Boguang Market is situated at Hsinchu City’s Nanliao Fishing Port.
While landmark structures in every country articulate the idiosyncratic visions of eminent architects, those public spaces that are closely intertwined with our everyday lives have a greater emotional resonance for us. Traditional markets are important sites in popular culture. In recent years, many of Taiwan’s tin-clad old markets have been rebuilt, but what else has changed aside from physical renovation?
Fresh produce, indefatigable vigor, delicious food… what other things do you think of when it comes to markets? Perhaps you recall the avant-garde novelty of Rotterdam’s Markthal, whose bold archwise structure houses a market hall as well as offices and apartments, overturning our stereotypes of traditional markets. Perhaps you have visited Boguang Market at Hsinchu City’s Nanliao Fishing Port. Designed by architect Sheng-Feng Lin, its refined wavy lines at once mirror the surrounding seascape and evoke a Beaux-Arts architectural style.
These spaces attract visitors not only because they gather together all sorts of goods from different places, but also because of their architectural charm. However, when I ask architect Lu Chun-ting about his ideal market architecture, his answer is surprisingly down to earth. Rather than indulging himself in lofty ideas, Lu, who has designed three market buildings, says he wishes to produce works that are “approachable” and “relatable” to everyone, that “the public may enjoy.”
Linkou Market is built around an old bishopwood tree (Bischofia javanica).
Encouraging access
Lu Chun-ting’s architectural firm is now in its 11th year. Almost without exception, the projects he has taken on so far are public works such as long-term care facilities, school campuses, and markets. Over the years, Lu has designed three public markets. Zhongli First Public Market is the most representative of these commissions. The others are New Taipei City’s Linkou Market, which was completed in 2020, and Taoyuan’s Longtan Market, which is currently being renovated.
From the perspective of a market-goer, I take the qualities of being “approachable” and “relatable” that Lu aspires to in his works to mean “expressing a human touch.” Our conversation touches upon the market at the Jiancheng Circle in Taipei, which was demolished a few years ago despite being relatively new. The large circular structure stood at the center of a busy junction. Entirely clad in glass, it didn’t encourage access from the exterior. The market turned out to be a fiasco, unable to attract enough customers.
The unfortunate case of the Jiancheng Circle has compelled architects to consider how to open up enclosed market spaces. Taipei City’s Nanmen Market, whose reconstruction is now in full swing, provides an illuminating example. According to the designs of Bio-Architecture Formosana—a firm led by architects Chang Ching-hwa and Kuo Ying-chao—the 12-story new building will feature an abundance of floor-to-ceiling windows, which will mitigate any sense of enclosure. Furthermore, the sharp corner at the junction of Roosevelt Road Section 1 and Nanhai Road is deliberately broken to form balconies that will serve as dining areas. These vibrant spaces will suggest a continuity with the bustling city outside.
“Open up an enclosed space, and guide people into the building.” This concept finds perfect expression in the recently rebuilt Zhongli First Public Market, the first in a series of markets Lu Chun-ting has been commissioned to design. Himself hailing from Zhongli, Lu has a soft spot for this particular market, which locals affectionately call “The Big Clock.” He jokes that it was his local perspective that helped him win the commission, despite being a newly fledged architect at the time.
“The fundamental strategy employed for this project was to enable people outside the building to glimpse the vibrant life inside,” Lu explains. Erected on its original site, the new edifice has glass curtain walls on one of its road-facing sides. True to the market’s nickname, a two-story-high timepiece has been installed on one of the walls as a defining feature of this landmark. The transparent walls provide visual access to the interior. In addition, Lu has designed open areas at the front and rear of the building, a rooftop garden, and escalators, staircases, and fire escapes that are attached to the exterior of the structure. These architectural elements serve as buffers or links between the outside and the inside. The aim is to “arouse the curiosity of passersby and encourage them to enter the building.”
The rebuilt Zhongli First Public Market has glass curtain walls that provide visual access to the interior. A two-story-high timepiece recalls the market’s longstanding nickname, “The Big Clock.”
