Wanderings: 榕樹頭 (Yung Shue Tau)

Temple street (廟街) in Yau Ma Tei is well-known to tourists, but thankfully hasn't been overwhelmed by their visits, managing to retain a strong local presence and character. It resembles Tung Choi Street/Ladies' Street in Mong Kok; except Temple Street is also known as Men's Street. Which isn't to say that the merchandise of these street markets are limited by its gendered name. Ladies' Street does have a mountain of handbags (no guarantees on the authenticity of such goods. I must say that they aren't as blatant with their knockoffs now as they were then), but also offers fruit, electronic items, cell phone accessories, beach towels, stuffed animals, etc. And while Temple Street focuses more on male clothing, you'll still find stalls that sells pretty much everything in between. The enterprising mind won't be limited by geography...

Another notable difference between Ladies' Street and Temple Street is that the latter area provides a gathering ground for many of the city's elderly. Particularly Yung Shue Tau (榕樹頭), a public square at the heart of Temple Street, named for the banian (banyan) fig trees situated within. During the day it is frequented by ah baks sitting together for a conversation or a game of chess. In the evenings, the fortune tellers and other vendors emerge to cater to a bigger, and more diverse, crowd. Unlike the rest of Temple Street, it provides a stage for Cantonese Opera street shows, and live singers...(funnily enough, live singers are also taking to the streets on Sai Yeung Choi Street South in Mong Kok, just next to Ladies' Street/Tung Choi Street. Another parallel between the Ladies' and Men Streets?)

Judging from the Tin Hau temple there (the namesake of Temple Street), you can discern that the Yung Shue Tau area has a fishing-based heritage. The area has a long history, probably back when the Qing dynasty was still in control of China. I'll guess that the boundaries of this public square wasn't as well defined back then as it is today; the major roads (Shanghai Street, Public Square Street, etc.) currently surrounding the square didn't emerge until the mid-to-late 20th century, and now limits the possibility for spatial expansion. Photos below, with some lengthily captions: 

Old people socializing; who needs facebook when you can talk face-to-face? (And no, facetime does not count)

Tin Hau temple, actually a huge complex of other temples including a now-defunct Hsu Yuen (translates as 'study hall'. These are the predecessor to the current schools in Hong Kong. Once there was an established education system in the late 1800s, they were rendered obsolete. This one is currently a place for fortune tellers to set up their stalls.) They were constructed by local fishermen in 1865, and was finally relocated to their current site at 1876. Asides from the Tin Hau temple in this photo, there is also Shea Tan, Fook Tak Tze, and Shing Wong. More details of the latter in the next photo.

Surprisingly enough, few people realize that this temple is different from the Tin Hau temple next to it. The 城隍廟 (Chenghuang Temple/ Shing Wong Temple; differences in romanization depends on the area where these temples are found.The former was used in Shanghai, the latter in Hong Kong) roughly translates to 'City God Temple' and is fairly prevalent in most major cities that have a strong following of Chinese folk spiritual beliefs. The 城隍, or City God, is a class of deities in Chinese mythology that offer protection over the city (protection ranging from personal to communal concerns...and all kinds of disasters such as drought.) It is not to be confused with the more localized and familiar 土地公, which in itself is a huge topic, better explored in a later post...

The establishment date of the first Shing Wong temple is a bit confused; wikipedia says 1877 and locates it at Shau Kei Wan on Hong Kong Island, the Tung Wah Group (a charitable group in charge of managing some temples in Hong Kong) credits the 榕樹頭 temple of Yau Ma Tei for 1865. Either way, it is interesting to note that both dates are after the city has been colonized. Before the British arrived in 1841, most major Chinese cities had their own City God. Except for Hong Kong, since the place could hardly be considered a city at the time... 

Buildings spotted around the area; this corner house is an old fashioned restaurant, famous for its retro fittings

More old buildings, love how they are so colourful. Hong Kong is home to a multitude of buildings in shades of pink, purple, green...all colours of the rainbow (and Choi Hung Estate in Kowloon really does have a rainbow palette...since 'Choi Hung' translates to rainbow.) 

