Much has changed for Ma Yansong since Archinect last spoke to him in 2014. From their roots in Beijing, China, Yansong’s firm MAD Architects has expanded to offices in Los Angeles and Rome, employing over 160 people on major architectural commissions. In 2022 alone, our editorial has offered updates on the firm’s work across continents, be it the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art in Los Angeles, the Cloud Center in Aranya, China, or the commercial MoLo complex in Milan. Added to this list in October was the Quzhou Sports Park, whose newly-completed stadium marks the first step in what will become the world’s largest earth-sheltered complex.
Following news of the stadium’s completion, Archinect’s Niall Patrick Walsh spoke with Ma Yansong for an insight into the project, and how it represents MAD’s architectural philosophy. We also use the discussion to reflect on Yansong’s own journey through architecture, his role in MAD, and his thoughts on nature, cities, and history. The discussion, edited slightly for clarity, is published below along with Archinect-exclusive photographs of the Quzhou Sports Park. You can explore the project in more detail through our previous reporting here.
Niall Patrick Walsh: Your projects are often grounded in natural imagery, such as clouds, mountains, and oceans. Does that use of natural imagery become an important tool when trying to tackle a scheme of this scale? In other words, when you have 7.5 million square feet of space to deliver, knowing where to begin must be a challenge in itself?
Ma Yansong: Nature is important to us. Often, modern developments use the surrounding city for inspiration and context. But when you stand further back, you see that nature is the context for modern cities. In Quzhou’s case, it is the mountains. So when I think about creating new experiences, new shapes, and new spaces, I seek to link each project to nature. This is an experience which is often lacking in modern cities. We build buildings for functional purposes with little connection to nature. I try not only to involve natural elements in MAD’s work but to also create a new experience that you may not otherwise find in the modern city. Something unique; an extension of nature whether on a small or large scale.
For the Quzhou Sports Park, we were asked to deliver a series of large sports facilities: a stadium, swimming pools, basketball facilities, and so on. Our approach was to ask if we could treat this stadium as a park. After all, parks and sports facilities are similar in scale. Both typologies can also perform public space functions which thousands of people could use every day. But we wanted to add more to this park. We wanted to create a piece of ‘land art.’
‘Land art’ is a good example of the natural, artistic imagery that permeates your work. In the past, we’ve seen words such as ‘halo’ and ‘volcano’ associated with this project too.
We treat nature as art. In this case, the building is literally covered by nature. We use natural elements such as trees and grass, but the form itself is artificial. It may look like a volcano, but of course, you would never experience a volcano in this way. Instead, we create the shapes that allow people to imagine something similar to nature but in a unique way. The key word is ‘surreal.’ Although people will feel and touch natural elements already familiar to them, which give comfort to them, they will also feel something surreal and strange; a little lost somehow. That quality is what we are looking for.
We are looking for the spiritual quality of nature” — Ma Yansong
So, it is more than a park. Public space is important in itself: open, accessible spaces where people can run, walk, and spend time with family. But in this space, I am looking to create an escape from daily life, from the everyday reality.
This is also a stated goal we see in much of your work: using architecture to allow people to momentarily escape everyday life.
That is the heaviest quality we are looking for: people who come here and think “this is different from daily life.” Then, they want to explore more, and look for that moment where they can imagine something they have never thought before. Perhaps they can look at this piece of land art talking to the sky, even the universe.
In other words, I think of nature as a material. I understand the function of the scheme, and the elements needed to make it functional. But I also want to transfer this functionality, this reality, into something surreal. We are looking for the spiritual quality of nature.
In some ways, it is easy to dream about creating the world’s largest earth-sheltered complex, as this project will become. But what were the challenges of trying to deliver it in real life?
The key to this project was blurring the boundary between the landscape and the building. The building is both a landscape and a structure; that is the whole concept. We, therefore, wanted to bury most of the building into the land. Architecturally, this meant trying to make everything appear abstract. If we overloaded the scheme with different materials and structural details, the elements would become too dominant. People would notice them too much. We instead wanted to center attention on the space, to create an atmosphere that people could feel.
