Jakarta: Models of Collective Space for the Extended Metropolis

Felipe Correa / Clayton Strange

Jakarta: Models of Collective Space for the Extended Metropolis

Spring 2016

Studio Report

Felipe Correa / Clayton Strange

Jakarta: Models of Collective Space for the Extended Metropolis

Jakarta: Models of Collective Space for the Extended Metropolis In a manner similar to other megacities in Southeast Asia, Jakarta has witnessed unprecedented metropolitan growth over the last 50 years. Defined as Jabodetabek— including the cities and regencies of Jakarta, Bogor, Tangerang, Bekasi, and Depok—this region covers more than 6,000 square kilometers, defining one of the largest conurbations across the globe. Not surprisingly, the area’s physical and social infrastructures have failed to keep pace with this rapid urbanization. Yet, the introduction of the Jakarta Mass Transit System (MRT) and the implementation of its first metro line, currently under construction, could help address these deficiencies. The first two phases of the MRT, which promise to consolidate a north–south high-density corridor through Jakarta proper, could catalyze novel and diverse notions of urban collective space.

This advanced option studio examines mass transit infrastructure in a context of extreme rapid urbanization as a driver for new models of collective space. Focusing on the metro station, these investigations explore how a mixed programmatic brief paired with a precise design intervention can redefine the broader urban landscape.

Instructors Felipe Correa Clayton Strange Teaching Assistant Devin Dobrowolski Collaborators Meric Ozgen Trax Wang Students Andrew Boyd, Devin Dobrowolski, Sama El-Saket, Cannon Ivers, Mark JongmanSereno, Renia Kagkou, Michael Keller, Xinhui Li, Thomas Nideröst, Gaby San Roman de Bustinza, Max Sell, John Wray IV, Ting Yin Final Review Critics Iñaki Alday, Lorena Bello, Ila Berman, Anita Berrizbeitia, Joan Busquets, Sean Chiao, Ridwan Kamil, Evangelos Kotsioris, Jesse LeCavalier, Nancy Lin, Mohsen Mostafavi, Carles Muro, Sibarani Sofian Mid-term Review Critics Anita Berrizbeitia, Carles Muro, Peter Rowe, Andres Sevtsuk

Title

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Preface Mohsen Mostafavi

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Introduction Felipe Correa

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UNIT 01 Agricultural Transformation Max Sell and John Wray IV

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An Ideal Alluvial Flux: Agricultural Transformation in the Development of Jakarta Clayton Strange

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Project: The Sudirman Six Max Sell and John Wray IV

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UNIT 02 Following Flows: The Linear City Devin Dobrowolski, Cannon Ivers, and Thomas Nideröst

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54

69

74

The Possibilities for a Linear Urbanism in Jakarta Lorena Bello Project: Framing the Banjir Kanal Transect Andrew Boyd and Michael Keller UNIT 03 Kota Tua Historic Core Devin Dobrowolski and Thomas Nideröst

New Old City: A Third Model of Development for Jakarta Devin Dobrowolski

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Project: Kota Baru Devin Dobrowolski and Thomas Nideröst

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UNIT 04 Water Infrastructure Andrew Boyd and Michael Keller

102

Flooded with Redundancy Jesse LeCavalier

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Project: From Boundary to Border Sama El-Saket and Renia Kagkou

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UNIT 05 Water and Subsidence Mark Jongman-Sereno and Renia Kagkou

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Boring Wells in Jakarta Anthony Acciavatti

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Project: Collective MetaStructures Cannon Ivers and Mark Jongman-Sereno

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140

UNIT 06 Grids and Grains: Linear Fragmentation Xinhui Li and Gaby San Roman de Bustinza

Public Space in a Polycentric Metropolis Andres Sevtsuk

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Project: Collective Form —Beyond Geometry Xinhui Li and Ting Yin

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UNIT 07 Type and Collective Function: Key Urban Developments Sama El-Saket and Ting Yin

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Jakarta as Method: Shopping Malls, Streets, and Mosques Christina Leigh Geros

Project: Nested Symbiotic Platform Gaby San Roman de Bustinza

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Contributors

Jakarta is one of the exciting emerging capitals of Asia. Whereas a city-state like Singapore exudes order, Jakarta appears as a metropolis in a constant state of chaos. Characterized by the hustle and bustle of people and cars, noise and smells, it seems to extend indefinitely and in all directions. The dynamic atmosphere of the sprawling city is further enhanced by the ethnic diversity of, among others, its Javanese, Malay, Chinese, Arab, and Indian population.

The incredible range and combination of cultures, habits, and tastes all find expression in the city’s cuisine.

All this energy and activity is what makes the massive city of Jakarta so exciting, but at the same time frustrating, since it can take hours to travel relatively short distances. That is why it is imperative for the city and its citizens to explore new ideas in relation to urban infrastructure and, more broadly, the processes of urbanization.

An exploration of the reciprocities between these conditions was at the core of the option studio conducted by Felipe Correa and Clayton Strange. This option studio is part of a threeyear investigation into the emergent conditions

Mohsen Mostafavi

of urbanization in Asia. Subsequent studios will focus on Kuala Lumpur and Manila.

The impetus for this work has been fueled by the expertise and knowledge of our research sponsors AECOM. The leadership of this project by Sean Chiao has been indispensable, as has the commitment by Nancy Lin and other AECOM colleagues.

The work of the students and their commitment to engaging in this productive adventure is inspirational. Many thanks to Felipe, Clayton, and Devin Dobrowlski for their contribution to the making of this valuable report.

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Preface

The view of the Jakarta skyline, when seen from an airplane window on approach to SoekarnoHatta International Airport, is quite deceiving.

From above one perceives an expansive metropolis that extends from coast to mountain, crowned by large towers scattered amidst a field of low-rise construction and overscaled roads. On a clear night and from far away, one observes Jakarta as a burgeoning city of lights that has found its economic north in a post-desakota era.1 Only the experience from the ground reveals an urban landscape divided by a very broad social cleft. The view from the street exposes two seemingly irreconcilable cities—one driven by towers and commercial plinths that accommodate the aspirations of a constantly expanding middle class; the other, which represents the larger part of its dwellers, defined by formerly agricultural villages that have consolidated into self-built neighborhoods varying drastically in quality and provision of services. Gates, security checkpoints, elevators, and sky lobbies separate these two worlds, with very little common ground between them.

Through the privatization of collective space in

Felipe Correa

new developments, the street—and public space at large—has lost the capacity to unite these two urban realities. As AbdouMaliq Simone reminds us in Jakarta: Drawing the City Near (2014), “the growth of a new middle class has been linked to a move that attempts to depoliticize Indonesian society in part by moving a great deal of this working out of the everyday life away from the street.”2 Today, as the city charts its vision for the 21st century, it must revisit the relationship between collective space and society.

In a manner similar to other megacities in Southeast Asia (Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, Manila), Jakarta has witnessed an unprecedented metropolitan growth throughout the last 50 years. A settlement tracing back to the 14th century that served as a port city to the Javanese kingdom of Pajajaran, Jakarta originated as a collection of villages developing along various forms of linear infrastructure with a blurred distinction between urban and rural life. Today, the Jakarta megaregion is a burgeoning economy with a population of approximately 30 million people. This major metropolitan region defined as Jabodetabek—including the cities and

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Introduction

ventions informed by the studio’s preliminary research, the material presented in this volume provides a constellation of new physical and experiential identities that can curate alternative forms of urbanity beyond the village and the ubiquitous global capital enclave.

In addition to providing a broad array of urban strategies for Jakarta, this design studio offered a number of important pedagogical lessons to the 13 students that took part in the project. Of the many lessons learned, three seem to be the most salient. First, the studio introduced students to frameworks and techniques that allowed them to represent the city at a multiplicity of scales in order to establish clear relationships among the parts and pieces that comprise Jakarta’s urban morphology.

Such a comprehensive cartographic exercise allowed the students to visualize the relationship between abstract urban systems (i.e., mobility flows) and the specific geometries and dimensions these systems inscribe in the city.

Second, the studio exposed students to the rich instrumental and methodological diversity that architecture and design at large bring to the city.

By testing design hypotheses across many conditions and geographies within Jakarta, students were able to understand how design interventions of diverse scope and ambition can respond to the city both as singular urban projects and as part of a larger urban plan. The design hypotheses also allowed students to explore how a specific design project can serve as a testing ground for larger urban models, which can then be applied in other similar contexts within the city. Third, the studio helped students understand the limits of “systemic thinking”—so prominent today in design pedagogy—in the context of a city composed primarily of discontinuous parts. Furthermore, the studio explored how design projects, through the synthesis of form, can help better articulate discrete and, in many cases, conflicting urban parts.

The lessons explored throughout the semester appear in this report. Organized in topical units, this publication documents seven urban hypotheses for the city. Oscillating between applied research and specific design projects, each hypothesis presents a specific take on the urbanisms of Jakarta. Furthermore, each unit contains an essay by a contributing author.

These texts expand on the issues explored in the analysis and the design projects.

Unit 01, Agricultural Transformation, examines the city’s gradual evolution from agricultural villages into a larger metropolitan area.

Paired with this unit is the Sudirman Six project,

Introduction

16

regencies of Jakarta, Bogor, Tangerang, Bekasi, and Depok—covers more than 6,000 square kilometers, defining one of the largest conurbations across the globe. Today, old geographies of linearized development and traditionalized notions of the enclave have been subsumed by the generalized absorption of the countryside into the urban fold through the prolific emergence of the desakota. Prewar urban fragments, from Dutch colonial aggregations to H. P. Berlage’s 1931 Plan to once-rural villages, have all become mere specks in an endless canvas of urban s and densities. 3 In the past five decades, the arrival of global capital and its affiliated models of urban development have given new clothing to old modes and geographies of social and infrastructural inequity stemming from the city’s colonial history. The process of rapid eradication of kampungs (villages) and sawahs (rice paddies) to accommodate large-scale global enclaves has paid little attention to the parallel development of public works projects that can effectively facilitate this unprecedented scale of urban development. This has resulted in two key phenomena in the city. On the one hand, a growing conflict has emerged between what anthropologist Clifford Geertz has labeled as the “bazaar economy” and the “firm-centered economy,” where the latter is constantly threatening the former.4 On the other hand, extreme privatization of land paired with limited investment in public works programs has resulted in physical and social infrastructure that cannot keep up with the current pace of urbanization.

The introduction of the Jakarta Mass Rapid Transit (MRT) system and the implementation of its first metro line (currently under construction) is an unprecedented investment in mobility infrastructure for the city and could possibly help reverse this trend. The first two phases of the MRT, which promise to consolidate a north– south high-density corridor through Jakarta proper, can serve as catalysts for new urban models that can diversify notions of collective space in the city.

This volume documents an advanced option studio, held at the Harvard University Graduate School of Design and sponsored by AECOM, that examines how the construction of Jakarta’s first metro line can serve as the point of departure for a much larger and ambitious set of urban projects. Furthermore, the work argues that such an unprecedented investment in public works can prompt the conception of new models of urban life that hinge on novel forms and notions of collective space. Through precise design inter-

Form—Beyond Geometry shows how a basic metro-station prototype, combined with other programs and mobility infrastructure, can help mitigate this fragmentation.

Unit 07, Type and Collective Function: Key Urban Developments, visualizes the city’s most dominant architectural types throughout the last century and how these are distributed throughout the city. Within this context, the project Nested Symbiotic Platform reinterprets the bus station and market to propose a new hybrid building that accommodates these two programs along with a shared open space, while providing a better connection to the new metro.

The applied research, text, and design proposals documented in this volume in no way present a prescribed set of principles for the future of the city. On the contrary, these ideas are meant as a point of departure for a more informed and structured debate about the urban future of Jakarta, the successful completion of the metro line, and the conception of new and much-needed collective spaces that can help mitigate the effects of unchecked, capital-driven urban development.

1. Desakota is an urban process first defined

by Norton McGee and T. G. Ginsburg in 1991 that focuses on how domestic and local forces empower rural-to-urban transformation in Southeast Asia. The term comes from Indonesian, merging the terms desa for village and kota for city. For additional information on desakota, see Norton Ginsburg, Bruce Koppel, and T. G. McGee, The Extended Metropolis: Settlement Transition in Asia (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1991).

2. AbdouMaliq Simone, Jakarta: Drawing the City Near (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2014), 10.

3. For a comprehensive overview of Jakarta’s urban development, see Christopher Silver, Planning the Megacity: Jakarta in the Twentieth Century (New York: Routledge, 2008).

4. Clifford Geertz, “The Bazaar Economy: Information and Search in Peasant Marketing,” The American Economic Review 68, no. 2, Papers and Proceedings of the Ninetieth Annual Meeting of the American Economic Association (1978): 28–32.

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Felipe Correa

which examines how village roads can be incorporated into Jakarta’s larger road structure to better distribute large-scale mobility circulation.

Unit 02, Following Flows: The Linear City, exposes Jakarta’s time-honored tradition of linear urbanization connecting the coast to the highlands. This urban model, prominent throughout Java, has intensified in the Jakarta metropolitan area due to the importance of the port. Paired with the linear city research is the Framing the Banjir Kanal Transect project.

This proposal argues for intermodality as the antidote to the monofunctional linear corridor.

