Hong Kong Tong Lau: Inside Noii Art House

We’re peeking inside some of Hong Kong’s last remaining tong laus to see how they embody Hong Kong’s past — as well as its creative present.

Beyond the bustle of Sham Shui Po’s busy street markets stands 170 Yee Kuk Street, home to Noii Art House, emerging amid a cluster of taller, more modern structures. Its iconic ivory-white façade is hard to miss, with its distinct red slogans advertising the now-defunct Yick Ping Factory framing services — selling products such as picture frames and mounting calligraphy and paintings.

The structure is a tong lau dating back to the 1920s, built at a time when space was already as precious as it is today. By government definition, a tong lau — literally a “Chinese building” (唐樓 tong4 lau2) — is a building designed for multiple tenants or sub-tenants; each reflects the architectural language and lived realities of its era.

The Yee Kuk Street building where Noii is housed belongs to the third generation of tong laus: reinforced concrete structures typically limited to four storeys, derived from old southern Chinese shophouses and shaped by Hong Kong’s colonial-era building codes. Its pre-war verandah design and generous windows were intended to improve ventilation and light — features that remain today.

The importance of tong laus in Hong Kong’s history and communities comes down to their rarity. “Although once ubiquitous, there are very few tong laus left today,” says Cecilia Chu, associate professor in the School of Architecture at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK). In the early colonial period, tong lau quickly accommodated Chinese labourers; unlike single-occupancy European houses, colonial regulations permitted their subdivision, making them adaptable for working-class families and profitable for landlords.

The power of fate

In the sweltering heat, Isaac Fok descends a narrow staircase inside the building. Fok is the co-founder of Noii and he is preparing for an upcoming exhibition. He lifts a large wooden ladder from the weathered green-and-white tiled floor. As we take in the layered history of the space, he offers us a can of ice-cold soda water to brave the early summer heat.

“It’s a cliché, but fate brought us here. Family friends recommended this place to us,” begins Fok. He and his partner, Bethany Man, are co-founders of Noii. Though both come from fine arts backgrounds, they did not originally plan to open an art space. But after graduating from the Chinese University of Hong Kong, they were looking for a nearby studio where they could continue their artistic practice. “We didn’t want to be somewhere cold like in a white cube or dark in a factory building, but somewhere more lively,” says Fok.

That possibility emerged through an unexpected connection. The landlord — the son of Yick Ping founder Suen Chi-kun — proved open and supportive of their vision. With that backing, the couple founded the space in 2025. Today, it rents for HK$500 per day, operating as an accessible, experimental platform for emerging artists.

This ethos is reflected in its name. Noii is a play on the Chinese name 不二 (bat1 ji6): translated into English, it combines the word “no” with the Roman numeral for two. The reference gestures towards non-duality, a concept of interconnectedness rooted in Eastern philosophies such as Buddhism. “Collectively, we may work in different media, but ultimately we share the same aim — to make art,” says Man.

In a city where making money often takes precedence over anything else, the couple chose a different approach. While many of their peers entered into more commercial routes like working in galleries after graduation, Fok and Man set out to create a space for artists across disciplines — one that hosts a diverse range of events from exhibitions and screenings to talks and performances. In this sense, Noii is not simply a venue, but an attempt to hold space for creative exchange that nurtures cross-pollination and learning from one another. 

This sense of learning and connection is deeply rooted in Sham Shui Po itself, with its many longstanding family-owned businesses. Fok’s affinity to the area has deepened the longer he has been there. “I feel part of the kaifong [community] and something special,” he says, as his face shines with passion. “This neighbourhood has taught me so much.”

Old setting, new solutions

The future of the remaining tong laus in Hong Kong’s older districts depends on strengthening policy frameworks to protect them, as the current Antiquities and Monuments Office grading system is not set up to necessarily prevent them from demolition. It also means embracing adaptive reuse that treats them as valuable resources and ensuring they serve real community needs rather than becoming exclusive, high‑end spaces.

That’s where Noii serves as an example. Running the space requires a careful balance between preservation and practicality. The biggest challenge so far has been managing the realities of an aging tong lau. Many of these buildings were constructed with blue Canton bricks, which are more porous than the denser and more expensive red bricks. The walls are thus still prone to water seepage and persistent dampness — issues that often spread between closely packed neighbouring units and force tenants to rely heavily on air conditioning to keep conditions tolerable. 

As a result, the co-founders have adapted, carving out a home for their art space. Apart from the floor tiles and windows, Fok notes that most of the interior was built or assembled by them. Hidden behind hollow layering, the original eight-foot-high doorway — including an entrance door and the window above it — was carefully repaired and cleaned, while a new stage was constructed at the far end of the space. “We aren’t simply creating art here,” says Man with a chuckle. 

To bring the art space further to life, various cultural institutions Parallel Space and Para Site donated furniture like wooden benches, seat mats and chairs. There are also pieces from the studio of the late, renowned self-taught artist Ha Bik-chuen and 1930, a now-defunct pre-war building in Prince Edward formerly known for film screenings. 

Layered realities

Noii is a reminder that art can be approachable and rooted in everyday life. “Sometimes I go to the woodwork shops to buy materials for repairs, and the owners ask why I’m running an art space,” Fok says. Often, the assumption is that art is exclusive or distant. In reality, “it carries a human touch — something that can be understood over a drink like coffee or milk tea.” 

A few key shows embody what Man and Fok have set out to do. In Starry Nights: An Exhibition on the 90s LGBT Culture in Hong Kong, visitors were able to learn about the city’s queer history and the different faces that make up the local community. We Woman Cut! — the Printmakers Connected was a woodcut print exhibition that built community through accessible workshops with housewives from Sham Shui Po; there were diverse activities held alongside the show like miso-making and karaoke, which created an interactive setting between visitors and artists from Taiwan and China. 

Apart from holding exhibitions for creatives and the community, both co-founders plan to host their own shows in the future. Starting in July, Fok will lead different programmes exploring old Hong Kong beyond dim sum and stereotypes — including bamboo building workshops, screenings and cooking with Sham Shui Po neighbours. “I find it important for us as the young generation to know where we came from in this age of technical acceleration and not stop at the surface, but to embody tradition through practice,” he says.

Man will focus on themes resonating with younger generations — particularly building self-strength through traditional paper crafting (扎作 zaat3 zok3), bamboo scaffolding and the history of used objects like found furniture. Her material-led practice centres on the lived experiences through different pieces, grounding Hong Kong’s heritage in everyday materiality and intergenerational memory. Something similar is happening at Noii. The city’s past is being reframed through a space and objects that preserve continuity — while inviting new possibilities for cultural resonance.