See discussions, stats, and author profiles for this publication at: https://www.researchgate.

net/publication/330823624

Learning from dense cities: Hong Kong spatial constructs as narratives

Article · December 2018

CITATIONS READS

0 216

3 authors:

Guillermo Aranda-Mena Per-Johan Dahl

RMIT University Lund
85 PUBLICATIONS   488 CITATIONS    1 PUBLICATION   0 CITATIONS   

SEE PROFILE SEE PROFILE

Caroline Dahl
Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences
17 PUBLICATIONS   7 CITATIONS   

SEE PROFILE

Some of the authors of this publication are also working on these related projects:

PhD PORTAL View project

Loft P View project

All content following this page was uploaded by Guillermo Aranda-Mena on 02 February 2019.

The user has requested enhancement of the downloaded file.

P. Rajagopalan and M.M Andamon (eds.), Engaging Architectural Science: Meeting the Challenges of Higher Density: 52nd 753
International Conference of the Architectural Science Association 2018, pp.753–759. ©2018, The Architectural Science
Association and RMIT University, Australia.

Learning from dense cities: Hong Kong spatial

constructs as narratives
Guillermo Aranda-Mena
RMIT, Melbourne, Australia
[email protected]

Per-Johan Dahl
Lund University Department of Architecture and the Built Environment
[email protected]

Caroline Dahl
Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences
[email protected]

Abstract: Cities all over the world are being densified in the quest for sustainable urban development. Whether or not this
is a viable strategy is an ongoing debate, but as densifying cities face certain challenges, they can learn from already dense
cities, where interactions between interior and exterior space are explicit. This paper takes Hong Kong as a model for the
densifying city to focus on three levels of spatial organisation in hyper-dense urban space. The paper will discuss urban
life forms through seamless interconnection between interior and exterior space. Using a micro-narrative methodology for
organising personal experiences and communication data, the paper will take the interior workplace, porous urban space,
and the urban landscape as three conditions for dense urbanism. The paper will deploy Hong Kong as an in intellectual
framework and model for spatial design and construction in high density; it will explore three levels of space through
micro-narratives; cross-analyse the micro-narratives to detect attributes and concepts for densification; and synthesise the
findings to suggest directions for further research.

Keywords: city spatial organisation, high-density living, micro-narrative

1. HIGH-DENSITY IS HERE TO STAY

According to the UN World Urbanisation Prospects (DESA-UN, 2014), 54 per cent of the world’s population lives in urban
areas, a proportion that is expected to increase to 66 per cent by 2050. Projections show that urbanisation combined with
the overall growth of the world’s population could add another 2.5 billion people to the urban population by 2050. Cities are
growing at a rapid pace in developed and developing economies, with close to 90 percent of the increase concentrated in
Asia and Africa. Rem Koolhaas (1978) reflected on density when writing his seminal book Delirious New York: “Manhattan
is the one urbanist ideology that has fed, from its conception, on the splendours and miseries of the metropolitan condition
– hyper-density – without once losing faith in it as a basis for a desirable modern culture. Manhattan’s architecture is a
paradigm for the exploitation of congestion.” The book was set as a blueprint for a “Culture of Congestion” (Koolhaas 1978,
10).

Large cities will continue to expand in population. By 2030, Tokyo will lead the UN’s ranking of most populous cities
with nearly 38 million people, followed by Delhi, Shanghai, Mexico City, Sao Paulo and Mumbai, each with over 30 million
people. On the other hand, small cities are more numerous: nearly half of the world’s 3.9 billion urban dwellers reside in
relatively small settlements with fewer than 500,000 inhabitants, while only around one in eight live in one of the world’s 28
megacities (with 10 million inhabitants or more). Many of the fastest-growing cities in the world are relatively small urban
settlements. By 2030, the world is projected to have 41 mega-cities (DESA-UN 2014). It is clear that we need to understand
the implications of high-density living, not only from a quantitative approach but also from an experiential, qualitative one
(Cuff and Sherman, 2011).

