The Story Scavenger
Wang Mengxi
“Who are you? Where are you from?"
“I am a documentary filmmaker and the author of this photojournalistic series. I grew up in a northern Chinese city and later went to Japan to study journalism. I worked as a TV reporter in Tokyo for several years. In 2022, I moved from Japan to New York, where I have lived for nearly two years.
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“Looking back, before I came to New York, I lived in Japan as a foreigner, and I unconsciously tried to adapt to the local culture. Over time, I noticed an unsettling shift: I had gradually lost much of my Chinese identity. My habits, my mindset—they all began to align with Japanese culture. For instance, I’d carefully dress in monochromatic tones to avoid standing out. I spoke Japanese with an effort to hide any ‘Chinese accent.’ And in the workplace, where superiors were often easily deified, I too became just another cog in the hierarchical society. In those nine years, my life was serious and strange until I realized my sense of self was gradually fading away. That’s why I decided it was time to leave Japan for a while.
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“When I first arrived in New York, I was struck by how proud New Yorkers were of their cultural roots. The city was filled with people speaking in their natural accents. Those lively and humorous accents were like clothing for language, and for the first time, I felt the joy of speaking a language freely.”
“I can never forget the complex emotions I felt the first time I arrived in Manhattan’s Chinatown. It was filled with chaos and melancholy, yet it constantly reminded me of the environment we, the children of the ’80s, grew up in—an industrial city immigrants flocked to. Hot air mixed with artificial scents blew from barbershops; people spoke loudly, as if they were mid-argument. I stood near a wet market on Canal Street, surrounded by the salty stench of seafood, and felt a bit of shame at the messiness of Chinatown, yet I also felt deeply moved by the strong vitality around me.
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“In recent years, mainland China has changed at a rapid pace. Year after year, the industrial presence in northern cities has gradually diminished, while the service industry has transformed them into something more refined yet unfamiliar. Walking down Mott Street feels like stepping back into a small town from 20 or 30 years ago. Immigrants who came to New York in the early 1960s now sport heads of white hair. They stand in their yards wearing vests, telling me stories from half a century ago. I thought to myself, surely here, I can find the parts of myself that I have lost during my years abroad.
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“Agnès Varda, one of my favorite French documentary filmmakers, once said that documentaries are a form of ‘salvaging.’ I think I’m doing the same—scavenging conversations and stories in Chinatown that may otherwise be easily overlooked or gradually forgotten. That’s what drives me to tell these stories.”
"Why document Chinatown?"
“How did you meet the people in your book? Are their stories real?”
“Chinatown has many faces. There’s the warm human side, but also a side marked by crime and squalor. I wanted to avoid clichés and collective representations, instead getting straight to the individuals. That’s why I gave each person their own spotlight, both in words and on camera. I only had one core selection criterion, which was my curiosity. Is their profession interesting? Do their conversations spark my curiosity? Every observation and every conversation on the street was a chance encounter.
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“This is a documentary series, and all the people and stories in it are real. As I wrote, I deliberately included my own perspective, using subjective descriptions to enhance the reader’s connection with the characters. Likewise, in filming, I use reenactments to recreate certain scenes, like how the writer reenacts the technique of speed-recording on his arm in the basement of a gang from the old days. I believe this approach doesn’t conflict with the truth.”
“When I first came to New York, I was shocked to see people jaywalking together. This sight left a huge impression on me and, at the same time, secretly inspired me. In New York, I gradually learned how to ‘break the rules’ in just the right way, and to my surprise, this rule-breaking mindset greatly benefited my creative process. Ironically, the first lesson I learned years ago in Tokyo was all about ‘following the rules.’
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“In the past, when I wrote scripts for television, I was always striving for perfection, forcing my work to fit into a strict framework of guidelines. This pursuit of perfection stifled spontaneity and obscured authenticity. So, for this documentary series, I decided to take a different approach to the filming and writing: the first step is to set a rule, and the second is to break it.
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“The transition from the first chapter, The Human Touch, to the last chapter, Migration and the Future, is a gradual shift from the surface level to the abstract. This design is intentional, and I want to guide readers through a linear progression. But of course, you, the reader, can break the rules. You might flip open to a random page on a Sunday afternoon, read ‘Confessions of a Graffiti Kid,’ and then flip back a few pages to dive into ‘The Last Cheese Artisan.’ Perhaps this random reading order will give you an entirely new perspective on Chinatown.”
“Is living in New York interesting? Does it influence your creative work?”
“Why 32 people, not 33 or 64?”
“The number is random, but it has real significance. This was my first rule: the number of people I interviewed between August 2022, when I began filming in Chinatown, and the last person I spoke with before leaving New York. And after including myself, the number turned out to be 32. I didn’t need to add or subtract anyone. It’s a true record of how many stories I collected during my two years in Chinatown.”