We wanted people to experience this piece of land art seamlessly, effortlessly” — Ma Yansong
To achieve that, we wanted simple materials and simple details. But on large projects such as this, that can become difficult. Take our use of concrete. Contractors are accustomed to using concrete to create slabs, columns, and walls; clipping elements together. But if you imagine being inside a mountain, the space needs to be natural and organic. Concrete is still a great material for this. At one point in its life, concrete is a liquid that you can theoretically shape into something seamless and continuous. But economically, on a project of this scale, that’s a significant challenge. With the contractors on this project, we found a balance. We needed to create repetitive elements in order to control cost, but also something sculptural and flowing. Hence the round-shaped columns that you see wrapping around the stadium, and the cave-like entrance.
The next challenge was the halo; the roof. We treated everything else as a mountain, but we dreamed of a roof that floated. While the land should feel heavy, the roof should appear soft, levitating, and with as little structural support as possible. This was quite a challenge; creating spans of more than 100 meters between supports. It was aided by the lightweight material, which is translucent to allow dry shelter for the seating below, without obstructing natural light.
A final challenge was how to allow such a large area of grass to grow on the scheme’s various slopes, which can range from gentle to steep. There was the question of minimizing maintenance, but more importantly, we didn’t want to trigger a mudslide during a rainstorm. Mounting the grass to the main structure in a secure way was important, as was allowing for the weight of trees and thousands of people on the stadium span, which is a rare situation. But for each of these challenges, we didn’t want to showcase or expose the technologies that made the scheme possible. We wanted people to experience this piece of land art seamlessly, effortlessly.
In the past, when talking about this project, you have referred to traditional stadiums as being like “fortresses,” with little connection to the wider city. The solution to this may not always be a mountainous landscape like the Quzhou Sports Park, but in general, do architects need to rethink how we design stadiums?
Yes. The biggest issue is how stadiums are used when there are no sporting occasions. This is slightly easier in cities, as they can be more accessible to local communities. But even then, it is important to ensure that stadiums and similar facilities can interact with the city. But if a sports facility is in a suburban or remote location, we need to think about its daily use even more. You can’t simply hold games and concerts every day. These facilities, as well as the large open spaces that surround them, should also be spaces for daily public use, including parks.
We need to think about these spaces can become more participatory in urban life” — Ma Yansong
It is ironic that we often struggle to accommodate small parks and gardens in cities, and yet we have these incredibly large open spaces that nobody talks about. This is a waste. After all, sports is not only about competition. It is about participation. We need to think about these spaces can become more participatory in urban life.
We’ve touched several times on the relationship between nature and the city. This was also the subject of much of your last interview with Archinect back in 2014. You made an interesting point about Chinese cities, where you thought the boundaries between nature and the city were more blurred, and that nature was more accessible, more deeply woven into urbanism. Back then, you had recently opened your Los Angeles office, and you talked about how urbanism in the United States had a different relationship with nature; nature was more protected, more reserved. Eight years later, have you seen any movement in these relationships, now that you are firmly established in Los Angeles?
There are absolutely projects which have signaled a change. The High Line in New York City is a great example: a post-industrial infrastructure that has now become a public park anchored by nature. But when I talked about the difference between China and the United States, I was referring to traditional Chinese architecture, and the role of gardens. Even in modern Chinese cities, this connection is lacking. Therefore, for my projects, I am trying to find a new way to reconstruct this connection, often in different ways for different projects.
I believe we can create spiritual moments in modern architecture, but it is absolutely lacking now” — Ma Yansong
It is also important not to see nature in just a literal sense. I am talking about nature on a spiritual level. It is not about simply incorporating natural elements into a project. Sometimes it may not be necessary to have a natural element at all. It is about the atmosphere. In our Tunnel of Light project in the Japanese mountains, for example, there was no greenery in our scheme. Instead, we played with the reflections of water, and their interaction with the sky and landscape beyond. That is the poetic quality I am talking about.
We also applied it to this sports park. Of course, providing green space is good. Transforming a railway into gardens is good. People get great enjoyment from that. But in traditional Chinese and Japanese architecture, people found a spiritual quality, a poetic feeling, from such scenery. It is a beautiful moment, maybe the most beautiful moment in traditional building. I believe we can create these moments in modern architecture too, but it is absolutely lacking now.
When I hear MAD describe their projects, this is something that does distinguish them. There is a heavy emphasis on the human journey, and the mixture of emotions people may feel at various moments. Some other firms place an emphasis on materials and technology, but for you, it seems to be about the humans instead of the numbers.
