life is beautiful, mind your every step). Even though the pond has been

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left dry, it is obvious that safety has always been a problem at the site. The message in the notice may not be an exaggeration, as falling down on such a surface may cause serious injury. Apart from the cobblestones stone paved ground, the small site was filled with features such as ponds, bridges and platforms (Figure 3-31). To ensure safety for the temporary kindergarten, additional soft tiles were elaborately placed upon the cobble ground (Figure 3-32).

Figure 3-30 Multi-level Cobble-paved surface (photo by the author)

Figure 3-31 Multi-layered features in the grounds of the school (photos by the author)

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Figure 3-32 Additional soft tiles laid on the cobble-paved grounds of the temporary kindergarten courtyard (Photos by the author)

Cobblestone-paving was not restricted to the courtyards, it was also used inside the ground-floor corridors (Figure 3-33). These corridors were the only level passageways connecting the rooms on both floors. They were just one metre wide. With the rough cobble-paved floor and floor-to-ceiling timber lattice over large glass panes, the passageways were hardly suitable for children at play. Worse still, once the building was completed, firefighting devices needed to be installed. As a result, a line of firehose trunks further occupied almost one third of the narrow passageway. The accessible area became even more limited (Figure 3-34).

Figure 3-33 Narrow passageway on the ground floor (with child) and the first floor (photos by the author)

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Figure 3-34 Firehose trunks along the narrow passageways (photos by the author)

3.2.2.2.6 The water feature

Water features enhanced the outdoor landscape of Yuhu Primary School. However, for safety reasons, all the ponds were left dry and the water sources closed. Originally, the water that filled the ponds was fed from the north and channelled along the back of the building (Figure 3-35). After being blocked off, the water was fed into a strong stream along the west edge of the school. With so much water pouring along the edge of Yuhu Primary School, there were violent currents, so a line of high iron fence was installed there to protect the children. Extra iron wires with barbs ran along its top (Figure 3-36).

Figure 3-35 The location of the channels and added fences (diagram adapted by the author over the master plan from Li Xiaodong, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre,” 31.) 129

Figure 3-36 Added fences and iron wiring (photos by the author)

3.2.3 Fading from the Collective Memory

As a result of all these, the community centre has never been used. The primary school was only in use for a few months when the school’s old building was being renovated. During the time of the fieldwork, the building was temporarily occupied by a kindergarten, awaiting the completion the new kindergarten building. Among numerous complimentary articles on the project, only one paper questioned the design. Its authors mentioned how the building had deteriorated quickly when they visited the place just one year after the project had been completed.86

Although local villagers participated in the construction, the study suggests the collective potential could have been better used. These days, an important benchmark to evaluate an architect is whether he/she has produced tangible innovation, as what was shown in the reports of this project in various media. This can affect the benefits derived from collective enterprise. Based on the fieldwork in this study, some of the innovations of Yuhu Primary School may have suffered from insufficient local engagement. The case study suggests that architectural innovation is less about revolutionizing local traditions than about integrating modern designs with local traditions. More importantly, a respect of tradition is a prerequisite to any architectural innovation.

This architecture was more like a benefit generously bestowed by the architect upon the village, than a communal project in which the villagers themselves could take pride. From the beginning, the villagers were left aside. It was the architect

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who went to seek a donation to continue the project. Once it was built, the building became remote from the villagers’ daily life and gradually faded from their collective consciousness. When the villagers referred to this building, they seemed respectful but confused, because both the purpose of this building seemed mysterious to them. Some said that they thought the building was planned as a hotel and others guessed it would soon be sold. It was always mentioned that this building was designed by a famous architect from overseas, and that the villagers were very grateful for his work.

3.3 Conclusion

This chapter suggests that pre-modern collective design and construction was an effective mechanism that sustained the special evolution of pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture. In particular, this mechanism relied on two features: one was the pre-modern Chinese ethic of building; and the other was the balanced power between participants in the collective design and construction. The ethic promulgated the idea that the arbitrary pursuit of innovation for individuals was risky. It greatly valued austerity and morality in architecture. Through the message conveyed in folklore and the construction rituals, the power of every participant in the collective design and construction process was controlled and balanced, meaning that no individual could dominate the others. In this way, the evolution of pre-modern Chinese architecture was not necessarily reliant on physical changes. These were very hard to be duplicated in a modern architectural design studio, but needs the engagement of the whole society.

Through fieldwork and literature research on Li Xiaodong’s Yuhu Primary School, the study (Section 3.2 in Chapter 3) reveals that tangible innovation was highly valued in this more recent and prestigious project. In addition, the study unravels the difficulty a modern architect experienced in realising collectiveness. The study suggests that the collective design and construction could have more effective potency in this project. As a result, individual innovation was largely fostered, but the real collectiveness was not easy to realise.

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Notes to Chapter 3

1 Zhouyi: Xici 易经·系辞 [Classic of changes: the great commentary]; Tanglv yishu 唐律疏议 [Tang code] (651 CE); Liu, An 刘安, “Benjing xun 本经训 [Fundamental norm],” in Huainanzi 淮南子 [A collection of scholarly debates held at the court of Huainanzi], ed. An Liu (ca. 139 BCE); Lvao 旅獒 [The house of Lv], Shang Shu 尚书 [Book of Documents]; Taishi (xia) 泰誓(下) [Great speech (part 3)], Shang Shu 尚书 [Book of Documents]; Mo Zi 墨子, Qi huan 七患 [Seven types of adversity], Mo Zi 墨子. 2 For some examples, Paulini, Mercedes, Murty, Paul, and Maher, Mary Lou, “Design Processes in Collective Innovation Communities: A Study of Communication,” CoDesign 9, no. 2 (2013); Lévy, Pierre, “Collective Intelligence: Mankind’s Emerging World in Cyberspace, trans,” Robert Bononno. Cambridge, Mass. Perseus (1997); Hight, Christopher and Perry, Chris, “Collective Intelligence in Design,” Architectural Design 76, no. 5 (2006); Jiménez-Narváez, Luz-María and Gardoni, Mickael, “Developing Design Concepts in a Cloud Computing Environment: Creative Interactions and Brainstorming Modalities,” Digital Creativity 25, no. 4 (2014). 3 Ruan, Xing, Allegorical Architecture: Living Myth and Architectonics in Southern China. 4 Kegley, Charles W. and Blanton, Shannon Lindsey, World Politics: Trend and Transformation (Australia: Wadsworth Cengage Learning, 2005). 5 Turner, Victor, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-structure (Transaction publishers, 1995). 6 Rykwert, Joseph, On Adam’s House in Paradise: The Idea of the Primitive Hut in Architectural History 2 (Museum of Modern Art; distributed by New York Graphic Society, Greenwich, Conn, 1972), 29. 7 From interviews with local people at Jianchuan and Nuodeng in Dali, China. Also see Lu, Dezhi 卢得志, “Bangmang 帮忙 [Help]: LIjin jianfang xisu sanji 利津建房习俗散记[Records of construction customs],” Minsu Yanjiu 民俗研究 [Study on Folk Custom] (1993). 8 Also see Ruan, Xing, Allegorical Architecture: Living Myth and Architectonics in Southern China. 9 “古之良工，不劳其智以为玩好。是故无用之物，守法者不失” from Guan Zi 管子, Wufu 五辅, Guan Zi 管子 10 (475–221 BCE). 10 “若民有淫行邪性，树为淫词，作为淫巧，以上焰君上而下惑百姓，移国动众，以害民务者，其刑死、流” from ibid. 11 “物致用，必谨其度” from Konggong Zongbu: Huikao 考工总部·汇考 Vol.4 from He, Qingxian 何庆先, Zhongguo lidai kaogongdian 中国历代考工典 [Paradigm for craftsmen of past dynasties in China] (Nanjing: Jiangsu guji chubanshe, 2003). 12 “毋耗于材” and “毋纵己私” from ibid. 13 “物勒工名，以考其诚” literally means craftsmen should carve their names on their works in order to claim their credit. Yueling 月令 [Proceedings of government in the different months], Li ji 礼记 [The book of rites]. 14 “物勒工名，以考其诚，功有不当，必行其罪” Tanglv yishu 唐律疏议 [Tang code]. 15 “鲁般者，肃州炖煌人，莫详年代，巧侔造化。于凉州造浮图，作木鸢，每击楔三下，乘之以归。无何，其妻有妊，父母诘之，妻具说其故。父后伺得鸢，击楔十余下，遂至吴会。吴人以为妖，遂杀之。般又为木鸢乘之，遂获父尸。怨吴人杀其父，于肃州城南作一木仙人，举手指东南，吴地大旱三年。卜曰：般所为也！赉物具千数谢之。般为断一手，其日吴中大雨。国初，土人尚祈祷其木仙。六国时，公输般亦为木鸢以窥宋城” from Zhang, Wu 张鹜, Chao ye qian zai 朝野佥载 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1997 (first written between 618–906 CE)), 153. 16 Wang Chong was a materialism philosopher in the East Han dynasty. 17 “言巧工为母作木车马，木人御者，机关备具，载母其上，一驱不返，遂失其母” Wang, Chong 王充, Ruzeng 儒增, Lunheng 论衡 [Discourse Balanced] 8 (ca. 86 CE). Also see the record of the original text and translation into modern Chinese from Wang, Chong 王充, Beijing daxue lishixi Lunheng zhuyi xiaozu zhushi 北京大学历史系论衡注释小组注释 [Annotation by the Luheng Annotation Team, Department of History, Peking University] (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1979), 466. 18 “公输子削竹木以为鹊，成而飞之，三日不下。公输子以为至巧”; “子之为鹊也，不若匠之为车辖，须臾刘三寸之木而任五十石之重” from Mo Zi 墨子, Lu wen 鲁问 [Questions posed about Lu State], Mo Zi 墨子 49. 19 “作奇技淫巧，以悦妇人” Taishi (xia) 泰誓(下) [Great speech (part 3)].

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20 “孔颖达疏: ‘奇技谓奇异技能，淫巧谓过度工巧。二者大同，但技据人身，巧指器物为异耳’” Kong, Yingda 孔颖达, Kong Yingda Shu 孔颖达疏 [Annotation by Kong Yingda]. 21 “昔者，圣王之世，服饰有定制，而作奇技淫巧者有诛” from Guan, Tong 管同, Jinyong yanghuo yi 禁用洋货议 [A proposal to ban imported commodities] 26 (1780—1831). 22 “不贵异物贱用物了民乃足” from Lvao 旅獒 [The house of Lv]. 23 “玩人丧德,玩物丧志” from ibid. 24 “今工以巧矣，而民不足于备用者，其悦在玩好” from Guan Zi 管子, Wufu 五辅. 25 “淫声谄耳，淫观谄目，耳目之所好谄心，心之所好伤民，民伤而身不危者，未之尝闻也” ibid. 26 “其为宫室何以为？冬以圉风寒，基以圉羞雨。凡为宫室加固者，鲜祖不加者去之” quoted from Jieyong 节用 [Thrift] in Mo Zi 墨子, Mo Zi 墨子. Also see Schwartz’s interpretation from Schwartz, Benjamin Isadore, The World of Thought in Ancient China (Harvard University Press, 2009), 148- 149. 27 Li, Chenyang and Perkins, Franklin, Chinese Metaphysics and Its Problems (Cambridge University Press, 2015), 17. 28 Zhouyi: Xici 易经·系辞 [Classic of changes: the great commentary]. 29 Cheng, Hao 程顥 and Cheng, Yi 程颐, Er Cheng quanshu 二程全书 [The book of Cheng Hao 程顥 and Cheng Yi 程颐] (960–1127 CE); Zheng, Guanying 郑观应, Shengshi weiyan 盛世危言 [Fragile prosperity] (1893). 30 “子墨子曰：国有七患。七患者何？城郭沟池不可守而治宫室，一患也”； “民力尽于无用…民无食，则不可事。故食不可不务也，地不可不立也，用不可不节也” from Mo Zi 墨子, Qi huan 七患 [Seven types of adversity]. 31 “仓廩之所以实者，耕农之本务也，而綦组锦绣刻划为末作者富” from Han, Fei 韩非, Wudu 五蠹, Han Feizi 韩非子; “夫明王治国之政，使其商工游食之民少而名卑，以寡趣本务而趋末作” from Han, Fei 韩非, Guishi 诡使, Han Feizi 韩非子. 32 Nie, Zhihong 聂志红, Zhongguo jingji sixiang shi xieyao 中国经济思想史撷要 [History of Chinese economic thought] (Zhongguo minzhu fazhi chubanshe, 2012). 33 A range of policies were observed from the Qin dynasty to the Tang dynasty, such as “zhongben yimo 重本抑末 [developing the essential industries and restraining the minor ones]” and “quanke nongsan 劝课农桑 [encouragement and innovation in agriculture]”. From the Song dynasty to the Qing dynasty, industries relevant to crafts were regarded as inferior. See the historical study of the notion of thrift from Wang, Na 王娜, “Relationship between Modern Technology and Luxury Consumption from the Perspective of Philosophy” (PhD Thesis, Dalian University of Technology, 2013). 34 Zeng guang xian wen 增广贤文 [Enlarged writings of worthies: a collection of Chinese proverbs] (1368–1644 CE), 504. 35 Also see the analysis offered by Tuan, Yi-Fu, Morality and Imagination: Paradoxes of progress (Univ of Wisconsin Press, 1989). 36“是故古者明堂之制，下之润湿弗能及，上之雾露弗能入，四方之风弗能袭；土事不文，木工不斫，金器不镂；衣无隅差之削，冠无觚蠃之理；堂大足以周旋理文，静洁足以享上帝、礼鬼神，以示民知俭节” from Liu, An 刘安, ed., Huainanzi 淮南子; Liu, An 刘安, “Benjing xun 本经训 [Fundamental norm]”. The translation is based on Major, John S. et al., “The Huainanzi: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China,” New York: Columbia University (2010). 37 Liu, An 刘安, “Benjing xun 本经训 [Fundamental norm]”. 38 Major, John S. et al., “The Huainanzi: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China,” 283. 39 From interviews with local craftsmen, Li Guangwen and Yang Yusong. 40 The construction rituals and their sequence are according to the author’s fieldwork conducted in 2013 and 2015; and also see Liao, Jing, “The Research on Traditional Bai Dwellings Erected in Dali” (Master thesis, Kunming University of Science and Technology, 2006); Bin, Huizhong 宾慧中 , Zhongguo baizu chuantong minjian yingzao jiyi 中国白族传统民间营造技艺 (Tongji University Press, 2011); Li, Xuemei and Smith, Kendra Schank, “Time, Space, and Construction: Starting with Auspicious Carpentry (开工大吉) in the Vernacular Dong Dwelling,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 70, no. 1 (2011). 133

41 According to the author’s fieldwork conducted in 2013 and 2015. Also see Liao, Jing, “The Research on Traditional Bai Dwellings Erected in Dali”; Bin, Huizhong 宾慧中, Zhongguo baizu chuantong minjian yingzao jiyi 中国白族传统民间营造技艺; Li, Xuemei and Smith, Kendra Schank, “Time, Space, and Construction”. 42 Dali Zhou Baizu Minjian Gushi Bianjizu 大理州白族民间故事编辑组 [The Editing Group of the team documenting Bai Folklore in Dali], Baizu minjian gushi 白族民间故事 [Folklore of the Bai] (Yunnan renmin chubanshe, 1982). 43 See “Guoguo Longzi 蝈蝈笼子 [the cage of the grasshopper],” 民间文学 [Folk Literature] 4 (1956); “Guoda Jiahuo 锅大家伙,” 民间文学 [Folk Literature] 4 (1956). The folklore includes Yutailiang he Tuduiting 鱼抬梁和土堆亭 [Yutai beam and the pavilion on the platform] ，Xiujian Liuhe Ta 修建六和塔 [Building the Liuhe Pagoda], and Qiaotong yu luonv 樵童与螺女 [The boy collecting firewood and the field snail fairy] from Rehe minjian gushi 热河民间故事 [Folklore in Rehe]. 44 “圆木大吉，开工大吉，今天（房主姓名）新房开工，鲁班师傅保佑一切顺利 …” cited from the record of Bin’s fieldwork see Bin, Huizhong 宾慧中, Zhongguo baizu chuantong minjian yingzao jiyi 中国白族传统民间营造技艺, 138. Translated by author. 45 “接得主人一只鸡，鸡是凤凰五彩鸡；头戴金头盔，身穿五色衣。今日主人盖宝地，用你来作点粱鸡；我是鲁班的弟子，鲁班弟子把光开。先点左，庆贺主人财喜好；后点右，庆贺主人加福寿 …” (receive a chicken from the house owner, this is a colourful ‘phoenix’; it wears a golden helmet and is dressed in colourful clothes. The house owner will build a precious dwelling today; I will use you, this chicken, to decorate the beam. I am an apprentice of Lu Ban; the apprentice of Lu Ban will be consecrated now. Decoration to the left, wishing the house owners all wealth and happiness; decoration to the right, wishing the house owners luck and long life …). 46 This temple is located east of Erhai Lake, Dali State, Yunnan Province. Photos of this temple were taken during author’s fieldwork conducted in 2013. A stone tablet in this temple establishes that it was built new in 1998. 47 “木工、石工所用之墨线，古谓之绳墨。《记》云: ‘绳墨诚陈，不可欺以曲直’是也。然权衡规矩，皆不足辟邪，惟木工、石工之墨线，则鬼魅畏之，其故何也？邪不胜正也。《管子·宙合篇》曰: ‘绳扶拨以为正。’东晋《古文尚书》曰: ‘木从绳则正。’《淮南子·时则篇》曰: ‘绳者，所以绳万物也。’ 高诱注曰: ‘绳，正也。’鬼魅之畏墨线，畏其正耳。慈溪西门外曾有僵尸，夜出为人害。一夕，有木匠数人登城，隐女墙窥之。果见棺中有僵尸飞出，其行如风。匠人伺其去远，乃至其处，以墨线弹棺四周，复登城观其反。俄而僵尸还，见墨线痕，不敢入，徘徊四顾，如有所行见者然。饿见墙上有人，踊跃欲上。众匠即以墨线弹女墙，尸遂不能上。相持至天明，仆于地，乃共焚之” from Yu, Yue 俞樾, Zuoxiantai biji 右台仙馆笔记 [The notes of myth and anecdote], 6th ed. (Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1986), 155–56. 48 “大夫吴温彦，德州人，累为郡守，后居平江之长熟县。建房方成，每夕必梦七人，衣白衣，自屋脊而下。以告家人，莫晓何详也。未几，得疾不起。其子欲验物怪，命役夫升屋，撤瓦遍观，得纸人七枚于其中，乃圬者以傭直不满志，故为厌胜之术，以祸主人” from Hong, Mai 洪迈 and He Zhuo 何卓, Yijianzhi 夷坚志 (Zhonghua shuju, 1981 (first written between 1162–1202 CE)), 452. 49 “吴人之俗，每覆瓦时，虽盛署，亦遣子弟亲等其上临视，盖懼此也。吴君北人，不知此，故墮其邪计” from ibid. 50 “凡卧室内有魇魅捉出者，不要放手，速以热油煎之，次投火中，其匠不死即病。又法，起造房屋于上梁之日，偷匠人六尺竿，并墨斗，以木马两个，置二门外，东西相对。先以六尺竿横放木马上，次将墨斗线横放竿上，不令匠知。上梁毕，令众匠人跨过，如使魇者，则不敢跨” from Xu, Guangqi 徐光启, Nongzheng quanshu 农政全书 [Complete book of agricultural activities] (1639). Also see “余家有祖遗公宅一区，凡族人寓其中者，不数年即贫乏他徙。后倾圮拆毁，梁隙间有木寸许，镂两马架车向檐外作奔驰状，御者鞭其后，乃知为匠役厌胜之术也。或谓营造将落成时，取锯木行马，立大门左，架以丈木，置斧头一柄于其下，逼令众匠跨之，即可解。然而斧顺木师所手持者方效，未知信否” from Wang, Qi 王槭, Qiudeng conghua 秋灯丛话 (Jinan: Huanghe chubanshe, 1990), 30. 51 For example, in fieldwork conducted by the author in Nuodeng Village, Dali, Yunnan, a family applied a decoration to their newly built house that was conventionally reserved for the house of a successful candidate in the highest imperial examinations. Although the family thought this was appropriate, seeing that their child had achieved an outstanding result in the college entrance 134

examination, villagers did not feel the two achievements could be compared. In the end, the family gave up this exalted decoration. 52 Conventionally the Bai would automatically provide a setback of at least three feet from their next door neighbours. 53 According to the interview with Zhao Qin, in serious situations, the headman of a clan could get involved and criticise a family that did not build properly. 54 According to Hao, Xiang 郝翔, Zhoucheng Wenhua 周城文化 [The cutlure of Zhoucheng]: Zhongguo Baizu mingcun de tianye diaocha 中国白族名村的田野调查 (Zhongyang minzu daxue chubanshe, 2001), 315. 55 For the idea of reciprocity in traditional societies, also see Tuan, Yi-Fu, Morality and Imagination: Paradoxes of progress. 56 Refer to the north, south, east, west and centre. 57 “太阳出来一蓬花，照着主人蒸粑粑；…张鲁二班不爱财，元宝归还主人手!” translated by the author. 58 “接得主人一盆花，矛头蒸得扑鼻香，我是鲁班的弟子，先我口袋装” translated by the author. 59 Information about the ritual of moving house is according to Hao, Xiang 郝翔, Zhoucheng Wenhua 周城文化 [The cutlure of Zhoucheng], 72-3. 60 “Shorter” denotes the negative condition of a family, such as ‘poorer’, ‘worse’ etc. 61 See the “Jury Citation” for the 2005 UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation on its official website.http://www.unescobkk.org/culture/wh/asia-pacific-heritage-awards/previous-heritage- awards-2000-2013/2005/award-winners/2005jc2/. 62 See the requirement and introduction of EDRA Great Places Awards on its official website http://www.edra.org/content/great-places-awards. 63 “Its delicate design skilfully interprets the traditional architectural environment through modern technology; its bold utilization of local materials and creative illustration of vernacular architecture not only creates a powerful form but also pushes sustainable architectural design one step forward.” This citation comes from the information available on the “Yuhu Elementary School” project on Li Xiaodong’s website: www.Lixiaodong.net. 64 The Observation section of the journal Chinese Architecture published an interview with Li in “Li Xiaodong: jianzhu duixian linian 李晓东：建筑兑现理念 [Li Xiaodong: architecture realizes ideas]”; also see Moffat, David, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre—Lijiang, China [EDRA/Places Awards, 2004-Design]”. 65 Ibid. 66 Wang, Lu, “Redefining the Nasi Cultural-Scape: Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre in Lijiang,” World Architecture 11 (2004). 67 Luo, Jing and Qu, Xiangling, “Taking Architecture Easy: An Interview with Li Xiaodogn an outstanding young architect,” Chinese & Overseas Architecture, no. 2 (2008): 30. 68 Wang, Ruibing 王瑞冰, “Yi xiandai shoufa tantao shidaixing he diyuxing wenti 以现代手法探讨时代性和地域性问题——访清华大学建筑学院教授李晓东 [Exploring the spirit of time and regionalism with modern methods—an interview with Professor Li Xiaodong from Faculty of Architecture, Thinghua University],” Shejijia 设计家 [Designer] 2 (2011): 19. 69 Ibid. 70 See Duan, Degang, Cai, Zhongyuan, and Wu, Jiannan, “Xiang tuzhu xuexi: ping Yulong xueshan xia de Yuhu Wanxiao jiaoxue zonghelou [Learning from the locals: the Yuhu Primary School at the foot of Yulong Snow Mountain],” Architecture & Culture, no. 1 (2009); Wang, Lu 王路, “Naxi Wenhua Jingguan de Zaiquanshi—Lijiang Yuhu Xiaoxue ji Shequzhongxin Sheji 纳西文化景观的再诠释— —丽江玉湖小学及社区中心设计 [Redefining the Naxi Cultural-Space: Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre in Lijiang],” World Architecture 11 (2004); Wang, Lu, “Redefining the Nasi Cultural-Scape: Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre in Lijiang”; Fen, Ye, “Xueshan jiaoxia de Yuhu wanxiao [The Yuhu Primary School at the foot of snow mountain],” China Construction, no. 3 (2006); Jia Zi, “Yuhu Wanxiao Ying Yuhu: Zhongguo Diyu Jianzhu Dianfan [Yuhu Primary School Reflecting the Yu Lake: A Paradigm of the Regional Architecture in Contemporary China],” China Homes, no. 1 (2010); “Li Xiaodong: jianzhu duixian linian 李晓东：建筑兑现理念 [Li Xiaodong: architecture realizes ideas]”. 71 See the “Jury Citation” for the 2005 UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation on the official website.http://www.unescobkk.org/culture/wh/asia-pacific-heritage-awards/previous-heritage- 135

awards-2000-2013/2005/award-winners/2005jc2/; also see Moffat, David, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre—Lijiang, China [EDRA / Places Awards, 2004-Design]”. 72 According to the author’s fieldwork in 2015. 73 Quoted from the “Jury Citation” for the 2005 UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation on the official website.http://www.unescobkk.org/culture/wh/asia-pacific-heritage-awards/previous-heritage- awards-2000-2013/2005/award-winners/2005jc2/. 74 Moffat, David, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre—Lijiang, China [EDRA/Places Awards, 2004-Design]”. 75 Zhang, Wei 张玮, “The ‘magnet’ and ‘container’ of Lijiang Yuhu settlement” (Master Thesis, Kunming University of Science and Technology, 2009). 76 Data from China’s weather website. www.weather.com.cn. 77 Quoted from the “Jury Citation” for the 2005 UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation on the official website. http://www.unescobkk.org/culture/wh/asia-pacific-heritage-awards/previous-heritage- awards-2000-2013/2005/award-winners/2005jc2/. 78 Quoted from the “Jury Citation” for the 2005 UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation at the official website. http://www.unescobkk.org/culture/wh/asia-pacific-heritage-awards/previous-heritage- awards-2000-2013/2005/award-winners/2005jc2/. 79 Gregory, Rob, “Li Xiaodong Studio shows that the most interesting home-grown talents are those who embrace their heritage,” The Architectural Review. 80 Moffat, David, “Yuhu Elementary School and Community Centre—Lijiang, China [EDRA/Places Awards, 2004-Design]”. 81 Duan, Degang, Cai, Zhongyuan and Wu, Jiannan, “Xiang tuzhu xuexi: ping Yulong xueshan xia de Yuhu Wanxiao jiaoxue zonghelou [Learning from the locals: the Yuhu Primary School at the foot of Yulong Snow Mountain]”. 82 Gregory, Rob, “Li Xiaodong Studio shows that the most interesting home-grown talents are those who embrace their heritage”. 83 See the “Jury Citation” for the 2005 UNESCO Jury Award for Innovation on the official website. http://www.unescobkk.org/culture/wh/asia-pacific-heritage-awards/previous-heritage-awards- 2000-2013/2005/award-winners/2005jc2/. 84 According to the Yuhu villagers. 85 The problem of the building’s deterioration just one year after its completion is recorded in Duan, Degang, Cai, Zhongyuan and Wu, Jiannan, “Xiang tuzhu xuexi: ping Yulong xueshan xia de Yuhu Wanxiao jiaoxue zonghelou [Learning from the locals: the Yuhu Primary School at the foot of Yulong Snow Mountain]”. 86 Ibid.

