The Revolution of Space - A Flame Burning from the Suzhou Creek to the Huangpu River

Author: Deng Kunyan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: Three Hypothetical Scenarios
If a KTV were like a museum
Although I’m not a consumer of KTV entertainment, I’ve had opportunities to join the crowd from time to time. The reasons I dislike going are twofold: first, because I’m a bit old, and second, because the interior design of such places makes me uncomfortable as a design professional—it’s a personal prejudice I’ve always held. So, I often joke that if any KTV owner dares to hire me for design work, I’ll make sure they regret it. Those who say KTVs are always flashy and vulgar will surely doubt my ability to transform one. Today, I’ve taken on a KTV and given it a look so much like a museum that it proves KTVs can indeed change their image. After my "renovation," this is what it looks like.
Stealing cultural heritage aesthetics from ancestors without paying for copyright fees, and using them as freely as pepper, results in something stunningly beautiful. Why would I need to copy fake European antiques to attract people?
If the interior were like architecture
Perhaps because my initial design work was architectural, I’ve always treated interior design as a form of limited architectural design within a space. So, if my interior design has any uniqueness, I’d personally say it’s its architectural approach. In truth, this isn’t an extraordinary method—historically, many architects whose primary work was architecture also designed interiors in a similar way. My increasingly clear architectural style and spatial treatment naturally appear in my interior designs.
Today’s KTV, spanning five thousand square meters, gives me ample space to experiment—it’s like building a house inside a house. Unfortunately, constraints from the existing architectural structure and local regulations leave me feeling somewhat restricted, unable to fully unleash my architectural skills. If I could, I believe the results would be far more impressive.
Thus, the interior is essentially a Suzhou alleyway. If the owner hadn’t removed part of the garden space and layout from the third floor’s roof, it would have been a brand-new Suzhou garden. I regret that part. But when designing on Suzhou’s land, I naturally have to fully respect its cultural environment—this is the fundamental principle of design, and I believe most people would agree.
If architecture were like prose
If someone truly respects me and gives me full creative freedom, of course, I’d bring out all my skills—though perhaps only half of them. So, as someone who’s always had a habit of writing, I’ve unapologetically applied my style of prose and column writing to design.
One of the vanishing symbols of Jiangnan’s maternal culture—the century-old sailing ships of Taihu Lake—have been magically transported into the space, soaring into the sky. The roof tiles originally laid on water-town buildings have been laid sideways on the facade walls, resembling water ripples in a Chinese painting. The floor tiles originally used in gardens have also been unceremoniously applied to the walls. The ornate porcelain originally meant for rooftops has been playfully placed on the ground or in lighting fixtures. All of this