At six-thirty in the morning, Hong Kong time, an old woman across the lightwell down on 15 woke me with a more than just a clearing of the throat. She was really letting go, rattling her lungs with expectorant coughs and wheezes. I know where the sounds came from because I moved to 15 after a couple of days up on 16. Thus the following morning it was even louder and a little earlier, but the room (if only the size of the bed) is clean and has four minutes of warm water in the shower wand over the toilet. Luxurious. No, really.
This is Chunking Mansion, a 16-floor “rabbit-warren” of Guesthouses, Indian and Pakistani restaurants, small electronics stores, internet “cafes”, convenience stores and one perpetually closed women’s underwear store. This so-called mansion is right in the center of Kowloon, a vast shopping and tourist district with no shortage of brand name and imitation brand name anything for sale. Indian men bark at foreigners about tailored suits and Rolexes, while crisp, white fluorescent-washed storefronts with chrome borders sit under enormous, colorful flickering signs that cantilever over the street, advertising anything you can buy. It’s the kind of space for making a purchase, preferably something shiny and new. Consumer space.
For my cell phone, I opted for a shop in the Chunking. Just outside this 8’ x 10’ shop within the Chunking a steady stream of new and used cell phones are unpacked, unwrapped and set on display by a group of Pakistani men. They must sell thousands of phones a month to foreigners like me, which is high volume for such a small outfit, but the wholesale market is probably ten times as strong. During my stay at the second guesthouse, a Nigerian man was crowding the small lobby with 12 large boxes filled with around 3000 cell phones in all. International small-scale businessmen come in, buy loads of electronics and then cart them back single-handedly to their respective countries. Plus, it’s the Chinese New Year (the year of the rat!), a shopping frenzy, so everyone is buying anything they can get their sale-sifting hands on.
Which sheds light on one small aspect of modern China – many of those cell phones, or at least many parts of them are made here, and thanks to marketplaces like this one most of them are also used in the mainland. China – known for all things immense – has a purported 200 million cell phone subscribers and makes up one quarter of the world’s cell phone consumer market. Trying to measure the immensity makes me think of an exhibit back in the Guggenheim in New York where a pile of cell phones, all turned on, lay in the center of the atrium producing a heat wave tangible at twice the diameter of the pile itself. Or for a two-dimensional comparison, if an average cell phone is about 2” x 4”, 200 million cell phones laid flat measure over 11,000,000 square feet, or almost a half square mile. Cell phone companies are steadily producing.
Hong Kong is harnessing the global cell phone culture and linking it to the city’s tourist sites. It’s a sort of orienting device that brings the cell phone back into the physical realm, or at least creates relationships between the information it disposes and the tangible thing before you. Architects and artists have been hurling these ideas around for some time, but Hong Kong, along with a few other international cities, is experimenting with the system.
Though one can presumably gather select information about the Hong Kong region from Buddha sculptures to iconic skyscrapers, the application falls short of anything more than one of those banana-shaped audio guides at a museum near you. Instead, just travel on the area’s modern region’s extremely modern urban infrastructure.
A continually growing system of roads, bridges, buses, trains and ferries has linked Hong Kong (Special Administrative Region – SAR) with the surrounding areas of Kowloon (tourist area to the north), Lantau (tourist area to the west), the New Territories (relatively unpopulated with recreational arena), Macau (former Portuguese colony meets Atlantic City of the East - pictured below), Shenzhen (Special Economic Zone – SEZ) and Zhuhai (SEZ). It’s an economically complex region - China’s richest, but despite this, maybe not it’s prettiest.
SHENZHEN
Crossing the border from Hong Kong (the New Territories actually) into mainland China is an abrupt transition. Because of Hong Kong’s history as a trading post under British rule and its return to China in 1997 as a Special Administrative Region, the area is heavily modernized and wealthy. Hop over the border into nearby Shenzhen and it’s another world. Personally I felt like it possessed some qualities I’ve read about early 20th century Shanghai, when it was deemed the “Whore of the Orient”.
Over twenty years ago Shenzhen was an old fishing village, but now it’s an industrial center recognized as one of the original frontrunners on China’s list of rapidly urbanizing cities. Thus, in China, Shenzhen is recognized as a leader of industry, urban development, shopping, etc., but my experience didn’t fit the latest glowing articles about this modern city nor some of the interesting speculative work for the city.