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4 Chapter 4: Cultural Tradition, Architectural Progress and Ancestor Veneration

As revealed in Chapter 2, rather than physical changes, the evolution of architecture could rely on the renewal of an intangible cultural heritage. Chapters 4 and 5 investigate the fundamental rationales that underpinned this evolution of pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture. Chapter 4 highlights the influence of ancestor worship in China and suggests that it acted as a cultural tradition to sustain the evolution of pre-modern Chinese architecture.

The previous literature shows that the culture of ancestor worship or veneration can act as a powerful nexus between the past and present. Between Authenticity and Nostalgia reveals how the ancestor cult of the Yoruba in Southern Benin represented different relationships with the past. Although individuals’ understanding of their relationship with the past may vary, the motif of ancestor veneration remained unchanged and was regarded as an emblem of authentic identity for the Yoruba. Additionally, it expressed nostalgia for the history of the lineage.1 Tradition Brought to the Surface described the important role played by ancestor veneration in the process of social memory formation, showing both continuity and dynamic change.2 An analysis of the cultural traditions associated with ancestor veneration reveals two things about pre-modern Chinese architecture. Firstly such an analysis suggests reasons for the enduring stability of the architecture and secondly it suggests reasons for the architecture’s intangible cultural dynamism.

This study takes both physical objects and practices into account in investigating the influence of ancestor worship on the evolution of architecture in pre-modern China. On the one hand, the paper entitled, Object, Memory, and Materiality at Yaxchilan, reveals how the concept of time and the view of the past can be interpreted from physical objects. Through inscriptions on the lintels of structure 12 at Yaxchilan, the Mayan concept of time could be investigated. On the lintels, an ordinal list of rulers was inscribed in sequence, but their placement in the building

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was circular. For the Maya, the present and the past were not separated; instead, they were profoundly connected. For example, old objects such as older lintels in the structures were used to accentuate the polity’s venerable past.3 On the other hand, How Societies Remember emphasises the vital role of practices. The view of the past was reflected and continued by ritual performances.4

Departing from the previous literature, the first half of this chapter suggests that within the culture of ancestor worship, pre-modern Chinese used architecture that represented the past to imagine and define the future. This conclusion is based on both physical objects and practices. For example, archaeological excavation reveals the custom of burying ceramic architectural models in tombs that reflected surreal expressions through particular structures or decorations. These particular architectural expressions mainly symbolised the wish for prosperity in official careers. This custom was especially popular in the Han dynasty, when the policy of selecting officials via imperial examination and recommendation had just begun. Through the inauguration of this selection system, people could achieve a higher social status. However, there were not many surreal expressions built into real life architecture. As opposed to architectural artwork, buildings were not part of the wishes sent to ancestors; thus, there were fewer material changes or tangible innovations, and such changes were treated with great caution.

The second half of this chapter concentrates on a contemporary architect with a profound connection with the past and considered to be a regionalist architect, Hassan Fathy. The case study suggests that the architect—who was still influenced by the modern ideology of progress to some extent—scrutinised the past to search for tangible improvements. With this mind-set, the architect conceived of a better future that was reflected by the tangibly changed built environment. However, envisaging a situation in which the connection with the past would be comparatively weaker, the villagers felt anxious and refused to accept the newly designed buildings.

The adoption of the vernacular as a conceptual and aesthetic innovation led to positive media attention. As Glen Hill analyses in The Aesthetics of Architectural Consumption, modern architectural aesthetic innovation and fashion cycles have 138

brought many modern by-products, such as kudos, dynamic aesthetic economy and ephemeral interpretive communities.5 The project of New Gourna is not an exception. These by-products often caused us to forget some basic attributes or roles of architecture. One of the essential attributes of architecture underscored by Hill is its eventual withdrawing, that is, withdraw into the background and serve for the day-to-day use. Architecture and art share many common features, but in the sense of this attribute, they are fundamentally different. 6 This is what will be discussed in the case study of Fathy’s project New Gourna.

Section 4.1 shows that in the studied pre-modern vernacular architecture, the imagination of the future is based on the veneration towards the past. Section 4.2 suggests that the conceptual and aesthetic borrowing from vernacular architecture without the accompanying pre-modern way of being may have the opposite effect of playing into the constantly shifting aesthetic economy of modern architecture, and hence its unsustainability in terms of resource consumption.

4.1 Ancestor Worship, the Past and the Better Life

This case study suggests that the culture of ancestor veneration was very influential in relation to the evolutionary pattern of pre-modern vernacular Chinese architecture. This section proposes that this culture influenced the evolution of pre- modern Chinese vernacular architecture through two channels.

First, desires, fantasies and ambitions, such as gaining more wealth or achieving a higher position, could be sent to ancestors rather than relying on the physical expression of buildings. According to the belief, ancestors would judge whether the descendants were good enough to deserve the improvement. This mechanism could prevent people from being zealous in tangibly improving their material lives. They could be calm and patient while improving themselves in preparation for their ancestors’ assessment. Therefore, capriciousness and impropriety could be effectively avoided in buildings. Meanwhile, bold expressions and creative imagination were largely expressed through artworks such as architectural ceramic models buried with ancestors. Thus, substantial surreal details appeared among the archaeological findings of these miniature architectural models. They could

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also represent expectations for wealth, power or prosperity as the patron wished, as well as being messages to ancestors.

On the other hand, the meaning of architecture has never been as simple as material shelter. In pre-modern Chinese culture, the glory and sacredness of a building was always associated with ancestors. The family house could not be a concept independent of the meaning and traditions of one’s ancestors. All of this could be tracked from the early linguistic meanings of the terms; an ancestor was not simply a corpse lying in a faraway tomb but the spirit all around the family house. Descendants would be blessed and protected by their ancestors, but they would also be judged by them. Another material expression of this culture was a type of miniature architectural model. These were used as domestic altars for worshiping ancestors at home in day-to-day life.

By investigating early concepts of ancestor reflected by linguistic meanings and analysing material evidence provided by two types of architectural artwork built for ancestors, this case study reveals how the culture of ancestor worship affected the evolution of architecture in pre-modern China and further sheds light on why architectural progress could be achieved in the specific manner in pre-modern China.

4.1.1 ‘Ancestor’ and ‘Building’: A View of Public Life

In pre-modern Chinese society, ancestor worship was a profound and complex system. As a result, buildings acted as reminders of the past, to a large extent. Instead of pursuing architectural progress through novel forms, the past was used to imagine the future and better life. Both physically and spiritually, buildings bridged descendants and the deceased together, linking the present with the past.

4.1.1.1 Concepts and linguistic meanings

In Chinese, ‘ancestor’ is zuzong 祖宗. In this word, the first character, zu 祖, means the generations older than the father. Zong 宗 means ancestors and clan. These two characters have a rich, ancient meaning.

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More than 1,000 years ago, during the Han dynasty, an early definition of zu 祖 was ‘temple’.7 Long before this definition was offered, around the end of the Spring and Autumn period, there was an important regulation concerning the planning of an imperial city in Kao Gong Ji 考工记 (The Records of Examination of Craftsman, first published around 475–221 BCE): ‘左祖右社’8 (the temple should be located on the left and the altar for worshiping the sky and earth should be arranged on the right). In the text of this regulation, ‘ancestor’ denoted ‘the temple’. Zheng Xuan 郑玄 further annotated the word and confirmed that zu 祖 represented ‘temple’, especially a temple for ancestors.9

Apart from the meanings of ‘ancestors’ and ‘a type of sacred architecture’, zu showed a hybrid sense of time and referred to the ‘origin’. A pre-modern Chinese dictionary as well as a latter annotation based on it offered valuable traditional information. Shuowen jiezi 说文解字 (Explaining and Analysing Chinese Text and Characters) was written between 100–121 CE and was the first comprehensive Chinese character dictionary. Duan Yucai 段玉裁, the Qing dynasty scholar, was an expert in exegetical studies of Chinese characters and conducted substantial linguistic research in ancient Chinese. The quality of Duan’s annotating research, which is based on Explaining Graphs and Analysing Characters, stands out and is one of the most cited references for research today. Duan further annotated Shuowen jiezi and emphasised that the character, zu, had two meanings. Zu initially meant ‘temple’ and also referred to ‘origin’.10 Shigu 释诂 (The Annotation of Ancient Literature) also confirms these two meanings of zu.

After enquiring into the ancient meaning of the first character in the Chinese word ‘ancestor’—zuzong 祖宗 (ancestor)—the case study now moves to the second character, zong 宗. It seems that zong had an even stronger connection to the sanctity of architecture, especially as reflected by the ancient graphic form of this character. As a pictographic symbol, zong consisted of two parts: a building and a kneeling person. The ancient form of 宗 was ‘ ’, which was a combination of ‘

’ and ‘ ’. ‘ ’ represented a building with pitched roof, and ‘ ’ symbolized the

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kneeling person representing the conducted rite. Such an essential association was further confirmed in the subsequent literature. Wang Fuli noted that 宗 was the temple for worshiping and showing respect towards ancestors. ‘宗，尊祖廟也。从宀从示’11 (The meaning followed ‘宀’ and ‘示’). The shape of the character ‘

’ evolved into ‘宀’ and ‘ ’ was transformed into ‘示’.12 Ban Gu 班固, a scholar of the Han dynasty, clarified the meaning of ‘宗’ and underscored a reverential attitude towards ancestors in Baihu tong 白虎通 (Virtuous Discussions at the White Tiger Hall, first published around 25–220 CE).13

Ancient literary works reveal that zong was directly used as a noun to represent a temple. In The Classics of Poetry, which is a collection of poems composed from the eleventh to seventh century BCE, there is a poem titled Fuyi 凫鹥 (Wild Ducks and Waterfowls) that describes a pleasant banquet arranged by the Emperor of the Zhou dynasty to honour the clergy who assisted in a rite of ancestor worship. The poem states that ‘凫鹥在潀，公尸来燕来宗。既燕于宗，福禄攸降’14 (a flock of ducks and waterfowl were floating in a winding stream, happily playing in the water. The respectful clergy performed the ritual as the holy soul entered zong 宗 to attend the banquet that was elaborately arranged by the Emperor. After feasting at the zong, fortune and fame would follow). In the original text, the word ‘zong’ was used twice after two transitive verbs—lai (enter or come into) and the preposition yu (at or in). Therefore, in this context, zong was used as an object expressing a place. It did not represent ‘ancestor’ in this context but referred to a ‘temple’. For another example, in Zhou Li 周礼 (The Rites of Zhou), zong was used in a similar way to explain how to pray before sending an army to battle. ‘凡师甸用牲于社宗, 则为位’15 (Memorial tables should be set at a temple and sacrificial animals should be offered).

On the other hand, the architectural term was also used to mean ‘ancestors’. Miao 庙 is an architectural term referring to ‘temple’. In the pre-modern Chinese dictionary, zu (ancestor) was used directly to explain miao. 16 This linguistic phenomenon was apparent in the case of a more specific architectural term—

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zongmiao 宗庙 (temple for ancestors). Zhanguoce 战国策 (Strategies of the Warring States, first published between 206 BCE–9 CE) recorded a story that happened during the Warring States period. The local feudal prince of the Qi state exiled an important official, Meng Changjun 孟尝君, but after some time, the prince regretted the decision and apologized to Meng. The feudal prince said repentantly that 寡人不祥，被于宗庙之祟，沉于谄谀之臣，开罪于君。寡人不足为也；

愿君顾先王之宗庙，姑反国统万人乎!17 I had bad luck and suffered from the punishment imposed by ancestors (zongmiao 宗庙). 18 I was hoodwinked by some calumnies forged by other officials so that I blamed you, which turned out to be my serious mistake. I wish you could forgive me. For the sake of ancestors (zongmiao 宗庙),19 and thinking about the previous monarch, could you please come back and help me? Let us manage our country and government together! In this story, the word—zongmiao 宗庙 (a temple for worshiping ancestors)— appeared three times and reflected the intertwined concept of ‘ancestors’ and ‘temple for ancestors’. In the first two instances, this architectural term was used to mean ‘ancestors’. The third one appeared in Meng Changjun’s reply. Meng received the prince’s apology and agreed to return to the Qi State but requested that the prince build a splendid ‘temple’ as a proclamation of their agreement.20

Similar to zu, beyond the combined meanings of ancestor and architecture, zong also suggests ‘origin’. Xing Bing 郉昺, a scholar in the Northern Song dynasty, concluded that ‘宗者，本也’ (zong means origin). Then, he continued to explain its use in detail and the distinction between zu and zong when they were used to express temple. The level of zu was higher than that of zong.21

All in all, the complex history of linguistic relationships shows that the three concepts ‘architecture, the physical building’, ‘ancestors, people who lived in the past’ and ‘the origin’ were profoundly associated with one another in pre-modern Chinese culture. Based on this brief linguistic exploration, this case study continues

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to enquire into these complex relationships to see how these conceptual connections influenced the real world, especially their impact on architecture.

4.1.1.2 Ceramic architectural models, better life and service for ancestors Embedded in this cultural relationship between ancestors, architecture and origin, architecture acted as a materialized dialogue between ancestors and descendants and was used as a medium between the past and future. In this sense, this case study suggests a category of architectural artwork was noteworthy: architectural models buried in ancestors’ tombs. These models reflected the descendants’ wishes and imagination. This mechanism can be interpreted as a way of sending wishes to the past and using the past as a basis for imagining the future. This may seem very different from the modern way of looking toward the future, so the following analysis will offer the way in which this interpretation was reached.

As early as the Neolithic period, there were earthenware model buildings found in Yangshao cultural relics (5,000–3,000 BCE)22 as well as the Dawenkao (2,000– 1,600 BCE), the Majiayao (3,300–2,050 BCE) and Qijia (2,000–1,600 BCE). 23 These objects were made as sacrifices to a family’s ancestors and were usually buried with them. Later in the Han dynasty, there was a prevailing fashion of entombing small-scale building models with the deceased.

The majority of extant studies place greater stress on the models’ association with real-life constructions because the study of architecture during the Han dynasty mainly relies on these buried building models. There are no physical buildings from the Han dynasty that survive today, and the association with real buildings was a premise for studies of this type. The ceramic architectural models excavated from tombs have been briefly explained as a type of mortuary object offered to the deceased. However, this study highlights that there were more meanings.

First, this study suggests that the models in tombs appeared to act as materialized dialogue that was expressed in an architectural language, and this dialogue was between ‘ancestors’ and ‘descendants’. The message conveyed by these miniature architectural models showed how ‘the past’ and ‘future’ were connected. The thought of a better life, including the ambition for more political power and an 144

expectation of wealth, could be expressed freely in these building models that served as messages sent to one’s ancestors. It was obvious that people had much more flexibility and luxury to express in these models what they might not express in real life. On the one hand, it was an object that carried the family’s expectations for the future to their ancestors and served as a reified prayer for their ancestors’ blessing. On the other hand, its precedence was legitimised by its special status as being associated with the family’s ancestors. It was the miniature object that was sent to the past and therefore enjoyed more freedom than its real counterpart.

Second, the study notes that the building models buried in tombs mirrored real life to some extent but were absolutely romanticized for the sake of expressing desires. Thus, they reflected something beyond physical life. The case study highlights that a solid ideological foundation at that time could support this conclusion. As early as the Spring and Autumn period, Confucius noted that the objects offered to ancestors did not have to be pragmatic. He continued to criticise the improper behaviour of offering real objects to ancestors and explained that the differences in romanticised and spiritual features should be emphasised. Confucius argued by analogy that sacrificing to one’s ancestors the same things that were being used by the living was no different from burying living people rather than the deceased; it was surely ridiculous and impolite.24

Then, Confucius provided his explanation of how the objects should be prepared by examining the connotations of the term mingqi 明器, which was the term used for objects buried with one’s ancestors. The first character, ming 明 was defined as being equivalent to ming 冥, which means hell.25 The second character, qi 器, means object. Therefore, the combination of the two characters meant object of hell. Notably, Confucius emphasised that the first character, ming 明, was exactly the same as the character that appears in the word ‘divine’, shenming 神明; thus, Confucius remarked that such objects for one’s ancestors should be surreal and divine because that was their essence.26

From the physical perspective, there was a noteworthy phenomenon that manifested a profound association between these sacrificed building models and

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the imagination of a surreal life that people expressed by drawing support from their ancestors. According to archaeological findings, the hip roof was popularly adopted in the majority of building models excavated from tombs. In reality, however, the hip roof style was a symbol of the upper classes. Among different roof styles, the hip roof was respected as the most honourable; its usage was restricted and usually could only be applied to buildings of the highest standard, such as those owned by the emperor or those used as religious shrines.

The hip roof was popularly applied to architectural models buried with ancestors. It was not one or two accidental phenomena, but it clearly represented something. Mortuary building models with a hip roof were found in different regions far from each other, such as Henan province in the North of China and Guangdong province in the South.27 Additionally, the hip roof was found in building models of different categories, including multi-storied buildings, well pavilions and granaries. For most of these buildings, hip roofs were neither necessary nor proper because with respect to hierarchy, the buildings should have been of a lower standard. Therefore, this raises the questions of why the hip roof would be favoured in these architectural models and why non-imperial families were daring to build these miniature buildings regardless of hierarchical standard.

For real buildings such as those in the imperial palace (the Forbidden City in Beijing), a hierarchical ranking of roof types was explicitly defined. A double hip roof28 was the roof form of the highest standard; thus, it was used only in the largest building in the Forbidden City, the Taihe Dian 太和殿 (Hall of Supreme Harmony). In addition to its large scale, the status of this hall was also crucial, which its special location and function attested to. The hall was arranged as the climax of the central axis of the city. The buildings and structures around it were elaborately arranged to set a backdrop that highlighted its grandeur. Regarding its function, this hall was used to host the most important ceremonies of the nation.

The construction rule for hip roofs has a long history. Kao gong ji 考工记 (The Records of Examination of Craftsman) recorded the formal codes for planning and building the imperial city. The framework used by the sacred ancestors during the

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period of Yin 殷 was regarded as the paradigm for the city. The hip roof could only be applied for the important imperial hall using a specific scale.29

This particular type of roof symbolized power, particularly political power. Thus, the records of the examination of the craftsman in Rites of Zhou mentioned the hip roof in the chapter on how to build the imperial city, and relevant regulations also appeared in well-documented laws. Extant legal documents that reflected this regulation can be traced to the Tang dynasty. According to those building codes, the use of a hip roof was clearly explained. The hip roof was only permitted on imperial palaces and imperial temples that were specifically used for worshiping ancestors.30 Structural details of a building had to be treated carefully because beyond physical constructions, they represented social status. Buildings were required to be built distinctively to mark different identities. Dwellings for different classes were required to be hierarchically distinctive. 31 There were also strict penalties to punish those who violated the building code. Yingshanling 营缮令 (The Code for Building and Renovation) ruled that people who did not comply with the building code would be bludgeoned with one hundred strokes. There would be a period of one hundred days for renovations. If the building still did not conform to the regulations, the owner would be punished according to the law.32

What can be confirmed is that most patrons of these buried architectural models ranged from the gentry down to wealthy plebeians. The standards of these patrons’ tombs could reflect their level of position and affluence. Features such as building materials, applied techniques and design offered consistent evidence of these levels.33 These tombs could not belong to the upper-classes and certainly not to the imperial family. There were twenty social classes identified in the Han dynasty.34 For the upper classes, the whole coffin chamber was constructed as a real house that was underground and without exterior facades. The interior space was also divided into different rooms. There were entombed crafts made of precious materials, such as jade, gold and silver. The tombs where ceramic architectural models were excavated were usually built to a lower standard. Even among a few of the patrons famous enough to be recorded, it is obvious that the owners were not members of the imperial family. For example, there was a hip roof

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in a ceramic building model found in a tomb in Huayin County, Shanxi province.35 This tomb was owned by Liu Qi and his family. Although Liu Qi was an official of the Eastern Han dynasty, he was not a member of the imperial family; in fact, he was dismissed as an official in November, 134 CE.36 Even some famous figures among the purchasers of these models had humble backgrounds, and the majority remain anonymous.

Regardless of their social status in real life, ordinary people could express their imagined better life by using the building models buried with their ancestors. There were many surreal styles that appeared in these models, such as oversized components and unbuildable structures. Statues placed above the roof serve as an example. A bird-like statue, known as fengnia 凤鸟 (phoenix), often appeared on the ridge of these ceramic building models. This study suggests that this phenomenon is meaningful. It represented the revitalization of an outdated tradition of that time. At the same time, it embodied people’s desire for political power.

The statue of phoenix was no longer used after Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty, and it was replaced by the statue of chiwen 鸱吻 (which is a fish-like divine animal said to be the one of the nine sons of the dragon). The convention of placing fish- like statues on the roof persisted in later dynasties and still can be seen today. According to The Book of Han, in approximately 104 BCE, the grand imperial hall, called Boliang Hall 柏梁殿, of Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty collapsed in a blazing fire. Sad and angry, the emperor commanded his subordinates to investigate the cause. A wizard reported that the auspicious animal standing on the ridge should have been fish-like instead of the phoenix. The wizard explained that there was a type of fish living in the ocean whose tail resembled the auspicious animal, chiwen. When the creature fought against the current and the waves lapped, it would rain. Because ancient Chinese buildings were built from timber and thus vulnerable to fire, this explanation began the practice of building statues of the tail of chiwen on ridges to figuratively protect against fire.37 This history can also be found in Taiping yulan 太平御览 (a series of books edited during the Taiping period and read by Taizong Empor of the Song dynasty).38

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An expectation for better life was entrusted to the building models placed in tombs. Because of the practical limitations of timber structures, even the emperor had to give up the statues of the phoenix in his palace and turned to the fish-like divine animal as a safer decoration. In contrast, lower classes preferred building the phoenix tail onto building models for their ancestors. Moreover, this decoration was emphasised by its disproportionally large scale and meticulous details, as seen in the building model excavated from Tomb No. 3 at Liujiaqu, Shanan County, Henan province.39 Another example is the building model that was made in the late Han dynasty and was excavated from a courtyard of the old Post and Telecommunications Office of Xiangcheng County in 1977.40

Why was the statue of the phoenix so popular among the building models for ancestors even though it had been abolished as a dangerous symbol in reality? The case study suggests that the phoenix represented political power, implying a bright future in official careers. Guoyu 国语 (Narration of States), the earliest history recorded based on the different states in China, described how the phoenix was associated with auspicious political power in pre-modern China. A phoenix was seen flying and warbling above the Qi Mountain as an omen. After that, the heyday of the Zhou dynasty arrived.41 A similar description appeared in The Classics of Poetry. The scene of a phoenix engaged with other birds was used as a figurative depiction of the emperor’s support by many distinguished officials: 凤皇于飞，岁羽岁羽其羽，亦集爰止。蔼蔼王多吉士,维君子使，媚于天子。凤皇于飞，岁羽岁羽其羽，亦傅于天。蔼蔼王多吉人，维君子命,媚于庶人。凤皇鸣矣，于彼高冈；梧桐生矣,于彼朝阳。萋萋，雍雍喈喈。42

See how the phoenixes appear, And their wings rustle on the ear, As now they settle down! Such are those noble men who wait, O happy king, upon your state, The servants of your crown!

