Tag Archive for 'street-stories'

12
Mar

The Many Lives of an Old Shanghai Villa

By Sue Anne 1 Comment
Categories: The Fading Vestige and The Lives Within

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Update: The Atlantic has published “The Elegant History of Shanghai’s Rundown Communal Villas” which I wrote based on this post. But I had the luxury of adding more context of villas serving as public housing, and discovering more interesting facets of this villa on Beijing West Lu. Such as, it served as a foreigners-only dormitory known as Henley Home prior to belonging to the Shanghai Huiming Flashlight Company. (The post will be remain sticky for a day.)

Even from a distance, the former residence of Wu Tingfang* (伍廷芳) tucked in along Beijing West Lu (北京西路) looked huge. The red brick so common in Queen Anne architecture in Shanghai seemed to burn under the sun at half-noon. Under the main porch, mumbled voices mingling with the clattering of tiles as a cluster of middle-aged to ancient residents played a lazy game of mahjong. Nobody batted an eyelash to a stranger in their midst as they were used to visitors with cameras.

I entered through two sets of aged wooden doors flung open in welcome and adjusted my eyes to the dim hallway. It opened up into an airy space and a magnificent stairwell bathed in sunlight. The first thing one noticed was how aged the interior looked. Dust was lodged in every crevice of the intricate woodwork along the side of the banisters. Sunrays colored by glass windows illuminated European-styled arcs and moldings against tired and stained walls.

The floors creaked underfoot as I run my fingers along the sides walls where electrical switches on each floor controlled the over 50 households in the house. On the second floor, I could hear the hiss of wet vegetables against a smoking wok coming from the common kitchen. Next door, someone flushed a toilet and I later discover them to be in their original state. The suspended wooden stall doors gave little privacy to a human squatting atop the hole in the floor. It was rudimentary and uncomfortable.

A pair of middle-aged women was gossiping excitedly in Shanghainese as I continued upstairs. They giggled when I guessed them to be sisters and later shared with me a few tidbits of the history of the villa. As did many other passing residents, including an older man in a leather Mao flat cap, a heavily wrinkled woman stroking her cat and a middle-aged man wheeling his bike out. Everyone gave a different anecdote that seemed to map the many points of history of this house and they were similarly proud of its heritage.

The villa was built in 1910 and first served as the residence of Wu Tingfang (伍廷芳), a learned Mandarin official who also acted as an Envoy for the Qing Government in the United States, Spain and Peru. In America, Wu promoted Chinese culture and advocated efforts to mitigate discrimination against Chinese emigrants working in the country. Under Sun Yat-sen, Wu served as foreign minister to the Republic of China and even as acting president in Sun’s absence. He later passed away in 1922 in Guangdong.

(As past lives would intertwine, I later discovered that Wu had lived in beautiful Romanesque Revival style house* (now a boring looking apartment block) on Q Street in Washington DC, a block from my old apartment when I lived in the district.)

The villa in Shanghai was later taken over as a factory and dormitory by the Daxing Tobacco Company (大新香烟厂) and subsequently sold to the boss of Shanghai Huiming Tochlight Company (汇明电筒厂) named Ding Xiongzhao (丁熊照).

Ding had started his company in 1925 and grew to become the “King of Batteries”. He was unlikely to have stayed in Shanghai after the Communists came to power in 1949 as he had amassed significant wealth and businesses in the US and Europe. Records showed him settling and later passing away in Hong Kong in 1976. The house continued to serve as a dormitory for workers of the former Shanghai Huiming, whose descendants still live in the house till this day.

The current state of the villa – individual cramped quarters with backward communal amenities, facades in need of better upgrades and conservation – is still a common sight in Shanghai’s many old neighborhoods. So much so that the villa was deemed perfectly authentic to serve as a location set for a 2009 television series called  ”Dwelling Narrowness” or “wo ju” (蜗居). It literally translates into “snail house” but “humble abode” is a less awkward translation.

The TV series revolved around two sisters who struggled with life in a fictional city that strongly resembled present-day Shanghai. The plot focused on the sacrifices the sisters undertook to afford a home in the city - the younger sister becoming a mistress to a married politician while the other lived in a small room in the very villa with her husband as they scrimped to save money for a future together.

The show highlighted the conflicts arising from the widening gap between rich and poor, political corruption and an erosion of traditional Chinese family values. In particular, against the background of a real estate bubble in China and rising inflation, “Dwelling Narrowness” hit a chord with many viewers, especially in Shanghai, who saw themselves ball-chained for decades to burdensome mortgages like “house slaves” (房奴).

