The project, initially for a youth activities center commissioned by the China Youth Corps, demonstrates how a site can be developed to maximum use and flexibility with minimal encroachment on the natural beauty of the environment. Nearing its completion date of July this year, the success of the design is already clearly evident.
The story teller faltered in his rhythm as his audience's attention swung to one side, where Ah Chen was flailing at a youth. Ah Chen flung his basket of sweets aside to free his left hand, the sinewy fingers of his right already being latched onto the urchin's ear. The sound of Ah Chen's bellows competed with a now equally outraged musician pounding his gong. In a crescendo, the youth climaxed the symphony with a piercing scream as he tore away from Ah Chen's grip. Avenged for his pilfered candy, Ah Chen beamed as he pointed the long nail of his right index finger after the fleeing youth and cackled, "Looks like you got your ear cleaned, sonny."
Delighted by the diversion, the villagers restively returned their interest to the story teller, who had regained his meter but not yet his composure. Fleeing from the village square into the shady northern laneway, the boy startled Old Shiou, who was stealing a look at the festivities from the vantage point of his front gate. Old Shiou always stood on his dignity as a scholar returned from the capital, and refused a contribution to the common fund for such vulgar entertainments as the story teller could offer. However, since the gate leaned rather than swung in position on rotten hinges, and from glimpses taken of the old gentleman scurrying in and out of his front gate at the start and end of performances, we perceive a more basic story.
For the other villagers it had been an exceptional year. The gods were kind and the harvests plentiful; in the days preceding the festival there was meat in the market place and even a few delicacies and pieces of cloth from the city, the like of which was usually only seen in Mayor Pan's household. Everyone had given themselves to the spirit of the festival, in this quiet time between planting and harvest, to welcome the New Year. Ah Chen had put a liberal amount of sugar into his candies for once, and was enjoying a brisk trade before this rude incident occurred. Mayor Pan glowed in the light of his success at having solicited the services of such a noted story teller; his fame had attracted worthies from other villages with their contributions to the festival fund.
The scene duplicates history; so that such traditions may be maintained and the festivities re-lived, a village such as Mayor Pan's is being recreated at Kenting in the extreme south of Taiwan. Fine houses with courtyards and gates that Old Shiou would have longed for, and a market and square to focus village activity, will become a setting in which Taiwan's youth can seek their origins. Perhaps the stark realities of village life, the presence of urchins, and the human meannesses needed for survival will not be so vividly recalled, for the people of Taiwan have left such hardships far behind.
To this village the people will come from afar, in busses and cars, perhaps with camping, swimming, or horse riding foremost in their minds. But on this "stage" with its backdrop of Chinese traditional architecture, they cannot but be influenced and at least subconsciously drawn into history. Others, of course, will come determined to help in the recreation through other mediums, but in kindred spirit with the architect. Plays performed in the forum or square, meetings of musicians and artists in the courtyards of the houses, and simple gatherings of friends on quiet evenings will perpetuate the spirit of bygone village life.
The man who conceived this village, architect planner Han Bao-teh, in more than fulfilling the requirements of the Youth Activities Center, has also furthered his own personal quest for the restoration and propagation of traditional Chinese architecture. Han has also achieved the deinstitutionalization of the modern need for dormitory accommodations and services by their incorporation into a traditional Chinese village.
Nestling under the paternal eye of Frog Rock, the village is growing in harmony with its coastal environment. Naturally a very beautiful site, it was safeguarded by stipulations from the outset that there should be minimal interference with flora and fauna. The village concept ideally meets these needs with its low profile and cluster type dwellings that use minimum land area. Further, the village supplies the needs of its future, if temporary, inhabitants, breaking the force of the prevailing high winds and giving shelter from the fierce summer sun in shady lanes, beneath low sweeping eaves.
Located in an already popular tourist area only a few miles from Kenting's Botanical Gardens and a stone's throw from Kenting beach, the village is in the center of a major recreation area. Within Kenting also is the Pingtung Research Ranch, through the cooperation of which the village center will offer visitors horse riding activities, rarely available elsewhere on the island. Both mountains and sea are readily accessible for hiking and fishing. Camping grounds to be provided in the area surrounding Frog Rock will be equipped and serviced from the village center.
The center will also operate in an educational capacity through seminars and special cultural activities. A library will be stocked particularly with oceanographic materials in view of the seaside ambience. It is intended that classes in pottery, music, painting, calligraphy, and other arts will be provided. To accommodate so broad a range of functional requirements, Han's design has a tremendous flexibility in space usage, so that the locale is equally suitable for service to one large or several small groups, without at all forgetting the need for a more solitary peace to be found in the several small courtyards.