And that is the challenge for me; it is difficult. Sometimes you enter an old building, and you find a space that you fall in love with, that you find timeless. This is something I wish to create in modern architecture. Sometimes you may use artificial materials to accomplish it, other times with natural materials. It isn’t always about the physical elements, it is more abstract than that. In contrast, sometimes, you see a modern building randomly planting trees throughout the project. These are just trees, I don’t feel anything from that. What we are trying to do goes beyond this.
Let’s talk about you, then. As anyone can see, it has been a busy eight years for MAD since the last time you spoke with Archinect. How do you feel you have changed as an architect and business owner, even as a person, in that time? Are you the same person that you were a decade ago?
I do feel some change. Back then, we were younger as a practice, and finding work was more difficult. We entered a lot of competitions where we tried to demonstrate our special energy. In those early days, the convictions and purpose behind our proposals were maybe even more important than whether or not the project was ever built. We needed to show the world who we were. It is more about self-expression.
As an architect, I also have much more sympathy for everyday citizens using the city. That is perhaps the biggest change. When I visit cities such as Quzhou, everybody is extremely busy, traveling through train stations, airports, and so on. Everybody is focused on a singular goal or destination; too focused. As an architect, I believe in offering people the space to think. We want to provide people with that moment of otherworldliness that they need, even if they don’t realize they need it. This requires architects to deeply understand people and society. Architecture has great power in this area. Architecture is not about the architect’s ego, it is about confronting social needs. That is where I find meaning.
Along the journey, I have always tried to stay curious, to learn, and to observe” — Ma Yansong
What about your role in the company today? When you just started MAD, I imagine you being heavily involved in every project. Now that you are spread across several offices, continents, and projects, has your role had to change?
I actually think I am doing the same thing as always. But this is the limit; I couldn’t do more. MAD is still very young, and we are still curious about what is next. I am adamant that I do not want to repeat steps. We are looking to be new every time. Repeating ideas is easy; you establish a method, relay it to your team, and reproduce it in project after project. We try to be more like an artist’s studio, always stepping into new territory. But I’m involved in every project from beginning to end; I know every detail. Right now, we have 140 people in Beijing, 15 in Los Angeles, and more colleagues in Rome. The number of projects we have now is at a level I feel I can still enjoy. That said, there is a limit. Right now, I am at the limit.
Was this always your vision for MAD even when you started the practice? Or has your vision for the practice changed over time?
It is a bit like parenting. When starting a family, everybody hopes to be a good parent. But of course, you make mistakes, and you learn from the process. I realized at the very beginning that my journey should be like that of an artist: it isn’t about one single product, goal, or metric. The process is more important. From that process, there are many avenues, and you never know where it will lead. Along the journey, I have always tried to stay curious, to learn, and to observe. At different stages of the journey, you have different focuses. But as I said, I don’t want to repeat. I always need to push myself to keep creating something new. That is the part I really enjoy.
Before this conversation, I watched a TED Talk you gave back in 2019. You talked about a visit to a market where you saw fish in a rectangular box, and you asked yourself ‘do fish actually want to live in a rectangle, or is that just where we put them?’ You then conducted a study of their movements and designed an alternative fishbowl that was more organic in form. [Author's note: the fishbowl can be seen in this article's cover photo.] It was a provocative metaphor, and it felt as though you had this mission of trying to rebel against the ‘boxy’ rectangular skyscrapers that dominate cities, asking a similar question of whether this is really how we wanted to live. I know you say that the process is more important than the mission, but do you nevertheless think that this is a mission underlining your career?
To me, that isn’t even a mission — it is natural. It is my way of explaining to other people why I am so much in love with nature; a feeling that I have had from the beginning. But as I progressed through the architectural profession, I found that the industry did not think like that. People were focused too much on materials and functionality. So in this metaphor, I am trying to explain my values; how I was looking for freedom. Perhaps I am the fish, and that cubic space in the market is a metaphor for modern architecture.
It is easy today to be conservative, to simply deliver a brief. But can we deliver beyond that? I believe we can” — Ma Yansong
These days, I have more space to articulate this yearning for freedom, given that our projects are of a larger scale. When I look back at past architectural masters, and some of the beauty they created in history, it makes me believe that architecture does not belong to some time or period. It can be timeless. Of course, being timeless means that people can’t place it in history at the moment you create it.
That requires us to think beyond the expectations of the public, governments, or investors. Everybody has their own goal in a project. But as architects, I believe we can think about time in a larger sense, and can look for something different. That is the quality I am looking for. It is easy today to be conservative, to simply deliver a brief. But can we deliver beyond that? I believe we can. We don’t even necessarily need to articulate it in the moment; these qualities can come to speak for themselves in the longer span of time.
