Xiamutang Workshop: A Lesson in Climate, Construction, and Community

Context

In 2019, I participated in a semester-long International Construction Workshop in Xiamutang, a collaborative design-build effort between the CBC Architecture Institute (based in China), the School of Architecture at Tianjin University, and the Oslo School of Architecture and Design (AHO). Our brief was ambitious: to design and physically build a community restaurant and kitchen with a dining area spanning roughly 100 square meters in a rural village in southwest China. The project was divided into two distinct phases: a design phase conducted at our respective university campuses, and a one-month realization phase directly on site.

The Design Phase and Environmental Realities

During the design phase, our mixed team of Chinese, Norwegian, and exchange students faced typical collaborative hurdles, compounded by a language barrier. As the design evolved through voting rounds, the Chinese majority naturally found it easier to communicate in their native language, and my role in the core aesthetic design steadily shrank.

However, my primary concern was not just about procedural authorship, but about engineering and environmental context. Southwest China lies in a subtropical-to-tropical zone, characterized by heavy rains, high humidity, and permanently damp soil. The group's winning design relied on traditional strip foundations and lacked proper waterproofing—a decision I strongly advised against. Anticipating the topographical and climatic challenges, I advocated for using screw piles to elevate the structure. This approach would minimize direct contact with the wet ground and create a gap to allow natural ventilation of the humid air beneath the floor.

Driven by these structural concerns—and admittedly out of a need to express my own architectural thinking—my classmate Boramy Sina and I developed a complete alternative proposal from scratch that incorporated these climate-responsive principles. While our design was well-received by the Chinese side, AHO declined it on procedural grounds because it hadn't emerged from the official group voting process. It was a fair call procedurally, even if frustrating at the time.

The Construction Phase

When the entire team—including the Norwegian students who flew in—relocated to Xiamutang for the construction phase, reality quickly set in. We worked tirelessly, from dawn until dusk every day for a month.

Almost immediately, the project suffered a major setback: a sudden, severe downpour completely washed out the nearly finished excavation work. While stressful, the washout was a harsh validation of my earlier warnings regarding the local climate and foundation choices. From that point on, my civil engineering background became my real contribution. I focused on setting out, supervising joint details, and problem-solving on the spot to ensure the structure would endure the environment despite the initial compromises in its foundation design. The work taught me more about wood, weather, and improvisation than any classroom ever could.

The Reward

Despite the grueling schedule and technical challenges, the most profound part of the Xiamutang experience was its conclusion. By the time of the grand opening, only a handful of us students remained on site. To celebrate the completion, we organized a pancake-cooking class for the local Chinese children in our newly built kitchen.

Watching the kids explore the space with pure curiosity and excitement was deeply moving. Seeing the architecture come alive through its users, and experiencing the joy and utility it brought to the local community, felt like the ultimate reward for the sweat and frustration of the previous months.

Reflection

It would be easy to reflect on Xiamutang purely through the lens of whose name is on the final drawings. But architecture is more than just authorship. What I truly take away from this semester is a deep respect for the unforgiving nature of climate and materials, the value of my civil engineering roots on a chaotic construction site, and the beautiful realization that a building's true worth is ultimately defined by the people who use it.