Curating the selective memory of gentrification: the Wulixiang Shikumen Museum in Xintiandi, Shanghai

Depósito de investigación de la Universidad de Sevilla https://idus.us.es/ Esta es la versión aceptada del artículo publicado en: This is a accepted manuscript of a paper published in: International Journal of Heritage Studies (2021): 27/01/2025 DOI: https://doi.org/10.1080/13527258.2020.1821237 Copyright: © 2021 Published with licence by Informa uK limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group El acceso a la versión publicada del artículo puede requerir la suscripción de la revista. Access to the published version may require subscription. “This is an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Taylor & Francis in [International Journal of Heritage Studies] on [2021], available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/13527258.2020.1821237.” Curating the selective memory of gentrification: The Wulixiang Shikumen Museum in Xintiandi, Shanghai Plácido González Martínez College of Architecture and Urban Planning, Tongji University, Shanghai, China ! * This article was published online in the International Journal of Heritage Studies on September 18, 2020, DOI: 10.1080/13527258.2020.1821237 Abstract The relationship between micro-narratives of house museums and the macronarrative of urban development constitutes a gap in the research on the gentrification of historical urban areas in China. The commercial redevelopment of two blocks of Xintiandi, located in the core of Shanghai’s former French concession and a major tourism destination, embodies one of four major urban heritage conservation methods applied in the city. We argue that the Wulixiang Shikumen Museum, which is Xintiandi’s primary cultural facility, reinforces an argument of ‘modern nostalgia’ that has characterised heritage production in Shanghai. Our discursive analysis, based on site visits and interviews, focused on the museum’s architectural layout and the collection and interpretation of materials relating to a nostalgia discourse that integrates cosmopolitanism, tradition and cultivation, considered as attributes of Shanghai’s modernisation during its heyday in the 1920s and 1930s. We argue that the micro-narrative of this museum contributes to a macro-narrative of development, which, as exemplified by Xintiandi, encourages the gentrification of Shanghai’s historical neighbourhoods. We further argue that an authorized version of Shanghai’s semicolonial past legitimises wider social and economic changes, while obscuring memories associated with decades of collectivisation. Keywords Heritage authenticity, urban redevelopment, house museum, urban heritage conservation, gentrification Introduction This paper explores the role of museums in legitimating gentrification within urban heritage revitalisation projects in China. The confluence of economic and political interests is evident in heritage production in China (Oakes 2019; Zhu and Maags 2020), adding a distinctive cultural element to urban redevelopment (Bourdieu 1987) that feeds into the developmental discourses of urban growth coalitions (Law 2020). We examine the relationship between heritage, redevelopment and narratives, exemplified by the Wulixiang Shikumen Museum (‘Wulixiang’) in Xintiandi, Shanghai, which evokes nostalgia through a display of domesticity within a recreated historical architectural setting. Drawing on Lyotard’s (1984) characterisation, we argue that the micro-narrative of everyday life in the Shanghai of the 1930s fuels a grand narrative of modernisation embedded within governmental discourses. This grand narrative operates to justify social changes associated with urban redevelopment that result in gentrification. We begin by introducing Xintiandi, the site of what domestic scholars acknowledge to be a pioneering initiative in urban heritage revitalisation in Shanghai. Zheng (2017) and Chang (2017) have examined how Xintiandi contributed to greater appreciation of the value of Chinese historic cities, which subsequently attracted interest among entrepreneurs. The Xintiandi initiative sparked a series of ‘Tiandi’ revitalisations, either promoted by the same developer in capitals like Wuhan, Chongqing and Foshan or by other developers across various Chinese historical cities who were inspired by this initiative. However, evaluations of Xintiandi’s revitalisation process, which was completed in 2002, have varied. Whereas UNESCO (2016) criticised associated relocations and the gentrification of this area, the World Bank lauded its conjoining of conservation and entrepreneurialism (Wang 2016). As a notable redevelopment project, Xintiandi has been the subject of scholarly research. He and Wu (2005) presented a detailed, economically-oriented processual account, highlighting articulations between stakeholders in the creation of a phenomenal urban growth machine. Their