2. METHODOLOGY: CONSTRUCTING UNDERSTANDINGS THROUGH MICRO-NARRATIVES

This paper is qualitative in nature, and as such does not aim to confirm or reject hypotheses currently prevailing in
research circles dealing with urban planning, city design and growth management. Instead, the paper’s aim is exploratory,
following inductive rather than deductive logic using an interpretative approach. According to Swaffield and Deming (2011),
interpretative research strategies “presumes that the meaning of objects, events, images and actions are not obvious,”
hence requiring the researcher to make sense of them. The act of constructing such understandings positions the research
in between the researcher(s) and the data (ibid). The methodology used here builds upon methods of autoethnography (cf.
Denzin and Ellis) emphasising the researchers’ personal experience in relation to the research subject. This paper aims to
754 G. Aranda-Mena, PJ. Dahl and C. Dahl

incorporate personal observations from first-hand experiences of Hong Kong’s dense urban fabric together with empirical
data collected through literature studies. Using an autoethnographic approach, the paper’s three co-authors investigate
subjective individual spatial and environmental experiences; hence, lessons are not to be taken deterministically but rather
as a preamble to future research directions.

As the structure of the paper follows that of a journey, the research also lends itself to methodologies inspired by the
transareal approach of Alexander von Humboldt, appropriated by Diedrich, Lee and Braae (2014) into the method of
travelling transect. In contrast to their method, in which they traverse an actual territory in situ, the three co-authors of this
paper have revisited field notes and memories of Hong Kong in order to externalised their tacit experimental knowledge by
means of a reflective narrative, here referred to as a micro-narrative.

The narrational style of the paper emphasises the autoethnographic methodology and the interpretational strategy of
the research by conveying a series of related plots (Abbott, 1992). To Abbott, narration of a case such as Hong Kong is to
be understood as a sequence of major turning points and the “situational consequences flowing from these” (Barab and
Squire, 2004). Such “turning points” can also be found in the work of Diedrich, Lee and Braae, who talk about prompts,
“places of situated knowledge, which captured and sometimes deviated the researchers’ attention on site from the planned
itinerary”. In this paper, the co-authors recognise ”prompts” and ”turning points” in their own writing as the key findings
to be collaboratively cross-analysed and synthesised into conclusions. The cross-analysis identifies shared experiences,
incorporating individual views by consensus amongst all three authors. There are no traditional validations of the conclusion
apart from the overlaps of shared first-hand experiences of Hong Kong.

The co-authors met twice in Hong Kong and held a number of follow-up meetings in Europe, where they discussed
on their individual experiences of Hong Kong. The premise of this approach is that by eliciting personal experiences of the
quality of life in the highest-density environment, one can translate those phenomena into principles to inform designing
practices and the planning of future cities? The claim is that spatial micro-narratives and autoethnography can complement
more quantitively driven research by incorporating lived experiences. With a personal constructivist exploratory approach,
the ideation and envisioning mental process is in focus instead of binary ‘cause and effect’ inquiries. Our constructivist
approach suggests the re-thinking of research questions as a step prior to quantitative investigations - which could happen
at a later stage.

At this point, we believe that reflections from three personal and professionally informed experiences are of importance.
Extracting those experiences, lessons and observations explicitly from a tacit domain is thus the aim of the personal
micro-narratives that constitutes the next section of this paper. The micro-narratives are written in first person in order to
emphasise the first-hand experiences and to offer a close proximity for the reader to the narrators.

3. CASE: HONG KONG AS A MICRO-NARRATIVE

In the following section, three individual voices share their personal micro-narratives. The structure is set as a journey,
starting with reflections on interior spaces by the first author, moving into the movement between interior and exterior
through three-dimensional urban porosity as narrated by the second author, and ending with a journey through the urban
landscape by the third author. The combined narrative may show some points of overlap at which the authors define shared
experience. This has been seen as positive, as those overlapping points become stronger in the cross-analysis exercise,
creating clusters and allowing the authors to draw observations and conclusions.

