Yeeshan Yang, a veteran industry insider, says film productions here are hidden inside a “black box” when it comes to selecting their leading actors, actresses, crew members and even extras. She is in the first stages of launching an online database, CastDifferent, that she says would make film casting more transparent. But there are two challenges: She first has to raise capital, then she must defeat widespread opposition in the movie business, she said.

“In the industry here, we don’t have this position of casting director,” Yang said.

CastDifferent is based on a business model that’s working well in the U.K., Yang says. Overseas, online services such as Casting Call Pro compile profiles of actors and other industry workers onto a database that is accessed by production companies and casting agents. The websites are like a JobsDB.com for film professionals, although in this case the job seekers pay. The membership fee is HK$100 a year, which Yang calls low compared with what some scouting agents charge. At this stage, film companies don’t have to pay to access the database and view member profiles, but Yang plans on charging them eventually.

The purpose of CastDifferent is to level the playing field; talent and portfolios would count more than money, according to Yang. Currently, big celebrities drive the industry in Hong Kong because they have the connections and clout, she says. “The movie stars are very spoiled, and they create barriers for new actors, new talent to enter the business.”

Bey Logan, a film producer and screenwriter who worked on “The Medallion” and “The Twins Effect,” says: “We need young blood.”

“The major problem in Hong Kong is the absence of young talent who can take over the industry from actors like Jet Li, Jackie Chan, Tony Leung – who are all around 50,” he adds.

In casting his film projects, Logan says he has never encountered what Yang calls the “black box.” Before founding B&E Productions in 2009, Logan worked for Emperor Motion Picture Group and was the vice president of Asia for the Weinstein Co.

Yang hopes CastDifferent will succeed not only because she says it has the potential of changing an industry, but also because she has a lot riding on it.

So far, Yang has poured HK$500,000 of her savings into her business idea since she launched it in August. She says she needs more capital – about HK$4 million –to keep it going.

She has approached several government departments and investors for funding and has received favorable responses. “The government also thinks this is a good idea. It’s good for the industry; it’s good for the society,” Yang says.

“In the film business, we have 500,000 people looking for jobs,” she says. “The current number [of members] is not enough to change the industry.”

CastDifferent is already online, but there are only 70 member profiles, many of them directors and actors in Hong Kong or Beijing. Yang’s target number is 50,000 members.

Her biggest opposition remains the film industry. Her adversaries aren’t just people at the top, such as directors and producers; they are at every level. Those who stand to earn the biggest profits will lose the most if CastDifferent were to succeed, she says.

Patrick Frater, chief executive of Film Business Asia and a former Variety journalist, says an online database for casting may work in Hong Kong. But, he adds, “what works in the U.K. can’t necessarily be applied in Hong Kong because there is a different system here.”

Plus, he says, a talent database already exists online. It’s called Alivenotdead.com.

That site invites artists to create profiles and connect with one another and fans; actor Daniel Wu is one of its most prominent and active members.

Logan used the Alivenotdead.com network to cast his leading lady in his current project, “Snowblade.”

“The site is great, but it needs more direct connections with the industry,” he says. Alivenotdead.com acts more as a community of artists than as an industry tool.

“I use Alivenotdead, Facebook and three or four online platforms… but there is definitely room for improvement,” Logan says. “It would be good to have a site that acts as a casting director to sift through the oddballs – with the Internet, you never know what you’ll get.”

Yang, who is in her late 40s and whose film credits are also under the name Elsa Chan, has been a screenwriter for 12 years. She entered Hong Kong’s film industry when she was asked to adapt her book “From the Queen to the Chief Executive.”

“Before that, I did business, so I understand that world,” she says. “To become a scriptwriter, you have to have business sense.”

The job is “20% writing and 80% selling,” as Yang puts it.

When “All About Love” was written many years ago, it couldn’t sell, Yang said. The script – partly set on the Mid-Levels escalators of Soho – is about two lesbian lovers who meet again after both get pregnant on short flings with men. She sold it years later after director Ann Hui approached her.