rich insights are matched by those of Ren (2008), who conducted an in-depth analysis of the relocation process that highlighted sociological issues. However, Wulixiang, which is a core element in Xintiandi’s ideological and commercial redevelopment programme, has been overlooked in these and other sociological studies (Zhong & Cheng 2017) and in studies on Xintiandi’s environmental and architectural design (Wai 2006; González Martínez 2019). Lagerqvist (2010) briefly referred to Wulixiang as the ‘Xintiandi Museum’, while Ren (2008) suggested that its display of objects was characteristic of city branding. Although Wai’s (2006) study entails important insights, it does not engage deeply with the discourses whereby everyday life in in the 1930s in Shanghai was ‘glamorized’ and ‘cleaned up’ (Wai 2006, 255). We argue that within the overall symbolic portrayal of Xintiandi, Wulixiang merits greater attention as a cultural element that complements the site of the First National Congress of the Communist Party of China, contributing to the macronarrative of Shanghai’s modernisation. We suggest that the traditional architectural setting combined with the curation of artefacts and interpretation materials in Wulixiang build on a nostalgic heritage discourse of the modern, used by authorities and entrepreneurs and later appropriated by diverse societal actors. Hodge and Beranek (2011, 99) called for the study of ‘house museums, especially those situated in primarily local or regional contexts … (which) are undertheorized as engines of heritage, and the power struggles that heritage both reproduces and critiques’. We acknowledge the role of narratives, both micro and macro, demonstrating the ‘coherence, the integrity, fullness and closure of an image of life that is and can only be imaginary’ (White 1980, 27). We argue that notwithstanding their legitimisation of gentrification, narratives are authenticated through conservation and curatorial methods. Accordingly, we endorse Zukin’s (2010) characterisation of authenticity as a cultural construction that provides a rationale for the eviction of low- income and marginalised groups from inner cities. From this perspective, the project of returning the historical built environment to a sanitised and presumedly ‘original’ state evidenced in Wulixiang serves as an integral tool for Xintiandi’s gentrification. This study aims to address the following questions: (1) How does the architectural conservation of the traditional house that accommodates Wulixiang contribute to its nostalgic narrative? (2) How does the displayed collection contribute to authenticating architectural conservation strategies? (3) How does the resulting micronarrative minimise the downsides of gentrification in Xintiandi and, by extension, those of the redevelopment of Shanghai’s urban heritage? As we show, the relationship between nostalgic narratives, heritage authenticity and urban gentrification critically informs the answers to these questions. Moreover, such narratives are authenticated through the deployment of conservation and curatorial strategies, subsequently serving to legitimate the gentrification of historical neighbourhoods. Our methodology is based on discourse analysis, encompassing a qualitative analysis of visual and textual data relating to the spatial and material layouts of the reconstructed building that houses the exhibition; the arrangement of furniture, objects and photographs; and interpretive texts on the exhibition. As the museum is part of a large commercial enterprise, its informational material does not allude to its curator or designer. Therefore, our analysis was grounded in visits to the institution along with indepth interviews held with the each of the two designers of Xintiandi, which incorporates the museum. During our four site visits to Wulixiang undertaken between October 2015 and August 2019, we photographed the museum layout and displayed objects to capture changes that could indicate a discursive re-elaboration. Our fieldwork also included the compilation of secondary sources, such as museum brochures and information on the displays. In this paper, we first introduce the historical built environment of the inner city of Shanghai and its characteristic residential architectural typology, known as shikumen. The history of the shikumen is intertwined with that of Shanghai’s modernisation process and the production of haipai, Shanghai’s indigenous cosmopolitan culture. We next examine the conservation principles applied in Xintiandi and their divergence from the intervention in Wulixiang. We analyse the architecture and the museum display in Wulixiang, characterising its nostalgic discourse as a blend of cosmopolitanism, tradition and cultivation. In conclusion, we present a critical evaluation of Wulixiang’s contribution to Xintiandi as an entrepreneurial and political project. In doing so, we