The male and female phoenix, lo!

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With rustling wings about they go, Then up to heaven they soar. Such are those noble men who stand, Prompt to obey your least command; None love your people more.

Hark how the phoenixes emit, Their notes, as on that ridge they sit! There the dryandras grow, And on its eastern slope they rise, With richer growth; and thence the cries, Sweet and still sweeter flow!

Numerous your chariots! Fleet your steeds, And trained! Your name for noble deeds. Shall be renowned for long. O king, these verses I have made, And humbly at your feet they’re laid, Inspired by your own song.43

4.1.1.3 A historical turning point and the imagining of a better life Both the use of the hip roof and the phoenix statues were related to political power. Why did people think so highly of political performance during that period? As an explanation, the case study finds that there was a historical turning point in the Han dynasty. From the Zhou and Qin dynasties until the Han dynasty, a long history of approximately one thousand years, people’s social status was defined by their birth, specifically, how close their blood ties were with the imperial family. Royal titles and lands were allocated to the descendants and relatives of the emperor. In 196 BCE, Emperor Gaozu of the Han dynasty started a new system to select officials via recommendation and examination.44 Following Gaozu, in 134 BCE, Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty implemented his minister Dong Zhongshu’s proposal and used Confucianism as the content of the imperial examination.45

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Later, this recruitment policy evolved into the civil service examination system, which continued throughout Chinese imperial times until 1905.

In the Han dynasty, a newly born class emerged of individuals who acquired their identities and became officials because of their good character and excellent performance. This class represented the possibility of changing one’s fate through one’s own efforts rather than being bound to a class at birth. This stimulated the imagining of a better life. The ceramic architectural models buried with one’s ancestors could be a physical expression of this tendency. People of middle or lower classes were brave enough to express their hope for a better life via the architectural models. These building models correspondingly reflected the political desire and expectation of higher social status.

With regard to the previously mentioned questions about roof form and statues on ridges, the study articulates that even though people created models beyond regulations and ignored the pragmatic limitations of construction, the standard of judging whether a life would be good was inherited because their ancestors should be able to understand the message that they sent. As mentioned previously, the standards and meanings of both the roof form and the statues on the ridge were revived and utilized to express the desire for a better life in the future. This tendency to reuse the old, outdated styles and traditions to express one’s pursuit is also reflected by other examples: there was a set of wine containers excavated from a tomb at Tianmaqu Village that were crafted in the vassal state of North Zhao (907– 922 CE), but the style mimicked the form of the wine container used in a much earlier dynasty—the Shang. The same situation is also found in other excavations, such as in the Guoguo tomb at Sanmengxia, Henan province and a tomb at Baoshan, Hubei province.46

After the Han dynasty, there was turmoil for nearly half a century. The economy collapsed, and people could no longer afford luxurious mortuary objects to fulfil the worship of their ancestors. Additionally, as the society grew more unstable, grave robbery became rampant. As depicted in the extant literature, almost every grave was robbed during that turbulent period.47 The government started recommending frugal funerals. Emperor Wen, Cao Pei 曹丕, of the Wei Kingdom during the Three 151

Kingdoms period said that regardless of the era, no dynasty could last forever. Similarly, there were few graves that could escape robbery. Emperor Wen reported that there were many graves of the Han dynasty that were robbed and destroyed; thus, he concluded that a luxurious tomb would consequently incur a higher risk of being robbed. Grave robbery was considered to be the same as bringing misfortune to ancestors. 48 As a result, there were fewer and fewer buried architectural models. Although according to archaeological excavation, this convention extended to the Jin dynasty, the applied craftsmanship grew inferior.49 During the Sui and Tang dynasties, both the economy and technology grew, and exquisite architectural models for ancestors began to be constructed again. For example, a glazing and coloured model of a courtyard house was excavated at Zhongbao Village, Xi’an, Shanxi province. During the late Tang dynasty, thanks to papermaking technology, models made of paper were gradually substituted for the ceramic ones. The custom of using paper models continued to develop in the Song dynasty when the manufacturing technology for producing paper became more advanced.

4.1.2 ‘Ancestor’ and ‘Hall’: A View of Domestic Life

Buried underground, the building models entombed with a family’s ancestors could hardly be observed in day-to-day life. Another cultural heritage that is also expressed in the form of architecture is an indispensable instrument in residential houses. This type of instrument was used for daily ancestor worship and was delicately made with vivid details and treated as a sacred object. Although it did not have a pragmatic function, it had never been an unnecessary part of the household even for poor families because it had a strong association with the honour of their ancestors and the future of the family. In fact, these objects are still in use today and are particularly popular around Dali in southwestern China. However, they have not yet drawn much attention from the academic community. This study suggests that this object of worship echoed the meaning of those ancient entombed building models that had been phased out around the Sui and Tang dynasties. Both categories of architectural artwork reflected how ‘the past’

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was associated with ‘the better life’, though they differed in their influence on inhabitants and the way in which they were presented.

The object frequently used by the living people is called Xiwu Haoge in the local dialect in Dali. ‘Xiwu’ means ‘ancestor’, and ‘Haoge’ means ‘house’. They are thus known as the ‘ancestors’ house’. The ancestors’ house is located in an important and sacred room. This room is called da tang 大堂 (large hall), which is on the upper floor of the central building. The upper floor was the largest space of the entire courtyard house. The ground floor beneath the large hall was usually separated into three bays: the middle room, which was a hall similar to a living room, and two side rooms, which were used as bedrooms. In pre-modern Chinese houses, only the middle part of the central building could be called tang 堂 (hall). The central position of the ‘hall’ expressed a higher level of class according to the spatial hierarchy of a symmetric pre-modern Chinese courtyard.

4.1.2.1 The ‘hall’ and domestic space The ‘hall’ was the nucleus of the pre-modern Chinese family house. Typically, the pre-modern Chinese courtyard house could be categorised into three types of spaces: ting 庭 (courtyard), tang 堂 (hall) and shi 室 (inner room). They played different roles and each had a different hierarchical status in the domestic space. The hall ranked highest culturally and was embodied in physical buildings through a meaningful placement. The hall was distinguished from the courtyard by its height and appeared to be more dominant than inner rooms. The hall was raised up by a platform and stairs. ‘堂下谓之庭’50 (The area downstairs was called the courtyard). Shi (inner room) was deeper inside and was the more private part of the house. Usually, only family members or very close friends were allowed to enter; thus, Confucius used the profound difference between tang (hall) and shi (inner room) to explain a stage in which one had knowledge of something but had still not obtained in-depth understanding. Such a condition was depicted figuratively as an individual who had stepped up into the hall but had not yet entered the inner room.51 The main hall was a special domestic space that was not for living but for negotiating affairs and conducting meetings and rites.

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The hall was the place in which important events, such as rituals, weddings, funerals and family meetings, were conducted. To invite guests to the ‘hall’ was a way of showing them respect. The Analects of Confucius records a story of how Confucius behaved elegantly to a respectable blind musician whose name was Mian 冕. In the story, his politeness was conveyed through the interaction between people and the building. When Mian visited Confucius, Confucius came to welcome him by gently reminding Mian, ‘here are the steps’. After they climbed up the stairs and entered the hall, Confucius told Mian, ‘here is the cushion’. After Mian sat, others followed and sat. Then, Confucius introduced each person to the musician one by one.52 Thus, ‘the hall’ was an important domestic space for family life.53

4.1.2.2 The name of the ‘hall’, clan and ancestors

Tanghao 堂号 can be directly translated as ‘the name of the hall’ because it is a combination of two characters: tang (the hall) and hao (name, symbol or code). At the same time, it was also the title representing a family or clan.54 In practice, the popular convention was that the family would write their tanghao in large characters on an inscribed board and hang it above the door to their hall. Tanghao often appeared in the form ‘XX tang’ (‘XX hall’). The notebook used to record the family tree of a clan was usually titled ‘the Family Tree of XX tang with the family name’, such as Ziyang Tang Zhu Shi Zongpu 紫阳堂朱氏宗谱 (The family tree of the Ziyang Hall of the Zhus). Both orally and in written form, ‘XX hall’ represented a family or clan.

The meaning of tanghao (the name of the hall) could be further explored by gaining insight into how a tanghao was generated. It often came from stories of ancestral glory or the name of the place from which their ancestors emigrated. For example, a clan whose family name was Wang assigned themselves a tanghao of Sanhuai Tang 三槐堂 (the hall of three Chinese scholar trees).55 The History of the Song Dynasty records that a scholar named Wang You 王祜, who was a literate man, had his own way of educating his sons. Once he planted three Chinese scholar trees by himself and said that ‘among my descendants there should be three outstanding young men such as these three Chinese scholar trees.’ 56 After growing up, his sons all behaved very well, especially Wang Dan 王旦, who was 154

placed in a senior position, equivalent to a modern prime minister, in the government of the Song dynasty. Therefore, this honourable history was cited in the title of the clan when they named themselves ‘the Hall of Three Chinese Scholar Trees’, and they expected the descendants of the clan to be successful and to have bright futures as Wang You’s sons. Some families may choose the hometown of their ancestors as their tanghao, such as Poyang tang 鄱阳堂 (Poyang Hall) for a Tang family and Longxi Tang 陇西堂 (Longxi Hall) for a Li family.57

The name of the hall acted as a link between the family and their ancestors, connecting family tradition with hopes for the future. Beyond this, the hall was a place for the living to connect with their ancestors through daily activities and rituals. It was a place for both commemorating the deceased and praying for the living.

4.1.2.3 A ‘house’ in the house Villagers in the places where I conducted fieldwork applied exquisite craftsmanship and spent substantial money to construct small-scale building models to place in the halls of their houses.58 This type of small building was not decoration but the accommodation provided for ancestors within the home of the living. In this culture of filial piety and ancestor worship, there was a doctrine that people should treat their dead family members as though they were still alive.59 Therefore, keeping a decent building model for one’s ancestors would be seen as admirable.

This miniature house was usually exquisitely constructed and decorated with considerable detail. The structures and decorations, which were rarely used in the houses of the local inhabitants, could be easily observed in the ancestors’ houses; they included such details as elaborately carved dougong, meticulously painted beams and other rich ornamentation.

For example, in the house of the Ouyang family in Shaxi Town, Jianchuang County, a whole bay of the back wall was transformed into a miniaturized house for the family’s ancestors (Figure 4-1). This building model was located in the largest hall, which is the highest room on the upper floor. Unlike real buildings, the roof was 155

replaced by pieces of carvings slanted atop the house. The effect displayed was meant to symbolize auspicious clouds. The carving above the central bay depicted two face-to-face phoenixes (Figure 4-2). This image evoked the ancient tradition of using phoenix statues on roofs. However, as this was just the dwelling of wealthy peasant family, there is a lack of solid literature about the initial purposes of the structure, but the descendants who were living in this house explained that the carving of the phoenix signified the empress dowager Ci Xi 慈禧. This miniature house for their ancestors was constructed when Ci Xi was in power and exercised actual control over the country rather than the empire. At that time, the dragon was usually used to symbolize the empire, but the phoenix was used to represent women who took on powerful positions.

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Figure 4-1 The house for ancestors of the Ouyang family in Shaxi Town, Dali state, Yunnan Province (photo by the author)

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Figure 4-2 The two phoenixes atop of the ancestors’ house (photo by the author)

In some cases, the buildings for ancestors in the domestic hall were reduced in size. In a case in Taoyuan Village, the ancestors’ house was smaller and more like a real building (Figure 4-3). There were doors that could be opened and closed in this building model. Information about ancestors was written on the back walls behind these small lattice doors (Figure 4-4). This wooden building model was found in a nearly collapsed house, which was built in the Qing dynasty. Compared to the real house that held this model, the miniature was much more exquisite and delicate, making the surreal tone of its architectural expression even more apparent. The owner found this small house for ancestors in his hall and felt very proud of it, so he carefully preserved it (Figure 4-5) and maintained the habit of regularly worshiping his ancestors in front of this architectural model.

Figure 4-3 An ancestors’ house in Taoyuan village (photo by the author)

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Figure 4-4 Information about ancestors was written on the back wall of the building model behind the lattice doors (photo by the author)

Figure 4-5 The owner preserved the building model carefully (Photo by the author)

A more simplified form of the ancestors’ house was a pair of lattice doors with highly abstracted eaves and columns (Figure 4-6). Though simplified, the craftsmanship of the doors was meticulous, and they could be opened. Behind them, there were hanging tablets. Detailed information about ancestors was written on these tablets (Figure 4-7).

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Figure 4-6 Simplified ancestors’ houses (photos by the author)

Figure 4-7 The tablets with ancestors’ information were installed behind the doors (photos by the author)

The simplest form of these structures could be a square hole opened on the back wall of the hall (Figure 4-8). The term used to describe this form of ancestors’ accommodation was Xiwu Kong. In the local dialect, ‘Xiwu’ means ‘ancestor’ and ‘Kong’ means ‘cave’. This ancestors’ house was the embodiment of a prototype of the local dwellings. With close observation, one could notice that there were timber frameworks around these caves that resembled beams, columns, architraves and cornices (Figure 4-9). Similar to the real house, there were couplets pasted on the top and both sides.

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Figure 4-8 The cave-like niche for ancestors (photos by the author)

Figure 4-9 The niche decorated with carvings mimicking architectural structures (photo by the author)

The contents of the couplets reflected two previously addressed themes: memorializing the family’s ancestors and praying for the future. The most popular sentence might be ‘祖德流芳’ (Figure 4-10), which literally means to wish that the goodness of the ancestors would continue and last forever. Thus, the wish for a bright future was integrated with sustaining the past—the family tradition.

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Figure 4-10 Different cases with the written wishes ‘祖德流芳’ (the goodness of ancestors will long last) (photos by the author)

4.1.2.4 Ancestors and domestic life Rituals have always been highlighted as an indispensable part of Chinese ancestor worship. Through these rituals, architecture and the culture of ancestor worship were connected in a dynamic way. One could observe how much these rituals were emphasised in pre-modern Chinese ancestor worship from the ancient graphic form of Chinese characters that represented ‘ancestor’. This representation vividly showed a strong association between the belief in ancestors and rituals. As previously mentioned, the Chinese word for ‘ancestors’ is zuzong ‘祖宗’. The first character, ‘祖’, was written as ‘ ’ in old Chinese. It was assembled by the left part

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‘ ’ and the right ‘ ’. 60 Xu Shen explained in Shuowen jiezi (Explaining and Analysing Chinese Text and Characters) that the meaning and pronunciation of this combined character could be traced from its two components.61 Both imply rituals and cults. The left part ‘ ’ is easy to comprehend, as in modern Chinese characters it is still related to rituals, liturgies, sacredness and deity. The right part

‘ ’ initially appeared as an early hieroglyphic character ‘ ’, which was carved on oracle-bone scripts. This symbol represented the male genitals. A sacrificial vessel mimicking the male genital organ was an important part of the early cult of fertility in Chinese history.62

The ancient graphic form of the term ‘ancestor’ indicated the role of rituals. Rituals were an indispensable part of the culture of ancestor worship. Additionally, both ancestors and descendants can be observed as the focus of these rituals since ancient times because a symbol relevant to procreation was highlighted.

Ancestors were not only physically represented as sharing the homes of the living through their own smaller dwellings in the hall, but they were also spiritually omnipresent because talking to ancestors was a daily routine and marked the beginning of the day, especially for female family members. For example, in Xizhou village, the first thing people are expected to do after waking is to talk to their ancestors in front of their tiny ‘dwelling’ in the hall. The descendants would respectfully burn incense for their ancestors and tell them about the family. If the descendant had a nightmare, she would immediately report this potential ominous sign to ancestors and pray for their blessing and protection.

Beyond daily worship and communication, ancestors were extravagantly worshiped on certain special dates, such as Zhongyuan 中元, a very important festival. As early as half a month before the Zhongyuan Festival, the spirits of a family’s ancestors would be invited to the house and stay with the family.63 The hall in which ancestors were worshiped would be meticulously arranged to welcome them. A series of special belongings would be prepared to help them enjoy their stay. Family members worked together to clean the house, especially

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the hall and the sacred altar for their ancestors. After cleaning, the family would prepare amenities for their ancestors’ stay.

A collection of offerings would be carefully prepared. The offerings included joss papers (money that could be spent in hell) and articles for everyday use during the ancestors’ stay (Figure 4-11, Figure 4-12). The articles included clothes, quilts, pillows, bed sheets and cushions (Figure 4-13). They were all made from paper and had the name of each ancestor written on them so that the ancestors could conveniently find their own belongings. Skilful women were responsible for making paper bed sets and clothes, while others made joss papers.

Figure 4-11 The family works together to prepare a welcome for their ancestors (photos by the author)

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Figure 4-12 An altar with offerings (photo by the author)

Figure 4-13 Prepared clothes and bed sets for ancestors (photos by the author)

An important part of this process was the writing of a short letter that included information about the family’s ancestors on the paper offerings. This was usually performed by the younger generation. This was a good opportunity for the

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descendants to learn more about their ancestors. At the same time, it was also a chance for their ancestors to know who was worshiping them. On the paper clothes were the names of the ancestors and the years in which they passed away as well as the hometowns, addresses and names of their descendants (Figure 4-14). On pugai qian 铺盖签 (the label of bedding sets), the letter would be written in the following format: ‘Descendants: XX … (the names of all descendants who have contributed) prepare for XX (the name of the ancestor) to stay at home’.

Figure 4-14 A letter that comes with offerings (photos by the author)

Having prepared a place for their ancestors to stay, the family would invite the ancestors into the house. Incense was burned at the entrance of the house. The head of the family, who was usually the oldest male, led the whole family in reading prayers for their ancestors, kneeling down and serving tea and wine to the arriving spirits. The names of their ancestors would be chanted reverentially in the sequence of their generations. After their ancestors were welcomed at the gate, all the offerings would be brought into the hall, which meant that the ancestral spirits had entered the house and could be guided into the hall. Subsequently, a great banquet would be offered, as ancestors were supposed to be very hungry from the journey home. This banquet was accompanied by religious rituals performed by the whole family. From this welcoming day, the family’s ancestors were regarded as being accommodated in the home, and thus they would be served meals every day. They were very respectable, so there were four meals served for them each day, and incense would be burned at the same time.

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On the eve of the Zhongyuan Festival, the ancestors would be sent back. Another great banquet, which consisted of ten traditional courses, would be provided to the ancestors and placed in the hall all day long before the evening. Once again, the head of the household would lead the family in kneeling, reading prayers and worshiping their ancestors. In the evening, all the prepared paper gifts were burned one by one and ashes were collected in a large pot. The entire process was accompanied by murmuring the written contents of the letters to the ancestors. At last, the collected ash was wrapped into a gift bag that was then bound by a piece of large pumpkin leaf. The bag was finally sent out on the current of a river at the foot of the village.

In addition to the annual ancestral return, communicating with ancestors also occurred at other important events. 64 Almost all important milestones in the descendants’ lives, including birth, marriage, building a new house, and finally death, would have to be reported to their ancestors.

4.1.3 Conclusion

This section reveals how the profound connection with the past has functioned as a cultural characteristic sustaining pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture. In practice, this cultural characteristic is significantly embodied through the belief of ancestor worship in pre-modern China. Progress brings hope for the future. Architecture is a principle to express the hope for the future, but more specifically, there are many different ways to express the exception for a better future in the architectural language. People can build imaginative buildings, manage to apply breakthrough technologies, or challenge the possible height of construction. This section emphasises the pre-modern Chinese way of imagining the future through the past.

Wishes, imagination and ambitions could be more freely pinned to architectural models in pre-modern China than to real architecture. The themes expressed in those artistic architectural models were meaningful, as they were sent to a family’s ancestors as materialized messages to request their blessings. They were an important substitute for physical changes in real buildings. On the whole, ancestor

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worship highlights the ways in which the past was used to imagine a better life in the future.

First, this section explores the history of the concept of ‘ancestor’ in ancient Chinese and finds that the term originally had a profound association with architecture and that the two could not be separated. In many contexts, they were interchangeable. Architecture was seen as an important agent to venerate the past, and vice versa. Many ceramic architectural models have been excavated from tombs across China. These miniature buildings were buried in the tombs of family members and acted as a materialised dialogue between the descendants and their ancestors. This section analyses that there were many details reflecting the surreal nature of these buildings. They symbolised the expectation for the future of the descendants but were expressed in a traditional way that ancestors could understand. For example, exaggerated decorations that symbolised political power according to old building codes were applied to these architectural models. These surreal expressions could be illegal or unbuildable in real life, but among the models buried with a family’s ancestors, imagination was encouraged. Ancestors would judge whether their descendants would be blessed and worthy of these desires.

The study then investigated the influence of this culture on family houses. It was revealed that ‘the title of the hall’ came from ancestors’ stories of honour. The association between the hall of a family house and ancestor worship was profound. Another type of architectural model was also noteworthy. These architectural models were placed in the hall of family house. It was believed that ancestors could settle into these miniature houses and live with their descendants to protect and bless them as well as inspect and evaluate them. Finally, the study highlighted that rituals were also an important link between the past and future. Rituals were relevant not only in day-to-day life but also during festivals and important events, such as childbirth should be reported to ancestors so that to obtain a blessed future for the child from ancestors. The study revealed how these activities kept the culture dynamic.

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4.2 Hassan Fathy: Between the Past and a Better Life

Among numerous modernists in the field, Hassan Fathy was a thoughtful architect who had a deep concern for the past. New Gourna was the project that brought Fathy to international attention, and it was also a dialogue between the past and the future. In this project, Fathy envisaged a community: the villagers of Old Gourna. This study emphasises that unlike the architect, the villagers tended to retain their traditional thought patterns. For them, ‘the past’ was not only an indispensable part of life but also an important reference that guided their imagination of the future.

This study makes two key points. First, in facing the past, the architect more or less ignores details that may have profoundly influenced people’s view of the future. Second, to conceive the future, the architect focused on what was absent or lacking from Old Gourna, with the aim of changing the status quo. Fathy devoted himself in searching for national identity in architecture, attempting to rejuvenate traditional techniques and making efforts to introduce artistic life to the village. Among these, how to help villagers conceive their future based on their own deep-rooted past was less heeded.

Finally, this study suggests that in the project of New Gourna, Fathy may have achieved his long-term goal of evoking people’s admiration of tradition because the villagers realised how important their connection with the past was and finally chose to continue living in their old village. Although the architect himself thought New Gourna was a failure, the project reinforced the connection between the past and future of the old community in another way.

4.2.1 About the Past and Future

4.2.1.1 About the past The project of New Gourna was a relocation of Old Gourna, which was located near important historical sites, such as the Valleys of Kings, Queens and Nobles. The west of Old Gourna held a tourist attraction, the Temple of Seti I. Fathy emphasised that Gournis were suspected of continuing the old occupation of tomb

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robbery and clarified that ‘Yet the operations of these tomb robbers should not be viewed too light-heartedly. For all their (Gournis’) skill, for all their likableness, and in spite of their undeserved poverty, the damage they do is measureless’.65

Because Fathy’s project of New Gourna was funded by the Egyptian Department of Antiquities, which was tasked with protecting antique items and structures, his statement about the drawbacks of Old Gourna had official acknowledgement. With Fathy’s growing fame, there was increasing literature that repeated his report about the Gournis being tomb robbers. However, Timothy indicated a lack of solid evidence for this.66

In Fathy’s review of the project, he narrated a series of his personal experiences. These experiences suggested an association between the Egyptian poor and the habit of stealing. However, it seems that neither these stories were relevant to the Gournis, nor should they be put together as supporting factors to legitimate the project. Fathy’s friend, Taher Omari, told him an unpleasant story about something that happened at Sedmant el Gabal in Northern Egypt, far from Gourna’s location in the central area of the country. This friend owned a farm on high land at Sedmant el Gabal. Because of this special terrain, Taher Omari could not monitor the farm from the lower location in which he was living. Finally, the friend found that all roofs of the buildings on his farm were stolen, and he claimed that they were stolen by villagers in that area.67 Another story also happened far from Gourna in a village called Ezbet el Basry near Cairo. Fathy assumed that Ezbet el Basry ‘was inhabited largely by thieves’,68 and narrated a story about how Amin Rusturm’s two tires were stolen in the village.69

This criticism did not help the villagers appreciate the new village; instead, the villagers were stimulated to reject the project. Fathy found that it was hard to promote the project, ‘largely due to their (Gournis) reluctance to do anything which might later be construed as an acceptance of the plan for removing them’. 70 Because existence of New Gourna relied on a belief that Gournis were guilty of these crimes, how could Gournis be pleased with New Gourna? It would be natural for ‘convicted’ people to reject the person who believed they were guilty.