Just outside the train station, maybe 50 meters from the border, a straight-faced police officer pointed me in the direction of his travel service collaborators for a ticket to Guilin, attempting to charge over twice the actual price (later I bought an official ticket). After traversing a vast plaza and entering a field of high rises, one encounters dozens of offers for the proverbial massage. Shenzhen is also the weekday shopping destination for idle Hong Kong residents. They head north in the morning, hit the dense accumulation of shopping malls within a 5-kilometer radius and return before dusk. Hong Kong can feel gloomy with hazy, grey skies, but entering Shenzhen, entering China, was a different weight. Its the foremost reality of China’s urbanization – masses of rapidly produced consumer centers, industrial centers, business centers, financial centers etc., all in the form of faceless/lifeless architecture seized by a heavy, unremitting smog.
YANGSHUO
To ameliorate my bleak first impressions of China, I took a detour to Yangshuo, a small area renown for its spectacular landscapes and "quaint" villages. While nearby Guilin is developing like the rest of china Yangshuo appears to be strolling along at a comfortable pace. The quiet Li River meanders through small, sharply rising, conical hills, mirroring their every detail. Nearby, several of the country’s 55 minorities (of 56 ethnic groups) make a living, for example the Zhuang among the terraced rice fields in Lonji (aka, the Dragon’s Backbone). Also in the region are the Yao, who have a particular tradition of growing their hair tremendous lengths, beyond a meter, and then wrap it atop their heads until finding their proper suitor.
Though I would have like to have visited more remote areas in the region, including those of particular architectural interest like the Hakka roundhouses in Yongding or the traditional architecture in LiJiang, it was time to proceed to Shanghai.
SHANGHAI
It’s a 22-hour train ride from Yangshuo to Shanghai - plenty of time to develop a plan of attack for arriving at my hostel. The train came to its final destination around three in the afternoon at which time the droves of Chinese returning from Spring Festival (Chinese New Year) disembarked and I sought out the metro. It turns out the train stopped at what is a new station in southern Shanghai, not the older one, the only one my Lonely Planet guide had shown. The guide also indicates only two metro lines, with two more projected; today there are nine with many more under construction. My 2005 Lonely Planet is outdated, as is my 2006 Shanghai book, as is the Frommer’s Shanghai 2007 guide. Media can’t seem to keep up with the city’s ceaseless demolition and re-creation.
The western influences in China accelerated during the middle of the 19th century when the British were flooding China with opium imported from India. The British, among other western countries including America, had a hankering for Chinese tea, silk and porcelain, but had little to offer in return. Opium filled the trading gap and crippled Chinese culture as addiction became a nationwide problem; the Qing government responded by confiscating 20,000 chests of illegal opium and then setting them ablaze. The First Opium War ensued, the British won and the resulting Treaty of Nanking forced the Chinese to cede the island of Hong Kong and five ports (including Shanghai) for residence and trade, and basically gave foreigners free reign in these concessions. Thus from 1842, when the treaty was signed, until 1937 with the advent of World War II in East Asia, Shanghai became the center of occidental-influenced culture in China.
While the Nationalist Republic Party, the Kuomintang, slowly gained control of the Chinese territories in Shanghai, the French and Americans acquired their own concessions (the latter of which would later merge with the British to form the International Settlement) and together with the British would reshape the urban landscape of the city. Because of its size and function as a simple fishing village, Shanghai never received the attention to urban organization, such as a logical, orthogonal street pattern, prior to western settlement that other Chinese cities such as Beijing had; it was no more than a conglomeration of twisting streets of varying lengths and widths, save for the walls of the old city shaped in a large circle. Following the presence of western powers the city continued to grow organically into a mosaic of urban development, subject to the economic forces of international trade and local commerce. Each territory grew independently of one another and without a master plan or set of civic guidelines such as the Laws of the Indies used by the Spanish to build cities in Latin America.
Though no overall plan transpired, smaller localized constructions materialized with some organization, a few of which are still among the most prominent features of Shanghai’s architecture.
The most familiar presence of western influence during this period is the Bund, a wall of stone-clad buildings built in a variety of styles ranging from Art Deco to Italian Renaissance. Facing east and bordering the Huangpu River, the Bund was once the financial and commercial center of Shanghai and later assumed non-traditional, impromptu functions (during WWII the Japanese occupied some of the buildings, such as the American Club as the Japanese naval headquarters or the Hamilton House transformed into the “Enemy Aliens Office”). Many buildings on the Bund and into the former concessions still exist today, serving various institutions. Though some buildings remain empty, the collection of architecture serves as an effective reminder of the western powers that once inhabited the city.
