The elusive notion of placemaking is often cited to make projects seem more socially and culturally inclusive. Public projects that deploy this term are essentially meant to be integrated with the local communities because they are designed to be so. What then are the parameters that determine the community-oriented, activated qualities of such design? Are these quantifiable or immaterial? How can architects and designers account for a phenomenon that, by all accounts, seems to be ineffable? SHAU, an architecture and urban design studio with offices in the Netherlands, Germany and Indonesia, demonstrates the vital role collaborative placemaking can play in activating public spaces with their decade-long initiative of small-scale community architectures: Microlibraries.

Founded by Florian Heinzelmann and Daliana Suryawinata, the studio’s endeavour to design spaces for communal gathering—modelled after libraries and reading spaces—stemmed from the duo’s perception that there was a declining interest in reading in Indonesian culture. In attempting to address this concern, the architects envisioned pavilion-like cultural spaces that complemented public zones in cities by virtue of adding to the area’s social programming, as it were. In these small-scale buildings, the interdisciplinary practice accounts for the climatic conditions of the region with passive design techniques (using jaalis, shading devices and strategic orientation) along with formal elements that enhance a sense of place within the context each library is located in. The projects undertaken by the team so far—eight and counting—are simple enough designs, less than 200 square metres and defined by their distinctive facades.

Most interventions, as envisioned by the architects, are meant to become inserts within dense urban landscapes, especially in underprivileged areas such as urban villages or low-income neighbourhoods. The Microlibraries are a paradigm of SHAU’s belief in the reciprocal relationship between climate and human interaction, which they didactically dub ‘socio-climatic architecture’. Each combines the social aspects of architecture along with the performance-related aspects of design to ensure a sense of comfort within the built environment. Vitally, the projects also address the growing interest in public design and facilities in the city of Bandung, with the former architect-turned-mayor, Ridwan Kamil. Each project undertaken by SHAU operates in the larger scheme of the initiative that makes public spaces more functional, thus operating at the intersection of architecture and urbanism.

The structures, small-scale in nature but immense in social impact, exemplify SHAU’s larger design philosophies, which adhere to sustainability, sociability and contextuality. Over the years, the team has garnered several accolades for the careful, cost-efficient interventions. In 2018, the team won the Holcim Award for one of the designs in the initiative, and have been recently shortlisted for this year’s cycle of the Aga Khan Awards. On this occasion, STIR spoke to the architect duo behind the sustainability-oriented practice about the origins, design processes and futures for Microlibraries. Excerpts from the perceptive conversation follow.

Mrinmayee Bhoot: What was the initial motive in using libraries as urban inserts into public spaces?  How has this project evolved over time?

Florian Heinzelmann: The initiative started when we presented a pitch to an executive from Pocket for the Poor. The intention with the Microlibraries was always to intervene within kampongs, or small-scale urban settlements. These are highly dense, low-rise settlements where each building has a very small footprint. These were the areas we wanted to cater to.

We always thought of them as an insertion, a form of urban acupuncture, and never as standalone structures. The idea was always to create an architecture that facilitates participation in public life, creating a threshold that’s easy for people to interact with. The infrastructure we envisioned was far less intimidating than a larger city library or cultural space. Over time, we have deployed these within larger urban design strategies as well.

They have evolved not just as reading spaces, but also as places for children to play and locals to gather. For instance, in the structures that we designed in parks around Indonesia, we’ve seen requests from librarians who want to sell coffee in the space. And it depends on who’s managing the library – a local youth organisation from a local neighbourhood which is not so affluent, or students. It made us realise that we needed to include some sort of commercial aspects to the project as well, perhaps.

Mrinmayee: You mention that once constructed, neighbourhood users and local youth organisations help run the libraries. Are they also consulted during the design process?

Daliana Suryawinata: The process of designing the Microlibraries is intrinsically informed by stakeholder relationships. As SHAU, we act as both architects and initiators. It is only later that funders get involved – these could be organisations, foundations, companies, or, at times, the local government. We procure land from the local government for every project, and once the project is complete, the building becomes the city’s property. Lastly, we have the community, the youth organisations and the users. Once we’ve determined the site, we speak to the locals. We try to assess their needs, the site’s potential and what services the surroundings are lacking. Users provide programmatic inputs, while we translate these into design. That’s where the major collaboration happens. Once it has been constructed, we continue to receive a lot of input, even now, as we remain in touch with the communities and organisations.

Mrinmayee: Building on the idea that these are very contextual responses to social conditions and economic restraints—especially since you are the main initiators—I was also curious to understand the process for site selection.

Florian: As Daliana mentioned, in most cases, we collaborate with the city or government bodies. In these scenarios, the municipality gives us the land. In the case of foundations or companies, they sponsor us via their CSR programme. At the end of the day, the library is meant to be donated to the city.

The design process, of course, is a constant negotiation with the conditions of the urban landscape. We make it a point to evaluate the sites before selecting. Sometimes, we are certain of some urban pockets as potential sites because they offer better possibilities for the library through exposure to the neighbourhood. For example, we had a CSR funder in Bandung for a specific site, and they wanted to have the library very close to their office. However, this office was located in a very well-off neighbourhood with a lot of middle- and high-income households, which we felt would diminish the social impact of the design by not being available to a wider population, regardless of class. It’s very often a negotiation process where we actively scout for sites and give our own input as well.

Mrinmayee: The design of each Microlibrary is quite distinctive, wherein each feels like a particular response to its site. Could you elaborate on contextual considerations during design, along with how they manifest formally and materially?

