Artist-in-Residence Philip Poon: Fitting Architecture into Identity, Activism, and Change

The power of architecture comes from both its ubiquity and necessity. Unlike photography, painting, and sculpture, it’s always present in our lives. It literally shapes the world around us and has the power to welcome or discriminate, to unite or divide. To create a space for dialogue.

Our latest art exhibition, SHARED SPACES by architect Philip Poon, invites you to imagine how people of diverse backgrounds might occupy the same physical space, and explores worlds in which those with differing viewpoints, values, and experiences might coincide, and the possible conflicts — and harmonies — that might arise.

We had the chance to chat with Philip about how he balances living in multiple worlds at once, how the projects in his exhibition reflect that, and how architecture can be a form of activism.

Where did you grow up? 

I was born in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and moved to Westchester when I was 9.

Did you notice a big difference between Brooklyn and Westchester? 

The schools I went to were somewhat different. In Brooklyn I went to a more artistic school. Everyone was encouraged to be creative from a very young age.  Scarsdale was more professionally minded­ — there were a lot of lawyers and doctors.

Was it hard to fit in?

Sometimes more so than others. Scarsdale was predominantly Jewish and liberal, while my family would attend a conservative evangelical Christian church in Manhattan Chinatown every week. I had my friends, but I was always aware that I could never be truly part of the norm. Later on in high school I became more accustomed to this awareness. Taking that somewhat contrarian approach is reflected in my projects.

Have you always been into art? 

When I was a kid I was always “artistic.” The school I went to in Brooklyn encouraged that. I liked drawing and painting. Legos were also a big thing. 

I know your father’s an architect — did you always want to follow in his footsteps?

Architecture was always an option because my dad is an architect. Looking back I’m thankful for the exposure because it’s a career that’s not always considered, at least compared to other professions or the fine arts. Architecture is not as obvious. I was glad too to have early exposure to the profession, and from observing my dad I always knew it was difficult and time consuming. Some people only realize that after graduating architecture school and entering the working world.

Even though I share the same profession as my father, there are differences between the way we work, and right now I’m trying to find my own path and approach to architecture.

What are some different paths?

Well, my dad for instance. He’s an immigrant. He came here from Hong Kong at 18 for college. The practice he built is not dissimilar from those built by other first-generation immigrants like him in that it’s a little more practical. The second generation has the privilege to think beyond practicality.

My dad has built a lot of buildings in Chinatown. It’s impressive because he’s contributed to the Chinatown landscape, in big and small ways. It’s interesting to see how the projects he has built have changed through time. They feature a little in my exhibition because my dad has built both 50 Bowery, which has been somewhat controversial, and the mall at 75 East Broadway. It used to be a very local, working class Chinatown mall, and it's is now more than half non-Chinese, with high fashion brands and a privileged kind of New York art class occupying the second level. I also noticed that several of Sandy Liang’s recent fashion shots use an early church that my dad built on Eldridge Street as the backdrop.

I understand you attended a recent protest with the Chinatown Art Brigade, which included 50 Bowery. How do you reconcile that with your father’s work?

What I want to do with my exhibition is to at least start a discussion. What’s missing is this first step of sitting down and trying to understand what’s going on, what others are doing, and how one’s actions might be affecting others. 

In a protest there isn’t a space or effort to really consider what’s happening and how it’s happening. The pros and cons, the alternatives. The first step is to kind of just to start an awareness. Start with a photograph, reading a paragraph, referring to an Instagram page. There a lot of actors involved and it’s very complicated. What’s missing is a space to have that dialogue.

From my dad’s perspective, it’s more practical. He’s an immigrant. These places are functional. He has a business to support. He’s building a hotel for another family to support their business. But at the same time, that business might push out other small businesses.

As for me, I’m trying to find my place in the community, both in Chinatown and New York. For myself as a Chinese American who grew up not in Chinatown but around it. I’m trying to find out how the role of architecture fits in this. Architecture’s power is that it’s always there. My dad built these spaces that all these people are occupying. The appearance, size, design, everything matters. Architecture not only communicates a visual message but also shapes the way people both within a building and outside of it live each other. Architecture can discriminate but also welcome. Architecture has the capacity to do both.