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The primary goal of the project was to relocate Gournis from Old Gourna to a new location, which was chosen to be further from the relics. However, the new location created a series of problems. Old Gourna was near tourist attractions, and Gournis villagers ran many small businesses as their main sources of income, such as groceries stores and accommodations. The location of New Gourna, however, faced several problems. For example, there was a canal in front of the site, and Fathy wishfully believed that tourists would leave the ferry and go into New Gourna half way to the antiquity sites. But because the location of New Gourna was too far away from the tourist attractions, tourists were rarely willing to go ashore.71 Worse still, villagers would not have arable land in New Gourna. Therefore, they were supposed to live by selling crafts. To develop local crafts business, Fathy designed an exhibition hall, markets and crafts school, but they were all unused. This study revealed that to imbue a community with an individual’s vision was very difficult, especially when the individual held a different perspective on the past and future.

It may be useful to revisit the history of the village of Gourna, which unfortunately did not draw much of Fathy’s attention. Forty years before Fathy’s involvement, the monarchy was suspended and Khedive authority became weaker. The land where Gourna was located was quickly sold to a local magnate named Boulos Hanna Pasha to pay large foreign debts to Britain. When that happened, the land and houses of the villagers living in the area were suddenly taken over by Boulos Hanna Pasha. Although there were violent protests, the villagers were ultimately forced to become sharecroppers.72

Ironically, after forty years, the site of New Gourna needed to be bought from Boulos Hanna Pasha, who had ‘robbed’ the villagers of their land years earlier. To pay Boulos Hanna Pasha, Gournis’ houses in Old Gourna would be appraised and the money from selling these old houses would be collected by Fathy, who in turn would use this money to pay Boulos Hanna Pasha for the new land that was used to build New Gourna. Note, however, that the appraised value of the Gournis’ old houses was the only compensation for their tremendous losses under Boulos Hanna Pasha. Because of New Gourna, villagers would be forced to sell their old houses again and would not have the right to allocate the money themselves.

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Instead, the money would be used to buy a small amount of land for New Gourna from the same landowner who took their property away forty years ago. Emotionally, the deal was unacceptable. The unforgettable past would profoundly impact Gournis’ perspective of a good life.

In addition to criticising the Gournis’ past and ignoring the villagers’ history, there was also a hygiene issue in New Gourna. Old Gourna was located high on a hillside, but the new location was lower and the water table was high in the area, especially after the construction of the Aswan Dam. Therefore, waterborne parasites created a hygiene problem. Even worse, the site of New Gourna could not be flushed by the annual flood, so the problem of parasites was more serious.73 To combat this problem, Fathy composed a drama to educate Gournis children about how to protect themselves from biharzia.74 Fathy hoped to have the drama performed on the stage of the newly built theatre that he designed for New Gourna, but unfortunately, the theatre was seldom used.

4.2.1.2 About the future There were three main improvements that the architect designed to create a better future in the project of New Gourna. They were highly valued by the architect and were also admired by his professional peers. However, this study suggests that these changes demonstrated how the past was disconnected from the future in the architect’s progressive journey. The three aspects are aesthetic pursuit and romantic life, the search for national identity, and the focus on techniques. Fathy tried to bring Gournis a better life by creating what was previously absent or by adding what was new. With the connection between the past and future weakened, these improvements and innovations could hardly be accepted by people of Old Gourna. Some romantic aspects seemed attractive only to elites but not to the villagers. As many of the villagers’ basic needs failed to be accommodated, more elaborate achievements seemed pointless.

4.2.1.2.1 Aesthetic pursuit and romantic life

Fathy endowed New Gourna with a special beauty by constructing domes. However, considering their practicability for everyday life and the meanings that 172

they conveyed, villagers could not appreciate their beauty at all. The disconnection between the designed better life and the villagers’ past was striking.

Houses in Old Gourna were built with flat roofs. This architectural form had been part of Gournis’ lives because it was easy to add a new storey on top of a flat roof. Such flexibility in expansion was necessary for Gournis because they preferred to keep different generations living together and sharing the family house. Usually a father would build an upper floor for his married son.75 This was an indispensable part of the Gournis’ view of the ‘good life’, but domes would make it impossible to expand upwards. Furthermore, for the local people, the dome held religious meaning; villagers believed that it represented tombs or mosques, and thus they thought houses with domes would bring them bad luck. As a result, villagers protested against the construction strongly.

Another aesthetic tool applied by Fathy was precise proportion. However, it is questionable whether aesthetic value can substitute for utilitarian function. Hassan Fathy received training in the Beaux-arts tradition.76 Fathy’s early works, such as Talka Primary School, showed that he fully adhered to the Beaux-arts style. Ratio and proportion were important for this pedagogy. In Fathy’s later works, from courtyards to fenestration, he applied a range of beautiful proportions. The golden ratio commonly appeared in Fathy’s designs. 77 Fathy not only emphasised proportion, geometry and massing but also utilized these tools in a way that resembled a mathematical game.78 Despite the proportion between houses and courtyards appearing to have aesthetic value, Fathy’s space allocation was not pragmatic for the Gournis’ lives. By the Gournis’ convention, a space for house chores, such as washing and raising livestock, was an important necessity; a space with golden ratio not.79

A range of public buildings were elaborately designed for the village of New Gourna, including a theatre, Turkish bath, gymnasium, exhibition hall, crafts school, khan, hotel and Coptic Church. The existence of these buildings was understandable because they represented a higher quality of life for the villagers. Surprisingly, these facilities that were analogous to ‘the icing on the cake’ were built first. Given the limited budget and available land, only one-third of the planned 173

New Gourna was built. Ironically, most of the public buildings had already been finished.

It is easy to see the importance of these public buildings for the architect. This was probably the aspect of the design of which he was proudest. These public buildings seemed to be used as a showcase to promote the project. Once the theatre was completed, Fathy immediately organized a celebration and invited guests from Cairo. Eye-catching posters of the event were displayed, and guests were guided to their seats by torchlight, accompanied by drums. 80 Fathy designed a large square in front of the theatre but overestimated the number of people who would use it.

The activities that Fathy expected villagers to conduct were far from their lives and disconnected from their past, so these public buildings were mainly left unused. The squatters who eventually occupied the houses did not use the public buildings, either. The gymnasium and theatre serve as examples. Although the gymnasium and theatre were popular in Greece, and Egypt was declared a part of Greece during the period of the Ptolemy, these facilities were not part of the Gournis’ idea of a good life.

Designing a better life for the Gournis by promoting aesthetic pursuits and romantic activities was far from their past. Both the high aesthetic standards influenced by the Beaux-art tradition and the associated activities were admirable from the perspective of elites, but for the Gournis, they may have been too romantic, and thus unattractive.

4.2.1.2.2 Searching for national identity

Although Fathy tried to connect to the local and the vernacular, as a professional architect, he could hardly escape the prevailing values of this era, nor could he be completely insulated against the influence of his professional circle. Consequently, his modern views contributed to his vision of ‘the future’.

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On the tide of decolonization, many countries grew zealous in their search for new national identities through architectural expression during the twentieth century, especially in the post-war period. The project of New Gourna was carried out approximately between 1945 and 1967. It was during the period that Egypt became an independent country. Egypt was officially independent from Britain in 1922, but the country was still under British control for years. Egypt became truly independent with the foundation of the republic on 18 June, 1953.

During this period, the tendency to re-establish national identity was prevalent. Fathy also showed a great sense of social responsibility by choosing to stand in the patriotic camp and engage in efforts to search for national identity in architecture.81 Fathy claimed his anti-colonial position by expressing his concern, when local archtiects turned twards foreign architecture, ‘they discarded all these groups of tradesman and artisans.’ The local arts, expecially the tradition of architecture, would disappear gradually and the country could no longer distinguish itself with a recognisable identity.82 Fathy’s stance and attitude received many compliments in his professional and academic communities. James Steele commented that ‘his (Hassan Fathy’s) greatest achievement, rather than built work, lies in his having been one of the very few to call attention to the value of traditional integrity and cultural identity at a time when the people of the Middle East were strenuously attempting to eradicate and deny this heritage’.83 Panayiota concluded that Fathy used mud brick courtyard houses to defend ‘an Egyptian tradition’.84

Because of his double identity as an architect and a scholar, it is reasonable for Fathy to search for a national identity. However, for the villagers who were still struggling against poverty and still doubted their own local culture, such pursuit seemed elusive and obscure, especially when it materialised as architectural symbols. When villagers’ daily life and production activities were hindered by these symbolised facilities, those high-level concerns about how to search for national identity in architecture could hardly be accepted. The architect grafted his patriotism to a part of the villagers’ pursuit for a better life and assumed that the locals would have the same realisation.

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Fathy narrated an episode in detail about how he educated a carpenter in realising the glory of pursuing a national identity and changing his way of making doors back to a tradition style—Sabras. The manufacturing process required small wooden strips to be nailed together into a door. Because of its complexity, carpenters did not like to follow this traditional way of making a door, and sabras became unpopular in Egypt. Fathy could discern the value of the traditional technique, so he commanded the carpenter, Ibrahim Aglan, to make sabras for houses in New Gourna. Aglan said that, as a well-trained carpenter, he would feel embarrassed making sabras. The architect was annoyed, as he thought an Egyptian carpenter should have been proud of making sabras as a symbol of national identity. He responded that Aglan was ‘not an Egyptian’. Fathy continued to comment on the carpenter’s professional identity. Because of his ignorance in the revival of a national identity, Fathy blamed Aglan as ‘no craftsman, a clumsy woodchopper who wasn’t worthy of his tools’.85 Finally, Aglan agreed to make sabras.

If a symbol was disconnected from the community’s past, its legitimacy may be questioned, especially when the symbol was not only useless but also inconvenient. This situation may confuse the villagers, as they were forced to detach from their past on the one hand, but on the other hand, they were expected to appreciate the symbol of national identity that was supposed to derive from their tradition. To search for a prototype for creating an architectural form to symbolise national identity, Fathy tried to purify a Nubian style, especially by using the mud brick dome. The source of this inspiration was irrelevant to the Gournis.

The process of this decision was as follows. Hassan Fathy’s elder brother, Ali, was an expert engineer. Because Ali was assigned as a director for the Aswan Dam near Gharb Aswan, he noticed Nubian architecture that might be of interest to his brother, so he asked Hassan to come and visit. Gharb Aswan was a Nubian village far away from Gourna and close to Sudan. At Gharb Aswan, Fathy remarked that ‘on entering the first village, Gharb Aswan, I knew that I had found what I had come for’. A ‘harmonious’ and ‘beautiful’ view was formed by ‘house after house, tall, easy, roofed cleanly with a brick vault’. The condition of the buildings at Gharb Aswan was such that ‘architecture had been preserved for centuries

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uncontaminated by foreign influences’. 86 As a result, Fathy exclaimed that ‘I realized that I was looking at the living survivor of traditional Egyptian architecture’.87

This way of assuming Nubian styles for New Gourna considerable confusion. Domes were associated with religion and tombs in the Gournis’ eyes. The meaning of the dome made its utilization in residential houses elusive. Moreover, Mitchell noted that the distinctiveness of the language, culture and history of Gharb Aswan from the rest of Egypt demonstrated a heterogeneous origin. Even the local people of Gharb Aswan did not regard their buildings as typical representatives of traditional Egyptian architecture. In line with the Egyptian government, which did not officially identify the Nubians as an ethnicity, Fathy understood Nubian architectural form as an iconic model for the new Egypt.88 The consequence was that the villagers of Gourna could hardly understand or accept this iconic model.

Architectural symbols would be an effective medium for an architect to search for national identity, yet some symbols might not only lack practical value but also evoke sensitive feelings in local cultures. The villagers’ real and deep feeling about their houses can be explored through the writing by Fatḥī Ghānim.89 Fatḥī worked as an inspector in the Ministry of Education between 1944 and 1954, and he was sent to conduct a survey in Gourna. After careful investigation, Fatḥī vividly recorded how the locals reacted to these symbolized houses. The houses were associated with monumental construction projects, such as graves, and the local people asked why they needed to live in that tomb-like place when they were still alive.90

The new houses, designed by Fathy, were built with new amenities, such as toilets, bathrooms and even a spare room for guests, but the Gouanis appeared to be anxious and felt they were deprived. One of the reasons was that their most valuable treasures—domestically raised animals—were out of their vision. Villagers explained how they valued their livestock by saying that the animals were treated as family members and that they would like to keep livestock in their domestic space to keep from feeling anxious. When they found the animals needed

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to be raised in a separated place out of their vision, they started to suffer from insomnia.91

A pursuit of a national identity was popular at specific times and often drew international attention, so it won recognition on an international scale. After visiting the newly constructed village, a Frenchwoman praised it by stating, ‘He (Fathy) is a great artist; look at this house, did you see the domed ceilings of the rooms? Did you notice the windows … you won’t see anything like them anywhere else in the world. It’s all so Egyptian. You Egyptians should all live in houses like that’.92 The houses were attractive to people from an international background because of the integration of the impressive national symbolism.

It should not be forgotten that even though the newly designed village was utilised as a sample model by the government and the architect gained an international reputation from it, the new village was ultimately a project for locals that was supposed to serve the villagers from Old Gourna.

4.2.1.2.3 A concern about techniques

The twentieth century was a time when technology saw dramatic development. Focusing on new technologies was often applauded at that time. This trend was also manifested in the professional circle of architecture. Both hi-tech and low-tech were popularly discussed. Fathy could also hardly escape the mainstream. He inevitably paid considerable attention to applied technology when he evaluated vernacular architecture, and he was eager to learn the new techniques.

Technical issues could be quantified and analysed by graphs and were much more tangible and approachable for people who had been trained professionally. The improvement or progress made in terms of technique could be easily observed, but whether the techniques that interested contemporary architects could be an effective architectural language through which to communicate with local villagers may be questioned. Including one or two traditional techniques may be an insufficient substitute for the villagers’ profound ties to their past.

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Applying ‘mud brick’ was judged to be the ‘sole hope for rural reconstruction’ by Fathy. Mud brick had several merits. There was an abundance of mud, and the price of mud was low. Fathy praised the mud brick as a ‘heaven-sent material for our country houses’. Fathy came to this conclusion from his experience of helping several rich clients build houses. He recalled that ‘in spite of their economical mud brick walls, they were not so much cheaper than houses built of conventional materials, because the timber for the roofs was expensive’.93 Subsequently, Fathy reserved a large amount of time to study the technique of using mud bricks. However, Fathy spent most of that time and energy on how to use mud bricks to build domes. Regardless of the meaning of the domes, the structure was difficult to build. Records had revealed that many buildings with domes built by Fathy collapsed.94 Despite these, Fathy persisted in using mud bricks.

Commercial timber in Egypt needed to be imported from Romania, but during the Second World War, international trade stumbled, and thus the price of commercial timber increased. Fathy primarily obtained this building material through importation, but the local people used an alternative timber. Around the village of Gourna, there was an ample source of palm trees. Such free stalks had been adopted by the villagers to build houses for years. The architect endeavoured to prove the advantage of mud bricks through a series of experiments, and he managed to convince both the villagers and the government to use mud bricks as substitutes for timber. After two decades, Fathy could hardly have predicted that mud would become scarce and the government would have to enact legislation to ban the use of mud in the 1980s.95

Fathy had also evaluated vernacular architecture from a technical standpoint. Specifically, he studied technical aspects that included thermodynamics and human comfort, sun factors, wind factors and humidity factors.96 Data was used to evaluate vernacular architecture. The buildings were more or less treated as physical structures rather than meaningful vessels that contained inhabitants’ pasts as well as their futures. Sophisticated data and complex diagrams were useful in convincing professionals, but whether this could break through the elusive barrier between modern architects and the villagers.

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Regarding the effectiveness of technological data, it may be worthwhile to rethink the above-mentioned issues. Although the methods of building domes by mud bricks seemed economical and had been proved to be beneficial by Fathy and his assistants, some accidents involving collapses and confusing cultural implications may reduce the aura of the proposal, especially when the principal building material, mud bricks, became scarce.

4.2.2 The Power of the Connection between the Past and Future

As a result of this project, both the architect and Gournis were left disappointed. Fathy thought the villagers could not understand his good intentions and complained ‘in spite of these good intentions, however, I found at Gourna that it was very difficult to interest the peasants in their new houses’.97 Fathy could not understand and felt indignant that ‘even the peasants [were] hostile to the Gourna project’.98 It should not seem strange that the Gournis’ resistance was strong, but we may not see the inner panic of the villagers when they were urged to disconnect from their past. They could not imagine a better life in the manner in which the architect did.

Worse yet, a communal belief formed among the villagers that they should unite to reject the project of New Gourna. Gradually, this belief gave rise to a criterion of justice held by the community. When Fathy conducted a survey on the preferences of the villagers, he invited families to visit the new houses he designed. Aly Abu Bakr brought his family to attend this event. Upon his return, the family was blamed by the rest of villagers because they were regarded as traitors. 99 Such belief developed rapidly and finally started causing conflicts.

Envisaging villagers’ continuous resistance and the result that most of the design was left unbuilt, Fathy expressed his sorrow and even thought of his project in New Gourna as a failure. He sighed ‘the village was never finished’ and stated ‘the Gourna experiment failed’.100 Fathy’s design was not developed after he left. ‘Not only was nothing done to complete Gourna, but no attempt was made to find other practical ways of getting peasant houses built’. The situation even became worse.

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While building at Gourna was underway, and ever since the work stopped, it has been represented by ministerial architects as, at the politest, an interesting failure, a sentimental excursion along a by road that could never lead to success.101

However, this case study argues that Fathy did not fail in the project of New Gourna, but realized his initial dream. Although Fathy’s dream was not realized as he planned, the power of the deep-rooted connection between past and future was manifested and strengthened. Hence, it is necessary to revisit Fathy’s initial dream.

Fathy had a dream of evoking Egyptian people’s confidence in their traditions. He hoped that poor villagers could boycott the influence exerted by vogue architecture, and ‘revive the peasant’s faith in his own culture’.102 Fathy once said: I hoped that Gourna might just hint at a way to begin a revived tradition of buildings, that others might later take up the experiment, extend it, and eventually establish a cultural barricade to stop the slide into false and meaningless architecture that was gathering speed in Egypt.103 What concerned Fathy was that ‘exposed as they were to the influence of the meretricious buildings in the provincial towns nearby, they would probably follow these bad examples’. Observing that the old forms of architecture were gradually becoming unpopular, Fathy felt deeply concerned. For example, when he noticed that plaster windows in coloured glass were no longer popular, he felt sorrow and contemplated that ‘this sad story indicates some of the reasons why national trade has diminished and why a deterioration of cultural and artistic values in architecture has followed’.104

The following paragraphs will explain how strongly the Gournis acted to resist being moved out of their old village. Despite their method of protest not being approbatory, this reaction manifested in how determined they were to resist being moved out from their old village. They could not accept the new village that represented a different perspective of both ‘the past’ and ‘the future’. The villagers seemed unable to thoroughly express their panic at seeing the diminishing connection with the past. Instead, they used several comments to describe their uneasiness, such as their confusion over the dome and the invisible livestock shed. 181

They may also express their uneasy feelings through violent resistance. These reactions of the Gournis implied their strong connection the past. Seeing this connection would be broken soon, the strong emotion of rebellion exploded.

Gournis used their own methods to protect their old village and struggled to continue living in the old house. Despite the improper way of resistance, the determination of these villagers was obvious. As Fathy recalled, in the summer of 1946, one year after the project started, he was told that the Gournis ‘were plotting to destroy the growing village by breaking the dikes that held out the river water during the annual flood’. ‘It would be too easy for them, one dark night when the river was in full flood, to creep down and dig through the dikes that protected the hosha’.105 To address the Gournis’ reaction, ‘a constant patrol of twelve watchmen to guard the west dike (this was a private one belonging to Kamel Boulos; the other three all belonged to the Government and were well-guarded)’ and ‘many bundles of reeds to help fill in any breaches that might be made’. Fathy also ‘made the mayor of Gourna sign a statement saying that he made himself responsible for the safety of the new village’.106

However, Gournis’ resistance endured. When sugarcane had been harvested, providing an open view across the fields, an action was secretly conducted by Gournis during that seemingly peaceful period. When Fathy left the site, they destroyed the dike by digging a deep trench eight metres wide and piercing holes in the construction. New Gourna was flooded immediately. Fathy’s new buildings were immersed under the water about half a metre deep. All the mud bricks were crumbled. Afterwards police officers came to help salvage and a hundred workmen were organized to fix the ruined dike. There were very few Gournis willing to help. Under orders, a few of the Gournis joined the team to save the buildings of New Gourna, but Fathy later found that these people did not cooperate at all. On the contrary, they tried to sabotage the salvage efforts in secret. ‘While working, they had contrived to widen the gap with their feet while ostensibly filling it in with their hands’, so they were dismissed. When Fathy went back to the site, to his ‘sorrow’, ‘there were not one Gourni among the workmen, who had been forcibly recruited from neighbouring villages to deal with the crisis’.107

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Regarding the result of the New Gourna project, this study reemphasises that Fathy’s initial dream was actually realised in another way. Although the Gournis did not protect their tradition as Fathy planned, they used their own methods to demonstrate the power of the connection between their past and future in the community of Old Gourna. Regardless of the correctness of the Gournis’ decision in continuing to live in their old homes, this case indicates the different perspectives of viewing the past and future between an old community and an architect who made effort to integrate the past in his design.

4.3 Conclusion

Through the juxtaposition of the two sections, this chapter investigated how the material stability of pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture was cemented by the cultural tradition of ancestor worship. The chapter also reviewed the discrepancy in the understanding of connection to the past between an old community and an architect in the project of New Gourna.

Sustained by the cultural tradition, the past was an important guide for the imagination of the future in Section 4.1. Expectations would be sent to ancestors to indicate wishes so that those ancestors could judge whether these wishes were proper and whether their descendants deserved their blessing. The vehicle to express the wishes was not buildings but different artwork portrayed in the form of architecture. When ambitions were expressed in ways other than the physical form of the real architecture, buildings tended to present very few gratuitous material changes. Therefore, in general, architecture could evolve with a stable material nature in pre-modern China.

The second section on New Gourna demonstrates how profoundly the modern ideology of progress was imbued in Fathy’s view of the past and the vision of the future. Although Fathy was an architect who paid close attention to the past, the influence of modern idea of progress could still be observed in his design and practice. Tangible improvements and physical innovations were largely emphasised to define progress in architecture. On the one hand, the architect criticised the past and searched for what was lacking or absent in reality. In this

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process, the connection between the past and future would become weaker. On the other hand, to design for the future, tangible improvements and innovations were expected to be reflected in the physical architectural form. That said, Fathy finally consolidated the villagers’ spontaneous attachment to their past in his design as he initially expected.

In summary, how to imagine the future through the past is challenging. In the pre- modern China, the practice of admiring the past cemented the notion that the best times for humans may not always lie ahead but rather can be found in a bygone age. This would be an alternative approach to pursue progress.

