Of the world’s 20-million-plus intermodal shipping containers, around 60 are sited, more or less permanently, along the southernmost stretch of Highway 19A in southern Taiwan between Tainan City’s Xinhua District and Kaohsiung City’s Gangshan District. None of these steel boxes are being used for their original purpose, which is to hold and protect cargo as it is transported from one place to another by ship, train or truck.
Several have been placed next to pineapple fields, and likely belong to farmers who use them to store agricultural equipment. Some have been extensively modified, with holes cut in the sides for doors, windows and air-conditioning units. These serve as offices for small businesses or accommodate betel nut vendors. The function of others is less obvious, but for sure most will never again see the ocean.
Few things are less glamorous than an old freight container retired to the countryside and used as a kiosk. Yet Taiwan has a growing circle of architects and specialist builders who find the possibilities offered by containers much more exciting than any chance to attach their name to a big-ticket landmark.
Flyin’ Moose, a gastropub in Kaohsiung made from six 40-foot-long containers, was built by architect Lin Chih-feng based on the restaurant owners’ design. (Photo courtesy of Wang Chi-tsun)
“In my experience, the general public is quite open-minded about the use of containers as buildings,” says Lin Chih-feng (林志峰), a Kaohsiung-based architect who has worked on several container-building projects. The social media buzz that accompanied the opening of Flyin’ Moose, a Kaohsiung gastropub Lin constructed according to the owners’ design concept early this year, seems to support his claim.
The restaurant’s main structure consists of six 40-foot-long (12.19-meter-long) containers, arranged to create indoor and outdoor eating areas. Standard containers are either 20 feet (6.1 meters) or 40 feet in length, 8 feet (2.44 meters) wide and usually 8 feet 6 inches (2.59 meters) high. “Containers can be utilized in various ways that are very interesting to imagine, but I’m still waiting for opportunities to turn some of my ideas into reality,” Lin says.
His passion for what some call “cargotecture” dates from his participation in the 2013 Kaohsiung International Container Arts Festival, the theme for which was using containers as habitable spaces. Working with Wang Chi-tsun (王啟圳), another Kaohsiung-based architect fascinated by the potential of containers, Lin devised a three-story dwelling with a 6-square-meter footprint. The duo’s contribution used four 20-foot containers. “The first floor comprised the living room, kitchen and bathroom. The second floor held the master bedroom and a kid’s room. The third floor could be used as a study,” Lin explains.
Of the various container buildings Lin has created, the one he is most proud of is located in Kaohsiung’s Pier-2 Art Center, a waterside cultural complex. Incorporating a dozen 40-foot containers, the NT$7 million (US$225,800) building serves as a waiting room for people about to board a tourist yacht. From the observatory atop two vertically positioned containers, visitors can enjoy views of the harbor and ocean.
Having been developed not to slide off ships as they pitch in heavy seas, intermodal containers are exceptionally stable. When fully loaded, they are robust enough to be stacked, one on top of each other, nine high.
The theme of the 2013 Kaohsiung International Container Arts Festival was utilizing containers as habitable spaces. (Photo courtesy of Wang Chi-tsun)
Lin points out that since his building at Pier-2 opened to the public in April, Taiwan has endured several tremors and two strong typhoons. “The structure has come through these severe tests safe and sound. This proves container buildings are tough,” he says.
“In earthquakes, you’re safer in a container than you are in a conventional RC [reinforced concrete] building,” asserts Wang, who has been intrigued by containers since his youth. His father, who now works with him, spent a good part of his life as an ironsmith. During that period, the elder Wang was often tasked with dismantling old shipping containers. He used to lament that if only he had the right tools and skills, he would have been able to convert one into a durable and attractive dwelling.
Container buildings are by their nature robust enough to satisfy the structural strength regulations in Taiwan’s building code. They are usually small enough not to require fire safety certification. However, the rule that all new public facilities and business premises allow barrier-free access for the disabled adds substantial costs. According to Lin, the owners of Flyin’ Moose spent approximately NT$1 million (US$32,260) on an elevator, a bathroom and other wheelchair-friendly features.
Lin Yan-ling (林讌綾), a company representative of Tainan-based specialist builders Sanli Container, says a standard 20-foot container fitted out so it can be lived in retails for about NT$80,000 (US$2,580). Adding a bathroom—which can be inside the container, or attached to it but accessible from within—ups the price by 30 percent.
“Compared to building with RC, container construction can cut a client’s costs by around 25 percent, and this isn’t just because the materials are cheaper,” Wang says. “If cutting and other work is done in a workshop, a container building can be finished and ready to use within a month of the containers being delivered to the location where they’ll be erected,” he adds. For businesspeople seeking a speedy return on their investment, this is a compelling reason to consider using shipping containers. “This kind of pre-construction method is also better for the environment than pouring concrete on the land,” he says.
Architect Wang Chi-tsun created an election campaign office using containers in southern Taiwan’s Kaohsiung City. (Photo courtesy of Wang Chi-tsun)
Before Wang and his colleagues begin cutting, they take the precaution of testing to ensure there is no trace of radioactivity. Another health concern is that when containers are first made they are coated with special paints to prevent corrosion. Depending on the container’s age, these paints may contain red lead (lead tetroxide) or zinc chromate, both of which are toxic. Newer paints are made with zinc phosphate, which is less poisonous yet still considered a hazardous substance. What is more, containers usually have wooden floors. These are saturated with preservatives and pesticides to prevent rotting and insect infestations.
