Ma Guoxin engraves seals.
82-year-old Ma Guoxin recreates the same pose from a photograph taken when he was 40, during his internship at Tange Associates.
In 1977, Ma Guoxin stood in front of the Chairman Mao Memorial Hall.
The trial plan for Chairman Mao Memorial Hall by Ma Guoxin.
Supplied by the 20th Century Architectural Heritage Committee of the China Cultural Relics Society, images of Chairman Mao Memorial Hall, the National Olympic Sports Center, Beijing Capital International Airport Terminal 2, and the Chinese People's Anti-Japanese War Memorial Sculpture Garden; In 1994, he was awarded the title of "National Master of Engineering Survey and Design," and in 1997, he was elected as an academician of the Chinese Academy of Engineering. With this well-known identity of an architect, Ma Guoxin's report card shines brightly.
However, few people know that Ma Guoxin also has another "hidden identity" - a diligent "writer." At the age of 82, he has written millions of words to date and published 36 books.
On this report card, there are not only professional architectural books such as "Kenzo Tange," "Drafts on Japanese Architecture," "Drafts on Sports Architecture: From Asian Games to Olympic Games," "Drafts on Architectural Exploration," and "Drafts on Urban Environment," but also photography collections like "Silhouettes of Tsinghua Scholars" and poetry collections like "Postscript to Learning" and "Sequel to Learning." There are also reminiscences of past acquaintances in books like "Unforgettable Tsinghua," "Notes on Japan," "Notes on Lishui Road," and "No. 62 Nanlishi Road - Half a Century of Establishing the Institute."
Recently, the "Ma Guoxin: Architectural Culture Book Exhibition of Design Career" organized by the 20th Century Architectural Heritage Committee of the China Cultural Relics Society was held at Tianjin University. Even old friends who visited, for the first time, had a direct sense of his rich writings. What's even more astonishing is that Ma Guoxin entered his "burst period" of writing only after stepping back from the front lines at the age of 60.
After viewing the exhibition, one of Ma Guoxin's old friends was quite emotional. She said she had just retired, and her 90-year-old father passed away recently. She felt very pessimistic, not knowing what else she could do, but now she feels she can do a lot more because "60 is not the end, but the beginning."
No. 62 Nanlishi Road, the Beijing Institute of Architectural Design and Research (hereinafter referred to as the Beijing Institute), was the starting point of Ma Guoxin's architectural design career. Anyone who walked into Ma Guoxin's office for the first time, even if they had heard that "Academician Ma's office is like a warehouse," couldn't help but be stunned by the scene before them - files, books, and cards piled up on the desk like small mountains, bookshelves on three sides packed to the brim, sofas and floors filled with books as far as the eye could see.
Of course, it is precisely because of being immersed in it that one realizes that this is the support behind those millions of words and 36 books. Despite the chaos, Ma Guoxin can always quickly retrieve from this "repository" the notebooks recording major events since the 1960s, letters from architectural predecessors half a century ago, and photos taken during his study tour in Japan more than 40 years ago.
Listening to Ma Guoxin telling stories, one would find that this elderly man who has witnessed history is very young and full of vitality, with a relaxed demeanor that young people envy the most.
He is humorous and interesting, loves to laugh and tell jokes, occasionally throwing out folk sayings or anecdotes that make people laugh.
He has a wide range of interests and tries his hand at seal carving, photography, writing doggerel poetry, and playing the saxophone. He does not pursue professionalism in his hobbies. He says, "Have a gaming mentality, withdraw if there's no play."
He is genuine and honest. His books not only record the stories behind his landmark architectural designs but also mention many unsuccessful projects. He mentioned the outstanding design for the Asian Games main venue being "cut off" and felt extremely unfair, even wanting to "slam the table"; he also mentioned that the main venue for the 2008 Olympics was not given to the Chinese, which still weighs heavily on his mind.
Speaking of writing and publishing books, Ma Guoxin laughs heartily: "Not many people read them, I know, I check the sales on book websites. So I am especially grateful to Jin Lei, the editor-in-chief of 'Chinese Architectural Cultural Heritage,' and Han Zhenping, the former vice president of Tianjin University Press, for helping me publish books for many years. My books don't make money."
But the sales volume does not affect Ma Guoxin's enthusiasm for writing books. Recently, Ma Guoxin has been working hard to organize his correspondence and photos with many first and second-generation Chinese architects. Even at one or two in the morning, he heads to his study whenever he thinks of something.