Figure 1: Sketch of development above rail tracks, Mong Kok. Macro-micro space outlook from work-living space and photo collage of
porous urban space in Mong Kok, threshold and airshaft.
Sketch and Photo collage by co-authors Guillermo Aranda-Mena (left) and Per-Joan Dahl (right).
 Learning from dense cities: Hong Kong spatial constructs as narratives 755

3.1 Narrative 1: Interior spaces

The first micro-story concerns life, work and play in a vertical city, in particular to the experience of interior spaces. Hong
Kong’s Mong Kok district seems to thrive on the spatial logics of the now-demolished Walled City, which comprised an
inward vertical neighbourhood – perhaps the densest in the world, reaching over 1,255,000 inhabitants per square kilometre
in 1997. In the 1990s, the city went through a major reconstruction, including demolition to free up land for new residential
towers (Frampton et.al. 2012). Mong Kok remains a tight-knit cluster of living spaces; there are lessons to learn from such
urban conditions, from the rooftops where children played and did homework, to the alleyways and spaces in between, to
the world of interiors and personal spaces. In response to challenging living conditions, residents form strong communities.
This micro-narrative might teach us insights into ‘small-spaces’ – smart spaces for living, playing and working in today’s
vertical cities.

The residential towers of Mong Kok are unique; they are particularly distinctive for their slender proportions, more so than
in other vertical cities such as Singapore or Seoul. Mong Kok is the continental part of Hong Kong, not on the island but
on the peninsula. I have experienced Mong Kok district over the last three years, visiting twice a year for short yet intensive
periods of time to write, design and teach. My first visit to Hong Kong was in 2010 on a study tour I was leading, and it left
me with many positive impressions. Little was I to know that I would return to the “City Flower” years later in a less transient
capacity, and although I have not experienced life in Hong Kong as a permanent resident, I have explored the city on foot
and by public transport and have also visited local friends and colleagues at their homes, getting a feel for interior spaces.
The Mong Kok area is adjacent to the Kowloon City District, where the Kowloon Walled City Park has been established on
the site of the infamous Walled City of the past.

I land in Hong Kong’s Chek Lap Kok airport, which is celebrating its 20th anniversary with a 570,000 square metre
international terminal designed by Foster + Partners. After clearing customs and collecting luggage, it takes a few steps to
connect to the express train to Kowloon, which is the second stop, 30 kilometres away; the third stop, 40 kilometres away,
is Central Station on Hong Kong Island. This is my first experience of confined interior space in the city. The train takes less
than half an hour and has free Wi-Fi, presenting an opportunity to update emails and notify family of safe arrival. Alighting at
Kowloon’s train station, I take a free shuttle bus to my hotel which is in the neighbouring district of Mong Kok. The hotel will
become my virtual home and office for the next week or two.

The hospitality sector is awakening to the fact that business people have different spatial and service requirements
than holidaymakers. Hotels are responding to the needs of nomadic workers with various new room arrangements; the
traveller may now find the centre of the room occupied not by the bed but by the desk or worktable, with priority given to an
ergonomic chair over fancy decoration. Business people can thus hold meetings and host colleagues during the trip without
the party feeling like they invaded someone’s bedroom. Interiors that respond to their occupants needs and emotions.

In the case of my working experience in Hong Kong, I have always stayed in the same hotel in Mong Kong. The place has
always reminded me of Le Corbusier’s writings on the cruise liners and the home as a machine for living. The building itself
is only 20 years old, but truly built with Le Corbusier’s principles in mind (1923), bearing resemblance to the Marseille Unite
d’Habitation with its rooftop running track. Instead of a car park on the bottom level, the Hong Kong version bridges across
the railway lines connecting to mainland China. The site is of some 250 metres long and only 50 metres wide, wedged in
between a built-up area and a (former) green strip – a buffer zone for the rail tracks. Its podium is an over site development
for retail space and also an entrance to the Mong Kok East MTR metro station. The building structure spans across the
railway track and the tower is built over a purposely-built reinforced concrete deck. The tower is 20 storeys high, plus the
podium levels which makes up the footprint. The complex is one of the few examples of what Le Corbusier referred as the
anti-Skyscraper,

“he (Le Corbusier) is like a prestidigitator who accidentally gives his trick away: he makes the Skyscraper
disappear in the black velvet pouch of his speculative universe, add jungle (nature in its purest possible form),
the shakes up the incompatible elements on his Paranoid-Critical top hap and – surprise! - pulls out the
Horizontal Skyscraper, Le Corbusier’s Cartesian rabbit” (in Koolhaas, 1978).

