Have you seen this chair?
Help me preserve a small piece of Old Shanghai
One of the reasons I like my part of Shanghai is because it feels old and lived in. It’s got character. One of the reasons I don’t like my part of Shanghai is because it’s being knocked down, one beautiful brick building at a time. It makes me sad — and I’m not even one of the thousands of longtime residents being displaced in the name of “progress.” Every day — well, every day I actually make it out of my apartment/office — I walk past an old man in a stocking cap who sits alone on a ratty chair next to one of the narrow walkways that lead into one of these labyrinthian longtang neighborhoods. His days consist of little more than resting on his cane and watching the world go by, a popular avocation for the elderly on Madang Lu. Yesterday, I saw him fiddling with his dentures. I always try to say hello to the man. And he always looks a little startled, giggles and then says hello back. I wonder when his house will be demolished. I wonder when he’ll get shuttled out to the suburbs to live out his years. I wonder if someone will say hello to him out there. I hope so.
My friend Henry grew up in in the apartment I now call home. During a visit last year, he looked out the window of his former bedroom — it’s on the 13th floor — and remarked how dramatically the view had changed. He used to see nothing but tile roofs. The tile roofs are still there — some of them, at least — but they sit in the shadows of tall apartment buildings. No doubt more of these uniformly ugly creations are on their way. Every morning I wake up to two sounds: construction and destruction. Odd how they often sound the same. Henry has lived abroad for nearly a decade and now makes his home in Atlanta. He appeared visibly frustrated by the fact that those who seemed most interested in preserving Old Shanghai were foreigners. Henry said 10 or 20 years from now — maybe sooner — Shanghainese are going to look upon a homogeneous mass of high-rises and wonder: “What have we done to our city?”
If I had a lot of money — and plenty of governmental guanxi — I’d buy an entire city block of these old neighborhoods and fix them up, preserve them. I don’t have a lot of money. I don’t even have a little money. So my preservation of Old Shanghai must start on a slightly smaller scale — a $3.75 wooden chair.
They sell things at the deconstruction sites. Wood. Bricks. Doors. Nails. Anything. So at least they’re recycling. My chair was resting crooked on a pile of rubble, in front of a line of unhinged doors with peeling paint. I didn’t know anything about the chair — I still don’t — but there was something about it that I liked. Its weather-worn wood spoke to me. The chair had personality, if not a seat. It had a history. It had obviously been through a lot — but it wasn’t quite ready to become kindling. I had to have it.
I’m not quite sure how the business side of the deconstruction business works here in Shanghai, but it was easy to tell who I had to go through to get my chair. One man, dressed in green worker’s clothes, was guarding the goods. He was friendly and smiling, probably because he had the easiest gig on the knockdown crew. Next to the makeshift wall that separates the ruins from the sidewalk sat a makeshift shack. Did he live there?
The man wanted 80 kuai (about $10) for someone else’s chair. He settled for 30. I picked up my prize and started my three-block walk back home. On the way, I stopped where they were knocking down another neighborhood to see if I could find my chair a partner. No luck. But I did find two construction workers — they appeared to be foremen — who told me that I had been ripped off. They would not have paid more than 10 kuai — about a buck and a quarter — for my chair. And so I walked on, and got pointed at and laughed at then entire way. Ha! Ha! Look at the silly tall white man with the old chair that has no seat! He likely paid $2.50 more than he should have for that! Their reaction did not surprise me. It reminded me of Mr. Shi’s now mildly famous quote: “I am not interested in old things.” That sentiment is common here.