One entrance to Temple Street, just before the stalls open for the day. I'm pretty sure this is a new fixture, though the reasons for installing it here (or now) remains unknown. Is it akin to those efforts one sees in the Chinatowns of Sydney and London that try to make these areas more 'Asian', to appeal to the tourist mindset? (And is it ironic that with this 'gate' in place, that it reminds me more of Chinatowns in overseas locales, than it does of any other place in Hong Kong?)

Trivia! You won't find the area by typing its name into googlemaps (the closest it'll take you is to Ngau Tau, off Lamma Island.) Yung Shue Tau is a name used amongst locals, so if you ask around they will know how to give directions there. You can also find it where Shanghai Street intersects with Public Square Street. 


-----------------------


The street is the favourite seedy place of our imaginations in Hong Kong. Some of us were told not to venture to Temple Street alone during our childhoods, which fuelled the perception of dodgy happenings in that area. (It isn't as though Ladies' Street is crime-free, but it just feels as though the crimes committed there lack the gravity of those at Temple Street. Maybe Ladies' Streets seems more 'open' and 'approachable' because it is better connected to the main transport links...) The rumours about gang extortion of money from Temple Street vendors didn't help (hey, even Hong Kong films made Temple Street look like the romping grounds for gangs), nor did the evenings news a couple of years back featuring the street as the site of an acid attack 'from the sky' (someone threw a jar of acid from one of the many high rise flats in the area.) Sex toy stalls made the area look almost like the red-light district of Amsterdam, albeit the Hong Kong version looking more disorderly (and without the overt displays by prostitutes.) And then several months ago, during a dinner conversation, I overheard a story about these sex toys being sold-then-resold to unwary customers...without being cleaned in between transactions. Probably a fabrication, but this is the stuff urban myths are made of. 

Musings: The Hubris of Hipster Hubs?

This musing is inspired by a post on the Chai Wan hipster scene on the Tasty Treats blog. The writer is a friend of mine who specializes on food-related postings, but don't let that fool you onto thinking that is of limited scope. Afterall, in the field of anthropology, the role of food is often pivotal in many social interactions; thus it led her to write a piece about the nuances of 'hipster enclaves' in this city. She offers an excellent examination on the merits of having these enclaves around, as well as the potential issues they may bring. Although my previous post was appreciative of hipster hubs around Hong Kong, such as that of Sheung Wan, I must confess that I too find this aforementioned 'hip-ness' a draw and a drawback (the simultaneous embodiment of contradictory states of being; the zenith of hip!) 

The road to hipster hub of Sheung Wan

Some of my frustrations during visits to Sheung Wan are trivial. For example, after trekking uphill hoping to enjoy a cup of tea at a cafe, I find the cafe closed without prior notice (though in retrospect, it makes sense. Hipsters don't follow conventional understandings and flows of time.) Or when there are so many other hipsters and their brethren who linger around, making the area rather packed at times...and dare I say, render the area almost mainstream. Or the nasty feeling that develops when you realize how another individual has done the seemingly impossible; out-hip you with their clothes, their attitude, their speech...


Beyond these superficial issues, there exist a sense of dissatisfaction regarding the state of hipster hubs, especially in the way in which they present themselves as an 'alternative' to the chain franchises rampant in the city these days. I can't help but wonder; after setting up a series of independent shops in an area to create this 'hip' impression, what is next? Is there actually a concerted effort on the part of these shops to push and encourage others to follow in their footsteps of establishing small joints to combat the prevalence of chain franchises? (Is this even their motivation at all...or does it matter in the first place?) And if they are to act in opposition to the latter category, just how do these spaces embody a creative [re]invention of how businesses can be run in this city? Are they really an alternative? 

Another concern of mine would be the ephemeral nature of such hipster hubs. As Tasty Treats mentions, independent shops in these areas tend to be short-lived in light of high rents. They come, they go, and often without any outcry or notice from the locality. It seems to be a cycle that is repeated endlessly, an abstract form of limbo. I think for these places to become sustainable, not only must they be financially viable, but it must make themselves rooted to the area itself; to develop a presence, and a meaning, to the people who live around them. 