Working with the environment
A gentle, soft-spoken man, Lu doesn’t gush when talking about his design concepts. Rather than reveling in highfalutin visions, he often refers to the preexisting conditions at a site as “the environment,” and thinks of an architect’s design activity as a form of “arrangement.” This implies a philosophy that ultimately depends on the environment: prime consideration is given to nature, to which design should be subordinated.
Most of the projects carried out by Lu’s firm have been certified as gold or diamond-rated green buildings under Taiwan’s EEWH certification system. “Green buildings are our forte,” Lu says in a confident, matter-of-fact tone. However, he emphasizes that these certifications are of secondary importance. More crucially, an architect has to be able to create a comfortable space by working with the local environment, climate, and orientation of a site—this is what truly defines a green building. Lu mentions that everybody knows about the benefits of “facing south”: as long as a building is appropriately placed, its internal climate will be agreeable, and there will be no need to spend colossal amounts on energy-efficient glazing or top-of-the-range air conditioners.
But Lu also points out that designers of market buildings have to pay particular attention to ventilation, and to take special account of Taiwan’s characteristically hot and humid weather. As fresh produce should not be exposed to direct sunlight, daylighting is a key issue for designers. Lu explains that the north-facing side is the preferred location for large floor-to-ceiling windows because the light that comes in from the north tends to be softer. However, Taiwan’s frequent afternoon showers also make it necessary to install window awnings. As for the south-facing side, horizontal overhangs can be used, although too much shading will produce unwanted gloom inside. The east- and west-facing sides are not usually considered for windows.
Revitalizing a town begins with redesigning its old markets.
Shaping local futures
A market owes its existence to a number of factors, such as location, logistics, and population density. But structures that were built on the cheap half a century ago are showing their age, and are losing out to newly emerging commercial districts. The reconstruction of an old market involves not merely its physical demolition and replacement, but also a reconfiguration of the cultural contexts that surround it, being essentially a project of local revitalization.
Inaugurated in September 2022, the new incarnation of Tainan’s Xinhua Fruit and Vegetable Market is a case in point. This building, constructed at a cost of some NT$600 million, is co-designed by Taiwanese architect Li Li-ju and MVRDV, the Dutch firm that created the Markthal in Rotterdam. We visit the new market and the former site with Lee Fanglin, general manager at the Tainan Agricultural Products Marketing Company. Roofed with sheet metal, the old market was like an oven in the summer. All efforts to reduce temperatures, such as installing electric fans and sprinkling water, were futile. By contrast, at the new site, we’re struck by an exceptionally high green roof with a broad span, whose undulating shape echoes the hilly local landscape. The design helps cool the place. Gentle breezes waft across the semi-open space outside the market. “The difference between the two sites is about 6°C,” says Lee, who has visited both places with a thermometer.
Inadequate space and outdated facilities were among the reasons for the relocation. Standing in the midst of luxuriant greenery on the roof of the new edifice, Lee tells us about the market’s past and present. Talking of plans to combine the operation of the mainly wholesale market with local tourism, he is full of excitement. Pointing toward the nearby Hutoupi Scenic Area, the Waterworks Museum, and the Zuojhen Fossil Park, he expresses the hope that the market’s strong capacities for logistics, food services, and shopping will help connect these various places in Tainan and create a cluster of tourist spots. And so we realize that for both architects and business operators, a market reveals its full meaning only when it is examined in the context of local development.
Food writer Han Liangyi’s words resonate with many of us: “Whenever I travel to an unfamiliar place, the first thing I do upon arrival is to ask locals where the markets are.” Compared with celebrated landmarks or prestigious museums and galleries, local markets fascinate tourists because, apart from the joys of shopping and discovering treasures, we get to experience an insider’s perspective. In a market, visitors gain an insight into local seasonal changes by learning about local produce; they also participate in the local economy. For tourists and locals alike, the newly transformed markets in Taiwan are well worth a visit.
For more pictures, please click《Metamorphosis: Revitalizing Old Markets》