"A person's lifespan can be understood in three ways: first, natural lifespan; second, living in the memories of others; third, living in books," Ma Guoxin said. "Books outlast people. This sentence from Fei Zhengqing's letter to Zhao Jiabi in 'China Science News' has inspired me, and I will continue to write. If my books can inspire readers a little bit, I will be satisfied."
Books outlast people
"China Science News": You published 36 books in 35 years, most of which were written after the age of 60. Why did you start writing books after turning 60?
Ma Guoxin: First of all, it needs to be clarified that 36 books include books I participated in editing, and I actually wrote 29 of them. Speaking generally may lead to misunderstandings.
The American scholar Fei Zhengqing said in a letter to the famous Chinese editor Zhao Jiabi that books outlast people. I think this makes sense. When a person dies, what ultimately remains in this world are his works and thoughts. So now I write books myself, and I often encourage others to write books too. Even if we can't achieve great deeds, at least it counts as a family's words. This is one reason.
Secondly, President Jiang Nanxiang of Tsinghua University said that when we are young, we continuously cultivate, and after the age of 60, it's time to reap. My teacher, the architect Wu Liangyong, has also said the same thing. Most of our achievements come after the age of 60. Over the past few decades, I have designed many projects, recorded a lot of text and images, and accumulated some experience. It's time to sit down and summarize.
Thirdly, architectural design is a collective creation. After the age of 60, more work opportunities should be given to younger comrades to show their abilities and take the lead. Of course, I have a bit of selfishness; I want to leave something that belongs to me alone. The final result of architectural design may be attributed to the leader, but I'm not comfortable taking credit for everyone's achievements. Writing books is different; it's an individual act, and the copyright belongs to oneself, so I write with enthusiasm. "China Science News": From your memoir, it's evident that you have a deep love for books. Not only do you write books, but you also love reading them and even transcribing them. You even transcribed knitting patterns and recipes for your wife.
Ma Guoxin: A good memory is not as reliable as a written record, and I believe in that maxim. When I was studying at Tsinghua University, I didn't have a specific goal when reading in the department library. If I found something interesting, I would transcribe it into a small notebook. I remember transcribing a whole book just on the various shapes of small cars.
After graduating and being assigned to the Beijing Institute during the "Cultural Revolution" in January 1967, I was arranged to patrol and be on duty in the evenings at the institute, with daytime for rest and no formal design tasks. But I still needed something to do, so I bought many single-volume editions of Lu Xun's works, which were very cheap but lacked annotations. The annotations were only available in the "Complete Works of Lu Xun." So I borrowed the "Complete Works of Lu Xun" and transcribed the annotations onto the single-volume editions, with very small characters, which took a lot of time.
I hand-copied a book of the "Four Books," transcribing the texts and annotations of "Analects," "Mencius," "The Great Learning," and "The Doctrine of the Mean" in small characters. At that time, I was worried that such good books might never be seen again, so I wanted to hand-copy a version to keep.
I also hand-drew a thick book of traditional Chinese window lattice and floral patterns, including ice crack patterns, square victory patterns, step-by-step brocade, myriad-character patterns, tortoise shell brocade, as well as diagonal lattices, straight lattices, three intersections, six bowls, and diamond flowers in door and window grilles.
After getting married, a colleague brought me a book called "Complete Collection of Knitting Patterns with Knitting Needles" published in Hong Kong. It introduced various knitting patterns and crochet techniques with detailed illustrations. I traced all the patterns and knitting techniques onto transparent paper and compiled them into a large book. Additionally, I transcribed many recipes and folk remedies as a way to pass the time.
In 1981, I was sent to Japan for training. There were all sorts of books in Japan, and every time I went to the library on my day off, I would spend from 10 in the morning until past 4 in the afternoon reading. Over the course of two years, I made over a hundred thousand words of reading notes, and each time was fruitful. At that time, I also saw an unmanned book corridor in the underground passage of Shinbashi Station, displaying mostly second-hand pocket-sized books. I bought a batch of books here, including Inoue Kiyoshi's "History of Japan," Ienaga Saburo's "History of Japanese Culture," and Shibata Tokuo's "Review of the World's Cities." These books played a significant role when I later returned to China to write my doctoral dissertation.
"China Science News": You were involved in the design of the Chairman Mao Memorial Hall. In your book "Memories of Nanlishi Road - My Design Career," it's noted that you kept detailed diaries during that time. Could you share some insights into this special experience?