Tai Ping Shan Street, an example of a thriving hipster hub

The development of 'rootedness' is complicated and problematic, and I'll try to illustrate this using Tai Ping Shan Street. On the infrastructural level, the new establishments preserve the format of pre-existing businesses and residence buildings.The newer cafes and galleries are situated next to older scrap metal collection shops; there are no sudden high-rises and obscenely shiny façades to be found, bringing a degree of visual coherence between the new and the old. Despite this, I suspect there remains a sense of disconnect; to what extent are these new spaces used by, and engages with, the locals who have resided in the area for years? For example, there are a lot of locals and workers munching down pork chop rice meals at an old-fashioned diner at the bottom of the staircase, but not so much at Teakha (the old men I encountered in the area could only tell me that the tea shop 'opens late'. And during all my visits, it is frequented by young professionals and students.) Is it because there is a lack of repertoire between these new places with the old; a case where you can't force a sense of community or a connection to develop just by suddenly planting yourself to a place? Is it a matter of these new places not offering what the old-timers need? Or is it due to pragmatic issues such as price, since the newer places charge higher sums in order to survive in this city of insane land rent? (Thinking along this vein, would these new hip places eventually push out the older small businesses in the area, or change the profile of the local demography towards that of young professionals; thus unwittingly forcing a unexpected form of gentrification to occur? Maybe this outlook is far-fetched and a tad extreme...) 

Teakha offers nice drinks, albeit at a higher price than the traditional dai pai dongs (大牌檔, the traditional inexpensive Hong Kong diners that are becoming increasingly scarce) and cha chaan tengs (茶餐廳, restaurants that serve tea and can have menus encompassing Western, Chinese, and 'mixed' dishes.)

Another form of 'rootedness' would emphasise the local as opposed to the international. To what extent does the current string of modern independent shops reflect local Hong Kong culture? Many galleries and cafes in these hipster areas are like those found across the globe. Once you enter one of these spaces in Hong Kong, does it feel any different than if you were in Sydney or London? It could be an innocent intention, such as the creators of such spaces wanting to bring a different experience to their patrons; or it could call to a persisting subconscious/conscious recognition of overseas locales being the harbingers of 'culture'. 


I'm not sure if the lack of local character for many of these hipster spaces is deliberate, but it cannot be denied that there has been a long-running worship of the international in the Hong Kong psyche. It is maybe a remnant from the days of colonial rule where speaking English was coveted, or maybe due to the continued proliferation of 'foreign knowledge' in our education systems that has created a misguided myth of the cultural apex that exists 'elsewhere'. (Looking at the university curriculum, the names Marx, Foucault, Bourdieu, Wittgenstein, Arendt crop up. Not as extensive a roster from the Asian region.) Heck, it could even have something to do with the media we are exposed to, or the 'transient refugee mentality' of the city's heritage that left a mark of cultural 'inferiority'. (I've had the occasion to meet a researcher at Hong Kong University who once told me that Hong Kong 'has no culture'; by no means representative of the stance of academia on this issue, but it was scary to know that there are people that think like this. And in a quick survey conducted by Wooferten after taking the Yau Ma Tei locals to ArtWalk 2012 in Central, many of the attendees reckoned that there were more Europeans as opposed to Asians that evening because the former had a higher standard of 'cultural education'.) 


Whatever the reason, the majority of the population has easily allocated local diners, such as cha chaan tengs and dai pai dongs, as 'low-culture' venues, and having a cup of coffee in Starbucks is a vague symbol alluding to 'high-culture'. (Though it isn't as bleak as I just made it sound. There are increasing numbers of young people who visit the former for the sake of a novelty experience, or to understand more about Hong Kong history. Or maybe they just like the cheaper prices...) And for those hipster hub shop owners, even if you are not literally situated in the 'cultured international', having your space be designed to have semblance to that ideal is just as good. But referring to what I was trying to get at earlier; if an independent space focuses too much on the international at the expense of the local, it will limit its impact and meaning on the local social narrative. When such a space is threatened with closure, will the locals fight to protect it like they would for landmarks such as Sunbeam Theatre in North Point? Will they continue to remember its existence, and mourn for it after it is gone? 