Furthermore, the project brings a new scale of open scape and urban development to the site through the incorporation of a mixed programmatic brief, capitalizing on the air rights above the rescaled geometries of the linear corridor.

Unit 03, Kota Tua Historic Core, brings to the surface the values of the Dutch colonial city.

By examining both building typologies and block morphologies within the district, the research presents a clear framework for the area’s conservation. In addition, the Kota Baru project provides clear procedures on how the historic core could be restructured in a way that goes beyond the restoration of facades and brings a new economic base to the old town.

Unit 04, Water Infrastructure, visualizes the complex network of hydrological infrastructure that makes up the Jakarta metropolitan region. In doing so, it highlights the variety of infrastructural scales that are part of the larger water management system. The research also shows how water infrastructure, primarily canals and waterways, could be integrated with the mobility network in order to alleviate traffic in select corridors. The project From Boundary to Border shows how canals could be rescaled and transformed into new social and recreational amenities for the city.

Unit 05, Water and Subsidence, focuses on how groundwater extraction paired with new tower construction is causing the city to gradually sink due to subsidence. Furthermore, the project Collective Meta-Structures explores how a new development that capitalizes on shared hydrological infrastructure can open a new scale of collective space in the city.

Unit 06, Grids and Grains: Linear Fragmentation, explores the discontinuity of the Jakarta city fabric due to its reliance on major corridors rather than on a distributed grid. The research highlights how certain corridors in the city carry most of the traffic regardless of distance and speed.

Complementary to this, the project Collective

Cikarang Industrial Zone

Tangerang Industrial Zone

Depok Industrial Zone

Agricultural / Residual Space Kampung / Developed Land Industrial Zone Regional Rail Primary Road Depok Industrial Zone

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River / Canal

Agricultural / Residual Space Kampung / Developed Land Industrial Zone Regional Rail Primary Road River / Canal

1983 Kampungs and Development: A 1983 map of the Jakarta metro region shows the city’s outward growth. The development of industrial zones along the periphery, and commercial and financial activity along the spine, exacerbated the fragmentation of agricultural land and villages.

UNIT 01 Max Sell John Wray IV

Like many Southeast Asian cities, Jakarta experienced an unprecedented growth in the second half of the 20th century, radically transforming the economic and social fabric of the region. Following many years of colonial occupation by the Dutch, the newly independent Indonesian state invested heavily in modernization projects that marginalized previously existing agrarian practices and settlements. The kampung was the name used for agrarian settlements during the colonial period. In the subsequent years, however, the name and the settlements themselves have evolved to acquire new meanings within the context of the megacity. This line of research investigates the kampung’s roots as a village structure and identifies key moments and infrastructural changes to the city that have led to the present-day form of the kampung, which, along with the global capital enclave, constitutes one of the most dominant conditions for development in Jakarta today.

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Agricultural Transformation

EVOLUTION OF THE KAMPUNG

1942

1942

1880

1880

1945 indonesian independence

1909 expansion of commuter rail

The nodal system of growth enabled by new rail and road infrastructure resulted in vacant space, which was quickly occupied by informal settlements that grew from an evolution of preexisting agrarian villages.

japanese occupation

1901 dutch ethical policy laws passed

first railroad established in central java

1868

1983

1983

1959

1959

1962

1967

1997

jakarta hosts fourth asian games

beginning of economic boom

east asian financial crisis

sukarno declares himself prime minister

2000

After gaining independence from Dutch rule in 1945, industrial zones proliferated on the city’s periphery and, due to the promise of economic opportunity, new settlements appeared in their proximity. Funded by foreign investment, further sporadic city growth produced numerous instances of kampung development, forming a low-density urban tissue that occupies much of the residual space between industrial, commercial, and residential areas of the Jakarta metro region.

AGRARIAN

RIVERINE

RAIL

CONFLUENCE

INDEPENDENCE 1945–1966

ECONOMIC BOOM TO FINANCIAL CRISIS 1960–1997

Kampung development tends to occur in conjunction with new infrastructure, along the linear corridor of rails, roads, and canals, and out of underutilized agrarian land.

Agricultural Transformation

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POSTCOLONIAL 1900–1940

AGRARIAN

RIVERINE

RAIL

CONFLUENCE

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Max Sell, John Wray IV

FREE DEMOCRACY 2004 to PRESENT

PRESENT DAY

Empirically, the difficulty in articulating kampung development patterns is due to the confluence of one or more of these infrastructural drivers in close proximity to each other. Nevertheless, the kampung adopts an inherent pattern that illustrates flows of capital, state influence, and quality of life incidences.

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Clayton Strange

An Ideal Alluvial Flux: Agricultural Transformation in the Development of Jakarta

along the loose form of a grid, interspersed by waterways and enclosed in a defensive perimeter wall (see page 32). Agricultural land soon to be developed along with the new settlement would follow the same grid logic established by the Dutch. Beyond the city edge as well, wetlands were drained and existing rivers were diverted and straightened, extending the rectilinear Renaissance logic onto the Javanese countryside. The form of the model shaped the geometry of its surroundings, creating a familiar environment for the predominantly Dutch inhabitants of the city.

However, the etymological significance of this transplanted urban scheme would soon be superseded by influences of the indigenous landscape on which it was constructed. According to Kees Grijns and Peter J. M. Nas, by the end of the 18th century the city had succumbed to disease owing to aspects of the climate, as well as to the effects of agricultural practices related to sugarcane and the development of fishponds along the strip of wetland between the old city and the coast, which created an ideal environment for malaria-carrying mosquitos.1

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The sprawling form of Jakarta today betrays nothing of the finite, walled enclave that was originally built at the mouth of the Ciliwung River. Over time, abstract planning mechanisms such as the grid and the Dutch ideal city, initially employed to transform the exotic landscape of west Java into something familiar, gave way first to indigenous patterns of urbanization, and then finally to an altogether new hybrid wherein the precipitous megacity emerged through the urbanization of the agricultural landscape.

Agricultural forms and orders were transformed into new uses, calling into question the utility of their persistent spatial relationships.

In the early 17th century the Dutch conquered the settlement at the mouth of the river and began constructing Batavia. The new settlement was established as a quintessentially Dutch conurbation, replete with cobblestone streets and Dutch-style houses. The existing meandering form of the river was reorganized and straightened to reflect an ideal city form perhaps best illustrated by 16th-century Flemish mathematician and engineer Simon Stevin. In this scheme, edifices were organized

Simon Stevin, Ideal Port City Plan, 1590.

and concrete edifices symbolic of a supposedly emergent social modernity, the logic of expansion shifted away from adopted planning models.

With the city’s new status as national capital, rural–urban immigration skyrocketed, ushering in a new era of population growth. Soon planned areas of the city came to comprise a small fraction of the metropolis, and familiar models of growth, both those indigenous to Java and those transplanted from European sources, became insufficient to describe the city.

One of the most significant changes became the muddying of the linear growth process that had previously characterized the organization of the island’s agrarian villages.

This can best be observed in the growth of the city leading up to the 1960s: one can easily see a process underway wherein the urbanized areas, typically located along rivers, began to march outward, invading the space of agriculture that had previously existed in between these urban “fingers” (see page 33). In this way,

An Ideal Alluvial Flux

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The superimposition of the imported grid on the meandering alluvial geometry continued south as the city’s center of gravity shifted with the development of the colonial enclave of Weltevreden. However, just as the airy Indiesstyle single-story houses and long gardens characteristic of this new extension reflected changing attitudes about the image of the city, the district’s organization also took a looser, more negotiated configuration with the existing trajectories of land and water, even prompting some to speculate about indigenous influences in the form of the new square. In the most general sense, this expansion also marked the city’s first concerted march upriver, following the north– south linear urbanization pattern characteristic of Java. This linear logic of nodal development along the river would continue to characterize the growth of the city through the first half of the 20th century until independence.

Yet, even as the postindependence period saw the construction of nationalist monuments

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Clayton Strange Urban Growth of Jakarta until 1960.

form of organization, one of the most persistent vestiges of the landscape’s agrarian beginnings continues to be the predominance of north– south rights of way. Indeed, many of the large projects undertaken in the past few decades have encouraged east–west movement through the city and across the island. One could interpret the complex system of developments and infrastructure that emerged during the late 1970s and early 1980s during the transformation of the coast as one such example.

At the same time it is the linearity of the landscape and the vestiges of these unique organizations that emerge from it that give Jakarta its unique qualities as a city. One can imagine how a concerted effort toward the preservation, programming, and development of existing open spaces throughout the city as well as investment in more east–west systems of movement could begin to alleviate pressure from systems and infrastructures that are currently overburdened. In this way, a system operating at the scale of a megalopolis could begin to emerge, taking advantage of the natural linearity of Java’s landscape while, at the same time, developing a latticework of mobility that could accommodate the new scale and densities of Jakarta.

1. Kees Grijns and Peter J. M. Nas, JakartaBatavia: Socio-Cultural Essays (Leiden, Netherlands: KITLV, 2000), 7.

An Ideal Alluvial Flux

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strips of development that functioned well as a model of linear urbanism in a preindustrial society suddenly became part of an urban continuum operating at new, much higher densities and without the familiar rhythm consisting of water, agriculture, and the built environment. With the dissolution of these old forms of organization and the general absorption and retooling of agricultural spaces into the purview of the city, the need for new urban uses, economies, and complex infrastructures has become urgent. Unfortunately, sufficient implementation of new strategies to deal with this geographic reconfiguration of rural–urban culture into a megalopolis of 30 million continues to be a challenge.

Of course, going hand in hand with the need for planned mechanisms to deal with such scales and densities is the fact that the transformation of these agricultural landscapes has generally occurred through informal processes of migration from rural areas. In this way, it has been the assimilation of the shapes, forms, practices, and geometries of rural life into the densities, economies, and diversity of uses characteristic of the city that has come to shape a pervasive, continuous mix of agricultural, residential, and small-scale light-industrial uses. Different than sprawl, it is the small scale, density, and mix of uses that, during the 1990s, prompted the diaspora of the term desakota into the field of urban studies.

The specific role of open green areas in this configuration, and specifically the geographical transition from agricultural use toward uses more attuned to urban densities, also bears mentioning. The fine grain of the fabric in these areas, a relic of the territory’s previous composition of predominantly small farms and river villages, results in a very gradual transition from agriculture, at the utmost periphery, to recreational spaces, and finally to civic spaces and hotel gardens near the city center. In this way, we can observe geographically the organic process of transformation that continues to unfold.

These developments raise a number of questions regarding the efficacy of particular forms of organization at the scale of the megacity as well as the capacities at which such urban formations can persist without the investment in and development of large-scale infrastructures of various types typically found in large cities. As a

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Project: The Sudirman Six

Max Sell John Wray IV

Since the 1950s, the urbanization process in Jakarta has transformed a vast area of former agrarian settlements into the world’s third-largest megacity. A massive investment in transportation infrastructure during this time established motorized vehicles as the prevailing form of personal mobility within the city. But with Jakarta’s rapid population growth, this infrastructural investment has created a condition of nearconstant gridlock. The Sudirman Corridor, Jakarta’s main thoroughfare, operates along the north–south axis of the city’s central spine, often to the detriment of the local-scale lines of mobility it traverses. At the intersection of Sudirman and the Banjir Canal is Dukuh Atas, a rail station serving an east–west regional connection that will be combined with Jakarta’s new north–south Mass Rapid Transit (MRT) line. Here, a pilot project for future transit-oriented development creates the opportunity for a novel confluence of collective and social space mediated by the rhythms of the city and the introduction of new scales of mobility.

37 Three bridges designed to facilitate underutilized corridors function as hybrid collective space along Jakarta’s most heavily traveled thoroughfare.

MRT SUDIRMAN // LEVEL 4

MRT SUDIRMAN // LEVEL 2

MRT SUDIRMAN // LEVEL 1

Public courtyards punctuate the levels of each bridge, providing a connective tissue that accommodates multiple scales and speeds of access for pedestrian and rail commuters to navigate one of Jakarta’s busiest intermodal hubs.

Project: The Sudirman Six

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MRT SUDIRMAN // LEVEL 3

39

Max Sell, John Wray IV In section, the bridges are designed to provide public open spaces and pedestrian access at multiple levels.

42 Following the 1990s’ economic decline, Indonesia has continued to expand rapidly. The Golden Triangle forms a powerful economic and commercial core. The concentric ring road system keeps growing, with a new outer ring to connect the airport with Tanjung Priok slated for development and a new port being constructed in the western part of the city.

UNIT 02 Devin Dobrowolski Cannon Ivers Thomas Nideröst

Historically, Jakarta’s growth followed the path of the Ciliwung River, connecting the former capital of Bogor with Batavia. Since the 1950s, Jakarta has undergone a period of near-constant outward expansion, adding numerous ring roads to accommodate the current metro region, an agglomeration of five metro regions known as Jabodetabek, that encompasses the municipalities of Jakarta, Bogor, Depok, Tangerang, and Bekasi. Despite the addition of multiple ring roads, the city’s dominant axis still lies along its central north–south corridor.

The introduction of Jakarta’s first MRT system further reinforces the importance of this axis, following the path of the Sudirman Corridor, connecting its financial and administrative centers. The question of how effectively this new public transit system will be incorporated by the city relies on whether it can succeed in integrating the networks that have contributed to Jakarta’s outward and linear growth.