“Usually you have the script written 10, 20 years ago, and you can never sell it – but maybe when the time comes, when the market is ripe, when the investor comes, you can sell it,” Yang says.

Perhaps that’s a lesson Yang can apply to her CastDifferent venture. Changing Hong Kong’s film casting process from the inside may be her biggest sales pitch yet.

“I’m a big comic book fan, so the first thing I’m looking for is how comics are going to fit on here,” he said.

The result is Super Kaiju Hero Force, Crispy Entertainment’s original comic book series available as a free app for the iPod, iPhone and iPad.

The series is about a trio of suburban American fanboys who win a trip to visit the set of their favorite superhero show in Japan, where an accident transforms them into some of the characters. The writing employs Pixar- and Simpsons-style humor, with jokes for both children and adults.

Lau and series co-creator Jeff Kwan, who are both in their thirties, had previously pitched Super Kaiju Hero Force to an animation company. When that didn’t go anywhere, they adapted their idea for the iPhone, writing the script together.

Rather than developing digital products for established film and television characters, Crispy Entertainment and similar companies are doing the reverse — creating new brands on mobile devices and then expanding into more traditional formats.

The best example, Lau said, is Angry Birds, a wildly popular smartphone game that is now being turned into a television series.

“The landscape is changing for media,” he said. “It’s being put in the hands of anybody. If you have a good idea, you can do it.”

Entertainment blogs have applauded Crispy Entertainment for producing original comics formatted specifically for the iPhone, rather than simply scanning printed comic book pages and shrinking them down as others have done.

“Since Super Hero Kaiju Force was designed for the iPhone, the screen size made us reconsider how to lay out the story,” Kwan said in an e-mail. “Obviously, to show a standard comic page of nine panels would make for a very small viewing experience. We also decided to have shorter chapters, which is something that is not traditionally done with comics.”

The biggest challenge, Kwan said, was keeping the dialogue short enough to fit inside one or two panels per screen. But customers seem to appreciate the effort.

“The story line is a little too childish for my liking, but I can see that kids could really enjoy this,” said one customer review on iTunes. “The text is easily readable. The comic is formatted very well for the iPhone.”

Super Kaiju Hero Force currently breaks even on advertising revenue, Lau said. It also contains numerous product placements, from Yahoo! Japan to Mos Burger, which Lau had hoped would be another source of funding. The companies didn’t bite, but Lau left them in as jokes and pop culture references.

The comic is advertised mainly through social media like Facebook and Twitter, as well as in online comic forums.

“The most important thing is to get the eyeballs, get people to know the brand,” Lau said. “It doesn’t matter how.”

The idea is to build a fan base for Super Kaiju Hero Force and then develop games, merchandise or even a live-action show for an audience eager to buy.

Crispy Entertainment is a lean start-up with low overhead and minimal staff. Lau works out of an office in Times Square where he runs his other business, a blog network called Popcorn Media. But he said Crispy Entertainment is basically headquartered in his laptop.

“Everybody I work with is virtual,” Lau said. “So from accountants to lawyers to writers to artists to programmers, everybody does not work in the same office as I do.”

Kwan, for example, is based in Vancouver, where Lau is also originally from.

“The programmers are here, but the artists are in like Australia or Indonesia,” Lau said. “They’re all over the place.”

Lau originally called his company Crispy Comics, he said, because he thought it sounded funny and was easy to understand. But now it’s turning into something more, hence the name change. Aside from building its own brands, Crispy Entertainment is raising funds to acquire licenses for properties like Star Wars, Harry Potter and Hello Kitty in order to develop games and other apps. Lau has brought on a new partner in Los Angeles to help.

“We’re trying to morph Crispy into basically being the best app developer for kids,” he said.