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Notes to Chapter 4

1 Noret, Joël, “Between Authenticity and Nostalgia: The Making of a Yoruba Tradition in Southern Benin,” African Arts 41, no. 4 (2008). 2 Roddick, Andrew P. and Hastorf, Christine A., “Tradition Brought to the Surface,” Cambridge Archaeological Journal 20, no. 02 (2010). 3 O’Neil, Megan E., “Object, Memory, and Materiality at Yaxchilan: The Reset Lintels of Structures 12 and 22,” Ancient Mesoamerica 22, no. 02 (2011). 4 Connerton, Paul, How Societies Remember (Cambridge University Press, 1989). 5 Glen Hill, “The Aesthetics of Architectural Consumption,” The Aesthetics of Sustainable Architecture, 2011. 6 Ibid. 7 “祖，始廟也” from Xu, Shen 许慎, Shuowen jiezi 说文解字 [Explaining and analysing Chinese text and characters]. 8 Wen, Renjun 闻人军, Kao gong ji 考工记 [The records of examination of craftsman] (Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2008), 112. 9 Zhen Xuan states, “Ancestor here means a type of temple for the worship of ancestors”. 郑玄注: “祖，宗庙” from Ye, Shuxian 叶舒宪, “Yurenxiang, yubingxingqi yu zulingpaiwei 玉人像, 玉柄形器与祖灵牌位 [Jade portrait, jade handle-shaped artefact and spirit tablets of the ancestors],” Minzu Yishu 民族艺术 [National Arts], no. 3 (2013). 10 “祖,始庙也。始兼两义,新庙为始,远庙亦为始。故祔祪皆曰祖也。释诂曰：祖，始也…庙者,尊先祖貌也,古者庙以祀先祖” from Duan, Yucai 段玉裁, Shuowen jiezi zhushu 说文解字注 [Explaining and analysing Chinese text and characters annotated by Duan] (Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1815). 11 Wang, FuLi 王福利, “Fangzhongyue youwu ‘jinshi’ qi shiyong wenti xinlun 房中乐有无 ‘金石’ 器使用问题新论 [A new theory about the use of stone instruments in Fangzhong royal music],” Art of Music 3 (2008). 12 Gu, Yangui 谷衍奎, Hanzi yuanliu zidian 汉字源流字典 [Dictionary of the origin of Chinese characters] (Yuwen chubanshe, 2008), 399. 13 “宗者何谓也，宗者尊也。为先祖主者，宗人之所尊也” Ban, Gu 班固, Baihu Tong 白虎通 (Beijing tushu chubanshe, 2006). 14 Fuyi(凫鹥) in Chapter of Daya(大雅) from Shijing (The She King) 诗经 [The classics of poetry] (11c.–6c. BCE). 15 Qian, Xuan 钱玄, Zhou li 周礼 [The rites of Zhou] (Yuelu shuyuan, 2001), 189. 16 “祖,始庙也。始兼两义,新庙为始,远庙亦为始。故祔祪皆曰祖也。释诂曰：祖，始也…庙者,尊先祖貌也,古者庙以祀先祖” from Duan, Yucai 段玉裁, Shuowen jiezi zhushu 说文解字注 [Explaining and analysing Chinese text and characters annotated by Duan]. 17 Wang, Shouqian 王守谦, Zhanguo ce quanshi 战国策全译 [Strategies of the Warring States with annotation] (Guizhou renmin chubanshe, 1992), 300. 18 ‘The temple’ was used here to represent ‘ancestors’. 19 ‘The temple’ was used here to represent ‘ancestors’. 20 “愿请先王之祭器，立宗庙于薛” from ibid. 21 Xing Bing annotates in a chapter SangfuXiaoji 丧服小记 [About Mourning Apparel] of Li ji 礼记 [The book of rites] Li ji clarified “庙号不迁，最尊者祖，次曰宗，通称曰宗庙。又流派所出为宗” from Zhang, Guoshuo 张国硕, Chen, Chaoyun 陈朝云 and Wang, Baoguo 王保国, Zhongguo gudai wenming tansuo 中国古代文明探索 [The exploration of the Chinese ancient civilization] (Zhengzhou: Zhongzhou guiji chubanshe, 2006); Li, Xiangping 李向平, Wang Quan yu Shenquan 王权与神权 [Throne and Theocracy] (Shenyang: Liaoning jiaoyu chubanshe, 1991). 22 Xi’an Banpo Bowu Guan 西安半坡博物馆 [Xi’an Banpo Museum], “Shanxi Wugongxian faxian Xinshiqi shidai yizhi 陕西武功县发现新石器时代遗址 [Newly-discovered Neolithic relics at Wugong County, Shanxi],” Archaeology 2 (1975). 23 Guo, Qinghua, The Mingqi Pottery Buildings of Han Dynasty China, 206 BC-AD 220: Architectural Representations and Represented Architecture (Sussex Academic Press, 2010). 24 Zhang, Yancheng 张延成 and Dong, Shouzhi 董守志, Li ji 礼记 [The book of rites] (Beijing: Jindun chubanshe, 2010), 93. 25 Guo, Qinghua, The Mingqi Pottery Buildings of Han Dynasty China, 206 BC-AD 220, 1. 185

26 “其曰明器，神明之也” from Zhang, Yancheng 张延成 and Dong, Shouzhi 董守志, Li ji 礼记 [The book of rites] (Beijing: Jindun chubanshe, 2010), 93. 27 See Guangzhou Shi Wenwu Guanli Weiyuanhui 广州市文物管理委员会 [The Cultural Relics Committee of Guangzhou], Guangzhou Chutu Handai Taowu 广州出土汉代陶屋 [Burial pottery building models of the Han dynasty from Guangzhou] (Wenwu chubanshe, 1958); Henan Bowuguan 河南博物馆 [Henan Museum], Henan chutu Handai jianzh mingqi 河南出土汉代建筑明器 [Burial building models of the Han dynasty unearthed from Henan] 2 (Daxiang chubanshe, 2002). 28 Adding one more level of hip roof around a building at half height of the facades would add to the feeling of solemnity. 29 “殷人重屋, 堂修七寻, 堂崇三尺, 四阿重屋” from Wen, Renjun 闻人军, Kao gong ji 考工记 [The records of examination of craftsman], 223; also see Zhen Xuan’s annotation that “重屋者，王宫正堂，若大寝也” (this type of double roof is only used for the main hall of imperial palace). 30 “太庙及宫殿皆四阿施鸱尾条” from Zhongguo Shehui Kexue Xueyuan Lishi Yanjiu Suo 中国社会科学院历史研究所 [Institute of Historical Study—Chinese Academy of Social Sciences], Tianyige cangmingchaoben Tianshengling xiaozheng 天一阁藏明钞本天圣令校证: Fu Tangling fuyuan yanjiu 附唐令復原研究 [With research into the Laws of the Tang dynasty] v. 2 (Zhonghua shuju, 2006). 31 “凡宫室之制，自天子至于士庶，各有等差” from Li, Linfu 李林甫 and Zhong, Fuchen 仲夫陈, Tang Liu Dian 唐六典 [Administrative Code of the Tang Dynasty] 23 (Zhonghua shuju, 1992), 595. 32 “又准律。诸营造舍宅。于令有违者。杖一百。虽会赦令。皆令改正。其物可卖者听卖。若经赦百日不改去。及不卖者。论如律” from Wang, Pu 王溥 and Yang, Jialuo 杨家骆, Tang huiyao 唐会要 [Institutional history of the Tang dynasty] (Shijie shuju, 1963), 103; Liu, Zhangzhang 刘章璋, Tangdai Chang’an de jumin shengji yu chengshi jianshe 唐代长安的居民生计与城市政策 [Occupations, trades and urban policy of Chang’an Capital City of the Tang dynasty] (Wenjin chubanshe, 2006). 33 See Powers, Martin Joseph, Art & Political Expression in Early China (Yale University Press, 1991). 34 “爵：一级曰公士,二上造,三簪袅,四不更,五大夫,六官大夫,七公大夫,八公乘” “皆秦制,以赏内功劳” from Ban, Gu 班固, Han shu 汉书 [Book of Han] (Taibai Wenyi Chubanshe, 2006), 72. 35 Du, Baoren 杜葆仁, Xia, Zhenying 夏振英, and Hu, Lingui 呼林贵, “Donghan Situ Liuqi jiqi Jiazumu de Qingli 东汉司徒刘崎及其家族墓的清理 [The A study on of the tombs of Liuqi and his clan],” Kaogu yu Wenwu 考古与文物 [Archaeology and Cultural Relics] 5 (1986). 36 “帝曰：‘百官贪污佞邪者为谁乎？’举独对曰：‘臣从下州，超备机密，不足以别群臣。然公卿大臣数有直言者，忠贞也；阿谀苟容者，佞邪也。司徒视事六年，未闻有忠言异谋，愚心在此。’其后以事免司徒刘崎” from Fan, Ye 范晔, Hou Han shu 后汉书 [Book of the later Han] (398–445 CE), The 51st Collected Biographies of Zuozhou Huang Liezhuan 左周黄列传第五十一, Vol. 61. Also see “（阳嘉三年）十一月，壬寅，司徒刘崎、司空孔扶免，用周举之言也” from Sima, Guang 司马光, Zizhi Tongjian 资治通鉴 (1084 CE), 44th Records of the Han Dynasty, Vol. 52. 37 It is recorded that in November of the first year of the seventh era of Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty (104 BCE), Boliang Hall collapsed. “十一月乙酉，柏梁灾” recorded by Sima, Qian 司马迁 and Zhang, Dake 张大可, Shi ji 史记 [Records of the grand historian] (Beijing: Huawen chubanshe, 2000, first written ca. 94 BCE), 847; also see “十一月乙酉，未央宫柏梁台灾。先是大风发其屋” (In November, 104 BCE, Boliang Hall in Weiyang Palace perished in a disaster. Strong wind caused the fire) from Ban, Gu 班固, Han shu 汉书 [Book of Han], 169. 38 “唐会要目，汉相梁殿灾后，越巫言，‘海中有鱼虬，尾似鸱，激浪即降雨’遂作其像于尾，以厌火祥” from Li, Fang 李昉, Taiping yulan 太平御览 [A series of books edited in the Taiping period and read by Emperor Taizong of the Song dynasty]. 39 KaoguXuebao 考古学报 [Chinese Archaeology], 1965, 1. 40 Henan Bowuguan 河南博物馆 [Henan Museum], Henan chutu Handai jianzh mingqi 河南出土汉代建筑明器 [Burial building models of the Han dynasty unearthed from Henan]. 41 “周之兴也,鸑鷟鸣于岐山；其衰也，杜伯射王于鄗。是皆明神之志者也” from Zuo, Qiuming 左丘明, Guoyu 国语 [Discourses of the states] (4c. BCE), Zhouyu (I) 周语(上). 42 Shijing (The She King) 诗经 [The classics of poetry], Vol. A, Minsheng zhi Shen, Daya (大雅·生民之什·阿卷). 43 Legge, James, The She King: or, The book of186 anc ient poetry (Trübner, 1876), 316-17.

44 Wang, R., The Chinese Imperial Examination System: An Annotated Bibliography (Scarecrow Press, 2013). 45 Arbuckle, Gary, “Restoring Dong Zhongshu (195–115 BCE): An Experiment in Historical and Philosophical Reconstruction” (PhD Thesis, University of British Columbia, 1991). 46 Xu, Tianjin 徐天进 et al., “Tianma-Qucun Yizhi Beizhao Jinhou Mudi Diwuci Fajue 天马——曲村遗址北赵晋侯墓地第五次发掘 [The 5th Season of Excavation of the Tomb of Jin Marquis at the Tianma-qucun Site],” Wenwu 文物 [Cultural Relics], no. 7 (1995) see pp. 25-6 and fig. 43-7; also see Rawson, Jessica, “Western Zhou Archaeology,” The Cambridge History of Ancient China (1999); Wang, Pu 王溥 and Yang, Jialuo 杨家骆, Tang huiyao 唐会要 [Institutional history of the Tang dynasty]; Jiang, Tao 姜涛, Sanmenxia Guo Guomu 三门峡虢国墓 [Guoguo Tomb at Sanmenxia] (Wenwu chubanshe, 1999). 47 The Biography of Cui Yan 崔琰传, in the Book of Wei Kingdom 魏书, from Chen, Shou 陈寿, Sanguo Zhi 三国志 [Records of the Three Kingdoms] (280). 48 “自古及今，未有不亡之国，亦无不掘之墓也。丧乱以来，汉氏诸陵无不发掘，至乃烧取玉匣金缕，骸骨并尽，是焚如之刑，岂不重痛哉！祸由乎厚葬封树” from Cao, Pi 曹丕, Zhongzhi 终制 [Terminal system] (c. 187–226 CE). 49 See Zhenjiang Museum 镇江博物馆, “Zhenjiang Dongwu Xijin mu 镇江东吴西晋墓 [Xijin tombs of Dongwu from Zhenjiang],” Kaogu 考古 [Archaeology], no. 6 (1984): 528; Shanxisheng Kaogu Yanjiusuo 陕西省考古研究所 [Shanxi Provincial Institute of Archaeology], “Beizhou Yu Wenjianmu qingli fajue jianbao 北周宇文俭墓清理发掘简报 [Report of the excavation of Yu Wenjian’s tomb of Beizhou],” Kaogu yu Wenwu 考古与文物 [Archaeology and Cultural Relics], no. 3 (2005); Xianyangshi Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 咸阳市文物考古研究所 [Xianyan Archaeology Institute], “Xianyang shiliu guomu 咸阳十六国墓 [Sixteen Kingdom tombs from Xianyang],” Wenwu 文物 [Cultural Relics] 12 (2006): 53. 50 “堂下谓之庭” from Huang, Linggeng 黄灵庚, Chuci zhangju shuzheng 楚辞章句疏证 [Verses of Chu with annotations] 4 (Zhonghua shuju, 2007), 83. 51 “由也升堂矣，未入于室也” from Li, Xueqin 李学勤, Lunyu zhushu 论语注疏 [The analects of Confucius and annotations] (Taiwan Guiji Chuban Youxian Gongsi, 2001), 166. 52 “师冕见，及阶，子曰：‘阶也。’及席，子曰：‘席也。’皆坐，子告之曰：‘某在斯，某在斯。’师冕出。子张问曰：‘与师言之道与？’子曰：‘然。固相师之道也’” from ibid., 249. 53 Also see “The Utzon Lecture” by Xing Ruan in 2013. 54 “堂号:厅堂的名称,旧时多指某一家或某房的名号” from Zhongguo Shehui Kexue Yuyan Yanjiusuo Cidian Bianjishi 中国社会科学院语言研究所词典编辑室 [The Dictionary Department of the CASS Institute of Linguistics], Xiandai hanyu cidian 现代汉语词典 [Modern Chinese dictionary]. 55 The other name of ‘Chinese scholar tree’ is Styphnolobium japonicum. 56 “吾子孙必有为三公者” The Biography of Wang Dan from Tuo Tuo 脱脱 and A Lutu 阿鲁图, Song Shi 宋史 [History of Song]. 57 Both ‘Taiyuan’ and ‘Longxi’ are the names of places. 58 The primary resources for this part of the study are from fieldwork conducted in Dali, Yunnan in 2013. 59 “事死如生，事亡如存” (Treating the dead as alive, treating the deceased as if they were still there) from Dongfang, Shu 东方朔 and Yang, Liang 杨倞, Xunzi 荀子, Chapter 19 Lilun 礼论 [Discuss the Ritual]. 60 Gu, Yangui 谷衍奎, Hanzi yuanliu zidian 汉字源流字典 [Dictionary of the origin of Chinese characters], 114-5. 61 Xu, Shen 许慎, Shuowen jiezi 说文解字 [Explaining and analysing Chinese text and characters]. 62 For the origin of the Chinese character signifying ‘ancestor’, see Gu, Yangui 谷衍奎, Hanzi yuanliu zidian 汉字源流字典 [Dictionary of the origin of Chinese characters]. 63 The description of activities, rites and ceremonies performed at the Zhongyuan Festival is based on the author’s fieldwork at Nuodeng Village and an interview with Huang Jinding, an old vernacular scholar who devoted himself to studying the culture and history of his village; and Huang Jinding’s published book on this village: QiannianBaizucun–Nuodeng. 64 The following descriptions of rituals and activities are based on the author’s fieldwork in Dali State and refer to an interview with Li Guangwen. Also, see in Huang, Xuemei 黄雪梅, “Yunnan Dali Baizu Zuxian Chongbai zhong de Xiaodaohua jiaoyu 187jizhi 云南大理白族祖先崇拜中的孝道化育机制研究

[Research on the mechanism of filial duty in ancestor worship of the Bai in Dali Yunnan]” (PhD Thesis, Southwest University, 2008). 65 Fathy, Hassan, Architecture for the Poor, 15. 66 Timothy, Mitchell, Rule of Experts: Egypt, Techno-Politics, Modernity (Berkeley: Berkeley University of California Press, 2002). 67 The stories are presented in Architecture for the Poor and are used to illustrate the bad habits of poor Egyptian villagers, see Fathy, Hassan, Architecture for the Poor, 11. 68 Ibid., 12. 69 Ibid. 70 Ibid., 39. 71 Google Earth shows the distance from the tourist attractions to New Gourna as approximately five kilometres. Also see Steele’s analysis of the new location in Steele, James, ed., Hassan Fathy (London: Academy Editions; New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1988). 72 For the history of ownership and how the property of New Gourna was processed, see Timothy, Mitchell, Rule of Experts: Egypt, Techno-Politics, Modernity, and the detailed investigation effected by Nobbs-Thiessen see Nobbs-Thiessen, Max Benjamin, Contested Representations and the Building of Modern Egypt: The Architecture of Hassan Fathy (Department of History—Simon Fraser University, 2006). 73 Ibid. 74 Fathy’s initial plan of educating the Gournis in how to protect themselves through drama is from Steele, James and Fathy, Hassan, An Architecture for People: the Complete Works of Hassan Fathy (Watson-Guptill, 1997). 75 Ahmd, K. Galal and EL-Gizawy, L., “The Dilemma of Sustainability in the Development Projects of Rural Communities in Egypt—The Case of New Gourna,” (2010). 76 See Richards, James Maude et al., Hassan Fathy (Concept Media, 1985). Also see Rael, Ronald, Earth Architecture (Princeton Architectural Press, 2009). 77 See Steele, James, “The Translation of Tradition: A Comparative Dialectic,” Traditional Dwellings and Settlements Review (1996). 78 See how Fathy emphasised proportion for aesthetic reasons in Fathy, Hassan, City of the Future (University of Chicago Press, 2007). Also see the analyses in Pyla, Panayiota I., “Hassan Fathy Revisited,” Journal of Architectural Education 60, no. 3 (2007). 79 See Pyla, Panayiota, “The Many Lives of New Gourna: Alternative Histories of a Model Community and Their Current Significance,” The Journal of Architecture 14, no. 6 (2009). 80 For how Fathy organised the celebration in the theatre for promoting the project, see Steele, James and Fathy, Hassan, An Architecture for People. 81 See ibid. 82 Fathy, Hassan, “What is a City?” in Hassan Fathy, ed. James Steele (London: Academy Editions; New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1988), 124. 83 Steele, James, Hassan Fathy, 24. 84 Pyla, Panayiota I., “Hassan Fathy Revisited,” 29. 85 Fathy, Hassan, Architecture for the Poor, 35. 86 Ibid., 6. 87 Ibid., 7. 88 Timothy, Mitchell, Rule of Experts: Egypt, Techno-Politics, Modernity. 89 Ghānim, Fatḥī, Al-Jabal [The Mountain] (Cairo: Dar al-Hilal, 1965). 90 See Elad, Ami, “Ideology and Structure in Fatḥī Ghānim’s ‘Al-Jabal’,” Journal of Arabic Literature (1989):168-70. To test the reliability of Fatḥī Ghānim’s Al-Jabal, Ami Elad conducted surveys at both Old Gourna and New Gourna; he interviewed Hassan Fathy, Fatḥī Ghānim and villagers, and he concluded that what was narrated in Al-Jabal was based on fact. 91 Ghānim, Fatḥī, Al-Jabal [The Mountain]: 66-67. Citation is from Taragan, Hana, “Architecture in Fact and Fiction: The Case of the New Gourna Village in Upper Egypt,” Muqarnas 16 (1999): 176. 92 Ghānim, Fatḥī, Al-Jabal [The Mountain]: 32; Taragan, Hana, “Architecture in Fact and Fiction,”: 174. 93 Fathy, Hassan, Architecture for the Poor, 5. 94 For example, the domes of the Royal Society of Agriculture Farm Project collapsed and this accident is recorded in Steele, James and Fathy, Hassan, An Architecture for People, 24. 95 Also see Timothy, Mitchell, Rule of Experts: Egypt, Techno-Politics, Modernity, 193-95. 96 See Fathy, Hassan, Natural Energy and Vernacular Architecture. 97 Fathy, Hassan, Architecture for the Poor, 39. 188

98 Ibid., 185. 99 See ibid., 187-88. 100 Ibid., 149. 101 Ibid. 102 Ibid., 43. 103 Ibid., 45. 104 Fathy, Hassan, “What is a City?” 124. 105 Hosha is a type of enclosed area where fields are protected from the seasonal flood of the Nile. A hosha is surrounded by dikes and irrigated by artesian wells or pump-fed canals. New Gourna is located in a hosha. See the explanation offered by Fathy recorded in Fathy, Hassan, Architecture for the Poor, 172. 106Ibid., 162–63. 107Ibid., 176.

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5 Chapter 5: Cultural Tradition, Architectural Progress, the Cosmic Model and Animism

In this chapter, the study suggests that, beyond the culture of ancestor veneration as examined in Chapter 4, the culture of the cosmic model and animism was also pivotal in the cultural evolution of pre-modern Chinese architecture. In the discipline of architecture, the Chinese people’s connection with nature has given rise to two popular strands of studies. One strand concentrates on fengshui and the other emphasises Chinese gardens. The common view highlighted by many researchers in the field of fengshui is that the purpose of the principles and practices of fengshui was to establish a built environment putting man in harmony with nature. Representative researchers include Sang Hae Lee, Michael Y. Mak and S. Thomas Ng, Janet X Ge, Xiaoxin He and Jun Luo.1 The supporting evidence comes mainly from two perspectives. One explores the thoughtful consideration in pre-modern Chinese architecture for the natural environment, such as mountains and watercourses. The other re-evaluates the theories and practices of fengshui by comparing them with modern science and technology.

Drawing on the discipline of landscape architecture, the studies explore the meanings and significance of the Chinese garden as a type of landscape, especially the pre-modern Chinese gardens built by the literati (aka. scholar- officials). For example, Benjamin Wai-Bun Ip states that gardens could act as a haven of peace for people to escape the secular world. Christina Han suggests that, after the Song dynasty, nature was treated as an inviting place to wander about.2 Both R. Stewart Johnston and Maggie Keswick mention in their studies that Chinese gardens reflected a view of natural world, and acted as a vehicle for people to commune with nature.3

Based on these two strands of research, a systematic synthesis will provide a comprehensive interpretation of how the pre-modern Chinese attachment to the natural world influenced its architectural evolution. An examination of both the culture and the corresponding building practice in pre-modern China is revealing.

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It shows that, in pre-modern Chinese culture, the natural world representing the will of heaven had created ideal models to cover various situations and to guide pre-modern Chinese building activities. In this way, a building, as a profound interpretation of the natural world, was the materialised response to the will of heaven.

To present a holistic panorama, the first section of this chapter is organised into three scopes. Firstly, this section will elaborate on how architectural structure and the construction process echoed the cosmic model. This part is explored through both mainstream literature and folklores. Other than the broadly recorded legend of Nvwa, the Naxi’s genius as a grass-rooted version of the cosmic model also reflected the same idea. Secondly, how the pre-modern Chinese courtyard embodied the ideal relationship between man, heaven and earth will be analysed. Finally, this section reveals how a territory was zoned, how the zoning was imposed and how the town was built accordingly. Rather than the political segregation of authorities, the attributes of natural elements such as waterbodies and mountains were the essential guide of zoning and building a town. Dayan town is a good example of showing how settlement was connected to the natural environment in a community where animism prevailed. The seemingly primitive culture of animism played the role of laws to ensure that building activities would follow the zoning. The streets, buildings, nodes and construction materials of the town were also largely dictated by the local natural environment.

Some modern scholars use the pre-modern Chinese obsession with nature to criticise the modern tendency of gaining mastery over nature. For example, Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck highlight how the traditional Chinese view of an individual’s relation to nature, fundamental in Chinese culture, is different to that in modern culture. Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck think that the push for mastery over nature is comparatively strong in modern culture, where natural forces are overcome or even ignored when they conflict with human objectives. 4 Other scholars, such as Cho, Kwon, Genty, Jun, Yau, and Simmons and Schindler, also echo this view.5

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5.1 The Cosmic Model, Animism and the Built World

5.1.1 First Layer: Architecture and Cosmic Model—The Universe as a Great Shelter

5.1.1.1 In mainstream cosmology The cosmic myth of Nvwa has been recorded in many influential pre-modern Chinese classics, such as Huainanzi 淮南子 (A Collection of Scholarly Debates Held at the Court of Huainanzi), Shanhaijing 山海经 (The Classic of Mountains and Seas), Shiji 史记 (Records of the Grand Historian), Lie Zi 列子 (The Thoughts and Philosophy of Lei Zi), Lunheng 论衡 (Discourse Balanced, critical essays by Wang Chong), and others.6 Interestingly, in the cosmic myth, the inception of the universe was seen as the building of a house, and the world was depicted as a huge shelter. The reason why the universe was chaotic was that the four giant columns supporting the sky or heaven, were broken: Going back to more ancient times, the four pillars were broken; the nine provinces were in tatters. Heaven did not completely cover [the earth]; Earth did not hold up [Heaven] all the way around [its circumference]. Fires blazed out of control and could not be extinguished; water flooded in great expanses and would not recede. Ferocious animals ate innocent people; predatory birds snatched the elderly and the weak.7 After the catastrophe, a sage ruler, Nvwa, reset order in the universe in the similar fashion to repairing a house. First Nvwa re-erected four pillars, and then smelted five-coloured stones together to patch up the azure sky.8 Finally she arranged the land and built up drainage so that overflowing water could be evacuated. The azure sky was patched; the four pillars were set up; the surging water were drained; the province of Ji was tranquil; crafty vermin died off; blameless people [preserved their] lives.9

5.1.1.2 In folklore Beyond the classics written by influential scholars, a consistent cosmic model also appeared in folklore. This study draws attention to the myth recorded by the Naxi who live in southwestern China. Geographically, the Naxi people were isolated by

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mountains and lived far away from the central Sinitic area. The Naxi cosmic model was slightly different to the mainstream version, but its shelter-like form was no less emphasised.

Unlike the mainstream cosmic model which can be tracked through extant literature, folklore is more difficult to trace back, being an oral tradition passed on through the generations. The two resources used in this case study to investigate the Naxi cosmic model are the contents of local scriptures and Naxi pictographic characters (Figure 5-1).

A very important chapter in the Naxi’s scripture is Chongbantu 崇搬图 (The Naxi’s Genesis).10 Similar to Nvwa, Chongbantu likened the process of creating order in

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the universe to building a house. The difference is that the protagonists were nine brothers and seven sisters who are regarded as the ancestors of the Naxi.

The birth of these ancestors is also worth mentioning because it was the illustration of an animistic idea. In the discourse into the birth of the brothers and sisters who built the well-ordered universe, this study highlights two details. One is that the mother of these people was not a human being, she was a magic bird. This magic bird was born from the natural elements (a kallaite stone heated by sunshine) and blessed by the arts (beautiful music). This myth shows that man and other creatures were intertwined in the Naxi’s eyes. The other detail is that the spirits of nature were believed to have a sibling relationship with humans. This perspective can also be found in other chapters of Naxi scripture. The spirit of the sky and earth was also hatched from the eggs laid by the magic bird.

