Conservation can no longer be seen as the work of government or heritage organisations, as it is now also the responsibility of the public to take charge and participate in preserving the physical memories of its country.

Three individuals have been doing just that, long before the Unesco listing was announced. They did it out of interest, out of passion and out of a responsibility to George Town, a city rich with history.

Architect Laurence Loh believes that buildings are physical legacies which are receptacles for living heritage, while conservation consultants Dr Gwynn Jenkins and Christopher Ong believe that these buildings can be converted into liveable spaces.

We met them to discuss restoration rules and came out learning that there aren’t any. However, there is one unwritten principle that the three of them adhere to when approaching a project — maintaining the spirit of the place through its aesthetics and purpose. These are their stories.

Laurence Loh
For Laurence Loh, getting into heritage preservation was like jumping into the deep end of a pool without really learning how to swim. Though an architect by profession, he confesses that he knew nothing about heritage restoration when he and his friends embarked on restoring the iconic Blue Mansion on Leith Street, officially known as the Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion, in George Town.

Loh banked on “common sense and my architectural background”, and he approached it with a high level of sensitivity because he knew that the stakes were high.

“Each building has its story, and it’s our job to make sure that the story isn’t lost,” he shares. “These old buildings are physical legacies which are receptacles for living heritage, to contain intangible depositories of knowledge. We have to treat it as such.”

Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion, which won the Unesco Asia-Pacific Heritage Awards for Most Excellent Project in 2000, is now a charming little hotel of sorts, offering “exclusive heritage homestays”, guided tours and even tailored functions on its premises.

“The mansion was a very private space, so while we offer accommodation to help sustain the place, the exclusivity and privacy of the grounds is still maintained. People can’t just walk in and out of this place, just like before when it was a home,” says Loh. “You have to treat a structure like a personality. Critical in the exercise is recapturing the spirit of the place. The main objective of physical conservation is to maintain or recapture the spirit of the place.”

The architect believes that part of the restoration process is translating the building’s old use into a new use. “The space was designed for something specific; so, for the new use to be successful, it should somewhat be related closely to the original use of the space. But if that isn’t possible, then you have to think of inserting a new use that enhances the space. You have to ask, how do you help enhance it beyond its true self?” says Loh. “You shouldn’t deviate too much from the path. What you should try to do is to add new myths to the old myths to further strengthen the story of the place.”

Loh is a believer of “conservation for change”, which is his personal mantra every time he approaches a project. Change is inevitable, he says, but you must make efforts to ensure that the change is positive.

Before the restoration of Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion, the old buildings on Leith Street were in disrepair. But the moment this mansion was restored again, like a ripple effect, buildings down the street underwent restoration programmes of their own.

“Restoration or heritage preservation is a great tool for area regeneration. You can see how others get inspired when someone takes the lead,” says Loh. “We need communities to take ownership of their own environment and be aware of and appreciate the value in maintaining that environment that is specific to their existence. We need to save the country’s memory from destruction.”

Dr Gwynn Jenkins
The British-born Dr Gwynn Jenkins comes from a family of restorers, so to speak, as her father used to restore stately old houses in Britain — something that influenced her adult ambitions of taking up architecture. Fate brought her to Penang in 1995, and she decided to stay, won over by the island’s friendly charm, and of course, all the restoration work that was to be done there. She joined conservation architectural firm, Architect LLA, and at the same time, did her PhD on conservation strategies in the context of a developing Asian city, with George Town as her focus.

Her unique perspective on restorative work is to revive old buildings for the residents to continue living in. “When I first came here, I was staying in a shophouse in Stewart Lane and so I was involved in all the festivals like Cheng Beng and so on. That sort of exposure made me realise that these people were the ones who really kept the cultural identity of George Town alive! The people who went to the market and who made the coffee and all that… they defined what George Town is.”

She adds: “It’s the connections that the city has as well. For example, the joss stick maker gets his supply from his neighbour who’s the same guy he’s been getting it from for years. If we move the joss stick man, he’ll have to find another new supplier, and that connection with his old friend is lost. Restoring all these buildings is a great thing, but chasing them out was probably not a good way to go.”

