William S. W. Lim
Photo courtesy of William Lim.
Years ago, at an international conference on modern architecture held in Chandigarh, an Italian professor of architecture remarked matter-of-factly, “So you know William Lim,” upon hearing that I am from Singapore. This association of Singapore’s architecture with William Lim (1932-2023) is one that I would encounter repeatedly in subsequent years. In the West, the mainstream architectural discourse tends to associate a non-West country with one or two prominent architects and the oeuvres of those architects would stand in for the type of architectural excellence in these countries. For example, Hassan Fathy characterised Egypt, Luis Barragan embodied Mexico, Geoffrey Bawa exemplified Sri Lanka, Charles Correa or Balkrishna Doshi stands for India, and Ken Yeang represents Malaysia. Such a convenient form of representation has, however, been criticised for reducing the architectural complexity of a country to a stereotype and marginalising other forms of architecture in the country. Fortunately, in the case of Singapore, we have William Lim, someone whose oeuvre is too complex and wide-ranging to defy any easy stereotyping.
A letter head of Malayan Architects Co-partnership. Source: Photo from the archives taken by Jiat-Hwee Chang.
Born in Hong Kong in 1932, William Lim Siew Wai was educated at the Architectural Association and Harvard University in the 1950s. After completing his studies, Lim returned to Singapore in the decolonising days of 1957 to embark on his architectural career. In a long and successful career that spans more than four decades, beginning at around the time when Singapore attained self-government, Lim’s journey could be said to mirror the post-independence architectural history of Singapore. He was always at the vanguard of architectural changes in the small cosmopolitan nation-state. After a short stint with the British expatriate firm James Ferrie & Partners, he established Malayan Architects Co-Partnership with his fellow returnees from British architectural schools Lim Chong Keat and Chen Voon Fee in 1960. The firm’s name reflected its egalitarian organisation, which was inspired by some of the most progressive practices in the mid-twentieth century, such the Architect’s Co-partnership in United Kingdom and The Architect’s Collaborative in the United States. Malayan Architects Co-Partnership produced some of the best modern architecture in Singapore during the 1960s, most notably the post-independence masterpiece Singapore Conference Hall and Trade Union House. Officially opened in 1965, the year that Singapore became independent, the competition winning scheme represents an innovative attempt at adapting the modern idiom of overlapping planes, interlocking spaces and the interplay between mass and void, shadow and light, to the social and climatic conditions of Singapore. Furthermore, as William says, it is also a “form follows function” building that was based on a rigorous analysis of the programme and the prudent use of the limited budget.
William Lim and Tay Kheng Soon, taken at a dialogue with William Lim at the URA in May 2015 by Jiat-Hwee Chang.
Due to differences between the partners, Malayan Architects Co-partnership was dissolved in 1967. After the breakup, Lim formed Design Partnership with Tay Kheng Soon and Koh Seow Chuan. If the Malayan Architects Co-partnership is known for its modernist innovations, Design Partnership is lauded for introducing “Brutalism” to the region. Key buildings from produced by Design Partnership include the People’s Park Complex (1972) and Golden Mile Complex (formerly known as Woh Hup Complex) (1974). These two buildings – the earliest built examples of the large scale mix-use development in Singapore – were noted not only for their expressive sculptural forms but also for their planning. Unlike the American shopping malls, it was not the anchor tenant that dictated the layout of the shops in the podium blocks of the two complexes. Rather, Lim says that it was “the little guys who mattered” and the viability of the small shops that determined the layout. These considerations led to the designs that deviated from the typical dumbbell shape configuration and unidirectional circulation of the American malls. For example, in the People’s Park Complex, there are multiple entrances that extend the multi-directional street circulation patterns into the building. Unsurprisingly, parallels were drawn between People’s Park Complex and the interconnected “City Room” proposed by Fumihiko Maki and the Metabolist Group in Japan.
A rear view of Unit 8. Photograph by Darren Soh.
