Pursuit·Exploration: The Architectural Footprints of Dai Fudong

Author: Dai Fudong
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 1999-05-01
Features:
Excerpt: ———Architecture and Literature
Architecture and literature are at first glance two unrelated disciplines, but upon deeper exploration, we can discover that they have long shared an inherent and intricate connection. A fundamental task of architecture is to create a beautiful living and behavioral environment for contemporary people under the economic and social conditions of each era, utilizing the technological capabilities, artistic understanding, and humanistic concern of architects and engineering technicians. Literature, on the other hand, is the product of writers and literary workers of all times, driven by a love for humanity, employing their keen observation, rich imagination, and linguistic organization skills to celebrate and inspire people to pursue and create a better life, sense of value, and atmosphere. Ultimately, people's beautiful life, emotions, and atmosphere are inseparable from the environment in which they live and act. In this regard, the two are closely related, mutually supportive, complementary, and interdependent, sharing a common purpose despite their different approaches.
Specifically, the integration of architecture and literature can take various forms and levels, direct or indirect, superficial or deep. One of the most direct methods is to use certain surfaces of a building to express people's thoughts, emotions, and intentions through written words. However, this requires discernment between refinement and crudeness, beauty and ugliness. There is a joke about a greedy and cruel landlord who was hated by his neighbors. They covered the walls of his courtyard with insults and drawings. The landlord whitewashed the walls, making them clean again, and then wrote five large characters on them: "No Painting Allowed!" The next day, everything was peaceful. The next day, the landlord left the house and saw five new characters added: "Why did you paint?" Enraged, he wrote five more: "I Paint My Own Wall!" The next day, when he opened the door and stepped out, he saw five bold characters: "Let Everyone Paint!" The landlord was speechless. This is an example of using architectural surfaces as a tool for venting frustration, a phenomenon that damages not only the building but also the human environment. The graffiti of "××× visited here" and distorted poems carved or written on buildings and natural objects across China, the widespread phenomenon of "men's restroom literature" globally (especially in the United States, where graffiti—GRAPHITTE—is common on subway walls and sculptures), and the large-character posters and criticism slogans of the Cultural Revolution all fall into this category. These are behaviors we hope to never repeat, now or in the future.
However, using the surfaces of a building to express people's descriptions, praises, and hopes through cleverly arranged words is a positive example of the integration of architecture and literature. This practice has a long history both in China and abroad, with particularly high achievements in China. In the essay "Record of Yueyang Tower," Fan Zhongyan wrote at the beginning, "In the spring of the fourth year of the Qingli era, Teng Zijing was appointed as the governor of Tianling Prefecture. The following year, governance improved, and all abandoned projects were revived. He then rebuilt Yueyang Tower, expanding its original design and inscribing the poems of Tang and contemporary scholars on its walls. He asked me to write an essay to commemorate it." This demonstrates that as early as the Northern Song Dynasty or before, the content of literature had already been deeply embedded in the surfaces of buildings. From the perspective of integrating literature with architecture, this enriches the environment with (qiúqì—charm and interest), enhances sensory experience, and sets a mood, generally creating a complementary and mutually reinforcing effect.
In traditional Chinese architecture, this method is most commonly seen in inscriptions ( biǎnhuì) and couplets ( yínglián). For every scene, hall, pavilion, room, study, gate, door, pavilion, platform, tower, pavilion, bridge, grotto, or well, a name is chosen, made into an inscription, and placed above it, thereby defining its identity and leaving a special mark. This evokes strong feelings and aspirations in viewers. For example, "Autumn Moon over Flat Lake" and "Three Ponds Reflecting the Moon" in West Lake help people understand the relationship between the lake and the moon, highlighting the spatial and environmental features and advantages. In the western part of Suzhou's Humble Administrator's Garden, there is a small fan-shaped pavilion named "Who Shares This Pavilion with Me?" It metaphorically references Li Bai's line, "Who shares this pavilion? The breeze, the moon, and I," creating a sense of temporal and spatial immersion. In the "Towering Pavilion" area of West Lake's Three Ponds Reflecting the Moon scenic spot, there is a triangular-plan pavilion on a lotus-filled corridor named "Towering," praising both the lush lotus leaves beneath the pavilion and the pavilion itself, which stands gracefully like a lotus fairy. In the Huiqiu Garden of the Summer Palace, there is a small pavilion built near the water, named "Green Sip," evoking a sense of tranquility and joy. All of these examples utilize the charm of language and literature to enhance the practical value and aesthetic sentiment of the environment.