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Following Flows: The Linear City

JAVA: SOCIAL, CULTURAL, AND ECONOMIC MOVEMENT

java: distribution of east–west rail connections

java: distribution of north–south road connections

Highlands to Lowlands: The original road infrastructure relates to Indonesia’s geologic formation. A series of linear roadways connect the highlands of the south to the lowlands along the Java Sea. This is the fastest way to deliver Jakarta’s commodities to the ports or rail hubs from which they are internationally exported.

Following Flows: The Linear City

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java: primary economic centers

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Devin Dobrowolski, Cannon Ivers, Thomas Nideröst

INDONESIA: JAKARTA AS DOMESTIC AND INTERNATIONAL TRADING HUB

Indonesian Exports and World Markets: Cocoa, third largest producer globally—exports to Malaysia, United States, Singapore, Brazil, and China; Coffee, one of the largest gross producers globally—exports to United States, Germany, Japan, Italy, and Singapore; Garments, produced in central and east Java— exports to United States, United Kingdom, Germany, Japan, and Singapore; Palm Oil, one of the largest producers—exports to China, India, Malaysia, Singapore, and Italy; Spices, including pepper, cinnamon, tobacco, nutmeg—exports to United States, Germany, Japan, Italy, and Singapore.

SCALAR AND TYPOLOGICAL COMPARISON OF PORTS

SOUTHEAST ASIA: MAJOR PORTS

manila

taiwan

jakarta

kuala lumpur

singapore

46

Following Flows: The Linear City

hong kong

JAVA: PORT TYPOLOGIES

PENINSULA PORT: JEPARA

COVE PORT: SEMARANG

Peninsula and Cove: Port typologies throughout the region have major implications for import/export capacity as well as morphological implications for the metro regions they support.

By comparison, Jakarta’s main port of Tanjung Priok is small for the region and prone to congestion, hence the need for a new, modernized port as the city grows in the 21st century.

PENINSULA PORT: SITUBONDO

GROWTH OVER TIME // INTERSECTIONS AND ADJACENCIES

present day and projected

1980–1997

1980

independence to asia games

1930–1950

batavia and bogor

Growth over Time: Historically, Jakarta’s growth followed the path of the Ciliwung River, connecting the former capital of Bogor with Batavia. Since the 1950s, Jakarta has undergone a period of near-constant outward expansion, adding numerous ring roads to accommodate the current metro region called Jabodetabek.

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Devin Dobrowolski, Cannon Ivers, Thomas Nideröst

asia games to

PROPOSED MRT STATIONS

22 // Kp. Bandan II

23 // Kemayoran

24 // Sunter

17 // Sawa Besar

18 // Mangga Besar

19 // Glodok

20 // Kota Tua

13 // Dukuh Atas

14 // Bundaran HI

15 // Monas

16 // Harmoni

09 // Senayan

10 // Istora

11 // Bendungan Hilir

12 // Setiabudi

05 // Kp. Bandan

06 // Kp. Bandan II

07 // Blok M

08 // Sisingamangaraja

01 // Lebak Bulus

02 // Fatmawati

03 // Cipete Raya

04 // Haji Nawi

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21 // Kp. Bandan

PROPOSED MRT ROUTE AND PHASING

24 // Sunter 23 // Kemayoran 22 // Kp. Bandan II 24

PHASE II

21 // Kp. Bandan 22

20 // Kota Tua

19

23

21 20

19 // Glodok

18

18 // Mangga Besar

17

17 // Sawa Besar

16

16 // Harmoni

15

15 // Monas

14

14 // Bundaran HI 13 // Dukuh Atas

13

12 // Setiabudi

12

11 // Bendungan Hilir 10

10 // Istora PHASE I

09

09 // Senayan

08

08 // Sisingamangaraja 07

07 // Blok M

06

06 // Kp. Bandan II 05

05 // Kp. Bandan

04

04 // Haji Nawi 03 // Cipete Raya

03

02 // Fatmawati 01

01 // Lebak Bulus

02

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11

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Lorena Bello

The Possibilities for a Linear Urbanism in Jakarta

special attention to their crossings and intersections.2 This has been the work of urban designers Joan Busquets and de Solà-Morales in their explorations around high-speed train interchanges and multimodal stations or ports, respectively.3 Similar explorations are found in Felipe Correa’s studios for the metro line stations in Quito, Ciudad de Mexico, and Jakarta (as we discover in this publication).4 In a manner similar to Smets’s, Stan Allen has identified infrastructural urbanism as an escape route from an era of too much symbolism and formalism in architecture.5 For Allen, the lessons learned from this practice should stop architecture from the production of autonomous objects and instead shift toward the design of flexible platforms for program, events, and activities. In Smets’s opinion, this shift is illustrated

by Medellín’s Urban Integrated Projects (PUI)— Metrocable, escalators, and library parks—where infrastructure has proven an intelligent mechanism to blur the physical and spatial boundaries between rich and poor by improving the everyday life of the informal settlers.6 The Metrocable and escalators, together with the library parks

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For the field of urban design, in the context of an extended metropolis like Jakarta, with 30 million dwellers, mobility infrastructures for people, energy, and goods have become paramount.

The more globally connected we become and the more our cities with surrounding regions grow and sprawl, the more we rely on mobility infrastructures to support our daily activities.

Alongside other urban thinkers, Marcel Smets and Kelly Shannon claim mobility infrastructure as a new field for design in order to break up the encapsulating spaces that engineers have conceived to isolate them from our cities.1 In Smets’s terms, “interchanges” between different modes could become new areas of “centrality” if designed as civic public/private spaces, improving the form and flows of their surroundings.

As he proposes, mobility infrastructures should evolve and hybridize to accommodate more civic and natural functions together with movement.

Besides, in his discussion of Manuel de SolàMorales’s ideas, these infrastructures should be designed “from kilometers to centimeters” to enhance continuity and establish social and natural relationships along their paths, giving

If we were to take the linear proposals of the Jakarta studio as models for a 21st century interpretation of linear urbanism, we could observe the following adjustments to the principles stated above: 1.

2.

1.

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Linear urbanism is a means of interface between city and countryside. “Ruralize urban life, urbanize the countryside,” was Soria’s slogan intended to reverse the rural migration from country to city, occupy the resulting abandoned land, and avoid vertical urbanization in cities, which lacked decent worker housing.

2. Linear urbanism was framed around the potentially infinite construction of infrastructure. In Soria’s vision, a linear city could stretch from Cadiz to St. Petersburg, from Peking to Brussels with a single linear street as backbone that provided railway, tramway, and utilities down the middle, while run by freight cars at night.

3. Linear urbanism is analogous to a linear version of the garden city. Soria’s maxim was, “For every family its own house, for each house an orchard and garden.” But linear cities were proposed as connectors between point cities of the past with their countryside, not as suburbs or new towns segregated from urban centers.

4. Linear urbanism was shaped by a utopian vision of property management and land ownership where the rich and the poor were to live in close proximity and blocks

were to be subdivided into moderately priced lots.

5. Linear urbanism is also a speculative model of urbanization developed by the railroad company, Soria’s own company.

6. Linear urbanism presumes control of the land beyond the linear, built-up area, proposing farming and industrial exploitation.

7. Linear urbanism assumes that all land along the railroad is equally valuable. There is therefore no differential model of development along the length of the infrastructure, not even at the train stops or stations.11

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

Linear urbanism accepts the density of the city center and tries to solve its congestion by providing public lines of transport.

Within this already urbanized territory, linear urbanism proposes the intensification of certain city blocks around mobility stations in a linear fashion, designed as new central business districts in the city. It is a series of nodes, not a continuous band of urbanization.

Linear urbanism is more similar to the idea of bigness than the garden city. We could say that it is a linear model of bigness where, at linear intervals, the city receives the services that its surroundings lack.

Linear urbanism has a civic social agenda in the public spaces it provides; the properties, however, all seem to be high value.

Linear urbanism is today developed in a public/private fashion, where the private is still—as in the past—the train company.

In dense conditions of urbanization, linear urbanism has no capacity to design the immediate bounds of the linear development, but tries to engage with them in a porous fashion.

Linear urbanism is framed today around a district station where values are very different from the axis itself.

Both students’ schemes take an infrastructural public space adjacent to a proposed metro station—river plaza and river boardwalk—as the armature to give form to their proposals and provide for the collective space where different social classes, as well as the formal and the informal, would intermingle in the future.12 In

The Possibilities for a Linear Urbanism in Jakarta

they link, have enormously improved their users’ “spatial capital,” in Edward Soja’s words, and for that reason the PUI has been acclaimed as an excellent social urban project.7 It is with this framework of infrastructural urban practices in mind that I would like to interpret the prevailing possibilities for a linear urbanism in Jakarta as it has been explored in this studio. Architectural historian George Collins dedicated many years to expanding the knowledge of cities’ linear arrangement along transportation routes, and he studied in detail its first pilot project: the Ciudad Lineal, designed by Arturo Soria y Mata in Madrid (1890s).8 In Collins’s findings, we discover decentralized urban models that tried to alleviate the congested city centers brought on by industrialization at the turn of the 19th century.9 These models continued to be explored well into the 20th century in the linear proposals of Edgar Chambless’s Roadtown, the Soviet Five-Year Plan, the British MARS group, Ludwig Hilberseimer’s Linear City proposal in the 1940s, Le Corbusier’s proposals with ASCORAL, and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Broadacre City regional plan.10 In Collins’s analysis as well as Soria’s proposal, one can identify the following principles:

1. Kelly Shannon and Marcel Smets, The Landscape of Contemporary Infrastructure (Rotterdam: nai010, 2010).

2. Marcel Smets, “Setting the Capsule Free” (lecture, Urban Form of Mobility conference, Flemish Association of Urban Planners, Brussels, September 27, 2002), http://www.piarc.org/ressources/documents/982,Open-capsule-3-Kralow.pdf.

3. Joan Busquets, Catalunya Continental: Rail Infrastructure as the Backbone of Development (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Graduate School of Design, 2008). See also Joan Busquets, Maastricht Urban Surplus (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Graduate School of Design, 2008); and in recent projects, 2008: Lisboa, regeneration area TGV station and Estaçao do Oriente (Portugal); 2008: Redeveloping Railway triangle. (Amsterdam). 2010: Coimbra, Portugal, urban project for the mixed-use development of the TGV station area, found at http://www.bau-barcelona. com/joan-busquets/profile/11-Recent%20 projects. See also Manuel de Solà-Morales,

A Matter of Things (Rotterdam: nai010, 2008); see the project on Leuven or the urban ports of Genoa, Thessaloniki, Trieste, Antwerp, and Almere, with special mention of the Moll de la Fusta in Barcelona, the port of Saint-Nazaire, Porto’s Atlantic seafront, and Scheveningen Boulevard.

4. Felipe Correa and Carlos Garciavelez Alfaro, Mexico City: Between Geometry and Geography (San Francisco: Applied Research and Design Publishing, 2015); and Felipe Correa and Ramiro Almeida, eds., A Line in the Andes (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Graduate School of Design, 2012).

5. Stan Allen, “Infrastructural Urbanism,” in Points + Lines: Diagrams and Projects for the City (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1999), 52.

6. The urban design studio that I cotaught at MIT in spring 2015 explored the possibilities of infrastructure in informal settlements when provided before encroachment. See studio syllabus: https://architecture .mit. edu/sites/architecture.mit.edu/files /attachments/course/4.163%20UD%20 Syllabus_Bello_Samper.pdf.

7. The Metrocable together with Porto’s metro received the Veronica Rudge Green Prize in Urban Design in 2013. The webpage prepared by the board directed by Joan Busquets explains the Medellín project in detail; see http://www.urbandesignprize.org /past/medellin.

8. See the George Collins Collection on Linear City Planning, Harvard University, http:// oasis.lib.harvard.edu/oasis/deliver /deepLink?_collection=oasis&uniqueId=des00004.

9. George Collins, “Linear Planning throughout the World,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 18, no. 3 (1959): 74–93.

10. George Collins, “The Ciudad Lineal of Madrid,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 18, no. 3 (1959): 38–53.

11. Ibid.

12. In a recent conversation, Erioseto Hendranata and Dessen Hilman—MIT alumni from Jakarta—shared that food would be the key program for such intermingling to happen in these public spaces.

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Lorena Bello

conclusion, we can see that in the 21st century the design of linear urbanism, different from Soria’s utopian vision, has tried to cope with the point city of the past and introduce infrastructural lines that articulate mobility while providing for collective public spaces and programs.

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Project: Framing the Banjir Kanal Transect

Andrew Boyd Michael Keller

In the context of a city where publicly owned land is extremely limited and building is primarily realized by private actors, the construction of the MRT and potential reorganization of related infrastructures present a unique opportunity to consider alternative models of collective space that may be achieved through the alignment of high-density, mixed-use development with an articulated section of public amenities. This project explores how design can bring form to an emerging centrality in Jakarta, directing transit-oriented and mixed-use development motives toward alternative models that, through vertical suspension and a mediation of scale, free the ground and frame new spaces of appearance in the contemporary city. Challenging the dominant tower-and-plinth typology that uniformly occupies the ground of current development, a syncopated rhythm of built and framed spaces mediates multiple itineraries and publics, merging market, station, and park while serving as a catalyst for the reorganization of the surrounding urban fabric.

