Here’s a paradox to this posting.
I will actually jump from the fourth floor of a building, if:
… the building was on fire and there is a slide from the window to the ground where strong-built firemen were waiting to catch me :)
… the building I was in was at the scale of 1:10 (which would reduce the height from about 15m to 1.5m)
… I had with me a parasail (still can’t afford trying it in real life)
… I suddenly got the courage to bungee-jump
… by jumping and dying I will make my life statement (inspired by Coldplay’s Rush of Blood to the Head: “I’m gonna buy a gun and start a war … If you can tell me something worth fighting for …”)
What will you jump for?
Friday, September 29, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Will You Jump? … Lives on “Autopilot”
If I ask you to open the window on a fourth floor, go out, and jump – will you jump?
Mid term review in my architectural design studio. With 17 students presenting, similar patterns soon were becoming obvious: every single one of my students proposed their designs in the form of (mostly color-coded) boxes. Even now that I have to go over the images for grading purposes, I start to get confused which models belong to which student: they look that much alike (no offense to my students).
Yulia Lukito, a friend and a lecturer at Universitas Indonesia who came to be our guest critic for the day, wondered why students who had 17 different clients, 17 different studies and data could end up with very similar methods to represent their proposals. At some point she actually asked permission from one of the students to take the boxes apart, and crumpled them to make a point that the shape of these boxes are very confining as study models.
I started wondering how could this happenned. Then I remembered making a passing comment to one of my students about the way he represented his study which incorporated color-coded boxes. I told him that to be consistent, he should be using the same color-code in his future models so he could easily remember what that color represents. As it turned out, sixteen other students did exactly the same, when my point was about being consistent, not to specifically use color-coded boxes.
Upon reflection of the review, I asked my students: “If I ask you to open the window, go out, and jump, will you jump?” They all looked at me as if I had gone mad. But within a few seconds, some started to smile, and said “Of course not!” I asked them again “Why not?” Then one responded, “But we’ll die!” So now they’re thinking …
Here’s a quote:
Think! … Even when your life is not threatened by death.
Mid term review in my architectural design studio. With 17 students presenting, similar patterns soon were becoming obvious: every single one of my students proposed their designs in the form of (mostly color-coded) boxes. Even now that I have to go over the images for grading purposes, I start to get confused which models belong to which student: they look that much alike (no offense to my students).
Yulia Lukito, a friend and a lecturer at Universitas Indonesia who came to be our guest critic for the day, wondered why students who had 17 different clients, 17 different studies and data could end up with very similar methods to represent their proposals. At some point she actually asked permission from one of the students to take the boxes apart, and crumpled them to make a point that the shape of these boxes are very confining as study models.
I started wondering how could this happenned. Then I remembered making a passing comment to one of my students about the way he represented his study which incorporated color-coded boxes. I told him that to be consistent, he should be using the same color-code in his future models so he could easily remember what that color represents. As it turned out, sixteen other students did exactly the same, when my point was about being consistent, not to specifically use color-coded boxes.
Upon reflection of the review, I asked my students: “If I ask you to open the window, go out, and jump, will you jump?” They all looked at me as if I had gone mad. But within a few seconds, some started to smile, and said “Of course not!” I asked them again “Why not?” Then one responded, “But we’ll die!” So now they’re thinking …
Here’s a quote:
“Most people, most of the time, do not think of themselves as reflexively responding to complex signals and cues …, they mostly operate on ‘autopilot’. This socially skilled but unreflective reproduction of practices, norms, and values [are what Pierre] Bourdieu [a sociologist] refers to as the Doxa or ‘doxic experience’.
Simon Parker, “Urban Theory and the Urban Experience”, Routledge, 2004: 143.
Think! … Even when your life is not threatened by death.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Pride before Function
Yesterday’s Kompas featured several articles on consumption. One of the articles here noted that according to AC Nielsen study, 93% of Indonesian consumers are recreational shoppers, while “only” 68% of American society –known as consumer society – are recreational shoppers [1]. Consumption of goods contributed to 66.5% of Indonesian gross national production in 2004, and it increased to 74% in year 2005.
