Design Anthology - Asia Pacific Edition
The Potential City
A flâneur is an urban explorer — a connoisseur of the street. In our rotating column, guests share their musings, observations and critiques of the urban environment in cities around the world. In this issue, our co-founder reflects on his journey in Hong Kong
Early on in my Hong Kong stay, a Western colleague told me he didn’t consider himself an expat. Not for him the plum executive job, expansive (by local standards) company-subsidised apartment, allowance for international school fees, and home staff. ‘I’m an economic migrant,’ he averred. This resonated with me, as I too had come to Hong Kong in search of broader opportunities.
During a mercifully short initial period of unemployment, I walked my neighbourhood and its surrounds, and noted some of the more apparent tangible aspects of the city. It’s locale-based, much like my home town of Melbourne and other favourite cities around the world; indeed, before the 15-minute city became a concept in reaction to urban sprawl, Hong Kong and other cities like it offered all necessary amenities within almost every residential area. Old and new built forms come together in a crush: the gleaming spires of Central — and now other planned ‘CBD’ developments — sit cheek by jowl with rambunctious street markets and dai pai dongs, street-level shops marked by decades-old Chinese characters and selections of traditional goods, and tenement buildings where unmarked retail and gustatory treasures await those in the know.
This familiarity led to observations of the less tangible. The city retains a strong sense of tradition alongside its headlong rush forward: an old man pushing a huge stockpot in a trolley down the middle of the street in front of a line of crawling red taxis is an enduring memory. Commerce is prominent, but the creative scene has been less visible. The constant pace, the crowds, the noise, the smells of food intermingled with air conditioning and the vibrant street life all create a place that has become a magnet for business and tourism as a perceived gateway to the Orient.
As obvious as all this may be, what has become clearer to me over my 16 years here is how the tangible and intangible influence and fuel each other: tradition holds in spite of — or perhaps partly because of — progress; street life is entrenched by small living spaces; treasures are found on upper floors due to a dearth of affordable street-level space; and public and private space alike is subject to continual informal adaptation.
Because of this dance, the city seems to exist in an eternal state of flux. Large mixed-use developments are replacing old buildings and entire neighbourhoods, but will themselves be adapted to local needs. Elsewhere, adaptive reuse is being driven from the grassroots, with former industrial buildings now housing galleries and creative workshops that take advantage of their relatively large, cheap spaces. Demographic and cultural shifts have led to more affordable areas such as Sham Shui Po attracting a growing number of young creatives and retail entrepreneurs catering to a conscious consumer base. Attention is increasingly being paid by both the government and the population at large to the importance of urban design and public space; precious little of the latter exists within the urban areas, but areas like West Kowloon are beginning to address this.
What all this means for Hong Kong is, fittingly, an open question. Whatever else may happen, it’s safe to say that the tangible and intangible will continue their pas de deux. So as much as the city will change, it will continue to exist in flux — in its own kind of enduring potentiality that continues to promise mystery and opportunity.