niuniu Zhao
Architecture, 2022-2024 Works in progress...
INDEX
01. Library Remix 02. The Ark
03. Temple, LA
04. Red Chamber
05. Tokyo Nightclub
06. Cliff House
07. Building Project
Library Remix:
Frame-work x Play-ground
Core III, Yale School of Architecture
Year: Autumn/Winter 2023
Site: 182 Grand Ave, New Haven, CT, USA
Critic: Stella Betts
... gridspace as protected chaos ... as structure, amusement ... scaffold, potentiality ... maze, encounter
The brief calls for adaptive reuse of Fair Haven Branch Library, a 10,644 square-foot brick building dating back to 1917. On the east, the existing building is parted from a local middle school by a 28,500 squarefoot open lot. The brief asked for ~25,000 square-foot added programme, and in particular the incorporation of squash courts. 60% of the lot must remain open. Responding to the simplicity and elegance of the existing building, as well as site conditions, the volumetric operation is a simple triplication, extending the existing massing into a long “bar”. The overall, two-in-one structural and spatial strategy is to insert a system of steel columns and beams — a three-dimensional grid — into the brick shell. The laying of the grid is highly calibrated in order to accommodate and create functional opportunities: the first third of the grid is subdivided into three, generating larger spaces for open-plan reading, learning, and gathering, counterbalancing the enclosure of the existing brick structure; the next third is subdivided into four, accommodating the size of squash courts; and the final third is subdivided into five, creating a variety of smaller, open-air or enclosed spaces that can be used variously as studios, exhibition spaces, neighbourhood shops, or additional reading rooms.
In contrast to the calculated evenness of the plan, the playful inner spirit of the building is revealed in section. The undulation of the squash courts, and the advance/retreat of floor plates create variable height experiences and intentional or unintentional views. While a grid system remains legible, one finds disruptions like a Z-shaped auditorium, a super-tall swing, a dressing room between two squash courts, a slide connecting two floors, or a double-height hidden bar… The entire extension is clad in a translucent skin, in juxtaposition to the solidity of the existing brick. The building is ambivalent between extroversion and introversion; simultaneously open and shy. At times, a second layer of skin is inserted to ensure climactic control, allowing a mixture of warm and cold spaces. A friendly public square lies between the school and the library, the main avenue and the residential street, where the grid bleeds out onto the open lot, metamorphosing into a system more graphic and kinetic, reminiscent of Piet Mondrian. The landscape composition is a patchwork of turf, sand, and paving, stitched together by intersecting bands of square modules. When on the ground, the modules are concrete pavings; when raised to different heights, the modules are wooden seaters or planters.
conceptual clusters and initial experiments: the manifold meanings, metonymic, of “play” and “games”; an amusement park for all hides within a banal frame;
an intermediate massing model showing cuboid silouettes in a cage, which are squash courts.
section C (east-west)
On the eastern facade, a dramatic staircase is hung, acting as circulation and invitation, signature and disruption.
From the exterior staircase, through a large sliding door, the visitor steps onto a corridor, where one may view the activities below, or advance to enter a squash court.
The sunken, outdoor-indoor, public-private area presents multiple oxymorons, and a flexible playground.
The final third is subdivided into five, creating a variety of smaller, open-air and enclosed spaces that can be used variously as studios, exhibition spaces, or reading rooms.
1’ - 1/8’’ model. Chipboard, 3D-printing, spray paint.
The Ark
Core IV, Yale School of Architecture
Year: Spring 2024
Site: Secaucus Junction, NJ, USA
Critic: David Eugin Moon
Team: Tony Hongyi Wang, Niuniu Zhao
“A house is a machine for living in. Baths, sun, hot-water, cold-water, warmth at will, conservation of food, hygiene, beauty in the sense of good proportion.”
- Le Corbusier, 1923
Every day, tens of thousands of people travel to and fro on the train between Manhattan’s Penn Station and New Jersey’s Secaucus Junction. The studio brief asks for an urban intervention in the Secaucus Transit Village Redevelopment area, addressing two of the region’s most pressing issues: sea-level rise and housing. Our site strategy anticipates sea-level rise on a 100-year scale, and works with the invasion of the wetland to generate vibrant public waterfront scenarios. Noting the physical proximity of a large residential compound and the infrastructural proximity of Manhattan to the site, we intend to both enhance the everyday life of the local community and create a destination for the wider New Jersey and New York area. The project aims at symbiosis between infrastructure and recreation, scripting optimised energy use and healthy work-life balance for the future. Upon arrival at the Secaucus Junction Station, one encounters a mixed-use public recreation zone. Starting with market stalls under the highway, the largely outdoor recreation zone is a composition of green park spaces, an amphitheatre, a skate park, as well as a garage with a rooftop cinema. After crossing the second highway via a skywalk, one arrives at the expansive waterfront civic
space, looking towards the monumental Ark across a little distance on the marsh. Ambiguously tethered to shore, as if floating away at any moment, the Ark is both totally utilitarian and totally mythological. Our proposal responds to the real demand for data centre architecture in the age of artificial intelligence, and seeks to address the real challenges of their climate impact.
