A Nanjing Native's View of Nanjing: The Sifang Collective Art Lake District

Travel date: February 2021

Travel mode: Self-driving

Destination: Sifang Collective Art Lake District, Nanjing

Address: No. 9 Zhenqi Road, Pukou District, Nanjing

Route: Sifang Collective Art Lake District (24 structures, including Sifang Contemporary Art Museum) – Doushuai Temple in Laoshan Forest Park

A friend suggested a Sunday outing to Laoshan Forest Park. As soon as we got in the car, I recommended the Sifang Contemporary Art Museum. I’d wanted to visit for ages, but it’s far away in Jiangbei and I’d never made it. Since we were heading to Laoshan anyway, it was the perfect chance. My friend was equally keen, so after a quick chat we decided to go to the museum first – better to tackle it first since we didn’t know how long it would take, and Laoshan Forest Park can be enjoyed at any pace. That way we’d stay flexible. We set off following the GPS. We passed through the Yangtze River Tunnel and emerged in Jiangbei. We drove into the wooded Foshou Lake Road, skirted Foshou Lake Park, and wound along mountain roads through dense, towering forest. Foshou Lake lay hidden in the valley; the forest was so thick you only caught glimpses of the water – never a full panorama.

Only when we arrived did we realize our destination went by a much larger name: the Sifang Collective Art Lake District. The lake district is one of Laoshan’s scenic treasures, almost like the forest park’s Adam’s apple on the map. Here, twenty-four master architects from around the world, each with a different cultural background, have created distinctive buildings and several villa clusters. The Sifang Contemporary Art Museum is just one of them. It just goes to show – travel is full of surprises. We came for one building and ended up exploring an entire collection of extraordinary architecture. Entry to the lake district costs 80 yuan per person. Cars can drive straight in. After ticket checks, we entered the district – and immediately on the right stood the art museum, that iconic online-famous building I’d seen in countless photos. But we didn’t stop. The open expanse at the entrance told us this place was far from small. It would be grueling on foot, so we had to drive. We followed the roads westward, taking in the views, and looped around to the southeastern corner, up on what felt like a hilltop, and parked. A jade-green lake nestled gently among the valleys. A path led to a wooden boardwalk that brought us right up to the water. Beside it stood a nameplate: Waterside Pavilion (Alberto Kalach).

We learned this was the work of Mexican architect Alberto Kalach. The building floats entirely over the water – a rectangular pitched roof, timber structure. A platform, timber frames, a roof; a ramp at the south end of the platform connects to the lakeshore.

It’s a beautiful, light-footed structure poised above the water.

Its large roof, clad in clay tiles and composed of a series of curving surfaces, resembles a great eagle skimming the water.

There are several guest rooms inside; through the glass windows you can see clean, minimalist interiors. The deep, sweeping eaves not only look striking but also provide excellent shade.

From the Waterside Pavilion, looking across at the small hill opposite, the view is exceptionally wide. The sky was brilliantly clear, the water radiant, and sharp reflections danced on the surface, lending the already colorful architecture an extra touch of life.

On the hilltop, the white, overlapping volumes of a villa area.

That cluster of multicolored buildings is the Sifang Leisure Center, designed by Italian architect Ettore Sottsass. A little further, the unusually shaped structure resembling a giant eye is the Sifang Contemporary Art Museum – the very reason we came, and now just one small element in a much bigger world.

In both color and form, the Leisure Center looks like something built from Lego bricks.

Across the lake, the staggered Sifang Yachen Hotel basks beautifully in the spring sunshine.

On the lake district’s eastern side, a villa area tucked among forest and bamboo groves.

Continuing west along the road, we looked back at that great bird.

Walking and looking, the scenery changed with each new angle.

By the lake stood a glass house, exquisitely clear, like a glass stilt house.

A wooden boardwalk hugged the water’s edge.

I snapped a photo from a bend in the boardwalk.

Through the crystal-clear water, you could see red fish swimming.

The boardwalk’s sinuous, dynamic curves across the lake were fascinating.

Coming ashore, the path changed to one paved with small stones.

We continued west along the path; the distant views gradually became near ones.

But our car was still parked up on the hill, so we went back and continued by car. The beautiful road drew graceful curves through the mountains, and from the high ridge we looked down over forests, lakes, and the design-forward buildings.

My friend parked again, giving us a commanding perch to drink in the lake district’s majesty.

The Sifang Collective Art Lake District hides deep in Laoshan’s forests. The dense woods cut off the city in the distance; the air is fresh, alive with birdsong and the scent of flowers.