Abandoned kitties...and abandoned culture of locality?

But if we wish to bring the 'local' into hipster hubs, this poses a new set of questions in itself. Just how can we go about doing this, and would it necessarily make these independent businesses unique to the point where their survival and propagation can be cemented into this urban landscape? Or does the creation of a hipster hub necessitate an international face superseding the local character, given that the 'hipster experience' in itself is an entity imported from overseas? (There are even jokes made about the possible ethnic group associations with the hipster way of living...see Stuff White People Like, for starters.) Should we thus discard this notion of 'hip' and the ideals of the hipster? And to ask even broader questions, what does local Hong Kong culture look like anyways...how do we understand culture for that matter?


For all these concerns, however, there are existing examples that shows how the mentality of 'cultureless Hong Kong' is changing. In the recent edition of Ming Pao Weekly #2275, there is a piece about a shop in Kowloon that transforms the Hong Kong iconic red-white-blue bag material into trendier items of modern convenience. And there were plenty of young people at the JCCAC handicrafts fair to show that there can exist a balance between the international and the local; to appropriate the techniques and cultural practices from abroad to create products that evokes locality.  Not to mention how Hidden Agenda, a performing and exhibition space in Kwun Tong, manages to place equal importance on inviting a good range of local and international bands/artists. So maybe the local and the international emphasis don't have be juxtaposing categories, and a balance between the two is attainable. 


Okay, so I guess my beef can be summed up as; these hipster hoods can't only be about the appearance, but they must have substance and thought to it. A simple statement that somehow needed several paragraphs to articulate. 


Despite all the grumblings and judgement coming from me (the latter being a hallmark of all hipsters-in-training), hipster hubs really are lovely places to go and remove yourself from the hectic pace that the rest of Hong Kong follows. And my misgivings about hipster hubs can be mollified under a holistic perspective; no matter how problematised such areas may be, for now, they do offer a reprieve from the increasingly uniformed face of shop fronts in current Hong Kong. 

Neighbourhood: Sheung Wan

Sheung Wan is an established hipster-hood in Hong Kong, covered by many publications and blog posts. Not only will you find the antiques market and temples (that hipsters love for its cultural allusions, and tourists love for the photo ops) Sheung Wan is home to many independent small-scale shops. You have your art galleries, design studios and offices, and cafes meant for hours of deep contemplation and scribbling away on Moleskine notebooks. The area also has one of my favourite places; The Coming Society on the first floor of 222 Queens Road Central, offering a good selection of Chinese and English second-hand books (and unlike some fussy chain bookshops like Page One, you're allowed to sit in a wingchair and read the books without the obligation to buy!) It is thanks to these small shops that help give a youthful and hip vibe to the area.

That being said, the entire area of Sheung Wan isn't all hip. Close to the main thoroughfares are the department stores of Wing On and Sincere, there lurks Starbucks and other major chain shops found throughout the rest of Hong Kong, and there are rows of shiny business offices providing an air-conditioned sanctuary of power-suit people. (Not to mention that the Beijing Liaison Office is a little more to the west of Sheung Wan, which could knock all the points off the hipster-scale for any area. But the Office is almost out of Sheung Wan and in Sai Wan, so the area's repute can still be salvaged...) Yet it is precisely the existence of these buildings that serve to offset the parts of Sheung Wan that are different and 'hip', allowing one to be even more appreciative of their presence.

