Forgotten city

Author: Deng Kunyan / Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: Deliberately erasing architecture, unintentionally forgetting tradition, the fading elegance and refinement—how much more cultural loss can we endure? Cities of Memory collects Deng Kunyan's recent perspectives and critiques on urban culture. While the first two books were serious due to their focus on reality, this series is the first authorized publication in mainland China by Deng Kunyan, the UN "Heritage Conservation Award" winner and architect. It includes his personal accounts and achievements in preserving historical architecture—The Revolution of Space; his experimental architectural works that earned him acclaim in the fashion world—Mayfly Architecture; a collection of essays on urban cultural critique—Cities of Memory; and his influential architectural travelogue—Eyes on the Roam.
Although in the past two or three decades, we have blindly and hastily built Taipei into the greedy city it is today with clumsy wisdom and ignorant knowledge, I have always held a dream for her, hoping that one day she would become a beautiful city. But as time passes, this beautiful dream seems increasingly impossible to realize. Whenever I think of this, I often feel regret and guilt for the young Taiwanese people of my generation, who have never seen the beautiful Taiwan we have destroyed. I grow more pessimistic with each passing day.
This Taipei city was once planned by ignorant urban planners with uniformity, resulting in this monotonous urban skyline, criticized not only by professionals but even by the public. Those who have traveled abroad and seen the skylines of other cities can only lament the city they call home. This debt is unclear—should it be placed on the Japanese? The KMT? Neither is entirely correct. It should be the accumulated urban planning regulations of Taipei over decades, which, through their restrictions on building development space, have led to this disastrous outcome.
I admit that Taipei's architects have little room for choice under such regulations. Even the best architects may have to submit to this unchanging, rigid system. I truly hope this Taipei city could have some beautiful and dynamic urban skylines. It is urgent to boldly open restrictions on building heights. Height restrictions affect the beauty of the urban sky, while floor-area ratios influence the aesthetic form of buildings—this is a war game between developers, investors, and building laws.
Constrained by height limits, and with land unit area ratios unchangeable, even the most talented architects can only design the criticized "matchbox" buildings we see today. The only remaining play is the superficial decoration of mosaics, tiles, marble, or glass curtain walls. An architect with some talent, without enough patience, would suffocate under these constraints. Only those in the architectural profession can understand why Taipei's buildings look so ugly—this is hard for outsiders to grasp.
Besides height restrictions and floor-area ratios, which primarily affect building form, regulations on balconies, lighting, escape stairs, and roof projections also significantly impact architectural design. Even the best building forms are limited in expression without ample window openings and roof variations. While it's easy to revise laws, lively laws require lively architectural talent to apply and develop them—a problem we have long been concerned about: the overall quality of architectural professionals.
If a genius architect emerges, it would be a blessing for this land. But geniuses are rare, and their limited output cannot significantly improve the urban landscape. Personally, I believe we must raise the overall quality of architectural professionals. If the current Taiwanese population is inherently inferior in architectural form and related literacy, there's nothing to say; but if the essence is not poor, only the environment and education have failed, then I believe this is at least something we can strive to improve. Educational methods and content can show results over two or three generations.
In fact, in recent years, young Taiwanese architectural students have access to more abundant and diverse resources than I did when I studied. More have studied abroad, bringing back a variety of foreign architectural knowledge, concepts, and techniques—a hopeful sign. However, it's also clear that many unconsciously carry a colonial cultural mindset, teaching and doing what they learned abroad without considering whether it suits this land. Sometimes, their work even creates urban and architectural landscapes that make us more ashamed.
I wonder when our architectural professionals will awaken and start thinking about what buildings on this land should truly look like, rooted in their own cultural traditions. Perhaps only then can Taiwanese architecture truly find its contemporary identity.
Imagine a day when laws are perfected, and talented people are available—what remains is the issue of owners. Building owners come in all forms—individuals, companies, construction firms, and government agencies—with vast differences in quality. My experience tells me that the fundamental problem in creating good architecture, interior design, or landscape is having a good owner. First, they must have sufficient financial resources. Second, a sense of architectural taste. Third, a strong sense of architectural mission. Fourth, the ability to find the right architect and grant them full understanding and authority. Only with these qualities can one be considered a good owner.
Many in the construction industry have longed for this, but it is rare and hard to come by. In Taiwan, where a mentality of sudden wealth still lingers, good owners are as rare as phoenixes. An architect may go their entire life without encountering one. Even if they do, they lack the experience and refinement to build a great structure.
Even if all these conditions are met, who knows if Taiwan will still have such wealth and momentum in the future. If Taiwan were to one day resemble many regions in Europe or the U.S. and cease to develop or accumulate wealth, what would be the point of having the above conditions? It remains a question.
Thus, while I also work primarily in architecture and interior design, watching Taipei's development to this point leaves me increasingly pessimistic about the future of its urban landscape.
May 1996