My architect friend asked me today what I thought about the Xiqu Centre in Hong Kong. Since I am not an architect, it is difficult for me to think in architectural terms. However, as a cultorologist, I find the building rather strange. Not in a bad way — it just feels the exact opposite of how I am imagining myself a building would be. I am not saying this lightly since postmodernist architecture is nothing new. By now, everyone and their small children have gone through the basic exploration of Lloyds Building and Centre Pompidou. Even Hong Kong has its own bowellist building — Norman Foster’s HSBC Headquarters. We also have two Zaha Hadid buildings (in one of which the architect friend is directly involved in. I know, I am boasting about my awesome friends here.) But Xiqu is different — on the outside, it is a fractal-like dynamic pattern that is all waves, inspired by part-sand-dunes, part-H.R.Geiger’s Alien filmset nightmare.
On the other hand, much of the interior is an empty open space with the feeling of being an open public space that cannot be locked, bolted or closed. The entry and exit points are very high and irregular in shape, and any attempt to shut up the space shall reveal an ugly forced effort to do something unnatural to the structure. Realising this makes it hard to continue imagining it as a building. In other words, what is seen from the outside as the building isn’t a building at all but rather a cover. In short, Xiqu is an antithesis to the bowellist aesthetics — rather than being inside-out, it is outside-in.
In the assumed anti-bowellist spirit, the actual functional inside is a part of the walls. It feels like it is smeared on the vast surface of the empty interior gigantic shell. It’s almost as the interior is envisioned as the structure’s secondary feature.
The actual theatre, something that should have been the centrepiece of the centre, but for the reasons mentioned above isn’t, is not a bad space. The imitation of the traditional Chinese teahouse is inoffensive, and the atmosphere is somewhat similar to the Kabuki Theatre in Tokyo, although it lacks both the opulence and the historical gravitas that Kabuki-za has accumulated over the century of its existence. The contrast between the realness of the tearoom and the void of the main space contributes to the heightened perception of authenticity of the Chinese opera experience.
One disappointing aspect of the building, aside from the lack of reasonable parking facilities, non-existent retail planning, and poor expectations management, is that Feng shui was ignored entirely in the planning and construction of the structure. Feng shui is not a part of my worldview, however, if you wish to build a building that celebrates the ancient oral traditions of the Guandong region, the least you should do is follow one of the most revered protocols for architecture in this area. At the British Museum in London, we can clearly recognise the colonial architecture, incorporating many elements from Ancient Greek and Roman traditions. That makes perfect sense since Britain is, or at least has been, a major colonial power, which has been relentlessly plundering Greek and Roman artefacts and filling the Museum with them. Essentially, the form fits the function, and the museum is the package that clearly states what is contained within. It is my opinion that this is a critical omission in Xiqu.