The target audience is kids ages 3 to 11, primarily in the U.S. but with an eye on the Chinese market. Lau said right now he is more concerned with developing apps in Chinese and other Asian languages than expanding to other mobile devices such as the Android, whose users don’t buy as many applications.

But of course that could change. Lau said start-ups like Crispy Entertainment have to be flexible enough to adapt their strategy as new technology and opportunities appear. In 2009, when the first issue of Super Kaiju Hero Force was released, the iPad wasn’t even in stores (Lau encases his iPad in a custom Super Kaiju Hero Force cover).

“The app market, the smartphone market, the tablet market is still growing, so people are still trying to find business models for these things,” he said.

But is something lost from the comic book experience without the community of a neighborhood shop? Kwan and Lau don’t think so. Kwan noted that not everyone lives near a comic book store, but anyone with an Internet connection can access digital comics.

And while digital comics will probably drive most physical stores out of business, Lau said, some will survive with a new purpose. In a digital world, comic book fans can still visit stores to watch trailers, buy merchandise and get recommendations from staff and other customers.

“It’s like the bookstores, too, they’re going to change. When you go to a bookstore like Barnes & Noble in the future, there will probably be somebody at the front to greet you: ‘What would you like to download today?’” he said. “All these stores will be showrooms.”

Kwan agreed that there would always be some demand for physical stores.

“Ultimately, I think that print — while shrinking in some respects — and digital media will reach an equilibrium in which both can coexist,” he said.

The single-page magazine began publishing in 2010, originally billed as a  “Fake Literary Magazine.” Its contents typically consist of just 60 to 80 intriguing sentences themed on a particular word. Up to 160,000 copies of the monthly magazine have been sold in Hong Kong within a year.

“We never imagined our magazine could draw so much attention in Hong Kong,” said Ka-Ho Yiu, better known as Bu, one of the founders of Blackpaper and also a DJ at Commercial Radio. “In fact, we have only printed 2,000 pieces in the first month of last year. As soon as the magazines were sold out, we had to overprint. Then sold out, and overprinted,” Bu said.

The production team of Blackpaper is formed by Seven Chan, a DJ from Commercial Radio, Roy Lam, a lyricist who was previously a DJ from Commercial Radio, and Bu. The three good friends’ original thought was to create Blackpaper just as an excuse for getting together.

“We have come up with many different ideas about what we were going to do during our gathering, but unfortunately we are too busy to do a blockbuster other than our own jobs. A one-page production is the only thing we can do in our spare time. So there came Blackpaper,” said Bu.

Bu said he hoped Blackpaper could enrich the cultural diversity of Hong Kong’s society. “In Japan, even a leaflet in metro can be creative and inspiring. ”

Inside the literary Blackpaper, swarms of words about critics of the current social phenomena and funny sentences could be read. Bu said approximately 10,000 to 20,000 issues are sold per month.

“I have bought a couple Blackpaper as soon as the magazine was launched. Some are for myself to collect and others for my friends,” said Orchid Zhang, 23, a student who is studying law at the Chinese University of Hong Kong.

Zhang said she was a 10-year fan of Commercial Radio and that is one of the reasons she bought the magazine.

“I often hear the DJs’ promotion of Blackpaper when I am listening to the radio,” said Zhang. “I am attracted by its content and am curious about the next issue when Bu advertises it in his radio program.”

The HK$1 magazine, with its distinctive layout, was initially available in just seven locations, including book store Kubrick, furniture shop G.O.D and creative social enterprise SkyHigh.

Bu said the reason why they set the price at HK$1 rather than put it online for free was because they didn’t want their efforts to be in vain. “Writing is of value. Nowadays the Internet is flooded with too much information that people can’t tell the good from the bad. Actually HK$1 is only a symbolic cost.”

Along with the new year of 2011, Blackpaper had a “facelift” with a new tagline, “Fake Entertainment Magazine”, and a new retailing partner, the world’s largest chain convenience 7-Eleven, with a sharp increase of selling locations up to 1,000.

