At the Shanghai Grand Opera House, the Gravity-Defying Staircase Was Designed to Look Like a Hand Fan

Along the banks of the Huangpu River in Shanghai, a sweeping spiral staircase winds along the side of a white building, flowing upward toward the roof like a puff of smoke hanging in the air. But journey below the gyratory geometry, and a new image appears: The steps and railing become the canvas and sticks of a hand fan unfurled in the wind. This is the recently unveiled Shanghai Grand Opera House, where the site’s sinuous pièce de résistance can be enjoyed well before the curtain rises.

“Our initial thought wasn’t about what the building should look like, but rather: How can an important cultural institution be integrated into everyday public life in one of the world’s most vibrant cities?” says Kjetil Trædal Thorsen, founding partner of Snøhetta, the firm behind the project. “We wanted to explore how to transform it into a public landscape—a place where people can stop, experience, and enjoy themselves, whether they are watching a performance or not.”

A decade in the making, the completed project is one of the most significant in contemporary architecture. Spanning roughly 1.6 million square feet, the building encompasses three auditoriums that are equipped for diverse musical performances, including traditional opera, classical music, and even experimental productions. In addition to the venues, the building includes rehearsal, production, education, exhibition, and hospitality spaces, creating an all-encompassing cultural experience.

When conceiving the project, Snøhetta sought inspiration from the building’s site. Located in the Expo Back Beach area, the adjacent Huangpu River with its flowing stream, passing ships, and winding bends prompted the building’s most important design concept: movement. “While the Shanghai Grand Opera House certainly has distinctive visual characteristics, its form stems from considerations of circulation, participation, and public accessibility. The building’s geometry is closely linked to how people enter, ascend, explore, and experience the space,” Kjetil says.

Take the striking steps. While they’re the most visually captivating aspect of the design, they’re also rooted in function, allowing patrons and passersby alike to ascend them and experience the structure in new ways. Once you reach the roof, the views of the Puxi skyline and the river further connect visitors to the environment.

This idea continues throughout the rest of the complex, but as Kjetil explains, “the experience unfolds gradually.” Inside, large glass-curtain walls bring natural light into the sweeping lobby; as patrons move closer to the theaters, the design becomes more intimate, while the colors and textures become increasingly rich. “People move between open public landscapes and more intimate indoor environments; natural light changes with the alternation of day and night and the changing seasons,” he adds.

Each of the three theaters also possesses a distinct spatial character. The Red Hall, with 2,000 seats, is the heart of the building. A deep burgundy color envelops the audience seating, and its compact five-tiered layout minimizes the distance between the audience and the stage. The meticulously designed balconies, boxes, and walls not only create a visual rhythm but also serve to reflect and propagate sound, turning the theater into its own expertly tuned instrument.

Shen Hall, with 1,200 seats, draws inspiration from the spatial form of classical opera houses and can accommodate various performance types, including Baroque opera, classical opera, local operas, and dramas. The Hall of Mirrors, with 1,000 seats, offers greater flexibility; the stage and seating can be adjusted to meet different production needs, creating more possibilities for experimental performances. The Hall of Mirrors also connects to the external landscape through a large glass-curtain wall, allowing light and the scenery beyond to become part of the performance.

But great design isn’t just about what’s on the surface. At the Shanghai Grand Opera House, a network of interconnected tunnels and paths support behind-the-scenes movement necessary for a building program such as this. Audiences, actors, orchestras, stage crew, and backstage staff each have their own distinct movement paths, and multiple theaters must be able to operate simultaneously without interfering with one another. For example, the symphony orchestra’s rehearsal space and orchestra pit are located on corresponding underground floors, allowing for convenient horizontal transport of large instruments.

As noted, the Shanghai Grand Opera House is more than just a performance venue; it’s also meant to be a touchpoint for anyone in the city, audience member or not. “For us, ‘publicness’ is not just an ideological vision; it must be translated into a spatial reality,” Kjetil says. “People can connect with this space in many ways: watch performances, stroll on the rooftop, meet friends, visit exhibitions, admire the Huangpu River view, and even relive past memories here.”

In an era where architectural images spread rapidly through social media, this building, resembling a white folding fan, undoubtedly has the potential to become a popular landmark. But Kjetil is more concerned with whether people will want to return. “Photographs can spark curiosity, but truly meaningful architecture evokes emotional attachment,” he says. “If I return here in 50 years, I hope to see this building still deeply integrated into the daily life of Shanghai; in people’s eyes, it will no longer be just a ‘new landmark,’ but a familiar part of the city.”

This story was originally published by AD China.