This hipness radiates from the epicentre of Tai Ping Shan street. (If you are unhip and require the patronage of the huge MTR corporation to shuttle you to Sheung Wan, it is a bit of an uphill walk to get there. Not unreachable, but still sweat inducing. For an 'easier' time, get off the MTR at Central station, walk to the SoHo escalators, take it up until Hollywood Road, and head westwards to Sheung Wan. Shouldn't take more than 20 minutes.)  I'll leave my personal thoughts on this area (and hipster hubs in general) for the next post. For now, some snaps of the street and its surrounding areas:

Weekend: Demonstrations (我們都是李旺陽)

Demonstrations in Hong Kong are one of the most common means of expressing a message within the local political scene. They are different from demonstrations in many other countries; in the sense that in this city, they are perceived as being incredibly peaceful and orderly. Despite this image being challenged given the [understandable and oft misconstrued portrayals of*] conflicts with police in recent years, demonstrations remain almost a weekly affair, but they tend to be of small-to-moderate scale (a turn-out of around a hundred to a thousand people), and of specific scope in their demands. This plethora of protests is thanks to the fragmented political and social scene in Hong Kong, where individual groups voice their own interests which may exclude and alienate the sympathies of others. This is pretty consistent throughout the year, save for large-scale happenings such as the candlelight vigil of the 4th of June and the annually-expected 1st of July protests. 


But there are occasionally events that occur which temporarily puts aside the differences of many political parties (sans DAB. Always sans DAB.) and draws large numbers of people onto the streets; in this instance, the 'suicide' of activist Li WangYang who was imprisoned in the mainland for two decades and was found dead under suspicious circumstances.


As if the suicide wasn't dodgy enough as it is, sentiments of anger precipitated in Hong Kong after the CCP issued a series of answers and explanations that did not....answer or explain anything. (Avoiding the jokes that Hong Kong people watch way too much CSI to be easily accepting of the obscured conditions of Li's death, even foreign tourists in Wan Chai said that there was no way Li could have killed himself based on the scant imagery that has been circulating online. The international community knows...) The obvious questions have been circulating in the media and social networks; why would a man with no intention for suicide suddenly take his own life? Where would he even get the rope to hang himself? How does a visually-impaired person with limited mobility manage such a feat anyways, especially since it could be assumed that he was under the watch of CCP officials since his release from prison? These questions aren't the most ire-invoking matter; it is the CCP's contradictory practice. Promising an open inquiry but immediately cremating the body of Li, and monopolizing access to the surveillance recordings to Li's room. Cutting off contact between friends of the Li family, and those who promised to aid in their search for truth. (Check out the Wall Street Journal blog for a more fleshed-out account on the happenings.)


Hong Kong people don't have the answers, and any ideas offered will remain speculation. But they can demand for transparency and for the facts to be made clear; they can show their horror at the maltreatment of activists in the mainland; they can pay their respects to the man who fought for the recognition of the killings on the 4th of June 1989. And so this weekend, the inhabitants of this city made their feelings towards this matter be known, and took to the streets under the theme of  '我們都是李旺陽' (translates to 'We are also Li WangYang'. Over a dozen organizations and parties banded together for the demonstration; I opted to partake with Art Citizens, a group formed by local artists and people concerned with the arts. (They debuted last year in the protest calling for the freedom of Ai Wei Wei, and also on the 1st of July 2011 against police demands for no music to be played during the annual protest.) Check out the photos:

Starting from East Point Road in Causeway Bay 

White shirts, white banners, white flowers; a funeral procession 

Blindfolded and waving banners with poems written on them

People from the group marching behind Art Citizens. It was a hot day, and there were many standstills during the march, so it very tiring

During one of the longer standstills just before reaching the Beijing liaison offices. The entire street was packed (can't see all of the people in this photo because many of them were around the corner where the main road was), and I'm pretty sure that the police estimate of 5,400 attendees is fairly off.    

I think underlying this demonstration calling for transparency in Li's death, are deeper concerns within the Hong Kong psyche. What is the worth of a human life to the CCP these days? What is the worth of a human life to us? Can we live our lives quietly and in a docile manner knowing that the CCP has not been held accountable for their actions towards activists in China? How long will it take before the CCP will acknowledge 1989, and how long till the democratic ideals from 1989 realize itself into Hong Kong? Will the imprisonment and mistreatment of activists in the mainland be a glimpse of what is to come in Hong Kong? Can we move away from being a city only concerned with economic development and towards being one guided by a sense of morality?


