Conversing with Zihua Mo about the Quiet Power of Design & Architecture

Being recognised by the French Design Awards affirms not only the concept and design process of my work but also its broader impact. "The Dissolving Corbin Building" isn’t a conventional project—it’s grounded in a real urban context yet proposes an almost utopian vision. It reimagines adaptive reuse, revitalises surrounding public space, and explores how architecture can shape new communal lifestyles.

Formally, it experiments with complex three-dimensional surfaces and fluid geometries that integrate with the historic façade—pushing beyond typical conventions. Ultimately, the project seeks to rediscover a shared global language—food—and to create a sanctuary of joy within New York’s dense concrete jungle. This recognition encourages me to continue designing with vision, courage, and creativity beyond convention.

Before this, I often worked quietly behind the scenes, so receiving the French Design Awards felt like a meaningful validation—a reminder that I’m on the right path, especially when the world economy feels uncertain and many designers are shifting careers.

It’s also been a rare opportunity to share a project that once lived only in my portfolio with the wider world—to stand alongside other inspiring works, exchange ideas, and draw energy from that shared creative spirit.

Experimentation is essential—it’s like biological evolution: you never know which mutation will help something thrive. In design, it means constantly testing possibilities, comparing outcomes, and refining direction. Experimentation frees you from habitual thinking and opens up new ground.

For "The Dissolving Corbin Building." I tested countless approaches to the façade: from inserting bold, contrasting elements to more subtle interventions. Eventually, I found a balanced strategy—one that sits between the conservative and the radical, between maximalism and minimalism—preserving the old façade’s logic while creating something unmistakably new.

It actually came from weekend food-hunting trips with friends. While thinking about how to design a “public common space” that everyone could love, I realised—why not make food the connector of life and architecture?

America’s beauty lies in its diversity, reflected in its vibrant culinary culture. Translating that diversity into architecture led to the creation of spaces like food courts, rooftop bars, urban farms, and shared kitchens—places where everyday life and community truly intertwine.

Design isn’t a designer’s personal artwork, nor is it a linear path. It’s full of tensions—between ideals and reality, clients and designers, vision and feasibility. But rather than resisting these constraints, designers should embrace them. Complex limitations often spark the most exciting and meaningful ideas.

Design, unlike art, begins with a client’s needs. But as professionals, we must go beyond what’s explicitly requested to uncover better, often unspoken possibilities.

When clients’ opinions diverge from sound design logic, communication becomes key—educating, guiding, and building trust through reason and empathy. Likewise, when my own ideas are questioned, I respond with solid technical reasoning and research to address concerns and defend the integrity of the design.

The biggest challenge was proving the feasibility of its complex 3D façade. I tackled it by studying advanced fabrication methods and analysing precedents in adaptive reuse. The final strategy involved dividing the curved surface into smaller panels using projection lines, 3D-printing clay modules with robotic arms, and mounting them onto a new steel framework that supports both the panels and planters. This system allows the new structure to cantilever elegantly beyond the historic façade.

I step away from architecture completely—immerse myself in music, film, art, current events, or simply quiet everyday life. Inspiration often arrives unexpectedly, precisely when I stop searching for it.

I’m drawn to designs that connect with daily human life, not distant icons of prestige. I embrace warmth and vitality rather than cold perfection. At the same time, I’m passionate about innovation—exploring unconventional forms and advanced fabrication methods.

My diverse educational background allows me to think across scales—from urban context to façade detail—balancing the poetic and the practical, the visionary and the grounded.

Keep expanding your horizons. See more great works, learn diverse design methods, and stay curious about the world’s newest explorations. Otherwise, you risk designing in isolation.

Also, cultivate sharp observation—true insight gives you countless entry points into each design problem.

Definitely Zaha Hadid. Many label her as the “queen of curves,” but that’s a narrow view. She evolved through many phases—what remained constant was her fearless pursuit of the new. Always at the cutting edge of form and technology, she reshaped architectural imagination itself.

I often wonder, if she were still alive today, what new worlds she might create.

I wish people would ask: “Is there any hidden detail you spent extraordinary effort on?”

Yes—reconstructing the Corbin Building’s original façade. I studied archival drawings, modelled every moulding and window frame, and even used AI-generated depth maps from photos to rebuild complex reliefs. For parts unreachable by camera, I converted line drawings into sculpted surfaces through modelling tools. 

That painstaking digital craftsmanship ultimately gave my renderings their richness and realism—it was exhausting, but deeply rewarding.