Square Inch Anthropology

This imposing interface of faucets, pipes, and gauges controls a massive, truck-mounted tank dispensing oxygen. Though perhaps not a fixture in the fish wholesale market nearest you, its job in this context is critical; the fleet of mobile vendors and fish transporters who make their living supplying Chongqingers with fresh fish each day depend upon it, because here, "fresh" means "alive". As an American used to perusing dead fish lined up on ice (and for many of my fellow citizens who might define fresh as "cold"), the challenge of keeping fish alive from catch to sale was one that was previously unconsidered. Though daunting, this convenient "binary" freshness standard is also easy to enforce - whilst certain tricks may be employed to bolster the appearance of "freshness" in other contexts, it remains challenging to convince a customer that a given fish is alive when it actually is not (all Monty Python sketches aside). Vehicle drivers - from tiny 3-wheelers to huge ten-wheelers - depend on this oxygen truck to keep their tanks topped off, whether they are parked and selling fish out of the back of their vehicles to middlemen or if they are preparing for their journey to the markets across this city of 30 million.

The more "alive" a vendor can keep a fish, the better. At the point of sale, once a customer approaches and the vendor has ascertained the type of fish they are considering, they will often give the container of fish in question a spirited shake to agitate the fish. This is connected with establishing different "grades" of alive – with the more discerning customers actually picking up a fish they are considering purchasing in order to test its "liveliness" (the more struggle and resistance exhibited, the healthier and "fresher" it is perceived to be).

Fish vendors take varied approaches to how they oxygenate their water and display their wares, though the common denominator tends towards a small, battery-powered air pump as the key tool, with the input hooked up to an oxygen tank (or simply pulling in outside air) and the output running through multiple tubes feeding into the rear tank or various plastic tubs where fish are displayed. A car battery is the most common power source. The most successful of these systems keep the fish lively enough to take leaps of faith as they attempt to find a way out of the back of the vehicle-based, portable pool from which they are about to be sold.

In the penultimate stage of their journey, from the storage tanks of the larger trucks at the end of their cross-country journeys to the smaller vehicles setting off for neighborhoods and markets across Chongqing, fish are shuttled through the market from one vehicle to another in various iterations of wire baskets mounted on carts. Nearly all are pushed by men donning hardhats, as getting beaned in the head by an ill-aimed fish can actually prove fatal. Ill-aimed tosses happen less often than one might think, however, considering the logistics of throwing a wet, scaly, wriggling animal into an extremely small opening in a fiberglass tank out of sight up on top of a truck.

The white machine on the left dispenses condoms, while the one on the right dispenses pesticide bait (targeting cockroaches, specifically). Both require a single 1元 coin (US $0.16), markedly limiting the potential for spontaneous purchase by passersby (carrying 1元 coins is not particularly common in Shenzhen – the proliferation of coins varies across China). Some context: These are in Shenzhen, across from the main entrance to a middle school in the district of Nanshan which, at this time in the afternoon, had a relatively high number of lingering parents/nannies waiting to pick up children. 

Nearby shops and vendors are likely aware of the existence of these machines and their requirement for coins – personally, the temptation would be too great to resist as I attempted to judge which of the two products a given individual asking for coins  (regardless of whether they wanted either, and simply needed the coins for another purpose). Is the middle-aged woman dressed in a conservative pantsuit and toting a (real?) Louis Vuitton bag interested in obtaining coins for contraception or pest eradication? If contraception, for intercourse with her husband - or someone else? What about the man in his 20's with the gelled coiffure and stud earring? Perhaps he needs both in anticipation of a date he's got this weekend where a clean (pest-free) apartment is a priority (in modern Shenzhen, a city comprised mostly of internal immigrants from across China, the tradition of living with one's parents has necessarily been suspended, and while some residents opt to live with colleagues or friends, others choose a space of their own).

Lack of distinctive branding on either machine would likely mean negative implications for trust. While those seeking cockroach bait may not have such high thresholds when weighing purchase options, with no permanent harm done if it fails to work as anticipated/advertised. Condoms are a different story, however – failure brings potentially greater repercussions (side note – consider the ethical implications involved in developing a condom designed to break, along with potential use cases).

Consider also the implications in this context of being seen by acquaintances (or even random passersby) making either purchase. These factors don't seem to have been too closely considered in the placement of such machines - the condom dispenser is positioned along the more crowded segment of the sidewalk, whilst the pest bait machine hides somewhat more subtly around the corner (though still in relatively plain sight due to the paucity of tree coverage).

Consider the implications of this warning (the rightmost panel in particular) on an escalator in the Shanghai Urban Planning Museum. In a context where pet ownership is on the rise, and behaviors around what is "proper" (or even what a “pet” is) are still in flux, the surrounding urban infrastructure and its accompanying usage guidelines try to keep up – and perhaps influence the definition a bit themselves.