highlight its momentous influence on the legitimation of gentrification, considered a ‘lesser evil’ in the redevelopment of Shanghai’s heritage areas. Drawing on empirical evidence relating to the museum’s physical space and the arrangement of its contents, we argue that Wulixiang reinforces an idea of the modern that has made a significant, though unacknowledged, contribution to the overall project of modernisation, nationalism and developmentalism in Shanghai that has been in effect since the onset of the Opening Up and Reform. Shikumen: A housing typology that bears witness to political changes in Shanghai Shikumen, which is Shanghai’s characteristic housing typology, prevailed on a mass scale during the period from the last third of the nineteenth century to the first third of the twentieth century. Typically found in high-density neighbourhoods known as lilong, it combines Chinese vernacular and modern Western architectural housing styles. The name shikumen originates from the monumental stone-carved gate leading to the south-side of a courtyard. The courtyard opens on to the central bay of the three bays that define the public area on the ground floor of the house. Entry into the shikumen from the north side leads to private and service areas. The private and public areas share a central stairway for accessing the upper floor that originally comprised the family rooms and an additional leased space known as the tingzijian. A highly speculative real estate product, narratives on the shikumen have changed with historical political shifts in Shanghai (Zhao 2004; Liang 2008; Li 2014). Up to 1937, shikumen was the predominant housing type in a market that was dominated by foreign entrepreneurs. Originally designed for individual families, all shikumen became the property of the state after the inception of the People’s Republic of China in 1949. Socialist legislation mandated the subdivision and redistribution of these properties to incoming families, leading to a dramatic increase in population density (Zhao 2004). Overcrowding and a lack of maintenance along with additional partitioning to accommodate the migration flow in the 1950s and 1960s accelerated the deterioration of shikumen. By the end of the Cultural Revolution, shikumen had degenerated into urban slums and were stigmatised during the reform and opening up years. The turn to entrepreneurialism within the governance strategies developed for Chinese cities in the 1980s (Duckett 1996; Jessop & Sum 2000; Wu 2000) led to the razing of shikumen in central urban areas and the gentrification of these newly-built areas (Arkaraprasertkul 2010; Ren 2014; Shin 2016; González Martínez 2017). Figure 1. View of a lilong street, with entrances to the shikumen. Source: The author. The rapid disappearance of shikumen neighbourhoods, however, moved local scholars, who called for their consideration as heritage based on their architectural and urban values. The municipal government echoed this concern. Consequently, the first municipal listing of ‘Shanghai’s Excellent Modern Buildings’ in 1989 included seven notable shikumen neighbourhoods. Strikingly, these seven properties were not routinely added to the national listings, indicating the endurance of the stigma attached to shikumen in the popular Chinese imaginary (Zhu & Hein 2020). The designation of additional shikumen neighbourhoods in the Master Plan of Shanghai (1999–2020) further enhanced their value (Zheng 2017). Amidst preparations for the 2010 Shanghai World Expo, the municipal government listed 12 urban areas, covering 27 sq. km. in 2003 under the ‘Shanghai Historical and Cultural Areas and Outstanding Historical Buildings Protection Ordinance’. The majority of these buildings were shikumen (Wang 2011). Subsequently, the growth coalition formed between the government and the developers began to focus on the production of an identity that matched Shanghai’s global aspirations (He 2009; Wong and Liu 2016). As part of Shanghai’s capitalistic past, Shanghai’s shikumen were integral to this process and were thus appropriated as an essential feature of the city’s futuristic character (Farrer 2010; Lagerqvist, 2010; Pan and Liu 2011; Hubbert 2017). Haipai culture: Nostalgia for the modernity of Shanghai of the 1930s The literature from the late 1990s to the early 2000s reveals the intensity of the abovementioned appropriation following the power shift in the state-level leadership after 1989 that favoured the recovery of Shanghai’s historical, political and economic role as bridge between China and the West. Wasserstrom (2003) argued that renewed interest in Shanghai’s semi-colonial history was linked to the objective of legitimating political, social and economic changes in China during the Opening Up and Reform years. New discourses had to overcome the city’s association with Western imperialism as well as controversial memories of the