TELEVISION Of course, one of these lives on display could be mine, too, as I live in one of these towers where there is no need to hide. I used to live in a lilong, though,which taught me to understand that this whole city is mine, and that we all form it, create it and make it breathe together. [ + ]
TELEVISION
Of course, one of these lives on display could be mine, too, as I live in one of these towers where there is no need to hide. I used to live in a lilong, though,which taught me to understand that this whole city is mine, and that we all form it, create it and make it breathe together. No need to hide. My window becomes the best possible TV, a screen showing what is happening here and now. At home, I just want to watch the city passing by my eyes.
[ - ]DIRECTIONS I had many opportunities and means to escape my high-rise compound. I could use the metro below my feet or I could go through one of the four doors embedded in the walls surrounding my compound and its garden and swimming pool, allowing me to head in any of the cardinal directions to discover Shanghai and its ever-changing colours. [ + ]
DIRECTIONS
I had many opportunities and means to escape my high-rise compound. I could use the metro below my feet or I could go through one of the four doors embedded in the walls surrounding my compound and its garden and swimming pool, allowing me to head in any of the cardinal directions to discover Shanghai and its ever-changing colours.
I might go towards the wall of a newly demolished lilong, adorned with an architect’s impression of the forthcoming compound to be built in its place. Or towards a lively existing lilong, with its restaurants and clothes hanging out to dry, a park full of people singing and dancing, or a busy street with its cyclists and mopeds transporting goods across the city.
[ - ]A SHANGHAINESE DAY 3 Before going out again to play mah-jong or carrom with three other neighbours, under the pleasant shade of the plane trees, I fetch my grandson from school. His parents arrive shortly and we all eat together, and perhaps a neighbour drops by, too. [ + ]
A SHANGHAINESE DAY 3
Before going out again to play mah-jong or carrom with three other neighbours, under the pleasant shade of the plane trees, I fetch my grandson from school. His parents arrive shortly and we all eat together, and perhaps a neighbour drops by, too. I enjoy that very much, as the more of us there are, the better we eat. I don’t like anyone to be hungry, so I get the large table out, to accommodate all the little dishes I’ve prepared. Then it’s time to watch the sunset. We eat, smoke and chit-chat. Now, the golden time begins in Shanghai. My family will take an evening walk in the park, probably already in their pyjamas, because Shanghai is our home, and we don’t relate completely to the notions of private and public. We’ll go and listen to the new open-air karaoke singer that everyone is keen to see and enjoy. He grew up in a lilong that no longer exists. Finally, I’ll go to meet my dancing partner, but, before that, I shall buy my grandson a notebook from a friend who has been selling them on the street corner for the last two weeks. She sets out her merchandise between a guy selling LED kites and another guy selling colourful socks. Later, I’ll go to sleep; tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Let’s hope the temperatures hold up tomorrow.
[ - ]WALLS AND PATHS Many books have been written about the typologies of the built space in Shanghai, in terms of form, in terms of function and even in terms of the absence of both. Many have dissected its built forms and subdivided them into many categories. [ + ]
WALLS AND PATHS
Many books have been written about the typologies of the built space in Shanghai, in terms of form, in terms of function and even in terms of the absence of both. Many have dissected its built forms and subdivided them into many categories. But we can all agree that Shanghainese walls are both impermeable and porous, solid and fragmented, opening and closing gaps in the city.
In the Chinese tradition, it is written that ghosts cannot walk along paths that turn around corners. Furthermore, they have to take on the form of the bridges in Chinese gardens in order to cross the ponds they straddle.
In Chinese philosophy, a walk through a garden should command all of a person’s attention, as there is only one time and one space: the here and now. The lack or presence in a given dimension of railings, which are more decorative than functional, is to exalt this dimension of being. Being lost in one’s thoughts can result in one falling into a pond… in the here and now.