Working remotely from Melbourne as part of my Hong Kong experiences included time spent in interior spaces for quiet
reflection, such as the gym, spa, pool and bar; and spaces for leisure including galleries, eating and shopping spaces, and
small traditional shops and markets. Situated on an area of 1.1 square kilometres (0.4 square mile) with 143,000 inhabitants
and a population density of 130,000 per square kilometre, Kowloon is one of the highest-density areas in the world. For
comparison, Manhattan itself is nearly 26,000 inhabitants per square kilometre (67,000 inhabitants per square mile). Space
is scarce, and less traditional residential areas appear to emerge, as referenced in an architect’s brief description of an
architectural interpretation of Kowloon for designing the Kawasaki Amusement Park, Japan:
756 G. Aranda-Mena, PJ. Dahl and C. Dahl

“The Walled City has run a little wild - notably as visitors leave by crossing a pool of smoky-blue water on
stepping stones. But the rest is eerily authentic. Through the steel-plate double doors of the entrance, passing
the conspicuous sign banning entry to under-18s, is a claustrophobically small and red-lit chamber, all rivets
and rust. Beyond, the visitor is in an alley with store shutters on one side, tattered corrugated iron and dim
lights behind grimy windows. Advertising signs hang above the narrow passage.”

Accessing the interiors of homes and spaces could certainly become a maze-like experience. Even accessing my hotel
room demands a kind of negotiation, as the lifts only go up to level 18 – level 19 is accessed by an internal staircase, causing
me to wonder whether it was actually designed as an afterthought.

Vertical living, vertical working and shopping, vertical schools, vertical cinemas –vertical everything is the day-to-day
situation in Hong Kong. Towers in the city can host all kinds of activities. In the more commercial areas such as in Mong
Kok, narrow frontage could mean that up to the first six levels – and in some cases, all 10 or so – are devoted to commercial
spaces, hosting a series of businesses. In the case of many residential towers, the upper levels would have larger floor-to-
ceiling clearance and larger windows, thus better views. Vertical transportation is via lifts, escalators or stairs. Hong Kong
can host the longest escalators in the world such as the Langham Place commercial complex, spanning across four levels
and going up to 12 levels above ground and three of underground concourse of retail, leisure and commercial spaces
exceeding 60,000 square metres. Mass Transit Railway (MTR) stations are also intricate spaces with shops and restaurants
placed in a network of underground connections and tunnels with a myriad of entry and exit points. Once outside the MTR/
Langham Place, one finds narrow but deep building frontages hosting shops or restaurants. Many of these businesses are
named only in Cantonese, so unless you have done your homework and written down the address of a shop or restaurant
to try, it is rather hit and miss. Small interiors are of all kinds, ranging from micro-shops of less than 10 square metres to
whole- level restaurants of around 200 square metres. Spaces within.

3.2 Narrative 2: Weaving the porous urban spaces

Walking through the bustling Mong Kok area, I am reminded of the intricate urbanism flourishing in this northern part of the
Yau Tsim Mong district. While the gridiron plan strives to impose a strict urban order, the city’s life and heterarchical profile
suggests the opposite. On my southbound walk along Shanghai Street, I pass building after building, each radically different
in height and width. Some towers are formalised building types, such as pencil towers and podium buildings, while others
are mutants, remarkably thin with street frontages of less than 5 metres, yet reaching heights of four stories or more.

The unifying element, however, is the storefront, which occupies the ground floor of every building. As various in size as
the buildings they occupy, the selection of goods and services on offer is immense. Passing by the Mannings and 7Eleven
supermarkets, I encounter a local waffle bakery at the intersection of Pitt Street, and a rice store after that. On the other side
of the street are electrical equipment storefronts, offering everything from light bulbs and wires to pumps and pillar drilling
machines. Activities sometimes spill out from the small storefronts to occupy also the sidewalk. I pass a rope manufacturer
who, sitting on a plastic bucket, weaves rope for cargo ship mooring. Then, looking into one of the small storefronts, I detect
the reason for my visit. An open door at the back of the shop reveals a bright light filtering down into one of Mong Kok’s
alleyways, where I will walk on this overcast May day to collect data on porous urban space.