A resident told me that he appeared as an extra in the TV series and conveyed a mixed sense of pride and exasperation about the villa. “Everything is very much in its original form,” he said as he pointed out the sealed up fireplace, subtle moldings and wooden carvings, “That’s why the TV crew wanted to film here. They clearly appreciate the house, and I hope that the government does too. I certainly don’t want to leave.”

And with that, he wheeled his bicycle through the dim hallway and into the bright outdoors, his body cutting a sharp silhouette. My hand still on the banister, I decided to head up for another tour of the villa.

August 2011

* Photos of Wu Tingfang and his Washington DC residence are from Wikipedia Commons.

22
Feb

Winter walking

By Sue Anne 0 Comments
Categories: Street Stories and Take To the Street

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It was only a few weeks ago, the cold and dampness of Shanghai’s winter had gotten to me in the worst possible way.

Hibernation swiftly took over and I stubbornly refused to get out of bed on the weekends. One Saturday afternoon, I woke up groggy, my heart and bones felt heavy as if trying to break out of a funk. I stared out of my window to see overcast skies and a dull fog. Grey seemed to constantly plague my weekends. I crawled back into bed.

I have often thought to myself that there was simply no excuse for bad weather to get in the way of shooting. We are reflecting society as is, and bad weather, warts and all, are exactly that. I knew deep down the most amazing pictures would come out of people fighting rain and cold. Nature versus man! Authenticity! I thought, yet laughing at the absurdity of my city-mindset. I lived in Shanghai, for pete’s sake.

And so it went for days, then weeks.

Then suddenly, there was a buzz around me. Sunshine this coming weekend! A colleague clutched my arm to exclaim. strawberries picking! Window shopping! Hot coffees in the streets! Picnicking!

Satuday came and it was half of what had been promised. Sunshine bathed busy streets. Frowns and hunched backs turned briefly into easy smiles and relaxed postures. I counted on two hands, youngsters snacking on ice-creams even when their breath was visible as they spoke.

In my first hour of walking, the camera felt unwieldy, almost alien in my palm. Still, it felt good to be get my rhythm back, measuring people and distance on my 35mm. Children were screaming as they played thieves and robbers in alleys. Shopkeepers joked back and forth. Loud conversations and the clattering of mahjong tiles drifted out of open windows.

By the 2nd hour, I pressed deeper into alleys and emerging in equally quiet streets where the temperature fell from the absence of bustling human bodies. The soundtrack of the warm afternoon had dimmed. My cheeks were pinched pink from the brisk air and my fingers felt slightly numb even in my gloves.

Adjectives failed me. I was freezing. As the sun slipped back behind clouds and the proverbial mountain, the evening chill forced bodies indoors, leaving only those out with a purpose. Places to go, bellies to be filled.

Bodies began to hunch again and layers piled on you only see eyes and red noses. Another 12 more hours and good weather will be upon all of us again. I was waiting. For Sunday promised to be as brisk but infinitely cheery.

February 2012

17
Jan

And the dragons come aflutter …

By Sue Anne 5 Comments
Categories: Street Stories and To Market, To Market

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The din of nearby crowds rivaled the incessant car honking as I alighted by the main road. Mustering great vigor, I dove into the busy pedestrian area around the Fuyou Lu Wholesale Market (福佑批发市场) near Yuyuan (豫园). My mission was to acquire some decorations to bring home to Singapore to alert our neighbors that yes, Chinese New Year is coming and this time, the Dragon will breathe fire into the new year while the Rabbit scampers away, never to return until 11 years later.

The smell of street snacks mingled with loud bargaining by hawkers and customers alike. Festivities don’t officially get underway until next Sunday but the buzz and cheer of the most important holiday for many Chinese all over the world are already in full swing.

The street was awashed in swaths of red cloth and paper laced in glittering bits of gold. The endless paraphernalia associated with celebrating Chinese New Year never fails to amaze me. Last year’s shiny posters of gold-detailed rabbits have been replaced by dragons that reflect every mood: cute, regal, tacky, fierce and prosperous. The Year of the Dragon is deemed a good one – for babies, for businesses, for weddings and anyone who believes in the auspicious symbolism it embodies.

In the background, Chinese New Year songs blared at every corner, ranging from the traditional gongs and songs to sped-up techno, none of which did anything to sooth the tic developing in the corner of my eye.