Additionally, some buildings or groups of buildings, through the careful planning and arrangement of designers and users, achieve a harmonious blend of nature and art, where the spiritual and the material merge, creating captivating and inspiring spaces that evoke emotional resonance. This inspiration may stem from the beauty of the immediate environment, a reaction to the "scene" or space, or it may connect the present to the past, present, and future, evoking nostalgia, reflection, and hope—a response to the "emotion" or the passage of time. These are both the power of architecture and the power of literature, with literature interpreting the environment and space through language that people can directly understand. In this regard, couplets are often an effective means. For instance, when standing in the Lotus Pond Pavilion of Daming Lake in Jinan, gazing around at the lake and mountain scenery, people are deeply moved and may exclaim, "How beautiful! How wonderful!" Yet, they may struggle to articulate precisely what makes it so. However, when they look up and see the couplet on the pavilion pillars—"Four Sides of Lotus, Three Sides of Willow; Half the City's Mountains, Half the Lake"—it suddenly becomes clear, elevating their emotional response to a rational level. At the Solitary Peak Cold Ink Society in West Lake, Hangzhou, there is a pavilion named "Four-View Pavilion," from which one can enjoy beautiful mountain and lake views in all directions. A couplet on the wall reads: "Every side has feeling, embracing water and mountains; Every heart is connected, passing on land and people." This organically combines the scenery of the environment with the emotions of the observer. The aforementioned "Towering Pavilion" in the Three Ponds Reflecting the Moon area has a couplet: "Cool mist rises from lotus leaves in the rain; Fragrance seeps through lotus flowers in the wind." The words "rain" and "wind" vividly convey the warmth and scent of the environment. Another couplet in the southern foothills of Solitary Peak in Hangzhou: "Water and mountain, bright and (xiùxiù—graceful); Sunny and rainy, always curious and good," not only describes the environment beautifully but also plays with words skillfully. In the Lixia Pavilion of Daming Lake in Jinan, there is a couplet: "Lixia Pavilion is ancient; Jinan is filled with famous scholars." This immediately brings to mind other less ancient pavilions in Lixia, elevating this one's status. Furthermore, from the antiquity of the pavilion, one reflects on the many historical and contemporary figures of Jinan, inspiring reverence for this ancient city and expanding the temporal and spatial perspective.
I, though unremarkable, made some superficial attempts in this regard in the design of the Wushan Book Studio and Tea Room in Hangzhou in 1993. I named the book studio "Xinyin Pavilion" and the performance hall "Shuyu Hall," and wrote a couplet for the stage: "Xizi and Qiantang, traversing a thousand years of joy and sorrow; Bronze pipa and iron clappers, singing the prosperity of generations." The intention was to connect listeners to West Lake and the Qiantang River, as well as to Su Shi and Xin Qiji, linking the past and present. Unfortunately, due to various reasons, the design was altered, and these ideas could not be realized.
In the late 1970s, I was assigned a new apartment by the school—a three-bedroom house with a kitchen and bathroom, connected by a narrow corridor. The space was cramped, but it was finally my own home after the Cultural Revolution. To make life more enjoyable and interesting, I pasted yellow paper scrolls with different names and phrases on each door in the corridor. I named my and my wife's room "Yizhuang Room," encouraging vigor in old age. My son's room was named "Yeqin Pavilion," meaning that diligence leads to success while play leads to decline. Our study was named "Wanhuzhu Zhai," expressing our love for books. The kitchen was labeled "Sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, fragrant, foul; Firewood, rice, oil, salt, vinegar, tea," representing seven flavors and seven essential tasks. The bathroom was named "Pushichen," a pun on "renewing the old." Though these were not highly sophisticated, I felt that in our home, this narrow and somewhat monotonous corridor, which connected all the rooms, suddenly gained a sense of vitality and brightness, allowing us to find joy in it.
All of these are direct methods, which can be both superficial and deep. Another indirect method also exists in both superficial and deep forms. In "Record of Yueyang Tower," Fan Zhongyan wrote: "I gaze upon the magnificent scenery of Baoling on Dongting Lake, where it embraces distant mountains and swallows the Yangtze River. It stretches endlessly, with morning and evening shadows creating countless moods. This is the grand view of Yueyang Tower." From this passage, we understand that the choice of location and layout of Yueyang Tower allows visitors to enjoy the beauty of Dongting Lake, fulfilling its primary role as a scenic landmark. Then, deeply moved by the scene, he reflects on a truly knowledgeable and conscientious person: "When far from the government, one worries for the ruler; When high in office, one worries for the people. Whether advancing or retreating, one is always worried. So when is one happy? One must say: Worry for the world before others worry; Rejoice for the world after others rejoice!" He wrote a great maxim that moved heaven and earth and tears the gods. Thus, the fame of the tower and the fame of the essay reinforce each other, complementing and enhancing each other.
Additionally, a core aspect of architectural creation is conception. Conception is the basis for shaping an environment that is yet to exist but has gradually matured in the creator's mind, possessing certain distinctive features. The creator must not only express it through drawings or models but also use language to provide vivid, concise, and appropriate descriptions. This is an undeniably literary activity from thought to form.