Rising from a base of server rooms, the Ark is one part indoor farms, one part thermal baths. At the tail end of the thermal baths, the space becomes exterior and mingles with the marshland. The servers provide heat for the thermal spa in particular, the building in general, and potentially the local community as a whole, creating an efficient system of energy use. The facade consists of an inner layer of standard insulated glazing, and an outer layer composed of thousands of individually, electronically dimmable 50cm x 50cm glass panels. Different parts of the building can be customised to be comfortable for people and crops. The Ark is infrastructure that doubles as entertainment, a power plant and a weekend getaway. It is a refuge from the intense urban conditions of Manhattan, providing a sense of escape and therapy amid the marshland. It is more modern than modern, and perhaps only apparently healthy.
programmatic diagram
The facade consists of an inner layer of standard insulated glazing, and an outer layer composed of thousands of individually, electronically dimmable 50cm x 50cm glass panels. While maintaining a monolithic appearance from a distance, variations on the facade are experienced inside the building. Different parts of the building can be customised to be comfortable for people and crops.
The servers provide heat for the thermal spa in particular, the building in general, and the local community as a whole. The absorption of excessive heat by human activities mitigates the climate concern of data centres.
Arrival at Seacaucus Junction train station...
Waterfront public life: green spaces, shallow pools, bike lanes...
... View of the masterplan from home.
Vertical farms powered by data centres beneath...
Temple, LA
Advanced Studio, Yale School of Architecture
Year: Autumn/Winter 2024
Site: Inglewood Oil Fields, Los Angeles, USA
Critic: Ma Yansong
Team: U Jin Seah, Niuniu Zhao
“... Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain.”
- T.S.Eliot, 1922
west elevation, niuniu zhao
The 1,000-acre Inglewood Oil Field, an anomaly in the middle of Los Angeles’s city fabric, dates back to the 1920s. Having produced almost 400 million barrels — having become increasingly controversial due to environmental concerns, the oil field was finally voted to close in 2021. Against the backdrop of an extractive past, we propose a global seed bank as the preservative, regenerative future. Looking to extend the CGIAR network to North America for the first time, we bring a critical mission, concerned with the future of humanity under environmental and political crises, to the abandoned oil field. The seed bank is, in essence, an inverted temple. Belonging to something more perennial, more fundamental than the city around it, it is oriented to the true north, and positioned to maintain a direct relationship to the sea and mountains. Like the Parthenon, it is situated at the highest point of the site. Unlike the Parthenon, it is built downwards — to provide a maximally secure environment for seed storage and biological research, to keep the seeds at ideal low temperatures in the most energy-efficient way. The vast open fields, variously planted with crops, flowers in bloom, or fruit trees, provide an otherworldly experience for LA residents, both meditative and Disney-like.
For operative efficiency, the open fields follow a grid layout, allowing researchers and machines to easily circulate. Each field has an irrigation channel that draws water from a reservoir underneath the central building. Surrounded and protected by acres of planting ground, the seed bank becomes a focal point, generating its own force-field of production, activity, and spiritual phenomena. There are two points of entry to the site: a vehicular access point from the southwest, and a pedestrian access point from the northeast, both based on existing infrastructure. While staff and researchers have direct underground access to the lower levels of the building, the public can reach the ground-level open plaza via prescribed routes, on foot or by cable car. The ground level of the seed bank — the civic platform — offers a contemplative space for public use. From there, the public may descend to the level below, where, on a limited visitor circuit, one can view the heavy, opaque seed vault, a black box suspended by a truss structure. Deeper down, infrastructural, research and administrative spaces are only open to staff. The seed bank deploys and inverts the language of the ancient, humanises and occupies the sacred, and welcomes and resists public infiltration.
Inglewood oil fields, Los Angeles.
The Parthenon, Athens.
The seed bank is, in essence, an inverted temple. Like the Parthenon, it is situated at the highest point of the site. Unlike the Parthenon, it is built downwards rather than upwards — to provide a maximally secure environment for seed storage and biological research, to keep the seeds at ideal low temperatures in the most energy-efficient way. The seed bank is self-effacing, elusive, and quiet.
