Prefabricated Plugin units are installed directly onto existing floors without altering the original structures. Lightweight, insulated, and self-contained, these units offer year-round comfort while maintaining the spatial logic and material integrity of the buildings. Timber frames, brick walls, and tiled roofs remain untouched.
At Courtyard C34, three artists share a triangular site comprising two porcelain workshops and two small dwellings. One structure becomes a communal kitchen, while the others house individual Plugin configurations combining sleeping, working, and bathroom spaces. Sloped roofs and integrated HVAC systems respond to daylight and climate conditions. In Courtyard H20, a single artist inhabits a studio fitted with a mezzanine bedroom, flexible workspace, and openable façades that reconnect interior and courtyard. Courtyard P58 accommodates three artist studios within a long workshop, each with a ground-floor office and a sleeping loft above. A neighboring building is reimagined as a public gallery and gathering space, with a zig-zag layout that balances openness and privacy. At Yanghua Lane, a newly built café anchors a courtyard framed by three historic studios and an L-shaped residence. Multiple Plugin units support group residencies and collaborative use, forming a micro-community embedded within the historic district.

Across all four sites, the Plugin system adapts to diverse spatial conditions while maintaining a coherent architectural language. Its prefabricated modular panel system allows for variation in size, material, and detailing, accommodating irregular geometries and evolving programmatic needs. The result is a family of interventions that are distinct yet cohesive, responsive to their contexts while clearly part of a unified strategy.

While earlier work in the district introduced a civic landmark and public gathering space, this phase extends the transformation into the neighborhood’s interiors, activating underused spaces and stitching new life into the rhythms of daily activity. By working within the architectural grain of Jingdezhen’s porcelain heritage, Porcelain Studios Plugin Revival offers a replicable and respectful model for architectural reuse, one that fosters continuity between making, living, and memory.

Text provided by the architects.

The owner envisioned developing a campsite here, using terraced steps to set up several groups of tents.To serve the campsite, fixed facilities were needed on the platform. However, due to construction restrictions, the early randomly erected sheds had already defined the outline of the new buildings.

For architects eager to freely sketch blueprints, this was initially disheartening. Yet, upon closer examination of these sheds, it became clear that the workers were experts in mountain living. They knew where the foundation was stable, where more sunlight could be welcomed, and where one could hide from the howling mountain winds. Furthermore, they deeply valued the chestnut trees on the platform, skillfully weaving the sheds in and out of the trees.

Inspired by this, we reimagined the site.The sight of the ground covered in chestnut husks during autumn was particularly striking – a rare, abundant expression of the Yanshan region. Thus, we named the new structure “Full Chestnut Terrace.” In ancient China, “terrace” was a vaguely defined architectural concept. It could be a place for people to view scenery or a way for them to engage with it. We sought to re-establish the connection between people and the landscape amidst the remnants of the original sheds.

In some respects, the construction of these sheds was quite arbitrary. For instance, the roof was constructed to align with the prevailing direction of rain and snow, opting for the slope that allowed the most efficient drainage. As for the materials, a simple and practical approach was adopted. Leftovers of other projects were used to assemble the façade. However, these expedients resulted in an unexpected lightness and simplicity, forging a sense of freedom in this mountain architecture. There was much to learn here. Thus, we prefer to call the entire process a “reconstruction.”

The western side of the building, before and after the “reconstruction,” where the west wall is a remnant of the Ming Dynasty barrier wall, now detached from the original site

Due to the constraints posed by the mountainous terrain, the entire complex was built with wood, combining the use of timber frames and wooden shear walls within relatively compact building size.

In the timber-framed sections, we deliberately avoided traditional wooden structural forms. For example, the plan used an even number of bays, the façades were asymmetrical, and for the overhanging eaves, we abandoned wooden structures in favor of lighter and more authentic steel construction.

The wooden shear walls were designed to showcase the logic of “envelopment,” endowing the building with a corresponding sense of weight. The upper roofing was refashioned with corrugated metal sheets, reshaping the building’s exterior. The details echo the form language of the original sheds, making this envelopment more in line with the material’s constructional context. We envisaged “Full Chestnut Terrace” as a contemporary wooden structure, with modern technological features as its underlying theme.

When the site was still occupied by sheds, workers would pick up yellow stones from old piles to construct threshold walls and foundations for houses. During the reconstruction, we used old red bricks salvaged from nearby villages and towns to unify the disconnected building units at the ground level. Various slanted walls redressed the building’s outline, stretching between the plateau and the woods, creating a man-made layer distinct from the wooden houses. This bestowed a certain commemorative quality, forming a “relic” of this era.

Over a thousand years ago, the painter Fan Kuan contemplated the wintry mountains and rivers of the North and created “Snowy Cold Forest Landscape.” A millennium later, a similar scene emerged in a valley of the Yanshan Mountains. Rather than deliberate design, this owes more to the original shed builders who found the perfect composition for the architecture.

Artistic conception is a description of the imagination and a habit of viewing that condenses countless experiences. We hoped to bring new forms to the architecture while integrating it with the land in a familiar way. I am particularly fond of the Qing Dynasty painter Li Shizhuo’s “Viewing the Painting.” In the painting, scholars raise their cups, trying to drink with the figure in the painting. The artist arranged the two figures, originally on the same plane, along an upward sloping axis, creating a slight upward gaze. I find this an ingenious way to view scenery. In the spaces of Full Chestnut Terrace, we have embedded many such relationships.

In fact, before Li Shizhuo was born, the poet Nalan Xingde had already been observing the scenery around him. Interestingly, he likely visited the Huanghuacheng area around 1680, his duty being to herd horses for the imperial court. It’s conceivable that he visited the valley below Full Chestnut Terrace, and the chestnut forests on the hillside he saw were probably more lush than what we see today. It was in that year, on an early winter dawn, that he wrote the famous “Dian Jiang Chun · Early View from Huanghuacheng”:

In the wee hours after the first snow,
The snowfall levels with the guardrail in the dawning light.
How boundless is the western wind,
I rise and don my robe to behold the sight.
In this vast expanse,
Unwittingly, I let out a deep, prolonged sigh.
When will dawn come,
As the morning stars are about to fade,
Geese take flight over the expanse of white on high.

I too have waited for dawn atop Full Chestnut Terrace, yet never witnessed geese flying up from distant sandbanks. Sometimes I wonder, how would the twenty-six-year-old poet have reacted if, on that clear morning, he had chanced upon this house among the mountain paths…

Text provided by the architect.