Besides the dragon, the other traditional symbols of prosperity and wealth sold well among shoppers: hanging mobiles of fish, ancient Chinese ingots, firecrackers, all 12 zodiac animals bundled together and lanterns. I found myself tangled with two other matrons trying to pay for my Dragon posters, so overwhelmingly massive, the God of Wealth would be blind to miss my home. Next to me, an older gentleman amused himself with a stuffed toy hammer shaped like a dragon that irritatingly parroted “Gongxi Facai! 恭喜发财!Gongxi Facai! 恭喜发财!” over and over again as you bashed it on its head.

I imagined nimble hands all over the province of Guangdong working at blinding speeds through December and early January, churning out all these .. things … to satiate the depthless appetites of heady consumers.

Chinese New Year is not complete just with decorations. Grandmothers swarmed candy stores to stock up on sweet bites for expected visitors during the new year, migrant parents perused toys to bring home, and children took advantage of the festive atmosphere to wrangle presents. Almost everyone was seeking something new to wear or adorn themselves with. I watched a woman, hands red and puffy from excessive dish washing, stroking a gold bracelet lustfully as her daughter tugged her arm for a snack.

Not to be outdone by the shops, entrepreneurial mobile hawkers lined up in the middle of the pedestrian street to peddle even more (if at all possible!) knick knacks. A tall striking man displayed his wares by layering himself with multiple  flutes on strings, enticing passers-by with a lyrical tune. Another cheery man wore a winter hat shaped like a panda and helped children try on similarly shaped hats. Adorable, wind-pinched cheeks peered out under their furry hats at parents unable to resist their innocent glee.

And just like last year, I emerged slightly rumpled but triumphant with my procured decorations. Each January, I vowed never to throw myself at the mercy of Fuyou Lu at this time of the year. But I cave each time for it has become a festive ritual, and if you’re in town, I encourage you to do the same.

Just remember, hands tucked in on the sides, stiffen the spine and dive headfirst into the crowd.

January 2012

12
Jan

Grappling with Street Photography

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Take To the Street

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I’ve been sitting on this series for a while. Well, not just this, there are a dozen others, but let’s talk a little about this one in particular.

There isn’t a specific or exciting story to tell. It was a thoroughly enjoyable day-long amble on a Saturday in Hongkou district (虹口区) which I ended with cramped feet but a happy heart. Everything came together: cool weather, sufficient light, optimal crowd density and diversity of characters. It was days like this that reinforced my affection for Shanghai.

Yet when I reviewed my work the next day, I felt uninspired, almost disappointed. I found some perspectives unoriginal and compositions lackluster, a bit of a waste given the pleasant circumstances. Where was the motion, flow and wit? One photo seemed like a variation of another barely a month ago.

It took weeks to filter a dozen shots I could live with, another several days to do another cull. I remain undecided, deleting another as I write this post.

So what of it then, you ask? It was an exercise for my own gratification, a weighing of one’s minor accomplishments. But really, it is a reminder of how difficult the process of street photography can be for some.

Many photographers consider street photography to be challenging, perhaps the most difficult of genres within photography. The random and often uncontrollable elements in composition and people’s growing sensitivities about privacy are just some examples. Ironically, these are also the reasons that drive some to embrace street photography.

Personally, I’ve had little trouble with photographing people in Shanghai’s streets, something I’ve discussed at length before. Where I find constantly challenged is in creativity, sustainability and speed, especially when detecting and assembling an interesting composition quickly.  The process is easily suceptible to weather conditions as it can by your emotional state. Often times, it can be both relaxing and frustrating.

My partner often teases me about being too hard on myself, and how little of my work I share (ironic given that I have a blog) but I discover this to be surprisingly common among some photographers. It’s not a vanity thing but rather about skill and expectations.

Last September, as part of organizing the exhibit “The Living Streets of Shanghai and The Hague”, I spoke at length with photographer Lu Yuanmin (陆元敏) who was the event’s guest speaker.

Lu 老师’s (or Teacher ‘Laoshi’ Lu as most call him out of respect) street photography, largely shot in black and white film, is concentrated in his hometown of Shanghai. Pushed by high contrast and heavy grain of the film, his photos exude a dreamlike feel (also a recurring theme in interviews). His inspiration “comes from visual memory; the moment of collision of memory and reality.” It is as if one is drifting through Shanghai with an invisible cloak, peering intimately (and fleetingly) into people’s souls.

When I asked him if he encountered much difficulty shooting in the streets, he acknowledged how angry some people can be and it has grown more difficult of late. Being exceedingly shy in public, Lu is adverse to conflict.