In another article here, Rhenald Kasali noted that in Indonesian society:
My sister Yenna, who is a branding consultant, calls this “Pride before Function”. The term “Form Follows Function” (a principal associated with modernism movement in architecture) means that function should be the foundation for design and therefore guide the resulting form. The term “Pride before Function” means that whatever form the design takes and however well the design functions are not as important as the pride and prestige that the design would bring to the owners.
Following the quotation above, Rhenald Kasali wrote:
Note
[1]. The article mentioned that AC Nielsen survey covered only consumers with access to internet, only 8% of Indonesian society.
In another article here, Rhenald Kasali noted that in Indonesian society:
Derajat seseorang dinilai berdasarkan apa yang Anda miliki atau apa yang Anda pakai. Untuk menunjukkan jati dirinya orang cenderung berbelanja berlebihan.This may explain similar attitude in design of houses in Indonesia, where consumption rules. If you wonder what I mean, all you need to do is to drive along upper housing complexes part of Pantai Indah Kapuk, Pondok Indah (the main avenue), or Lippo Karawaci and you’ll see houses that look like wedding cakes (the extremely elaborate one with curly icings), in more elaborate shapes and colors, but in a scale so huge you’ll start wondering how many families actually live there.
My sister Yenna, who is a branding consultant, calls this “Pride before Function”. The term “Form Follows Function” (a principal associated with modernism movement in architecture) means that function should be the foundation for design and therefore guide the resulting form. The term “Pride before Function” means that whatever form the design takes and however well the design functions are not as important as the pride and prestige that the design would bring to the owners.
Following the quotation above, Rhenald Kasali wrote:
Pretty scary, huh?Prinsip ini berbeda benar dengan upaya membangun karakter bangsa yang menekankan pada kekuatan jati diri, mulai dari kematangan berpikir, kerendahhatian, pendidikan, dan kepedulian sosialnya.
Note
[1]. The article mentioned that AC Nielsen survey covered only consumers with access to internet, only 8% of Indonesian society.
Libraries as Doors
A competition brief for City of Stockholm public library:
in this posting. In this case, the library is door-closers showing visitors only one way of learning and experiencing: you have to belong to the university and you must relinquish all your belongings to access it :)
“Libraries should be door-openers showing visitors new ways of learning and experiencing, as well as maintaining and reinforcing their own cultural capital in a variety of ways.” [Added italics].Contrast that with this comment from Raynata:
"... Have you gone the library now? Now we've to leave all our stuff in the locker... "
in this posting. In this case, the library is door-closers showing visitors only one way of learning and experiencing: you have to belong to the university and you must relinquish all your belongings to access it :)
A --> B =/= B --> A
A crop of an ad in Kompas: This is Jakarta!
Travelling time from point A to point B is often not equal from point B to point A. Look at the difference in time between weekdays and weekends!
Friday, September 22, 2006
Intuition to Dwell
Last term, I taught architectural design studio in which students were challenged to create personal space for themselves. Piece of cake, as we all have innate spatial ability as discussed in this previous posting – right? But as it turned out, not many students could create space that was in the least comfortable. I tried to go in and out of some of their constructions, and I could have broken or hurt my neck or other parts of my body if I weren’t mindful.
So why is it, while human ability to gauge and utilize space is innate, yet, most architectural students (at least those I’ve worked with) are having a hard time creating space?
Several possible reasons, but I’ll start with one: the lack of trust in the realm of our intuition. When we learn about a subject matter in university, suddenly the subject we’re interested in becomes a discipline with fields of “experts” that we consider know better about the discipline. The theories, lectures and discussions - some of which we may understand, but more often make us feel even more incompetent - overwhelmed our senses. The result is the lack of trust in what we see, what we feel, what we hear, what we touch, what we taste. We lose our intuition, our innate human ability, and belief in self.
That’s the reason why I am fascinated by construction of space created by traditional communities, by those living in adverse conditions, by those who adapted spaces and constructions of every day life to fit their needs. Through them, we are reminded why space is designed in the first place: to shelter and comfort our body. To be our third skin. Apart from that, these type of constructions are most likely constrained by available materials, by their surroundings (the site), and therefore attempt to create the most optimal solution for the problem.