Kain Fok, 19, a form-five student from Macau, left a message on the Blackpaper’s Facebook page complaining that she couldn’t buy the magazine in Macau.

Fok said she heard about Blackpaper from another magazine and was impressed by its interesting way of turning common things around. “I haven’t bought one yet because they don’t sell the magazine in Macau. And it was sold out quickly in Hong Kong,” said Fok.

When asked about the reasons for the magazine’s popularity, Bu said one is that the writing style of Blackpaper appeals to the current generation. “Every sentence in our magazine is short, just like status updates in Facebook and words in microblog.”

Siu-Wa Tang, an editor of Hong Kong-based literary magazine Fleurs des Lettres and a DJ from Radio Television Hong Kong, said the popular renown of DJ Bu and Seven Chan are the factors behind Blackpaper’s success with readers. “What’s more, Blackpaper itself caters to Hong Kong people because it is cheap, thin, light and [written in] short [sentences],” Tang said.

According to Blackpaper’s owners, they are still losing money on the business.

“But our purpose of creating the magazine is not to earn money. This is our hobby project and we just do it for fun,” said Bu.

A Blackpaper Bookset, which contains 12 issues of last year, is now on sale in Hong Kong. But Blackpaper’s ambitions don’t stop there. “We are exploring cooperation with some local fashion brands and even [thinking about] a music concert now,” Bu said.

Hong Kong — It was a Sunday at Random Art Workshop, where eight customers sat in pairs, working fastidiously around a table covered in paper, photographs, pink ruffles, heart-shaped doilies and sundry small objects. But the scene was unusual on this day: half of the participants were men.

“It’s something different. I haven’t done arts and crafts since primary school,” admitted 28-year-old Albert Chan, whose girlfriend surprised him with one of the couples scrapbooking workshops on February 13. She was seated beside him, trimming a photograph of their smiling faces.

Business was good on this day, which had three scrapbooking sessions scheduled. Joyce Yung, the 35-year-old founder of RAW, knew the couples workshops would draw customers. “Valentine’s Day is a great time to bond,” she said.

Indeed, at RAW’s workshops, the point of crafts is not just to make things. The concept is heavily focused on socializing – the notion that people can hang out and have fun while creating art.

But the belief expressed by her customer, that crafts are “something different,” is, ironically, precisely what Yung needs to overcome. She wants the Hong Kong public to instead put art activities on the top of their list as something to do after work.

Since opening a year and a half ago, RAW has hosted workshops that run the gamut from decoupage to henna tattooing. The fledgling company – which has yet to turn a profit – is constantly developing new workshop ideas, but its mainstays are scrapbooking and photography. Most of its workshops are three hours long with fees from $250 to upwards of $750. They include all necessary art supplies, but RAW also provides that which is most lacking in Hong Kong: space.

On the 12th floor in the middle of bustling Causeway Bay, the trapezoidal studio that houses RAW is an oasis of calm. Light floods through the floor-to-ceiling windows during the day. Large photographs and paintings adorn the white walls. Next to the crafts table are couches, a television and a stereo system. RAW also makes use of the space by hosting events such as birthday, bachelorette and corporate parties, in which arts and crafts are incorporated as an activity.

“It’s a very comfortable living room space that you can come to and enjoy and do some work,” Yung said. “Sometimes we get people who don’t want to leave.”

In the US, scrapbooking grew tremendously as a hobby over the past decade, but the fad has long been associated with an older demographic. Yung said her scrapbooking clientele’s age range is early twenties to mid-thirties, a departure from the stereotype of paper crafters.

Kristin Winstanley, RAW’s marketing manager and only full-time employee, said the scrapbooking market has evolved to engage younger crafters. “It’s much more trendy these days,” she said. “Usually you think of it as middle-aged or old ladies making them for their grandchildren, but the tools and techniques and paper are just so funky and modern now, it almost becomes like graphic design.”