The later depiction of the brothers and sisters—the early sage rulers—suggested they had craftsman-like personalities. ‘神的九兄弟去开天，把天开成峥嵘倒挂的，神的七姊妹去辟地，把地辟成坎坷不平的’ 11 (After separating the initially overlapping sky from the earth, the nine brothers and seven sisters found that the sky was rugged and the land was bumpy). Therefore, they decided to take lessons from an old master who was a smart craftsman, an expert in construction.12 Having acquired considerable skills, the brothers and sisters made five giant pillars of precious materials and erected them respectively in each cardinal direction. ‘东边竖起白螺柱，南边竖起碧玉柱，西边竖起墨珠柱，北边竖起黄金柱，中央竖起一根

撑天大铁柱’13 (The white pillar made of shells was raised east, the green one of jade was in the south, the third one of back pearl was erected west, the golden pillar was in the north, and a thick iron pillar was placed in the centre).

After erecting the pillars, the brothers and sisters built the sky and land. The process was depicted as constructing the roof and paving the floor. ‘天不圆满，用绿松石来补，地不平坦，用黄金来铺，把天补得圆圆满满的，把地铺得平平坦坦的

’14 (After clearing and levelling the land, the brothers and sisters paved it with gold and used kallaite to construct the canopy. Once polished, the sky became a glossy surface and the land was flat). 194

5.1.1.3 In pictography The Naxi’s pictographic characters are of interest because they reflected the conception of the universe as a huge shelter. The character of ‘sky’ was a roof-like icon, and ‘land’ was a platform (Figure 5-2).15 Derived from the character of sky, a range of characters took on different meanings by combining the ‘canopy’ with other graphic symbols. For example (Figure 5-3), ‘sunny’ was the sky with a sun- like icon beneath; ‘spring’ was the canopy with three strokes representing the breeze; ‘summer’ had three drops of rainwater; ‘autumn’ was represented by crops that grew from the land and were ready for harvest; and three snowflakes under the canopy was ‘winter’. The characters of the sky and land combined to evoke Jørn Utzon’s sketch of traditional Chinese architecture (Figure 5-4). Coincidentally, the character ‘family’ appearing in Yang’s book is a combination of characters, which respectively represent ‘sky’, ‘man’, ‘woman’ and ‘land’ (Figure 5-5).16

Figure 5-2 The Naxi’s pictographic characters. Left, ‘sky’; right, ‘land’ (Li, Mexie Dictionary of Pictograph).

Figure 5-3 The Naxi’s pictographic characters. From left to right, ‘sunny’; ‘cloudy’; ‘spring’; ‘summer’; ‘autumn’; ‘winter’ (Li, Mexie Dictionary of Pictograph).

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Figure 5-5 A character representing family (Yang, Dongba Jiao Suo Fanyin De Shengzhi Wenhua 东巴教所反映的生殖崇拜文化 [A Culture of Reproductive Worship Reflected in Dongba Culture].)

5.1.1.4 Timber-frame construction and the cosmic model This section explores how the Chinese timber-frame construction of pre-modern Chinese architecture vividly echoed the cosmic model. For a single building, which was one wing of the Chinese courtyard, the basic character for its elevation can be broken down into three parts: a raised platform, columns and a pitched roof.17 Columns were the most important vertical load-bearing structures in the systems of tailiang (beams on top of columns), terraced beams and chuandou (columns connected by tie-beams). 18These two systems were widely applied for a long history. In both systems, the three elements—roof, columns and land (or platform)—played a crucial role. This logic of building structure echoes the cosmic models that was analysed in the last section.

The pre-modern Chinese timber-frame construction is not only a physical representation of the cosmic model, it also serves a practical purpose in people’s daily life. There are four merits to this construction: freedom in walling; flexibility to enlarge or reduce the size of a house; convenience in moving house and reusing

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building materials; and durability of the timber structure. These four advantages warrant a detailed analysis.

As walls were separated from the timber frame, there was considerable flexibility for partitioning. ‘This osseous construction permits complete freedom in walling and fenestration and, by the simple adjustment of the proportion between walls and opening, renders a house practical and comfortable in any climate’.19 In some warm regions, the façade onto the courtyard was even left open, without any partitioning structure (Figure 5-6) at all. Usually these facades onto the courtyard had a row of removable lattice doors to close off the house. When lattice doors were closed, air and sunlight could still filter through the grids. When the doors were all open, the façade seemed to vanish. On particular occasions such as weddings or funerals, the lattice doors could be removed, leaving the interior and the courtyard entirely integrated (Figure 5-7).

Figure 5-6 A façade left open (photo by the author)

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Figure 5-7 ambiguous boundaries and removable lattice doors (closed, open and removed) (photos by the author)

Columns were not only an important load-bearing structure, they also determined the size of a building. The space between two columns was a unit known as a jian 间 (bay). The sequence of constructing a single building will reveal how the unit was formed and how it determined the size of the building. Columns were joined into a transversal frame (Figure 5-8). Then, according to the planned size of the building, transversal frames would be assembled and erected (Figure 5-9). These frames would be connected by longitudinal beams (Figure 5-10). In this way, a skeleton of a building was assembled and bays were created between the columns.

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Figure 5-8 Frame (drawn by the author after Li, Xuemei and Smith, Kendra Schank)

Figure 5-9 A scene of frame erecting (the locals call it as “the ritual of erecting columns”) (sketched by the author)

Figure 5-10 Frames connected by crossbeams and bays expanded by adding more frames (drawn by the author after Li, Xuemei and Smith, Kendra Schank)

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Once the framework was complete (Figure 5-11), walls would be built separately (Figure 5-12). As the timber structural system was independent from the walls, the old saying prevalent in southwestern China was walls may collapse but the house will not.20 Local people were also proud of the mobility of their houses. As all the wooden structures were erected independently of each other and joined by mortise and tenon, they could easily be disassembled, transformed and reassembled into a new house.21 This made it easy to recycle building materials.

Figure 5-11 Examples of the assembled and erected timber frameworks (photos by the author)

Figure 5-12 The walls were built separately (photos by the author) 200

5.1.2 Second Layer: The Courtyard House

5.1.2.1 Fengshui: for a proper location in the great shelter Based on the cosmic model, humans were already being sheltered between the sky and earth. The courtyard house would function as more than just a shelter. Inside a courtyard house, the location and orientation of each room represented its hierarchical status. Family members were allocated specific rooms according to their roles. For example, the central hall was for the worship of ancestors. In Nuodeng, the bedroom for the older members of the family was behind the central hall. The east room was usually used by the eldest son and the west by younger sons.22

Similarly, the pre-modern Chinese house was used to define one’s proper position inside the huge shelter between heaven and earth. An individual’s birthday would determine the best orientation, location, layout and date for building. It was believed that if a person could be settled in accordance with the calculation, that person’s fate would be blessed. Thus, the proper position was not only a spatial concept, it also had a temporal dimension.

Still popular now, fengshui replicates how pre-modern Chinese architecture was used to settle people at a proper position between heaven and earth. Different versions of fengshui reflected how pre-modern Chinese architecture acted as a vehicle for directing people to a blessed location to settle.

Fengshui 风水 literally means ‘wind-water’ in English, and was used to harmonize architecture with the natural environment. It mainly involved observing and calculating the topography. It dealt with the relationship between humans and their natural surroundings, so many factors were taken into consideration. These include not only the specific time of birth, but also water, mountains, astrology, etc. The method of observation and calculation varied between the different schools. Using this information, the proper orientation, location, layout and time for building could be calculated to guide the building activities.

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Fengshui is a sophisticated system, while the Naxi was a simpler expression of a similar theme. Naxi’s geomancy could be represented in a conceptual diagram (Figure 5-13). This diagram looked like a compass showing the four cardinal directions (north 北, east 东, south 南, west 西) in the margins.

Figure 5-13 The Naxi’s geomancy compass (Li Guowen 李国文, Dongba Wenhua yu Naxi Zhexue 东巴文化与纳西哲学 [Dongba Culture and the Naxi Philosophy])

To grasp the detailed contents of this diagram, one needs to refer to the original source from which it was produced. This compass diagram was originally from the mythology recorded in Naxi scripture. It is said that a white bat flew high up to the heaven, on a pilgrimage for scriptures. After collecting 360 volumes of divinatory scriptures, it decided to return. On the way back, the scriptures were dropped by accident, and a giant golden frog swallowed them. The white bat was worried and asked four brothers23 for help. The brothers shot the frog in Milidajie Sea. The frog’s head was facing south and fire breathed out from its mouth. Its tail pointed north and urinated. The arrow used to shoot the frog was shot to the west and its arrowhead was made of iron. A wooden arrow holder was left in the east. Thus each direction was endowed with different attributes: the south with fire, the north with water, the west with iron and the east with wood.24 This explains the frog in the centre of the diagram, and the arrow pointing west. The attributes of the cardinal directions were recorded in an inner circle in accordance with the myth.

How does one associate the attributes of a person with the cardinal directions? The cardinal directions were allocated different zodiac animals. Male lives started in the south and rotated clockwise one grid each year. Female lives started in the 202

north and rotated anticlockwise.25 The second inner annulus contains twelve icons representing the zodiac animals (Figure 5-13). In this way, space and time were associated, as were humans and cardinal directions. According to the attributes of the cardinal directions and a person’s birth, a proper orientation and location for each person could be found in the great shelter of the universe. A courtyard house with a blessed location and orientation could be built accordingly.

Admittedly, it can be debated whether fengshui and its ramifications in pre-modern China are superstition or reality, but this study focuses on the ideology conveyed by this geomantic system. It could be said that pre-modern Chinese architecture was used to find a proper place for people to settle in the great shelter between heaven and earth.

5.1.2.2 The courtyard: heaven, earth and inhabitants The Pre-modern vernacular house was usually built as an enclosed courtyard surrounded by buildings. Xing Ruan noticed an evolution in domestic outlooks. In ancient houses, such as the Chinese courtyard house and the Roman domus, the view was above to the sky and there was no horizontal vista. In modern architecture, however, the level outlooks through windows with a horizontal vista have grown in importance. As a result, interior life has gradually faded from modern life. Sensitive artists, such as Edward Hopper, used their paintings to express the struggle between interior life and the attraction of life outdoors. Based on this logic, Ruan could explain “why the million-dollar view is bad for our body and our soul”.26

Based on Ruan’s finding, this case study emphasises how the pre-modern vertical vista conveyed different meanings to those of the modern horizontal vista. They reflected different understandings of the relation between ‘Man’ and ‘Nature’. In pre-modern Chinese courtyards, the sky could only be visible when residents made the effort to look upwards (Figure 5-14). By contrast, in modern apartments, especially in high-rise buildings, the sky can be seen by looking outwards (Figure 5-14). The enclosed courtyard placed the canopy above the inhabitants, whereas the modern home provides a level relationship to the sky. Standing at the window of a high-rise apartment, observers may feel they are in the sky when the horizon is lower than their viewing level. Conversely, the vertical outlook from an enclosed 203

courtyard was an architectural expression of humility and veneration before the solemnity and sacredness of the heavens.

Figure 5-14 Vistas and the relative position between man and sky. Left, vertical vista in pre- modern Chinese courtyard house; right, horizontal vista from a high-rise apartment (sketched by the author)

In vernacular houses, many details carried the same message. For example, all the areas exposed to the canopy were used for sending messages to the heavens. There were two surfaces directly facing the sky in the Chinese courtyard house: the ground of the courtyard and the roofs.

Tiles, cobbles and bricks were used to pave out beautiful patterns on the ground of their courtyards. These patterns were more than simple decorations. They were symbols with special meanings. Different symbols sent different messages. For example, the ‘bat’ pattern was popular (Figure 5-15), because it represented good luck and auspiciousness. The word ‘bat’ is pronounced the same as fu 福 (good luck and auspiciousness). This way of paving the ground was practical as well. It helped to adjust the microclimate of the courtyard house, allowing grass and moss to grow through the gaps between the cobbles or bricks (Figure 5-16), absorbing the rainwater and enabling evaporation.

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Figure 5-15 Bat patterns (photos by the author)

Figure 5-16 Paving with pebbles, tiles and bricks (photos by the author)

Various clay sculptures with different auspicious meanings were placed along the ridgelines of the roofs. Placing a clay cat in the centre of the ridge was a custom which was prevelant in southwestern China (Figure 5-17). There was a special term for this sculpture, wamao 瓦猫, (tile cat), which was specially made to be placed on the roof. In addition to the tile cat, there were other auspicious statues for use on the roof all around China. These objects were located above the visible zone, and were not simple decorations. They were specifically placed on the fifth elevation, a surface facing the sky. They symbolized the occupants’ prayer to heaven, materialising the dialogue between the mortal and the heaven.

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Figure 5-17 A ‘tile cat’ in the centre of the main ridge (photo by the author)

Having gained an insight into the Chinese courtyard house, this study finds that architecture went far beyond providing physical shelter in a material world. Indeed, architecture was used to guide the pre-modern Chinese in finding a blessed position to settle and a proper relationship with heaven and earth.

5.1.3 Third Layer: The Town and Water

The Naxi was a typical community who had a profound belief in nature and has kept a tradition of animism till today. This study describes the Naxi’s way of zoning their territory and planning their towns, and shows how profoundly building activities were related to the natural element of water. Water was respected as an important reference to guide building practices, not just manipulated to fit in with the designs of humans.

First, this chapter shows how waterbodies helped the Naxi acquaint themselves with the land. The Naxi’s pictographic character for ‘north’ was ‘ ’, and ‘south’ was ‘ ’. The two characters can be combined into ‘ ’, which means ‘water’ in the Naxi pictography. North was seen as upstream or ‘head of water’, and south was downstream or ‘tail of water’.27

The correlation between water and the cardinal points is key in grasping the Naxi’s understanding of the environment. It can be argued that the Naxi divided their

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territory into different zones based on their reading of the water body in each zone. To a large extent, the Naxi’s sense of a place relied on their relationship with water.

In Naxi territory, there were three levels of water bodies (Figure 5-18) depending on altitude: the first is the snow atop Yulong 玉龙 (Jade Dragon) Snow Mountain; the second is meltwater from the Yulong Snow Mountain Glacier that flows into Black Dragon Pond; on the third level are the streams flowing out from Black Dragon Pond and through the Naxi’s town. These three levels represented the different degrees of sacredness of the three areas covered by the three forms of water. The Yulong Snow Mountain zone was regarded as the holiest place and even believed to be part of paradise. The next most sacred zone was the Black Dragon Pond where the water came from Yulong Snow Mountain. The third zone was defined by the streams that flowed out of Black Dragon pond. This zone was much less sacred and the Naxi’s ancient town, Dayan, was built here. The water from these streams was available for local domestic use.28

Figure 5-18 The zones defined by water (drawn by the author based on the satellite image from Google earth)

In the first zone, the sacredness of Yulong Snow Mountain was represented in the Naxi’s belief by Sanduo. Sanduo 三多 was the patron saint of the Naxi. Every year, on the date of goat29 in February and August, the Naxi worshiped this important deity in the Sanduo Temple called beiyue miao 北岳庙 (Temple of Northern

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Mountain). The ‘Northern Mountain’ for the Naxi was Yulong Snow Mountain. The History of the Naxi’s Culture and The Unofficial History of Nanzhao recount how people related Yulong Snow Mountain with Sanduo. That history can be traced back to the Tang dynasty.30 In fact, Yulong Snow Mountain was regarded as the incarnation of the deity Saduo.31 The statue of Saduo wore a white helmet and a white cloak, resembling the snow on Yulong. Another possible reason for why the snow mountain was consecrated as a sacred place was that Yulong Snow Mountain was viewed as a world beyond, for the repose of souls. As part of paradise, yulong disanguo 玉龙第三国 (the third kingdom of Yulong) was especially known for accommodating young people who had died for love.32

In the second zone, Yu River 玉河 (jade river) flowed southward from Yulong Snow Mountain into Black Dragon Pond. Water in this pond was divine, as it was believed to be a treasure owned by shu, the spirit of nature. Even the frogs and fish in the pond were considered sacred.33 Southward out of Black Dragon Pond, there was a Suocui 锁翠 (the lock of jade) Bridge. Water gradually became more secular after Suocui Bridge, and divided into three main branches on the northern edge of the ancient Naxi town of Dayan. The water that flowed into Dayan town was essential to people’s everyday life.

In the region around Dayan town, there were many streams and creeks. They not only supplied enough water for the residents’ daily use, they also were respected as being the grids on which the town was built. The streets had all been built along the streams and creeks (Figure 5-19). For that reason, the streetscape provided special scenes in Dayan. Guo Moruo 郭沫若, the influential Chinese litterateur, archaeologist and historian, described the streets as ‘flying dragons’,34 naturally zigzagged with flowing streams and creeks.

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Figure 5-19 Streams, streets and bridges (above left, the photo of a map posted in Dayan town; photos by the author)

The watercourses were not only the grid used for building the town, but also places for gathering and for accessing one’s daily water supply. A type of well locally known as sanyanjing 三眼井 (three ponds well, Figure 5-20) was one of the special water features of Dayan. It could frequently be seen along creeks. The three ponds were of different heights so that water could flow into each in sequence. The first pond, was the highest, and located upstream. The water in this pond was used for drinking. The second pond was lower and its water was used for washing food. The third pond, being the lowest, was located downstream. Its water was used for washing clothes. People usually gathered and socialised around the wells.

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Figure 5-20 Three ponds well (photo by the author)

Water also played an important role in choosing the main building materials used in the town. Before the Qing dynasty, the streets were paved with rammed earth. When the streams overflowed, the streets would become muddy. In forty-seventh Qianlong year, around 1782 CE, residents and shop keepers were encouraged by the government to pave the streets with stone slabs.35 Through joint efforts of residents and shop keepers, Dayan City was finally all paved in stone.

The streams and creeks that passed through Dayan were very important in guiding the construction of the town centre, sifangjie 四方街 (square mall). It was a market built on a gentle slope. The locals regularly used the water of the passing streams and creeks to wash the mall and surrounding streets. A water gate was installed at the water inlet. The gate would be closed in the morning to allow sufficient water to accumulate by dusk. Then the gate would be opened and the water released to flow through the stone-paved market and streets. Because of the gentle slope, without the help of pumps or pipes, the flowing water would naturally wash away

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to other watercourses below. The tradition of washing the town has been a festive occasion since the Qing dynasty.36

As the town was built along streams and creeks, there were many bridges. In addition to the wells mentioned before, the main bridges formed another system of nodes for congregating. There were more than 80 stone bridges and about one thousand small timber bridges.37 Around the bridges, vendors set up convenience stalls for selling breakfast, tools, snacks and more. Interestingly, the bridges were given nicknames relating to the well-known stalls nearby, such as ‘Salty Duck Egg Bridge’, ‘Pea Meal Bridge’ and so on.38

In summary, water played a pivotal role in Naxi architecture and daily life. It served as an important reference for orientation purposes. It was also of prime consideration in a series of building activities, from using the watercourse as the axis for the streets to building the town on a slope so that flowing water could be used to wash the market, also selecting the right paving materials for the water to wash.

5.1.4 The View of Man and Nature

5.1.4.1 The Naxi’s gratitude and guilt towards nature The Naxi used a relationship between siblings to explain their intimate but sometimes troublesome relations with nature. A series of myths in Naxi scriptures appear, for example, in the stories of Gaolaiqiuwoshou 高来秋和山神龙王的斗争, Xiuqusuai 休曲苏埃, and Sutongsubei 苏通苏贝.

Xiuqusuai 休曲苏埃 explained how the ancestors of humans were born together with the spirit of nature, and narrated the conflicts between the brothers. The spirit of nature was called shu 署. It governed the rain, spring, forests, vegetation and animals. At first, humans got along well with it, but they gradually became greedy. They mastered the technique of felling trees, started to waste too much water and became skilful in hunting animals. Consequently, the spirit of nature was offended, and punished humans by producing heavy rains and floods to make them suffer. A god came to mediate in the conflict between humans and the spirit of nature, 211

finally putting an end to the catastrophes. Since then, people took heed of how powerful nature is, and started to pay great respect to the spirits of nature.39

In practice, the Naxi observed nine festivals, all of which were about paying their respects to nature. Worshiping shu 祭署 was an important three day ritual in February. It was conducted around a water source such as a spring pond. Sacrifices of not only food, but also medicine were offered to comfort shu.40 The prayer was remorseful in tone: 住在辽阔大地上的人类,为了一点吃食,不择手段,食人类不得食用的东西, 将毒鬼的红鹿杀掉,把仄鬼的红色野牛杀掉,把树上的蛇儿杀死,把石头上的青蛙杀死,食其肉;到山上去放狗打猎,到山等中去拿鱼;放火把大山烧掉, 把大树砂倒,把大湖的底戳通。人们都不知道可以不可以和谁争斗,偏偏去和署族结仇争斗。于是署族将毒鬼与仄鬼放到州门中问来了。41 We, as humans, were living on a massive stretch of land, but we collected food too greedily and rashly. Deer were owned by du spirit, red buffalos belonged to ze spirit, and there were snakes on trees and frogs on stones. We caught them as food. We hunted dogs, fished in the streams of mountains; Burned, cleared the trees and destroyed the lake banks. We did not know who we were fighting with. We were fighting and started a feud with shu. Consequently, the spirit of du and ze took sides against us.

Apart from the tradition of worshiping shu, the Naxi believed that after death, everyone needed to pay off the debt that he or she owed to nature: When the soul of the dead rises, the deceased needs to pay off the natural resources that they have used during their life, including the trees, water, valleys, fields and others. The debt also includes the damage caused during your life, such as the branches you picked, the field you ploughed, the firewood you cut, and the water you took from the valley. All of these need to be paid off one by one.42

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5.1.4.2 The wisdom: vacancy, return and stillness Pre-modern Chinese thinkers appreciated people who could comprehend the will of heaven by gaining wisdom from nature. Lao Zi emphasised that an individual should empty himself first so as not to be distracted by desires of the intellect. Then he would be ready to perceive nature with a whole heart, offering a void internal world to receive the will of heaven. ‘The (state of) vacancy should be brought to the utmost degree, and that of stillness guarded with unwearying vigour’.43

Apart from his emphasis on reaching the state of vacancy, Lao Zi also offered a different perspective on understanding progress. This view was inspired by the natural world, specifically, the growth of a tree. Lao Zi insisted on an ultimate return. He believed the fulfilment of life was to return to one’s essence or origin, just as leaves return to the root after luxuriant growth: All things alike go through their processes of activity, and (then) we see them return (to their original state). When things (in the vegetable world) have displayed their luxuriant growth, we see each of them return to its root. This returning to their root is what we call the state of stillness; and that stillness may be called a reporting that they have fulfilled their appointed end. The report of that fulfilment is the regular, unchanging rule. To know that unchanging rule is to be intelligent; not to know it leads to wild movements and evil issues.44

The pre-modern Chinese wisdom gained from a profound attachment to nature is very different to the modern ideology of progress. The state of vacancy, ultimate return and stillness all seem to be the opposite of what progress should be. However, this specific culture attached to nature may explain why pre-modern Chinese architecture evolved in such a way that it did not involve many physical changes but still carried rich cultural meanings.

5.1.5 Conclusion

The section investigated three approaches. First, it indicated how both the scholarly and popular versions of the cosmic model reflected an idea that the universe was like a huge shelter between the heaven and earth. The study 213

hypothesized that such a belief, must have bestowed profound spiritual meanings on architecture in pre-modern China.

The study found that the Chinese timber-frame construction echoed what was consistently emphasised in those cosmic myths. The cosmic model offered an ideal reference guide for construction. The same structural system could be passed on through the generations. This culture derived from the cosmic model contributed to the longevity of the timber-frame construction system.

Second, courtyard houses were used to direct people to properly located living quarters. Conventionally, in a house, each person would be accommodated in the room with the proper position according to his or her role in the family. This study suggests that the way of searching for a proper position for a house used the same logic. By applying fengshui, a house could find a proper position in the huge ‘shelter’ between heaven and earth corresponding to the attributes of the household.

Besides providing properly positioned living quarters, courtyard houses were also well suited to keeping the ideal relationship between man, heaven and earth. The vertical outlook guaranteed a visually respectful angle to the sky, while the courtyard and roofs provided media for dialoguing with the heavens.

The third approach relates to zoning and town planning. Based on the Naxi’s animistic ideas, natural elements were venerated as important reference guides to establish a sense of place, conceptually define zones, and guide building activities.

In conclusion, the cultural connections between man and nature explain the unique evolution of pre-modern Chinese architecture. This culture made people less attentive to physical innovation or the updating of buildings than on providing architecture to engage in meaningful pursuits.