The child in this photograph could have slept in many other places other than in the cart. Yet, the cart was the optimal solution for the problem. The cart raised the child’s body from the asphalt road – removed her from heated asphalt and dirt, from being accidentally trampled on, and from being awakened by animals that might have wondered by her. The cardboard box provided her with added cushion to support and comfort her sleeping body. And she can still be supervised by an adult who brought her there in the first place. The most optimal solution for taking a nap in public place.
A classic book in this topic is “Architecture without Architects” by Bernard Rudofsky.
So why is it, while human ability to gauge and utilize space is innate, yet, most architectural students (at least those I’ve worked with) are having a hard time creating space?
Several possible reasons, but I’ll start with one: the lack of trust in the realm of our intuition. When we learn about a subject matter in university, suddenly the subject we’re interested in becomes a discipline with fields of “experts” that we consider know better about the discipline. The theories, lectures and discussions - some of which we may understand, but more often make us feel even more incompetent - overwhelmed our senses. The result is the lack of trust in what we see, what we feel, what we hear, what we touch, what we taste. We lose our intuition, our innate human ability, and belief in self.
That’s the reason why I am fascinated by construction of space created by traditional communities, by those living in adverse conditions, by those who adapted spaces and constructions of every day life to fit their needs. Through them, we are reminded why space is designed in the first place: to shelter and comfort our body. To be our third skin. Apart from that, these type of constructions are most likely constrained by available materials, by their surroundings (the site), and therefore attempt to create the most optimal solution for the problem.
The child in this photograph could have slept in many other places other than in the cart. Yet, the cart was the optimal solution for the problem. The cart raised the child’s body from the asphalt road – removed her from heated asphalt and dirt, from being accidentally trampled on, and from being awakened by animals that might have wondered by her. The cardboard box provided her with added cushion to support and comfort her sleeping body. And she can still be supervised by an adult who brought her there in the first place. The most optimal solution for taking a nap in public place.
A classic book in this topic is “Architecture without Architects” by Bernard Rudofsky.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Does Design Matter?
I was struck by this photograph of a child published in Kompas (19 September 2006, p.3). She was sleeping in a cardboard box in a cart. And I thought to myself: how fit she was to the space she occupied. This photograph proves that the ability of human to gauge and utilize space is innate. Human also has high capacity to adapt. When we are tired, we will immediately scan our surrounding to look for places where we can sit: a chair, a step, a fallen pole, an upside down drum, a stone. And when we can’t find anything, the earth would do.It seems that our survival instict will enable us to adapt to any kind of spaces we are in. Under adverse condition, as in the case of the homeless, people will find a way out and think creatively – see here for another example.
And I wonder: does (architectural) design matter?
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Plan-less: Heaven for the Homeless
Adi Purnomo (a.k.a. Mamo), an architect who authored “Relativitas” and won numerous awards to say the least, asked me to collaborate with him to work on Shinkenchiku Residential Design Competition 2006. Below is my only contribution to the so-called collaboration, some parts were inspired by our discussions, while others are direct translations of Mamo’s writings. Image is courtesy of Mamo.
Scorching heat on undulating asphalts
Dirt and rocks, unfriendly concrete pavements
Passing cars and motorcycles: Be careful, these roads are not yours!
I am here!
Walking
Scanning every meters of the streets
Trying to find scraps of materials I can reuse
Shade: Cover my restless, dehydrated body from the tropical sun
Let me sit on your threshold
Let me lie under your canopy
Let me watch the world go by
Thinking: How could I feed myself today?
Water: Drench the crevices of my organs
Clear my spirit before my feet lead me on to other urban nooks and expanses
But spare me from your overflowing angst
I am a residue of a sprawling, rhizomatic Jakarta
I roam its spaces with my senses
I stop or turn, work or rest, sit or sleep, walk or run, whenever my feet tells me to
Whenever I am conditioned to
Whenever these spaces invite me to
The street lamps. Starless, smoggy night
Immortal fireflies composing a skyline
I am finally at peace with this metropolis
I roam its streets as free as a bird, soaring towards heaven
I am uprooted, but I am one with Jakarta
The universe is in my palm
My house is everywhere
My home is in my heart
Plan-less, as is my life
Monday, September 11, 2006
University Makes the Society
In this previous posting, I ranted about recent security measures taken by Universitas Pelita Harapan (UPH). So what is my problem?
