Read: Hong Kong Corner Houses

I was strolling across the Chinese University Bookshop when the book 'Hong Kong Corner Houses' (街頭街尾) caught my eye. (What also caught my eye was the sign next to the book saying 'discount!') The photography is by Michael Wolf, with an essay inside written by Dr. Lynne DiStefano and Dr. Lee Ho Yin, academics knowledgeable about older Hong Kong architecture. 

Niceeeeee. 

The book provides a great introduction about Corner Houses, a good foundation for one to conduct further research into the topic if necessary. 


I mentioned in a previous post (see 'Trivia: Plug-in Baby') that my hipster ambitions was to live in either a Tang Lau (唐樓) or a Corner House (街角樓). It wasn't elaborated there, but whilst these terms tend to be used interchangeably amongst a lot of people to refer to old flats in the city, they are not the same thing. The essay sets the lay-person straight by highlighting the differences between the two.

A Corner House found on Tonkin Street in Cheung Sha Wan

The lower floor of a Tang Lau, somewhere in Sham Shui Po. Spot the difference?

Both types of old buildings do have commonalities, such as the mixing of commercial and residential purposes within the same structure. But the essay elaborates on how Tang Laus served as a 'prototype' for the later-emerging Corner Houses (1950s/1960s), and details the historical context for the prominence of the latter; factoring in social issues such as rapid population growth and the changing economic production needs. Other more notable differences would be that Corner Houses, in general, appear much taller and larger than Tang Laus. 

The essay is fairly comprehensive, touching upon topics such as the illegal structures in Corner Houses, the pressures of finding space in an increasingly dense city, and the decline of these Corner Houses in later decades. There is also a nifty section about the architects of these Corner Houses, though not a lot of detail is offered. It could be because of a lack of historical documentation*, but it would have been nice to know a little bit more about the backgrounds of those who designed and created these buildings. What sort of thought processes led to the individualistic forms and shapes that is seen? What sort of influences did they have, and what inspired the use of certain motifs?  

The photography is beautiful in its simplicity. Don't expect any historical photos, the images are all based on the recent and the present. I'm not much of a photography critic/expert, but can still appreciate the way the images are composed and the lack of 'twiddling' done. By 'twiddling', I mean the way some photographers use too many filters and impose layers of stylized effects onto the original photo. Not that these techniques don't have merit, but if applied overwhelmingly to architecture photos such as these, it could remove the feeling of 'reality' and 'relatability' from the shots. These photos let the buildings 'speak for itself' (cliche! Cliche phrase!), and lets the reader see that there is beauty in the mundane sights of the everyday. Maybe the hipster in me is naturally attracted to sights of 'urban decay' and perceive laundry hung out onto the streets as a sign of 'character'. 

But the thing that worked against the book, and this may have been the entire point of the book, was its seeming 'timelessness'. Hong Kong is a city that continuously morphs and changes; whilst it is reassuring to have these Corner Houses portrayed as ubiquitous and ever-present, the reader may miss out on a holistic image of what the city is like, and what the city will become. The photos are accompanied by captions stating the technical details of the buildings (such as name, year of first occupation, address, number of floors, architect, and whether it is still standing or demolished), which feels rather cold and mechanical as a means of documenting such buildings. It would be nice to have the human narrative play a bigger role in the writing, such as accounts of what it was like to live in these houses, who lived there, and whatnot. I am inclined to think that because buildings are made by people, and for people, the 'person' should not be omitted from such accounts. 

Whatever my take is on the book, it is ultimately a beautiful volume, and definitely worth checking out. 

Book details: 'Hong Kong Corner Houses', by Michael Wolf. Published by the Hong Kong University Press, 2011. Hardcover. Priced at around 295 HKD (though with the Chinese University Bookshop discount I paid 250 HKD.) 

*historical documentation is generally a rather a shoddy practice in Hong Kong, and this is especially true for blueprints kept by the government. Not only are they sometimes missing, the copies you find might not be entirely accurate. One of my family members was asked to inspect a water main for an institution, and used the official blueprints dating back decades ago for reference on how to find it. Unfortunately, the blueprint was inaccurate; the builders at the time saw fit to move the water main 50m away from the intended spot, but no one updated the schematics for future generations. Even today, there are a lot of piping underground of Hong Kong that may not be in the place it is supposed to be....a surprise for future diggers. 

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Extra Notes:

Another spot of information of interest; many of these Tang Laus and Corner Houses are often limited in height. This could be because they are situated in the old Kai Tak airport flight zone, or it could also be a money-saving practice. The government has a policy saying that if the building is 10 floors or more, the installation of an elevator is required. Therefore, many building owners would choose to have their properties only reach the 9th floor as a means to reduce construction costs (escalators aren't cheap, especially with annual maintenance.) Though this rule is followed rather inconsistently around town...