As China has rapidly developed in recent decades, not everywhere has developed at the same breakneck speed. Even within major cities, the pace of development has been so uneven that you can see it in the physical urban surroundings, where old dilapidated bungalows linger in the shadows of shiny modern towers.
Perhaps nowhere is this uneven development more apparent than in Shanghai, where architectural legacies, planning policies and economies of scale have produced a true Frankenstein's monster of a metropolis. As the below photos show, the old centre of Shanghai is a diverse tapestry of styles. From traditional terraced houses and European-style villas, to art deco apartments, mundane tower blocks and futuristic skyscrapers.
For someone as curious about China's recent history and socio-economic development as I am, to explore old Shanghai is to be a kid in a candy store. While working in the city over the past year, one of my favourite pastimes has been to walk around Shanghai's unique urban spaces, simply observing and taking photos. It's become an unhealthy obsession, in fact, but one that I justify by the fact that these places are disappearing.
This year, I've seen old Shanghai's disappearance first hand. With much of the world distracted by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, the Shanghai city authorities have taken the opportunity to accelerate a programme of demolition and redevelopment underway since the 1980s. But what fascinates me is not how much of the city is being destroyed; rather, I'm amazed by how much of Shanghai's historic core is left lying in an uncertain state of seemingly endless abandonment and destruction. In a city of the scale and complexity of Shanghai, this kind of change does not happen smoothly or easily.
And it leaves me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I find it sad that traditional urban living spaces are being torn down and replaced by homogenous modern alternatives. On the other hand, I feel lucky to have the opportunity to explore these relics and enjoy the unique sense of discovery that they offer. This exploration is possible because the buildings are typically left vacant for a long time before they are eventually demolished or redeveloped.
Over the coming year, I hope to spend more time documenting these changes to the urban fabric of Shanghai, Beijing and possibly other Chinese cities (pandemic conditions permitting). And I intend to share my thoughts in further blog articles, perhaps even with the eventual aim of writing a long-form research paper.
For now, here are a few snapshots of details that I have found particularly interesting on my walks through old Shanghai. These observations were mostly made in the districts of Huangpu and Jing'an, including the parts of those districts that were historically called Zhabei and Luwan (before administrative mergers in the late 2010s).
In many areas marked for expropriation and demolition, buildings are in a state of serious disrepair and many are clearly not habitable.
One reason for this severe neglect is the fact that the residents of these old neighbourhoods have come to expect their houses to one day be expropriated, and so they have been disincentivized to invest in the buildings' upkeep.
In fact, by leaving the buildings to deteriorate, some home owners may have hoped that their chances of forced relocation and handsome compensation would increase.
This prolonged state of conscious neglect is suspected of being a strategy used not just by residents, but also by city planners, so that they can justify bulldozing heritage architecture.
Plaques indicating "protected" status can be found on many dilapidated dwellings, which should (in theory at least) make them safe from demolition.
The bulk of Shanghai's old terraced housing stock dates back to the city's pre-war boom era almost a century ago, as indicated by dates on many of the building facades.
The historic quality of this architecture is clearly discernible from its materials and details that would not typically be found in modern residential buildings in China.
Beneath the chaos of electric wiring and other modern additions, intricate carvings can be seen in eaves and porticos.
Such embellishments would have been incorporated by the building's owner as a sign of status and wealth.
Haphazard electric wiring is a common sight in these old communities.
To clear residents from these areas, the Shanghai authorities implement a standard set of basic measures, a playbook that has been perfected over decades of undertaking large-scale expropriations.
As these images show, one such measure is to block off vacated buildings with plywood, cinder blocks or metal sheets.
At the same time, the entrances to these areas are gradually blocked off so as to restrict access.
In some places, security guards are on watch and surveillance cameras have been installed.
"No through road" reads this spray-painted message.
"Demolition area: unauthorized personnel are strictly forbidden to enter."
Restricting access in this way makes it highly inconvenient if not impossible for anyone to continue living or squatting inside these sealed off houses.
Once an area has been successfully vacated, the authorities will usually mark the buildings with spray paint.
At this location in Zhabei, spray paint has been used to mark the address, the floorspace and the even number of times a building has been sealed.
In other places, sealed-up buildings are left bare with few or no markings.
"Expropriated parcel of land", "Expropriated parcel of land"...
Piles of cinder blocks can often be found sitting (ominously) at roadsides, awaiting deployment on newly vacated properties.
Despite all of this boarding and blocking up, some people choose to keep living here.
In many cases, they will be the guardians of ancestral homes where they have lived since birth.
For those who continue to inhabit Shanghai's old lane houses, the communities are a shadow of their former selves, and in many cases have become eerily desolate.
Elderly residents and scavengers roam the lanes looking for any last objects of value or materials that can be sold for recycling.
For further reading about scavengers, take a look at these interesting stories by the Shanghai-based media company SixthTone.
The government continues to negotiate with remaining residents in the form of propaganda posters, banners and notices posted to the front doors of homes.
The slogans aim to clearly spell out the reasons for the expropriations, and can sometimes be rather poetic, as in the examples below.
"Sunny expropriation, improved living, collective participation" (left) and "Sunny expropriation, earliest agreement, the masses are satisfied" (right).