Cultural Revolution. As nostalgic intent, they intended not to recover the past but to project Shanghai towards the future (Pan 2001; Lu 2002; Wasserstrom 2003). Fantasy is a characteristic of nostalgia (Stewart 1984), meriting attention as it constitutes a form of activism for eliciting the emotions of visitors, inhabitants and spectators (Smith and Campbell 2015). The nostalgic turn enshrined the haipai culture (literally, the ‘Shanghai style’, which is synonymous with cosmopolitanism) as being representative of Shanghai’s character (Wakeman 2019). The opening up of the Shanghai archives enabled historians to recover materials for reconstructing memories of international settlements (Abbas 2000; Kong 2009) and recovering the prestige of the past (chongzheng xiongfeng). Such scholarly works that interpret Shanghai’s domestic and street life are epitomised by Lu Hanchao’s Beyond the Neon Lights (1999). The depictions by writers and filmmakers of Shanghai’s traditional built environment have contributed significantly to the nostalgic recasting of haipai. The literary redemption of Shanghai’s shikumen has been featured in novels such as Wang Anyi’s The Song of Everlasting Sorrow, which is set in the same residential neighbourhoods that were being razed at the time of the book’s publication in 1995. Nostalgia also sparked renewed interest in famous Shanghainese writers and their works. For example, Eileen Chang’s characterisation of everyday urban landscapes and domestic interiors attracted increased attention following her death in 1995. Movies inspired by novels, such as Shanghai Triad directed by Zhang Yimou in 1995, or Lust, Caution by Ang Lee in 2007, among others, also evoked pre-1949 everyday life, setting standards for its recreation. Writing at the time when Xintiandi’s redevelopment project had reached completion, Lu (2002) analysed the impact of haipai-associated nostalgia in heritage designations, while also attending to the political objective of integrating the history of the leftist culture of the 1930s as being representative of Shanghai’s cultivated spirit. This objective motivated the listing of Duolun Road, thereby honouring leftist writers who were prominent in Shanghai’s heyday, like Lu Xun. Lu (2002) and Pan (2005) examined other influences extending beyond official listings and changes in the urban landscape in the late 1990s that were evident during preparations for the APEC Summit held in 2001. During this period, new themed bars, restaurants and businesses with a 1930s haipai orientation proliferated in the city. Xintiandi’s quest for authenticity The nostalgic narrative has been conspicuous in Xintiandi (Lu 2002), revealing how urban growth coalitions cherish the historical built environment as a symbol of civilisation and standing, promoting its conservation as the ideological legitimation of social and economic change (Ashworth & Kavaratzis 2011). Given its urban scale and the diversity of its cultural programmes, Xintiandi exemplifies the intertwining of the micro-narrative of nostalgia and the macro-narrative of modernisation in a highly effective way. The combination of place-making through urban regeneration and the provision of experiential museum spaces has particularly enduring effects (Pan 2005; Farrer 2010; Pan & Liu 2011; He & Gebhardt 2014; Law 2020). The authenticity of Xintiandi’s heritage has, however, been the subject of controversy. As Ruan Yisan, a leading scholar on Chinese heritage has argued, ‘Xintiandi makes use of historical factors, and we regard it as the original protection of a historical city, but in fact it is too far away from the original’i. Ruan’s insight reveals the disparity between the ‘default’, material-based notion of authenticity, and the established value-based definition that is applied in international and national recommendations (ICOMOS 1964; UNESCO 2011; ICOMOS China 2015). According to the latter definition, Xintiandi clearly lacks authenticity, which has been erased by the capitalisation and transformation into economic profit of shikumens’ social, cultural, historical and environmental values. Accounts of Xintiandi’s genesis reveal that the prime motive behind its endurance is political. Located in Shanghai’s central Taipingqiao area, this area includes the site of the First National Congress of the Communist Party of China (CPC site) held in 1921 in a small shikumen located at 76, Xingye Road. This site has been protected under the category of ‘Major Historical and Cultural Heritage’ at the national level since 1961 (Liang 2009). Its importance in the absence of the area’s protection was acknowledged in the master plan designed by Skidmore, Owings and Merril. In a preliminary design for redeveloping Xintiandi, the demolition of the environs of the CPC site was considered, and the building of a five-storey thematised commercial environment was suggested in its place (Wai 