There do not seem to be other companies in Hong Kong that offer such a diverse selection of workshops, but the popular Artjamming business – where individuals or groups spend several hours to paint on canvases, which they then take home – shares the concept of do-it-yourself in a social setting.

It is the emphasis on interaction among customers in a comfortable atmosphere that sets RAW and Artjamming apart from more structured art classes.

Cassie Mak, a 29-year-old Artjamming regular who works in finance, called it “socializing with paintbrushes.”

“It’s doing something while socializing. You don’t need to be talented to art jam, so it’s fun for people who enjoy art but don’t necessarily do it for a living,” she said.

Mak had heard of RAW and wanted to try the workshops but found there were too few on offer, which made it difficult for her to fit them into her schedule.

Yung said RAW hosts on average three workshops and two events per week, but, more workshops will be scheduled as participation grows. She said the ideal number would be two sessions per day. She also said she expects to turn a profit in another six months and admits that her original plan – to have broken even by now – was too aggressive.

For ten years, the Hong Kong native worked in risk management for a credit card company in New York and Hong Kong, but she decided to make a radical career change into the arts, first working as a photographer.

“All along I wanted to do my own thing, to be an entrepreneur. It was just a matter of finding the right thing, the right skill to make that move,” she said.

Now that she has found it, Yung is not afraid of dreaming big. She hopes to eventually have four branches of RAW in Hong Kong and then expand to other cities.

She also wants to see a shift in Hong Kong’s leisure culture. “My hope is that arts and crafts will automatically be thought of as another activity to do,” Yung said, adding, “instead of karaoke.”

“Don’t believe it too much. My true self is actually beautiful,” she joked as she introduced the cross-strait film screened on March 30 as part of the Hong Kong International Film Festival.

She could have fooled anyone. Chang’s performance had such heart and depth that it was easy to see her as a one-time Peking opera singer in despair rather than as a longtime Taiwanese actress with more than 80 film credits.

Buddha Mountain, which had its world premiere in Tokyo in October 2010, is the collaborative product of filmmakers and actors from Taiwan and mainland China. The film opened in Beijing in early March, grossing RMB25.7 million (HK$30.5 million) in the first four days.

The story is about three frustrated youths (played by Fan Bingbing, Chen Po Lin and Fei Long) who, seeking independence, rent rooms from a lonely woman (Chang) who is coping with the loss of her son. Each a little broken, the four characters learn to live together, let go and find comfort in one another.

As Chang said during a post-film Q&A: “Through the other party, they are able to feel their existence.”

The film’s title is taken from the name of a train station in Sichuan Province that the youths come across during one of their (many) directionless train-hopping jaunts.

Nearby, they discover an old temple destroyed by the earthquake in 2008. The three and their landlady help rebuild the Guan Yin Buddha temple, and in the process, put themselves together again.

To Chang, the train represents something profound, an allusion to life and death. “You can get on together and enjoy life, but who knows if you can get off together,” she said.

When the audience does disembark from the movie, it is left pondering an ambiguous ending.

It was an ending that Chang said she struggled with. “I discussed it with the director for half a year. I had lots of questions for her. [The scripted ending] didn’t seem right,” Chang said.  “But in the end, it was up to the director.”

The role was a departure for Chang, who is also a director and screenwriter. Chang, 57, is known for playing a tough-talking police officer in the Aces Go Places comedies in the 1980s.

“The director was looking for someone with a painful experience to play the role of the landlady. It’s different for me, but I tried to do my best because I like her work,” Chang said, referring to director Li Yu.

“The director used a hand-held technique so it didn’t feel like we were making a movie,” Chang added. “It felt like we were just living life.”

Li, whose controversial film Lost in Beijing was banned by Chinese authorities in 2008, did not appear at the Q&A because she was unable to process her visa application in time, according to HKIFF’s website.

View a clip from the film:

On the eighth anniversary of his death, fans worldwide took to cyberspace to pay tribute to their hero, posting video clips, reminiscing on microblogs and sharing photographs.

