Spiritual Sustainability as the Core Essence

For Architect Hồ Viết Vinh, a sustainable structure must encompass multiple dimensions: structural sustainability, environmental sustainability, aesthetic sustainability, and cultural sustainability. Yet, there is one essential, foundational element that underpins them all: spiritual sustainability. One of his upcoming and most cherished projects currently in development is the Trịnh Công Sơn Park in the ancient capital of Huế.

Guided by a philosophy of holistic sustainability, Hồ Viết Vinh has crafted unique architectural works such as Lebadang Memory Space and more recently, the Coral House in Hồ Tràm.

Could you share more about the milestones that have shaped your 25-year career?
I can summarize my more than 25 years of navigating this profession—full of challenges—into four stages: searching, understanding, contemplation, and practice.
The first stage took me around five years. I was seeking a way to survive in this field, with much effort but little clarity beyond earning a living.
The second stage arrived when I realized that architecture demands not only physical effort but also profound intellectual engagement.
The third stage was contemplation—reflecting on the distinct values that drive creativity. This was perhaps the most challenging period. It required me to relinquish things I had painstakingly gathered over time, clearing my mind to make space for the new.
Finally, the fourth stage is practice—not merely following thought processes, but letting intuition and wisdom guide my actions.

Your design philosophy seems inspired by Buddhist thought, correct?
Yes, indeed! The teacher who profoundly influenced my design philosophy is Thích Nhất Hạnh from Làng Mai (Plum Village), with his wisdom of interbeing (tương tức). According to Thích Nhất Hạnh, interbeing means: “If we understand that humans and nature are inseparable, we will know how to treat nature as we would treat ourselves—with care, gentleness, and love, free from violence. If we don’t want to harm ourselves, we should not harm nature, for harming nature is ultimately harming ourselves, and vice versa.”

How do you incorporate the concept of emptiness in your architectural works?
In essence, space is defined by emptiness. Without emptiness, there is no space. We must distinguish between the concepts of empty/full and open/closed. The former refers to spatial density, while the latter concerns the degree of openness to the external environment.
Emptiness is where dialogues unfold—between humans and nature, between individuals, and between oneself and the spiritual realm. It is a void that leads to infinite transformation and change.

What is your perspective on sustainable architecture? What, in your view, is the primary factor that defines sustainability?
When discussing sustainability, we must ask: sustainable in what sense? Is it structural, environmental, aesthetic, or cultural sustainability? Today, most conversations focus on environmental sustainability, as we face the brink of ecological destruction.
In my perspective, a truly sustainable structure must integrate all four aspects, with an additional core foundation: spiritual sustainability. This form of sustainability is rooted in an intuitive understanding of the fundamental truth of life on Earth—harmony, where all beings support one another to coexist.

“Architecture is a part of nature, and thus, it must harmonize with its surroundings. Light, wind, rain, storms, and even insects are all guests of the space.”

Is there a project that best embodies your design philosophy?
That would be the Lebadang Memory Space in Huế. This space is a harmonious blend of three elements: nature, form, and poetry. Nature includes the creations of the Earth—trees, flowers, rivers, skies, stones, humans, and animals. Form is defined by lines, shapes, colors, and materials that shape the space. Poetry is the soul that breathes life into it, creating a space that resonates with both the physical and the spiritual.

The thread that connects natural elements with the crafted form is poetry—a melody that flows from the primordial, carrying with it layers of cultural sediment, merging with the rhythm of life to shape the memory of time.

An Architect who has influenced you?
That would be Peter Zumthor, the renowned Swiss architect known for his famous quote:
“To design buildings that captivate the senses, architects must transcend the limits of form and structure.”

What experience do you consider most important for an architect like yourself?
Architecture came to me as destiny. Therefore, every experience carries its own value—there is no good or bad experience.
However, one pivotal experience stands out as a turning point in my creative journey. In 2005, I had the opportunity to participate in the 8th International Creative Competition organized by Les Ateliers Internationaux de Maitrise d’Oeuvre Urbaine Cergy Pontoise in France.
The competition brought together nearly 40 architects, urban planners, economists, managers, and environmental specialists from 17 countries. The theme was Ecological Tourism Urbanism in Cần Giờ (Can Gio entre ville ecologique et destination touristique).
Our project, titled “The City of Distinct Emotions” made a powerful impression on the jury and won the Special Award.

