Passion and Purpose

Selamat hari, Danny! Nice to e-meet you again! How has the pandemic been treating you and your studio, studiodasar?

Hai Patrick! Thank you for reaching out to me for this interview. 

It has been a tough year for all of us! My studio has spent most of last year and this year working from home to lower the risks and effects of the pandemic. It affects our productivity a bit, but so far it’s working quite okay, considering the circumstances we are in. 

How has studiodasar changed amidst the pandemic? How have your clients and design priorities changed?

The way we coordinated projects with our clients, colleagues, and suppliers definitely changed. Online sessions and coordinating through internal messaging apps became the norm for us this year. I’m trying my utmost to keep my small team together, and not lay anyone off. 

In terms of clients, the new ones we’ve managed to gain during the pandemic are now more stringent when it comes to good hygiene and the health-related aspects of a house or a building. There are requests to make houses with more open areas and spaces to work. We are also suggesting the inclusion of isolation rooms or preparing spaces to function as one, in the eventuality of another pandemic. 

At the moment, my studio is also working with a small city outside Java Island to design their urban development masterplan. We are integrating much of the pandemic response ideas we’ve implemented in our other projects in a community-scale here; pandemics are inevitable, but one can plan ahead and be prepared.

Your various pursuits beyond your studio reveal a designer that is very much concerned with the bigger picture of Indonesian architecture; years ago, for example, you co-founded the free architecture magazine jongArsitek! for fellow architects to learn and get featured. What pushed you towards this journey of service for the field of Indonesian architecture?

jongArsitek! was a publication that I made together with three other friends: Paskalis Khrisnoayodyantoro, Noerhadi, and Rafael Arsono. Along the way, during our six-year run, we grew to become a small collective of 30 young architects that collaborated on organizing architectural exhibitions, events, and public lectures. At one point, we were able to invite Rem Koolhaas to give a free public lecture in Jakarta!

Our efforts were a reaction to the situation that we faced during those times. Around the first decade of the 2000s, there aren’t that many architectural happenings in Indonesia. Many architects were focused on working and building. We were young at the time, and we thought, we need to move the discourse, to give it a jolt. It was then that my colleagues and I decided to put out an online publication so that young architects have a platform to speak their minds and showcase their designs. We promoted the role of the “architectural curator,” which at that time was a novel idea.

We also organized several architectural exhibitions, because, again, there aren’t that many local architectural exhibitions being made. At the time, we wanted to hear and learn from international architects but there were little efforts to get them to give lectures here. Our collective extended an invitation to several international architects for speaking engagements and we were able to bring in Rem Koolhaas (OMA) and Julien de Smedt (JDS Architects) for lectures. Through the Indonesian Institute of Architects (IAI), I was able to invite Tatiana Bilbao and MVRDV’s Winy Maas. We just felt restless, raring to drive a more vibrant discourse on architecture!

You are no stranger to curating and helming exhibitions: You helmed Indonesia’s pavilion at the London Design Biennale back in 2016; what were your insights on how foreigners view Indonesian architecture? What do they usually get wrong and right? Was your pavilion concept also a response to such preconceived notions?

I used to say “Indonesian architecture is known for being unknown” hahaha! This I think is normal. It is the logical consequence of our absence in global architectural discourse during the 70s-2000s. A lot of outsiders still aren’t aware Indonesia has been putting out ‘modern architecture’ so when they see a good contemporary design by an Indonesian architect, they are caught off-guard. They are more familiar with the ethnic architecture that Indonesia is known for.

Freedome, the Indonesian pavilion at the London Design Biennale 2016, was a pavilion that tells an alternate history of an important global historical event, that of The Asian-African Conference in 1955, which Indonesia initiated and hosted in Bandung. I was co-curator, along with Hermawan Tanzil, Diana Nazir and Hafiz Rancajale. Hermawan and Diana are designers and Hafiz is an art curator. The pavilion itself is a cross between art and design, an installation that was a representation of the 29 countries who participated in this landmark event and the ten-point declaration of peace, humanity, equality, and independence stipulated in the Bandung Charter.

It can be said that our pavilion is a direct response to how outsiders perceive our architecture. We wanted to showcase the contemporary minds of Indonesian designers and artists, and the products of their work. We think it’s time Indonesia is represented by its contemporary art and design intellectuals rather than past glories. 

Do you think Indonesian architecture is adequately covered and written about in online and physical publications? You have mentioned in a previous interview finding that 90% of architectural literature available to Indonesian architects is in English, which is a bane in a country with low English proficiency. Any recent developments and efforts to improve this situation?

I think there’s definitely more coverage about Indonesian architecture in the media today, compared to several years ago. More Indonesian architects are active in forging connections with international publications and communicating their works and ideas to the editors and writers. So, in terms of general publication, there’s definitely an improvement. What I think is lacking at the moment are critical publications about Indonesian architecture, a more in-depth publication of Indonesian architects and architecture that seeks to drive discourse beyond just show and tell, and into developing new ideas and design solutions to our ever-changing needs and issues.

I think the situation regarding the language percentage of available architectural literature in Indonesia is still relatively the same. It is still dominated by English language literature. I don’t think that will change anytime soon. In terms of improving this situation, several of my friends and I started the Scriptura Initiative. We launched this initiative last year. Our goal is to translate good and influential design books that were originally published in English and other languages, to Bahasa Indonesia. We work with five local publishers, an event organizer, and several companies to gather up funding for this initiative. The pandemic halted our efforts last year. We hope this year we can restart our work towards our goal of providing our architects and architectural students good architectural literature in our mother tongue.

The subject of whether Philippine architecture exists is a controversial one here in the Philippines; are architects in Indonesia just as absorbed with discerning a national architectural identity for an archipelago with a plethora of indigenous cultural expressions? In this day and age of widespread globalization, is this still a cause worth pursuing? 