55 View of the project at Dukuh Atas, located at the intersection of Banjir Flood Kanal and the Sudirman Corridor.

1_CONTINUOUS SURFACE + CULTURAL ANCHOR

Courtyard Gedung Arsip Nasional, 16 m

Bundaran, HI

3_ VERTICAL SUSPENSION, TOWER CLUSTERING

Tower + Plinth Plaza Indonesia, 240 m

Pasar Baru 540 m

56

Project: Framing the Banjir Kanal Transect

Taman Suropati

2_ TOWER-PLINTH SUPERBLOCK

Tower + Courtyard Dharmala, 105 m

Top: Three typical typologies. Left to right: Courtyard, Gedung Arsip Nasional, 16 m.; Tower and Courtyard, Dharmala, 105 m.; and Tower and Plinth, Plaza Indonesia, 240 m.

Bottom, left to right: Continuous surface; tower-and-plinth typology; alternative model of development, freeing the ground through the suspension of shared amenities.

5

57

Andrew Boyd, Michael Keller Top: Sectional perspective of the project, shows integration with mobility infrastructure and ground access.

Bottom, left to right: Existing conditions, realignment and conditioning for future airport link and Light Rail Transit (LRT), and reorganization of surrounding fabric through the extension of transverse lines.

mixed-use towers shared amenities

transjakarta brt passive uses

lrt

| lobby + market

mrt

| regional rail

airport link

Exploded axonometric diagram shows the sectional distribution of program and collective space.

Project: Framing the Banjir Kanal Transect

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active uses

59

Andrew Boyd, Michael Keller Perspective view of the project, which elevates collective amenities and pedestrian access, freeing the ground plane for transportation infrastructure.

Title

Firstname Lastname

9m 15m

68

9m 15m

Plan and elevation analysis of a typical block within the historic core containing buildings from multiple eras of Jakarta’s development.

30m

30m

UNIT 03 Devin Dobrowolski Thomas NiderĂśst

Kota Tua contains a rich collection of traditional, colonial, and Art Deco buildings, which mark the evolution of Batavia, the former capital of the Dutch East Indies. The contemporary city of Jakarta has since expanded south along the rivers, stretched east and west into the floodplains, and even north as reclamation projects expand the coastline further into the Java Sea. The relocation of administrative and financial districts along with the introduction of heavyweight transportation infrastructure have isolated this part of the city, leaving an intermediate scale of development well intact, despite obvious decay to individual buildings. Current regulations aimed at preservation within the district have largely faltered, due to the high cost of renovating and maintaining individual properties and low return on investment resulting from poor economic development within the district. This research analyzes Kota Tua’s urban tissue of Kota Tua to understand its historical development and inform recommendations to update the historic core for more contemporary uses and programs.

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Kota Tua Historic Core

Kota Tua Historic Core

70 Scalar comparisons of the dominant building fabric in Kota Tua. Left: Present-day infill has created an extremely narrow rowhouse typology leaving little room for services or space within the block. Right: Historic preservation has left a larger, more diverse tissue, despite the decay of individual buildings, with the potential to be updated with contemporary uses.

6.3 6.3

6.2

4.3

71

4.3

4.3

4.3 4.3

6.3

6.2 6.2 8.0 8.0

8.0

6.2 6.2 8.0 8.0

Devin Dobrowlski, Thomas Niderรถst Colonial building typologies within the historic core. Ground floor plans and elevations show layout and spatial configurations.

30m

9m 15m

30m

Kota Tua Historic Core

72

9m 15m

9m 15m 9m 15m

Above: Analysis of a preserved block along the canal shows the relationship between the building form in plan, the organization of facades along the canal, and the development of an irregular parcel structure over time.

30m

30m

Following page: Plan shows buildings currently preserved as museums in the historic core (orange) and buildings with historic value and renovation potential.

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Devin Dobrowlski, Thomas Niderรถst

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Devin Dobrowolski

New Old City: A Third Model of Development for Jakarta

While the political history of Indonesia under Suharto has left a polarizing legacy, his policies directly shaped the course of development in the contemporary megacity region.

Despite the economic progress achieved in the 20th century, the present-day morphology of the city is an indicator of the clear socioeconomic boundaries that still define daily life in Jakarta. Fundamentally, Jakarta’s two dominant models of development represent the separation between the foreign capital investment at work in the region and a rapidly growing working class of Indonesian farmers and tradespeople transitioning to urban life.

Tower-and-plinth development occupies large, irregular footprints over much of Jakarta, concentrated especially along the Sudirman Corridor where the major administrative, commercial, and financial centers were moved following independence. These developments are islands of urban life that combine several lower floors of shopping and retail with multiple upper levels of residential or corporate office space. Most importantly, connection to the city at large is restricted save for controlled

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At more than 30 million people, Jakarta is one of the largest megacity regions in the world.1 Like many Southeast Asian cities, Jakarta experienced an extreme period of urban transformation in the latter half of the 20th century.

The desire on the part of President Suharto and his New Order government to establish a fully modern, independent Indonesian state included massive investments in the expansion and modernization of transportation-related infrastructure. For this generation, the idea of modernization was inextricable from the automobile, and private mobility was the Western condition to which they aspired. As a result, massive elevated highways encircling the city were constructed at great expense over the course of several decades. Suharto also worked aggressively to introduce economic policies designed to attract foreign capital investment, fueling a massive building boom and a steadily growing economy through the late 1990s.

Deregulation of the financial sector in the late 1980s also created a surge in the Indonesian banking industry and led to a flurry of development along Jakarta’s central corridor.

A 1650 map highlights the rectilinear urban blocks and canals established in the Dutch trading port of Batavia, remnants of which are still evident in the historic core of the present-day city of Jakarta.

served as the administrative and financial hub of the city and was the capital of the Dutch East India Company’s trading operations in Southeast Asia. The conditions that led to the abandonment and isolation of Jakarta’s former urban core preserved a singular scale and morphological composition within the city.

The legacy of Dutch colonial planning in Kota Tua is evident in the orthogonal grid that defines a series of regular blocks organized around a large public square. Batavia was formerly the gateway to the city, but the steady process of shoreline creation through land reclamation has pushed the old city further inland, and its northern border is now cut off from the coast by an eight-lane elevated highway. The old city is still delineated by north–south running canals to the east and west and is anchored by a central canal, but the waterways’ state of contamination has severely diminished their charm. Nevertheless, recent efforts have been made to revitalize Kota Tua and policies have been enacted to preserve the district’s historic buildings. These policies have proven largely unsuccessful for a handful of reasons including, but not limited to, the inherent difficulty of accessing the core, pollution associated with the stagnant waterways, and the high cost of renovating individual buildings. The rules instituted to preserve Kota Tua currently appear to lack the necessary flexibility to generate the income

New Old City: A Third Model of Development for Jakarta

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vehicle-access points that often seem to thwart the opportunity for pedestrian access, rendering Jakarta’s streets formidable and hostile places to set foot. This type of development forms an almost unbroken chain along Jakarta’s primary thoroughfares, contributing greatly to the city’s ever-present traffic gridlock and a sharply fragmented urban fabric.

Occupying the periphery of high-rise developments or lining the banks of Jakarta’s many canals, kampungs form a dense, low-rise urban infill, comprising Jakarta’s other dominant urban condition. Largely unregulated, the kampung is an evolution of the traditional agricultural village structure, which now houses the majority of Jakarta’s low-wage service workers, opportunistic entrepreneurs, and street vendors. Despite the kampung’s close physical proximity to tower-and-plinth development, these two models represent parallel worlds within the same city that almost never overlap, further reinforcing an already socially segregated populace.

Apart from the more recent introduction of suburban developments created according to the North American archetype, there is an isolated pocket within the city that represents a third model of urban development. Kota Tua, meaning “old town,” is the remnant of the Dutch colonial city of Batavia. Prior to the declaration of Indonesian independence, Batavia

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Devin Dobrowolski Within Kota Tua there are three prominent historical building types: Chinese shophouses; Dutch colonial buildings; and large institutional buildings constructed in a Neoclassical or Art Deco style.

As an urban tissue, Kota Tua not only represents an intermediate scale of building, but also an open space. While it has become a common perception that Indonesian people prefer not to walk or congregate outdoors, this may be as much a result of the poor state of outdoor public space within Jakarta as it is a cultural observation. The opportunity to transform Kota Tua’s public realm through the use of vegetation and open-air amenities could serve as a model for the improvement of collective spaces throughout the city.

This combination of building conventions, materials, and composition has created a vernacular unique to Kota Tua that tells, in built form, the story of its urban development through independence in built form. It is a district frozen in time, but not for long. The destructive forces of the tropical climate and ample moisture from annual monsoons are a constant threat. In many cases, even a short period of neglect will lead to the complete structural failure of a building.

Initially, the roof becomes susceptible to rot, and then without regular care and maintenance, the effects of the tropical climate allow vegetation to take root and, eventually, completely overtake the building. Conversely, in cases where build-

Above: The Tjipta Niaga building photographed prior to most of its roof and facade collapsing in 2014.

Following page: The building is now undergoing extensive renovation, although the problem of building decay and neglect is persistent in Kota Tua, as vegetation quickly overtakes abandoned properties in the tropical climate.

New Old City: A Third Model of Development for Jakarta

78

and interest needed to transform the area into an economically and culturally vibrant district.

Despite representing an eclectic mixture of cultural provenance and programmatic uses, the buildings within Kota Tua share a number of prominent design characteristics that relate to their thermal and cultural performance within a tropical climate before the advent of air conditioning and the ubiquity of automotive transportation. 2 In almost all cases, the incorporation of a connected colonnade or breezeway adjacent to the street creates a shaded public interface between interior and exterior spaces. Relatively high floor-to-ceiling heights are also common as a means to allow hot air to rise to roof vents and away from people. Furthermore, a wide array of fenestration strategies have been developed to contend with the blazing tropical sun while still facilitating the need for interior cross ventilation. Finally, while period building technologies and necessary capacities account for the prevalence of two and three story structures in Kota Tua, this scale could function as a useful mediator between the flat single-story development of the kampung and the multistory towers that comprise Jakarta’s skyline.

for revenue in return. There is a perceived danger associated with perpetuating the same approach in oversaturating the district with museums and historical replicas that, without a diversification of program, lacks a recipe for long-term economic viability. While there is a clear recognition of the historical and cultural value of Kota Tua, its potential as a model for a third phase of Jakarta’s urban development is perhaps its most valuable Future asset.

1. According to the United Nations’ 2014 census data, the city of Jakarta reached a population of 10.1 million. The megacity region also includes the cities of Bogor, Depok, Tangerang, and Bekasi and shares a combined population of roughly 31.5 million. As for current world megacity estimates, Tokyo is still the largest at 37 million, followed by Shanghai at 35.5 million. United Nations, World Urbanization Prospect: The 2014 Revision (New York: UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division, 2015), https:// esa.un.org/unpd/wup/Publications/Files/ WUP2014-Report.pdf.

2. Within Kota Tua there are three prominent historical building types: (a) Chinese shophouses; (b) Dutch colonial buildings; and (c) large institutional buildings constructed in a Neoclassical or Art Deco style.

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Devin Dobrowolski

ings have managed to be preserved, usually at great cost to the owner of the property, the policies of restoration themselves are so stringent that the buildings cannot typically be repurposed for contemporary uses.

With the introduction of Jakarta’s first metro line, a tentatively planned second phase has the potential to reconnect Kota Tua with the major financial and administrative networks of the city. Occupying a key position at the nexus of Jakarta’s central spine and its heavily privatized waterfront, Kota Tua has the potential to regain a position as an important centrality within the city and the region. The pressures of development will almost certainly attempt to replicate the same tower-and-plinth model that has proliferated in other parts of the city. Now is the critical time to redesignate the extent of the historic district and define the rules by which it can be updated and modernized while still retaining the spatial qualities that make it unique.

Kota Tua presents a singular example of how to rethink historic preservation for future cases in which the question of what to preserve is at stake. Is it the artifact of the building that must be preserved, or a carefully constructed set of embodied conditions that creates spatial identity and historical continuity? Until now, much of the focus on historic preservation within Kota Tua has been targeted at maintaining individual properties at high cost with little opportunity

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Project: Kota Baru

Devin Dobrowolski Thomas NiderĂśst

The vision of Kota Baru is based on four preservation strategies: rethinking private mobility to reinstate access to this part of the city; reorganizing key public buildings to allow for more generous frontage and capitalize on underutilized residual spaces in their adjacencies; enhancing spatial qualities unique to this district and within Jakarta; and creating a diversified model of development that reorganizes ownership possibilities through new building typologies, allowing for more contemporary uses while respecting the historic character of Kota Tua. The project defines rules meant to guide development and introduce a diversity of economic, social, and commercial uses through the activation of public space at the ground level.

The restoration of the historic district fosters diversity and multifunctionality, turning Kota Tua—the Old City—into a contemporary model for collective space.

81 Plan of Kota Baru. The new preservation district will be extended to the eastern and western canals, with the primary commercial, historic, and civic core concentrated along the central canal.