Some psychologists argue that internet memorials offer a valuable outlet for strong, intimate feelings.

“Internet sites have an increased amount of control and a sense of safety and security,” Susan Sylvia, a clinical psychologist in the psychology department at St. Louis Children’s Hospital told the Canadian-registered Techaddiction blog. “The ability to log on and have what you need available to you emotionally is enticing.”

View a Selection of Cybertributes to Leslie Cheung:

Due for release on big screens across Hong Kong on April 14, the soft-core movie is a remake of the 1991 Hong Kong cult sensation, Sex and Zen.

Its love-making scenes leave little to the imagination and have attracted the inevitable media headlines. But producer Stephen Shiu said that the movie’s real inspiration is a Chinese classic romantic novel The Carnal Prayer Mat.

“The soft core that I have made is at a standard where you can take away all the sex scenes and still have a great movie. If we don’t reach this level, then nothing distinguishes our movie from hard core porn,” Shiu said in a CNNGO interview.

The story starts with a innocent love scene as boy meets girl.

Wei Yangshang, a Ming Dynasty scholar, meets Tie Yuxiang, a beautiful and talented young lady. They fall in love at first sight, marry and quickly consummate their passion.

Wei believes that life is short, so he should enjoy his life with unbridled sexual pleasure as time allows. However, the well-bred Tie’s inhibitions leave Wei unsatisfied.

The story’s turning point begins when Wei follows a friend to the cunning Prince of Ning’s Pavilion of Ultimate Bliss, where men and women engage in wild orgies.

During his time in the sex cave, Wei experiences round-the-clock excitement, rape, and torture. His promiscuous sex life results in divorce from Tie. But the couple still love each other.

Another turning point occurs when the divorced couple end up in terrible circumstances in the cave.

Tied-up and experiencing genital torture, they confess their eternal love for each other.

The torture leaves them unable to have sex ever again. But Wei experiences an epiphany. He realises that making love isn’t all that important, and the couple go on to live happily together ever after.

“Speculators leave! Artists stay!”

”Save the artists!”

Set up outside the Wah Luen Industrial Centre in Fo Tan, a cadre of young activists with bullhorns regaled the throngs of visitors attending the the community’s annual open studios event over two weekends in January.

The activists, who are part of a grass-roots group called Revitalisation Independence Partnership, or RIP, were collecting signatures for a petition aimed at saving artists from the speculating activities in the district.

"We have to do something," -- Wong Chun-kwok

Activist and artist Wong Chun-kwok said the government’s revitalisation plans have pushed out artists who choose to work and live in Fo Tan’s industrial buildings.

“Artists depend of these kind of buildings because of the relatively low rent,” Wong said. But artists are getting frustrated because speculators are buying up their studios and pushing prices up, he said.

Currently, rent for a 1,500-square-foot studio is about HK$7,500, said a property agent with Midland Realty. But that is expected to increase to at least HK$8,000 by July, according to the agent.

“We have to do something,” Wong said. “If we don’t, the arts village will vanish.”

“And if industrial places are gone, then a lot of Hong Kong artists will have to give up their arts,” he added.

A place called home

In Hong Kong, 20% of the artists who work in industrial buildings are mainly located in Fo Tan, transforming this remote industrial area into one of the largest art clusters in the city, according to a survey conducted by the Hong Kong Arts Development Council (HKADC) last year.

Most of Fo Tan’s artists are tenants, and they stay for an average of 2.5 years, a “relatively short period of time”, according to the HKADC report.

Most are budding artists. More than half have less than 10 years of experience in the art field, said the HKADC, and music and visual arts are the major types of arts and cultural activities undertaken in the industrial buildings.

The Chinese University of Hong Kong is nearby, and some of the first artists to move to Fo Tan were CUHK graduates.

Castaly Leung Ching-man, a freelance painter and illustrator, was one of those original artists who moved to Fo Tan in 2001. Last year, she moved into a new studio — her fourth in nearly 10 years.

