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 venues is simply uncomfortable for me as a design professional—it’s a personal bias 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 KTV is always flashy and gaudy will surely doubt my ability to transform it. Today, I’ve taken on a KTV and given it a look so much like a museum that you’ll see for yourself—those who say KTV can’t change its image are wrong. After my "renovation," it turned out like this.
Stealing cultural heritage aesthetics from ancestors without paying copyright fees, and using them as freely as pepper, creates 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 in architecture, 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—throughout history, 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 5,000 square meters, gives me enough space to let my creativity run wild—it’s like building a house inside a house. Unfortunately, due to structural limitations and local regulations, I still feel somewhat restricted, unable to fully unleash my architectural skills. Otherwise, with my current expertise in architecture, I believe the results would be far more impressive.
Thus, this 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 think most people would agree.
If architecture were like prose
If someone truly respects me and gives me the full opportunity, of course, I’d bring out all my skills—or at least half of them. So, as someone who’s always had a habit of writing, I’ve boldly 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 traditional Chinese paintings. The floor tiles originally used in gardens have also been unceremoniously applied to the walls. The ornate porcelain originally meant for the roof has been playfully placed on the ground or in lighting fixtures. All of this