When I think about the word university, I think of a place where learning is shared. According to Wikipedia:
Granted that UPH is a private university, but there are many private world-famous universities that share its facilities to the public. Even after 9/11, private universities in the US like Harvard and MIT still keep their doors open and unguarded. On my visit to these two institutions last October, I could stroll around the university compound, and entered some of their buildings and libraries without anyone asking me to show an ID. Even MIT’s relatively new Stata Building designed by Frank Gehry that housed the Computer, Information and Intelligence Sciences was very accessible down to its private offices.
The strictest entry I encountered was to Harvard’s Fine Arts Library. It was secured by metal detectors and security guards at entry points to check whether or not one belonged to the university. This security measures, however, was due to the library’s connection to Fogg Art Museum that showcased valuable art works. Even so, when I, as an outsider, wanted to go inside the library, all I had to do was to check in at the front desk to get a guest tag, and I was allowed to roam the library for the whole day.
UPH should aim to do as Kahn maintained:
Let’s not leave universities to resemble this excerpt from Wikipedia:
When I think about the word university, I think of a place where learning is shared. According to Wikipedia:
The word university is derived from the Latin universitas magistrorum et scholarium, roughly meaning "community of masters and scholars".The great architect/ philosopher Louis Kahn stated:
“School began with a man under a tree, who did not know he was a teacher, discussing his realizations with a few others, who did not know they were students. The students reflected on the exchanges between them and on how good it was to be in the presence of this man. They wished their sons, also, to listen to such a man. Soon, the needed spaces were erected and the first schools came into existence. The establishment of schools was inevitable because they are part of the desires of man.”Kahn, who designed Salk Institute (commissioned by Jonas Salk the inventor of polio vaccine), considered educational institutions as:
As a university, UPH by Kahn’s definition is also one of “the houses of inspirations”. Yet, by being such an exclusive, highly-secured compound on an already homogeneous Karawaci, what kind of inspiration does UPH seek to foster from its students, staff, and community? That university and its graduates should set themselves apart and away from the society?… “the houses of the inspirations” – places defined by the fundamental inspiration to learn and by concomitant need to shelter learning within a supportive community.”
Brownlee & De Long, “Louis I. Kahn, In the Realm of Architecture”, Rizzoli, New York, 1991: 94.
Granted that UPH is a private university, but there are many private world-famous universities that share its facilities to the public. Even after 9/11, private universities in the US like Harvard and MIT still keep their doors open and unguarded. On my visit to these two institutions last October, I could stroll around the university compound, and entered some of their buildings and libraries without anyone asking me to show an ID. Even MIT’s relatively new Stata Building designed by Frank Gehry that housed the Computer, Information and Intelligence Sciences was very accessible down to its private offices.
The strictest entry I encountered was to Harvard’s Fine Arts Library. It was secured by metal detectors and security guards at entry points to check whether or not one belonged to the university. This security measures, however, was due to the library’s connection to Fogg Art Museum that showcased valuable art works. Even so, when I, as an outsider, wanted to go inside the library, all I had to do was to check in at the front desk to get a guest tag, and I was allowed to roam the library for the whole day.
UPH should aim to do as Kahn maintained:
… Community making was also one of mankind’s – and the architect’s – chief responsibilities. … [He added:] “I don’t believe that society makes the man. I believe that man makes the society.”Likewise, university makes the society.
Brownlee & De Long, “Louis I. Kahn, In the Realm of Architecture”, Rizzoli, New York, 1991: 94.
Let’s not leave universities to resemble this excerpt from Wikipedia:
“Bill Readings contends in his 1995 study The University in Ruins that the university around the world has been hopelessly commodified by globalization and the bureaucratic non-value of "excellence." His view is that the university will continue to linger on as an increasingly consumerist, ruined institution until or unless we are able to conceive of advanced education in transnational ways that can move beyond both the national subject and the corporate enterprise.”