Han's associate and disciple, K.Y. Teng, explained to me the development of the idea. Much of the detail has been Teng's work. As Han's company, Han Kuang Architects and Engineers, has been regularly winner or runner up for the Annual Architectural Medal awarded by the Chinese Architectural Association, it was an obvious choice for the project. Some of Han's prize winning designs include the architecture department facilities at Tunghai University, where he was formerly dean of the faculty, youth centers at Tienhsiang and Penghu (Pescadores Islands), and a striking church in Taichung which is a myriad of crossing lines and planes.
In this idea for Kenting, Han determined to foster the restoration of Taiwan's heritage through traditional architecture. His aim is to re-create a traditional atmosphere for the youth of Taiwan and, through this, establish a sense of value and pride in that part of the old culture that remains about them. From conception to its present stage of near completion, the project has taken a mere three years. But observing the detail, the fine workmanship put into the traditional materials, one has the feeling of slow painful growth—the concerned effort of a small community with a wealth of culture to express and nurture.
It is a village that one either "comes upon" or first picks out from the vantage point of Kenting Gardens, overlooking Kenting Bay, since from sea level, it hides among the low trees. Entering the village via a laneway which gives onto the square, we were immediately impressed by the elegance of the service center on the square's northeastern corner. The roof beams, in traditional style of tiered buttress, first caught my attention for their superb carving in natural wood finish. From the front portico to the side entrances, the building shows fine attention to detail, a characteristic which is maintained throughout the village. Where colors have been used, the paints have been selected so that the reds tone with terra cotta roofing and red brick walls; a natural blue has been used for relief on whitewashed walls that meld with the sky.
Looking into the square, the village seems to embrace you. On the northwest corner are a couple of houses holding courtyards within. They have an appearance of affluence, though of a modest kind. A narrow lane runs between them, and a view through the gateway into the courtyard of one does not give away the fact that within are the conveniences of modern living. The other house is different in layout, with access to the courtyard through a hall, as it is surrounded on all sides by rooms. These houses have been divided into small dormitories, each with modern bathroom facilities. Their more reserved finish gives them a family atmosphere, and one expects to find toddlers in doorways and women watching rowdy children in the yard.
Among these houses, I feel that I, also, have been scaled down to village size, but stepping back into the square, the claustrophobic sensation has gone, and I enter the larger arena of village life. Somewhere, incense is burning. I await the clatter of oracular stones on tiles as someone entreats the gods for an answer to problems. It is not hard to imagine...Ah Chen may soon approach with his basket of sweets, or vegetables will be thrust up at me from the pavement by a farmer selling his produce.
The grand buildings on the east and south of the square, with several planes of soaring gables, are neither temple nor magistrate's office, but an assembly hall, a library, and a canteen. Though, in fact, the buildings are not tall, the lines of the gables rise at their ends towards the clouds and make them into imposing structures from the perspective of the square. Like the service center, their finish is ornate, but tastefully done to bring out the best of the natural materials. These buildings have a variety in roofline, gateways, and other details, functioning as a lesson in Chinese architectural styles.
I passed into the southern lane and, once again surrounded by small houses, I felt at home. Yet, as I was about to look into a courtyard, I all at once felt like an intruder, for a couple within were working, rendering a wall. They seemed not so much employed on a construction site as just a family, preparing their home for the Lunar New Year then drawing near. I decided to pass the gate and savor the dream, however, first stumbling on modern sewage pipes not yet finally interred, thus breaking the spell.
I went into the courtyard of the most southern house. Work down to painted relief on the walls was all completed here. Sitting on the inner step of the entrance hall, I was able to inspect—now that it was all put back together—the onetime ruin of a fine old home which I had rambled through not two weeks before. Here, paddy could be spread before me in the sun, supervised perhaps by cranky old Granny Pan who would drive away the crows and any vagrant goat or chicken that edged its way through the door. A dog, oblivious to the old lady's troubles, would lazily stretch and then bristle to the challenge of a stray passing up the lane. A dash and then a cocky return to lift its leg against the rough hewn columns of the main door, retaking his claim with his scent. Such are the rituals of everyday village life that I have previously enjoyed elsewhere; this sincere replication of village architecture in Kenting brought their memory flooding back.
On the other side of the village I found a carpenter putting the finishing touches to an architrave. It was a pleasure to watch such hands at work as were responsible for part of the fine work about me. I expressed my appreciation for the woodwork, and was rewarded by the enthusiasm risen in his eyes.