For photographer Morris Lum, North America’s Chinatowns are in constant motion. Over the past decade, he has documented more than 20 of them, from Chicago to Winnipeg, capturing a mix of tradition, transformation, and loss. His new book brings these stories together, showing how commerce, culture, and community continue to evolve in these historic enclaves.
Change is visible everywhere in Lum’s photographs. Murals appear and vanish, menus adapt to new palates, and shopfronts are painted, faded, and replaced. Family-run businesses, once the backbone of Chinatowns, close under the weight of soaring rents or because the next generation chooses different paths. “That’s the life cycle of a Chinatown,” Lum explained.
The visual record is striking. In Philadelphia, a K-Beauty shop replaces a poké bar, reflecting the global rise of Korean beauty products. In other places, signage shifts from traditional to simplified Chinese characters, revealing new migration patterns from mainland China. Yet there is also decline: shuttered stores, graffiti-covered facades, and closures of long-standing institutions such as New York’s New Golden Fung Wong Bakery, which shut its doors in 2024 after more than 60 years, and Vancouver’s Ho Sun Hing Printers, which ended operations in 2014 after a century.
For Lum, the driving force behind many of these changes is gentrification. Historically rooted in central city locations near ports and downtown districts, Chinatowns now sit on some of the priciest real estate in North America. Independent businesses struggle with higher overheads, rising rents, and competition from chains. “Just the other day, a big sign went up saying a McDonald’s is coming in,” Lum said of Toronto’s Chinatown a vivid symbol of shifting dynamics.
The pandemic deepened these challenges. Lockdowns, mask mandates, and fears of anti-Asian sentiment emptied once-bustling streets. “The hustle and bustle I remember from when I was a kid was completely gone,” Lum said, describing how the “easiness” of dropping into familiar shops and restaurants disappeared almost overnight.
Lum’s fascination with Chinatowns is rooted in his own upbringing. Born in Trinidad and Tobago to a Chinese Trinidadian father and a Macanese mother, he immigrated to Canada in the late 1980s. Growing up in suburban Mississauga, his family turned to Toronto’s Chinatown not only for groceries but for cultural connection. “My parents craved that sense of familiarity that wasn’t really present in the suburbs,” he recalled. That personal sense of belonging continues to guide him, even in cities he’s never visited before.
Working with analog film, Lum takes a slow, deliberate approach. He begins by wandering with a simple point-and-shoot camera, returning later with a large-format camera for long exposures. Many of his photos highlight quiet traces of life: empty chairs around mahjong tables, altars freshly decorated with flowers, or closed shopfronts waiting to reopen. While his book focuses on architectural and commercial spaces, his wider archive includes portraits and casual moments with community members, which give him optimism for the future.
Despite closures and gentrification, Lum highlights examples of endurance: San Francisco’s Li Po Cocktails, Edmonton’s Lingnan restaurant, and Oakland’s Yuen Hop Noodle Company, all of which have survived for decades. Many young entrepreneurs, he notes, are also rediscovering Chinatown. “It brings them a sense of home,” Lum said. “But also, there’s this desire to build something new.