What is your perspective on materials in architecture? Are you experimenting with any specific materials?
Materials play a vital role in evoking aesthetic emotions within architectural spaces, alongside form and design language. Under the influence of light, these three elements harmonize to create the texture of space.
In my architectural designs, I place particular emphasis on exploring and incorporating local materials. These materials infuse spaces with the spirit of the place, giving them a unique identity and soul.

Could you share more about an upcoming project you are excited about?
A project I hold dear and that is currently being developed in Huế is the Trịnh Công Sơn Park.
Located at the confluence of three rivers, it rests against the Gia Hội Ancient Quarter, gazes upon the Hương River, and looks towards Ngự Bình Mountain as its front shield, with the Kim Phụng Range stretching across the landscape. This harmonious geographical setting provides the perfect foundation for the park in the heart of the ancient capital.
The park spans approximately 6.2 hectares and stretches nearly 1 kilometer along the lower reaches of Hương River, surrounded by water landscapes. Its structure is divided into two main sections: (1) The Space of “The Great Circle of Unity“ (20,000 m²); (2) The Musical Garden Space (42,000 m²).
The Great Circle of Unity is designed around the symbol of the Vietnamese Embrace, forming a double-layered circle representing the Fields of Vietnam. This concept draws inspiration from Trịnh Công Sơn’s musical longing for peace.
At its heart stands the statue of Trịnh Công Sơn, with a poised and serene posture, emerging from the landscape like a mountain standing tall. He becomes a symbol of the nation’s desire for unity, love for humanity, and a reflection on the human condition.
Every step into this space echoes with the uplifting and refreshing melodies of his music. It invites us to connect, hand in hand, forming a unified entity called Vietnam.
The Musical Garden Space, on the other hand, captures the lingering melodies of nature. Here, one can sense the gentle whispers of grass, flowers, birds, and the vibrant life that surrounds us—a symphony of nature’s tender serenade.

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Nestled gracefully above tranquil waters, Maison de l’Eau embodies the harmonious blend of modern architecture and nature. Its unique curved design, crafted from warm wood, invites sunlight to dance through expansive windows, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding forest. This serene retreat not only provides a peaceful sanctuary but also celebrates sustainable living, encouraging a deep connection with the environment. Maison de l’Eau stands as a testament to the beauty of simplicity, where every curve and corner reflects the gentle flow of nature, creating a perfect balance between comfort and elegance.

Inspired by Professor Thai Kim Lan’s collection of over 7,000 ceramic artifacts recovered from the Perfume River, the idea was conceived to restore and elevate these artifacts to reflect their true value. All ceramic products originate from the earth and are matured through fire. The intense heat of fire hardens the earth, enabling it to endure the test of time.
To symbolize this tempering quality, dark red painted steel will be used. The interplay of contrasting elements—hot and cold, hard and soft—will be applied in the design language to accentuate the significance of time and place.

Nestled quietly under the canopy of the coconut forest swaying in the gentle breeze, the simple house comes into existence thanks to the reflections of the dawn sunlight. The house has a simple modern look, inheriting the shape of a traditional house with 3 compartments and 2 wings, with a large veranda surrounding it. The veranda is a transitional space and acts as a climate regulator for the whole house. Not only that, but it is also a place where countless activities connect people with the surrounding open space. The rooms all open to the garden and the doorways pull the garden into its deepest recesses. The nuanced transitions of time and space also take place in the cut of this patio.

Project
Container Resort
Location
Cu Lao Pho, Bien Hoa City, Dong Nai Province, Vietnam
Area
1.500 m²
Services
Masterplan, Architecture and Interior design
Status
Under construction
Team
HVV Architect & Partners

Intro
Standing in the garden feels like stepping into a separate realm, where time seems to pause, leaving only gentle sounds and serene imagery. Beneath the shade of an ancient Bodhi tree, the Buddha statue exudes a quiet majesty, offering a soft reminder to let go of burdens and listen to the tranquil rhythm within the depths of the soul.
This is not just a place of retreat but a sanctuary for rediscovering peace amidst life’s constant flow. Here, lush greenery embraces every contour of modern architecture, together composing a perfect harmony that guides individuals back to their true selves.

