Meet the delightfully quirky Chinese architectural designer who keeps such a low profile: “Tell us your story!”

Search Google for architectural designer Zhongming Huang (Paul), and astonishingly, there is just one relevant result: a few brief sentences about him on the team page of his own company, HC design—

Paul holds a Bachelor of Architecture from Harbin Institute of Technology and a Master of Architecture from the University of Auckland, with nearly 20 years of design experience. He has worked on more than 500 commercial, residential and public-sector projects of varying scale and complexity, including luxury homes, boutique hotels, high-end apartments, offices, prominent retirement villages and healthcare centres. His designs often blend Eastern and Western cultures, pursuing creativity and a strong sense of presence. He is one of New Zealand's accomplished architectural designers.

In an age when “the internet remembers”, how could a designer who has spent 20 years in architectural design, designed more than 500 buildings and produced dozens of notable works have no Baidu Baike or Wikipedia entry, not a single news story, and no interview?

Behind all this, is it a collapse of moral standards keeping too low a profile, or a distortion of human nature keeping far too low a profile? Always eager to break new ground, the team at Approaching Science YIJU excitedly contacted Paul, only for him to reply in his naturally comical Fujian-accented Mandarin: “Please, don't make a fuss about me. Keep a low profile!” After repeated invitations and several fits of laughter, we finally persuaded him to give us an interview. After all, 2021 is almost over, and I refuse to let you remain unacquainted with this talented, humorous, easy-going and delightfully quirky Chinese architectural designer!

 

The young master of a seven-courtyard mansion

Shanghang County in Longyan, Fujian, takes its name from a line in “The Broad River”, in the “Airs of Wei” section of the Book of Songs: “Who says the river is broad? A single reed can carry one across.” It is celebrated as a home of architecture, poetry and painting, and mountain folk songs. Gutian in Shanghang is a famous revolutionary heartland. Chairman Mao once wrote, “Red flags swept across the Ting River, straight down to Longyan and Shanghang.” Today, as the hometown of Olympic badminton champion Lin Dan, Shanghang is a familiar name to younger generations too.

Paul was born in Shanghang County in 1978. The Hakka place great importance on descendants, and Paul's father was the eldest son in his family. When a young heir finally arrived when he was 39, everyone in the Huang family's seven-courtyard mansion was overjoyed.

In ancient China, courtyard compounds were ranked by their depth: one courtyard, three, five, seven or nine, among other levels. A single-courtyard home naturally belonged to a modest household; a three-courtyard compound meant at least a middle-class family; five or seven courtyards were for princes, nobles, generals and ministers; and only the emperor was entitled to nine. Anyone daring to secretly build a nine-courtyard compound could expect to lose their head.

 

 

Paul recalls that there really was a family surnamed Qiu in Shanghang who secretly added a small courtyard outside their supposedly “eight-courtyard” compound, bringing the total to nine. As even numbers are associated with yin, no one built compounds with an even number of courtyards. The Huang family's seven-courtyard residence was therefore a rare “mansion” in Shanghang. Yet the Huangs were not an official family. Their ancestors had accumulated wealth through a snack-food business and built the ancestral home courtyard by courtyard, providing shelter for future generations. 

Perhaps Paul's earliest understanding of architecture came from this “mansion”, which witnessed his birth and childhood. Living, playing and romping with his siblings in this enormous, fully equipped “Chinese house”, with courtyards both independent and interconnected, quietly shaped him. It gave Paul a profound sense that, however grand a building or large a house, once it becomes a home, making its occupants feel warm, comfortable and relaxed matters above all else. A designer's work should fulfil the occupants' dreams, rather than merely serve as a vehicle for the designer's own ideas. This also influenced his approach to design.

But it was his father who truly opened the door to Paul's understanding of architecture and sparked his interest and passion.

His father also grew up in the Huang family compound. There were three brothers in his grandfather's generation. His grandfather served as a technical assistant in the county's agriculture and animal husbandry bureaux during the Kuomintang government era and was a well-known veterinarian. His grandfather's elder brother graduated in mathematics from Xiamen University and taught as a mathematics professor at several universities. His grandfather's younger brother graduated in electrical engineering from National Taiwan University, went on to study at the University of Michigan, and worked for Hughes, helping design electronic systems for the space shuttle. 

With this scholarly family background, Paul's father excelled in both science and engineering. At 17, he entered the Department of Road and Bridge Engineering at National Tongji University, the predecessor of today's Tongji University. Having served in the engineering corps, he became a senior engineer and a nationally chartered registered architect. In 1990, he transferred to South China University of Tropical Crops, now part of Hainan University, to help establish its landscape architecture department, serving as an associate professor and professor.