In her study of the traditional Penang shophouse, Gwynn picked up on certain things that made it a perfect living space. “These houses are both for dead people and living people, they are meant for families and their ancestors to live together. We should be allowing more of that to happen, as in actually getting traditional families to live here again,” she says.

There is a plan in place to do that, a social housing model that tries to see how a public-private partnership can be established that supports landlords who recognise the need to keep existing communities together but don’t want to lose out commercially. When the Rent Control Act was introduced in 2000, Gywnn was on a committee which tried to see if this would work based on London’s Peabody Trust model of funding community housing. At that time, it didn’t work.

“Right now, the city of George Town has changed a great deal from what it once was and we have to look at it as a new slate. George Town is a confluence of so many interesting traditions and cultures, and it’s a very reciprocal way of life. If we lose any of it, we’re devaluing the city — we’ll inherit inner city suburbs instead of inner city communities. Land ownership patterns have changed; there are more small landowners, there is a new generation of landowners who have new ideas. George Town is also dotted with increasingly derelict buildings, apparently owned by absentee landlords and so on. Of course, people who do want to buy into the city area and live here want houses that don’t leak — how do we approach such a situation? That’s what the focus is in the future.”

The social housing project she speaks of will address this issue, and many others relating to repopulating the city she now lovingly calls home. “There is definitely a lot of opportunities for this to happen, the seed of the idea (to restore) is great and the willingness of government departments to get involved is a joy to see. Right now, we need more dialogue and more research to formulate a plan that will work in Penang,” says Gwynn.

Christopher Ong
A retired fund manager with Bankers Trust in Australia and fifth generation Baba, Christopher Ong gave up his successful career in finance to pursue his passion for heritage. “As much as I loved what I did before, I felt that there were other aspects of my life I needed to nurture,” says Ong, who won the Unesco conservation award for restoring a mansion and turning it into the Gaulle Fort Hotel, a leading boutique hotel in Sri Lanka. His restoration work portfolio also includes more than 50 heritage homes in Melbourne and Sydney’s inner city.

The work Ong does is out of his own interest. “You need to use these houses — you can’t just buy them and do nothing with them,” he says.

Two years ago, he purchased a shophouse in Muntri Street in George Town and restored it to beauty. He also lives in it, in a bid to prove that it is possible to convert these heritage homes into liveable spaces for the 21st century.

“I’m actively promoting people to come and live in George Town. To convince people to invest, I have to show what is possible,” he reiterates.

Ong’s shophouse was formerly an old grocery store that had to shut down due to the sudden high increase in rent.

“When I bought it, it was in a very sad state, but I could see the beauty in it,” says Ong.
The whole restoration process for this particular house took only 12 months. Ong uncovered a floor-toceiling screen, beautifully carved and gilded. He found traditional carvers that were able to help restore the antique screen to former glory. “If people say there are no more tradesmen to do this kind of work, they’re not looking hard enough,” he says.

Ong used only salvaged materials to do up the house. For his kitchen cabinets, he used old windows as its doors and he salvaged old English tiles from demolition sites for wall features or to be used in bathrooms.

“You don’t need to always use new things to make something beautiful,” says Ong. “If you know how to do it, it doesn’t really cost that much to do restoration work. You can restore it to Rolls Royce standard or you can restore it to Proton standard. It’s up to you. What I wanted to do was restore it to the original, authentic standard but with modern touches and modern conveniences.”

Upstairs, Ong converted the space into four big and luxurious bedrooms, each with en suite bathrooms, “because that’s how we live now”. He adds: “What’s important is that the façade and the roofscape are maintained. Inside, you have a free hand to adapt the space to the lifestyle you’re accustomed to.”

To inject new blood and new energy in the house’s restored walls, Ong has immersed himself in the Peranakan culture. “I didn’t want to just talk the talk, I wanted to walk the walk,” he says. “Within this house, I celebrate and practise all the Peranakan festivals, from the ancestral offerings to Chinese New Year and Cheng Beng (equivalent to All Souls Day) and recreate the culture that was very much alive during the heydays of the 1930s. I always cook a big Peranakan feast during these festivals, to make offerings and invite my friends and my relatives. I try to keep it alive by practising it and getting people involved.”

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