Something Like a Memory

When I visited China as a kid, I’d often see the red character “拆” — chai, meaning “demolish” — painted on old buildings in my parents’ hometown. I didn’t think much of it then, but it marked China’s rapid wave of urban redevelopment.

On my most recent trip, I visited Laoximen, one of Shanghai’s oldest neighborhoods. Locals said most of it had already been rebuilt and was barely recognizable. I went to see what was left.

As I walked through the alleyways, a few aunties asked what I was photographing. We talked about life in the neighborhood. I had never lived there, but the drying racks, passing scooters, and neighbors chatting felt deeply familiar—like a memory I didn’t know I had.

Laoximen sits in the shadow of Shanghai’s modern skyline—a reminder that not all urban life is high-rises and megaprojects. Some residents hope to preserve it. Others focus on the financial benefits of relocation. But everyone lives with the uncertainty of when or if they’ll be asked to leave.

This series documents a neighborhood in transition—and the tension between honoring what was and embracing what’s to come.

—Brandon Lu (blu), April 2025