These are the questions that are relevant in Chinatown as well as in a divided America. The show is not only about Chinatown but about shared space in general. This kind of segregation is happening in Chinatown and all over the country, with race and class, and it’s not a good thing. Architecture has the power to change that, to offer alternative ways of living with each other and making a difference.

Do you see yourself as being an activist through architecture?

I’m trying. Through this project I hope we can find ways to unite each other in the context of a segregated Chinatown and America. In Chinatown it’s less obvious. Not like the North and South, Trump and Bernie, Republican and Democrat. Later generations in Chinatown are often on both sides.

You grew up in the suburbs outside of the city, which is very different than growing up in Chinatown. How does that affect your relation to the community? 

It’s complicated for me personally. I’m between multiple worlds. I’m not from the immigrant Chinatown community. My parents didn’t work in restaurants. They speak English fluently. They were wealthier immigrants who came over for college, which is different than immigrants who lived in Chinatown. 

But I did spend a lot of time in Chinatown when I was growing up. I would go every week for groceries and for church. The demographic of the church was working class Chinatown. The people there were my friends, but simultaneously there were differences since I lived in Westchester.

The mall at 75 East Broadway kind of embodies that in between-ness. It was built by my dad’s office. I like many of the things sold and exhibited on the upper level but can’t deny that those on the lower floor resemble to some degree my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, family friends who are “really” Chinese. As a Chinese American I’m stuck between the first and second floor.

Having grown up in the suburbs in New Jersey, I myself feel a kind of guilt in that context. How about yourself? How do you deal with that?

It’s a problem when you leverage or exploit an immigrant group for your benefit, especially when you’re in a more privileged group. That’s one line of clarity: you shouldn’t use other people. You shouldn’t benefit off of negative stereotypes or associations, whether it be with cheapness, lower class, or general “otherness,” which has a clear history in Chinese American history.

Especially now in a divided America and divided Chinatown, it’s important to recognize the full and complex humanity of people who are unlike yourself. It sounds simple but it means understanding that culture is more than just food or certain historical objects. Chinese culture is more than Lunar New Year. Being Chinese American is more than just about being Chinese. What’s missing is understanding the full complexity of humanity.

This is how I see my projects in SHARED SPACES. One project [Chinatown Gateway] is very complex. It’s in reaction to reductivist impressions others have of Chinatown. It’s about food, dragons, and shops on Canal whereas formally this project performs differently and it’s about people and their activities.

The other project [Monument to Keshia Thomas] is far simpler. It’s a gesture meant to unify. Nationally we self-segregate. The project is meant to create a civic space, a shared space that’s open to all Americans.

What is it about Pearl River that makes you want to exhibit here?

In a changing Chinatown, Pearl River has emerged as an engaged, consistent, and leading voice. There’s an openness to both Chinese and non-Chinese that’s unique compared to other businesses and institutions.

What I really like about Pearl River and the gallery is that they have the potential to be a true shared space. To be welcoming to all kinds of customers, whether a tourist from Europe or a second- or third-generation Asian American or a group like Bubble_T.

There was this moment last year when I was talking with Joanne [Kwong, Pearl River president] and she referred to Bubble_T as the future. I really like that description. Asian American culture should be future oriented. The emphasis has been on the historical. The changing future should also be recognized.

What do you do to stay inspired?

Last month I saw this fashion show in Seward Park from CFGNY, which is two Asian American designers. It was a totally public and incredibly inspirational performance. And very well integrated into the local Chinese American community. This is another version of the future, one which doesn’t discriminate and doesn’t exploit. I get inspired by those kind of creatives. By people are who doing those kind of things in different fields in really new ways. 

A version of this architecture is missing. That’s the inspiration behind my show. There’s this kind of discussion in fashion, art, and politics. Very few people architecture are talking about it or are being vocal about this cultural issue. 

Is there anything you’re obsessed with right now? That you tell people, “You have to read/watch/listen to/eat this?”

CFGNY of course. I was also really inspired by the Bubble_T Lunar New Year party last year. I saw Zah perform. They really blew me away. Their music was so new. That’s the one characteristic of Asian American culture that I aspire to: new, exciting, different.

SHARED SPACES is on view in our TriBeCa gallery from July 13 through Aug. 31.