"Accelerate the pace of the old city expropriations; improve the living and environment of residents!"
"Conscientiously listening to the opinions of residents; actively welcoming the participation of residents".
"Expropriated according to standards. Serviced enthusiastically. Residents participate. Democratic and fair."
This notice announces that a vegetable market in an old part of Huangpu District was to be shuttered in November last year (though it was still operating when I passed by in December).
Nearby, a notice on the door of a large residence informs the occupants of the terms of their property's expropriation, including the value of the compensation they are entitled to and the details of new apartments assigned to them.
In another example, seen within the Laoximen sub-district, this letter from an engineering company gave the occupant seven days to vacate the premises, after which the door would be sealed and the water and power supplies turned off.
Note how it was posted in February 2017, almost four years ago, and yet the building had not yet been demolished or repurposed when I was there in late 2020.
On this door, a notice identifies all of the occupants who live there and the terms of the relocation and compensation they have been offered.
Note that most of the apartments are valued at around 2.6 million yuan each, that's roughly 400,000 US dollars or 300,000 British pounds, for an area of 50 square metres.
Outside this residence, which had only recently been vacated, the notice on the door is accompanied by a pile of blocks ready to seal up the door and windows.
Once vacated and sealed, entire rows of houses are often whitewashed or covered in a façade of brick-effect tiles while they sit awaiting demolition or redevelopment.
Some are even adorned with painted murals like these in Jing'an District.
While the murals are very tastefully done, there is something I find quite disturbing about fake people and shopfronts taking the place of real human life.
These façades seem designed to avoid eyesores for neighbours or passers by, and perhaps to discourage graffiti, adverts or other undesirable alternatives.
Yet they often spoil the beauty of original brick masonry, and are not always able to conceal scenes of destruction within.
It is not long before the paint or tiles start to crumble and become eyesores themselves.
Elsewhere, murals on the wall of a vacant lot double as discreet advertisements for a telecoms company's 5G rollout.
Notice how the girl looks out of her old lane house window to a scene of skyscrapers in Pudong District, the epitome of modern Shanghai.
Meanwhile, another painted character seems content to hang up socks while keeping the window on modernity firmly closed.
Given how little investment has gone into maintaining Shanghai's historic lane houses, it is remarkable how much effort goes into erecting these painted façades.
These temporary masonry walls are the first step in preparing a site for new construction, such as at this community in Huangpu District.
Sometimes the walls are covered in large posters that inform onlookers of what the new developments may end up looking like.
In this corner of Laoximen, the old houses have not yet been fully expropriated, yet new buildings adjacent are already nearing completion.
In this case, a new residential compound has been built in a style emulating the old Shanghai lane houses.
While it's nice to see traditional techniques and styles being incorporated, these new builds lack the charm of their historic predecessors.
While new houses are constructed, some of the old ones are often temporarily repurposed as site offices, bedrooms or canteens for workers.
And vacant sites are turned into parking lots.
Notice how this site, next to a condemned community of old lane houses, is now a grassy field.
Many of Shanghai's terraced houses were built on mudflats without good foundations or drainage, which has been one factor in their physical demise.
Despite all of the destruction and development, Shanghai's old homes are clearly still full of stories.
Even after they have been emptied of people, tell-tale signs of humanity spur the imagination to wonder what life was once like.
Antique wooden chests, traditionally used to store family heirlooms or a bride's dowry, are discarded by their inheritors, along with other old wooden furniture.
Objects are collected on mass by the demolition companies to be resold as scrap, like this truck load of old metal bed frames.
Just think of all the dreams and nightmares that these beds must have seen.
Here, a pile of grease-covered gas meters awaits collection.
And here a load of fire extinguishers, which would have been issued to the residents of structures deemed to be flammable.
One typical feature of Shanghai lane houses are outdoor sinks placed in alleys outside front doors, or even in the stairwells and balconies of subdivided houses.
In this photo, a man uses one of these sinks to wash his pots.
As well as people, other creatures also still inhabit these old lane houses.
On streets that have not yet been condemned, people go about their business as usual.
Another clear sign of life in Shanghai is the hanging of laundry that occupies every available space on a good weather day.
And sometimes it is not just laundry that is being hung up to dry...
For the hangers on and squatters of old Shanghai, life continues. Some of them probably even appreciate the new quiet and space created by the departure of other residents.
Here, someone decided to make the space inside the front gate into a makeshift al fresco kitchen, now that most of the community's former residents have left.
For more on the human stories of old Shanghai, see this fascinating interview of a lifelong resident of the historic Laoximen neighbourhood by journalist Matthew Walsh.
Concluding Thoughts
As this photo essay has hopefully shown, Shanghai's old communities are in some ways quite sad places, but in other ways very special.
They contain a static, momentary quality, like they are somehow caught in a time that is neither 'now' nor 'then', as the photographer Greg Girard has commented.
To find this sense of stillness and transience within a bustling metropolis of 25 million people is rather magical.
So if you're ever in Shanghai (once intercontinental travel becomes easier), be sure to explore the old parts of the city. Otherwise, stay tuned for more of my photos and thoughts.