To make a container safe for human use, therefore, the wood must be taken out and the paint removed by sandblasting. Critics of cargotecture point out that, for a 40-foot box, this process may produce as much as 750 kilograms of contaminated waste.
Anyone who has parked a car directly under Taiwan’s hot sun may assume steel boxes require powerful air-conditioning if they are to be habitable during the summer. But Wang explains this is not the case. “A cheap and easy way to insulate the walls is to clad the interior with 1 centimeter of wood,” he says. “It doesn’t have to be high-quality wood, and only costs around NT$1,300 (US$42) per square meter.”
The local election campaign office Wang designed and built in Kaohsiung City’s Lingya District in fall 2014 demonstrates what can be achieved by careful positioning. The 13 containers were arranged to maximize ventilation, and to cast shadows on each other and on people gathering outside. Late last year, the structure was refurbished for use as a campaign office in the 2016 presidential election. The site’s photovoltaic array, which shades the courtyard in addition to generating electricity, was expanded, while the top of one section was concreted over so a garden could be planted.
Container-building projects now account for about 70 percent of his six-person firm’s workload, Wang explains. His reputation attracts those who share his enthusiasm, yet on occasion he has to advise clients that a building made of cargo containers may not be the best solution. In one instance, the client expected the building to be used for 30 or more years. “Container structures are ideal for 10 to 20 years, especially if they’re repainted every five years,” he explains.
The container complex in Beitou houses a gallery that showcases works by local artists. (Photo by Chang Su-ching)
A decade or two may not sound very long, but buildings are often scrapped long before they become decrepit. In his book Green Architecture: An Asian Perspective, Lin Hsien-te (林憲德), a professor of architecture at National Cheng Kung University in Tainan, states that demolition statistics show Taiwan’s buildings are on average knocked down before they are 40 years old. “This quick turnover is a common occurrence in East Asia’s industrialized nations … Most buildings are demolished and replaced before reaching their physical lifespans, resulting in generally short life cycles and a severe waste of resources,” he writes.
The majority of buildings put up in Taiwan in the past half century have been RC. According to Lin’s book, the production of Portland cement, the most common type of crushed-rock adhesive in use, has “a huge carbon footprint … For an RC structure, every square meter in floor area generates 1.8 kilograms of dust and 0.14 cubic meters of solid waste during construction and 1.23 cubic meters of solid waste when the building is demolished. The damage to the environment is profound.”
The construction process for a house made of recycled shipping containers has a significantly smaller impact on the natural surroundings. What is more, container structures can be disassembled quickly and with little waste, then moved to another location and reused. A number of real estate companies have realized this and started using container-based structures to promote upcoming developments. Typically, temporary wood-and-glass pavilions are built on site to showcase the layout and amenities of a planned apartment complex. The structures are then broken up when actual construction begins.
One of the more unusual sights in Taiwan’s capital this year was an eye-catching assemblage of containers erected in June to pre-sell units in a luxury apartment complex in Taipei’s Beitou District. Huite Archi-Ology Co. commissioned specialists Jin-Cheng Container Houses Co. to both build the complex and, in November, move it to the site of another Huite-led project in New Taipei City’s Xinzhuang District.
A total of 35 containers were used to create display areas, a children’s reading room and a cafe. Awnings were made from sheets of metal left over when two containers were knocked through to make a meeting room. Furthermore, cargo doors removed from the ends of one container were cut in half and used to make the cafe’s bar.
Industry insiders note that habitable containers are cheaper to construct than conventional buildings and are structurally sound. (Photo by Chang Su-ching)
Wang practices what he preaches; his offices are a set of 20-foot containers. The managers of Sanli Container, who also work out of converted containers, will not say how many units they sell in a typical month, but business is clearly good; the workforce has grown to almost 30, including welders, carpenters and glaziers.
According to the company’s website, it has built homestays in Lugu Township in the central county of Nantou and on the small island of Xiaoliuqiu off southwestern Taiwan, as well as a watersports facility at Lotus Pond in Kaohsiung City. For the Tainan City Government, Sanli assembled a portable bathroom currently located in a busy night market; the bathroom collects and stores rainwater which is then used to flush the toilets.
Wang says that, as far as he knows, no university architecture courses in Taiwan even mention cargo container construction. However, some in the industry are reaching out to the next generation. To encourage young creatives to ponder the possibilities of cargotecture, Sanli Container and Kun Shan University, located in southern Taiwan’s Tainan City, held a design competition for college teams in late 2014.
More than 300 students and teachers took part, with the top prize going to a group from Feng Chia University in central Taiwan’s Taichung City. At the awards ceremony in January, Sanli CEO Huang Zong-rong (黃宗榮) expressed his hope that the event had inspired designers to think of ways in which living spaces can be increased without jeopardizing the environment.
Lin Chih-feng echoes this sentiment. “We hope these buildings will be used for a long time,” he says, “and that visitors will understand freight containers are suitable not just for temporary and inexpensive structures, but are a trustworthy and environmentally friendly construction option.”
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Steven Crook is the author of Taiwan: The Bradt Travel Guide.
Copyright © 2015 by Steven Crook