2006). However, the Shui On Group, as developer, hired Ben Wood as designer of Xintiandi and succeeded in convincing a key planning official in Luwan District of the value of the shikumen surrounding the CPC site. They did so with reference to the commercial, design and symbolic values of Quincy Market and the Inner Harbor in the United States (personal communication with Ben Wood, 31 January 2018).ii Designers and developers have adhered to a notion of authenticity that is touristic instead of heritage-based. Such a notion focuses on environmental and material aspects contributing to a high level of ‘verisimilitude’ that meets visitors’ authentication criteria (González Martínez 2019). Through the addition of a new wing of the museum extending towards the shikumen to the west, the State Administration of Cultural Relics augmented the political significance of the CPC site (Liang 2009). Further urban design decisions were aimed at preserving the historical atmosphere. Thus, Xingye Road and the opposite corner of the CPC site on South Huangpi Road have retained the façades of the historic buildings. Benefiting from their synergy with the CPC site, the two adjacent blocks north and south of Xingye Road became historicallyinspired, pedestrian precincts reserved for shopping and leisure activities (Lu 2002). The degrees of conservation in the two blocks were, however, highly uneven. Whereas the southern block was almost completely demolished, giving way to a new mall, the urban atmosphere of shikumen neighbourhoods was more faithfully recreated within the north block’s interior (González Martínez 2019). The developer defended the authenticity of Xintiandi’s heritage, alluding to the stereotypical imagination of a constantly evolving Asian architecture similar to what inspired the 1994 Nara Charter (personal communication with the Design Director of Shui On Group, 1 November 2015). However, we contend that the notion at play was a more superficial one inspired by tourism, whereby visual criteria were privileged in conservation decisions. According to Wang (2016), residents received generous compensation in contrast to other controversial relocation projects implemented in Taipingqiao (He & Wu 2005). After the homes were vacated, the Wood design team and the conservation team from Tongji University Design Institute focused intensively on surfaces and volumes. Brick walls along the shikumens’ perimeters were consolidated and interior wooden structures were demolished and replaced by new concrete structures, thus deviating from the traditional courtyard and bay typology. Designers added floor surface, increasing building heights in the perimeter of the two blocks, while applying volume restrictions to enhance visual perspectives. This visual verisimilitude served to authenticate the site’s narrative. This authentication takes place according to lived public experience, which is supported by tangible and intangible elements (Zhu 2015). The second strategy focuses on the materiality of the intervention, and it serves to authenticate this narrative of cosmopolitanism, tradition and cultivation. Wulixiang’s external appearance retains the characteristic grey and red bricks, together with ceramic tiles, the stone gate and the wooden elements of windows and balconies seen in other shikumen in Xintiandi. Wulixiang’s distinctive features are, however, apparent in its interior: whereas shikumen in Xintiandi were refurbished with reinforced concrete structures, apart from the above-mentioned gallery, Wulixiang’s structure, comprising pillars, floors and stairs, is wooden. Interior fittings, namely the structural elements plus the wall finishing, doors and other aesthetic appliances recreate the original appearance. Even though we were unable to confirm their material originality, this attention to detail conveys a powerful message of verisimilitude to visitors. The displayed collection and elements of interpretation: Explicit confirmation of the narrative Our analysis was based on site visits and the collection of data on museum items and interpretation materials: a brochure and an audio guide in Chinese and English. These information sources complement each other in supporting the nostalgic narrative. They are intended to depict the cosmopolitan character of an unknown Chinese family, which, according to the audio guide, originates from Ningbo, a commercial port in Zhejiang Province that preceded Shanghai as a trading centre prior to the Opium War. The display of personal objects and furniture matches the cosmopolitan background of the imagined homeowner, an employee of a foreign company, and of the children, who are receiving an international education at Western religious institutions. Significantly, the textual recount for the homeowner’s wife is absent. A careful mix of Chinese and Western objects is displayed in the core family spaces that are representative