Taiwan Today

A Chinese garden belong to the outdoors—that is, except when it serves the purposes of interior design. To beautify indoor space, why not bring the garden inside and let the wide open, naturalistic space serve man's needs there too? Certainly, the major role of the landscaping would remain the same. Architect Wong Wing-hung decided he would rather be one to implement this idea, even if he was not the first to conceive it. Selecting the classical "Soochow garden" as the most representative traditional garden form, Wong has emphatically proved that indoor and outdoor space can interchange in ways that confirm the values of Chinese architecture and modern living at the same time. The classical Chinese residential dwelling and the Soochow garden are contrasting forms in Chinese architectural lore, the dwelling representing strictness and order, the garden, the casual and carefree. Say "Chinese architecture," and we immediately think of old palaces and temples, intricately painted in many colors and topped by curved, graceful roofs—buildings with an air of splendor and propriety. We do not, simultaneously, call to mind the quiet, leisurely Chinese classical garden. Actually, only the beautiful Japanese garden, with its small artificial hills, is frequently thought of in the West in connection with Oriental landscaping. In fact, though, the Chinese garden is quite remarkable. It is a show of implicated beauty—from small to large, low to high, and surface to depth, and from the ordinary in appearance to images of great significance. Those familiar with Chinese art might compare the lively classical garden to a Chinese ink painting formed of splashes of pigment, in contrast to a more academic, ordered, and delicate classical painting; just as the splashed ink conveys a feeling of freedom and elegance, so does the Chinese garden. Three years ago, Wong's friends helped him to collect material on the six most famous gardens of the old mainland city of Soochow (The Garden of the Fishing Master, The Garden of a Humble Politician, A Garden to Dwell-in, The, Garden of Ease, Lion-Woods Garden, The Court of Translucent Waves. "These six, in very limited spaces, express an unlimited profundity of great sophistication; the point is," Wong emphasized, "that the Soochow garden's landscaping artistry has important implications for the arrangements of modern space." There are, actually, significant similarities between the Soochow of the classic years and Taipei today, according to Wong. Soochow in its heyday was one of the main cultural and handicraft centers of China, a community which brought active businessmen and intellectuals together. One result was carefully planned gardens in metropolitan circumstances to ease the pressures of busy lives. The people of booming Taipei, no less than those of other urban conglomerates of the modern world, feel the same necessity to create spaces for relaxation that impelled the inhabitants of Soochow to action. "In a large metro-center like Taipei, we constantly experience the impatient, nerve shattering pressures of a technological society. Returning to a highly efficient residential environment after a long day at work, people feel the pent up need for physical and mental relaxation. Over a long period of time, if they don't take a break, they start to feel as if they're suffocating." Gesturing sharply to emphasize his statements, Wong revealed artists' hands. "But with so many tall buildings crowded into the urban area," he queried, "how can we find the luxury of space for a proper garden? Since the living space we have molded for modern people is the apartment, we have to face the need to move the garden directly into the living-room, bedroom, porch—or even office." Wong began with an office-garden. And he still feels that his first indoor-landscaping client, Chen Chi-lu, chairman of the Council for Cultural Planning and Development, was the most satisfying client to work with—excited and informed about all the artistic and architectural concepts involved. Chen's offices combine very modern design with such traditional Chinese architectural touches as moon-shaped doors and octagonal windows; scepter-shaped window frames match scepter-echoing furniture. Subdued and harmonious colors, systemized lines, and a classic distribution of space integrate the traditional Chinese design and the otherwise modern structure. There were expected difficulties. The space was limited by the building layout and by the office's original construction. There was the necessity of subordinating artistic purposes to the functions of a busy official. Wong enjoyed the challenges greatly. As a budding architect, Wong Wing-hung went down a long road of intensive thinking before he began creating. While enrolled at the architecture department of Cheng-kung University, he worked part time at a large architecture-design firm; his classmates all envied his good fortune. But he didn't stay on long at the firm after graduation. A trip to the Tokyo World Fair woke him to a greater world. He now saw the globe as a giant museum, and he felt the intense need to study it more. Yale University's graduate school was his next stop. There, Wong earned good grades and credentials studying with architectural master Charles W. Moore. Then he went further into the world "museum," traveling to Europe, where, he says, he almost walked through seven countries and thirty-seven cities. His tour of European architectural masterpieces was intensely stimulating—so much so, that he was inspired to look deeply into his own historical background. "I was finally impelled to work on architectural design not only for fame, fortune, and, simply, design itself, but also for ideals, for my personal interest—the 'what for.'" Wong determined that traditional Chinese architecture was immensely significant, and that it was important that it live on in modern society. This became his faith, and also his target. He soon discovered that though most people are aware of and impressed by the traditional Chinese curved roofs, intricate colors, and intensive decoration, that the classical Chinese garden is virtually unknown, and he decided to become active in that area also. "It is a special exception within the totality of our heritage of architectural design, breaking all the rules of symmetrical order. Each element of clear artistry, each spot speaks with its own significance," he declared. The classical Chinese winding garden path, for example, not only follows a wall in imitative construction, but wanders up and back, winding irregularly. In this way, the visitor may enjoy differing views of the garden as he strolls. From the Crane House in the Garden to Dwell-in, it is clear that gardens achieving simplicity are also products of good design. So, clear, uncluttered, restful lines existed not only in certain Western design traditions, but in the ingenious arrangements of the Chinese garden—design to ease the atmosphere and provide space to saunter in. Still, the traditional Chinese landscapist sometimes would deliberately put two totally different types of objects together to emphasize contrast and invite one to ponder. Egg-shaped stories, for example, would be set into a path paved at random with water-eroded pebbles and stones from Tai Hu Lake. Wong, himself, may be said to be an example of similar contrasts. Born in the British colony of Hongkong, he grew up in a traditional Chinese family, but matured under Western education. This background helped impel him to the intensive study of Chinese architecture. In other contrast parallels, Wong has strong points of view, yet is easygoing when expressing them; he romps with friends, and yet is seriously calm at work. In him, we see the image of the architectural-artist—the product of a long period of intensive training and reflection, now creative. His current practice looks to the transfer of historically rigid forms into brand new territory. There is true excitement in his quest...and its prospects.