“When I notice an argument in the street, I tend to walk away rather than towards it.” he said once in an interview. All of this has shaped his stealthy approach in street photography.  Before, the Lomo camera used to be one of his many weapons of choice. Of late, he has switched to a toy camera which hung like a small key chain no bigger than his thumb.

Once, I blurted out that despite practice, I find myself with no more than 8 good shots after a long day of shooting.

“So many?” Teacher Lu remarked in surprise. “That’s quite good already. I usually have just one or two,” he laughed. My face reddened and I slunk deep into my chair. That only made me feel worse. Clearly, my bar of excellence wasn’t very high.

When shooting film, Lu insists on developing all of it himself, fearing others might see his “mediocre” work if he sent it off to professionals. There was nothing militant about his approach to photography, he really was that humble. Perhaps with fame comes growing expectations, and you can be your own worst critic. Despite decades of experience, even veterans still grapple with the process. But it is Lu’s passion for street photography that presses him on. Nothing was too trivial. Nothing was to be passed up.

And so, the weekend is coming. Another day-long amble is expected and the frustrating process of shoot and review will reoccur.

But I never said I’d stop. Did I?

04
Jan

A review of 2011 (part three)

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Exhibits, Talks and Publications, Off the Streets of Shanghai and Street Stories

This is the third installment of my review of 2011. Picking a favorite story from each month is difficult. All posts take time, including research, photo editing and writing and re-writing each paragraph to the best effect. It can sometimes be tiresome, especially when I would linger on a post for weeks, to the point of it remaining stubbornly unpublished. And believe me, there are quite a few. I sometimes have to revisit the place to jog the memory of the details, smells and sounds.

Yet there are moments which pass you by as quickly as they come. A look, a body movement or a sound can trigger an entire composition never to be recreated ever again.

July: I published a piece on exploring the port architecture of Shantou in Guangdong, where the Old Quarters, while crumbling miserably, is a beautiful place worth visiting. The city is home to Teochews, a dialect group, of which the overseas disapora number over 30 million.

Another favorite is “Reflections at high noon”, a photo essay on the most unknowing inspiration for street photography.

August: I’ve often feature the Chinese street photography collective Zaijietou.com (在街头) as an example of the popularity of street photography among a select few in China. Here, an interview of Chinese and German perspectives on street photography in China.

September: In lieu of blogging, my September was packed with activities. My biggest event was  “The Living Streets of Shanghai and the Hague”, a video exhibit by Shanghai and the Hague’s best street photographers. I co-organized it with  Five Spices, a Dutch design company, and the exhibit was held in Shanghai and subsequently in the Hague.

One of the featured photographers of the above exhibit was Tan Tien Yun, whom I interviewed. Working in the one of the countless factories in Minhang, Tien Yun took the time to take in the the more rural aspects of Shanghai’s suburbs including the local migrant communities.

A review of 2011 (part one) (part two) (part three)

31
Dec

Happy New Year! and 2011 in review (part one)

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Exhibits, Talks and Publications, Off the Streets of Shanghai, Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories, Suburbs of Shanghai and The Fading Vestige

In the tradition of pensive reflection of the past year, I present to you the blog’s ”2011 in Review”. Below is the first of four installments rounding up my favorite stories each month. Hopefully this will keep you entertained over the long weekend. You can also read my review for 2010 here.

The pace of old housing demolition in Shanghai has slowed a little in comparison to the frenzied activity prior to the Shanghai World Expo in 2010.  This might be related to the Chinese government’s strict property tightening measures to scale back the real estate bubble, and the general malaise of the global financial crisis. On a positive note, on a recent visit to a half-flattened longtang, residents tell me they are now protected by laws to prevent forcible removal from their properties until all negotiations are complete. While not universally enforced, I am hearted by the small development.

2011 for me has been a significant amount of traveling to new cities and countries. In addition to revisiting Berlin, London and of course, home in Singapore, I visited for the first time Dubai, Seoul (and a very exciting jaunt to the North Korea border!), Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Vietnam. It was a year of new boundaries and new friends and I expect 2012 to be more of the same.

I want to thank regular readers, faithful commentators (you know who you are!) and occassional passers-by for visiting the blog. I occupy a small sliver of space in the vast Internet but work hard to piece together the stories and photos for our mutual pleasure. As always, I welcome your suggestions on how to improve my photography and writing.

My best wishes of good health and happiness to you for the New Year! I leave you with one of my favorite quotes, something I remind myself daily and find very apt for fresh starts in general.