Sunday, September 10, 2006
When University Starts to Resemble Mall
In this past month, something has been bothering me every time I go to teach at Universitas Pelita Harapan (UPH). I knew it right away when it started: the beginning of the school year back in August. Prior to that time, whenever I drove my car into the designated parking area for staff and lecturers, a security guard would greet me and give me a parking card after he ensured that I had a pass to park in the area. But on that August morning, after the two-months break, I didn’t see just one guard, but another two who opened the doors and trunk of the cars queuing in front of mine.
Great, I thought to myself. The security checks had finally caught up with this university! But I didn’t put much thought into it, simply because we all had gotten so used to security checks in our ways around Jakarta. I got out of my car, and went through my usual route towards Building B, where the Department of Architecture was located. And there were two other security guards, standing in between the gates that separated the parking area from the university compound, checking bags of students who were walking ahead of me.
Fine, they wanted to do a comprehensive security check. Again, I didn’t put much thought into it because I was more concerned about getting into my studio and met my new students on the first day of school. After an introductory workshop, I went out of the compound to have lunch with other lecturers. And again, there stood two security guards in front of the gate, checking everyone’s bag. I asked my full time lecturer friend when they started doing the security checks at all entry points. My friend told me that it happened when UPH Festival was held about two weeks prior to beginning of school year.
Because I had borrowed some books from the library over the break, I decided to go there. Besides, I wanted to check out the library since it had been relocated into a new building. And there I saw the new building that had been scaffolded during its months of construction. The street level was almost completely open, and it had a big sign “FJ Square” on its front. I asked my friend again, what did FJ stand for? He had no idea. But apparently it’s the new food court.
What struck me most about this food court was its stark contrast with the old one they demolished about two years ago now. The old food court was an open air structure, with many stalls that were rented out, most were modest and sold food that was pretty affordable for students. But this new one was not like the old one. This food court could easily belong to any of the luxurious malls in Jakarta. The price, even after 25% discount for UPH students, was still rather expensive. Some of my students told me that they could not afford eating there. In August 2006 edition of Umbul-Umbul (Karawaci’s monthly complimentary magazine), I found out that FJ Square was modeled after the Food Junction in Singapore.
Because I had eaten lunch, I didn’t stop by the food court, and instead went straight to the library, which was located above the food court. I was told by my friend that as part of the new security system, all UPH students and staff had been required to possess a “smart card” which would let security guards quickly identify whether or not someone belong to the university. Now apparently, this “smart card’ was needed to enter the new library. Because I didn’t have one, I couldn’t even open the door of the new library!
As if having the “smart card” was not enough a security measure, there stood yet two other security guards in front of the door, ensuring that people with no “smart card” like me could not pass through the door by tailgating the person in front of me. After my friends ensured the security guards that I was indeed a lecturer there and I was asked to show my old library card, I was finally let in to the extremely luxurious library.
I said extremely luxurious, because the spaces between the aisle were around one meter or more. It’s fully air-conditioned, and here and there I saw genuine leather sofas that must had cost hundreds of millions of Rupiah to purchase! And when I walked towards the back of the library, the space was open, naturally lit, and had full horizontal windows opening to a view of rather undeveloped area of Karawaci.
But the very unfortunate fact was that the books I found remained the same unimpressive ones. Most of the architectural books were still the coffee-table books that you could typically purchase from book distributors, rather than those that you purchased in bookstores and through Amazon after you browsed through hundreds of them to determine which ones were of better qualities than the rest.
Done with checking the books, I decided to leave the library through the same doors that again were now guarded on the inside. I nodded confidently as I passed through the guards, and pushed the door in front of me. And I couldn’t open it! The guards started to surround me, which for some reason made me feel a bit panicked. They started asking me to use my “smart card”. So once again I gave them the same explanation that I gave to the two guards just outside to the right of the exit door. And they finally let me out.
On my way out of the university compound, I was struck by the unpleasant experience of the day. I kept thinking: Why would they not let anyone out from the library after they had ensured that whoever got in did belong to the university and had the right to be there? What would happen if there was fire and people were inside the library? Had the security of the university been breached over the break that made decision makers at UPH decide to intensify the level of security?
