Xiang Huang and SongYan Mao are Chinese architects and co-founders of Primary Architects, a China-based practice established in 2020 that works across architecture, planning, interiors, and landscape through an integrated, context-driven approach. The studio positions design as a response to site, use, and perception, engaging spatial experience, construction logic, and everyday life while resisting predefined formal language.
Grounded in the idea of a โprimaryโ condition โ a return to the origins of architecture โ their work explores material presence, local context, and lived experience, as seen in projects such as The Carpenterโs House in Haotang Village, Henan, and the Driftwood Village Center. The practice has received international recognition, was selected for exhibition at the 2026 UIA World Congress of Architects in Barcelona, and has been featured across platforms including Architecture Lab and ArchDaily, advocating for site-specific architecture informed by climate, material intelligence, and local construction traditions.
What inspires you?
Itโs hard to pinpoint any specific source of inspiration for us. Rather than abstract theories or avant-garde imagery, we focus much more on everyday life. What truly motivates us is a sense of curiosityโa desire to understand how people live, how architecture engages with its site, and how it can reshape that relationship. Many of our ideas actually emerge from very ordinary moments. Our drive comes from seeking to uncover the primary state that embodies the very essence of architecture.
What inspired you to become a designer?
Xiang Huang
To me, becoming a designer has been a gradual process, nourished both by observations of the real world and by inner reflection. If I had to pinpoint a defining moment, it would be when I read Ayn Randโs The Fountainhead. The life choices made by the architect Howard Roark led me to question the idea that โthe world is simply as it should be.โ Many spaces, orders, and ways of building that we take for granted are, in fact, only fixed by habit and convention. The work of a designer is to return to the primary state of things, to rethink from the beginning, and to pursue this practice consistently throughout a lifetime.
SongYan Mao
On the eve of the 2008 Beijing Olympics, the entire city felt like a massive construction site in full motion. Architects from around the world brought some of the most experimental ideas, turning Beijing into a testing ground for architecture. Interestingly, there was a window in my high school classroom that directly faced the construction site of the National Centre for the Performing Arts. Through that window, I witnessed the entire process โ from what initially felt like an almost impossible idea to its realization as a built form. That experience was deeply striking. It was the moment I realized that architecture could transform an ambitious vision into reality. From then on, architectural design became a lifelong pursuit โ a way for me to express myself and engage with the world.
How would you describe your design philosophy?
As the name of our practice โ Primary Architects โ suggests, we are interested in returning to a more primary condition โ to reconsider the essence of architecture. This idea is, in some way, close to a phenomenological perspective. As Maurice Merleau-Ponty suggests, we do not experience the world as detached observers, but through our bodies โ through movement, orientation, and perception โ continuously constructing our understanding of space.
From this standpoint, we do not begin with a predefined style. Instead, we try to identify the inherent structure within each site and respond to it in a precise and appropriate way. In practice, we often start from bodily experience โ how people move through space, where they pause, how they orient themselves, and how these actions gradually give rise to a certain atmosphere.
In this sense, โprimaryโ does not mean returning to a primitive form, but returning to the fundamental conditions of perception โ where space is no longer an abstract object, but an experience that continuously emerges through the interaction between the body and its environment.
What is your favorite project?
Our โfavorite projectโ is never fixed; it evolves as our design practice unfolds. Experience accumulated from each project is carried forward and transformed in subsequent ones. However, a recently completed project is particularly meaningful to us, as it encapsulates our design philosophy in a concentrated way. It is called The Carpenterโs House.
Located in Haotang Village, Henan Province, the project is set within the courtyard of an elderly carpenter. The site has long been a place where daily life and craftsmanship intertwine. Instead of imposing a complete, self-contained form, our design works gently with the existing conditions, allowing the workshop to โgrowโ naturally out of the rhythm of everyday life.
The building employs a steel-wood hybrid structure. This choice responds not only to structural needs but also continues and innovates upon the carpenterโs lifelong material practice. Nestled against the mountainside, the roof gently follows the terrain down into the courtyard. Skylights are inserted between curved wooden beams, bringing light and nature into the interior.
In terms of spatial organization, The Carpenterโs House avoids rigid functional zoning. Instead, it weaves together work, exhibition, and daily life through a sequence of spaces with gradually shifting scales. We prefer to understand it as a composite space with blurred boundariesโcarpentry work, material storage, tool maintenance, and human interaction are not strictly separated, but unfold naturally within a continuous spatial flow.
Our design departs from form and centers on the observation of carpentry processes and craft teaching, and how these activities gradually cultivate an atmosphere over time. These seemingly subtle patterns of use form the very foundation of spatial organization. Space exists not merely for viewing, but for living and working. It records the process of craftsmanship, accommodates the trivialities of daily life, and becomes a spatial narrative shared by people, tools, materials, and time.