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

January: Meeting Mr Cai (photo above) in Shanghai’s suburbs, whom I have designated “The Happiest Man in Shanghai”, was a fortuitous affair. I am reminded of his cheery optimisim at his old age which warms my heart each time I have a nasty encounter in Shanghai.

February: I was very glad to have documented the beautiful mosaic-tiled public service posters in Ruihua Lane (瑞华坊) which preached good manners and respect amongst the neighborhood’s residents. Unfortunately, the lane has emptied out in anticipation of razing.

On another note, my trip to the very sunny and excessively opulant Dubai.

March: One of my favorite photo essays on discovering life and color in dying neighborhoods undergoing demolishment. This one was in northern Jingan district, which I had rarely visited. Beauty often lies in character, and Shanghai’s old lanes are filled with them. Everytime you pass by an unassuming lane, make it a point to poke your head in.

A special mention of my contribution as co-author (along with Old Shanghai establishments including Tess Johnston) of the book “Still More Shanghai Walks” which we presented at the Shanghai Literary Festival and our booklaunch at the beautiful and quaint Old China Hand Cafe, where it is still available. I covered the former Jewish Ghetto and street markets of Tilanqiao.

A review of 2011 (part two) (part three) (part four)

28
Nov

The Posture of Youth

By Sue Anne 10 Comments
Categories: Street Stories and Take To the Street

“Youth is easily deceived, because it is quick to hope.” ~  Aristotle

I had unintentionally trailed the two young girls for much of the block.

One walked with a swagger, the other with hesitation. Both had their heads buried in their mobiles, their fingers texting furiously. Without looking up, they weaved in and out of the Saturday afternoon crowd along Hefei Lu (合肥路).

They paused for a moment on the sidewalk to decide their next move. Swaddled in trendy winter wear, they chatted absently while continuing to play with their phones. The dialect was incomprehensible. Though their soft tones suggested Jiangsu, their attitudes spoke of enough time spent in the city.

Sometimes we forget that it is more than commerce that defines Shanghai’s pulsing vibe. Its fast pace rides on the depthless energy of countless youths that flood the city. Many of them moved around with their parents who sought better lives in Shanghai, others were bundled into buses and dispatched to work for distant relatives when crops failed in the countrysides.

Most finish high-school with no expectations of further studies. Instead, they arrive in Shanghai with stars in their eyes which are eventually dulled by their unglamorous lives as shampoo boys/girls, shop assistants, security guards, masseurs, waiters and waitresses.

But the fervour of youth is impossible to extenguish. After 12 hours attending to demanding (and often verbally abusive) customers, they shed their uniforms and plunge into crowded streets and bright lights. On their days off, boys and girls strolled along the Bund, window-shopped along Nanjing Lu, gossiped about budding romances and watched hours of Korean soap dramas. In a city with an extreme income disparity, Shanghai was theirs as much as the next person.

That was the thing about a large and mean metropolis. If it doesn’t care for you, it cannot judge you. Unlike tightknit communities back home, the city barely bats an eyelash if you have become a married man’s mistress, are being sexually harassed by bored housewives, joined an underground Christian prayer group or studying for the real estate exam after failing three times in a row (all true stories).

Shanghai carries the hopes and dreams of the wild-eyed youth, hoping to strike it big and live the modern life that his/her parents could never have imagined. Maintaining one’s dignity can be challenging in such circumstances.

Once, I watched a property agent, no more than 25 in his ill-fitting and shiny suit, stand outside a luxury estate distributing property listings. As only the help staff would walk out of that area, all other residents entered and exited in their flashy cars. The young agent would stuff the flyers eagerly into open car windows, much to the annoyance of the drivers. I watched a haughty woman in large sunglasses fling it right back out on the ground before speeding off in her BMW.

The young man picked up the flyer and smoothed it out for reuse. His hopes were not quite dashed but just a little shaken.

10
Aug

How children take to the Roving Exhibit

By Sue Anne 3 Comments
Categories: The Roving Exhibit

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As some of you may know, I gave a showing (video and talk) of The Roving Exhibit at the twocities gallery back in June. Unfortunately, I had recklessly used the photo boards as shelter against heavy rain that evening. Softened from excess moisture, the boards subsequently hardened into a permanent curve. Given its sorry state, I can’t quite decide if I should offer it to some construction worker as a conveyor or to the kids in my neighborhood to go sledding on the grass.

On second thought, I could simply give the board to the gaggle of cheeky children I met on my last “rove” back in May, who showed me the wonders of a simple plank of cardboard.

