Greg Girard – Heart of Darkness – Kowloon’s Walled City
1985
Until 1993, there stood a structure in Hong Kong like no other. On a small plot of land in Kowloon, a mass of buildings stretched skywards, interconnecting like a jungle canopy to form a single dense block. Reaching 14 storeys, its facade glowed with the fluorescent lights of hundreds of tiny apartments and shops. Packed inside were schools, workplaces, medical clinics, and factories; places of worship, relaxation, and hedonism – and more than 35,000 inhabitants living on top of one another.
This was the Kowloon Walled City, a Chinese squatter settlement in the middle of British-ruled Hong Kong. A self-governed city within a city — which grew organically like a living creature, without the input of architects or engineers, without law, authority, or regulation — it was, at its peak, the most densely populated place on earth.
One night in 1985, while photographing the streets around the now-defunct Kai Tak Airport, Greg Girard stumbled across it. “I turned a corner and there it was: this huge, Medieval-looking thing at the end of the block. It looked like it had sampled the neighbourhood and turned into a kind of Frankenstein agglomeration of buildings,” he says. “It was just extraordinary because it so clearly broke every construction regulation there was. That’s when I realised it must be the thing I’d heard about, the Kowloon Walled City.”
Stepping inside, the photographer was swallowed up by a labyrinth of narrow alleys that dipped and twisted. Dingy green lighting illuminated an impossible tangle of tubing and wires overhead, while soaking refuse dripped down from upper floors, and sewage ran in the gutters underfoot. Chemical odours from plastic factories merged with the stench of raw and barbecued meat from pork and fish ball factories. Radios and televisions blared, and Mahjong tiles clattered. “It was a sensory overload,” Greg remembers. “It felt otherworldly, and yet totally normal to everyone living and working there.”
“The Walled City had this reputation for drug use, violence, gambling, prostitution. But by the 80s at least, if you spent any time there, you quickly understood that this was a place where people were trying to raise their kids, make a living and get by. It was like any working-class neighbourhood of Hong Kong, except this one was just physically so extreme. Our initial impulse was to show what it was actually like, since its reputation was so out of kilter with its reality by that point.”
Although the locals were wary at first, Greg gradually earned their trust. “I kind of intuited that the more gear you’re carrying, the more serious you look, and that would serve you better than trying to surreptitiously take pictures,” he says. “I decided early on to make the kind of pictures I was making for magazines like Fortune and TIME — if you’re photographing a celebrity or a business person, you light them properly. So I used a lot of lighting to really show what the place looked like, and photographed in colour rather than black-and-white. I didn’t want to romanticise it.”