What is your favorite detail?
For us, a detail becomes meaningful only when it relates to how the body perceives space. In Carpenterโs House, there is a moment we particularly care about โ the way light enters the interior through a skylight set between the curved timber beams.
The opening is embedded within the structure, allowing light to enter the space in a slow and continuous manner throughout the day. In the morning, the light comes in at an angle, sliding along the beams; at noon, it falls more directly onto the worktable; and in the afternoon, it stretches further into the space, reaching the stacked materials.
At different times, light touches different parts of the space, corresponding to different patterns of use. Through this, people can sense the changing angle of light and become aware of the passage of time. What we find interesting about this detail is that it needs time to be perceived โ it only reveals itself gradually through change.
Do you have a favorite material?
Material selection should serve the architectural expression, rather than become the expression itself. We are more interested in materials that can register traces โ materials that respond to touch, that gradually change through use, and that reveal their character over time.
For example, materials that are not overly finished tend to record the process of making and use: edges become worn, and surfaces develop subtle variations in sheen through repeated contact and handling. These changes are not imperfections, but direct evidence of use. Materials like this allow architecture to move beyond a purely visual object, becoming something that can be experienced through the body โ while also making the passage of time perceptible.
What is your process for starting a new project?
I usually begin a project by constructing a narrative. For me, this narrative is not an abstract story, but something grounded in reality โ it comes from understanding how a site is used, how people move, and what kind of spatial conditions already exist. The narrative acts as a way of entering the project.
It provides a specific perspective through which I can organize relationships between space, use, and experience, rather than starting from a predefined form or concept. From there, the design unfolds gradually.
The narrative itself is not fixed โ it is continuously adjusted as the project develops, and moments of chance or unexpected conditions often emerge along the way. So for me, starting a project is about finding the right narrative โ one that can accommodate the complexity of reality and gradually unfold through the design process.
How do you fuel your creativity?
For us, creativity comes from maintaining a continuous sensitivity to everyday situations โ trying not to let that sensitivity become dull over time. At the same time, we consciously keep a certain distance from dominant information and established viewpoints.
This is not about rejecting them, but about avoiding being too quickly absorbed into a predefined way of seeing. This sense of distance allows us to observe more carefully, and to notice subtle conditions that might otherwise be overlooked.
We also draw inspiration from fields beyond architecture โ such as sculpture, installations, and even literature. These experiences influence our understanding of space in an indirect way. In that sense, creativity is not about producing something new, but about seeing more clearly โ and maintaining a perspective that is slightly outside the obvious.
What inspired the Driftwood Village Center?
The inspiration for the Driftwood Village Center did not come from a predefined concept, but from the specific conditions of the site. The project is located along a reservoir, where everyday life is closely tied to agricultural rhythms and the fluctuation of water levels.
What interested us was not how to introduce a new form, but how to work within an existing system โ including the embankment path, the surrounding farmland, and the ways people move and dwell along the waterโs edge. The embankment became a key reference. Rather than treating it as a boundary, we extended its spatial logic into the building, allowing it to become a natural continuation of this linear movement in both circulation and form.
At the same time, the changing water level introduced a temporal dimension. The building does not resist these conditions, but gradually adapts to them through use, remaining open to change. In this sense, the project is not driven by a single concept, but formed through an ongoing process of understanding the site โ a way of recognizing how landscape, infrastructure, and everyday life interact.
How did materiality shape the Driftwood Village Center?
The material expression of the Driftwood Village Center is primarily developed through a glued laminated timber structure, with steel components used for connections. Here, material and structure are unified: the timber framework establishes the main structural rhythm and spatial continuity, while the steel elements articulate the construction logic with precision, making the connections clearly legible. The structure is not concealed, and the materials are not treated as decoration.
The space unfolds through a series of curved timber beams, whose curvature and rhythm guide movement and shape a continuous internal circulation. As people move through the building, they remain constantly aware of the presence of the structure. The scale, texture, and subtle irregularities of the wood bring the space closer to the human body in perception. The outdoor platform is finished with terrazzo, forming a smooth and solid base that contrasts with the lightness of the timber structure above.
In this project, therefore, materials are not an added layer of expression applied afterward. Instead, they are fundamental from the outset, determining how the building is constructed, how it is perceived, and how it continues to perform in use over time.
What advice would you give to young architects?
We would suggest that young architects learn to observe and experience everyday life, and to maintain a continuous sensitivity. There is no need to rush to define a style or to prove something too quickly. What matters more is to keep practicing and to gradually develop your own judgement through the process.
At the same time, it is important to trust your inner voice and not treat external evaluation as the only measure of value. A strong belief in your own convictions is essential โ what truly matters is not to conform, but to express yourself with clarity and courage.