of Shanghai’s haipai style. They include an abacus, a typewriter and Western furniture arranged for playing a mah-jong game in the homeowner’s studio on the ground floor; the tea set and boudoir in the master bedroom upstairs; the Chinese qipao and the Western magazines in the daughter’s room; and an English dictionary, writing brushes, a paper kite and a violin in the son’s room. The connections to tradition build on the spatial hierarchical sequence discussed above, with the male homeowner and the elders located on the ground floor and the mother and children on the first floor. The display of photographs in rooms throughout the house is intended to illustrate the strength of family ties. However, the pictures are arranged carelessly and feature disparate people, not related to the site. The importance of family roots is evident in the elders’ room, which is furnished in a style reminiscent of Ningbo, the family laojia (native place). The kitchen space, which is accessible from the sitting room and from the northern façade, contains a traditional Chinese stove, lacking any modern cooking appliances. According to the audio guide, meals with a ‘healthy and simple Ningbo taste’ would be prepared here. The discourse of cultivation centres on the only two spaces that were reconfigured over the course of our visits. Originally the parlour maid’s room, the tingzijian held spatial and functional significance as a mezzanine space within the house that could be rented to impoverished tenants. The current display attaches special political significance to the tingzijian, obscuring its original use as the maid’s place. Notably, the tingzijian was rearranged during our last two visits. The positions of the bed and the desk were changed to incorporate a full presentation on the history of ‘Tingzijian literature’ mounted on the side wall. This text and the audio guide link the tingzijian to the creative genius of rising young stars of leftist Chinese culture like Lu Xun and to their political struggle against the repression of communism in Shanghai during the ‘White Terror’ in 1927. Figure 8. View of the tingzijian. Source: the author. The second space in the museum relating to cultivation is the art gallery, whose contents complement the domestic display. Next to the entrance is a screen on which a video of a promotional film on Xintiandi, produced in 2008 by the Shui On Group, is projected. The film narrates the story of Xintiandi, stressing its links with the origins of communism. The film begins with an image of Mao Zedong’s bust and the words ‘fine things never disappear’. This scene is followed by the depiction of various historical stages of the shikumen seen through the eyes of a young Shanghainese who discovers his roots in the neighbourhood. Apart from the running video, the room features an exhibition of the works of He Youzhi (1922–2016), an illustrator from Shanghai. He depicts scenes of daily life in the lilong streets, effectively conveying the daily hustle. Since we began visiting the site in October 2015, the exhibition contents have remained unchanged, notwithstanding variations in the layout made with no apparent purpose. Notably, according to early accounts of this space (Wai, 2006; Ren, 2008), it originally housed an architectural exhibition focusing on the shikumen, which appears in the 2008 promotional video. However, the moment when the exhibition content of this space shifted from architecture to illustrations remains unclear. Discussion Combs (1993, 28 cited in Tannock 1995, 455) argued that ‘nostalgia can be used for the political purpose of directing behaviour into approved roles, and politics into approved roles of power’, requiring a re-interpretation of history for the production of an authorized heritage discourse (Smith 2006). As Law (2020) and Law and Qin (2017) have argued, nostalgic narratives of modernisation legitimate economic and social changes in China. The 1930s, which marked Shanghai’s semi-colonial period, viewed as a ‘humiliation’ after the founding of the People’s Republic of China, have been discursively reappropriated and presented in terms of a harmonious historical transition that omits actual contentious and problematic histories (Law & Veldpaus 2017). Accordingly, the role of Xingye Road as the main cultural axis in Xintiandi needs to be highlighted, given that there was no recorded historical or political significance attached to the original Wulixiang shikumen. It was deliberately selected by the developer to complement the CPC site, given their physical proximity. Moreover, although Wulixiang is managed by the developer and the CPC site is managed by the state, governmental scrutiny of curatorial activities favours the harmonisation of Wulixiang’s content with that of the CCP site. Accordingly, as a conservation and curatorial project, Wulixiang would assumedly resolve the ‘startling juxtaposition’ (Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 1995, 371) of the modest memorial of the CPC site with the wealth of Xintiandi and the redevelopment of the surrounding Taipingqiao area. Our findings endorse Christensen’s (2011, 163) view that ‘material culture and nuanced family stories can indeed be an ideal venue for bridging the microscale with macroscale ideas relating to both the past and the present’. Offering a window to everyday life in the 1920s and 1930s, Wulixiang contributes to strengthening the narrative of the city’s unique connection with the origins of both capitalism and communism in China. Our study suggests that Wulixiang’s authorised heritage discourse builds on discourses of cosmopolitanism, tradition and cultivation. This discourse connects directly with domestic visitors’ personal experiences (Hodge & Baranek 2011), as the architecture and the exhibited objects ‘that are linked with the lives of families and individuals in the past have the potential to create connections between the past and present people’ (Bulger 2011, 140). Furthermore, the temporal proximity of the 1930s intensifies public engagement. As these objects belong to a relatively recent era, some local visitors may even recognise them, recalling them from their youth, thereby greatly facilitating Wulixiang’s authentication (Young 2007). As we have argued, since the 1990s, Shanghai’s nostalgic narrative has mainly centred on haipai cosmopolitanism. The architecture and the museum collection retrospectively validate Beck’s (2000) indices for cosmopolitanism. The recount evades any discussion of the imposition of cosmopolitanism by a semi-colonial regime. Presently curated in a sanitised display, the architecture and collection convey the formulation of a ‘philosophical cosmopolitanism’ that Beck (2016) suggests becomes a mere matter of choice; notably of consumerism. Wulixiang’s narratives of tradition and cultivation cater to the imaginaries of Xintiandi, the city and the state. Here, tradition refers to a focus on historical architecture that is promoted as a countermeasure against the recent wave of bizarre buildings in China (Flamer 2016) and as a means of recovering the moral virtues of Confucian family values, which have been actively promoted by central authorities in recent years. The absence of references to the homeowner’s wife is also noteworthy, implying a predominance of masculine roles and values. Although the museum portrays a modern home, the absence of modern cooking appliances is not startling, as the display provides an opportunity to highlight the family’s connection to its roots and the virtues of Chinese traditional cuisine. Cultivation refers to the celebration of leftist literary culture from the Republic years associated with the tingzijian. Despite references to struggles, clandestine political activity and prosecution, the portrayal of this literature connotes domesticity in a creative and countercultural way that appears almost bohemian. Wulixiang’s representations draw on popular and celebrated Shanghainese writers like Eileen Chang, who appeal to cultivated local middle-class and foreign visitors, who constitute Xindiandi’s clientele, thus transforming the local culture into a product of distinction. We now turn to an examination of the core issue of gentrification relating to the social values of the shikumen, which have been neglected in the architectural intervention, and their re-elaboration through the museum’s curation. The choice of the 1930s for the temporality of the display signifies a dismissal of the collectivisation era and a return to an idealised past when the shikumen were the undivided, private properties of wealthy, local, middle-class families. Here, it is important to highlight other implicit social messages embedded in Wulixiang’s narrative: class and gender issues are foregrounded in the supersedence of the lower-class figure of the housemaid with a feminine role by the male, politically engaged, cultivated writer whose symbolic aura is conspicuous. References to Ningbo, an affluent trading city located in the neighbouring province of Zhejiang, convey a preference for desirable migration origins that contributed to Shanghai’s prowess, while ignoring the flow of migrants from poorer, traditionally stigmatised regions like Subei into the city. These messages, transmitted via Wulixiang, sweeten the bitter taste of gentrification in Xintiandi, which, as in other parts of China, is a deliberate state policy (He 2007; Song 2010; Liu 2019). We argue that the introduction of counter-narratives focusing on memories of internal migrations within China would be convenient, as these memories may be recalled by local visitors, but remain unknown to foreign tourists. Even though these stories cannot substitute for the lost memories of the displaced populations, as in the case of New York’s Tenement