Ma Guoxin: At that time, the Chairman Mao Memorial Hall was a confidential project. We moved to the construction site on November 16, 1976, and I started using a confidential notebook from the 17th onwards, which was eventually submitted. The book records my work and observations from September 9 to November 16, 1976, as a grassroots designer.
On September 9, 1976, I was working at the Qianmen construction site when I heard the news of Chairman Mao's passing. On the evening of the 10th, I was summoned back to the Beijing Institute to participate in the preliminary preparation and trial construction of the project. On the 14th, designers from various provinces gathered at the Qianmen Hotel, and the formal design work for the memorial hall began.
Many renowned architects participated in the design that year, including Yang Tingbao, Chen Zhi, Hong Qing, Dai Nianci, Wu Liangyong, and others, many of whom were senior figures in the architectural field whom I met for the first time. According to statistics, nearly 600 designs were made before and after the memorial hall. Various sites were considered, including Fragrant Hills, Yuyuantan, and Tiananmen Square, before settling on a location south of the Monument to the People's Heroes in Tiananmen Square. The overall design required the building to be sturdy, solemn, and elegant, with a distinct Chinese style, convenient for the public to visit, and conducive to the preservation of the remains. The entire design process went through six stages and was finalized after extensive discussions and comparisons.
I was mainly responsible for drawing basic drawings such as plans and sections. After the drawings were completed, we moved to the site to assist with construction.
The design and construction of the memorial hall brought together the efforts of people from across the country, leaving unforgettable memories of our hard work day and night. Thirty-five years later, the memorial hall underwent landscaping renovations in preparation for the 120th anniversary of Chairman Mao's birth, and I was invited to attend a meeting and revisit the site, which was a poignant experience.
"China Science News": Have you always had the habit of keeping a diary? When do you record your entries?
Ma Guoxin: After breakfast each day, I review the events of the previous day and record them. Not only do I keep a diary, but I also create a timeline of major events. At the end of each year, based on my diary entries, I list important events by month on one or two pages, including significant meetings I attended and projects I worked on. This habit has been ongoing since I started working in 1966.
"China Science News": In 1990, the National Olympic Sports Center, which you led the design for, received praise from the then-national leader who said, "Even the moon in China is round. Maybe it could be a bit rounder." Can you talk about this project?
Ma Guoxin: When I returned from Japan in 1983, I received news that China had successfully bid for the 1990 Asian Games. Consequently, I was tasked with some preliminary preparations. From 1983 to 1990, I dedicated eight years to the Asian Games.
Initially, the main issue was whether to build a new main stadium and where to build it, mainly due to financial constraints. Eventually, it was decided to utilize the existing Workers' Stadium as the main venue, with a newly constructed North Suburb Sports Center accommodating a stadium for 20,000 people. Later, the design proposals, including the Asian Games Village, underwent repeated submissions and discussions for the same financial reasons. After conducting a series of feasibility studies and preparations, the Asian Games Engineering Design Leadership Group of the Beijing Institute was formally established in February 1986, with me in charge of the overall design.
Overall, there were breakthroughs. We adopted a layout with a crescent-shaped water feature surrounding the center, which experts considered to be "innovative and It's worth mentioning the environmental design aspect, including landscaping, architectural aesthetics, and accessibility considerations. During my overseas study, I gathered a wealth of information with the conscious intention to create environments that reflect the era, possess character, and stand out. The sculptural creations for the Asian Games became significant milestones in Beijing's urban art history.
Regrettably, due to financial constraints at the time, the initial concept of "supporting pavilions with pavilions" couldn't be realized.
From Idealism to Realism
In terms of my projects with significant visibility, my first endeavor wasn't the bicycle shed and public restroom but rather a highway. The emphasis on practical experience is paramount in Tsinghua's curriculum. In 1964, during the construction boom in Sichuan's mountainous regions, I started designing highways from scratch. It was a learn-as-you-go process, gathering information bit by bit until I independently completed the design task.
The first project involved surveying and mapping, which had no direct relevance to my academic studies. This underscores the fact that university education lays the foundation, but real-world challenges demand continuous learning and adaptation.
Upon joining the Beijing Institute in 1966, due to the unique circumstances, it took three years before I took on my first project, designing bicycle sheds and public restrooms for the People's Daily dormitories. It was a modest 87-square-meter space with separate facilities for men and women, and I poured all my efforts into it.
Only by excelling in every small task assigned by superiors could I gain the trust of supervisors, colleagues, and clients, thus fostering a cohesive team dynamic. This paved the way for tackling more challenging and larger-scale projects in the future, which is a valuable lesson I've learned.