Think of the places in your own urban context where an escalator (or other public pieces of infrastructure and spaces – public buses, metro/subway stops, police stations, urban planning museums, etc.) could potentially be critiqued as being "pet-unfriendly". How would a "pet-friendly" version of each of those look (based, of course, upon the context’s definition of a “pet” and where said pets are allowed/encouraged)?

The improvised security system rigged to the entrance of this building alerts the (perhaps snoozing) door guard to the arrival of late-night entrants. An antique-looking bell is suspended in the corner of the sliding glass door. Along the top of the door, parallel to the bells, are taped several expired batteries. When the risk for sleep for the door guard seems imminent in the wee-hours, he will detach the bell from the length of string holding it away from the door, causing it to rest directly against the door. The course of the said door sliding open brings the batteries into contact with the bell, causing several clearly audible rings in succession.

On a long walk beneath the elevated highway abutting the Jialing River, one will naturally encounter people settled in varying degrees of formality, with a particularly sharp contrast between the different worlds above and beneath it. Above is the world of ultra-lux highrises with million-kuai views surrounded by cranes and the accompanying rubble of rapid construction. Beneath the highway, a contextually adjusted version of prosperity hinges upon something as seemingly trivial as access to water that comes out of a PVC pipe off of the road above.

Those who dwell beneath this particular stretch of elevated highway have developed a few methods for off-grid subsistence. For example, water that drips through the cracks in the concrete overhead or flows from plastic drainpipes overhead is collected in buckets and used for drinking, homemade fertilizer production (brewed in a repurposed bathtub, in this case), and irrigating small gardens. The often lush and orderly rows of the vegetable patches beneath the highway stand in contrast to the jumbled nature of the nearby residences which are formed primarily from scavenged construction materials and wedged amidst piles of rubble.

Judging by the clustering of water vessels both around the highway’s few formal drainage pipes and the bases of the support columns upon which rivulets tended to form, there seems to be a potential argument for the design of more formal water outlets into the highway – that is, assuming that urban gardening on unused land is something Chongqing’s city planners desire to promote (perhaps assuming too much). Framing this as the optimal deployment/recycling of resources, does it count as an element of a "smart city" if it is "accidentally smart"? It worked for penicillin, I suppose.

A solitary tent has been pitched in a corner of the massive pavilion in front of the Chongqing North Train Station, sheltering its inhabitants from one of the city's frequent light drizzles. Hard to know if this outcome was "according to plan" , or not. Were this picture taken at any time other than October's National Day Holiday (the Chinese Lunar New Year's infamous "Spring Rush" / 春运 ), I would believe this situation as improvised instead of anticipated. However, considering the rising countrywide popularity of all facets of outdoors activity (particularly if said activities require the procurement of various types of kinds of high-end, expedition-quality gear), coupled with both the skyrocketing prices and scarcity of hotel rooms and train/plane tickets that traditionally accompany Chinese holidays, the idea of camping in front of a train station may have seemed like a good idea in the abstract.

There is a fine balance between instilling the ability in a child to become independently mobile while still maintaining influence over said mobility. In that, note how these tricycles are not gear-and-chain driven, but rather "shuffle-powered" (or, alternatively, "[grand]parent-powered"). On the continuum from "walking" to "riding a bicycle", does this particular stage of child-mobility exist in your context? Consider the cultural-specificities that make this (and similar child-mobility devices) a common sight in China, and think also about the comparable extent of parent/guardian control exerted over such a vehicle in your context (and the child's varying degrees of acceptance of said control).

There is a wide array of techniques and behaviors around public drying in China - from vegetables and meats, to clothing, to the inventory of a store specializing in calligraphy brushes placed upon a patch of sidewalk in front of the store. Noteworthy drying behaviors aren't limited to space-constrained urban densities, either - I've recently seen stone walls become lettuce drying racks, and odd-length branches in wood piles hung with recently-washed shoes. 

Consider the practices that surround drying of different sorts of objects in your context - indoors/private or outdoors/public (and whether that varies by season)? Machine, line or rack (or monkey bars)? What are the infrastructure (built-in or improvised) and customs that support or discourage particular drying behaviors - and to what those behaviors apply ? Consider the factors causing that to vary (population density, education, income, electricity access, and so on.

This contraption stood out amongst several notable repurposings and customizations in this three-wheeled vehicle-based repairman's repertoire. Normally, he sits upon a tall wooden stool behind his portable worktable, while customers waiting for him to finish a simple task such as copying keys (or, in the event of one customer's shoe that needed emergency repairs, when they are unable to leave until the task is completed) sit on this wooden stool.

Looking, one will notice a small gap surrounded by metal plating and sporting interesting wear patterns. This stool is actually an important element of a tool: A long bar is fit into the gap, with one end bracing against the ground and the other straddled by the user. The curved shape of the protruding end of the bar allows the user to place a just-patched cooking pot or metal bowl upon it, and hammer the recently affixed (and un-rounded) patch into a rounded shape so that it matches the surrounding material in curvature. During such operations, the customer will switch seats with the repairman, sitting on the taller stool while the repairman manipulates this stool-derived flattening tool.