I want to prove the hecklers wrong. I want to return my chair to its former glory. And if it never had a glory, I want to give it one. I’m comfortable enough with my sexuality to admit that I’ve long been a sucker for the makeover show (but, obviously, I’m not comfortable enough with my sexuality to admit that fact without prefacing the statement with “I’m comforatble enough with my sexuality to admit that …”). It started back in the 80s with This Old House marathons and The Frugal Gourmet on PBS. I liked the idea of taking a run-down home or some raw ingredients and creating something beautiful. Over the years, this interest morphed into my tuning in to different (and gayer) before-and-after programming like Trading Spaces or, most recently, Queer Eye For The Straight Guy. Hell, there was a time when I would even watch Jenny Jones — but only if it was one of her “I’m Smart and My Looks Are Off The Hook, But Guys Don’t Give Me a Second Look!” makeover shows. I just like seeing things reach their full potential, whether they be homes, food, living rooms, straight men or skank-ass hos.
I’d like to do this for my chair. I’d like to give it a makeover — not an extreme makeover, but at least give it a seat. I could use your help though, because I have no idea what my chair’s full potential is. I don’t know anything about it. I don’t know how old it is — the guy who sold it to me said he thought it was from the Kuomintang era, which is roughly 1912-1949 — and I don’t know what it should look like once it is made over. Maybe it’s just a common dining room chair. That’d be fine. I just want to know. So, if you are an old chair buff or you are Chinese or if you are just curious, please take a look at the photos of the chair. If you have any information, thoughts or suggestions, I’d love to hear from you. I’d like to start fixing this thing up … I just have no idea where to start.
Come to think of it, maybe I should go ask my old friend who spends his days sitting by the side of the road. Maybe he could help me. I hope he’s still there tomorrow.
- Blues in the City: From May 2003, I explore the ruins of an Old Shanghai neighborhood … and realize people are still living there. (Photos)
- Build Me Up, Tear Me Down: A magazine story I wrote in Spring 2003 about historic preservation — or the lack thereof — in Shanghai.
04.09.2005, 2:12 AM · Observations
11 Comments
You guys “looked out the window of his former bedroom — it’s on the 13th floor”…
I’m sure you would have had different views if you had lived in those deconstructing houses.
I would like to support that “preserve” the old but good buildings, but you can’t stop the city from a healthy and necessary development. You can’t enjoy the convenient and vivid “expat” life in Shanghai while dreaming the the mass who are living here for generations stay in the old routine forever.
Without the bloody development, shanghai wouldn’t be the same, great place you like today.
It’s only my two cents.
Take care.
Arale,
Go to Europe. Go to New York City. You will see that it is possible to have “healthy development” and historic preservation. But I guess that depends on what your definition of healthy development is. Is it throwing up poorly built, inefficient and ugly apartment buildings in the same place every 15 or 20 years? Most new apartment buildings here start falling apart after five years or so. Leave them around much longer than that and they become eyesores. Inside and out. Believe me, I know. I live in one … on the 13th floor.
On the other hand, Shanghai’s early 20th Century architecture that is still standing has, without proper care and maintenance, managed to retain its charm. Its presence is what makes Shanghai “the great place [I] like today.” Now, are the living conditions in Shanghai’s old neighborhoods acceptable? No. Far from it. Improvements that should have been made over time were, for whatever reason, not. Does that mean we should just knock them all down? It shouldn’t. Dont blame the buildings for human error. How about we spend some of the millions we’re spending on new construction to preserve old construction. I have a feeling we’d get more years out of our investment that way.
And this is not just about the buildings, it’s about the people in them. Sure, they deserve modern living condidtions. But they don’t deserve to be kicked out of a lifelong home, to be ripped apart from lifelong friends and neighbors in the name of your “healthy development.” They don’t deserve to be given a fraction of what their property is worth and forced to move to a remote suburb that is Shanghai in name only.
But what we’re dealing with here is largely a cultural difference. Modern Asia has a habit of tearing down and building up. That’s just the way it is. Who am I to try and force my Western values on a country that has different ones? This city belongs to the Chinese — or, at least, the Chinese government. If they want to tear down its history, that’s their decision.
But I’m still allowed to voice my disapproval.
Dan
P.S. So I guess you don’t know anything about the chair?