I think these days the discussion about a singular identity for Indonesian architecture is less talked about, rather than ten years ago or several decades in the past. It was once a very big topic to be discussed.

In the case of our country, I think there are several different reasons in different eras why the discourse on a national architectural identity periodically resurfaces. The first time it arose was after our country gained its independence, during the term of our first president, Soekarno. At the time, the goal was to have a neutral architectural identity, one that can represent the new nation without bias to any one of Indonesia’s myriad ethnic groups. As a fledgling state whose existence was anchored by the unity of the diverse indigenous cultures that called the world’s largest archipelago home, this was necessary.

In the ’80s and ’90s during the New Order regime, this topic came about because there were so many buildings and houses being built in Indonesian cities that copied foreign styles: from the Mediterranean style, even neoclassical and suburban American house styles! There was a sense of urgency to address this issue within this period as this was also the time more Indonesian architects finally have the chance to build. It was also in this period where the fundamentals of contemporary architectural education in Indonesia were being shaped. The New Order regime was also the time when we started to make more high-rise buildings. It is a building typology wholly unknown in the indigenous architectural tradition, a novel concept. I think it was natural to try and find what “Indonesia” meant and looked at this situation. It necessitated a new, modern identity, an evolution of their ethnic identity.

After that, in the early 2000s up to the early 2010s, it was more about architectural exploration amongst Indonesian architects. I think there was less urgency felt in the national identity discourse. These days, younger Indonesian architects have more global exposure; the interests and priorities in designing are also way different now than those who worked decades ago. 

Is this a cause still worth pursuing? I personally think it shouldn’t be about the pursuit to find a singular identity. Rather it should be about finding ways to create high-quality spaces that can be made using whatever resources we have in our immediate context, finding architectural solutions that can increase our collective quality of life, and obtaining knowledge and data that can aid us to understand the intricacies of our present existence, so we can plan for a better future. 

What I noticed during my visits to Indonesia is the wealth of architectural expression and experimentation the architects there are ready to do in order to meet program requirements and their own partis. Naturally, not all of the designs will succeed, but such is the reality with experimentation anyways. How are attitudes towards architectural criticism in Indonesia?

Your observation is quite correct. Architectural experimentation is ripe in Indonesia, with many architects doing different things, depending on the influences that they are receiving.

Architectural criticism is not too common here in Indonesia. We don’t have many active or serious architectural critics. In that regard, we also need good critics. Ones that can offer different perspectives in perceiving architecture, as well as pose questions and points to ponder to drive both discourse and the continuing narrative of Indonesian architecture.

Would you say that the present architectural curriculums in Indonesia are turning out well-equipped architects? What works and what can be improved?

The architectural curriculum in Indonesia is a complex topic.

But what I can say is, I think everyone who is involved in the making of the curriculum is trying their hardest to create one that can produce professionals equipped with adequate architectural knowledge, so that they can use their learnings for the collective good.

However, there are a lot of aspects in the present curriculum that can still be improved. For example, one suggestion that I think can help shape the curriculum so as to turn out professionals with a holistic grasp on how to better quality of life through spaces, is by adding another purpose and new career paths out of it. It is imperative that we produce a healthy and productive architectural ecosystem that can keep the field vibrant and ingrained with a fervent desire to keep improving itself. This architectural ecosystem consists of architectural discourse, architectural design, and architectural journalism.

This broadens people’s perception of our field and also creates graduates who can become architectural critics (to expand discourse and possibilities in architecture) and editors and writers, who are equipped to create and write for architectural titles. This move opens the profession to an expansion of its horizons which cannot be achieved if we just focus on creating graduates that can design and build. 

I notice a lot of the camaraderie and support fellow Indonesian architects offer each other in various situations, a refreshing thing to see in a field that is also fraught with competition; why do you think this is so in Indonesia?

This is a situation that I’m also grateful to have here in Indonesia. I’ve been told by some of my foreign friends that this is quite a unique situation. I personally credit this to our predecessors, who nurtured this culture of camaraderie beyond competition. They always stressed the importance of maintaining good relationships and deriving mutual respect towards other architects. It isn’t strange for some local architects to actually refer their friends if they feel a commission can be better handled by them. They set a great example that is worth emulating, something I hope our next generation of architects can maintain.

Of all the things you’ve done in service of Indonesian architecture, what achievements are you proudest of? Why?

I think it was when I was accepted as a member of CICA (International Committee of Architectural Critics). Knowing that everything I have done to that day was recognized and regarded by a highly respected international institution elicits both pride and a sense of reward, especially coming from a country that is quite alienated from the global architectural discourse. It is confirmation that what I have done so far for my profession is heading in the right direction. 

Pandemic notwithstanding, what does the future of Indonesian architecture look like to you? What do you think must be done to make that future a reality?

The future of Indonesian architecture will not only be determined by developments in the big cities now.

There is a growing trend amongst the younger generation to leave the big cities and live in smaller, quieter ones. During this pandemic, city dwellers got a glimpse of how life outside of big cities looks and feels like. I think many will try to look for alternatives to maintain this lifestyle.

In the near future, I think we will also see cities that are better designed. This will happen first with small cities because they still have bigger land areas with a relatively small population living in them. They will have learned from the mistakes that current Indonesian cities have made in the past 50 years, and create better urban developments for the future generation of Indonesians.  To bring us closer to this reality, we need more Indonesian architects who can ‘balance’ the way they run their practices by being reminded of how their chosen profession, beyond the financial profit, can yield spaces that improve our collective quality of life. If more architects adopt such a mindset, we can influence policymakers to start creating better policies in our goal to realize a better future for the next generation. •