In Hong Kong’s hyper density, porous urban space serves as the interface between the urban landscape and the city’s
interior workplaces. The alleyways in Mong Kok can be utilised as agents of porous urban space. Perceived as a kind
of ‘hidden public space’, they challenge a series of normalised dichotomies such as public/private, formal/informal, and
exterior/interior. The alleyways are regulated spaces that tend to be occupied informally. Installed as a second means of
egress from tall buildings, they epitomize what the Greek scholar Stavros Stavrides refers to as “heterotopia”. Stavrides,
who draws on Michel Foucault’s discourse, argues that the “concept of heterotopia can describe a collective experience of
otherness, not as a stigmatizing spatial seclusion but rather as the practice of diffusing new forms of urban collective life”
(Stavrides, 2007). Recognising that strict spatial orders are dissolved in porous urban space, he uses the threshold as an
analogy to articulate its simultaneous connection with and separation from surrounding environments.

Porosity is the measure of void spaces in material, which determines the ratio of pore volume to total volume. It is
utilised in multiple fields in engineering to detect the total amount of void space accessible from a material’s surface.
Walter Benjamin and Asja Lacis used the porous rocks of Naples as an analogy for the city’s intricate network of spaces.
In their study of the characteristics of the dense Italian city, they observed how public life challenged the conventional
separation between urbanism and architecture by connecting the streets and plazas with interior courtyards and stairwells.
Porosity, they argued, is the “inexhaustible law of the life of this city, reappearing everywhere” (Benjamin and Lacis, 1978).
Conflating space and opportunity, the porous architecture of Naples served as a platform for socio-economic interaction
and improvisation.

The lessons from Naples assist my analysis of Mong Kok. When transcending between gridiron and alleyway, I experience
how improvisation and bottoms-up action serve to add porosity. The small storefront with an open door at the back that I
saw when walking down Shanghai Street, is a perfect example of the transformation of legal boundaries, such as property
lines, into porous borders. The storefront acts as a border to render ceremonies between the public agency of the customer
 Learning from dense cities: Hong Kong spatial constructs as narratives 757

and the private entity of the shopkeeper. When the door at the end of the interior space is kept open, the storefront is
immediately hybridised into an armature for public circulation. Thus, the light at the back of the store attracts customers,
who traverse the commercial space not only for reasons of trade but also because the door has been reconceptualised into
a threshold.

Unveiling the heterotopia of Mong Kok, the open door additionally serves as an analogue of heating, ventilation and air
conditioning (HVAC) systems. While it adds light to the gloomy interiors, it also provides cross-ventilation to improve thermal
comfort and indoor air quality. The narrow alleyway can thus be described as an airshaft, which coordinates a complex
system of air streams, flowing through the numerous small storefronts, apartments, and other spaces that constitute the
interface between the regulated gridiron and the informally populated alleyway.

If Richard Sennett is correct when he proclaims that “[m]aking buildings more porous will be one of the great challenges
of 21st Century (sic) architecture”, then the lessons learned from Mong Kok’s urban block may be useful for subsequent
practices (2018). When examining the urban porosity in Mong Kok, I decide to transgress the borders, using my own body
to challenge conventional dichotomies. A door in the alleyway, which has been installed for escape, is also an entrance.
Serving as a threshold to a new kind of public-private space mutation, it provides a second layer of analysis. Ascending the
labyrinth of stairwells, the barred gratings of dwelling spaces in the dilapidated housing estate let the air through, and the
gaze in. The sounds of children and the smells of food products thrive in the hallways and stairwells. I detect traces of fires
in the stairway landings, and the wall patina has been formed by mould, dirt, and excrement. Stepping onto the rooftop, I
sense the fragrances of plants and the breeze. The song birds, which are caged outside the informally occupied roof-cells,
remind me of the caged bird tradition in Hong Kong, and I spot the Yuanpu Street Bird Park on the other side of Mong Kok.

