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. 

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.


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*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.