Museum (Abram 2001; Christensen 2011), they can at least raise awareness of the considerable extent of social change in the wake of modernisation. Nevertheless, the topic of the struggles of migrant populations in urban China is clearly an awkward one to raise in Xintiandi, given the complexity of ethnic issues in China (Yan 2003; Anagnost 2004; Kipnis 2007). The substitution of the architectural show on the first floor gallery for He Youzhi’s scenes of simple daily life signifies the preponderance of official discourses of harmony over those of difference and conflict, and the educational role of heritage and culture in guiding citizens’ conduct. Conclusions The Wulixiang Shikumen Museum entails an assemblage of heritage conservation and curatorial strategies that have been deployed to present a nostalgic narrative of Shanghai’s modernisation in the 1930s. We contend that the apparent typological and material accuracy of the heritage conservation of the Wulixiang shikumen and the CPC site, which is exclusive to these sites within the Xintiandi redevelopment project, relies fundamentally on highly refined operations of heritage façadism and place-making. This attention to accuracy serves to validate Wulixiang as a tool for interpreting Shanghai’s past, thereby legitimating necessary transformations for ensuring the revival of the past in the future, with gentrification produced as a side effect. Our analysis further shows how Wulixiang conveys discourses such as tradition and cultivation that extend beyond Shanghai’s haipai style of cosmopolitanism, entailing a convergence of political and entrepreneurial goals in Xintiandi. Despite the reference to the traditional shikumen residential type in its name, Wulixiang appears to be a house museum rather than an architecture museum. This status is confirmed by the special emphasis on the display and interpretation of objects used in daily life and by the absence of architectural content in the exhibition and of references to the architectural conservation process. This focus offers the immediate advantage of connecting with the visitors’ personal experiences and avoiding the inherent distancing entailed in academic interpretations. The relative temporal proximity of the collection, dating to the 1930s, prompts visitors’ direct engagement, facilitating their comprehension of the discourse. However, the quest for verisimilitude constitutes a double-edged sword for heritage production. As Kirshenblatt-Gamblett (1995, 375) argued, ‘the call for realness requires that the interface, the means by which the representation is staged, be muted or concealed’. This concealment leads to reduced awareness of Wulixiang as a heritage assemblage; it is merely appreciated as a discoursive device, while other possible interpretations are obscured. We further contend that the overall nostalgic narrative not only draws on the conventional presentation of haipai culture but it also integrates an effective blend of cosmopolitanism, tradition and cultivation. The main characters depicted are members of a carefully selected family from the 1930s from desirable geographical origins, who exhibit a traditional family structure, sophisticated tastes and a comfortable economic situation. This model is the antithesis of Taipingqiao’s humble working-class population prior to its redevelopment. The authentication of this narrative based on upscale conservation criteria, the profusion of collected objects and the consistency of interpretation materials enables its immediate appropriation by visitors to Xintiandi, which is now one of Shanghai’s most heavily branded tourism and leisure destinations. Officially endorsed by the overseers of museum contents and catering to the developers’ entrepreneurial interests, this sanitised reconstruction of the past ultimately supports the developmental discourse of urban growth coalitions. Consequently, gentrification is legitimated as a side effect of the heritage redevelopment of urban areas, wherein selective nostalgic memories create a yearning for a future that matches the fabricated prestige of Shanghai in its heyday. Acknowledgements The author would like to thank the designers of Xintiandi, Mr. Ben Wood, head of Studio Shanghai, and Mr. Albert Chan, Design Director from the Shui On Group, for their time to conduct the interviews. 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Quincy Market is linked to the historic Sugar Act of 1764 that sparked the first act of rebellion at Faneuil Hall, eventually leading to the independence of the United States. The Inner Harbor is linked to the memory of Fort McHenry, revered in the US national anthem, The Star-Spangled Banner. Museums devoted to Quincy Market and the Inner Harbor that present history experientially to visitors clearly inspired the Xintiandi project. ! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ! View publication stats