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Commune Hotel, Beijing
A most unusual hotel—part luxurious retreat, part architectural showcase—has opened outside Beijing. High style has come to modern China.
The Commune Hotel lies in a valley surrounded by the hills over which the Great Wall twists and turns. The land is arid, but those who are longing to hear a bird's song, after the din and pollution of Beijing, will find some contemplative quiet.
The Commune by the Great Wall has already garnered international recognition.
In architecture, the project won a special prize at the 2002 Biennale di Venezia, establishing its importance as a showcase for contemporary Chinese and Asian architecture.
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Condé Nast Traveler named the hotel among the ‘100 Hot Hotels in the World’ in 2004 and Tatler Travel Guide ranked the hotel among the ‘10 best Boutique Hotels’ in 2005. In each case, The Commune by the Great Wall was the only hotel in mainland China to be so distinguished.
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Originally conceived as a showcase for Asian architecture, Commune is unlike any other hotel in China—actually, unlike any other hotel in the world. It is eccentric and offers something more than the usual plush of expensive, multi-starred retreats. Instead, guests can rent what one architect calls "an advanced contemporary architectural experience." Commune has a handsomely designed clubhouse, but it's the prospect of spending time in one of the 12 individual houses that attracts wealthy adventurers.
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Typically, individuals or a group of acquaintances will rent an entire house (each one is staffed with its own butler, who wears a uniform adorned with a red star) designed by a famous architect. Instead of spending the evening at karaoke—the enduring passion of at least half the businessmen in Asia—guests can sit with friends amid the edgy architecture of the late 20th and early 21st century, drinking a martini as the sun sets over the Great Wall.
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Commune is the pet project of Zhang Xin, the wife and business partner of Pan Shiyi, one of China's major real estate developers. Acquaintances always describe the couple in the same terms. Xin, 38, is the polished woman of the world (she went to Cambridge and was an analyst at Goldman Sachs). Shiyi, 40, is the rough entrepreneur who emerged from the people. No doubt there is some truth to this duchess-and-peasant portrayal, but there is also some symbolic show biz going on: To Chinese observers, their marriage represents the union of Chinese and Western values.
At Commune, Xin initially intended to build a grouping of private houses designed by influential Asian architects, which she would then sell to individual buyers. However, when the collection won an architecture award at the 2002 Venice Biennale, Commune became a symbol of China's cultural aspirations, and Xin and her husband decided to showcase the project internationally. "Our grand vision," she explains, "was to build a contemporary architectural museum for private houses in a valley—next to the Great Wall—that will influence a whole new generation of architects, developers, and consumers in China."
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Xin's main adviser around Commune is Antonio Ochoa, one of the 12 architects who designed houses for Commune. Born in Venezuela, Ochoa has lived in China for many years (his father was a South American Maoist). Xin tells him that he has "a Latin flavor" and "understands about life." In other words, Ochoa represents the pleasure principle at Commune. He will order a couple of excellent bottles of wine at lunch—not just at dinner—and he is always thinking of ways to smooth out any rough edges at the hotel. The pleasure principle, given the horrors of Chinese history and the puritanical fervor of communism, does not come naturally to most contemporary Chinese. But that does not mean that they don't believe in it. And some Westerners, while enjoying the boomtown flavor of Beijing, also long for the subtler elements of style and pleasure. That's what Commune hopes to provide.
They will also find, if Ochoa has his way, a magical restaurant. Commune has recently hired several top regional chefs, including one to provide Cantonese dishes, another one for Sichuan specialities, and a third to offer the best Peking Duck in the Beijing area. In keeping with the pastiche of modern China, there will be an invitation to mix and match different styles of cooking. The idea is that perhaps something extraordinary will one day emerge from this culinary give-and-take.
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The clubhouse mirrors, in a postmodern way, the Great Wall. A structure of wood, Corten steel, stone, and concrete designed by the South Korean Seung H-Sang, it will rust into a color that reflects the landscape; the Great Wall can be seen from various vantage points. The architect has cleverly arranged the clubhouse's public and private spaces, with a large public dining area and six eccentrically designed private dining rooms that are perfect for the sort of private groups and parties that Commune hopes to regularly host. Each has its own courtyard and theme. One, for example, has walls of straw, to evoke autumn and the harvest. (Not far away, in a Cognac-and-cigar room, the walls are made of peacock feathers.) Not surprisingly, the clubhouse has a huge indoor swimming pool, with transparent doors that open onto a vista of the Great Wall.
The most popular dwelling in Commune—by Japanese architect Kengo Kuma—is Bamboo Wall House. It's a place of blissful tranquillity, enlivened by bamboo accents. With simple, spare geometric lines, its construction materials are at the same time rough and refined. At the heart of the house is a pool containing a floating bamboo island, surrounded by bamboo walls, where you can kneel and sip tea while admiring the landscape. Many visitors actually dream of living in Kuma's house. The young woman taking me around—a shy employee who spoke no English—grew momentarily chatty because she wanted me to know that this was her favorite. Works of architecture often have a kind of sound—some are jangling, some harmonious, and some melodic. Bamboo Wall House has the sound of silence.