Of the numerous designs I've worked on, I don't particularly favor any. Architecture is an art of regrets. The journey of an architect is one of transitioning from idealism to realism. In each design process, architects must first dream and brainstorm to create something unique. However, as the project progresses, practical considerations such as national conditions, economic viability, urban context, and client requirements must be addressed. Sometimes it's frustrating, but these realities contribute to one's experience.
For instance, the design of the Olympic Sports Center faced tight budget constraints, leading to strict controls on venue construction scale, architectural standards, and material usage. As the project progressed, some envisioned features had to be abandoned due to financial constraints, which was disheartening. However, the overall commander reassured me, saying, "The design has already achieved 70-80%, which should be satisfactory."
"Consensus Isn't Always Necessary"
You've authored numerous architectural critiques. Why include some dissenting opinions on designs like the Bird's Nest and the National Grand Theater?
It's a responsible approach to document historical perspectives. I still feel regretful about the design of the main Olympic venue in 2008—it wasn't independently designed by Chinese architects. The designer of the Bird's Nest was a Pritzker Prize laureate, but I believe recognition shouldn't solely hinge on fame; the quality of work matters most.
Additionally, the construction of Olympic venues presented an excellent opportunity for the architectural and construction industries to showcase and elevate their standards. Hosting the Olympics is an opportunity for the host country to demonstrate its architectural prowess. However, we missed this chance. Chinese architects had proposed unique ideas at the time, and we certainly had the capability. In contrast, all designs and constructions for the 2022 Winter Olympics were done by Chinese, and they turned out quite well.
Regarding the review of the National Grand Theater's design proposals, I had differing opinions, which I expressed in a written report. For a feasibility study of CCTV's new site, seven architecture experts were consulted, six agreed, and I dissented, drafting a report. I told them during the presentation, "Don't just say you all agree."
But despite these dissenting voices, the projects were still implemented. How do you view this?
Expressing one's opinion, even if it's a minority view, is important. These were major projects with significant implications. At that time, as society was undergoing a transition, there was confusion in the architectural community regarding values. Some designs didn't adhere to the basic principles of being practical, economical, and aesthetically pleasing, suitable for the national context.
It's normal for opinions not to be adopted because decision-makers have access to broader information. I don't claim to possess the ultimate truth; my input is merely from a technical standpoint, so my opinions are just suggestions.
Everyone is a Part of History
In addition to professional books, you've written about your experiences at Tsinghua and observations along Lishi Road, including profiles of classmates, colleagues, and industry peers. Why this type of writing?
My intention was to leave a record of the people I've encountered. For example, Mr. Zhang Bo, the former chief architect of the Beijing Institute, left behind classic works such as the Great Hall of the People, the Nationalities Cultural Palace, and the Friendship Hotel. But I noticed that memories fade with time. So, I wrote a memoir titled "Memorable Moments Lasting in the World" as a small gesture.
Inspired by the works of my Tsinghua alumni and photographer, Zhang Zudao, I published several volumes of portraits. Since the publication of these photography collections, 170 of the individuals featured have passed away, emphasizing the necessity of preserving various figures' legacies. I'm sorting through correspondence and photos exchanged between first and second-generation Chinese architects. It's a fascinating facet of history. Sometimes, even at one or two in the morning, I can't resist heading to my study when a valuable memory strikes.
Beyond personal sentiments, from a macro-historical perspective, I believe every individual should leave a mark in the river of history, regardless of their prominence. In the past, historical narratives mainly focused on national or ethnic histories. Now, we're delving into institutional and collective histories. If we add family and personal histories into the mix, it becomes more comprehensive, forming a closed loop.
"China Science Newspaper": Working at one or two in the morning explains why many young people envy your work ethic and stamina!
Ma Guoxin: Jiang Nanxiang proposed "working for the country's health for fifty years," and I've achieved that goal. This couldn't have been done without the exercise habits from my university days—running, weightlifting, parallel bars, I've done them all. Now, it's living off those past efforts. But now, those reserves are almost depleted, and various ailments have cropped up. I jokingly call myself a "Four Highs Man." Especially now, with Parkinson's disease, writing is quite challenging, but thankfully, a young person taught me "voice-to-text."
After turning 70, it's the time to accumulate illnesses. Medical experts advocate for living with them, which doesn't frighten me too much; it's a natural law. It's just that life and work feel a bit inconvenient. Ji Xianlin once wrote that Peking University professors are queuing up for Babaoshan Cemetery in order of their age. I remember one thing he said: never cut in line!
