At midnight on 1 June 1980, in the town of Shajing, China, a couple waited for border guards to rotate their positions. At the right moment, they snuck into the water of Shenzhen Bay, beginning their illegal escape to Hong Kong. This is how Wong-Chung Wai’s (b. 1984) photobook, begins – starting with the story of his parents’ departure route, before moving to his own migration to the UK. The resulting collection tells a story of the artist’s own journey as it asks, “What do you want to stay with you if you are leaving a place?”
Hong Kong After Hong Kong, published by GOST, draws on Chung Wai’s background in film and photography. It reflects on his experience of living in and departing from the city. Since January 2021, there has been a minimum of three flights every day from Hong Kong to the UK. Thousands of people have taken up the British government’s offer of a route to citizenship, following a national security law (NSL) imposed by China. The law came into effect on 30 June 2020, an hour before the 23rd anniversary of the city’s handover to China from British rule. The NSL gave Beijing power to control and dictate life in Hong Kong. Under the ruling, crimes of secession and collusion are punishable with a life sentence in prison, damaging public transport facilities can be classed as terrorism, whilst certain trials can be held behind closed doors. The provisions undermine a wide range of civil liberties such as freedom of speech, press and democracy.
As a result of this, Chung-Wai left the country. His work set out a farewell letter to the region, using his camera to create an imprint of things he could not take with him. “This is no longer the city I once knew,” he writes. Images of abandoned cars, drained swimming pools and unattended shrines capture a landscape of loss, painting an atmosphere of grief and uncertainty. Pictures feel deserted, emphasised by empty apartment blocks and collapsed warehouses. “My works always shift between photography and writing,” the artist explains. In this sense, words feel hollow as Chung-Wai shows us how language deteriorates across the city. It spreads across Tai Pak restaurant signs, pointing to iconic landmarks that have long since closed. In one image depicting a desolate air raid shelter, a rusting steel door holds a plaque that reads “The End.” The letters are scrawled out in an ominous black paint that feels inescapable.
On the final page of the book, an ebbing tide erases a heart that has been drawn into the sand. The waves remove the top half of a lover’s inscription, leaving only a solemn pink glow. The impression is of a ruptured relationship, as it mourns a home that once was. The book, however, does not succumb to nostalgia, but instead presents a conversation about the complexity of native identity and cultural roots. For Chung-Wai, it only tells “the first half of the whole story.” Hong Kong after Hong Kong lays ground for the future, gesturing toward a generation who refuse to be silenced in the face of censorship and government control.
Hong Kong After Hong Kong, Wong-Chung Wai | GOST Books
All images courtesy of © Wong Chung-Wai and GOST Books