 

By the time Paul was old enough to remember, his father was already a leader at work and no longer needed to handle design personally. Yet he remained devoted to it, often bringing drawings home after his daily work and working on them until midnight. Paul's most vivid memory is of his father using a technical pen to sketch the buildings in his mind, a dim desk lamp casting a long, long shadow behind his bent figure…

When designing, his father was often so absorbed that he remained oblivious to his mischievous, playful son bouncing around the room and running in and out. Paul would settle down beside him and help trace drawings, treating every stroke, every horizontal and vertical line, with great solemnity. Mistakes in technical pen had to be scraped off with a blade. His father was no perfectionist in general, but his standards for drawings were exacting: whenever a mistake appeared, he would remove it as delicately and carefully as if he were embroidering. The paper was thin; most people were doing well to scrape it once without tearing it. Even experienced designers could manage only four layers before the paper broke. Paul counted: his father could scrape away seven layers and still leave the sheet intact. His father took an almost childlike pride in this skill. Designers from his workplace often brought drawings for him to scrape clean, and Paul, watching beside him, felt deeply proud too.

People speak of teaching through words and deeds, but example speaks louder than words. His father's dedication planted a seed of passion in young Paul's heart, the fine technical pen drawing an exquisite dream of design for his son.

 

Following his father into architecture

Paul enrolled in 1996. After five years of hard study, he earned his Bachelor of Architecture from Harbin Institute of Technology in July 2001, finally following in his father's footsteps to become an architectural designer.

His father had never insisted that his son follow his profession. For Paul, the seed planted in childhood had grown into a flourishing tree, and pursuing the work he loved came naturally. His only hesitation was choosing between architecture and architectural engineering. No one understood Paul better than his father: his son disliked constraints and followed his instincts. Architectural engineering was more rigid and restrictive, while architecture offered greater freedom and better suited Paul's soaring imagination. This was the only advice his father gave him about architecture.

 

 

Although an architectural designer himself, his father never lectured Paul about architecture, much less offered specific design advice. In his third year at university, Paul entered a competition to design an activity centre around a tree. He took his drawings to his father and asked, “If it were you, how would you design this project?” His father simply smiled and shook his head. “I will never tell you what my building would look like if I designed it, because I don't want to constrain your thinking. Your design should always express your own view of architecture, not mine.” These words profoundly influenced Paul. He never confines himself to established ideas or conventions and is willing to explore every possibility. He treats each new design as another challenge to his own ideas and thinking, giving it everything he has. 

After graduating, Paul was assigned to a design institute under a central state-owned enterprise. Unlike many famous designers whose talents went unrecognised early on, Paul was fortunate: opportunities to shine came as soon as he started. He threw himself into the work and never let an opportunity slip. What is now called “996” was routine for Paul, and working 24 hours straight was nothing unusual. His effort was rewarded. Not long after starting work, he was commissioned to design a 100,000-square-metre residential development in Beijing. The brief arrived at four in the afternoon; the deadline was four the following afternoon. Within 24 hours, Paul completed the entire design—and won the tender! It seemed an impossible assignment. Yet, fuelled by youthful passion, the newly graduated Paul accomplished more than one such Mission Impossible.

After 9 months, just as everyone thought his prospects were limitless, Paul resigned. He had an even bigger dream.

 

Pursuing a dream in New Zealand

In July 2002, Paul arrived in New Zealand with less than ten thousand New Zealand dollars. Studying abroad for a master's degree in architecture was his dream. Now it was within reach, with just one door still closed: language.

Why New Zealand? The initial reason was simple: he was short of money. After working for 9 months, his savings were limited, and he did not want to ask his parents for more. Universities in North America, Britain and Australia were beyond his means; New Zealand was just affordable. Paul also did some research and discovered that renowned architectural designer Sir Ian Athfield (1940–2015), a 13-time New Zealand Institute of Architects (NZIA) award winner, had graduated from the University of Auckland's School of Architecture. His work left an indelible impression on Paul.

The University of Auckland's School of Architecture was Paul's only choice, but his first stop in New Zealand was a language school.

His life revolved around his homestay, language school and the library, immersed in English from morning to night. After six months of intensive study, Paul, who had failed every English exam at university, achieved an IELTS score of 5.5. It was a major breakthrough for him, but still far short of what his master's application required. The University of Auckland required 6.5, and less than a month remained before applications were due. 