I’m glad you mentioned past architectural masters. In that same TED Talk, you called for a move away from the idea of architecture as a “machine to live in” and to think more about architecture’s connection to nature. There are echoes here of some of architecture’s largest historical figures in the 20th century, namely Le Corbusier’s idea of the house as “a machine for living in” and even Frank Lloyd Wright’s advocacy for an “organic architecture.” I’m curious about how architectural history plays on your mind. Who do you draw inspiration from?
I have two architectural heroes. I admire Antoni Gaudí. He was a genius and an advocate for nature. Without Gaudí, Spanish architecture is still wonderful, but it would be lacking something. He was that special. My other hero is Oscar Niemeyer. He also had an affinity with the organic, be it curves, freedom, light, or sand. He loved life, and he loved people. I admire this form of romanticism that makes simple architecture very emotional. Even if people did not know of these architects, they could still enter one of their buildings and feel something.
In the architecture I seek, there is always some genius, some special spark” — Ma Yansong
It is interesting that you mentioned Le Corbusier and Frank Lloyd Wright. Time had a heavy impact on their career. They both experienced post-war changes in their economies and technologies, and hence they both sought to apply new thinking to architecture. But in the end, if you look at Le Corbusier’s later work in the Chapel Ronchamp, it is so organic and sculptural. It is like art. It barely applies any of the modern principles he championed. Frank Lloyd Wright’s late Guggenheim Museum in New York is similar. Somehow, this was their destiny. They were artists trying to find their role in society, in their era. But their last pieces were more personal, and to me, more valuable to history.
Architectural history often seeks to associate a building, or a type of building, with its time. I don’t like that. It treats architecture as without soul; it frames architecture as a product that adheres to technology, politics, or culture. But in the architecture I seek, there is always some genius, some special spark. An architecture that may rebel against its time, but in the end, shows that humans have emotion; a special quality.
Niall Patrick Walsh is an architect and journalist, living in Belfast, Ireland. He writes feature articles for Archinect and leads the Archinect In-Depth series. He is also a licensed architect in the UK and Ireland, having previously worked at BDP, one of the largest design + ...
13 Comments
As hilariously pedestrian has his pontification on Chinese landscape art is - MAD panders to Western audiences with its mystique-tinged brand of greenwashing - the business that Ma and his co-founders have built has been an astonishing success. They are the first Mainland firm to break into the international starchitect market and they seem to be right behind ZHA as far as style goes - albeit with some more catching up to do in terms of technical expertise. But they do freeform works much better than their competitors.
Is he escaping from paying his minions still?
There's a line around the block trying to get an interview with this place unfortunately. They are in the upper echelons of starchitects now and there's no shortage of interns begging for a chance to render their curves.
Easy to design when you don’t have to worry about paying your staff.
Hiding comments that criticize this guy because of his use of slave labour is not a good look, Archinect. Looking at you, big green head.
What is the evidence to support that accusation? I met with and interviewed MAD's LA office recently (interview posting soon) and in my interview, I specifically ask their opinion about unpaid labor, and if they've ever been engaged with it. They are very strongly against unpaid work. This is a strong belief also shared at Archinect. Making such accusations about any employer, without having real evidence, is irresponsible.
Thanks Paul. My pov on this comes from a lecture/speaking gig of his many years ago I attended and same question of unpaid internships was posed and he was very evasive. Gave a experience is worth the same as income type answer. Granted this was quite some time ago but it certainly soured my view.
Hard to take criticism when they place ads on Archinect. Yes, I worked with someone, that worked in their Beijing office and never got paid a dime.
Can confirm he's been paying interns since at least 2009.
I think it was them that I recall having a disclaimer on their jobs hiring page a few years back basically saying not to contact them about unpaid internships because it devalues the profession. Can't say much else, but I always thought that was a classy move.
I had multiple classmates work at this office for co-op semesters and were definitely paid. Ironically, the classmates who went to work for very famous starchitects in the country next door were not paid at all.
being paid is a low bar.. i'm going to go out on a limb and guess that these wages weren't great?
depends on what you mean by not great, significantly lower than Europe/American wages yes, but at the time Beijing's cost of living was crazy low. I had enough for half the rent of a 2bedroom on the second ring road and ate my fill of good food. The firm also comp'd most lunches and dinners too.
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