The terrain here is complex, with rolling hills. The master architects used the natural landscape to set off their creations.

Architectural styles large and small, each unique, are scattered across the lush, undulating hills. They are strikingly designed, with beautiful exteriors, full of fluid lines both bold and delicate.

As the road rises and falls, every angle reveals a different kind of beauty. The entire district transcends pure contemporary art – it embodies a grand vision fusing fashion, art, and design.

On a flat patch at the top of a slope stands a simple concrete building, its surface like interesting skin textures formed by years of rain. This is Six Rooms, designed by Chinese artist Ai Weiwei. The six rooms are laid out in a row, composed of identical standardized independent units linked by corridors. They are separate yet connected, clear yet full of variation.

The plain grey building, paired with the stark, energetic leafless branches of early spring, creates a distinctive mood.

Large glass windows on one side open up the space, merging architecture with nature.

A pink peach blossom adds a splash of warmth to the calm, unadorned grey facade.

Leaving Six Rooms, a bend in the road brought us to another curving building that made us stop the car. It was Sanhe House, by architect Wang Shu.

A frontal view: Sanhe House features a large roof with elegantly upturned curves that rise and fall with the mountain contours, blending with the natural surroundings.

The dynamic, sweeping roofline hugs the terrain perfectly.

At one point, a tree grows right through the roof.

This skylight detail – where the roof opens for a tree – thoughtfully preserves the force of natural fusion.

Stepping into the courtyard, a whole new world opened up: a refined, classic courtyard naturally unveiled. The house encloses three sides, open on one side, with two rows of rooms around a small courtyard. The courtyard is like an empty room, containing two water ponds and a tree pit; the tree in the pit echoes the trees outside. Two large trees have been planted – one outside, one inside – as if to complement nature. The mirrored reflections in the pond fill the courtyard with poetic depth. Rippling water and the building reverberate together, lively and intriguing.

Windows are not just for air and light; they are the eyes of a building, framing woodland views. Scenes within scenes, a blended stance. Standing in the courtyard, no matter which way you face, there’s a different view.

It was eerily quiet, as if the three of us had tiptoed in by accident. We even lowered our voices. Touching the grey brick walls, we marveled at the elegance.

Sanhe House is beautifully positioned on the hilltop, with sweeping views. In the distance, villa clusters hug the contours. Down by the lake below, a bronze-toned building stood.

We left Sanhe House and continued. One distinctive building after another appeared. Sometimes we stopped to admire, sometimes we just glimpsed from the car.

A dark-red building has an intriguing name – Folded House, a creation of Hong Kong-based designer Liu Heng. Not sure why it’s called that; maybe the designer used reinforced concrete and limpid glass as paper to fold a dream house?

Crystal House, formed from thousands of glass panels, gleamed even more brightly in the sunlight.

Light Box, by [UK] David Adjaye.

On a flat, open lawn stood a large box made of stacked stone slabs, with big glass windows and the other walls dotted with small square openings of varying sizes.

The grey-green stone walls paired with bare branches felt weathered and full of history.

Stepping inside, through a long, narrow doorway, you see the landscape outside.

The interior was still unused, somewhat desolate.

After a bend, we descended from the hill to a tranquil, open space. In a patch of grass, we found a shady spot to set up camp. We spread out a mat, unpacked our dry provisions, and had a meal while admiring a beautiful building.

This one, designed by a Spanish architect, is called Buddha’s Hand. I couldn’t quite figure out what the name had to do with the building.

The free-form plan is defined by two boundary layers: an inner continuous transparent boundary containing delicate steel columns, and an outer boundary of vertically arranged bamboo slats, like a bamboo screen, for natural ventilation and daylight, with ever-changing light and shadow effects.

These double layers define a compact interior living space and a peripheral circulation zone. The room is wrapped in glass, so you can see through the bamboo screen to the outside. We pressed against the glass to peer inside. It looked like a large suite. And there were signs someone actually lived there. For a while, it seemed most of these beautiful houses stood empty, lifeless – so finding a lived-in feel was a little thrilling. This was no ghost town after all. We ate our provisions. My friend is a capable cook who delights in making food, bringing homemade sushi and beef – absolutely delicious. As we ate, three people emerged from the house; judging by the time, they were checking out. They’d likely spent the night here. We called out to ask the rate – wow, fifteen thousand a night...

After eating, we continued slowly driving on. We passed a bunker – a white bunker on a gentle slope near a valley, with a small hill behind and a valley stream in front. The blocky shape lives up to the name, and the curved openings in the walls even resemble bullet holes.

