Fired by Earth and Light

Rising from the site of Yixing’s old pottery kilns, this museum embodies the tactile soul of a city shaped by clay and fire. Conceived as a sculpted topography rather than a monument, its form draws inspiration from both Shushan Mountain—beloved by the poet Su Dongpo—and the dragon kilns that have sloped across this land for six centuries. The architecture echoes these continuous gradients: its sweeping, earthen mass climbs and dips like a landscape forged by human craft and geological time.

The structure is defined by a vast, shell-like roof—[1] suspended upon four layers of interwoven timber lattice beams. This ingenious wooden framework achieves both delicacy and strength, creating a rhythmic, breathing interior that directs movement and sightline through a sequence of expanding chambers. Light spills gently through the apertures, tracing the curvature of the roof like heat diffusing through clay, transforming the interior into a living kiln of shadow and glow.

Externally, the building converses with its surroundings through texture and temperature. The façade, crafted in collaboration with Yixing artisans, is clad in ceramic panels whose glazes shift in hue under changing daylight[2] . Each tile bears subtle irregularities, celebrating the unpredictable beauty of firing. To the touch, the surface recalls the warmth and grain of hand-thrown teapots, grounding the building’s monumental form in intimacy.

Bridging the remains of disused factories with new ateliers and workshops, the design restores continuity to a once-fragmented industrial landscape. More than a vessel for display, the architecture itself becomes an act of making—a spatial firing process that fuses craftsmanship, material intelligence, and memory into one enduring form. Like the kilns that inspired it, it breathes through earth, wood, and flame.