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Notes to Chapter 5

1 See Lee, Sang Hae, Feng-shui: Its Context and Meaning (University Microfilms International, 1986); Mak, Michael Y. and Ng, S. Thomas, “Feng Shui: An Alternative Framework for Complexity in Design,” Architectural Engineering and Design Management 4, no. 1 (2008); He, Xiaoxin and Luo, Jun, “Fengshui and the Environment of Southeast China,” Worldviews: Global Religions, Culture, and Ecology 4, no. 3 (2000). 2 Wai-Bun Ip, Benjamin, “The Expression of Nature in Traditional Su Zhou Gardens,” The Journal of Garden History 6, no. 2 (1986); Han, Christina, “The Aesthetics of Wandering in the Chinese Literati Garden,” Studies in the History of Gardens & Designed Landscapes 32, no. 4 (2012). 3 Johnston, R. Stewart, Scholar Gardens of China (Cambridge University Press, 1991); Keswick, Maggie, Jencks, Charles and Hardie, Alison, The Chinese Garden (Harvard University Press, 2003). 4 Kluckhohn, Florence R. and Strodtbeck, Fred L., Variations in Value Orientations, Row, Peterson and Company (Evanston, IL: Row, Peterson, 1961). 5 Yau, Oliver H. M., “Chinese Cultural Values,” European Journal of marketing 22, no. 5 (1988); Cho, Bongjin et al., “Cultural Values Reflected in Theme and Execution,” Journal of Advertising 28, no. 4 (1999); Simmons, Lee C. and Schindler, Robert M., “Cultural Superstitions and the Price Endings Used in Chinese Advertising,” Journal of International Marketing 11, no. 2 (2003). 6 Liu, An, ed., Huainanzi 淮南子 [A collection of scholarly debates held at the court of Huainanzi] (ca. 139 BCE); Fang, Tao 方韬, Shanhaijing 山海经 [The Classic of mountains and seas] 13 (2009, first written between 475–221 BCE)); Sima, Qian 司马迁 and Zhang, Dake 张大可, Shi ji 史记 [Records of the grand historian]; Lie Zi 列子 and Jing, Zhong 景中, Lie Zi 列子 [The thoughts and philosophy of Lei Zi] (Zhonghua shuju, 2007 (first written in ca. the fifth century BCE)); Wang, Chong 王充, Lunheng 论衡 [Discourse balanced ] (ca. 86 CE). 7 Based on the translation offered by Major, see Major, John S. et al., “The Huainanzi: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China,” Chapter 6; also see Lewis, M. E., Flood Myths of Early China (State University of New York Press, 2012). 8 “Thereupon, Nüwa smelted together five-coloured stones in order to patch up the azure sky, and cut off the legs of the great turtle to set them up as the four pillars” Major, John S. et al., “The Huainanzi: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China,” Chapter 6; also see the translation in Lewis, M. E., Flood Myths of Early China. 9 Major, John S. et al., “The Huainanzi: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China,” Chapter 6; also see the translation in Lewis, M. E., Flood Myths of Early China. 10 The contents of Chongbantu are recorded by The Provincial Survey Team of Folk Literature in Lijiang, Chuangshiji: Naxi minjian shishi 创世纪:纳西族民间史诗 [Genesis: the Naxi epic] (Yunnan renmin chubanshe, 1987). 11 Ibid., 5. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid., 6. 14 Ibid. 15 The shape and meanings of the pictographic characters of the Naxi are drawn from Li, Lincan 李霖灿, Mexie xiangxing wenzi zidian 么些象形文字字典 [Mexie dictionary of pictograph] (Taipei: Wenshizhe chubanshe, 1972). Also see the analyses in Han, Likun, “A study of the Tianxiangzi in Naxi-Dongba characters” (Master thesis, East China Normal University, 2013). 16 Yang, Fuquan 杨福泉, Dongba jiao suo fanyin de shengzhi wenhua 东巴教所反映的生殖崇拜文化 [A culture of reproductive worship reflected in Dongba culture] (Yunnan renmin chubanshe, 1991). 17 See Liang, Ssu-ch’eng and Fairbank, Wilma, A Pictorial History of Chinese Architecture, 8-9. 18 Tailiang and Chuandou were two main structural systems of the timber frame in pre-modern China. See Liu, Duanzhen 刘敦祯, Zhongguo gudai jianzhushi 中国古代建筑史 [The history of pre- modern Chinese architecture] (Jianzhu gongye chubanshe, 1984). 19 Liang, Ssu-ch’eng and Fairbank, Wilma, A Pictorial History of Chinese Architecture, 8. 20 From author’s interview with Craftsman Yang Yushan. Also see Zhu, Liangwen 朱良文, Chuantong minju jiazhi yu chuancheng 传统民居价值与传承 [Value and inheritance of traditional houses] (Zhongguo jianzhu gongye chubenshe, 2011), 98. 215

21 From the author’s interview with Craftsman Yang Yushan and local house owners. 22 According to the author’s fieldwork. Also see Knapp, Ronald, Chinese Houses: The Architectural Heritage of a Nation (Tuttle publishing, 2013). 23 The four brothers are known as Jiudu, Jiuzi, Jiuzhu and Jiulong. 24 Yang, Fuquan 杨福泉, Dongba jiao suo fanyin de shengzhi wenhua 东巴教所反映的生殖崇拜文化 [A culture of reproductive worship reflected in Dongba culture]. 25 Jiang, Gaochen 蒋高宸, Lijiang: Meili de Naxi jiayuan 丽江: 美丽的纳西家园 [Lijiang: the beautiful hometown of the Naxi] (Zhongguo jianzhu gongye chubanshe, 1997), 26. 26 See Ruan, Xing, “Why the Million-dollar View is Bad for Our Body and Our Soul,” The Conversation, January 21, 2016. Also see Ruan, Xing, “Floating Life·Architecture: On Horizontality and Verticality,” The Architect, no. 6 (2014). 27 The pictographic characters used by the Naxi are found from Li, Lincan 李霖灿, Mexie xiangxing wenzi zidian 么些象形文字字典 [Mexie dictionary of pictograph] (Taipei: Wenshizhe chubanshe, 1972). The Naxi’s way of acquainting themselves with the environment through the waterbodies can also be found in other cultures. See Roxana Waterson, The Living House: An Anthropology of Architecture in South-East Asia (Tuttle publishing, 2013). 28 The concept of the three zones of in Naxi’s territory is based on Zhang, Tianxin 张天新, “Lijiang gucheng de richang shenghuo kongjian jiegou 丽江古城的日常生活空问结构解析 [Deconstruction of the living space of the old town in Lijiang],” The Journal of Pecking University 39, no. 4 (2004). 29 The Naxi’s dates were symbolized by different animals. 30 In Fourth Zhenyuan year 贞元四年 (779 CE), Yimouxun 异牟寻, the king of the Nanzhao Kingdom, referred to “holy mountains” in his kingdom and Yulong Snow Mountain was called the Northern Mountain, see Wang Song 王崧, Nanzhao yeshi 南诏野史 [The unofficial history of Nanzhao] (Kunming: Yunnan renmin chubanshe, 1957). When the chieftain of the Naxi rebuilt Sanduo Temple, he wrote a record of this, which was titled “重修北岳庙记” (A record of rebuilding Northern Mountain Temple). See He, Shaoying 和少英, Naxi wenhua shi 纳西族文化史 [The history of the Naxi culture] (Yunnan minzu chubanshe, 2001). 31 The couplet hung on the right in the Sanduo Temple at Baisha Village was “三多乃雪岳身影雪岳乃三多身容身常修德身宏昌” (Sanduo’s clothes are snowy white. He is righteous and morally perfect). 32 From the author’s fieldwork. Also see Mu Lichun 木丽春, Dongba wenhua jiemi 东巴文化揭秘: “ 玉龙三国” 巡源流 [Unravelling the secret of the Dongba culture: the origin of the Third Kingdom of Yulong] (Yunan meishu chubanshe, 1995). 33 From stories of old, usually told to attract children’s attention to the creatures around Black Dragon Pond. They were told especially not to hurt them, because they were like the fairies owned by shu, the spirits of nature. Also see Yang, Fuquan 杨福泉, “Lijiang Gucheng de diyushehui ji yongshui minsu 丽江古城的地域社会及用水民俗 [The regional society and Customs of Lijiang],” Yunan Daxue Xuebao 云南民族大学学报 [Journal of Yunnan University], no. 3 (2009), 9. 34 Guo Moruo’s poem was written to celebrate the accomplishment of rebuilding the Deyue Pavilion 得月阁 in Black Dragon Pond. The original poem is “龙潭倒影十三峰，潜龙在天、飞龙在地；玉水纵横半里许，墨玉为体、苍玉为神”. 35 An official announcement recorded in Wu Daxun’s report. Wu Daxun 吴大勋 was the mayor of Lijiang in the years in the Qing dynasty when Qianlong was emperor. Wu Daxun 吴大勋, Lijiang jieshi 丽江街市 [Streets and markets in Lijiang] (1774). 36 The original text that recorded the tradition of washing the town in the Qing dynasty is “进水之口筑一小闸，晨则下闸阻水不得入市，暮则启闸放水涤坊使净，俾入市者既免于泥泞，又免于尘埃。而水乃由市流行，当无所碍，各铺家所费无几，而便益无穷，城乡之民无不感惠”. ibid. 37 Data from Wang, Junhuai 王俊淮 and Wang, Tongling 王彤灵, Naxi yinxiang 纳西印象 [Naxi impressions], Cultural Anthropology Series (Yunnan jiaoyu chubanshe, 2008). 38 He, Shiyong 和仕勇, Lijiang Gucheng Zhi 丽江古城志 [The chorography of the Ancient Town of Lijiang] (Kunming: Yunnan minzu chubanshe, 2011), 277. 39 Zheng, Peiyuan 郑培源 and liu, Qiongyao 刘琼瑶, “Ren yu ziran de hejie 人与自然的和解 [The reconciliation between man and nature]: cong dongbajing kan xiuqusuai kan Naxi ren de ziranguan 从东巴经《休曲苏埃》看纳西人的自然观 [Exploring the Naxi’s view of nature via Xiuqusuai,” Green 陈正勇自然、神性与美 China, no. 18 (2006); Chen, Zhengyong 216, “Ziran, shenxing yu mei [Nature,

divinity and beauty]: Xiandai yujing zhong de Naxi zu shenmeijingshen yanjiu 现代语境中的纳西族审美精神研究 [A study of Naxi aesthetics in a modern context]” (PhD Thesis, Shanghai Normal University, Humanities and Communication College, 2008). 40 The record of the custom of worshiping shu is collected from Lijiang Museum and the author’s fieldwork. 41 He, Shicheng 和士成, Jishu 祭署 [Worshiping shu]: Kaitan jing 开坛经 [The introductory prayers] (Kunming: Yunnan renmin chubanshe, 1999-2000). 42“死者上去时,偿还曾抚育他的树木、流水、山谷、田坝等的欠债…你曾去放牧绵羊的牧场上,你曾骑着马跑的地方,用脚踩过的地方,用手折过青枝的地方,用锄挖过土块的地方,扛着利斧砍过柴的地方, 用木桶提过水的山谷里,这些地方你都要一一偿还木头和流水的欠债” He, Yuncai 和云彩, He, Fayun 和发源 and He, Limin 和力民, Naxi Dongba guji yizhu Quanji 纳西东巴古籍译注全集 [Translation and annotations of the complete edition of the Naxi Dongba classics] (Yunnan renmin chubanshe, 2000). Translated into English by the author. 43 The English translation is from Legge, James, Tao Te Ching (Legge) (Start Publishing LLC, 2013), 16. The original text is “致虚极，守静笃。万物并作，吾以观复” from Lao Zi, Tao Te Ching 道德经 (ca. 770–476 BCE), Chapter 16. 44 The English translation is from Legge, James, Tao Te Ching (Legge), 16. The original text is “夫物芸芸，各复归其根。夫物芸芸，各复归其根。归根曰静，是曰复命。复命曰常，知常曰明。不知常，妄作，凶。知常容，容乃公” from Lao Zi, Tao Te Ching.

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6 Chapter 6: Conclusion

This thesis provides new perspectives on the definition of ‘progress’ in architecture in relation to the concept of ‘sustainability’. It will also add a dimension to the concept of sustainable architecture. Reviewing the history of the idea of progress through case studies in both pre-modern and modern architecture reveals that ‘progress’ is not static but is instead continually evolving based on the cultural dynamics of each historical period. This thesis challenges the preoccupation with formal invention and suggests alternative ways of understanding cultural progress that are better suited to addressing global sustainability objectives.

Through historical literature where the term progress was used and the written discussions on progress, the concept of progress is examined in its historical evolution. Throughout history, architectural interpretations of ‘progress’ have presented us with many paradoxes. Identifying diverse definitions of ‘progress’ allows us to replace the more resource-intensive models of architectural progress with more sustainable and ecologically sensitive models. Although pre-modern architecture in China evolved slowly in terms of physical forms, this thesis demonstrates how physical patterns of development and architectural expression can continually be rejuvenated by means of dynamic and continuously renewed intangible cultural uses.

Moreover, apart from the conventionally emphasised energy saving and environment-friendly, the original meaning of the word ‘sustainability’ should draw more attention in the modern concept of sustainability in architecture. That is a notion emphasising enduring and maintaining. A capacity to maintain the vitality of an unchanged material form should also be regarded as a type of sustainability in architecture. This is a capacity to resist the quick update of a physical fashion in built forms.

There are four sections in this chapter. The first three sections reiterate the three key areas of inquiry and findings of this thesis. Each of these sections engaged with the question of architectural evolution in pre-modern China and addressed how architecture can evolve by renewing intangible aspects of culture instead of

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physical changes in built forms. Specifically, there are three intangible aspects of culture highlighted by the investigation in this thesis. They include: first, renewed cultural meanings conveyed by architecture (Chapter 2); second, interpersonal connection strengthened by collective craft culture (Chapter 3); third, the veneration of nature and the past cemented by their sanctity in architecture (Chapter 4 and 5). These three key points are highlighted not only because they are enduring sources of cultural richness within the Chinese vernacular architectural cases but also because they may add a salutary dimension to the pursuit of sustainability. Without a resources-consuming attribute, enriched cultural meanings, improved social cohesion, cultural continuity and respect to nature are consistent with the goals of sustainability. All of these are what architecture could bring to the society. Therefore, this thesis suggests that the concept of progress in architecture can be deepened by these intangible aspects of culture. The corresponding studies in modern architecture reveal the barrier to these key factors in modern practices through narrow conceptions of progress. The fourth section of this chapter synthesizes the conclusions and recommends specific future studies that can be developed by using this research as an intellectual foundation. Essentially, this research examined key concepts of progress and sustainability in their historical evolution. Then, through juxtaposing selected case studies this research examines the meaning and application of these concepts. The two sets of investigation projects do not imply that pre-modern vernacular architecture is more sustainable. The thesis does not examine whether vernacular architecture or modern architecture is more or less sustainable. Instead, the thesis is about how we integrate knowledge from various ‘traditions’ and obtain a careful reading of the vernacular. This may deepen our approaches to sustainable architecture and inspire us to inquire about certain aspects of the concept of progress in architecture.

This thesis is a case study based investigation and it level of generalisation should be considered when interpreting its study findings and arguments. The validity of conclusions in other contexts may need further investigation to prove.

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6.1 Reflection on Methodology

This thesis is motivated by a deep concern for the future of modern architecture. Despite the joint pursuit of ‘sustainability’ and ‘progress’, these two goals may conflict in practice, especially when changes in materials and visual improvements are seen as a token of architectural evolution. On one hand, updated architectural fashion boosts consumption and contributes to economic growth; on the other hand, this approach to architecture requires considerable resources and energy, thus generating construction waste and negatively affecting the pursuit of sustainability.

How can we mediate between ‘sustainability’ and ‘progress’ in architecture? Through an initial literature review, this author found that there are alternative approaches to progress in vernacular architecture. That is, the material nature of some vernacular architecture is mostly stable not only because of less rapid advances in technology but also due to the profound attachment of traditional communities to their ancestors, nature, spirits, traditional crafts and certain ways of life. Through reading substantial historical literature, this author realised that some pre-modern vernacular architecture contains deep-rooted cultural meaning. Dwelling in these seemingly thrifty, humble and changeless houses, inhabitants enjoyed their culture-rich homes and appreciated their good life.

To gain a better understanding of the above finding, this author undertook case studies. In addition to substantial studies based on historical literature, the author conducted fieldwork, especially in villages in southwestern China. This fieldwork included on-site observations of the construction of vernacular houses, participation in the day-to-day life of local communities, and interviews with local residents, traditional craftsmen and local scholars. These case studies further demonstrated the aforementioned finding, and based on these studies, the four vernacular approaches pertinent to this study are summarised. 1) The studied vernacular architecture provides an understating of progress. The evolution of architecture did not necessarily rely on physical changes in architectural form, and the updated nonmaterial culture—including conventions, rituals, language, and new applications—could also contribute to renewing architecture. 2) The studied 220

vernacular architecture maintained a tradition of collective craft culture, which contributed to the cohesion of local communities. The particular ethical and moral building process has progressive significance and should not be judged as a less efficient construction approach. 3) Based on the culture of ancestor worship, the studied vernacular architecture served as an agent for maintaining the connection between the inhabitants and their ancestors and allowed the inhabitants to use the past to imagine the future. Looking back to the past may not always represent moving backwards or regression, and the past is not always antagonistic to progress. 4) Based on the culture of animism, the studied vernacular architecture cemented a profound attachment to nature, which seems consistent with sustainability objectives. One may then ask: will these vernacular approaches mediate between ‘sustainability’ and ‘progress’ in architecture? I suggest yes.

The insights from vernacular architecture inspire rethinking the relationship between progress, culture and sustainability. Progress in architecture has multiple dimensions, both material and nonmaterial. First, at a time when low-carbon living and sustainability are the primary concerns for the future of our planet, the nonmaterial dimensions of progress should be emphasised in architecture. Second, it is necessary to be more cautious about a pursuit for formal invention. Third, different approaches, such as those learned from vernacular architecture, can be tried to realise architectural renewal. In this way, the amount of consumed resources and energy will likely be reduced while pursuing progress. Hence, the amount of construction waste would also decrease.

To summarize, this research used multiple methods including interpretive study, case studies, on-site observations, interviews, and analyses of drawings and diagrams. Based on the findings from vernacular architecture, this thesis further investigated case studies of modern architecture and drew attention to the contradiction between progress and sustainability in modern practice.

Le Corbusier, Li Xiaodong and Hassan Fathy are great architects who have had a long-lasting influence. They have noted the modern value of vernacular architecture, devoting effort and passion to learning from the vernacular. The architectural works designed by these great architects are highly admired by 221

people who have affection for nature and tradition. The design process of these architectural works reflected a conundrum—that is, the enthusiasm of these architects for vernacular architecture and the past and their obligation to modernist ideals and progress. Seeking breakthrough, novelty, tangible improvements and formal innovation may involve a long formation process and complex lifecycle that consumed considerable resources and energy. Through analysing these great architectural works, this thesis presented a contradiction deep-seated in the values of modern architecture.

Juxtaposing modern cases with vernacular cases is not a contrast-oriented comparison (please also see Appendix A: A Matrix of Investigated Architectural Examples). This juxtaposition should not be interpreted as a comparison aiming to show whether vernacular architecture or modern architecture is more sustainable. Instead, these two sets of case studies have their own objectives and conclusions. The conclusion of the first set of case studies focusing on vernacular architecture is the four vernacular principles presented above. The conclusion of the second set of case studies focusing on modern architecture is intended to reveal a deep- seated contradiction between progress and sustainability. The conclusion from both sets of case studies is that, regarding how to mediate the contradiction between progress and sustainability in modern architecture, we can learn a salutary lesson from vernacular architecture. This lesson inspires us to rethink the relationships among progress, culture and sustainability, to transfer the type of architectural progress that relied on only formal innovation and material improvements to a type that can also be achieved through the renewal of nonmaterial culture. Especially in regions or countries that are experiencing fast urbanisation and modernisation, such as today’s China, the dimension of nonmaterial culture should be better emphasised in the concept of architectural progress.

6.2 The Contribution of Intangible Culture to Our Understanding of the Sustainable Value of Progress

First, this study demonstrates that stable built forms and dynamic cultural evolution are not necessarily mutually exclusive through detailed analysis of an element of 222

Chinese vernacular architecture known as a zhaobi. Many authors, including Liang Sicheng, Pan Guxi, Fletcher Banister and Lao Lu reflected that pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture enjoyed longevity in terms of its architectural form. 1 The oldest Chinese courtyard (siheyuan) found today was built in the Western Zhou dynasty. 2 The time is identified based on carbon-14 dating and further based on an examination of the oracle bones and the language written on these bones. The early siheyuan did not show much difference from more contemporarily built ones. The zhaobi as a piece of freestanding wall at the entrance of the Chinese courtyard also appeared in this oldest siheyuan in fengchu. Notably, the form of the ancient zhaobi was similar to others that were only recently built (See 2.1 in Chapter 2). The investigation of the historical evolution of the zhaobi is undertaken through the author’s fieldwork and on primary historical sources (See 2.1 in Chapter 2), such as literary works and visual art from imperial times, this study finds that the meaning of the zhaobi has evolved dynamically.

This study interpreted the evolution of the zhaobi in three phases. In the first phase, the zhaobi was used as an imperial symbol and associated with the power of the imperial family. Throughout the second phase, the zhaobi was no longer used exclusively by the imperial family, as scholar-officials’ involvement enriched the artistic value of this element. Concurrently, a diverse folklore was developed in association with the zhaobi, and more rich meanings emerged. In the third phase, an ethnic group in southwestern China inherited the convention of building this element and has used it until today as a showcase of family tradition. Despite these considerable transformations, one can still easily identify this specific element in three thousand year-old houses. Although the designations used to name this element have been updated, there has been no demand to change its physical form.

In the long history of the zhaobi, its stable material nature and the abundant intangible cultural heritage attached to it are notable. These features suggest that the progress of architecture did not necessarily rely on the physical innovation of

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the architectural form but was instead represented by the evolution of the intangible culture attached to the architecture.

Juxtaposed with the evolution of the architectural element in pre-modern vernacular architecture, the second part of Chapter 2 investigated how Le Corbusier’s promenade architecturale evolved. Based on two of Corbusier’s books, Le Voyage d’Orient and La Ville Radieuse, the investigation traced the meaning initially attached to Corbusier’s promenade architecturale; in addition, it reviewed the part of Corbusier’s architectural designs that reflected his praxis of promenade architecturale from 1912 to 1929, before Villa Savoye. This investigation finds that different architectural forms were experimented with before the ramp and roof garden in Villa Savoye were designed, such as the raised garden and hidden entrance in Villa Jeanneret-Perret; the enclosed terrace, long staircase and semi- open corridor in Maison Citrohan; and the curved ramp, lofty hall and complex roof garden in Villa La Roche-Jeanneret, among others (See 2.2 in Chapter 2).

According to Corbusier, promenade architecturale evolved from Arabian architecture. Further investigation of Corbusier’s interpretation of Arabian architecture and his record of these buildings during his travel has been undertaken in this study. Corbusier’s interpretation of Arabian enclosed courtyards considerably contributed to the promenade architecturale. Whether his impression captured the profound cultural meaning contained by these courtyards did not garner much attention. In practice, Corbusier tried many different architectural forms in attempting to implement his notion of promenade architecturale. Over a decade of praxis, the series of formal innovations were designed to encourage movement and provide visual stimulation to offer visitors a new spatial experience. The final success in Villa Savoye reflected a more careful reading of the vernacular architecture and this works achieved success.

In contrast with the intended meaning and architectural praxis derived from Corbusier’s promenade architecturale, Arabian enclosed courtyards contained evolving cultural meanings and accommodated myriad cultures over millennia, but the physical architectural form of these courtyards was enduring.

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After revealing the different evolutionary patterns between the zhaobi and Corbusier’s promenade architecturale, this research calls for a deeper understanding of the special evolution of pre-modern vernacular architecture, such as in the case of the zhaobi which was both physically stable and culturally dynamic. The stability of the physical form may not be a symptom of a lack of progress. On the contrary, it can also be a type of progress in architecture, as the embedded cultural meaning continuously renewed. Based on this conclusion, the study further asks how and why the evolution of pre-modern vernacular architecture was formed and sustained in the case of pre-modern China. Knowing other ways of achieving progress in architecture can both broaden our understanding regarding architectural progress and deepen our understanding of vernacular architecture.

6.3 Collectiveness

Second, Chapter 3 investigates how the stable material nature of China’s pre- modern vernacular architecture was sustained and how a supportive context for intangible cultural development and progress was generated in the production process of vernacular buildings. The research of Section 3.1 in Chapter 3 highlights the importance of collectiveness in this process.

This investigation has traced pre-modern building codes in China and writings of influential intellectuals in Chinese history about building and craftsmen. This large body of literature shows that there was an ethical and moral context of building in pre-modern China that emphasised the potentially detrimental aspects of material novelty. According to Fundamental Norm by Liu An, novelty may encourage or complement an extravagant way of life and can facilitate risk through the unforeseen consequences of material innovation. In contrast, this code valued conservative but meaningful craftwork.3 Wufu of Guan Zi clarifies that a morally sound craftsman would neither incautiously pursue innovation for novelty nor utilise his craft to seduce people, particularly decision makers such as a monarch or the emperor, for if an emperor were to become addicted to the pursuit of new objects, such as buildings, he could bring disaster to the nation.4 Chao ye qianzai noted that skilful craftsmen may bring themselves bad luck as a result of their incautious 225

inventions.5 From different angles, various literary works have implied this same motif: material novelty can be seductive. For an individual or a nation, the gratuitous pursuit of new objects had been understood to be morally bankrupt and to possibly lead to disaster.