3.3 Narrative 3: The urban landscape of Hong Kong

The compactness of the city is closing in on me as I crisscross the northern coast of Hong Kong Island on a slender two-
storey tram. I board the ferry, on the route to North Point, in East Kowloon. Crossing Victoria Harbour, the body of water that
separates the peninsula of Kowloon from Hong Kong Island, I gaze upon the next generation of skyscrapers, climbing to
heights that are closer in scale to the surrounding natural landscape than the compact yet porous urban fabric at their feet.

The tram, en route from Shau Kei Wan to Kennedy Town, makes stops at Tin Hau, Causeway Bay, Wan Chai, Admiralty,
Central, Sheung Wan, Whitty Street, and Shek Tong Tsui – names that are often understood by the general public primarily
as transport hubs. Historically, though, these were the names of fishing villages, trade ports and military posts. They are
strategic locations on the shore, furthermore located at the mouth of a set of valleys that are perpendicular to the paramount
ridge that shapes the island.

The natural landscape has guided the urban development and the distribution of density in the city. The topography of
the area has initially determined the urban form following the settlement pattern described by Spiro Kostof (1999). However,
while initially clustered on the slopes of the valleys or on the thin strip of waterfront property between the harbour and the
mountain ridge, the urban fabric is now expanding uphill to previously unspoiled nature as well as spilling into the harbour
through land reclamation. A study of the impact of urbanisation on landscape continuity on Hong Kong Island shows a
significant increase in urbanised areas after the 1970’s, prompting a decrease in areas visually unobstructed by built-up land
(Levin, Singer, & Lai, 2013). The constraints on available land in the city have generated not only an exceptional density but
also a few iconic typologies: the pencil tower, the elevated walkway – or the double decker, as my co-author names it— and
the sitting-out area.

The pencil tower emerged in Hong Kong as one response to massive immigration following the Second World War. At
the end of the war, the population of Hong Kong was 600,000; by 1947, the total population was 1.8 million and by 1960,
it reached 3 million (Census and Statistic Department, 1973). A decade later, the population had already reached close to
4 million, and during the 1970’s it increased by 800,000 inhabitants (Census and Statistic Department, 1983). The annual
population growth has since been continual, with only one exception (Census and Statistic Department, 2018a). Today,
Hong Kong harbours 7.4 million inhabitants (Census and Statistics Department, 2018b).

Looking out from the upper level of the rickety tram, the pencil towers are mushrooming in front of me. Reaching
heights of 60 metres or more, their slender silhouettes are remarkable, though still visually subordinate to the mountain
ridge. Sometimes accommodating no more than one small apartment on each floor, the tiny footprints of the buildings are
a challenge to their structural integrity of the building. Somehow, this seems to be the only factor restraining them from
reaching even higher. Visually appealing, the small building footprint also add quality to the streetscape through a diverse
experience of storefronts and entrances when traveling through the city.

In contrast to the smaller scale of the streetscapes, the vertical scale is always conspicuous in Hong Kong. The vertical
distribution of programmes in pencil towers and other high-rise buildings has promoted a vertical lifestyle. Architects Adam
Frampton, Jonathan D. Solomon and Clara Wong (2012) even make the claim that the ground level in Hong Kong “does
not exists”. What makes this possible is not only the vertical programming but also the elevated walkways that connect
buildings with each other on various levels as well as with the surrounding landscape. The outdoor escalators climbing the
hillsides of the Central district is one of the city’s popular tourist attractions. This network of walkways creates a continuous
758 G. Aranda-Mena, PJ. Dahl and C. Dahl

circulation above, on, and below ground, causing a first-time visitor the sensation of “3D-confusion”. Am I supposed to take
the elevator down in order to access the walkway on the third floor, to then cross over to the neighbouring building’s fifth
floor, and from there exit to the street? No wonder maps don’t work in Hong Kong.

This multi-storey organisation of circulation not only causes the city the loss of a “ground” but also of the exterior, I would
claim. Increased accessibility spurs even more congestion, according to Rem Koolhaas’s canonical book Delirious New
York (1978). In Hong Kong, this is achieved through the elevated walkways. Consequently, the congestion of people attracts
commercial interest, and storefronts are a common sight on the second and third floors along these elevated walkways.
Koolhaas (ibid.) constructs his theory of congestion on the hypothesis that sufficient congestion causes a complete block
to be experienced as one building. In Hong Kong, the whole of the city seems to be interconnected into one continuous
space, an urban landscape of interiors.