She said she has been pushed out each time.

“Usually two to three months after the open studios event, the agent would call and tell me that the owner has to sell the apartment to someone else,” Leung said. “They either ask me to move out or they raise the rent.”

Leung said the annual Fotanian event gives speculators a chance to check out their studio spaces.

“They weren’t interested in the artwork. Some just came in, walked around, and left if they didn’t

Artist Castaly Leung is a renter.

She wasn’t the only artist who has experienced this.

Chow Chun-fai, a multimedia artist who lives in the same building, keeps his curtains closed during the open studios event. He was one of the tenants who initiated the “趕走炒家，留住用家” campaign (Speculators Leave, Artists Stay).

Artists vs. Redevelopment

Hong Kong’s Planning Department has suggested rezoning 8.3 hectares, out of a total of 37 hectares of industrial land in the area. More than half is slated for residential use, and the rest is considered to be redeveloped into commercial zones or “comprehensive residential and commercial area.”

Such plans for Fo Tan sprouted from Chief Executive Donald Tsang’s proposal in 2009 to “release the potential” and “encourage the redevelopment or conversion” of over 1,000 old industrial buildings.

The series of measures include lowering the threshold for compulsory sale for redevelopment of industrial buildings; a “pay for what you build” approach, which would allow owners to pay additional premiums for extra redevelopment density; and an exemption of the change of land-use payment to owners who opt for a wholesale conversion instead of tearing down the building for redevelopment.

And adding fuel to the overheated speculation activities are reports that investors from mainland China are coming to buy industrial apartments. Agents have noted growing interest from speculators. Some real estate agencies have organized special teams to consult building owners and interested parties on redevelopment plans or potential takeovers.

In 2010, the total value of registered transfers of industrial buildings in the city hit HK$26.5 billion, a record high in 15 years. The value and the number of registered transfers have gone up by 77.2% and 50.6%, respectively, compared with 2009.

In Fo Tan, 42 industrial buildings are more than 15 years old, which fits the criteria for redevelopment.

Some visitors “rushed to the window once they entered to check out the views, then rushed back to the doorway to see how high the ceiling is, and how big the storage space is.” — Artist Castaly Leung

Director of Centaline Commercial (Industrial) Kwok Chor-wah estimated that there will be a 25% to 30% increase in price (per square feet) in 2011, and rental (per square feet) is expected to climb by 20%. There will also be a 20% increase in total transaction value in industrial buildings this year, Kwok said.

Climbing rent prices

Castaly Leung knows all about the rent increases.

“I remember 10 years ago it was HK$300,000 for a 1,200-square-foot studio. Four or five years ago, the price went up to HK$600,000,” she said. “Ten months ago, my previous studio was sold for HK$1,200,000. Last Friday, a real estate agent asked if I was interested in buying a studio for HK$1,600,000.”

Artists and factories coexist here.

According to sales figure from Centaline Commercial, studios in Wah Luen Industrial Centre, where Leung lives, fetch HK$1,500 to HK$2,000 per square feet now. That compares to an average of under HK$1,000 per square feet before Hong Kong’s revitalisation plan was announced.

Leung, though, is sticking to renting, despite the climbing prices.

“I always rent my studio,” she said. “I don’t have the ability to chase after the surging prices, so I cannot buy one.”

Eventually, some fear, the artists will be priced out of their own home.

They fear that Fo Tan will become another Kwun Tong, an industrial area with a cluster of more than 200 musicians that has been a victim of major revitalisation. In January 2010, Hidden Agenda, a local indie band, was among the first batch of artists who were forced to leave their studios because of redevelopment plans. The act was regarded by Inmediahk as “the first sacrifice of the government’s revitalisation policy and the largest forced eviction ever”.

Taking action

Wong, the activist with the RIP, said the group collected more than 4,000 signatures during

4,000 signatures were collected.

Fotanian — much more than he expected, he said.