The only way that ‘old Asia’ gets preserved is when ‘new Asia’ realizes that it can be profitable to do so. In S’pore, they’ve made a number of historical sites open for private owners, the ‘Chijmes’ ex-convent now f&b area is one of the most outstanding examples, but there are others. Here, similarly, the ‘Face ’ bar and a few other places are in historical buildings renovated for private-sector use. My flat isn’t ancient, it’s 1941, but they renovated the inside and are renting it at a price that all of my co-workers think is murderous for the area (though its still far cheaper than S’pore). The best way to preserve old Shanghai is to show that you’re willing to pay for it. The chair purchase was a good way to do that, even if you were mocked. Next, try getting out of the high-rise and move into a place with ancient heating and plumbing (or, better still, an old building with new plumbing).
About the people in the buildings, that’s a tragedy. After spendiing a few generations in a family home, that family should earn some property rights. But the state owns all of the land here. If they could sell instead of being evicted, they may not mind the relocation nearly as much - central-Shanghai property prices are nearly at the peak of the price bubble, this is a great time to sell. For a family below middle-class levels, it could be a windfall.
The public restrooms in Shanghai would certianly benefit from a chair like this. I am so tired of squatting, I could tolerate a few splinters in my arse!
On Thursday night before my latin dance classes at the Worker’s Cultural Palace on People’s Square, I walked up to the roof of the building. As I looked towards the Bund, I noticed that there is a neighborhood of two-story, tile-roofed houses, not two blocks off of the Square. I told John today that my next project is to find out how to rent a house in there, and how much it would cost a month. My contract on this (17th floor, what a coincidence) probably 1970’s suburban apartment runs out in October, and I’d really like to move into a place I can put a little elbow grease into and feel proud of. Just like your chair.
Which I know nothing about.
Dan,
I went to Europe, I went to NYC. Yes, you’re right - it’s always right to preserve history, and it’s always right to respect people. You’re also right that there is culture difference. The 5,000-year history dose leave a huge gap between western (or, American) and eastern value. Maybe I’m wrong on the definition of “healthy development”, but this is not only happening in Shanghai-is there anyone reading this from Boston? I like Boston, I mean, I LOVE Boston, but I’ve never said anything about the Big Dig project there…
Speaking with hands crossed is much easier than working with sleeves rolled up. I don’t like those ugly apartment buildings either, and watching the hard life of migrating workers makes me cry sometimes.
But it is developing. It is a city with almost the shortest history in China. Yes, it is polluted, and crowded, but those porjects put all of us together toward the better future.
No. I don’t know the history of the chair. My grandparent had one like that 25 years ago, in the restroom of their old house.
-arale
So what are you going to do with this chair? Obviously you can’t sit on it.
Hello, first time comment. Dan, do you know the purpose of that antique you just purchased?
Myrick,
[T]ry getting out of the high-rise and move into a place with ancient heating and plumbing …
My high-rise — built in the 1980s, I believe — does seem to have ancient plumbing and heating. Does that count?
Arale,
My grandparent had one like that 25 years ago, in the restroom of their old house.
Exactly what was the chair used for in your grandparents’ bathroom. Is it what I can imagine it was used for? Did I buy a “toilet seat”?
LW,
So what are you going to do with this chair? Obviously you can’t sit on it.
Well, the goal is to fix the chair and actually give it a seat. That is the task I am looking for advice on.
Big Wang,
Dan, do you know the purpose of that antique you just purchased?
Nope. Do you? Honestly, I’m not even sure if it’s an antique.
Dan,
My grandparents used that as “toilet seat”, but I’m not sure if it was made “specially” for this purpose. I thought they just made use of a broken chair.
Dan,
The style is comparable to American Victorian and Eastlake style, probably circa 1900s and made out of solid walnut with wicker top. You can re-weave the seat with fiber rush or wicker or cover it with hard leather/press board or the easy way, just cover the bottom with plywood and cover the top with a cushion with strings attached to the chair. Don’t forget to tighten the chair before recaning. If you don’t have clamps, you can tighten it with ropes and let the glue drys for 24 hours.
the following site is very helpful,
http://www.countryseat.com/faqseats.htm