In the mid 1970s, as Design Partnership was restructured into DP Architects with the departure of Tay Kheng Soon, Lim began to become disenchanted with modernism, especially its complicity with corporate capitalism, and started to experiment with postmodernism. Lim tells me that he was interested in “socio-political postmodernism” and not in “kitschy” architectural postmodernism. In a series of buildings, particularly St. Andrew’s Junior College and Chapel (1978) Ken Thai House (1979) and Unit 8 (1984), he experimented with the fragmentation of the plan, the layering of spaces and the rotation of structural and organisational grids. Lim tells me that these experiments were about “disrupting the hierarchy” and power-structure implied in the modernist plan. They later developed into a series of riotously colourful and spatially fragmented postmodern projects, such as the Church of Our Saviour (1987), Tampines North Community Centre (1989), Marine Parade Community Building (2000) and the Gallery Hotel (2001). These buildings were all completed after Lim had left DP Architects and formed William Lim Associates in 1982. Perhaps echoing the pluralistic eclecticism of postmodernity, Lim’s works since the 1980s were not restricted to the aforementioned postmodern projects. The other equally significant trajectory Lim pursued was what he described as “contemporary vernacular”. It is characterised by the selective incorporation of vernacular architectural influences, be they colonial, Chinese or Southeast Asian, into the postmodern idiom to create hybrid forms that layered the past and the present, the local and the global. Lim’s “contemporary vernacular” is best exemplified by the Reuter’s House (1990) and it is probably linked to his advocacy of heritage conservation that began in the early 1980s. In 1983, Lim together with the local playwright Dr Goh Poh Seng and a group of prominent individuals from the banking, telecommunication and tourism sectors put together Bu Ye Tian (不夜天), a proposal for the conservation of two row of shophouses at Boat Quay. At that time, the shophouses seemed destined for demolition under another urban renewal project. But the proposal to turn the area into a commercially-feasible cultural centre was reported on the front pages of Singapore’s major newspapers in May 1983 and appeared to have changed the public perception toward the derelict shophouses. That subsequently led to the conservation and adaptive reuse of these and other shophouses in Singapore.
Tampines North Community Centre (1989). Source: National Archive of Singapore.
Lim’s reputation was not limited to the influence of the landmark buildings that he designed. Lim is also a very prolific writer, especially after he retired from active practice in 2002. He has authored 13 books, edited 2 volumes and published numerous articles. In these writing spanning more than four decades, Lim covers a wide range of topics, from professional discourse on urban planning and architecture to broader socio-cultural reflection on modernity, social justice and cultural identity. Like his architecture, Lim draws liberally from diverse influences, from the urban theories of Kevin Lynch, to the postmodern theories of Jean-François Lyotard, to the postcolonial theories of Edward Said, to the political economic theories of David Harvey. Although a rarity among architects, the breadth of Lim’s writing is perhaps not surprising given his sustained engagements with regional and international intellectuals since the 1950s. For example in the 1960s, Lim initiated the Singapore Planning and Urban Research Group with a group of architects, planners and academicians to independently study and critique the problems of Singapore’s urban development. Later in the 1970s, together with key regional social activists and intellectuals such as Indonesia’s Soedjatmoko, Thailand’s Sulak Sivaraksa, Philippines’ Randolf David, and Malaysia’s Lim Teck Gee, Lim formed the Southeast Asia Study Group, which he describes as the “first non-governmental intellectual group in Southeast Asia.” Lim also led the formation of Asian Planning and Architectural Collaboration (APAC) with Koichi Nagashima and the team included Sumet Jumsai, Tao Ho, Charles Correa and Fumihiko Maki.
Bu Ye Tian proposal (1983).
Few architects straddle between designing and writing as Lim does. Even more uncommon is it for anyone to excel in both areas like him. Lim, who has not held any long term academic job before, tells me that he juggled between practice and research by explicitly setting aside thirty percent of his time for lecturing and writing when he formed Design Partnership. Thinking that building and writing, theory and practice must have shaped each other in interesting ways, I ask Lim about the relationship between his two spheres of activities. I am surprised when he tells me that “seldom are they directly connected.” Lim laments he has not been able to obtain many public commissions. For many years, his designs were confined to private and commercial projects. Thus, Lim was unable to fully test his theories and design philosophies, which were largely concerned with public, especially the poor. According to Lim, the Singapore state was not receptive towards public opinions and suggestions on its urban planning policies. Not only were the non-governmental groups excluded from the state’s public policy-making processes, Lim tells me some of the members of these groups were even harassed by the state. Although the Singapore state has shifted to a more participatory form of governance in the past two decades or so, Lim remains at the margin of state’s policy-making apparatuses. Despite being widely celebrated overseas for his accomplishments through, for example, the conferral of honorary doctorate by Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology and Guest Professorship appointment by Tianjin University, Lim notes that he has never received “any governmental or institutional decoration” in Singapore.
Edward Said noted in his Reith Lectures that the public intellectual occupies a liminal position in relation to state and society, always questioning the status quo, disturbing the dominant power structure and expanding knowledge. One could say that Lim operates in a similar way. As Leon van Schaik notes, Lim “allows no easy relaxation into the comforts of power.” In his architecture and writings, Lim is always experimenting and improvising, working against aesthetical conventions, questioning socio-political norms and pushing cultural boundaries. Unlike some other social critics, Lim has never been fully absorbed into the establishment and his critical voice has never been blunted by any affiliations with state institutions.
Originally published as Chang Jiat Hwee, “A Man for All Seasons,” Habitus 5 (2009): 80-87. Revised on 7 January 2023.
