Studio Zhu-Pei Scatters a Conference Campus Across a Jingdezhen Mountain Valley in Inverted Arches

A conference center does not have to be a single building. Studio Zhu-Pei makes that case emphatically with the Zijing International Conference Camp, a 40,107 square meter complex completed in 2022 on a mountainous site west of Jingdezhen, Jiangxi. Rather than drop one massive volume into a valley that was already scarred by earthworks and deforestation, Zhu Pei fragmented the program into dozens of vaulted pavilions that follow the organic contours of the terrain. Conference halls, guest rooms, and shared amenities are distributed along ridgelines and across ravines, stitched together by walkways and shaded corridors but never gathered under a single roof.

What makes the project genuinely compelling is how it collapses the distinction between structure and enclosure. Each pavilion is formed by a single-curved inverted arch, a concrete shell that is simultaneously roof, wall, and structural span. The form recalls the double-eave profiles of traditional Chinese architecture, but stretched to a scale and material that could only belong to reinforced concrete. There is almost no conventional envelope here: the arch is the building. The result is a settlement that feels less like a campus and more like a landscape feature, something between a village and a geological formation.

A Settlement, Not a Building

The 71,544 square meter site was originally a pristine mountain valley, later flattened and filled by human activity. Studio Zhu-Pei's response was to reverse the logic of that intervention: instead of imposing a single footprint, the architects scattered individual volumes across the terrain, positioning each one in response to contour lines, ravines, and surviving tree cover. Viewed from across the valley, the white concrete shells cascade up the hillside like a collection of mineral deposits, their curved profiles softening the boundary between built form and forested slope.

The non-hierarchical layout draws explicitly from the relationship between ancient villages in the region and their landscapes. There is no grand axis, no symmetrical facade, no front door in the conventional sense. Instead, visitors move through gaps and thresholds between structures, encountering the program as a sequence of discoveries rather than a predetermined route. Zhu Pei calls this a "porous settlement," and the porosity is literal: light, air, and views of the mountains penetrate the spaces between pavilions at every turn.

The Arch as Architecture

The structural logic is both radical and simple. Each building unit is a one-way, long-span arch beam supported by reinforced concrete shear walls at both ends. The arch is inverted relative to a conventional vault: it curves downward at its midpoint and sweeps upward at the eaves, producing a silhouette that echoes the elasticity of traditional Chinese roof profiles. Because these units can be replicated, rotated, and stacked, the architects generated enormous formal variety from a single structural idea. The arches shift, overlap, and step as they climb the mountain, producing rhythmic sequences that never repeat exactly.

Board-formed concrete is left exposed throughout, with the grain of the formwork and the pattern of tie holes visible on every soffit and wall. The material honesty is deliberate: by refusing to clad the structure, the architects allow the building's construction process to remain legible. The concrete ages alongside the mountain, taking on moss and patina rather than concealing them.

Controlling Light Through Geometry

Inside, the staggered arches do more than define space; they choreograph daylight. Where two vaults overlap or step apart, clerestory windows and skylights admit controlled bands of sunlight that shift throughout the day. The refraction and diffusion patterns change with the angle of each arch, so no two interiors are lit in quite the same way. In the double-height lobby, a broad clerestory runs the length of a curved ceiling vault, flooding the floor with even, ambient light. In the multi-level circulation spaces, angular ceiling apertures focus narrower shafts of light that pick out columns and railings with almost theatrical precision.

The climate strategy is passive by design. Wide eaves provide shading and rain protection in Jiangxi's humid, subtropical conditions, while the gaps between structures maximize cross-ventilation. Adjustable curtains and operable skylights give occupants fine-grained control without relying on mechanical systems as a first resort. The approach treats architecture itself as environmental infrastructure.

Assembly and Intimacy

The program spans a wide register of scales. The assembly hall seats dozens of delegates in rows of black chairs, its timber-clad walls sliced by vertical strips of glazing that throw diagonal sunlight across the room. The material palette here shifts from raw concrete to warm wood veneer and acoustical ceiling panels, a signal that the architects calibrated each room to its function rather than imposing a single interior language. The transition from exposed concrete structure to refined timber enclosure reinforces the hierarchy between communal infrastructure and inhabited room.

Elsewhere, interior courtyards lined with timber cladding and topped by angular concrete ceiling planes create intimate, reflective pockets within the larger complex. These spaces operate as social condensers: small enough to foster conversation, open enough to the sky that they remain connected to the mountain landscape. Clerestory windows above introduce indirect light without sacrificing privacy, demonstrating how the "incomplete integrity" of each pavilion can serve both programmatic and atmospheric ends.

Threshold Spaces

Some of the most successful moments in the project are the spaces that belong neither fully to indoors nor to outdoors. Concrete canopies extend over paved courtyards, creating deep overhangs that function as shaded terraces, waiting areas, or informal gathering spots. Metal railings and open concrete platforms frame views of the landscaped grounds, while the angular ceiling apertures overhead keep these threshold zones bright and airy. The architecture produces comfort through spatial generosity rather than mechanical conditioning.

The sweeping shell roofs that overhang the glazed entrances are particularly effective. They shelter without enclosing, drawing visitors into the complex with a sense of arrival that is generous rather than monumental. Behind each canopy, the vaulted pavilions step up the planted slope, visible through glass walls that dissolve the boundary between lobby and landscape. The effect is of entering a terrain, not a building.

Why This Project Matters

The Zijing International Conference Camp demonstrates that large-scale institutional programs do not have to produce large-scale objects. By decomposing 40,000 square meters of program into a field of discrete, structurally expressive pavilions, Studio Zhu-Pei achieves something that most conference centers fail at: a building that enhances rather than overwhelms its site. The decision to make the arch both the structural and the formal unit of the project gives the campus coherence without repetition, a kit of parts that adapts to every ridge and ravine it encounters.

More broadly, the project offers a persuasive model for how contemporary Chinese architecture can engage with tradition without lapsing into pastiche. The inverted arches are legible as descendants of the double-eave roof, but they are constructed in board-formed concrete at a scale that is unmistakably modern. Zhu Pei's concept of "incomplete integrity" gives the design philosophical grounding without constraining it: each pavilion is whole in itself but gains meaning from its relationship to the others and to the mountain. That kind of relational thinking, architecture as ecology rather than monument, is exactly what dense, climate-stressed landscapes demand.

Zijing International Conference Camp, designed by Studio Zhu-Pei, Jingdezhen, Jiangxi, China. 40,107 m². Completed 2022. Photography by Shengliang Su and Qinquan Zhang.

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