We’ve worked on several factory renovation projects so far, and we know that the real challenge in this type of work is never about what can be done, but rather what should not be done. Fortunately, our client had seen many adaptive reuse projects both in China and abroad, and already had a clear expectation of how “refinement” and “roughness” could coexist. This gave us a rare sense of alignment: instead of pursuing perfection, we focused on finding that exact sense of balance.
Throughout the process, we kept asking ourselves one question: how rough is appropriate? If it becomes rougher, would it start to feel crude? There is no standard answer. We could only test, adjust, and respond as we went. It is precisely through this constant negotiation that the space gradually grew into its own identity.
At its core, a restaurant set within an old factory has only one essential goal—to make people want to stay.
We have always believed that the baseline of industrial renovation is to preserve the original traces of the factory—they are its soul. Any newly introduced restaurant program must therefore strike a balance on two levels: it must neither undermine the industrial character of the space, nor compromise operational efficiency. It needs to support diverse functions, from table layouts to an afternoon bakery and full dinner service.
Every design move was tested along this line of balance. Too rough, and the atmosphere might not hold; too refined, and the character of the factory might be lost. In the end, every solution was carefully calibrated within this spectrum.
Given the inherent openness of the factory, we began by rethinking the conventional notion of a “door.” It should not simply serve as a boundary or a divider—we wanted it to act as a medium of flow. To that end, a semi-open outdoor platform was introduced as a prelude to the restaurant. Through gradients of planting, light, and material, the act of entering becomes less of a threshold crossing and more of a natural transition.
The garden and interior interweave through large openings and sliding interfaces, allowing wind and light to move freely across different zones. Structurally, the original factory framework is retained; however, the space feels fluid, continuous, and breathable. Users are no longer passively moving through space—they are breathing with it.
With a ceiling height of nearly seven meters, conventional lighting could not effectively illuminate the tables. We introduced a triangular steel structure at the center of the space, extending like fishing rods to reach above the tables along the walls. Track lighting is concealed within, allowing flexible directional adjustment. This solution remained unchanged from the initial design phase and has since become one of the most recognizable features of the space.
In summer, heat accumulates beneath the roof and is difficult to dissipate. So we installed two large fans—not as decorative elements, but simply to ensure real comfort for those seated inside.
To offset the inherent coolness of the industrial setting, we introduced a warm orange tone as a visual thread throughout the space. Like a soft glow settling onto the industrial framework, it relaxes the rigidity of the environment while offering a sense of visual ease and pleasure. Rather than being uniformly applied, the orange tone appears in points, surfaces, and objects, subtly permeating the space and guiding emotional movement along the circulation path.
The selection of vintage furniture and lighting further enhances the delicacy and lightness of the space. Vibrant colors, slender lines, and rounded forms appear agile against the industrial backdrop. These details do not dominate; instead, through rhythmic distribution, they create emotional nodes that enrich the spatial experience with layers of atmosphere.
In this project, the greatest effort was not spent on what to build, but on what to retain.
We insisted on keeping the terrazzo flooring—not for any functional reason, but simply because of its beauty and character. It did, however, bring considerable challenges: re-leveling was required, and transitions between old and new had to be handled meticulously. Yet when sunlight falls across its surface, the gentle sheen makes it all worthwhile.
The same approach applied to the walls. The original factory walls were uneven, marked by impacts and traces of past structures—elements we were unwilling to erase. To preserve these textures, we repeatedly tested different paint applications, eventually finding that “just right” state: not smooth and perfect, but comfortably mottled and naturally rough.
There is also a partially demolished wall. Originally a non-structural partition, we chose not to remove it entirely. Instead, half was dismantled, exposing the brickwork and leaving behind a raw, broken edge. Seated nearby, guests can vaguely sense what once existed on the other side. Sightlines are sometimes blocked, sometimes allowed to pass through—this ambiguity becomes one of the most intriguing spatial moments.
Within the original structural framework, we retained the material textures and industrial memory of the factory, allowing its sense of time to continue speaking. The newly introduced elements, by contrast, lean toward softness and vintage qualities—materials, textures, and tones with a handcrafted, human warmth that bring life into the space.
The juxtaposition of the factory’s rugged surfaces with newly added metal mesh structures and vintage furnishings is not about contrast, but about layering time. Through this coexistence, rough and refined, old and new, cool and warm enter into dialogue, expanding the space beyond a singular “industrial” identity into a more inclusive temporal richness.
Looking back, what gratifies us most is not any grand design gesture, but the elements we chose not to demolish—those became the most moving parts of the space.
SISA Restaurant is not simply a renovation of an industrial building, but a setting that flows between “past” and“present”. It preserves the memory of the original architecture while continuously generating new experiences through daily use. The industrial framework provides order, the vintage character brings warmth, and color and light allow emotions to unfold.
We hope SISA is not just a place to dine, but a place where people are willing to linger—to perceive, to exchange, and to live within a moment of time. It carries the weight of history while embracing present-day sensibilities; it holds both the strength of industry and the softness of life.