BORDER BONDS | How Daria Yang Du Envisions Borders as Bridges

It’s incredibly meaningful for me. This project dealt with themes of displacement and belonging, so the recognition reinforces our belief that architecture has the power to generate empathy and provoke conversation—especially when approached collaboratively.

The award has sparked interest in our process and values, particularly from institutions and practitioners working at the intersection of social impact and design. It’s been an encouragement to continue pushing for context-driven, interdisciplinary work.

Experimentation is essential. Many of our conceptual moves came from unexpected references—for instance, Daria’s early research involved inflating and popping balloons to explore spatial subtraction, which helped shape later formal moves. That spirit of curiosity defined our collaboration.

Sometimes it’s abstract—like movement patterns, or even a sudden visual on the street. Other times it’s a conceptual leap, like reframing “border” not as a line but as a zone of possibility. One spark can shift an entire scheme.

That design is rarely a solo endeavor. Behind every concept are hours of iteration, disagreement, and collective problem-solving. The process is messy—and that’s where the beauty often lies.

By aligning on goals early and framing our proposals as responses to real needs—not just aesthetics—we find that when the narrative is strong and grounded, clients are often excited to embrace bold directions.

The scope was ambitious: architectural design, landscape integration, spatial strategy, and detailing—all within one proposal. Coordinating these layers—especially with limited time and resources—was challenging. We overcame it through clear role division: Ningyuan led the architectural direction, while I handled the landscape and master plan narrative, site analysis, and detailed drawings.

Stepping away is something I find that has always been helpful.

Empathy and spatial perception.

Own your vision, but never work alone.

I’ve always admired Bjarke Ingels for his conceptual clarity and communicative strength. Even just hearing him critique a scheme would be a learning experience. His ability to frame complexity into accessible ideas is something I aspire to in my own design storytelling.

When asked, "Who are you designing for, really?" my answer is clear: I design for those often forgotten in the planning process—displaced communities, marginalized voices, and people navigating change—aiming to create space that honors their experience.