Lilong
Another, more prolific building type built during the same period known is the lilong, or longtang in Shainghainese. The lilong, a housing typology unique to Shanghai and constructed during the period of western settlement, can be translated as “neighborhood lanes”. The lilong pattern is a combination of traditional spatial organizations native to southeastern China and the well-known Row Housing, or Terrace Housing, established in London during and after the Industrial Revolution. The typology arose from an increasing demand for a systematic housing pattern, as millions of migrants relocated to the metropolis. There are several evolutionary stages of the lilong.
The first stage, the Old Shi-ku-men (“shi” meaning stone and “men” meaning door), is characterized by a hybrid brick-and-wood structure. Individual units, arranged in rows, are organized around a south-facing courtyard space and entry, surrounded by principal communal spaces to the north, east and west. Service and private spaces are located to the north and on the second floor. The houses form a line running east-west (each row facing south), thus providing a secondary lane between each row. The organization of each individual unit and the entire south-facing row retain traditional Chinese southward-oriented public or communal spaces. The resulting pattern of solid-void – row house and lane – is the foundation for the lilong typology exclusive to Shanghai.
The second stage, the New Shi-ku-men, maintains many characteristics of the old, but is denser and more compact. Though rows and individual units still face south, the courtyard is often shifted to one side and decreased in size, while an additional story was sometimes added and rooms partitioned off for additional families. The fall of the Ming Dynasty, of Imperial China, in 1911 coincided with the dissolution of tradition extended families and thus, the New Shi-ku-men addressed the first urbanization of Shanghai wherein many small, low-income families were in need of housing. Primary and secondary lane structure is maintained in the New Shi-ku-men Lilong.
The third stage, the New-Type Lilong, includes three different models accommodating a mix of classes, namely the growing social class. During this period, the lilong saw advancements in internal performance and functions, for example bathrooms with plumbing and improved spatial arrangements like a direct entry into the kitchen from the lane, which allowed easy access and allowed one working in the kitchen to monitor children playing in the lane. The three models, constructed of brick, wood and concrete, also take advantage (to different degrees) of increased natural light and ventilation, and respond to new technologies such as the telephone and automobile. Walled gardens replaced the courtyard and the actual façade of the buildings was set back from the lane, behind the garden. While variations occur with the individual plan and outward appearance, the cohesive integrity of the urban block plan remains the same: privacy of the home, semi-private communal spaces, and the semi-public and public lanes.
The fourth stage, the Garden Lilong, takes the form of detached and semi-detached dwellings and represents a shift in the original social and spatial characteristics of the lilong typology. The creation of exterior, semi-private, semi-public and public spaces is no longer inherent to the design. Houses are either detached or semi-detached, which allows more area for light and ventilation, but increases the open space around the buildings, altering their scale and use. The Garden Lilong symbolizes the introversion of social activities associated with the residential environment; it is also interesting to note that spaces such as clubs, theaters and similar venues hosting social activities emerged in greater numbers during this period. Concurrently, the overall cohesion, the parti, of the developments loses continuity with some blocks as individual, detached units sometimes deviate from the row alignment found in earlier evolutions. The Garden Lilong is constructed of concrete and benefits from increased efficiency of internal spatial arrangements, more facilities and the exposed southward-facing garden.
The fifth and final evolution of the lilong no longer follows the original Old Shi-ku-men or British Terrace Housing horizontality. The Apartment Lilong is a vertical structure, resembling the modern apartment block with anywhere from four to six stories with two to four units per floor. They are constructed of concrete with a variety of external finishes. Apartment Lilong are dense and compact, but ultimately deviate from the ground-related lilong up to this point.
In addition to the aforementioned attributes, the first three types of lilong are often bordered by a periphery of commercial spaces contributing to the greater urban fabric. Food, clothing and other goods are available on the same block as the residences, but in the public realm. The threshold between the interior, communal spaces of the block and the exterior is found in the form of two or three gates at the periphery of the block. Even at these thresholds, these edges, small restaurants, flower shops, etc. can be found. Many of the blocks still share this relationship between the private, residential spaces and the commercial public spaces beyond.