The vast open fields, variously planted with crops, flowers in bloom, or fruit trees, provide an otherworldly experience for LA residents, both meditative and Disney-like. For operative efficiency, the open fields follow a grid layout, allowing researchers and machines to easily circulate. While staff and researchers have direct underground access to the lower levels of the building, the public can reach the ground-level open plaza via prescribed routes, on foot or by cable car.
model photo
the electric circuit: techno-temple at night...
the vault: hyper-digitised seed storage system...
the civic platform: plaza under the sky...
the lab: diffused daylight...
the engine: suspended structures, exposed mechanics, and water reservoir.
Dream of the Red Chamber
Core II, Yale School of Architecture
Year: Spring 2023
Site: 73 Howard St, New Haven, CT, USA
Critic: Eeva-Liisa Pelkonen
“The red lamp was on the table. The moon was shining brilliantly through the window… A moment’s reflection told him that what he had just experienced had been a dream.”
- Cao Xue Qin, c. 1760
Inspired by the eighteenth-century Chinese novel, Dream of the Red Chamber (红楼梦) aka Story of The Stone (石头记), one of the greatest novels ever written, the project experiments with a narrative-based design process, and imagines communal housing in the lineage of classical siheyuan (四合院) typology. The novel unfolds primarily within the walls of a family compound, relating in detail the daily rituals, intrigues, secrets, and power dynamics among some thirty main characters and over four hundred minor ones. Inheriting aristocratic titles from two generations before, the Jia Family is one of the most powerful in the country. Four generations reside together and separately in Jia House, a large estate that takes equal care in its lush gardens as its rooms, giving as much play-scape as utilitarian space. The project is carefully programmed to formally and functionally reflect the narrative, albeit in a contemporised mode. To that end, the pronounced topographical character and plentiful trees of the site serve as both constraints and opportunities. The compound consists of five parts. Two bars at the front house various private-public functions, and three courtyards accommodate members of the family. Business ventures and underhand deals are concocted in tea rooms, protégés are
received in the private library, domestic accounting and extramarital affairs take place in the daughter-in-law’s bedroom, festive dinner parties spill into the courtyard from the grand dining room… As the topography rises, we move, via an oblique, understated entry, through a sequence of social spaces — then guest suites — then duplexes, for the middle-generation married couples — then the matriarch’s apartment, surrounded by private communal spaces — and finally to the little collective of the teenagers. Water appears throughout to give the appearance of serenity. Next to the central dining room, a long pool provides a mode of circulation, passing the matriarch’s bathroom, to the teenager’s commune. On the macro-level, the deeper the sub-compound, the more protected and less worldly its inhabitants. On the micro-level, the various thresholds are syntactical, mimicking a code of conduct, such that whilst crossing a certain threshold might mean nothing to the naive outsider, it is loaded with meanings for a member of the family who is familiar with the architecture. The insistence of or departure from the siheyuan typology, the consistency or difference among units, the access and denials... are carefully calibrated to achieve semiotic performance.
From family tree to site plan - a story of generations.
an interest in traditional building typologies prompted a semiotic, indexical investigation into thresholds and courtyards.
plan: the grand garden
The formality of the architecture is contrasted by the meandering landscape. Like classical Chinese gardens, the landscape surrounding the house is filled with abundant vegetation, completed with water, and dotted with contemplative pavilions. Whilst a covered walkway on the edge of the plot serves as a screen from the outside world and an efficient route for goods and services, the paths of the garden are designed to take one on a leisurely stroll, encountering the oldest trees and various gentle topographical surprises.
From the beginning and at each moment in Dream of the Red Chamber, we know the Jia family is destined to decline, and in some twenty years all of it will come to nothing. As the narrative unfolds, and as the architecture unfolds, one imagines the compound with all its solidity as future ruin — possibly then a different kind of commune, possibly a hotel.
the tearoom with pond view...
with bamboo garden...
duplex
the landscape in autumn...
Folded Music Box: Tokyo Nightclub x School
Core I, Yale School of Architecture
Year: Autumn/Winter 2022
Site: 5 Chome-2-6 Minami-Aoyama, 107-0062 Tokyo, Japan
Critic: Nicholas McDermott
“Nothing but a metaphor after all, travelling from far back in my memory and arriving to embellish Le Palace with a final charm: the one that comes to us from the fictions of culture.”