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Most of the others are examples of what can be best described as architectural statements. Interesting to visit for a weekend, but you wouldn't necessarily want to live there. For example, Suitcase House—by Hong Kong architect Gary Chang—is a charming conceit that you can "empty" or "fill" with rooms and furniture by lowering or raising its floors. Furniture House, by Japanese architect Shigeru Ban, is designed around the furniture rather than the other way around. The chairs appear very important, as if they were actually sculpture, which makes you feel rather special when you sit down. Cantilever House, designed by Ochoa, opens onto the landscape in a way that's rare in traditional Chinese architecture, which defensively closes off the world behind walls. The house, playing with the interaction of interior and exterior spaces, emphasizes views of the Great Wall and includes a vast porch on which one can sit in a hot tub or enjoy a barbecue.
"In the West you're used to seeing serious contemporary architecture," says Ochoa, "but for the Chinese this is the moon. It is the first time they have the experience of going into a contemporary space. When they visit, they touch everything." Westerners will not experience the same wonder, of course, although actually staying in such places will still be a very unusual experience for even the most jaded world traveler. It interested me that, as an ensemble, the houses in Commune had little in common beside postmodern razzle-dazzle. The Chinese do not appear intent, at the moment anyway, upon developing their own distinctive or national style. Instead, they are drawn to the work of architects throughout Asia and the world. In Commune, China itself, traditionally very inward looking, seems to look outward, beyond the great walls of its past. Still, it's a revealing irony that Commune by the Great Wall is, itself, built behind a gate.
Like China, Commune is very much a work in process. No one knows whether it will succeed as a hotel. Its main weaknesses stem from larger problems within China. For example, the detail work is mediocre; after decades of communist rule, a reservoir of skilled craftsmen and artisans just isn't there. Doors don't always close smoothly. Edges aren't sharp. Paint can be slapdash. The gardens look tatty. Commune also doesn't offer the family-oriented amusements found in expensive resorts in the West. Activities like horseback riding or hiking remain foreign in China. Commune has so far succeeded mainly as a place for corporate retreats and parties, selling style to people who sell style. In particular, vendors of high-end luxury goods (insanely popular in China) love Commune. Porsche had a party there. So did Jennifer Lopez. And Hennessy Cognac recently celebrated its 200th anniversary with a party at the hotel.
One detail Commune gets comically right suggests it will successfully negotiate what "stylish" means to our time. The clubhouse bathrooms play with gender stereotypes—the men's is pink, the women's dark, English, and gentlemanly. You could almost be in New York.
Kempinski has been invited to manage one of the world’s most avant-garde boutique hotels, The Commune by the Great Wall near Beijing, China, starting 15 August 2005. Kempinski brings hotel management expertise to this unique, private collection of living architecture which has been developed by SOHO China, headed by husband and wife team Pan Shiyi and Zhang Xin.
Since October 2002, the eccentric boutique hotel cum architectural museum has been welcoming a select clientele to stay in one of 11 villas, which also enjoy the use of a Club House. Each exclusive retreat, as well as the Club House, has been designed in a contemporary style by one of the 11 prominent Asian architects, who were invited by the Owners to be involved in the project. The stunning natural setting lends itself to interpretation by the architects, who have succeeded in creating breath-taking, simple structures which frame the views over the landscape and the Great Wall.
A total of 46 beautifully designed rooms are currently open and once the second phase of construction is completed, a total of 265 rooms will be available.
The hotel is unlike any other hotel in the world and offers guests an ‘architectural experience’ rather than a conventional hotel stay and is an ultra-chic venue for corporate conferences and events, making a break from the ordinary.
Commune by the Great Wall
Yanqing County
This "commune" is composed of nine villas designed by some of Asia's greatest architects, all within view of an especially magnificent stretch of the Great Wall.
Originally intended as a condominium complex, the leafy compound was instead transformed into a most unlikely hotel— and the spectacular views alone are worth the price.
Accommodations range from Kengo Kuma's popular Bamboo Wall, with its beautiful teahouse surrounded by water, to the Split House of Yung-ho Chang, China's most important architect, suspended over a stream at the bottom of a tiny gorge. Although each villa has its own designer kitchen, there is also a restaurant with both Western and Chinese chefs.
situated in a serene Chinese green mountain range with sweeping views of the Great Wall, may well be the coolest boutique hotel we have ever encountered.
About 40 miles from Beijing, the Commune is hardly Communist. With its broadband Internet access, DVD players, indoor swimming pool, private cinema, and 11 houses peppered across the mountainside (each with a private butler), The Commune is a true decadent design hotel. Sounds way more Kennedy than Mao doesn't it?
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