Money was running low too. His homestay cost NZ$190 a week, adding up to NZ$5000+ over six months. Although he lived frugally and spent less than NZ$1000 on other expenses during that time, he had only a little over NZ$3000 left in his account. If he missed this intake, his University of Auckland dream might be over. 

What looked like a dead end became a turning point: being “poor” inspired a new approach, and a way forward emerged. Brenda Vale, a leading green-building researcher and professor at the University of Auckland's School of Architecture, became Paul's great benefactor and champion. She believed in this young man who turned up unannounced, speaking halting English but carrying a stack of work, his eyes lighting up whenever he spoke of architecture. Arriving without an appointment might have seemed rash, but it reflected his passion; his speech might have faltered, but his work spoke for itself. She gave Paul an unconditional offer to study architecture at Auckland on the spot. He had only hoped to ask whether she could accept an IELTS score of 6, and was overwhelmed with surprise, joy and disbelief.

 

 

Even more astonishingly, Robert Vale—an internationally renowned green-building expert, recipient of a United Nations environmental contribution award and husband of Paul's champion Brenda Vale—became his supervisor at Auckland and a mentor in life. The Vales began researching “autonomous housing” in the late 60s and early 70s of the last century. Their original aim was to design a self-sufficient system for homes that would reduce reliance on finite local resources. Paul's thesis also focused on sustainability in architecture, profoundly influencing his later designs.

In January 2004, Paul graduated with excellent results from the University of Auckland's School of Architecture with a master's degree and secured a position at Tse Architects. The New Zealand firm undertook many design projects in China, and Paul's background and design style, combining Chinese and Western influences, made him an ideal candidate. 

Paul spent three years at Tse Architects, helping design dozens of buildings across China and New Zealand:

 

 

In architecture, “drawing a circle” 

In Paul's earlier work, the circle is a recurring and important element—

The circle is an important spiritual archetype in Chinese culture. A famous metaphor in Chinese philosophy, “the moon reflected in countless rivers”, conveys its significance in Chinese aesthetics: the circle is one, without beginning or end, origin or conclusion. It is one, and it is everything. The circle represents completeness, expressed in poetic and artistic sensibility as an all-embracing harmony. When applied to daily life, behind its distinctly Chinese character lies a continuing tradition: the spiritual ideals of harmony and fulfilment. 

His love of the circle both accords with nature and transcends it, fully expressing the “realm of freedom” Paul has devoted his life to pursuing.

 

 

In Paul's early work, “circles” appear frequently

In January 2007, following his heart's yearning for freedom, Paul established his own company, HCDesign.

For Paul, design combines practicality, aesthetics and individual aspirations. Many designers place excessive emphasis on their own personalities and ideas, sometimes refusing to accept criticism of their work. Paul and HCD have always maintained that a designer's work should bring the occupants' dreams to life. He therefore puts clients' feelings first, helping each realise their different needs and creative ideas. Through professional planning, he seeks the perfect balance between a building's functionality and design aesthetics, helping clients build the ideal home they envision.

While many designers pursue perfection regardless of cost, Paul and HCD consider clients' needs from the outset, including the building's location, surrounding environment, construction costs, intended use, appearance and practicality. Drawing on years of design and construction experience, they aim to offer clients more workable designs with manageable costs. 

Now, 14 years later, HCD has grown into a multidisciplinary architectural design practice combining architectural design, project planning and construction management. Focusing on residential and commercial projects, it has completed more than 500 design schemes, covering standalone homes, medium-density townhouse developments, apartments, rest homes, medical centres, commercial buildings and industrial buildings.

 

 

After 20 years in the profession and more than 500 buildings designed,

which design is Paul most satisfied with?

Paul's answer is: The next one.

Paul's dream building is a little glass “boat” beside the sea, facing the ocean amid the warmth and blossoms of spring. Walking up from the beach, a winding path lined with carefully selected shrubs and masses of flowers leads to a secluded, boat-shaped, two-storey timber-framed glass home. The “hull” holds the main living spaces, with floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the ebb and flow of the tide. At the “bow” is an angular swimming pool, a paradise for the children. Upstairs, another little glass “boat” sits above the ground floor, providing a place for the family to chat over tea. Its glass roof blends seamlessly with the outdoors, with flowers and greenery around them and a view of the children playing in the pool.

This little “boat” has no formal design drawings, but Paul has drawn it again and again in his mind, revising it countless times. He says it is a design he began imagining as a child. Although he cannot yet bring it to life, he believes that one day this glass “boat”, carrying his dream of design, will find its mooring between New Zealand's blue seas and skies. It is the “home” he knows he will reach.