-----------------------------------


*the idea of 'disorderly protesters' who 'instigate' and 'provoke' conflict is a dangerous myth. It needs not mentioning the issue of media bias, selective reporting, and the recognition of the media as a corporation out to sell a story using the most eye-catching images. You do have a tiny number of people in the crowds who are egging for trouble with the police, and they are responsible for their own actions. But if you have been near that situation the first thing that happens is that fellow protesters will talk the individuals involved down from open conflict. 


Sometimes (or better to say oftentimes) it is the Hong Kong police that overreacts, leading to scuffles; they say that protesters are 'violent' and pepper-spray them, but what is this 'violence' they speak of? Shaking a few police barricades? Trying to resist against the oft-unreasonable restrictions imposed by police to the demonstrations route? The definition of 'violence' employed by the Hong Kong police has a pretty low threshold, especially when you compare with the 'violence' that occurs around the world. (And looking back at the debacle of the HKU 100 celebrations, where police confined students in the campus stairwell, what was the supposed offence of the affected students? The simple act of shouting for democracy on campus grounds during the mainland vice-premier's visit.) 


Not saying that the Hong Kong police should be painted in an antagonistic role; many them do try to be helpful, keeping protesters away from passing traffic and keeping in communication with the protest organizers to ensure that things are going along as planned for both sides. (And I won't even hazard a guess into the sort of conflicts they go through trying to juggle what their jobs demand and wheretheir personal sympathies lie.) But then you have police officers doing this sort of thing: check out this video on youtube showing how a police officer grabbed the head of a youth protester who was turned away. Completely unwarranted, unjustifiable, and unfortunately for the sake of all, unnoticed in the mainstream for now. For a police force that is so against 'violent measures', they sure don't have an issue employing it for their use. 

Musings: the Seeds of Creativity

Just a quick sketch that is loosely based on the happenings in Hong Kong these days, especially the issue of the government trying to push for a copyright law this July, in the interest of 'protecting creative property'.

Hong Kong does need some form of a copyright law, I have no issue admitting to this. But not one that is poorly drafted, poorly explained, and offers no clear delineation as to the material it covers. (And always be in doubt of a proposed law when the government resorts to the sales pitch of "pass the law now, we'll sort through the details later.")


Although not explicitly mention by the government (then again, when does the HK government ever issue a fully transparent statement?) one can't help but feel as though this law is an attempt to muffle one important avenue of political expression in this city; that of parody. Parody (known as 惡搞) is a way for it's users to attain the ability to voice out a critical-- and oft opposing-- viewpoint towards something purported by the mainstream and/or the authorities. The key elements of this involves humour and a degree of abstract representation of the issues at hand, which makes it easy to 'consume' for the wider public (as opposed to providing a hardline statement which may turn people away. A very likely case in Hong Kong), and offers a degree of protection from persecution as long as all references remain indirect. (Think of the role of parody as akin to the court jester of the medieval courts. It may be appear as a trivial role of entertainment, but jesters are protected from whatever they say due to their status as a bearer of humour. Thus these jesters are vital when it comes to conveying news that may not be savory for those who listen-- for example the 14th century French royal court heard about their defeat in a naval battle with the English after the jester hinted at their loss through a joke. No other official dared to speak up lest they incur the wrath of the royals-- and were an important mouthpiece for the difficult-to-stomach truths.)


So just how rampant is parody in Hong Kong, and what form do parodic works take? Unsurprisingly, given the proliferation of the Internet in most Hong Kong homes, it is mostly online. And thanks to social networks, it is easily spread to a mass audience, and most works are well receive by them. There are a lot of popular culture references (possibly due to the age of the parodic work maker and the destined audience), some of the most popular being movie posters from local Hong Kong cinema and Hollywood. A fantastic example emerged a month or so ago, when the faces of The Avengers poster was replaced with those of unpopular government officials (the lineup includes Fan, Leung, Lam, etc.) under the aptly renamed team of The Suppressors. Another great poster had the face of Tang superimposed on the poster for The Iron Lady with a caption for 'selling the wife' (a pun that makes sense in the Chinese version of the poster), a response to Tang's wife facing the media for the illegal basement structure debacle. And then there are the numerous versions of Leung's face being superimposed on chairman Mao's propaganda posters, alluding to Leung's ties with the communist party...