Rêu không phải là cỏ cây, cũng không hoàn toàn là rong rêu trôi dạt theo dòng nước. Nó là một thực thể kỳ lạ, vừa nguyên sơ, vừa vĩnh cửu. Rêu không có rễ, nhưng lại bám chặt vào đá. Không có thân cành, nhưng lan rộng như một tấm thảm. Không có tiếng nói, nhưng lại kể những câu chuyện cổ xưa hơn bất cứ cuốn sách nào từng được viết ra.
Thế giới của Rêu là một vùng giao thoa giữa cái hữu hình và cái vô hình. Nếu nhìn từ xa, Rêu chỉ là một lớp xanh nhạt, một mảng màu lặng lẽ trên nền đá xám. Nhưng nếu cúi xuống thật gần, ta sẽ thấy một hệ sinh thái thu nhỏ, nơi những sợi tơ mềm mại vươn lên, đón lấy ánh sáng đầu ngày. Rêu không chỉ sống trong không gian – nó còn bám vào ký ức, len lỏi vào những vết nứt của thời gian.
Tôi gọi Rêu mang một diễn trình với tên gọi “biên niên sử”: một cuốn sách không cần giấy mực, nhưng lưu giữ được những gì đã qua. Một hạt rêu nhỏ bé có thể mang theo nó câu chuyện của hàng trăm năm. Nó lớn lên trên bề mặt những công trình cổ, trên đá núi, trên mái ngói, trên những phiến đường rêu phong của một thành phố cũ. Nó ghi lại dấu vết của từng cơn mưa, từng đợt nắng, từng trận gió mùa.
Và như thế, Rêu bước vào cuộc đời tôi như một chứng nhân lặng lẽ nhưng không thể nào lơ đãng. Cùng với Thời gian, Rêu tồn tại trong một vũ điệu chậm rãi, không màng đến sự hối hả của thế gian. Tôi trở thành người chứng kiến: không, đúng hơn là kẻ lang thang giữa những lớp ký ức thời gian mà Rêu lưu giữ, cố gắng hiểu những gì mà nó muốn nói.
Nhưng liệu Biên niên sử Rêu có thực sự là một câu chuyện thú vị? Hay chỉ là tôi đang cố gắng tìm kiếm ý nghĩa trong một thứ vốn dĩ vô ngôn?

Kiến trúc sư Hồ Viết Vinh, Huế 2025

Bước đi trên thửa ruộng, một bên đang chín vàng và một bên tuổi mười sáu, lòng như bước vào một ngã rẽ thời gian. Vựa lúa đồng bằng không ngủ để mang thóc gạo đến các hải cảng, để chuyển đến nơi cần đến. Vậy mà nó không một khoảng lặng nghỉ ngơi giữa các mùa vụ để hồi sinh. Ngày xưa, người dân cho đất nghỉ sau các mùa vụ canh tác; thế mà giờ đây nó phải đầu tắt mặt tối, phải gồng gánh sức nặng của mưu sinh. Một khi không được nghỉ ngơi vào mùa nước tràn đồng thì đất sẽ suy kiệt do không ngậm được phù sa, cái thưở mùa nước nổi cả đồng bằng như vào một ngày hội lớn: sự tất bật tạm lắng lại để tiếng cười và tiếng thở của đất được rền vang và hồi phục. Giờ đây, đến mùa nước nổi, cánh đồng vẫn vậy, nước không tràn qua đê bao bảo vệ mùa vụ. Dòng phù sa được ví như dòng sữa mẹ nuôi dưỡng vùng Châu thổ thì giờ đây đã cuộn cuộn chảy ra biển tạo thành các cù lao, ụ nổi ngăn đường ra biển lớn.

Ruộng thức là trăn trở và tâm sự của một vùng châu thổ trù phú đất ngậm phù sa một thời.

KTS. Hồ Viết Vinh