83

Devin Dobrowolski, Thomas NiderÜst Previous page, top: Present-day condition of Jakarta’s major ring roads and highways.

Previous page, bottom: Proposed LRT lines for the next phase of transportation development.

Above: Proposal to decommission the Jl. Tol Pelabuhan Highway, which blocks Kota Tua from the present-day waterfront, and thus allow greater access to the historic core via public and private transportation.

Project: Kota Baru

84

85

Devin Dobrowolski, Thomas NiderĂśst Previous page: The proposal identifies three major areas of development for the historic core. Top to bottom: New MRT stop behind the Mandiri Bank museum, connecting public transit with cultural institutions and a major regional transport hub at Kota Station; Central canal, along which a major commercial and residential corridor would be established; Decommissioned and residual land adjacent to the core, which could invite new programs such as education and innovation to Kota Tua.

Above: Isometric view of Kota Tua’s renovated central canal district.

BLD A1 - FOOTPRINT

BLD A1 - SHARED CENTRAL CORE

24 METER FRONTAGE

SHARED 2 FLOOR LIFT (FRONT) // PRIMARY CORE + FIRE STAIR (REAR)

BLD A1 - GROUND FLOOR CIRCULATION

BLD A1

3.0

9.0

3.5

COMMERCIAL // RESIDENTIAL

BLD B1 - FOOTPRINT

BLD B1 - STEPPED TWO ZONE CORE

18 METER FRONTAGE

2 FLOOR LIFT // 2 ZONE CORE W/ CONTROLLED ACCESS + FIRE STAIR

BLD B1 - GROUND FLOOR CIRCULATION

BLD B1

3.5

COMMERCIAL // RESIDENTIAL

CCESS

BLD C1 - FOOTPRINT

BLD C1 - SEPARATE COMPACT CORES

9.0

3.0

BLD C1 - GROUND FLOOR CIRCULATION

BLD C1

3.5 3.0

2 FLOOR LIFT // PRIMARY CORE + FIRE STAIR

COMMERCIAL // RESIDENTIAL

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Project: Kota Baru

CCESS

9.0

12 METER FRONTAGE

The reorganization of circulation at the ground level through the articulation of service and access cores can preserve the figure and general form of the shophouse typology while providing the opportunity for more contemporary uses. Offering the chance for multiple tenants to utilize space eases the burden of ownership and, in the case of historic buildings, the cost of renovation, restoration, and maintenance. A service corridor that is a minimum of 6 meters wide allows for off-street deliveries, waste removal, and emergency vehicle access.

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Devin Dobrowolski, Thomas Niderรถst New guidelines for canal-front renovations and building maintenance can ensure features such as continuous, covered breezeways along the canal and a high vegetative canopy. These features provide spatial qualities to the historic core that can be preserved even as density increases through the introduction of hybrid building typologies.

94 Higher terrain on Java’s southern coast, shaped by geologically recent volcanic activity, traps warm air during the dry season and massive amounts of precipitation during the monsoon season. The city of Jakarta sits on the massive outwash plain located between the mountains and the shallow Java Sea.

UNIT 04 Andrew Boyd Michael Keller

On the island of Java, the variable climate encounters the fixed condition of topography. While the cyclic monsoon palpably impacts Jakarta’s urban condition, the island’s mountainous volcanic spine gives Jakarta and its periphery a unique level of precipitation and a yearlong river flow. This macroscopic topographic condition interfaces with the microundulations of the low delta floodplain that is Jakarta’s foundation.Variables between water level and infrastructure yield formal differentiation of the urban fabric. Yet the accelerating variability of topographic and hydrologic conditions outpaces the static timeline of infrastructure.

Through coordination of future improvements in water and mobility infrastructures, potentials to increase redundancies in both the movement of water and people in the city are necessary to address pressures of growth and climatic variability.

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Water Infrastructure

December

January

March

February

402 mm

Average January Rainfall

November

April

58 mm

28°C

Average July Rainfall

Average Temperature

October

Like many tropical cities in Southeast Asia, Jakarta experiences distinct wet and dry monsoonal periods precipitated by regular seasonal shifts in wind direction. This condition, combined with the extreme topographic variation along Java’s north– south transect, creates periods of heavy rainfall on the island, especially within the Jakarta megacity region.

July

June

Water Infrastructure

August

96

September

May

WINTER MONSOON

97

Andrew Boyd, Michael Keller

SUMMER DRY SEASON

Diagrams illustrate the direction and relative strength of dominant wind patterns throughout the year.

FOOTHILLS:

HIGH ALTIDUDE:

MID-RIVER SYSTEM

UPPER RIVER SYSTEM

Top: A tracing of the predominate east–west and north–south lines of mobility and water infrastructure, combined with a projective extension of this grid. Building on an organizational logic of a city with dominant north–south connectivity, this drawing speculates on how greater redundancies at multiple scales can improve east–west connections for transit and water.

Bottom: Exaggerated topographic profile showing the extent of the Jakarta hydro region.

Water Infrastructure

98

OUTWASH PLANE: POULDER SYSTEM

99

Andrew Boyd, Michael Keller Examples of canals aligned with transportation infrastructure; in proximity to storage and retention basins; and with flows interrupted by forks, bends, and spatial constriction.

Water Infrastructure

100 Above and following page: Java’s volcanic topography forms a precipitation machine that yields high levels of rainfall in the upper watershed year-round. While responses to riverine flooding in Jakarta during the monsoon season are highly coordinated, the city faces increased challenges from direct rainfall accumulation in the lower areas that have subsided to elevations below sea level, which then require mechanical pumping.

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Andrew Boyd, Michael Keller

102

Jesse LeCavalier

Flooded with Redundancy

While comedic journalist and social critic John Oliver’s assessment is astute, it also reinforces a recurring perception that infrastructure is a fixed and permanent thing—something monumental and singular enough to be spectacularly destroyed. While urban and civic infrastructure elements are major investments of financial resources, political will, and human labor, it is possible that assumptions about infrastructure’s permanence and stasis act as subtle obstacles to the meaningful development of its potential role in cities, especially in light of the privatization pressures on collective space. The analysis conducted by the Jakarta studio rightfully points to the need for improvements to water and mobility infrastructure as a way to increase redundancies to deal with the “pressures of growth and climatic variability” and it suggests combining public forms with infrastructural development.2 One of the challenges in this combination is the friction between supporting

the needs of a public while ensuring desirable infrastructural operability, with the latter often prevailing at the expense of the former. However, the managerial pursuit of efficiency transforms when confronted with requirements to maintain continuity in the face of potential disruption. In response to this, planners often try to increase a system’s resiliency by introducing redundant elements. Between the demand for efficiency and the requirement of redundancy lies space for design to intervene on behalf of collective interests. By channeling the excesses that redundancy introduces into an infrastructural system, designers can help support the abundant pluralities that characterize of healthy urban life.

This, in turn, might also help provide alternative forms of infrastructural approaches that do not necessitate the schism as one that pits the dynamism of topography and hydrology against the stasis of infrastructure.

Infrastructure is more than a collection of physical installations. By expanding an imagination of infrastructure to include nonphysical elements like data and regulatory protocols, its impact and agency expand as well. As Susan

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“Infrastructure is anything that can be destroyed in an action movie.”

—John Oliver1

formula for water and the more transcendent “archetypal” water, Illich argues that the effect of modernity’s managerial and quantifying impulses is to strip the vitality and imagination from a substance for which those features are fundamental. His designation of this new compound as “stuff” is significant in the context of contemporary infrastructure because it makes water generic and allows it to be imagined as just another collection of quantities whose provision and movement is increasingly governed by underpinning logistical systems.

Ensuring the continuous circulation of whatever medium is traveling through infrastructural conduits is a preoccupation of infrastructural planners.7 Moreover, these conduits are bundled with others, and the media they circulate often contain yet other forms.8 For example, physical transportation, information and communications technology, and utility conduits like water, electricity, and natural gas all depend, of course, on reliable connectivity. Interruptions to this connectivity can have dramatic effects that exceed the scale of the disruption itself.9 Some have located the emergence of this networked imagination in planning efforts precipitating from World War II, including those by the US government to assess its own susceptibility to attack and industrial disablement.10 In a study of postwar network vulnerability, the engineer Paul Baran developed a now-familiar diagram of three different configurations: centralized, decentralized, and distributed. Baran’s report argues that the last category is the only way to ensure continuity of operations because if one node or edge is disrupted, alternative pathways remain available, thus allowing reliable connectivity.11 According to Peter Galison’s assessment of the study, “Decentralized nodes that maintained a local hierarchical structure were clearly better; a complete grid system was best of all . . . [T]he elusive goal all through these decades of distributed communication was a distributed grid or mesh, a thrust in the first instance aimed at removing the critical node.”12 In other words, in order to maintain an efficient and continuous operation, a certain amount of repetition and redundancy—inefficient from a particular point of view—was necessary and desirable.

Written around the same time as Baran’s report, Lewis Mumford’s monumental The City in History (1961) connects the flexibility and resiliency of the grid to its ability to facilitate the exchange of property. Mumford writes, “The gridiron answered, as no other plans did, the shifting values, the accelerated expansion,

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Leigh Star and Karen Ruhleder argue, the features of infrastructure include its embeddedness, its functional invisibility, and its role in the replication and reinforcing of standards and protocols.3 Thus, while infrastructure tends to reside in the background of urban experience, it persistently establishes limits of action within the city. Part of this is related to the ways in which infrastructure is called on by—or enrolled in—regimes of management. Familiar assumptions about infrastructure’s operation is that it should be efficient, that it should increase “flow,” that it should minimize congestion and lubricate passage. While these assumptions are partly marketing fantasies, they are also powerful narratives that make a case for the investment in and the maintenance of infrastructure, itself often a fraught political issue. However, this reliance on a managerial argument brings its own set of concerns, which bear further scrutiny and also suggest a continued need to create alternative lines of argumentation in the development of an infrastructural imagination.

As infrastructure is enlisted to manage resources, its priorities shift to maximizing the effect of those resources. By doing so, the nature of whatever thing an infrastructural system supports is abstracted and quantified. While infrastructure can act as a rich platform for civic life, managerial impulses that emphasize efficiency and performance can work against these tendencies. Moreover, these efforts to quantify and to manage have specific physical and spatial consequences that tend toward increased determination of use. As Stuart Elden argues, “Measure and control—the technical and the legal—need to be thought alongside land and terrain.”4 Elden’s examination of territory and territoriality extend to questions of discipline and security as he charts changing understandings of people within a given political space. He argues for a clear connection between the two: “Just as the people become understood as both discrete individuals and their aggregated whole, the land they inhabit is also something that is understood in terms of its geometric, rational properties.”5 In the same way populations and land are rendered as quantities to be measured, managed, and thereby controlled, water too is transformed. In response to a proposal for a new lake in Dallas, Ivan Illich writes, “The H2O which gurgles through Dallas plumbing is not water, but a stuff which industrial society creates . . . [T]he twentieth century has transmogrified water into a fluid with which archetypal waters cannot be mixed.”6 By making a distinction between the chemical

ing the effectiveness of infrastructure beyond speed and volume. Design can exist in the space between efficiency and redundancy to support the overflowing possibilities of urban life.17

1. John Oliver, Last Week Tonight, aired March 2, 2015.

2. Paul Baran, On Distributed Communications, document no.

RM-3420-PR (Santa Monica, CA:

RAND Corporation, 1964).

3. Susan Leigh Star and Karen Ruhleder, “Steps

Toward an Ecology of Infrastructure: Design

and Access for Large Information Spaces,”

Information Systems Research 7, no. 1 (March

1996): 111–34.

4. Stuart Elden, The Birth of Territory

(Chicago: University of Chicago Press,

2013), 322–23.

5. Stuart Elden, “Governmentality, Calculation, Territory,” Environment and Planning D:

Society and Space 25 (2007): 578.

6. Ivan Illich, H2O and the Waters of Forgetfulness (Berkeley, CA: Heyday Books,

1985), 7. Emphasis added.

7. Keller Easterling, “The New Orgman:

Logistics as an Organizing Principle of

Contemporary Cities,” in The Cybercities Reader, ed. Stephen Graham (London:

Routledge, 2004), 179–84.

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Jesse LeCavalier

the multiplying population, required by the capitalist regime.”13 He links public transportation and this “speculative gridiron” planning, calling them the “two main activities that gave dominance to capitalist forms in the growing cities of the nineteenth century,” and goes on to illustrate how previous infrastructural alignments and right-of-ways often determined the paths of those that follow, which tended to lead exactly to the centralized vulnerabilities that postwar urban planners were trying to escape.14 These linear intensifications contributed to a shift, in Mumford’s assessment, to the city “not treated as a social institute, but a private commercial venture to be carved up in any fashion that might increase turnover and further the rise in land values.”15 By foregrounding the connections between urban organization, urban growth, and property values, Mumford presents the city as both a physical entity and a legal one. In the context of infrastructure, while the former is the most visible, the latter might have the greater influence.