My experience at the university has started to resemble my experience in going through malls – and worse. I think a university shouldn’t be this way. But I couldn’t formulate what exactly is troubling me, except that I dislike the malls for this reason. But after having this issue at the back of my mind, found the least secured path into the university compound, and avoided going to the library for a little more than a month, I could finally pin point what the problem is. More on here.
Great, I thought to myself. The security checks had finally caught up with this university! But I didn’t put much thought into it, simply because we all had gotten so used to security checks in our ways around Jakarta. I got out of my car, and went through my usual route towards Building B, where the Department of Architecture was located. And there were two other security guards, standing in between the gates that separated the parking area from the university compound, checking bags of students who were walking ahead of me.
Fine, they wanted to do a comprehensive security check. Again, I didn’t put much thought into it because I was more concerned about getting into my studio and met my new students on the first day of school. After an introductory workshop, I went out of the compound to have lunch with other lecturers. And again, there stood two security guards in front of the gate, checking everyone’s bag. I asked my full time lecturer friend when they started doing the security checks at all entry points. My friend told me that it happened when UPH Festival was held about two weeks prior to beginning of school year.
Because I had borrowed some books from the library over the break, I decided to go there. Besides, I wanted to check out the library since it had been relocated into a new building. And there I saw the new building that had been scaffolded during its months of construction. The street level was almost completely open, and it had a big sign “FJ Square” on its front. I asked my friend again, what did FJ stand for? He had no idea. But apparently it’s the new food court.
What struck me most about this food court was its stark contrast with the old one they demolished about two years ago now. The old food court was an open air structure, with many stalls that were rented out, most were modest and sold food that was pretty affordable for students. But this new one was not like the old one. This food court could easily belong to any of the luxurious malls in Jakarta. The price, even after 25% discount for UPH students, was still rather expensive. Some of my students told me that they could not afford eating there. In August 2006 edition of Umbul-Umbul (Karawaci’s monthly complimentary magazine), I found out that FJ Square was modeled after the Food Junction in Singapore.
Because I had eaten lunch, I didn’t stop by the food court, and instead went straight to the library, which was located above the food court. I was told by my friend that as part of the new security system, all UPH students and staff had been required to possess a “smart card” which would let security guards quickly identify whether or not someone belong to the university. Now apparently, this “smart card’ was needed to enter the new library. Because I didn’t have one, I couldn’t even open the door of the new library!
As if having the “smart card” was not enough a security measure, there stood yet two other security guards in front of the door, ensuring that people with no “smart card” like me could not pass through the door by tailgating the person in front of me. After my friends ensured the security guards that I was indeed a lecturer there and I was asked to show my old library card, I was finally let in to the extremely luxurious library.
I said extremely luxurious, because the spaces between the aisle were around one meter or more. It’s fully air-conditioned, and here and there I saw genuine leather sofas that must had cost hundreds of millions of Rupiah to purchase! And when I walked towards the back of the library, the space was open, naturally lit, and had full horizontal windows opening to a view of rather undeveloped area of Karawaci.
But the very unfortunate fact was that the books I found remained the same unimpressive ones. Most of the architectural books were still the coffee-table books that you could typically purchase from book distributors, rather than those that you purchased in bookstores and through Amazon after you browsed through hundreds of them to determine which ones were of better qualities than the rest.
Done with checking the books, I decided to leave the library through the same doors that again were now guarded on the inside. I nodded confidently as I passed through the guards, and pushed the door in front of me. And I couldn’t open it! The guards started to surround me, which for some reason made me feel a bit panicked. They started asking me to use my “smart card”. So once again I gave them the same explanation that I gave to the two guards just outside to the right of the exit door. And they finally let me out.
On my way out of the university compound, I was struck by the unpleasant experience of the day. I kept thinking: Why would they not let anyone out from the library after they had ensured that whoever got in did belong to the university and had the right to be there? What would happen if there was fire and people were inside the library? Had the security of the university been breached over the break that made decision makers at UPH decide to intensify the level of security?
My experience at the university has started to resemble my experience in going through malls – and worse. I think a university shouldn’t be this way. But I couldn’t formulate what exactly is troubling me, except that I dislike the malls for this reason. But after having this issue at the back of my mind, found the least secured path into the university compound, and avoided going to the library for a little more than a month, I could finally pin point what the problem is. More on here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
