Consider the past. From ancient times, builders have faced the same general problem: how best to shape space to make it serve desired functions. From the earliest Chinese single-floor dwellings of the Shang Dynasty (16-11th Century B.C.) to modern times, buildings have had to consider feng-shui, the forces of "wind and water" in traditional geomancy. Aside from propitiating the powers of Yin and Yang that suffuse the environment, practical considerations such as wind, light, and drainage challenged builders of yesterday no less than today.
Beyond necessities and comforts, however, the aesthetic dimension of architecture has invariably been present. Design, like function, often responded to the demands of feng-shui, and this is especially true in the development of Chinese windows. Because windows in a sense "shape the wind," their geomantic function is obvious, but no less important is their role in shaping the mind. Window contours, colors, and lattice patterns have a lengthy aesthetic history that lies at the heart of Chinese architectural development.
Ceramic models of houses from the Han Dynasty (B.C. 206-220 A.D.) illustrate an already advanced window art, with different shapes and functions matched by aesthetic appeal. Because most homes, including their windows, were constructed of wood and other insubstantial materials, there are few actual examples of early window styles available for examination. There is little doubt, however, that the motifs common to the Ming (1368-1644) and Ching (1644-1911) Dynasties have deep roots in the past.
For thousands of years these window motifs—often matched by doors—have permeated Chinese culture, frequently occurring as subjects in poetry, painting, and philosophical metaphor. Despite changing patterns and tastes in architectural language, early builders always encountered one constant: low buildings, usually of one or two stories. But one modern invention has created a whole new set of architectural problems.
Enter the elevator. Beyond developments in steel, concrete, reinforcing bars, and the like, the elevator revolutionized construction. Suddenly, high-rises were possible, with all their usefulness in cramped cities begging for space. But the move upwards has had mammoth impact upon the cultural dimensions of architecture. The lengthy Chinese tradition is no exception.
The three and four-bay houses of the past, for example, require space now too expensive to use for simple courtyards, despite their historic appeal to an ethical system based on the extended-family system and to the requirements of feng-shui. The economics of modernization and population growth dictate change. Taiwan is a clear example of this. And changing it is. But local architects disdain wholesale rejection of tradition, and are seeking ways to save, integrate, and—if necessary—adapt it for modern construction that will preserve ancient aesthetic sensitivities.
The courtyard arrangement is lost, irretrievably except for the very rich who can afford land, but what about windows? Herein lies rich potential that quite clearly has not been adequately tapped by contemporary architects, despite scattered attempts to experiment with variations on "moon-shaped" windows. The "cages" that enclose standard square and rectangular windows on so many high-rise family apartments are stuck on buildings without an iota of aesthetic taste. Moreover, their bar designs are overwhelmingly commonplace, which is startling when one thinks of the wealth of lattice work patterns in wood that could easily be replicated in stainless steel, oxidized metals, aluminum, and ceramics.
Traditionally, interior-exterior windows have been divided into four generalized types, each with thousands of possible variations on the basic form. The ke shan can actually be hinged and become a door. It is usually rectangular with the height considerably greater than the width. Divided into unequal fourths—compared with the body's head, torso, legs, and feet—the top and bottom two fourths are usually carved while the "torso" is latticed. Lattice meshwork was originally necessary to support the semi-opaque paper "windows" in pre-glass years. Oftentimes the paper was not used, permitting more light and air to enter the house. Depending upon the density of the lattice, such windows could serve as visual barriers or as appealing visual links to the outside. The latter function, quite common in the chien chuang—a window that replaced the "legs" and "feet" of the ke shan with a wall—created an aesthetic continuum with other rooms, with outside gardens, or with the courtyard itself. Both windows could be used in interior walls as well.
The chih chai chuang is a variation of the chien chuang. A popular form, the window is laterally divided, allowing the top half to swing upwards and allow more light and greater air circulation. Like the chien chuang, it may be found in a broad range of shapes, all of which could be integrated into modern buildings if architects considered the possibility.
The heng pi is less a window than a high, restricted opening to allow ventilation. No less than modern homes, early buildings required slight movement of air along beams to reduce moisture and prevent rot, as well as aid in cooling. Traditionally, the heng pi lattice and patterned designs, which were often in ceramic, had to be small enough to prevent entry by small birds and bats. The different requirement stimulated intricate designs that often may be found repeated in larger form in other window styles.
Despite the rapid loss low-rise dwellings in Taiwan, there need not be wholesale departure from architectural tradition. The search for a new "Chinese style" now being sought by man, of Taiwan's better architects is indicative of a deeply-felt need to keep current life rooted in the past. One of the most flexible and powerful structural aesthetics is waiting for those with creative talents. Chinese windows, with their complex cultural heritage, seem an obvious choice for integration into modern architectural forms What remains to be found are architects who can match aesthetic tradition with the new demands of function.