In the book’s concluding remarks, Mumford again examines grid organizations, this time not to highlight their limitations, but to champion them. Recognizing that he was writing in an era of emergent information networks, Mumford points to the potent redundancy in power and communications systems, specifically the electric grid and a regional library network, to argue that “only by diffusion and articulation can the whole system function efficiently. The further advantage of such networks is that they permit units of different size, not merely to participate, but to offer their unique advantages to the whole.”16 Diffusion generates not just more instances but also allows diversity of size, scale, and function, all of which, especially in an urban context, can help breed the kinds of qualities that uniform applications of systems tend to diminish. The coupling here of urban form with program and of infrastructural systems with cultural ones (e.g., electricity and books) is different from simply grafting a new system onto a previously established one and makes room for wider efficiency metrics. Such seemingly counterintuitive responses to infrastructural efficiency are exciting because they justify excess in design conditions that increasingly demand its elimination. The enjoyment and use of such excess could manifest in material, conceptual, and calculative ways through landscapes that offer multivalent uses rather than singular ones, through collective willingness to divert some portion of a resource toward shared instead of individual use, or through new ways of measur-

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8. Dana Cuff, “Architecture as Public Work,” in Infrastructure as Architecture: Designing Composite Networks, eds. Katrina Stoll and Scott Lloyd (Berlin: Jovis, 2010), 18–25.

9. Kate Ascher, The Works: Anatomy of a City (New York: Penguin Press, 2005).

10. Peter Galison, “War against the Center,” Grey Room, no. 4 (Summer 2001): 5–32; and Reinhold Martin, The Organizational Complex: Architecture, Media, and Corporate Space (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003).

11. Baran’s study was also influential in the development of packet-sharing technology, which contributed significantly to the development of the internet as we now know it.

12. Galison, “War against the Center,” 28.

13. Lewis Mumford, The City in History: Its Origins, Its Transformations, and Its Prospects (1961; New York: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1989), 424. The presumption that the city in history is a Western one notwithstanding, Mumford’s insights, as well as his emphasis on regionalism, remain relevant for a range of contexts.

14. Ibid., 425.

15. Ibid., 426.

16. Ibid., 566. See also Shannon Mattern, “Library as Infrastructure,” Places Journal (June 2014), https://placesjournal.org/ article/library-as-infrastructure/.

17. “Redundant (adj.) 1590s, from Latin redundantem (nominative redundans), present participle of redundare, literally ‘overflow, pour over; be over-full;’ figuratively ‘be in excess,’ from re- ‘again’ (see re-) + undare ‘rise in waves,’ from unda ‘a wave,’ from PIE *unda-, nasalized form of root *wed- (1) ‘water, wet’ (see water (n.1).” Online Etymology Dictionary, http://www.etymonline.com/index. php?term=redundant&allowed_in_frame=0.

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Project: From Boundary To Border

Sama El-Saket Renia Kagkou

The privatization of Jakarta’s waterfront has created a mix of isolated residential districts and industrial enclaves. Land reclamation projects have been steadily changing Jakarta’s coastline since the latter half of the 20th century. This process will accelerate over the next half century with the imminent construction of a major seawall and several more high-end residential district islands. A major canal flanked by highway and rail infrastructure marks the former transition from inland to coast and has become a nearly impassable barrier severing Jakarta’s connection with its coast. This project proposes an alternative waterfront corridor that will link MRT’s Phase II metro stops with existing public transit, addressing the separation of the neighborhoods on either side of the canal with the inclusion a linear park and a series of bridges that merge transit with recreation, transforming a debilitating boundary condition into a programmatically activated edge.

109 General plan of the project depicts Jakarta’s privatized waterfront alongside its transportation and canal infrastructure.

Project: From Boundary to Border

110 Top and bottom: The intervention aims to create a shared space, inviting the communities from the two sides of the canal to interact by introducing a school bridge that doubles as a transit hub.

111

Sama El-Saket, Renia Kagkou Top and bottom: The bridge offers public amenities on a monolithic scale and generates with its dramatic presence a sense of urbanity within its depleted surroundings. Slight sectional changes allow private and public spaces to coexist in one structure.

114 Heat map highlights areas of Jakarta’s most intense land subsidence pressures.

UNIT 05 Mark Jongman-Sereno Renia Kagkou

Land subsidence in Jakarta has become a rapidly growing concern as predictions for sea-level rise and recent urban flood events have highlighted the fact that Jakarta is sinking in places by up to 15 centimeters per year. The primary cause for the subsidence is localized water extraction for consumption and domestic needs. The extraction of water from the aquifer destabilizes underground hydraulic pressures, while the city’s massive weight compacts the soil from above.

Standard building practices within the city favor concrete construction developments, often with very large footprints.

Much of the subsidence pressure is most intense along Jakarta’s central spine, the Sudirman Corridor, where the financial and administrative heart of the city is concentrated. Future regulations and building practices must address the problem of subsidence or face potentially disastrous consequences.

115

Water and Subsidence

Altitudes Mass Rapid Transit (MRT) Jakarta Basin Aquifer Wall Subsidence Pressure 2014 Flood Inundation

117

Mark Jongman-Serano, Renia Kagkou Above and previous page: Growing pressures from the built environment contribute to the problem of land subsidence in Jakarta. Point wells pumping groundwater to the surface destabilize soil and hydraulic pressure below and contribute to the sinking, which is notably severe along Jakarta’s central spine, the Sudirman Corridor.

Water and Subsidence

118 Residential and high-rise tower-and-podium typologies, in this region constructed primarily of reinforced concrete, exert the most down­ward pressure on the land. The programs and uses of such com­plexes also tend to be extremely water intensive.

119

Mark Jongman-Serano, Renia Kagkou The pressures of land subsidence are not restricted to Jakarta.

This map shows the areas with the highest levels of water stress within the region.

Water and Subsidence

120 Top: Future regulations and policies that support development while taking into consideration the subsidence conditions of the metropolitan ground soil might include additional zoning rights in areas of low subsidence as well as maximum height restrictions in areas of high subsidence.

Bottom: Building technology and architectural forms can be designed to reduce the pressure of building on the ground.

Additionally, reducing site coverage will allow for soft engineering techniques that prevent flooding by absorbing water from precipitation and contributing to groundwater collection.

Following page: Map overlaying current land subsidence with topography.

121

Mark Jongman-Serano, Renia Kagkou

122

Anthony Acciavatti

Boring Wells in Jakarta

borewells have functioned as the irreplaceable technology to supply water for drinking, agriculture, and industry. In fact, the borewell is the great liberator of the topographic surface and the symbol of economic liberalization. It is a fantastic technology, precisely because of its differences from municipal water systems: it can be sunk almost anywhere, the pump is portable, it provides water on demand, and it is managed independently. The borewell transforms groundwater into infrastructure.

An inversion of the municipal plumbing system, the borewell is the thinnest, most inconspicuous structure to mark a site. With a minimal footprint and maximum draft of water, it creates undreamed-of independence and three-dimensional chaos. Whereas municipal piped networks inscribe sprawling linear forms to connect disparate spaces and often prove unreliable in the global south, borewells support diffuse and dense mosaics of urban settlement across the landscape.

The potential payoffs from studying this supposedly minor technology are very large, since nearly one-third of Indonesia’s

123

In a city like Jakarta, people rarely go looking for borewells—the common infrastructural element upon which much of the teeming metropolis has been built. And with good reason. The technology that helped the city grow is also causing it to sink faster than Venice.1 No wonder borewell owners and operators keep their extralegal equipment hidden from neighbors and government authorities. Ubiquitous yet clandestine, borewells deserve attention.

A borewell is a perforated metal or plastic pipe that, when combined with a diesel- or electric-powered pump, enables groundwater extraction. Also known as tube wells, these mechanized pumps are broadly categorized as either shallow wells or deep wells that are sunk between a 5 and 400 feet beneath the ground’s surface. Whereas in soft soils a shallow borewell may be drilled in a matter of hours by a few industrious souls using a hand-driven rotary drill, a deepwater borewell requires equipment like a mechanized rotary drill or jetting machine to reach deep aquifers.2 For nearly half a century, from the United States to India and from Syria to Indonesia,

By focusing on the changing position and importance of borewells, both in their everyday as well as legal and scientific uses, designers and scientists can redefine the borewell as a tool to observe and shape space.

It would be impossible to retrofit a centralized potable water network to a city with Jakarta’s scope and scale. Yet a reconceptualization of the borewell, along with water treatment infrastructure and designated areas to recharge aquifers, can assist in developing a new, deep sectional model of urban development in a monsoonal landscape. Such a deep sectional model would lead to a new scale of public works and of public space.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

Wendy Koch, “Could a Titanic Seawall Save This Quickly Sinking City?” National Geographic Online, December 10, 2015, http://news.nationalgeographic.com /energy/2015/12/151210-could-titanicseawall-save-this-quickly-sinking-city.

Portions of this text have been published elsewhere.

Asian Development Bank, Indonesia: Country Water Assessment (Manila: Asian Development Bank, 2016), 52.

Swati Chattopadhyay, Unlearning the City: Infrastructure in a New Optical Field (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012), 245.

See Iem Brown, ed., The Territories of Indonesia (London: Routledge, 2009), 82; and National Council for Public-Private Partnerships, Examples of Successful PublicPrivate Partnerships, vol. 19 (New York: United Nations Development Program, 2008), 193.

Asian Development Bank, Indonesia, 24.

Nate Berg, “Jakarta Is Sinking Itself Into the Ocean,” Atlantic CityLab, April 26, 2012, http://www.citylab.com/weather/2012/04 /jakartas-sinking-itself-ocean/1857/.

Boring Wells in Jakarta

124

urban population draws their daily drinking water from borewells. 3 Whether to provide drinking water for one thousand residents in a housing tower or for industrial production, borewells are not just substitutes for nature in terms of weather and climate, but also for the state in terms of nonexistent or unreliable municipal water systems. If, as historian Swati Chattopadhyay argues, “urban forms have a direct correlation with infrastructural norms,” then in the absence of nature and the state, Indonesian cities and towns as well as farms and homes share similar patterns of water extraction.4 The common strategies of deploying groundwater extraction in cities, towns, villages, and farms merit scrutiny.

Recent studies estimate that between 35 and 42 percent of residents in Jakarta draw their water from municipal water pipes. The remaining 58 to 65 percent either purchase water from vendors or draw from private groundwater.5 According to the Asian Development Bank, 45 percent of groundwater is contaminated by fecal coliform and 80 percent by Escherichia coli.6 With less than 5 percent of the population connected to a working sewer system, untreated wastewater, along with industrial effluents, infiltrate the groundwater system. Due to over extraction of aquifers by shallow and deep borewells, Jakarta suffers from some of the worst subsidence in the world.7 Coupled with monsoonal rains in a low-lying coastal area and a rate of urban growth that prohibits aquifer recharge, the city suffers from flooding. In other words, the groundwater resources on which the city of Jakarta rests are not only sinking due to the rate of extraction versus replenishment, but are also increasingly contaminated by the paucity of sewerage treatment infrastructure. The result is nothing short of a multidimensional tragedy of the commons.

The politics of groundwater access in Jakarta are inseparable from the history of class, land tenure, and public works. Because borewells and other privately operated pump infrastructures are inadequately regulated and monitored, their numbers, depth, and locations are next to impossible to ascertain. Attempting to count and locate all of these extralegal pumps is like attempting to plow the sea. And while economists and environmental scientists along with planners and development specialists have modeled the causes and effects of this tragedy, designers are uniquely poised to model new urban configurations that synthesize these findings and give them spatial dimension.

126

Project: Collective Meta-Structures

Cannon Ivers Mark Jongman-Sereno

Working within the existing model of development in Jakarta, this project introduces a model for private commercial development that challenges the scale of the megablock, suggesting that this existing archetype is not too large but, in fact, too small. Through the aggregation of multiple transit modes, this project provides a centralized intermodal transportation hub serving different demographics and social classes of the city through the introduction of pedestrian permeability within the developed megablock. Through an operational thickened section, horizontal continuity is created across multiple levels to establish a shared common space that mediates disparate scales, urban conditions, and spatial fragmentation. The vertical layering of collective space expands the ground onto which the city life of Jakarta can unfold.

127 A view of the project along the Sudirman Corridor shows largescale development punctuated by a multiplied ground below the surface, linking public, private, and transportation amenities within a collective framework.

LEVEL 4 // 30 m

Project: Collective Meta-Structures

128

LEVEL 2 // -8 m

LEVEL 1 // -14 m

Isometric and plan views show the multiplication of the subterranean structure and the organization of program throughout layers.

Detail plan view of ground level development and circulation.

129

Cannon Ivers, Mark Jongman-Sereno

LEVEL 3 // 0 m

Project: Collective Meta-Structures

130 Sectional perspective cuts show the extent of subterranean development in one of the most heavily built-out sections of Jakarta.

131

Cannon Ivers, Mark Jongman-Sereno A sectional perspective view shows layering of program, the Banjir Kanal, Sudirman Corridor, and the MRT.

134 Map shows daily traffic flow into Jakarta from neighboring municipalities within the megacity region.

UNIT 06 Xinhui Li Gaby San Roman de Bustinza

One of the most striking characteristics of Jakarta’s urban form is its lack of continuous systems, specifically road infrastructure. Highly fragmented and with little articulation across scales, the city grid relies on a few wide corridors to move the majority of its motorized traffic, regardless of speed and scale.