But the ability to link an issue at hand, and the people involved, to another piece of existing work that allows for a comedic representation of all these elements is a skill in itself. Can one not say that this process of visual articulation is in itself a valid form of creativity? And if so, does this not render moot the need to combat parodic works under the guise of 'protecting creative property'? (So where does the the justification of a copyright law lie? That the makers of parodic works don't give credit to the creators of the original piece? Would issuing a disclaimer/attributing credit resolve such an issue? And to what extent will the parodic work have to differ from the original material to avoid such a necessity, in the sense that the parodic work becomes something 'new' in its own right?)


But asides from speculating what this law will do to the parody scene, the notion of 'creativity' in itself needs to be examined. The argument in support for the law proposed by the government is lacks an understanding of the issues of 'creativity'. As pointed out in June's edition of CUP magazine (check out pages 65-67), even works of seeming originality can trace its 'inspiration' from an older work. Has there ever been something such as 'pure originality', something that makes no reference from another work and emerged in its own totality? Is this feat even possible, given how most individuals of this society are bound to be exposed to the works of others on a conscious and unconscious level? How do we, and how should we, understand and define 'creativity' at all?


I think, the problem is in how we determine whether the link between two pieces of work is that of acceptable 'inspiration' or that of exploitative 'plagiarism*'. (Plagiarism within writing and academic work is easy to define and identify. Same goes for evident plagiarism such brand-name knock-offs you see in Fa Yuen Street. In these examples there is a direct one-to-one replication of the traits embodied by the original, and a matter of personal gain. The problem is the application of this term to works that make a reference to another in a manner of 'allusion'.) Is there a spectrum in which to measure whether a piece or work fluctuates from one label to the other? I'm not sure what the criteria for judgement is, but it is certain that this is not something that should be determined by the government.


So leave parody alone, Hong Kong government. And do what you do best; continue to supply people with abundant material to continue the making of parodic works.


-----------------------------------


*I also find plagiarism to be problematic from a cultural standpoint. In some Asian societies (also applicable to the old painting masters of Europe), the art tradition is passed through a process of copying, reproducing, imitating existing work as a means to refine and hone skill sets. It was/is considered a legitimate means of propagating the art discipline. And imitation itself can be considered to be a form of flattery and a show of appreciation in certain contexts. In present day Japan, you have fanart being sent to authors of popular manga and anime works, with some authors thanking their fans and even publishing such works for public viewing. Doujinshi (a fan-made manga volume) may sometimes appropriate the characters of another piece of work for use in a different setting, but there seems to be little qualms about this issue.

Event: 這一代的六四

For the older generations in Hong Kong who witnessed June 4th 1989 through real-time feed from the media, it leaves an emotive memory even twenty three years later. But for the younger generations, such as those born in the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, what does June 4th mean for them? Children of these three decades were too young-- and perhaps not even born yet-- to have had the emotional and memory capacity to remember and feel the implications of 1989.


only learning about it through oral narratives from older family members, the calls from democratic political parties (don't be fooled by the Democratic Alliance for the Betterment of Hong Kong, the DAB, despite them having the word 'Democratic' in their name. They are incredibly pro-Beijing, and in 2007 their ex-chairman Ma Lik tried to play down the killings that took place in Tiananmen), the media, and from the internet. Unlike in mainland China, the term '六四' (Chinese for June 4th) is not taboo, nor risky to use in the face of authorities; one could say that the current youths grew up alongside this term, and thus June 4th is cemented within the youth psyche. 

But what exactly does June 4th mean for youths? Without bearing direct witness and only relying on secondary sources, can the meanings from 1989 transcend into the present day? Or is it even important to keep the same meaning from the past; can the youths of today's Hong Kong create their own connection towards June 4th? (And is it enough to just be aware of the killings, and not to engage with it?)