This investigation is furthered by fieldwork observation and analyses of pertinent literature, including recorded folklores, scriptures and guides for craftsmen. The study suggested that the rituals conducted during the process of collective design and construction were an effective mechanism to balance the power of various participants. Supported by traditional rituals and folklore, collective design and construction prevented individual domination of the design and construction process. For example, on the one hand, craftsmen could bless house owners by worshiping the deity of wood, and house owners could express their gratitude by sending food to craftsmen in the ritual of powufang. On the other hand, craftsmen could curse the house if the owner made them unhappy. In return, the owner could conduct another ritual by asking craftsmen to cross the trestle and discover who had cursed the building. 6 Finally, intangible cultural heritage was linked with architecture by means of the collective engagement of the entire community. Based on intensive engagement with local communities architecture could be endowed with cultural meanings that were intelligible to all participants.7

Although the manner in which contemporary architects designed architectural works was much more individualised, some architects, such as Li Xiaodong practised outside the mainstream and engaged in collective design or construction. His way of working, including architectural designs and construction, were investigated in Sections 3.2 in Chapter 3. This investigation is based on the memories of the architects and their collaborators, biographies, analyses of designs and on-site observation of designed buildings.

Through fieldwork, comments from various media and relevant literature on Li Xiaodong’s Yuhu Primary School, the study (3.2 in Chapter 3) revealed that tangible innovation was still highly valued in this prestigious project. In addition, the study unravels the difficulty a modern architect experienced in realising collectiveness. The study suggests that the collective design and construction 226

could have more effective potency in this project. There were some issues that might have been better addressed if local architectural form had been more considered in the new design. Although these creative forms won praise from professional peers, some were unable to address certain problems as well as the local vernacular forms.

In conclusion, the emphasis on material innovation fosters a culture of individuality within architecture. Within such a context, collective craft culture is difficult to be broadly accepted. Although various people may be involved, in reality the collaboration is often used to realise an individual’s vision rather than to support resourcefulness or imbue architectural works with cultural meanings.

6.4 Looking to the Past for a Renewed Understanding of Progress and Sustainability

Third, with regard to the cultural tradition behind the distinctive evolutionary pattern of pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture, this research identifies the influence of two pre-modern cultural forces, ancestor worship and animism. Section 4.1 and 5.1 reflect that, a deep concern and respect for the past and tradition, made the pursuit of novelty morally contentious in the cases of pre- modern Chinese vernacular architecture. Instead, traditional cultural progress was based on a better cognition of history and a reverence for nature as a source of authentic wisdom. These two sources of renewal and progress were closely related. Together, they promoted the evolution of a rich tangible and intangible culture associated with stable pre-modern architectural forms. These influences were investigated in Chapters 4 and 5.

6.4.1 Ancestor Worship or Veneration: Between the Past and the Future

The investigation of Section 4.1 in Chapter 4 found that the etymology of the

Chinese characters for ‘ancestor’ 祖宗 implied profound conceptual associations with architecture, origin and rituals. The study suggested that the complex relationship between the culture of ancestor worship and the evolution of pre- modern Chinese vernacular architecture can be interpreted from two separate 227

dimensional perspectives. One is ‘ancestor’ and ‘building’, which relates to public life; the other is ‘ancestor’ and ‘hall’, which relates to domestic life. These two realms have been investigated through two types of architectural artworks that were built to worship ancestors. The first dimension argues that in the studied cases, ambitions of public life were largely showcased in artworks that were sacrificed to ancestors, rather than through real buildings. For example, in the Han dynasty, ceramic architectural models known as mingqi were buried in ancestors’ tombs. This custom of burying mingqi in tombs was quite popular at that time, and there were copious archaeological excavations revealing this ceramic architectural model. Drawing on these resources, this thesis proposed that the architectural mingqi reflected how the culture of ancestor worship influenced the architectural evolution in the studied Chinese cases.

The study found that there were two elements that were commonly used in the large numbers of excavated architectural mingqi: one is fengniao and the other is chongyan wudian (double hip-roofs). Since both symbolise political power in pre- modern China (Section 4.1 in Chapter 4), families from middle or lower classes would not use these elements in their real buildings. However, it was not uncommon that they used these two elements in the mingqi that was buried in their ancestors’ tombs. This may signify their desire for political power through these artworks.

An important turning point in history relates to the Han dynasty. People were granted official titles through a system of recommendation and examination.8 Even without blood ties to the emperor, ordinary people were still able to accomplish their political ambitions. This greatly motivated people to pursue their political dreams. The architectural artworks sacrificed to ancestors, with elements that symbolised political power, reflected people’s ambitions to advance their political careers in the Han dynasty.

The thesis suggests that in pre-modern China people may express their ambitions of political power through miniature architectural artworks for ancestors, instead of using real buildings. Referring to their ancestors in this way may avoid, or at least minimise, dramatic changes in real architectural buildings, thereby sustaining the 228

form of pre-modern Chinese architecture and expressing significant cultural meanings at the same time.

Similarly, in the dimension of domestic life, artworks made for ancestors and rituals for worshiping ancestors were an important conduit through which people might express their wishes. Domestic altars used for worshiping ancestors were built as architectural models. This model architecture acted as a conduit for day-to-day dialogues between descendants and their ancestors. In particular, all the important events would be reported to ancestors. Confessions, achievements and wishes were popular topics that people murmured about during daily ancestor worship.

Wishes, imagination and achievements, such as gaining more wealth and/or getting a promotion, could be sent to ancestors. The ancestors would then determine whether the descendants were good enough to deserve what they hoped for. Preparations to the ancestors often included two main parts: the first involved improving realisation, morality and cognition to a level that would satisfy ancestors, whilst the second involved developing a deep concern for history, as this involved a dialogue with ancestors who represented the past.

The investigation of Section 4.1 in Chapter 4 shows that in the pre-modern Chinese cases, the past was used to imagine the future. When a modern architect attempted to design with the inspiration from the past, there would be many challenges. The case of Section 4.2 reveals the challenges Hassan Fathy faced when he designed New Gourna for villagers of Old Gourna. An obligation to be innovative and forward-looking consciously and unconsciously affected Fathy’s reading of the past of Old Gourna and their vernacular architecture. In this process, misunderstanding generated between Fathy and villagers, especially in their different interpretation of the past and the future. This section suggests that dispite the difficult progress, Fathy’s initial goal was achieved in the end.

Hassan Fathy and his architectural works were discussed in 4.2 of Chapter 4. Among numerous modernist, Hassan Fathy was a thoughtful architect who practiced a deep appreciation of the past using traditional materials and forms. His project reflected his conundrum between his deep appreciation of the past and the

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obligation of being progress and forward-looking. Section 4.2 of Chapter 4 investigated Fathy’s famous New Gourna project, upon which the work Architecture for the Poor was based, and analysed how the architect viewed the ‘past’ and ‘future’. The old village’s past was viewed as a less-advanced version of the present and a target for criticism from the very beginning of the project. For Fathy, the history of Old Gourna, the village, remained something to be negated by applying the more advanced thinking of the present. Beginning with condemnations, Fathy proposed his design for an improved future, but it was inevitably disconnected from the villagers’ past so that the design felt unintelligible and impractical to them.

To design the Gournis’ future, Fathy paid much attention to what was lacking or did not exist. He wanted to introduce artistic life to the village but neglected some pragmatic needs of the villagers. He emphasised national identity and was eager to search for an architectural symbol to represent it but ignored the Gournis’ understanding of the meaning of architecture. He made efforts to experiment with mud bricks and to explore such techniques, but the materials used by the locals and the ways they built were not fully considered. As a Consequence, the villagers of Old Gourna stood against the project of New Gourna and refused to move in. Fathy demonstrated that this project resulted in a failure, but this investigation underscores the final success of Fathy. His initial goal of evoking local community’s connection with the past and belief in tradition has been realised.

6.4.2 Animism and the Cosmic Model: Nature as the Ideal Model for Sheltering

In addition to the aforementioned culture of ancestor worship, the thesis also proposes that the profound affinity with nature was another reason that illustrates why the largely stable material nature of pre-modern vernacular architecture could be formed and sustained in the China’s cases. The study of Section 5.1 in Chapter 5 employed three dimensions to analyse why a profound affinity with nature sustained the stable physical form of pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture and simultaneously endowed it with rich intangible cultural meaning. Two sets of investigations that analyse writing and actual architectural sites, including buildings

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and settlement patterns, respectively, are integrated to interpret this affiliation with nature and its influence in architecture.

The first dimension treats the architecture and cosmic model in 5.1.1. Chinese cosmology, including both the orthodox and grassroots versions based on Nvwa and Congbantu, conveyed a consistent motif that the origin of the universe was a huge shelter of perfect design and divine structures.9 The study suggested that the manner of building and the timber-frame construction of typical pre-modern Chinese architecture represented the epitome of the conceptual cosmic model. Rather than inventing new forms to build or invent artificial landscapes people were more concerned about how to receive the will of heaven by interpreting the original form of the natural world. Based on this cosmic model—the universe as a shelter— humans were believed to be already sheltered between the sky/heaven and earth. Within the context of such concepts, beyond providing a shelter, these pre-modern vernacular architectures acted as a compass orienting individuals to find the right positions in which to settle between the canopy of sky and platform of the earth. According to a person’s attributes, including the specific time and cosmological characteristics of their birth, the right location, orientation, architectural layout, and time to begin building, would be calculated.

The second dimension addresses the courtyard and relationships between sky/heaven, man and earth. Regarding why the form of the pre-modern Chinese courtyard (aka. Siheyuan) could enjoy longevity of more than two thousand years, Section 5.1.2 proposed a possible reason, i.e., the profound relationship between man, on the one hand, and sky/heaven and earth, on the other. The pre-modern Chinese courtyard provided a vertical—as opposed to a horizontal—vista.10 Along the vertical vista, the solemn sky/heaven could always be present within this form of architecture. The surfaces of the building that faced the sky, including its roofs and the grounds of the courtyard, were typically used as the place for arranging seemingly useless objects and ornaments, such as sculptures on the roof and special patterns paved on the ground. Most of these were actually meaningful as part of a dialogue between the inhabitants and sky/heaven and the earth.

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The third dimension addresses territory and settlement patterns. The study of 5.1.3 investigated Dayan town and highlighted the important relationship of water to vernacular architecture in the town. The locals used the attributes of the local natural water systems to interpret their territory and divided zones into different degrees of sacredness. Furthermore, Dayan was built based on the pattern of natural streams and creeks. Beyond visual effects, waterscape was domesticated for daily uses. Both the comprehension of the order of nature and the capability of following it in practice were regarded as authentic sources of wisdom.

In conclusion, the natural environment and natural elements were venerated as important references for building activity in the studied cases in Section 5.1. Reflecting upon the natural environment in architecture was more important than pursuing material novelty.

6.5 Synthesis, Contribution and Future Study

This thesis has developed a broader understanding of architectural ‘progress’ in relation to the context of ‘sustainability’. In so doing, it has revealed a conundrum— that is, the enthusiasm of modern architects for vernacular architecture and the past and their obligation to embrace modernist ideals and progress.

The dynamic definitions of architectural progress and innovation attached to pre- modern vernacular architecture highlight the stable material nature of such architecture. They also inspire ways of maintaining the relevance and importance of heritage architecture without altering traditional physical forms. For example, in pre-modern China, material changes and novelty were regarded as immoral, whereas the deepening realisation and cognition that came through intangible cultural development were respected as a source of authentic wisdom and considered much more valuable. Envisaging various environmental and cultural challenges, modern China can learn a constructive lesson from its history that can inform more conscious development.

Regarding sustainability, this thesis emphasises that the original meaning of this word has been less underscored in its modern conceptualisation. According to its

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original meaning, sustainability is the capacity to maintain and endure. As discussed in Chapter 1, the modern conceptualisation of sustainability proposed by the Brundtland Commission reveals an important perspective. This perspective provides a long-term vision that focuses on the capacity of future generations to meet their needs, which should not be compromised by the present generation. However, if ‘the needs’ are growing, whether the sustainability described in Brundtland’s perspective can be achieved is debatable. Therefore, the capacity to maintain and endure may also be underscored.

In practice, it can be hard to achieve the goal of pursuing sustainability by relying on formal and internal change. The superficial borrowing from pre-modern vernacular architecture often result in adopting the pre-modern vernacular aesthetic without the accompanying pre-modern way of being. However, there is equally little chance to borrow non-superficially, such as the way of being. As shown in the experiment of the Australian first autonomous architecture conducted by The University of Sydney, the self-sustained life in the building failed in practice. Amidst of a modern world, from the supplement of lighting, hot water system to thermal comfort are all inevitably influenced by the outside expectation. It is hard to start a different way of being against modernity. Therefore, this thesis suggests gradual adjustment. The pre-modern way of being cannot be grafted into any modern societies in a short time, but minor and persistent adjustment in architectural design and way of being would be achievable. This does not mean going back to the old days or keeping nostalgia, but searching for sustainable merits that can be shared by both our modern society and pre-modern vernacular architecture. Then through practice, these merits can be further tested and discussed.Given the insights gained from this study, the thesis highlights the considerable potential of architectural renewal. ‘Progress’ and changes in architecture do not necessarily rely on the invention of new physical forms or material updates. Ideally, in the architectural discipline, ‘progress’ should be understood as a concept that is much deeper than improvement based on physical changes. The capacity to sustain a current state or to renew past states is also a type of progress. In defining progress, references to the past foster a deeper and more nuanced conception of time and, in turn, better engagement with

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intergenerational equality and sustainability, which are represented by values such as cultural continuity, community cohesion, enduring social relations, the effective use of resources, profundity, a detailed understanding of history, a veneration of nature, and harmony with the natural environment. By reviewing the selected cases in detail, an enriched understanding of architectural progress has been proposed. These alternative ideas draw their strength and logic from references to the cultural past and nature. Such traditional sources of knowledge are shown to offer rich opportunities for renewal and progress. Such sources of knowledge would be central to developing coherent and productive architectural approaches as daunting environmental and cultural challenges arise. This thesis thus provides a perspective that deepens the understanding of sustainable architecture.

Architecture is about both tangible physical forms and intangible cultural meanings, but the latter is more likely to be ignored as architectural ‘progress’ is pursued and evaluated. Now is the time to pay more attention to the power of intangible cultural meaning and its evolution in architecture when low-carbon living and sustainability are the primary concerns. The unchanged architectural form with evolved cultural meaning should also be emphasised as a type of progress in architecture.

Collective participation is indispensable when linking intangible cultural meaning to the tangible physical forms of architecture. It also contributes to the renewal of the cultural meaning of architecture because collective memory and ethics are largely consolidated and propagated during the collective design and construction process. Without collective engagement, the intangible cultural meaning of architectural works will shrink and become unintelligible and meaningless. If the attached intangible meaning only belongs to a particular circle or a handful of individuals, it will not be recognised as ‘culture’, and its power to sustain the stable material nature of architecture will be neutralised.

Beyond focusing on the transformation of architectural forms and its diversity, it is also important to concentrate on what has remained the same and to then discuss whether it should change. The significance of history lies in its ability not only to reveal opportunities to better understand the present and to see ahead more clearly but also to act as a resource that allows us to search for the constancy of 234

nature, order or principles. Similarly, the natural environment is not only a resource for scenery and materials but also the fundamental basis of what is essential for being, dwelling and shelter.

The contributions of this thesis and the potential future studies built upon it are as follows. First, based on pre-modern vernacular architecture and the history and culture that support such architecture, this research proposes a new perspective from which to discuss the conceptualisation of progress in the context of our pursuit of sustainability. It reveals an evolution of architecture that mainly relies on the renewal of intangible cultural heritage rather than formal changes or material improvements. Collective craft culture, which uses the past to imagine the future and a revigorated relationship with nature, has been central to sustaining the evolution of architecture. Simultaneously, this study provides primary materials obtained through fieldwork and the literary works of imperial times in the service of this discourse. Such research demonstrates that the use of vernacular architecture to inform the study of modernist approaches is a useful model that can be pursued further.

Second, this thesis undertakes critical analyses of how the prevailing ideology of progress has influenced modern architects’ reading of the vernacular and others’ evaluations of these architects’ work. This research offers a rethinking of certain modern approaches to architecture. The narrow concept of architectural progress that posits that a new form must be invented to reflect changing times and fashion stands at odds with architects’ enthusiasm for the vernacular and the past. This narrow idea of progress may limit the power of collective craft culture, the veneration of the past and a revigorated relationship with nature—with adverse effects. The modern architects studied here found that exploiting vernacular cultural traditions that both sustained architectural forms and developed intangible cultural meaning was relatively challenging.

Third, this study discusses architectural progress and sustainability from a historical and cultural perspective. It shows how to exploit the potential of architectural renewal to confront challenges and to search for alternative ideas and practices. In this study, pre-modern Chinese vernacular architecture is the vehicle 235

for exploration. In future studies, other vernacular architectures on the global stage can be explored, which may expand the concept of progress and develop additional insights into sustainability.

Finally, to achieve sustainable progress in architecture that relies less on physical changes, this thesis translates the findings of this research into four principles. First, architects should not ignore or belittle the potency of symbolic meaning, i.e., how architecture is used and artistically interpreted. It would be beneficial for architects to understand that, in addition to new architectural forms, tradition can also be invented.11 Second, the architect can not only be an individual designer but also act as an organiser to promote collective craft culture. Collective design and construction mean more than boosting innovation via collective intelligence or using collaboration to realise individual concepts. They also mean being more cautious in the adoption of gratuitous innovation, pursuing balanced power between participants and strengthening social cohesion. The ethic that reminds us that material innovations can be counterproductive and should be tested and questioned must be emphasised. Third, an architect should be wary of any mind- set that conceives of a design by criticising the past. Instead, the past should be an important foundation that helps imagine the future. Thus, an architect must consider whether the past is the local community’s collective memory or the architect’s personal understanding. Fourth, ancient cosmic models prove that humans can also feel spiritually sheltered between the canopy of sky and the earth, and an ideal architecture is simply an interpretation of our relationship with the natural environment. This deeper role of architecture deserves more attention. In future studies, these principles should be further examined and justified.

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Notes to Chapter 6

1 Liang, Ssu-ch’eng and Fairbank, Wilma, A Pictorial History of Chinese Architecture (MIT Press, 1984); Pan, Guxi 潘谷西, Zhongguo jianzhushi 中国建筑史 [A history of Chinese architecture] (Zhongguo jianzhu gongye chubanshe, 2009); Fletcher, Banister, A History of Architecture on the Comparative Method (London: Batsford, 1905); See Zha’s interview with Lao Nu in Zha, Jianying, China Pop (New Press, 1996). 2 Fu, Xinian, ed., Fu Xinan jianzhushi lunwenji 傅熹年建筑史论文集 [Collected papers of Fu Xinian on architecture history] (Wenwu chubanshe, 1998). 3 Liu, An 刘安, Huainanzi 淮南子; Liu, An 刘安, “Benjing xun 本经训 [Fundamental norm]”. 4 Guan Zi 管子, Wufu 五辅. For more references see 3.1 in Chap. 3. 5 Zhang, Wu 张鹜, Chao ye qian zai 朝野佥载. For more references of the same motif see 3.1 in Chap. 3. 6 Xu, Guangqi 徐光启, Nongzheng quanshu 农政全书 [Complete book of agricultural activities]; Wang, Qi 王槭, Qiudeng conghua 秋灯丛话 (Jinan: Huanghe chubanshe, 1990). For more references on the same subject see 3.1 in Chap. 3. 7 Also see Ruan, Xing, Allegorical Architecture: Living Myth and Architectonics in Southern China. 8 Arbuckle, Gary, “Restoring Dong Zhongshu (195–115 BCE): An Experiment in Historical and Philosophical Reconstruction”. 9 See Liu, An, Huainanzi 淮南子 [A collection of scholarly debates held at the court of Huainanzi]; Fang, Tao 方韬, Shanhaijing 山海经 [The Classic of mountains and seas]; Sima, Qian 司马迁 and Zhang, Dake 张大可, Shi ji 史记 [Records of the grand historian]; Lie Zi 列子 and Jing, Zhong 景中 Lie Zi 列子 [The thoughts and philosophy of Lei Zi]; Wang, Chong 王充, Lunheng 论衡 [Discourse balanced ] ;The Provincial Survey Team of Folk Literature in Lijiang, Chuangshiji: Naxi minjian shishi 创世纪:纳西族民间史诗 [Genesis: the Naxi epic]. 10 Ruan proposes that there has been an evolution in the outlook from dwellings. From the ancient Roman domus and the pre-modern Chinese courtyard to the modern taste for high-rise apartments with wide views, the preferred vista has moved from the vertical to the horizontal. See Ruan, Xing, “Why the Million-dollar View is Bad for Our Body and Our Soul”. 11 In this regard, inspiration can be found in Hobsbawm and Ranger’s The Invention of Tradition. Hobsbawm, Eric and Ranger, Terence, The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge University Press, 2012).

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Appendix A: A Matrix of Investigated Architectural Examples

Focused vernacular principles: 1. Use of common regional built forms and local materials 2. Architectural form inherited from precedents stably 3. Built to accommodate common local values, culture 4. Collectively produced within a community (design and construction are combined) 5. To connect with the past, the tradition and collective memories 6. To harmonise with natural environment

Diverse Approaches The Connection to Architectural Examples Focused Vernacular Vernacular Architecture Principles

1 2 3 4 5 6

Villa Fallet, Villa Jacquemet and Villa Le Corbusier used precedents Stotzer from vernacular architecture

by Le Corbusier (Before 1912) and integrated them into his works.

Maison Citrohan Corbusier’s cases address by Le Corbusier (1920) principle 2 consistently, for Villa d’Auteuil example he was inspired by the

enclosed courtyards from by Le Corbusier (1922) Arabian architecture. He finally Maison de week-end obtained achievement in both by Le Corbusier (1923) theory and design through this approach in Villa Savoye. In the Villa La Roche-Jeanneret investigated examples, Le

by Le Corbusier (1923) Corbusier attempted to realize Villa Savoye his impression of the enclosed courtyards. by Le Corbusier (1929-31) In these examples, the architect did not really use local materials and did not take

sufficient consideration of local values at beginning, but the final success suggests the value of a careful reading of vernacular architecture.

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Diverse Approaches The Connection to Architectural Examples Focused Vernacular Vernacular Architecture Principles

1 2 3 4 5 6

New Gourna Hassan Fathy addressed by Hassan Fathy (1984) vernacular approaches in a more comprehensive way by taking a greater range of principles in the project of New Gourna. Hassan Fathy’s connection to the past is notable. This architect was passionate about reviving the tradition. Fathy’s case addresses principle 4 consistently.

Fathy used local materials and

especially explored the technique of using earth bricks. He also searched for a precedent form from vernacular architecture to represent the national identity. So his case is also consistent with principle 1 and 2. The local value and a special perspective towards the past formed an obstacle between the Fathy with Gournis. They held different view of the project of New Gourna. Yuhu Primary School Li Xiaodong took three by Li Xiaodong (2002-04) principles in the project of Yuhu Primary School. Compared with earlier examples, he practiced in a more comprehensive way. Li Xiaodong invited local people to participate in this project and this attempt of Li was celebrated broadly by various media. Li Xiaodong’s case addresses principle 4 consistently. In this project, both local materials and the form of local vernacular architecture have been involved. Therefore, it is also consistent with principle 1 and 2. Both modern and local building materials were used.

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Diverse Approaches The Connection to Architectural Examples Focused Vernacular Vernacular Architecture Principles

1 2 3 4 5 6

Some precedent architectural forms were applied in the design, but there were details that did not draw sufficient attention. Apparently the buildings seem harmonious with the local natural environment, but it could not fit into the special climate condition.

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Appendix B: Timeline of Chinese History

ca. 2100–1600 BCE Xia (Hsia) dynasty ca. 1600–1050 BCE Shang dynasty ca. 1046–256 BCE Zhou (Chou) dynasty Western Zhou (ca. 1046–771 BCE) Eastern Zhou (ca. 771–256 BCE) 770–476 BCE Spring and Autumn period 475–221 BCE Warring States period 221–206 BCE Qin (Ch’in) dynasty 206 BCE–220 CE Han dynasty Western/Former Han (206 BCE–9 CE) Eastern/Later Han (25–220 CE) 220–589 CE Six dynastyies period Three Kingdoms (220–265 CE) Jin dynasty (265–420 CE) Period of the Northern and Southern dynasties (386–589 CE) 581–618 CE Sui dynasty 618–906 CE Tang (T’ang) dynasty 907–960 CE Five dynastyies period 960–1279 Song (Sung) dynasty Northern Song (960–1127) Southern Song (1127–1279) 1279–1368 Yuan dynasty 1368–1644 Ming dynasty 1644–1912 Qing (Ch’ing) dynasty 1912–1949 Republic period 1949–present People’s Republic of China

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