This is exemplified in the Sudirman Corridor. These research drawings explore how a better calibration between the different scales and speeds of traffic could help improve mobility along the corridor. Furthermore, they investigate how the introduction of the new metro line can serve as a foil to introduce a better pedestrian environment along key moments throughout the avenue.

135

Grids and Grains: Linear Fragmentation

HIGH-SPEED TRAFFIC

SUDIRMAN

CONNECTED RAILWAY STATIONS

STASIUN JAKARTAKOTA

DUKUH ATAS

CONNECTED BUS STATIONS

136

Grids and Grains: Linear Fragmentation

LOW-SPEED TRAFFIC

Above and following page: A diagram of the city’s central spine, the line along which the MRT will run, shows the city’s multiple scales of transportation infrastructure and the opportunities for development along intermodal hubs.

137

Xinhui Li, Gaby San Roman de Bustinza SUDIRMAN

BLOK M

DUKUH ATAS

139

Xinhui Li, Gaby San Roman de Bustinza Previous page: Hourly analysis of the daily traffic along the Sudirman Corridor superimposed with street widths and lane capacities.

Above: A series of cross sections depict the sectional condition of streets in Jakarta, including space for pedestrian circulation and the new MRT line.

140

Andres Sevtsuk

Public Space in a Polycentric Metropolis

and municipal governments—even three regional governments—connected together with a web of highways. Until recently public transit has been minimal, with most trips occurring by cars, motorcycles, and informal commercial minibuses known as angkots. The Dutch colonial legacy left behind a vibrant culture of bicycling and bicycle rickshaws, or becaks, used at the neighborhood scale, but their share of overall trips has diminished rapidly with the increase in motorized transportation.

Analogous to California, Indonesia lies on the “ring of fire” and faces a minor earthquake almost daily. The omnipresent hazard for disaster has historically made basements and multistory construction a rarity. Unlike Japan, where seismic forces of nature have been tamed through advanced construction technology, much of the construction work in Indonesia is manual, performed by untrained temporary workers. Brick and concrete remain the primary materials for new construction, rendering multistory structures vulnerable to tremors.

High-rises that have appeared in Jakarta, Surabaya, and other large cities in Indonesia

141

Jakarta confronts a visiting urban designer with a paradox. With over 30 million inhabitants, the center of one of the largest metropolitan areas in the world has no downtown. Buildings dotting the central parts of the city are mostly one or two stories high; occasional megablocks with highrise office towers and multistory shopping malls emerge from seemingly disparate locations, creating momentary enclaves of high-density built form, with little urban glue tying the developments together on foot. The lack of typological continuity among the high-rise blocks does not mean that Jakarta lacks density—with over 15,000 residents per square kilometer, it is in fact one of the densest megacities in the world—but it does suggest that Jakarta faces challenges when it comes to a critical ingredient of all urbanity: pedestrian-oriented public space, shared by all income, gender, and religious groups of the city. The recent construction of an underground metro line is about to change this.

Jakarta is a sprawling megacity, more similar to Los Angeles in its form than any neighboring city around it. The regional metropolis is an amalgamation of many towns

and other less profitable members of society are not always welcome.

A third category of public spaces is found in the city’s parks, or taman. Parks are very popular among working- and middle-class families and tend to fill up, especially after the tropical sun has set. Parks are used as playgrounds for kids, alfresco dining grounds for families, meeting places for the elderly, and gathering grounds for teenagers. Recent urban migrants from other parts of the country often land their first jobs as street vendors, offering goods and services in streets and city parks. But unlike in Western cities, visitors do not usually arrive at a park on foot, even if they happen to live or work nearby. For many, large roads and noisy traffic make taking a scooter or driving a car to the park a more attractive prospect than walking.

Parks, just like kampungs, tend to form islands of public space, surrounded by large arterial roads that disconnect pedestrians from destinations beyond their boundaries.

Jakarta is now building its first metro line, which promises to deliver significant improvements to public space in the car- and motorcycle-dominated metropolis. The first phase of the metro, slated for completion in 2017, runs north–south from Lebak Bulus to Kampung Bandan, passing through the Sudirman Corridor, the city’s most iconic road that links a number of government institutions and high-density commercial developments that flank its sides.

Experiences from other cities suggest that a high-capacity subterranean transit system could produce significant benefits for public space in Jakarta. First, by connecting upper-middle-class office districts, public institutions, and residential areas of the city, the metro is likely to attract ridership from multiple income groups who otherwise rarely encounter each other face to face.

If door-to-door travel times on the metro will be shorter than by car, which will almost certainly be the case in Jakarta, then even white-collar residents are likely to use the system to get to work. Just like in Paris or London, the metro could become the ultimate public realm for serendipitous encounters in Jakarta.

But perhaps more importantly, metros are pedestrian mobility systems par excellence, which rely on walking to and from stations to cover the first and last mile of the trip. This will likely create a significant increase in pedestrian activity around new stations—an energy that the Jakarta studio has focused on capturing. The built environment around the newly planned metro stations offers a unique opportunity to create truly public spaces in Jakarta. Unlike

Public Space in a Polycentric Metropolis

142

during the past decade have yet to prove their resilience against a serious quake.

Despite its low-rise urban form, Jakarta does have public spaces of great significance at the local scale. Kampungs, traditional urban villages that define Indonesian urbanism all over the country, offer fine-grain pedestrian-friendly networks of shared open space, used by many inner city residents. Lanes in kampungs operate as multifunctional streets—as access routes for their residents, as playgrounds for kids, as parking areas for scooters, complete with mobile vendors, makeshift eateries, shops, and occasional street markets. Residential structures in kampungs have traditionally faced front porches and balconies toward the street, creating a sense of community and security. Only select alleys or gangs pass through a kampung; others form private cul-de-sacs that are primarily used by the families that inhabit them. Often surrounded by multilane arterial roads that are difficult to cross, Jakarta’s urban kampungs offer green and safe oases that are worth improving and preserving in the 21st century. If Jakarta and other Indonesian cities manage to maintain and upgrade their kampungs, they might end up with attractive urban assets that resemble the Aoyama district in Tokyo or the back lanes of the Gangnam district in Seoul.

New forms of public space have also emerged in indoor shopping malls, which tend to be taller and larger than any comparable example in Western countries. Assembling land for urban development is a complex process in Indonesia, requiring endless negotiations with fragmented and multilayered owners, public regulators, and planners. When developers do manage to accumulate enough real estate for a mall and secure permits to build, land-supply constraints tend to be compensated by excessive scale on site. It is not uncommon for a shopping center to have nine levels of shops and at least as many floors of parking facing surrounding low-rise districts. Malls are not only used for shopping, but as all-purpose leisure, eating, and recreational spaces for family and business affairs alike. Their air-conditioning, predictable cleanliness, and pedestrian safety have made malls more preferable as free-time destinations than many of the loud and poorly maintained city streets. The latter have gradually lost their businesses and shop fronts as footfall on sidewalks has given way to motorized traffic. But public spaces in malls are ultimately private—governed by private regulations, enforced by private security. The urban poor, the improperly dressed, unattended children,

143

Andres Sevtsuk

kampungs, malls, and city parks, which make disparate islands of the public domain, such transit-oriented developments will be connected via the metro itself. This offers the residents of Jakarta the first opportunity to experience different parts of the city continuously on foot.

The studio projects have made bold attempts to imagine what these experiences might look and feel like. They have speculated about the urban redevelopment potential that could emerge as a result of a new transit system and detected opportunities that the city could capture.

But in order to achieve the greatest benefit from the emerging public realm that surrounds the metro, the city also needs to connect these ideas to the preexisting systems of kampungs, isolated high-rise megablocks, parks, and shopping malls, which already provide disconnected archipelagos of pedestrian public space throughout Jakarta. Capitalizing on these existing energies would not only generate higher ridership for the metro, but would open up far greater extents of the city on foot to form a necklace of places that jointly start producing a downtown.

144

Project: Collective Form—Beyond Geometry

Xinhui Li Ting Yin

Using the figure of a circle as a point of departure, this project explores how a simple geometry can be adapted to multiple and diverse urban sites across the new metro line. In each of the six interventions the circle acts as an elastic form with two main operations. On the one hand, the circle bridges road infrastructure and connects the new rail line with key locations around each stop. On the other hand, the circle establishes a new and much-needed set of spaces in the city for collective programs such as culture, education, and recreation. While each station has a unique configuration, the figure of the circle in each stop allows for a new iconography shared across the city, making the station an important visual element within the larger context of the subway system.

CONNECTION

800 m

700 m PEDESTRIAN BRIDGE - 1

PEDESTRIAN BRIDGE - 2

PEDESTRIAN BRIDGE - 3

CONNECTION + DESTINATION 600 m

BUS STATION - 1 + INFORMAL BUSINESS

BUS STATION - 2 + COMMERCIAL

RAILWAY STATION + LOCAL MARKET

500 m

MRT STATION - 1 + PARK

MRT STATION - 2 + PUBLIC LIBRARY

MRT STATION - 3 + RETAIL

400 m

300 m

PEDESTRIAN BRIDGE + FOOD COURT

PEDESTRIAN BRIDGE + OPEN STAGE + COMMERCIAL

MRT STATION - 4 + RETAIL

200 m

DESTINATION

100 m

100 m

ATHLETIC PARK

200 m

Distributions of typological elements within the projects respond nonhierarchically to a range of programmatic and circulation demands.

FINE ART CENTER

300 m

400 m

BOTANICAL GARDEN + RETAIL

500 m

600 m

145

COMMUNITY CENTER

0

SITE 1

SITE 2

SITE 3

PLAN

PERSPECTIVE

Above and following page: Plans and diagrams depicting the circular interventions in context.

Project: Collective Form—Beyond Geometry

146

CIRCULATION

SITE 5

147

Xinhui Li, Ting Yin

SITE 4 SITE 6

COMMERCIAL

RESIDENTIAL

COLLECTIVE SPACE

INDUSTRIAL

MASJID ISTIQLAL

GRAND INDONESIA

TAMAN ANGGREK

GELORA BUNG KARNO STADIUM

PORT OF TANJUNG PRIOK

GEREJA KATEDRAL

PLAZA INDONESIA

KALIBATA CITY

NATIONAL MONUMENT

PT. CLIKARANG LISTRINDO

DL. VETERAN

SMALL HOUSING

152

RELIGIOUS

Five dominant urban development types are identified within the city of Jakarta.

UNIT 07 Sama El-Saket Ting Yin

This line of research examines the scale and distribution of the most prominent urban development types throughout Jakarta. Organized by five discrete land-use types (religious, commercial, residential, recreational, and industrial), the work identifies the scale and distribution of the most dominant geometries in the city and their affiliated programs. The research clearly shows a city with developmental models that rely heavily on large-scale, single-footprint buildings that have little or no connection to their adjacencies. In recent decades, the rapid construction of global capital enclaves has created an extended and highly fragmented urban landscape with little or no street life.

153

Type and Collective Function: Key Urban Developments

Type and Collective Function: Key Urban Developments

154 Above and following page: Isometric views of six projects, depicting accessible public space in orange.

155

Sama El-Saket, Ting Yin

Type and Collective Function: Key Urban Developments

156 Above and following page: Isometric views of six projects, depicting accessible public space in orange.

157

Sama El-Saket, Ting Yin

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Christina Leigh Geros

Jakarta as Method: Shopping Malls, Streets, and Mosques

Act I Just before daybreak, the tenor of the Mu’adhan pierces the air through the loudspeaker.

Rising from a night’s sleep, a man looks to his left. His wife sleepily makes eye contact with him. Their young daughter’s head rests on her mother’s arm, soft against the hard tile floor. To the right, their teenage son clambers to a stand while reaching for his shirt.

Quietly dressing, father and son step out together. Thirty paces to the right, down the gravel road, past the small shop (not yet open) and three neighbors’ open doors, they slip off their shoes at the entrance of the kampung’s musholla (a small mosque) and climb the stairs to the “men only” space above. The man nods to acknowledge a neighbor as he enters.

The room already full, father and son join the others in prayer, all facing northwest toward Mecca. At roughly 100 square meters, the space feels intimate in the soft morning light, yet open in a way that the kampung street below had not been. Centered on each of the four walls is a large window looking out onto the city—onto the paved streets encircling the kampung.

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On its face, Jakarta appears to defy all norms and interpretations. The city is less a collection of defined spaces and elements than a web of intentions, resources, and movements, all born of the uncertainty of the next. It is a method of being.

As much a city as a means of dismantling the city, the spaces that most clearly define the relationship between time and space—often deceptive, sometimes concrete in form, and always measured in function—are those that serve the most people through the most varied means. Punctuating the city in moments of collective commerce, respite, and reflection— exposing while collapsing the socioeconomic and religious factions of the city—three types of public spaces give form to the collective of Jakarta: shopping malls, streets, and mosques.

In three acts, the movements and encounters of four representative characters from across Jakarta will explore the city’s public spaces as sites of the collective.

Distracted, the boy gazes out the window for a moment too long.

Father to Boy: (whispers) Pay no attention to the street. For now, we focus beyond the city.

By the end of prayer, the sun has risen to greet the day more fully. Women sweep the dust from their stoops and ready the day’s first cups of kopi and tea. Slowly men prepare vendor carts for the market and streets. It is early, but the day’s routine has begun.

