Photographer preserves heart of Beijing

Down the Dashilar West Street that cuts through the middle of Beijing, one can find an old-fashioned restaurant that resembles an ancient pavilion. Outfitted with hardwood furnishings and staffed by waitresses in traditional dress, the restaurant gives visitors a glimpse into Beijing as it was several decades ago.

One of the restaurant's most unique features is its wall decor -- a series of black and white photos taken in previous years, depicting the previous denizens of the "hutongs" (alleyways) and their surroundings. The photos were all taken by Jia Yong, the owner of the restaurant and an award-winning photographer.

Jia was born and raised in this neighborhood, not far from Tian'anmen Square and the Forbidden City. He has another restaurant and a gallery nearby, where he displays more of his photos. The pictures show a side of Beijing that is known only to those who have lived here for years, as Jia has.

Jia got into photography a bit late, having tried his hand at a multitude of professions, including weightlifting and selling vegetables, before opening his own photo printing business. Jia seemed to have found his calling; it took him just three years to build his business into an 11-branch franchise.

Jia's love of his hometown and desire to see it preserved is perhaps the only thing greater than his love of photography. Troubled by the demolition of several Beijing hutongs, Jia started taking pictures of the ancient alleys in 1984 to preserve them in some fashion before they were destroyed. Jia spent three years taking photos of the city's hutongs, ending up with about 50,000 shots.

Jia posted many of the photos on the walls of his businesses for his customers to observe and enjoy. One day in 2006, a customer took particular interest in the photos and examined them one-by-one, apparently lost in thought. An interpreter who accompanied the man, who turned out to be a university professor from the Republic of Korea, told Jia that the man was looking for competitive photographers to take part in an international photo comptetition.

Jia agreed to sign up for the contest. Several days later, he selected 20 pictures and sent them to the Korean professor. Not long after, Jia got a message from the professor, asking Jia for his bank card number. The professor wanted to send Jia a prize of 2,000 U.S. dollars for winning first place in the contest.

"I thought it was fraud," Jia recalled. But he gave his number anyway. The prize came as promised, as well as a certificate and a collector's album featuring photos by all of the contest's award-winning photographers.

Jia's first-place photo depicts an elderly man sitting near the doorway of his hutong home, fanning himself in the summer heat.

"It was a summer in the early 1990s," Jia said. "Air conditioning was still a dream for people living in Beijing's hutongs."

Jia staged a month-long photography show titled "Goodbye, Hutongs!" at his gallery in the winter of 2010, bringing Jia modest fame in the city's photography circles.

"History gave me a chance, " Jia said. "I was fortunate to have this opportunity to observe and document the hutongs. But it's an opportunity I did not ask for. The demolitions were brutal," Jia said.

"It's like a second round of the Cultural Revolution," Jia said, alluding to a mass political movement that lasted from 1966 to 1976, resulting in widespread chaos and the destruction of a great deal of traditional Chinese culture.

The destruction of the hutongs in Jia's neighborhood peaked years ago. Jia had to race to keep up with the pace of demolition back then, but now he has more time on his hands.

"The fever has ebbed and now I have more time to sort my pictures and do something else," Jia said. To that end, Jia organized two sidewalk photo exhibitions last year, featuring photos taken by both Chinese and foreign photographers.

Jia plans to launch another exhibition in October this year, with corporate sponsors lined up to cover some of the costs. This will allow him to expand the exhibition, as previous shows required participating photographers to cover their own costs.

Jia spends a large portion of his income on photography equipment. He said he used to lie to his wife about the cost of his purchases, which would at times lead to arguments. But his wife, a retired handball player, finally realized it would be of no use to try to persuade her husband to give up his hobby.

Jia has a private studio for processing his pictures. He prefers to shoot on film and continues to use the older machines that can process his shots. He uses digital equipment only as a backup. He estimated the total value of his equipment to be somewhere around 2 million yuan (314,550 U.S. dollars).

"My photos are my most valuable assets," he said.

In addition to his exhibitions, Jia has also busied himself by organizing his own photo competitions. A local community service organization acts as the contest's sponsor, allowing Jia to engage the community and invite them to submit their own photos. Jia has held four competitions so far, with the fifth contest starting in May this year and ending in June.

People from all walks of life have submitted photos for the competition, with submissions totaling 6,000 photos. Jia said a panel of judges has already finalized its selections.

"The prices will be awarded in a few days," he said.

Although the hutongs of Beijing are slowly succumbing to the whims of property developers, Jia's photos and his efforts to encourage the public to take their own shots have helped to preserve one of the last vestiges of the old city.