The benefits and values featured in various publications about lilong parallel those recognized by the inhabitants. First, there is a benefit in the proximity of living to services such as restaurants, grocery stores, clothing shops, etc. found at the periphery of many blocks. In turn, the area becomes a localized and highly interactive community (I met one man who lived in his unit for over 60 years; he was in fact born in his home and knew every single resident on the block and related history). Secondly, the (original) spatial arrangements of individual units and the overall organization of rows and lanes promote an environment in which inhabitants willfully rely on each other for simple services, including community policing. Overall, the lilong typology offers a complex network of private, semi-private, semi-public and public spaces that together appear to work in sustaining community living.
In general, the lilong provided a very particular type of mixed-use development that arose from the dynamic conditions exclusive to Shanghai. The evolution of the settlement – the transition from a horizontal to a vertical construction, the dissolution of the semi-public and semi-private spaces, and the rearrangement and increased efficiency of interior spatial organizations – illustrates the frenetic period prior to WWII and later development in communist China.
Lilong were constructed in Shanghai from approximately 1842 to 1937, up to the point of the Japanese invasion at the start of WWII in East Asia. After the war, and following the exodus of Nationalists to Taiwan, Mao Tse-Tung and the new People’s Republic of China would essentially halt shanghai’s previous form of urbanization and adopt the Soviet Union’s model of socialism, which effectively abolished private enterprise. Thus, since the beginning of WWII, no additional lilongs emerged whereas apartment high-rises proliferated to accommodate the majority of the working class mobilized for the hopeful five-year plans such the Great Leap Forward beginning in 1958.
In 1962 Mao instigated the infamous Cultural Revolution in an attempt to re-instill socialist ideals in the people, and meanwhile repress capitalist values. It’s safe to say the movement was a disaster and reportedly “the most severe setback to [the] socialist cause since [1949].” Political circles turned circles and Deng Xiaopeng, the former Secretary General, led China into a period of significant political, social, economic and cultural reform following the end of the revolution. Then, from around the early 1980s, China stumbled its way into the present-day blur of ominous statistics. Did you know that purportedly…
“…60% of [China’s] projected 1.5 billion 2020 population, or 900 million people, will live in cities.”
“If the current pace of expansion continues, there will be 140 million motor vehicles on China’s roads by 2020.”
“Only 1% of the country’s 560 million city dwellers breathe air considered safe by the European Union.”
“For air quality, a major culprit is coal, on which China relies for about two-thirds of its energy needs. It has abundant supplies of coal and already burns more of it than the United States, Europe and Japan combined.”
“China has only one-fifth as much water per capita as the United States.”
“…300,000 people die each year from ambient air pollution, mostly of heart disease and lung cancer. An additional 110,000 deaths could be attributed to indoor air pollution caused by poorly ventilated coal and wood stoves or toxic fumes from shoddy construction materials.”
“…China now makes half of the world’s cement and flat glass, and about a third of its aluminum.”
“By 2005, the United States share [of steel production] had dropped to 8 percent, while China’s share had risen to 35 percent…”
“Each year for the past few years, China has built about 7.5 billion square feet of commercial and residential space, more than the combined floor space of all the malls and strip malls in the United States.”
And so on…
(DISCLAIMER: This information is out of context and taken from second-hand sources (or maybe further removed) and therefore I neither claim nor bear responsibility for their truthfulness and accuracy. Besides, once such statistics attempting to measure China’s growth and change are published, they are immediately outdated. This is only a blog after all!)
Shanghai is just one of many cities affected, if not re-created by this period of “flash-urbanization” reshaping China and thus a relevant focus for my huge, all-encompassing Rotch study of all things “global” and what notable shifts are manifest at both the city scale and building scale. It’s overwhelming, but how else does one approach understanding China’s current growth?
Today, lilong are disappearing in the wake of urbanization because these structures were not originally designed for such density; the lilong is not a realistic solution to China’s current housing challenges. Instead, Shanghai is undergoing major urban transformations that have replaced lilong and many other buildings with the universal high-rise apartment complex – typically 20 to 30 stories with parking, modernized facilities and formal security. It would seem that non-descript apartment buildings and the introverted shopping mall are the most common construction in the country today.
Of course, housing and consumer goods are necessarily supplying demand, but can China advance its approach to these challenges with a more critical architecture and urbanism? Can China keep a culture from drowning in its own mass? Can China provide extra-large solutions for its extra-large problems? It would seem a perfect opportunity for establishing evolved settlement typologies that negotiate the influx of China's city-dwellers and their needs with interesting and sustainable solutions.