A rooster crows.

Christina Leigh Geros (CLG): (suddenly awake) How many roosters can there be?!?

I live on the 30th floor . . . where are they?!?!

Father to Boy: (walking side by side) After school you will meet me at the stand, yes?

Approaching noon, traffic is slow, especially on Friday. The city slows—just a bit, the mosques and mushollas busy. Dotting every neighborhood, every tower, every mall, every office, people retreat from the day—from the city—and center themselves beyond the immediate.

CLG: (running through the lobby doors with arm raised) TAXI! CLG: (presses back of head against seat, closes eyes) “Why didn’t I listen to the rooster?

Act III Woman to Husband: Where shall we meet your business associates for dinner tonight?

Husband to Wife: Reservations have been made for the rooftop bar in the office tower.

Woman to Husband: Perfect. I will have the driver drop me off after my errands.

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CLG gets out of bed and turns off the alarm.

Act II The train ride into the center of the city can feel like an eternity. Especially when there is a delay.

The train has been sitting on the tracks outside of station for over one hour now.

A girl anxiously checks the time on her phone.

There is nothing to do but wait. Eventually, she will make it to the office. She makes plans to meet a friend at the mall after work.

Girl to Friend: (texts) Meet at the musholla on the third floor, next to Forever 21.

CLG: (getting into elevator) . . . if the elevator stops at the fifth floor, it’s too late.

The traffic will be terrible.

Elevator stops at the fifth floor. Six women squeeze into elevator, headed for the traditional mall below.

CLG: (peering past the women as they exit into the mall) . . . way too many people, way too much “stuff.”

It is almost noon when the train finally pulls into the station. Stepping off the train, men and women head towards the musholla . . . and others, the exit.

Noticing the musholla is packed, the girl decides to go to the office instead.

Lately, it has rained every afternoon. Today is no exception. Luckily, today she can accomplish all of her errands in one place. Her husband’s office is in a tower, above a mall, with a rooftop bar where they will meet for dinner. The food is hit or miss, but the view is impressive and exclusive.

Two girls stand, chatting and giggling, outside of the musholla on the third floor of the mall, next to Forever 21. A woman breezes past on her way in for prayer, while a teenage boy passes on his way out.

For all the reasons teenage boys like to walk through malls, the boy likes to take his prayer next to Forever 21 before meeting his father at the vendor stand outside. Selling traditional saté, his father has held the same vendor space for as long as he can remember—before the mall had been completed, in fact.

CLG: (walking and texting) Is it still raining? Want to meet at the juice place?

Girl to Friend: (walking through the mall) Should we grab dinner here or outside?

Friend to Girl: Oooh . . . I love this noodle place near the intersection.

Eight lanes of traffic circle the mall on all sides.

Extending via sky bridge to cover two city blocks, the mall is a six-story-high stack of activities and commerce. Resembling a street market, the sky bridge doubles as a food court, three floors high

Jakarta as Method

Boy to Father: Yes, father.

and connected by a series of atriums, escalators, and mirrors.

A live band is playing in the west mall lobby.

Girl to Friend: Is that the same band you were telling me about? From Malaysia?

CLG to Girl: (distracted and in a Portmanesque lobby-trance, stumbles into a girl) Oh, I’m so sorry! Excuse me.

Girl to CLG: It’s OK. Sorry . . . you dropped your phone?

CLG to Girl: Yes, thank you!

Friend to Girl: Um, yeah . . . I think it is the same band. Are you hungry yet? I’m starving.

Seeing a girl standing under the awning of the mall, the teenage boy runs over with an umbrella.

CLG to Friend: (walking up to juice stand) Ah! Good to see you! Have you been waiting long?

Friend to CLG: (pulling up two seats, facing the street) Not at all. I was caught up in the dancing dangdut parade!

Suddenly noticing they are now sitting at side-byside tables, three girls exchange smiles.

A steady stream of cars, motorbikes, and pedestrians roll past the tightly packed food stalls and tables. All a little too close for comfort, it is difficult to separate through-traffic from market traffic.

A black SUV causes a traffic jam; a teenage boy runs up to the window with a package.

Husband to Boy: (exchanging cash for package through window) Ah, thank you so much! Tell your father I appreciate it!

The rain stops. The band plays. People gather.

Boy to CLG: Miss, where do you go? I will take you . . .

Even in the rain, the streets are full of activity.

Between the mall and the southbound traffic, groups of people gather—young and old—talking, laughing, and resting. The canal divides the southbound and northbound lanes with street vendors lining each side. Beyond the northbound lanes, another row of vendors occupies a wider, but less regular, stretch of ground.

Boy to CLG: (hand out to stop the traffic) Cross here?

Melodic bells of a dangdut band dance around the sounds of raindrops and honking cars.

Husband to Wife: The food was terrible tonight. We must stop on the way home.

Woman to Husband: Sure. Where shall we tell the driver to stop?

Husband to Wife: Pak Saté. He knows the place. Always there, always good. You can depend on it.

Some vendors have tables and chairs, and some do not. Some are covered by an awning, and some are not. They are all, however, busy serving customers.

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Christina Leigh Geros

CLG to Boy: OK, sure. Just to the juice stand.

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Project: Nested Symbiotic Platform

Gaby San Roman de Bustinza

This project takes the bustling market of Blok M as the basis for a new type of collective space for Jakarta. The main operation is the reorganization of the existing bus station into a new intermodal hub that links the local and regional bus with the area’s new metro station. The project expands the transportation hub into a mixed-use project through the introduction of a shaded linear park that accommodates a variety of new programmatic elements. The placing of the park above the partially sunken bus station is an essential move in the project, as it simultaneously endows the space with both a popular and a monumental quality. Furthermore, an elevated linear canopy marks the park space, providing an indispensable element for outdoor public life in Jakarta: shade.

163 Northwest isometric view of the project shows a monumental linear slab that combines and connects public open space, commerce, and transit.

Volatile

Fix Food

Sport Kids play -ground

Sport Entertainment

Kids Play ground

Street Food

Street Food

Food

Access Blok M Department

Public Library Community Center

Store Entertainment

MRT Station

Street Fair

Street Fair Expo

Pasar Street Market

Pasar Street Market

Public Library Community center

BUS Station

Entertainment

MRT Station

Store

BUS Station

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

11

12

13

14

Parking

BUS Station

Blok M

10

Expo

Park

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

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Project: Nested Symbiotic Platform

0

MRT Station

Department

Recognizing the preexistence of a vibrant public life and 24-hour program, the project seeks to retain and enhance these conditions with expanded collective space and access to public transit.

Service

Service

Service

Retail Retail

Retail

Service

Retail

Retail

Retail

Retail

Service

Retail

Service

Gallery Auditorium Or theater Food

Service

Retail

Service

Retail

Food

Service

Retail Gallery

RETAIL

Service

Service

Stage Underground Auditorium Or theater

Service

Waiting bus

Service Deposit

Service

Art Gallery

PARKING

EXIT

BRT ENTRAN

Bus stop

Food Shop

CE

Service Gallery

Food Shop Service

Food

PARKING EXIT Learning center -Community center / Institution

Waiting bus

RETAIL

Service

RETAIL

Service

Service

Service

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Gaby San Roman de Bustinza

Service

PARKING ENTRAN CE

Motor bike Motor bike

Motor bike

PARKING EXIT

Motor bike

Plan depicts the circulation and program of the platform on multiple levels.

Motor bike

Motor bike

Motor bike

Motor bike

Motor bike

Motor bike

Fix

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Project: Nested Symbiotic Platform

Volatile

A combination of fixed and volatile programs provides opportunities for a multifunctional approach to transit-oriented development along the site.

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Gaby San Roman de Bustinza Sectional perspective of the platform depicts the project in context, highlighting multiple levels of engagement.

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Contributors

Anthony Acciavatti Anthony Acciavatti is a historian, cartographer, and architect. He is the author of Ganges Water Machine: Designing New India’s Ancient River (2015; awarded the 2016 John Brinckerhoff Jackson Book Prize), the first comprehensive mapping and history of India’s Ganges River basin in half a century. He teaches at Columbia University in New York City.

Lorena Bello Lorena Bello is a lecturer at MIT’s Department of Architecture, where she teaches the design of the built environment, ranging from the scale of the object and buildings to that of the city and larger territories. Her research focuses on large-scale territorial implications of infrastructure and urbanization as catalysts for design. She examined this topic in her PhD dissertation, “Hybrid Networks,” (2015), under the guidance of Manuel de Solà-Morales and Joan Busquets.

Felipe Correa Felipe Correa, a New York–based architect and urbanist, is associate professor and director of the Urban Design Program at the Harvard University Graduate School of Design. Correa is the author of multiple books including Beyond the City: Resource Extraction Urbanism in South America (2016). He also cofounded Somatic Collaborative, a researchbased design practice that focuses on a transscalar approach to architecture and urbanism.

Somatic has developed design projects and consultancies with the public and private sectors in multiple cities and regions across the globe.

Devin Dobrowolski Devin Dobrowolski holds a master of landscape architecture with distinction from the Harvard University Graduate School of Design and is currently a candidate for a master of architecture from Princeton University. Prior to joining the fields of urbanism and design, Devin worked as a documentary and environmental filmmaker.

Jesse LeCavalier Jesse LeCavalier is assistant professor of architecture at the New Jersey School of Architecture at NJIT. He is the author of The Rule of Logistics: Walmart and the Architecture of Fulfillment (2016) and a recipient of the 2015 New Faculty Teaching Award from the Association of the Collegiate Schools of Architecture.

Mohsen Mostafavi An architect and educator, Mohsen Mostafavi is dean of the Harvard University Graduate School of Design and the Alexander and Victoria Wiley Professor of Design. His recent publications include Ecological

Urbanism (coeditor, 2010); In the Life of Cities (2012); Architecture Is Life (2013); Nicholas Hawksmoor: The London Churches (2015); and the forthcoming Ethics of the Urban: The City and the Spaces of the Political.

Andres Sevtsuk Andres Sevtsuk is assistant professor of urban planning at Harvard University Graduate School of Design. Author of the Urban Network Analysis toolbox, he has led various international research projects; exhibited his research at TEDx, the World Cities Summit, and the Venice Biennale; and received the President’s Design Award in Singapore, International Buckminster Fuller Prize, and Ron Brown/Fulbright Fellowship.

Clayton Strange Clayton Strange is a teaching associate at the Harvard University Graduate School of Design, where he holds a master of architecture in urban design with distinction. A US-registered architect, he is the recipient of the 2015 Druker Traveling Fellowship and has worked on projects in the United States, South Korea, and China.

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Christina Leigh Geros Christina Leigh Geros is a Fulbright National Geographic Digital Storytelling Fellow based in Jakarta. Trained as an architect, landscape architect, and urban designer, she has been documenting, depicting, and mapping stories from across the city that help to bring space into a dialogue with time, politics, and ecology.

Colophon

Jakarta: Models of Collective Space for the Extended Metropolis Instructors Felipe Correa Clayton Strange Teaching Assistant Devin Dobrowolski Report Editors Devin Dobrowolski Clayton Strange Report Design Devin Dobrowolski Collaborators Meric Ozgen Trax Wang A Harvard University Graduate School of Design Publication Dean and Alexander and Victoria Wiley Professor of Design Mohsen Mostafavi Editor in Chief Jennifer Sigler Publications Coordinator Meghan Sandberg Editorial Support Krista Sykes Marielle Suba Series design by Laura Grey and Zak Jensen ISBN 978-1-934510-59-9 Copyright Š 2017, President and Fellows of Harvard College. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the Harvard University Graduate School of Design.

Acknowledgments The authors would like to thank Dean and Alexander and Victoria Wiley Professor of Design Mohsen Mostafavi, and Urban Planning and Design Department Chair Diane Davis for the opportunity to teach this studio. We are also grateful to Sean Chiao, president of AECOM APAC, for sponsoring the studio, along with Nancy Lin, Sibarani Sofian, and Sacha Schwarzkopf for their ongoing support over the course of the semester. Special thanks are also due to Governor Basuki Tjahaja Purnama and his wife Veronica Tan for their support and for making possible the exhibition of the work at the Jakarta City Hall.

We would also like to express our gratitude to Zenin Adrian and Brad Quigley for arranging the alumni event during our trip to Jakarta, and finally to AECOM staff members at large and, in particular, Putri Kusumawardhani, Bianca Martano, and Lala Trivianti for all their efforts.

This research was sponsored by AECOM. Image Credits Cover: Andrew Boyd and Michael Keller Exhibition/model photography: Justin Knight Pages 18–20; 33: Clayton Strange The editors have attempted to acknowledge all sources of images used and apologize for any errors or omissions.

Harvard University Graduate School of Design 48 Quincy Street Cambridge, MA 02138 publications@gsd.harvard.edu gsd.harvard.edu

Harvard GSD Department of Urban Planning and Design

Studio Report Spring 2016

Students Andrew Boyd, Devin Dobrowolski, Sama El-Saket, Cannon Ivers, Mark Jongman-Sereno, Renia Kagkou, Michael Keller, Xinhui Li, Thomas Niderรถst, Gaby San Roman de Bustinza, Max Sell, John Wray IV, Ting Yin

ISBN 978-1-934510-59-9

9 781934 510599

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