The loss of the exterior is also manifested in the so-called sitting-out areas sprinkled though the city. They are small,
hardscape pocket parks with a little shade, a few benches and tables, and sometimes a playground. Their main purpose
is to offer the inhabitants of densely populated districts a place to rest, outside of the presumably cramped and loud
apartment interior. They are defined as “passive open space” by the Planning Department (Dahl, 2017).

Finally arriving in Kennedy Town, far west on Hong Kong Island, I alight the tram. Victoria Harbour is behind me, as is the
dense city. Here, the urban fabric opens up to the South China Sea. Passing through the usually guarded gates, I reach my
destination – a small harbour area along Shing Sai Road which is opened up to the neighbourhood during Sundays, formally
or informally is unclear. People of all ages are playing games on the vast tarmac or enjoying a picnic tucked in between
cargo of various kinds. To my left, the still unbuilt country park of Victoria Peak and Mount Davis closes in. Even nature is
dense in Hong Kong.

4. SUMMARY AND CROSS-DISCUSSION: LESSONS LEARNT

In the following section, the co-authors shift mode from the personal micro-narratives to cross-analysing and synthesising
shared experiences. Through the analysis, four main findings concerning ground, typology, programming and circulation
are concluded on.

The proliferation of densities in Hong Kong depends on the cultural understanding of and references to the concept
of ground. While Western cultures tend to render urban space through the dichotomies between figures and grounds,
which were cemented in 1748 by Giambattista Nolli (Verstegen and Ceen 2013), the non-Western influences that have
shaped Hong Kong accelerate performance in density by rendering the ground obsolete. Interior connections and porous
urban spaces oscillate between horizontality and verticality without referencing the ground as a universal datum for spatial
perception and navigation. With small and tricky plots, the construction industry has been forced to realise creative, often
hybrid, approaches to space and circulation – a practice that is often disregarded when land is cheap and easy to develop.
The spatial qualities rendered are worth further explorations.

The contemporary urban landscape of Hong Kong includes numerous types and typologies, which, invented or
advanced in the Southeast Asian metropolis, support the formation of sustainable environments in high density. The pencil
tower building type, for example, encompasses an architectural response to land scarcity and amplified density, while the
porous urban space describes a spatial typology in mutation between polarised dichotomies. The types and typologies of
object and space which proliferate in Hong Kong can be catalogued, analysed, evaluated, and exported. Applied to foreign
contexts through morphology, they can assist other cities in processes of densification.

The density and intensity of Hong Kong testifies to the possibilities of cross-programming in time and space. Cross-
programming in time happens through appropriation, formally or informally, like in the alleyways of Mong Kok and the
harbour area turned into public open space in Kennedy Town. The vertical programming is evident throughout the city. In
most cases, the programming formula consists of one main program supported by several amplifying programs. These are
the result(s) of smart business management. However, the city also showcases unexpected blends of vertical programmes,
for example public library plus highway and parking garage (cf. the building in the crossing of Shanghai Street and the
West Kowloon Corridor in Yau Ma Tei). Contrary to more commercial buildings, these are not the result of smart business
management but of necessity in a city where land is scarce. The ability to architecturally and legally meet such challenges
is a lesson to be taken from Hong Kong.

Vertical cross-programming is dependent on vertical circulation. Hong Kong demonstrates a diversity of vertical
circulation modes, ranging from conventional elevators to more city-specific solutions such as outdoor escalators and
elevated walkways. What is even more intriguing, and a topic for further studies, is the nested circulation that arises from the
congruence of urban porosity, a dramatic topography and vertical programming. Possibly, it is this nested circulation that
makes the city work despite its extreme density and intensity. If so, then cities under pressure for higher density could learn
from this systemic and spatial approach that moves beyond the conventions of plan drawing, property rights and public-
private dichotomies, and instead embraces continuity, connectivity and rhizomatic flow.
 Learning from dense cities: Hong Kong spatial constructs as narratives 759