The lake district is long and narrow, with the terrain rising and falling along the lake. Clever architects adapted to these conditions, using their skills to perfectly handle the level changes. One building called Water Lily was also built on such elevated ground.

There are many subtle design touches. Apart from local load-bearing walls and platforms, the entire external enclosure is made of transparent and translucent glass surfaces. The surrounding lush trees reflect onto the glass, giving the whole building a faintly bluish translucence.

An embankment divides the lake into east and west halves. At the south end of the embankment, on the hilltop, the silhouette of Sanhe House stands proud, its dynamic, yet traditional sweeping roof hugging the terrain; one wall features beautiful Chinese elements.

At the north end of the embankment is a hotel, and farther into the forest, the art museum surveys it all.

The water level of the western lake is higher than the eastern one, with about a meter’s difference. On the north side of the lake stands a copper-patina-green building called Moored Boat. Bronze verdigris – such an unusual color for a building facade, rarely seen. From a distance, it resembles a lone slanting sail. That dark, subdued green ripples in the landscape, nestled among branches and foliage like a boat that has lain at anchor so long it has grown moss.

From this angle, the patinated Moored Boat and the dark-red Folded House across the lake create a striking visual contrast. Moored Boat is built right at the water’s edge, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows facing the lake. Walking indoors, you can always see the vast lake view; on clear days, mountain and water reflections shimmer on the windows, a beautiful, rippling effect. You can also step onto the lake-view deck to take in the lake directly – a heart-opening sight.

In the middle of the lake, right in front of Moored Boat, a small boat really is moored. It’s purely decorative, and it does bring the calm lake to life.

The hotel hugs the mountain and overlooks the lake; the public areas are tucked into a hollow. The lobby was just finishing renovation, not yet complete.

The guest rooms occupy the ridge, layered one above the other, each level commanding superb views.

In front of us lay the jade-green lake, and to one side the boardwalk we’d just walked. Looking down from above gives a completely different perspective from being at the water’s edge – like life itself, a shift in angle brings a shift in understanding.

The Sifang Leisure Center, seen from the side, looks like a castle in the woods. The southern slope, gentle and gradual, stretches right into the lake.

We wandered around the front and back of the building along the slope.

The castle-like Leisure Center.

Yellow, blue, modules in different colors pieced together – as playful as Lego bricks.

The frames within the building produced mirrored effects.

In the undulating lake district, there’s a flat valley.

On the high ground above the valley stands the reason we came: Steven Holl’s Sifang Contemporary Art Museum. From a distance, this hyper-modern, monumental sculpture doesn’t feel massive, but its suspended height and openness amid the hills and water give it a magnificent presence. The main body floats, as if an aerial corridor hovers over the mountains. Its huge suspended window is like a giant viewfinder. The viewing platform outside faces the whole city of Nanjing; the forest and the cityscape stretch below you.

The International Conference Center rests quietly in the natural embrace of the valley. Two slender building volumes are arranged orthogonally to the valley axis, with a central atrium and a large water feature between them to enhance the landscape effect.

The whole building is enclosed by a low-curvature arc-shaped wall, carving out a smooth, rounded curve.

The trees inside and outside the wall form new curves of their own.

The beautiful rust-red draws the lens. These metal cubes, tilting in different directions, are topped with large square-gridded glass.

An older brother dragged and tugged his little sister up the hillock. The two-child policy has reshaped society. Now you often see children playing with children, rather than parents playing with children. This scene instantly brought back childhood memories.

We climbed the hillock, took a flagstone path up, passed through a bamboo grove, and visited the last building, and the only one officially open – the very building that had drawn us here: the Sifang Contemporary Art Museum. As the highlight, I’ll write a separate piece about it.

This trip gave me so much. I thought we were just visiting an art museum – instead, we discovered an entire art lake district. It’s far from the city, a remote “deep mountain and old forest” with barely a soul in sight. It takes a bit of determination to come here, but every random snapshot looks like a cinematic blockbuster!

One after another, these wildly imaginative buildings hidden in woods and on shores kept drawing our admiration. They all have distinctive forms, poetic and playful names. The lake district is huge; besides the artists’ creations, there are villa clusters. The Sifang Collective Art Lake District is a showcase of contemporary architectural art. Standing here, you feel that “music is liquid architecture, and architecture is frozen music.” Simply looking at the architecture is an artistic treat; we also saw a painting exhibition inside the museum – truly a feast of art.