A study of surfaces

The streets of Hong Kong and Kowloon make an interesting study of the use of tiles on the outside of buildings. It is a study of public spaces and how people interact with that space.
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P1020268I think this is something special about the buildings of last generation’s HK. Tiles preserve the integrity of the brick and concrete from the rain and humidity, lending lustre and gloss to materials that would otherwise blacken with soot and mould and stain with the grease of close urban spaces, say nothing of the dire, unimaginable! consequences of feeding animals in private areas.

It seems the presence of tiles are everywhere. Uniform square mat tiles, combinations of colour that echo the tastes of times past or the historical traits of luck and prosperity. Some time in the past, this green pictured above held some meaning, just as the colour of the red and ornate building below and the newer, black and severe building juxtaposed.

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It seems like a sensible idea, but one that I hadn’t thought about much whilst living in Bangkok. The wet and humid conditions in this part of the world are a safe harbour for mould and scum to accumulate in the corners and crevices. The people accept the appearance and condition of the public space, at least here in HK, there has been a notion of defiance against decay. Check out the ruined plaster mouldings on the colonial buildings in Yangon to compare.

And there is evidence that the designers of these spaces were interested the possibilities of this medium. Imagine, this simple design below that has a modest resonance with the work of Piet Mondrian. There is a restraint of artistic endeavour (or of limited imagination, who can say), that says that the humble tile is a vulgar thing, so common and useful and everywhere.

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Here’s a shopfront with a 2 tone circular tile pattern. Most tiles you see are the small square profile.

HK Xmas Milonga

The last time I was in Hong Kong was a dozy 4 hour transit stop on the way to London Heathrow. That was 2007, 2 months before the big jump to Thailand. This time I wanted to see Hong Kong itself, see the tango, stay in the city. But now it was December 10, and I didn’t know what I would be doing, nor where I would be staying for the 4 nights, amended to 7 nights, that I would be staying here.

P1020160The flight from BKK was flying towards dusk. Below us was purple cloud reaching toward the orange sunset. The clouds seemed settled at a uniform altitude, the ripples in the cloud seen from above was so intricate, it looked like a great woolen blanket cloaking the world.

 

I knew that when I landed, there would be a Christmas milonga somewhere in Tsim Sha Tsui. That much I had booked. 3 classes and a Grand Milonga ticket with Carman via email. I liked the idea of this romantic notion, of travelling light, with only a suit and a pair of dance shoes. I wanted to see if the Hong Kong of my imagination were anything like the Hong Kong of reality.

Finding a bus from HKG to Kowloon was confusing. I remember the bus taking us to another bus station, but I was not sure where to alight. I was struck by the colour of the city, the way the buildings illuminated the world, like toys.

P1020162What surprised me  was the cold. On this night, people in the street were looking up into the sky, to see the lunar eclipse, a blood moon gazing back from that cloudless sky. I took a picture with my camera.

Intent on dancing, searched around for Middle Road and found the Mariner’s Club, the venue for the evening. I walked up a flight of stairs until I found a bathroom and changed into my suit before stepping into the milonga one floor above. I was greeted and seated and watched on amazed at how well presented everyone was. Ray the tall American was in a tux as were many of the men. I was at a table of nice people, strangers, and a shyness came over me. But I stayed and got up a few times and watched the performance by Diego and Graciela.

Graciela y Diego, HK Xmas Milonga 2011As night ended, I stepped outside alone to discover just how cold HK could be in December. It was 2:00am and I didn’t have a clue where I would be sleeping, but I thought if I could find a place called Chun King Mansions, I might be okay. A sense of optimism prevailed.

I walked back to the main street and turned left and walked 50 paces. A middle eastern guy was standing suspiciously outside a plaza entrance, minding his phone.

You want a room? he asked.

Yes, I said.

150 Dollars.

Okay, I said.

He lead me around the security grill, into the lobby and up the escalator. Then down a flight of stairs and through a rabbit warren until we came upon a door, which he opened. Inside was a bed against the wall upon which lay a rudely awoken fellow, middle eastern. He chatted to the other guy for a moment and then opened a door behind him to a room, my bed for the night.

By a dumb stroke of blind luck, I had fumbled a room in Chun King Mansions.