- Roland Barthes, 1978
Speculative plan showing a performing arts school with a swimming pool on one side, a nightclub with a secret space (accessible via a fake toilet stall) on the other, sharing an open courtyard in the middle.
niuniu zhao
This introductory, process-driven studio moves through a series of discrete exercises and culminates in a 10,000-square-foot small public building with a hybrid programme. Tokyo: a city marked by a condition of delirium, a city famous for its double life in the day and after dark, full of simultaneous events and intrigue. A corner lot in Aoyama, the site is situated in a dense, affluent, ultra-modern area. Taking inspiration from the sparkling nightlife of Tokyo, and the unexpected presence of schools near the site, the building takes on a double life as a children’s music school/nightclub. Based on a dynamic scarf pattern, showing folded and interlocking uniforms, the first speculative plan (see previous page) emerges from geometric manipulation. On the street side, the front door allows visitors into a calm, spacious entry area; on the back side, an inconspicuous door leads clubgoers through a long, dazing tunnel, depositing them in a landing between two dance floors. On the school side, the well-lighted spaces are complete with a full-service pool and three studios. On one corner, a coffeeshop serves the building’s visitors; on another, an ice cream shop serves the public. On the club side, patrons are provided with a glamorous bathroom and a catwalk on the mezzanine
level. On occasion, the clubgoers may heighten their party experience with the availability of a pool; or the schoolchildren may use the dance floors for a rehearsal. In the centre, what is a serene courtyard during the day becomes a smoking area at night. The provision and denial of circulatory or visual access are carefully orchestrated. Elements and geometries continue in plan on both sides of a wall, unknown to users at the experiential level. The final design for a three-storey building builds upon the attitude and geometry of the initial plan exercise. There, the music school occupies the entire ground floor, and parts of the upper floors; the nightclub is accessible via a hidden entry on the second floor, and continues onto the top floor. A game of hide-and-seek continues from the exterior to the interior. The alternation of walls, frames, and glass at times gives maximum views into adjacent rooms, and at times gives maximum opacity. Modest sectional shifts further enable the play. From a music studio one can glimpse the pool. The interior is a layered stage with hidden continuities, with the intention to script surprising thresholds and subconscious resonances. The building is both a continuation of its surrounding chaos, and a protected sanctuary, escape, world of its own.
the vanity fair of Tokyo: beauty, nightlife, performing arts, and schools.
The final building evokes the folding and draping of fabric in three dimensionality, which continues from the exterior into the interior. The design of the envelope is a sartorial operation, where layers of coverage are draped over an interior structure of thick walls. The culminating, layered facade is tailored in a way that fits the programmatic intentions inside — at times openings are cut, at times the drapery is continued by glass.
1’ - 1/4” model. foamboard, paper. The folding, draping, layering of the tailored envelope.
Cliff House
Summer Foundations, Yale School of Architecture
Year: Summer 2022
Site: Stairwell, Rudolph Hall
Critics: Nikole Bouchard, Jerome Tryon
My first exercise in architecture, the twoweek-long project imagines a dwelling for an anti-gravitational creature: Luci from Disenchantment, a good-at-heart “personal demon” who looks like, and is often mistaken for, a cat. The “site” is a gap between a bench and a thick concrete railing in the back staircase of Rudolph Hall, the home of Yale School of Architecture. The con-
crete railing serves, at the same time, as a pedestal for a mysterious, almost out-ofplace statue; and behind the bench is an atrium. Working at an imaginary, blown-up scale, I imagine the site to be a cliff condition, a deep valley between two mountains. Being a crevice, the site is by nature liminal and mysterious. The mythological decor intensifies the atmosphere.
house with gallery, living quarters, secret tower, and a view.
Yale School of Architecture Building Project
The Jim Vlock Building Project, Yale School of Architecture
Year: Spring 2023
Site: 73 Howard St, New Haven, CT, USA
Critics: Adam Hopfner, Alexander Kruhly
Team: Max Coolidge, Sarah Farley, Basel Hussein, Roland Ye Thiha, Qananii Tolera, Niuniu Zhao
The client needed to accommodate two families under one roof. The “Mudroom House” project utilizes both the challenges and opportunities of co-living to create a home in which individual autonomy is prioritized and the rituals of daily living are celebrated. A simple cruciform organization allows our project to stitch individual family units together and create a shared kitchen/
dining space along the hem of a gracious, yet efficient mudroom. While this entry space is typically marginalized, in our project this room becomes the connective tissue between private and public realms. The mudroom creates visual and auditory separation between private living quarters, which become secluded and quiet spaces for each family.