The petition will go to the Home Affairs Department, Urban Development Board or the Development Bureau.

“We are trying to say that we need this kind of space, that the area is already changed to residential use,” Wong said. “A lot of people are using this space, so there’s no need for the government’s revitalisation plan…. We the artists are already revitalising it ourselves.”

The Joy Art Club
Address: Unit 2, 14/F, Block A, Wah Luen Industrial Centre, 15-21 Wong Chuk Yeung Street, Fo Tan, N.T. Hong Kong
Contact No: 9332 0424
Opening times: Saturdays from 5 to 8 pm
Website: http://www.joyartclub.com/

For more information about Winnie Davies, click here.

For more information about compensated dating click here.

Hong Kong — When a group of art graduates from the Chinese University of Hong Kong got together to open their studios to their small circle of friends, little did they know their event would become an annual tradition, drawing thousands of people to an industrial neighbourhood near suburban Shatin.

That was 10 years ago.

This year, over two weekends in January, an unprecedented number of artists and art lovers gathered at the Fo Tan art village for the 10th year of the Fotanian Open Studios event.  About 260 artists from more than 80 studios participated.

In Fo Tan, an art community has quietly developed mainly because of low rents. Over the years, artists producing paintings, sculptures, installations and other art forms have come to dominate a neighbourhood of low-rise industrial buildings once dominated by textiles and plastic goods factories.

Open Days Draw Crowds of Thousands

About 14,000 people attended this year, according to the organisers, who based the crowd estimate on the number of leaflets that were handed out. That’s an almost 30% increase compared with last year. The larger turnout means Fotanian is gaining popularity beyond Hong Kong’s art community, even without heavy financial help from corporate sponsors. Last year, the property giant, Sino Group, was a chief sponsor. But not this year.

“We actually have less funding for marketing and advertising this year, but more people came because there has been more media coverage,” said organiser Homan Ho Man-Tung, a sculptor.

Some studio artists and tenants are happy to see the larger crowds. “It’s a big chance for our gallery’s business because many potential clients come, which means more exposure for our work,” said Edwin Lo, who works for the Blue Lotus Gallery.

Winnie Davies, an artist at the Joy Art Club Gallery, said the Fotanian event provided an opportunity to educate the public about art.

[Corrected the spelling of Winnie Davies' last name. It is Davies, not Davis.]

The Joy Art Club studio

“For us, the open-studio idea is not about selling,” she said. “The idea is to nurture the public to know about art, to think about artwork as a kind of joy. It’s fun, not just a boring place to go.”

Exploring Hong Kong’s Cultural Side

Caroline Wuthrich, a visitor from Switzerland, said quality of the artworks ranged greatly.

“It’s nice to have so many creative people in one place who are working for art and culture in Hong Kong,” she said.

Kevin Young went to support local artists. He said Fo Tan was a good place to see what’s going on in Hong Kong’s art world.

The focus here isn’t the commercialisation of art, Young said. “Here, they are selling ideas,” he added, “so maybe they are not the finest paintings in Hong Kong, but they are the most original.”

More People, More Headaches

But, for some Fo Tan studios, bigger crowds also means more headaches.

“More people is a good thing, but in some cases, art has been destroyed by the audience,” Lo of the Blue Lotus Gallery said.

Artist Castaly Leung

Artist Castaly Leung Ching-man says she doesn’t appreciate visitors who don’t come for the art.

“Last year, I saw 10 people who just came in to talk on their phones here in my studio, “ she said. “I know it sounds unwelcoming, but I am just asking for a chance to interact with my audience, or exchange views with them, whether they like my work or not.”

Leung, who moved into the industrial buildings here 10 years ago, is one of the original organisers of the Fotanian event.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that it would be such a huge event,” she said. “A few years ago, the lifts weren’t very packed. But since last year, the place has become so crowded. There are so many people queuing up for the lifts.”

“I feel happy about having so many people coming,” she said, “but I think it’s a bit too much now.”