My interest in architecture started very early, probably from the house where I grew up in Fujian. It was a large traditional compound with many courtyards and corridors, inhabited by an extended family of more than a hundred people. The spatial richness of that environment left a deep impression on me and made me aware of how architecture shapes everyday life.

Later, as China rapidly transformed during the 1980s and 1990s, I witnessed the shift from traditional settlements to modern urban development. Many rural areas were left behind as people moved to the cities.

This experience made me realize that architecture could play an important role in addressing social and territorial change. So architecture was not only a professional choice, but also a way to engage with the profound transformations happening in society and the built environment – a form of social activism.

The first step is always a careful reading of the context. We try to understand the different layers of a place: its ecosystem, geology, water systems, local production, cultural heritage, livelihoods, and history. These tangible and intangible resources often reveal opportunities that are not immediately visible.

Before designing a new building, we ask what the real problem is and whether a new construction is actually necessary.

Often, the most meaningful approach is to reuse what already exists or to intervene in the most minimal way possible. We work in close collaboration with the client and the local community, and the process is never about imposing a form or architectural vision, but about uncovering a response that grows from the site and its conditions.

It is difficult to point to a single building. I am often more inspired by what is sometimes called “architecture without architects” – the vast body of vernacular architecture created collectively over time. Chinese traditional compounds, indigenous Australian structures, Karakalpak yurts…Many traditional settlements and building types around the world embody deep knowledge of climate, materials, and social life. They are often overlooked or underestimated because their authors are anonymous. What interests me in these environments is the way architecture grows naturally from local conditions, the landscape, available materials, and the patterns of daily life. 

The Fujian tulou, for example, were designed for a very particular functionality,  as defensive structures for collective living, capable of accommodating an entire clan within a single enclosed form. This integration of social organization, security, and spatial design is something I find very powerful.

In Chinese thought, there is the idea of Wanwu – the “myriad of beings”, which describes a world where all living and non-living things are interconnected. This perspective shifts architecture away from being purely human-centered toward engaging with a broader ecological system. At DnA, our approach shifts away from anthropocentrism, embracing the interconnectedness of all things: humans, other living beings, materials, spaces, and intangible cultural and ecological systems. In this view, everything becomes architecture, and architecture becomes a way of thinking about the world as an integrated whole.

The guiding principle in our work is rooted in Wanwu — the interconnectedness of all things. We see architecture as part of a dynamic, circular system, where every intervention belongs to a larger ecological, social, and cultural network. Design, for us, is always about necessity: responding to real conditions and activating hidden potential.

This is why we use the concept of Architectural Acupuncture. Inspired by traditional Chinese medicine, acupuncture involves precise, small interventions that restore energy and promote healing. Similarly, our interventions are targeted at revitalizing underutilized spaces, supporting local economies, preserving heritage, and reinforcing community identity.

In Chinese, there are two terms: 雪中送炭 vs. 锦上添花 – providing charcoal instead of adding embroidery (offering help in times of need instead of adding flowers to brocade). It captures our approach perfectly: design should meet essential needs and respect the circularity of ecosystems, rather than being decorative or superficial.

Many contemporary buildings are driven by image and scale rather than by their relationship with place and society. Architecture risks becoming detached from local resources, local culture, and real community needs. What is often missing is sensitivity to context.

Architecture should not only produce new forms, but also strengthen the identity and vitality of the places. An important question to ask each time when working on a new project is whether we should really build a new building.