What are the lessons to be taken from approaching a paper purely with a micro-narrative lens? First and foremost, it
adds important experiential knowledge in an otherwise dominant positivist research paradigm. Secondly and perhaps more
important, it allows for researchers to collaborate and synthesis findings cross disciplines. Working through the dynamics
of shifting geographies, yet with a common objective and outlined set of questions, this research contributes not only
with content but also with method. Autoethnography has provided a point of departure to convey personal views and
experiences of a myriad city. Yes, there are lessons learned but it is also clear that more questions need to be asked.
Academic research must engage with this realm if the research conducted is aiming at improving the liveability of densifying
cities. Important steps forward in terms of architectural materialisation are what is proposed above in terms of hybrid
spaces, nested circulation, and radical programming.

References

Abbott, A. (1992) “What do cases do? Some notes on activity in sociological analysis”, in C. C. Ragin & H. S. Becker (eds.), What is a
case? Exploring the foundation of social inquiry. p 53-82. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press.
Barab, S. and Squire, K. (2004) “Design-Based Research: Putting a Stake in the Ground”, The Journal of Learning Sciences, 13(1), pp.
1-14.
Benjamin, W. and Lacis, A. (1978) “Naples. In Walter Benjamin Reflections: Essays, Aphorisms, Autobiographical Writings”. Translated
by Jephcott, E and edited by Peter Demetz, 163-73. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Cuff, D. and Sherman, R. (2011), “Introduction”, in D. Cuff and R. Sherman (eds.), Fast Forward Urbanism: Rethinking Architecture’s
Engagement with the City (New York: Princeton Architectural Press), 10–33.
Dahl, PJ (2017) Exploring Design Potentials in Porous Urban Space: Split Vision Urbanism Hong Kong Through Montage. Research
Institute for Experimental Architecture. Proceedings Beyond ISM: The Landscape of Landscape Urbanism, Alnarp, Sweden,
October 19-21, 2016 pp. 117-124.
Diedrich, L., Lee, G. And Braae, E. (2014) “The Transect as a Method for Mapping and Narrating Water Landscapes: Humboldt’s
Open Works and Transareal Travelling”, Nano Journal. Accessed on September 1, 2018. http://www.nanocrit.com/issues/issue6/
transect-method-mapping-narrating-water-landscapes-humboldts-open-works-transareal-travelling
Frampton, A., Solomon, J., Wong, C. (2012) Cities Without Ground: A Hong Kong Guidebook. Publisher: ORO Editions. Paperback
128 pages ISBN: 978-1-935935-32-2
Koolhaas, R. (1978) Delirious New York. Oxford University Press. Paperback 320 pages ISBN 978-1885254009
Kostof, S. (1999) The City Shaped. Publisher: Thames & Hudson Limited. Paperback 352 pages ISBN10 0500280991
Le Corbusier (1923) Towards an architecture. Original title ‘Vers une Architecture’. Translator John Goodman (1927). Paperback ISBN
0-89236-822-5
Levin, M., Singer, M. E., & Lai, P. C., (2013) Incorporating Topography into Landscape Continuity Analysis—Hong Kong Island as a
Case Study. Land Journal, 2(4), 550-572 Open Access Land; ISSN 2073-445X
Sennett, R. (2015) Qant: The Public Realm. Essay on Gaimbattista Nolli http://www.richardsennett.com/site/senn/templates/general2.
aspx?pageid=16&cc=gb. Accessed July, 2018
Stavrides, Stavros. “Heterotopias and the Experience of Porous Urban Space.” In Loos Space: Possibility and Diversity in Urban Life,
edited by Karen A. Franck and Quentin Stevens, 174-92. New York: Routledge, 2007.
Swaffield, S. & Deming, M. E. (2011) ”Research strategies in landscape architecture: mapping the terrain”, Journal of Landscape
Architecture, 6:1, 34-45, DOI: 10.1080/18626033.2011.9723445
Verstegen, I. and Ceen, A. (2013) Giambattista Nolli and Rome: Mapping the City before and after the Pianta Grande. Publisher
Studium Urbis. Length 261 pages. ISBN 1105989704, 9781105989704
760

View publication stats