Not content to be mere property developers, the couple behind Soho China want to change the face of homes in China
By Susan V. Lawrence/BEIJING
NESTLING IN THE HILLS north of Beijing, the Commune by the Great Wall is the sort of project that's supposed to inspire gasps. But at the unveiling back in October of the 11 architect-designed villas and a club house, the reaction of visitors to some of the buildings was closer to giggles.
Take the "Shared House" by Thailand's Kanika R'kul, described by the architect as an attempt to create "connections" and emphasize "the importance of communal spaces." Translated into concrete, that means horizontal windows set at mattress level in the adjoining walls of each bedroom. And then there are the bathrooms: Enormous and--naturally--communal, including showers, baths and toilets.
"I remember when she first showed us the floor plan. I thought, oh gosh, two bathtubs in a room. I can't imagine who would be chatting and having a bath together," recalls Zhang Xin, who is one half of the married couple that owns property developer Soho China. "But you never know. And this is typically what we want to see from the architects, something that is not the ordinary norm."
The houses are certainly not ordinary. Nor very safe: There are sheer drops from unenclosed balconies and steep, unguarded staircases. And the quality of the workmanship is uneven. But what Zhang Xin and her husband, Pan Shiyi (who handles Soho's sales and public relations), say they wanted was not just a housing development but "a demonstration of creativity." To at least some extent, that's what they got.
They also got something else: attention. The houses, which sit in a leafy valley near the Shuiguan section of the Great Wall, won Zhang a special prize at the prestigious Venice Biennale last year for her role as "an individual patron of architectural works." That put Zhang and Pan, who started Soho in 1995, on the map in international architecture circles. The houses and the prize also gave the pair new credibility as cultural arbiters at home.
Soho's bread-and-butter projects are less fanciful. But even the company's first project, Soho New Town, a residential and commercial development in downtown Beijing that was begun in 1998, broke new ground. In most Chinese developments, buyers finish the apartments themselves, including laying down floors and painting walls.
But at Soho New Town, each apartment came fully finished. Zhang and Pan bet that in a country still partial to garish chandeliers and slippery marble floors, the truly trendy among China's new rich could be drawn to decorated units that reflect her "contemporary" and "minimalist" tastes. Apartments in the development also featured lots of sliding doors, which let residents open up or close off rooms as they need.
Unusually, there is also a lot of communal space--every four floors share a 500-square-metre courtyard--and public art.
What really sets Zhang and Pan apart, however, is their ambition. They aren't content just to build and sell high-rises. They want to set the standards for style in China. To do that, they rely partly on the written word. There's a monthly magazine full of ruminations on big, abstract topics like urbanization and feminism, and stacks of beautiful books of photographs, art, and essays about the deeper meaning of Soho's projects. (A typical line: "Outstanding architecture provides a spiritual refuge as well as a material environment.")
The books are a way to "influence society," says Pan, an irrepressible man with round black glasses. "Some developers can't find all the books in bookstores, so they come to us to buy the whole set." The other way Zhang and Pan try to get their ideas across is by working hard at being socialites, staging swish parties co-sponsored by expensive foreign brands. "We sort of deliberately did that," admits Zhang, a former Wall Street investment banker. "We wanted to send out a message, which is the relationship between architecture and lifestyle."
Meanwhile, back at the Great Wall, the commune homes stand empty. Pan and Zhang say they are doing a healthy business renting them out as venues for events like parties and product launches, but there are few overnight visitors. On Tuesdays, they open the houses to the hoi polloi, mostly students.
Admission used to be free, but Pan and Zhang now ask visitors to buy a copy of a glossy coffee-table book they published about the houses at a price of 120 renminbi ($14.50). In the preface, Zhang shares her and Pan's typically immodest goal for the houses: "To influence a whole generation of architects, developers and consumers in China.
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