Mong Ha contract dispute renews doubts on quality of public housing

Twenty people from the construction material suppliers and the sub-contractor that built part of the facilities of Phase 2 of the affordable housing estate of Mong Ha staged another demonstration outside the construction site yesterday, delivering a petition demanding the outstanding payment of MOP40m that the contractor allegedly owes them. But the contractor denied the allegation, prompting new doubts on the quality of public housing estates after Phase 1 of Mong Ha was found to have massive peeling of its tile covering earlier this month. 

The group of suppliers and the sub-contractor staged a rally outside Mong Ha’s construction site on the road of Rua de Francisco Xavier Pereira in the northern district, requesting an intervention by the government to help them claim back the MOP40m. Police was standing by at the scene.

But the contractor told the broadcaster they terminated the contract with the sub-contractor due to the sub-contractor’s low construction and management skills. The contractor also filed a lawsuit against the subcontractor for document forgery, and denied owing the sub-contractor any outstanding remuneration after an earlier payment of MOP62m had settled all due charges. The company was quoted as saying that the dispute would not affect the quality of the Mong Ha public housing estate. Mong Ha’s Mong Sin Building was found to have tiles falling from walls on several floors into public areas, prompting debate on whether construction quality was sacrificed for a timely completion of the public housing units the government promised.

Regarding the Sin Fong Garden building that was evacuated last October due to structural problems, the Government is calling for cooperation by Sin Fong shop owners, and posted notices outside shops on the ground floor of the building. The notice says shop owners have a legal obligation to allow government workers inside their premises to carry out reinforcement works intended to prop-up the demised structure, which was found to be suffering from large cracks in the walls, as well as distorted main pillars, prompting fears of a building collapse.

According to TDM’s report, the owners refused entry of workers after the government granted urgent housing allowances for residents in the building, before the authority claim back the money from the party/parties responsible for the problem. An investigation report initiated by the government is entering its final stage, and will likely pave the way to compensation claims against the party/parties responsible for the exodus affecting hundreds of residents.

But the shop owners on the ground floor were not given the same subsidy, expressing fears that they might not be able to independently claim their losses against the responsible party/parties. The owners have sent petition letters to the Chief Executive requesting assistance. The government also published a press release on Wednesday calling for cooperation among shop owners, as the reinforcement works on the ground floor are crucial in ensuring the building is protected from possible collapse.

In 2001, Tod and I lived above Carnegie Hall. Most New Yorkers at the time didn't know there were residential studios in a tower on top of the building. Our rent was too good to be true, and soon we heard rumors that the hall was going to evict tenants to convert the studios into rehearsal space. The buzz motivated us to buy a safety apartment—just in case.

Our architectural practice was taking off, and we wanted to live on top of a building—for the sunlight and view. We looked at penthouses and fell in love with an awful one on Central Park South—just blocks from our office. The building's owner had mounted it on the roof in the '60s, and the interior was a wreck—shag carpeting and gold-veined smoked mirror tiles on the walls and ceiling. But being able to see the park from the 22nd floor and the silence won us over.

When we closed on the space in 2001, Tod and I thought we were buying an apartment—but we wound up with a construction site. We tore down the structure and put up a 16-by-30-foot glass box. Now when you walk in the front door, you enter another world. There are 9-foot floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides, a wood-paneled kitchen, a tiny bedroom just big enough for a bed, and a bathroom with a tub that looks out to the view. The penthouse became our glamour pad—like a quiet place in the country.

In 2008, we received a formal eviction letter from Carnegie Hall. That's when Tod and I realized our glass penthouse wasn't going to work as a primary residence. We couldn't move our art collection and books there. The space was too small, and the walls were all glass. We talked briefly about selling, but we loved the penthouse too much. Instead, we decided to look for a second apartment—a simple place for our life stuff.

We had always been fond of an unusual 10-story building on the Upper West Side. It was built in 1915 as a cooperative—housing residences and artists' lofts on opposite sides of the same floors. In some ways the layout had the same spirit as the Carnegie Hall studios. Apartments with double-height living spaces were all taken, but we found a duplex that was 15 feet wide by 28 feet long on the first level and a little larger on the second.

We gutted both levels and painted the entire interior white—including the wood floors—to brighten the space and make it feel larger. We created three different zones on the first level—a galley kitchen, a dining area and living space—by designing a continuous series of elevated platforms. We unified all three with a 13-foot-long white marble countertop.

When you enter the duplex, you are immediately in the kitchen galley. Next you step up to a platform where you can sit on stools and dine at the counter. Then you walk up two steps to sit in the living area. That final elevation allowed the back of our long sofa to meet the base of the apartment's original 20-foot-high studio window, which continues up to the second level.

Upstairs, you arrive at a living area with a flat-screen TV and sofas. We wanted a quiet wall for the hall connecting the living area to our bedroom, so we created floor-to-ceiling panels of etched Bendheim glass with mirrors behind them. The mirrors reflect light into the etched glass, producing a greenish, satiny wall surface.

Tod and I have been married since 1983 and we're together all the time—at work and at our two apartments. I suppose we've never had a big enough fight for us to spend time separately in the two homes. When we're at the duplex, Tod prefers to be upstairs watching sports. I like being downstairs—near the bookcases and the food.

We also spend a lot of time looking at our art, which includes photography by Rachel Perry Welty, a small sculpture by Mark di Suvero and mixed media by El Anatsui. Art isn't fraught, and we'd rather be indirectly inspired by our collection than directly stimulated by other works of architecture in books.