This is what some Hong Kong youths try to address; one such effort manifests as an art performance on the streets of Causeway Bay, known as 這一代的六四. (Having to use the phrase 'art performance' as a way of describing it shows the limitations of the English language. The word 'performance' denotes a show meant for an audience, and contains a degree of entertainment value. The Chinese phrase used is '街頭藝術活動' which can be roughly translated to 'action of art' on the streets.) This is its third year in the running, where a group of youths (and some non-youths with a youthful spirit) with and without art training will stand on the street for two hours expressing their views and understanding of June 4th. There are a range of different art practices at play; performative art, contemporary dance, choir song, poetry reading, and paintings placed on the roadside for view. 

Some displays leaned towards the literal (harkening to the imagery of the Tiananmen tanks), others more abstract. Some worked together in groups, others alone. Some appeared to be a commentary on the killings and repression of 1989, others touching upon a more personal narrative. Some spoke of Beijing, others transcended the matter of site and focused on the practices of the Hong Kong mentality. Check out some photos:

People who encountered this performance may not necessarily understand or interpret what is going on (nor will I profess to have encompassing insight about all of it either), but then it seems superficial to assume that the various happenings of the night is only devoted to the entertainment or gratification of the passing public. (And so leads to a much bigger issue of about the nature of art itself, and the state of art education in Hong Kong...topics that I'm nowhere near qualified to ramble on about.) 


The street performance shouldn't be construed as a separate way of remembering June 4th, breaking away from the annual candlelight vigil at Victoria Park organized by formalized organizations, institutions, and political parties; many of the performers will also take part in that as well (this art event took place on the 3rd of June, so that there will be no clashes.) You could call it a supplement to the more 'mainstream' ways of remembering 1989, allowing a new avenue to explore and interact with this bit of unresolved history. 

People: Mr. Henry Wong

Given how antisocial I tend to be, I'm not sure if there will be many more posts under this 'people' heading. But that doesn't mean there are plenty of interesting individuals out in Hong Kong to meet. One of them would be Mr. Henry Wong, who also signs his work as 本地薑 (translates roughly as 'Local Ginger'.) 

I met him by chance back in May 2011, during a random visit to Wooferten in Yau Ma Tei, and encountered him during protests and other events around the city. He is a good representative of the mindset for many Hong Kong people; maintaining a day job but also yearning to find an outlet to express their political viewpoints. Mr. Wong chose to fulfil the latter need by creating witty and humourous t-shirts.

Each shirt is produced in limited numbers, and is specific to the happenings in Hong Kong at a given time. For example, there was a shirt for the salt-buying-scare during the Fukushima radiation leak in March 2011, and another covering the Chief Executive elections this March and April. The images aren't abstract, nor are they literal; it requires the use of brain cells to interpret the layers of meaning and Chinese wordplay. (Which is a difficult for me, since my Cantonese is bad enough on the surface level without even delving into the world of Chinese puns.) If one ever have the fortune to encounter Mr. Wong, he'll be more than happy give a step-by-step explanation to anyone who is interested. Though he would prefer if one took a stab and attempted to interpret it first; and one should do so, since we already live in a culture where images give us instant gratification. Being made to think for ourselves is a refreshing reversion to the pre-mass media and pre-advertising image proliferation days....


Mr. Wong will attend certain protests and events where he sells his shirts. There isn't a fixed price on them, since profit and money isn't his motivation. During the last encounter, he told a small group of youths that he spent roughly 40,000 HKD on this endeavour already, and will continue to do so because it is his 'hobby' and something he is truly passionate for. And he is sincere about his lack of emphasis on money; in my experience, he has never pestered anyone with immediate payment. (Though it doesn't mean he is flippant about money either; I gave him 20 HKD ages ago, and he still remembers-- even though I had forgotten-- and gave me some of his shirts this April. It is nice to know that there are still people in such an urban and mechanical city that can bring 'trust' into their interactions with others.) 

It is worth mentioning that the imagery is all drawn by Mr. Wong, who has had no formal training in the arts or with illustration. Which shows that no matter who one is, or what background one has had, does nothing to thwart the ability to contribute towards the city's diverse array of political voices.