Florian: Going back to the beginning, with our first project, Bima Microlibrary, both aspects of the design—the material and the form, which is elevated on stilts—arose out of its particular context. In terms of materiality, the facade was built from reused plastic cups and ice cream buckets. We were scouting around the neighbourhood, and many stores were selling scooter spare parts. We were interested in the jerrycans, the plastic canisters for gasoline, and thought it could be a novel facade material. But then we realised, it's a bit too flimsy and not enough of them were available with vendors for us to reuse. Instead, we decided to recycle ice cream buckets.

With the Warak Kayu one, the materiality was developed by the clients for the project, the Arkatama Isvara Foundation. They have a strong relationship with PT Kayu Lapis Indonesia, a company that manufactures integrated wood products, including a lot of plywood and finger-joint laminates. It was clear that the clients wanted us to do a library in timber. With each of the library designs, we ask what the possibilities are: What can we do? What is the capacity of the local craftsmen?

To give another example, in Jogjakarta, brick is a common building material. We thought we could engage with the local neighbourhoods by using these half-round shingles for the facade. In this process, we also aim to boost local economies by hiring local contractors and workers. We want to create opportunities for the locals through initiatives that will benefit them.

Daliana: In a way, having a budget [between $50,000 - $150,000] for each public building also means they have to be constructed without too much effort. This is especially true when a project is embedded within a larger government scheme, such as the one in Jogjakarta. There are always some limitations, hence the structures we create are simple. The effort is spent in perfecting the details and materials with the contractor and the local workers.

The first Microlibrary was where the house on stilts prototype originated. When we visited the site, we found a derelict stage in the middle of the plaza, and we chose not to demolish it, but to build on it. The design was fairly simple, we added steps and thought it would be nice to have a volume on top of the stage so it can be used. This means there are functions taking place under the library, as well as within. This house-on-stilts morphology has become a rather successful model, and we’ve implemented similar forms for other projects as well, like the one in Semarang and also the one in Jogjakarta.

To a degree, the Microlibrary in Bandung, Hanging Gardens is not necessarily the same form as the previous ‘house-on-stilts’ models. We essentially stacked different volumes on top of each other. So, they become like terraced landscapes. And in this case, the library is located on the ground level, while the roof is covered in vegetation, so it’s usable for community gardening.

Florian: The other prevalent prototypes we work with are the ones that are mostly sitting on the ground, which are located in parks. But the idea of creating structures on stilts was also a way to address working in dense contexts. We realised if we positioned them on the ground, we would take away part of the programme. By having elevated buildings, we generate space underneath, which provides shade and protection from rain. It was only later that we realised this form was a reinterpretation of vernacular architecture in the region, the rumah panggung. Our design did not set out to update the traditional typology, but was very much born out of necessity.

Mrinmayee: You’ve mentioned previously that some of the construction techniques for the libraries are ways to prototype innovative materials or techniques for other projects. Have any of these been implemented in your larger commissions? What was the process of scaling up like?

Florian: Both of us were working in the Netherlands before we came to Indonesia, and this vernacular design was always one of our interests in a way. However, for us, it was a little bit of a learning, unlearning, and relearning process because if you come from the Global North, there’s a tendency to rely on technological solutions or to approach a problem through more technology-reliant techniques. This was harder to do in Southeast Asia.

When we were students, the buzzword was ‘file-to-factory’ (in reference to advanced fabrication methods), while in the context of the Global South, we had to shift to a ‘file-to-craft’ methodology. We do rely on parametric design for the formal language. The Bima Microlibrary has a coded message in the facade, and the Warak Kayu one had a certain complexity to it in terms of the corner details. But, the central question is: how do you make with contextual parameters and economic restrictions in mind, while also ensuring there are no inaccuracies?

In our work, we’ve tried to combine a digital design process with local craftsmanship. At the same time, we’re also mindful of the performative aspects of the project, in terms of microclimate, so we employ strategies that ensure shading, cross ventilation, and so on. All these learnings have afforded a much better understanding of the local context and inform our standard architectural interventions. For instance, right now, we’re working on the Rumah Budaya Indonesia Kaya in Jakarta, which is a large-scale cultural architecture project.

Daliana: The Microlibraries have always been a site of experimentation for us. There’s a lot you can do at a small scale that you cannot translate to a larger project, with the need to adhere to regulations and building codes. There’s one project I’m thinking of, which we worked on in East Java, where we used a banner-like material like a screen. Unfortunately, the intervention was temporary. However, we revisited the material for a commercial building we’re working on in Bandung.

Mrinmayee: You also mention that you envision Microlibraries in other parts of Asia/the Global South. In what ways do you imagine expanding beyond Indonesia? Are you already working on any such schemes?

Daliana: Of course, the question is, which part of Southeast Asia can we implement such Microlibraries in? I don’t think they’d be feasible in Singapore, because the context is so different. Singapore does not need small libraries; they already have a good system of reading facilities. But other places like Vietnam, Thailand, and parts of Malaysia, I would say, would be feasible.

We're actually in conversation with a community in Ho Chi Minh City. They have a street project that they're interested in implementing a Microlibrary in. But we're still figuring out how to work outside Indonesia, because I think that we need to definitely engage local partners to be able to completely understand the context – the ways of working, and definitely the micro social values that the place has. We’re also continuing to design these structures in Indonesia. So right now, we're working on an all-accessible Microlibrary.