After a long meandering walk with the photo boards through street markets and along noisy sidewalks, I had slipped into a longtang along Dongchangzhi Lu (东长治路) in Hongkou south of the Bund, drawn by the soundtrack of a busy Saturday afternoon.

Pushing past the ubiquitous public trash bins, I found the place to be almost cavernous. The structures and beams were taller and the alleys more generous in width. Or perhaps it was the presence of children playing in the midst that made the place look much larger than it really was. It was a nostalgic sight, reminiscent of my childhood days when ‘fun’ didn’t involve an electronic gadget. Nimble fingers were for bursting soap bubbles, not slaying virtual aliens.

Like Pipe Piper, the children trailed after me as I leaned the boards against the wall and began unpacking my equipment. The next thing I knew, neighbors, relatives and friends were called upon to have a gander. The attention was fleeting after the customary “What is this all about?”

The children were less interested in the photos or what they represented, which was often the case. But the unwieldy nature of the boards provided plenty of entertainment. Through the boundless imagination of youth, the boards became wings of imaginary airplanes, fighting swords and magical fans that turned into deadly weapons etc. Receptive and energetic, everyone wanted to pose and play with the camera at the same time. We were loud, boisterous and carefree.

Just then, a loud honk pierced through the air. A grumpy man on an electric bike raised his fists, demanding we get out of his way in the alley. As he passed, a young girl reassured me, “Don’t mind him, sister.” she stuck at her tongue at the man’s receding back. “He’s crazy. Nobody likes him.”

05
Jul

Rekindling a love affair with Shanghai

By Sue Anne 1 Comment
Categories: Street Stories

Crossing the river as evening creeps gently into a Friday is something I enjoy greatly. I find it a warmly symbolic way of starting my weekend, leaving behind the modern skyline of Lujiazui’s (陆家嘴) financial district and gently stepping ashore to the historic Bund.

You smirk at the tourist babble, isn’t that the opening paragraph to Foder’s travel guide or Lonely Planet? but I guarantee you that such a ride at dusk can be quite magical.

The whole point of the ferry (RMB 2 from Lujiazui’s Dongchang Lu ferry station (东昌路船渡)) is to avoid the hideous tunnel traffic leading from East to West of the Huangpu River. As routine as it feels for me, a white collar worker taking a water taxi to and from work, what I love most is mingling with wide-eyed tourists who rekindle the warm feelings I have for Shanghai.

When the sty-like gates of the ferry open, people would rush for the best seats. No matter to me for we all share the same view. With my Ipod on a melodious trip, I observe the endless gawking and shared moments between couples and among families soaking in our fair city.

Once in a while, when I’m not in too much of a hurry, I stroll along the Bund to bask in the evening breeze and muse at the unfettered activity of tourist photography. Chinese tourists automatically turn to Lujiazui while Western tourists veer towards the Bund, aspirations and nostalgia respectively aligned.

A quick jaunt later, you dive back into the city’s embrace and back to regular programming. If you ever tire of the city, a quick rekindle of a love affair with Shanghai is required. And a boat ride across the river at dusk can do just that.

P.s. Like a million others, I’ve been very enamoured by Instagram but have been quite restrained from peppering my musings all over this blog. Nevertheless,  you can follow me at sueannetay.

31
Mar

A little scrap story

By Sue Anne 3 Comments
Categories: Building the China Dream and Street Stories

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While I am not one for following major scrap stories like some folks, it is nevertheless amusing to hear the backstories of what, why and how involving “DIY scrapping”.

I was travelling around Wangjiamatou Lu (王家码头路) in Old Town with my Roving Exhibit when I spotted this couple. I decided to place my photo boards next to them for a show-and-tell but the husband and wife duo seemed a lot more interesting.

“These are left over things from a hotel in Pudong which has just closed.” the husband explained. They arrived there a bit late, but it was a decent stash. Alarms, door knobs, light fixtures, control switches, random wires. Everything was being stripped into small piles separated by materials: glass, copper, light switch frames, fixture casings and bits of wiring.

They knew what they wanted. No large piles of wood or alumnium. It’s all about value, not volume. I watched the wife pull expertly at a burglar alarm followed by a light bulb, extracting the tungsten.

I had a go at it to give a helping hand and nearly took my foot off with the screwdriver and hammer. The wife shook her head, maybe it’s best you stick to photography, she laughed.

And take a photo of my kids while you’re at it, her husband chimed in.

December 2010

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