Sustainable Asian House. Paul McGillick
the epicentres of the global economy, at least until the recent emergence of china and India as economic powerhouses, were still the former colonial capitals.
Colonialism can be viewed as an early form of globalization. It may have lacked the communications technology which now enables instantaneous communication throughout the world, the means of transport available may have been slower and more primitive, and the goods being traded may have been different, but the motivation was largely economic. While there were undoubtedly exceptions, it was usually a case of the flag following trade, with colonial rule evolving to protect the colonialists’ economic interests. Colonialism was, in fact, itself part of a broader phenomenon. It must be remembered that thailand was never colonized. Nor was Japan. China, while it may have been commercially bullied by the West, with the exception of several foreign enclaves situated in seaports, continued to govern itself. Yet, these countries, as much as those that were colonized, engaged with an international economy, adopted many Western cultural mores and, especially in the capital cities and seaports, became increasingly ‘Westernized’.
This introduction is not the place to expand any further on these issues. Nor do I wish to comprehensively discuss the recent evolution of the tropical Southeast Asian house. Robert Powell’s books (the key ones are listed in the Select Bibliography at the end of this book) do this with far more authority than I can offer, as does Amanda Achmadi’s fluent overviews of modern Indonesian architecture in 25 Tropical Houses in Indonesia (2006) and Houses for the 21st Century (2004).
I mention these matters mainly to show that things are a lot more complex than is sometimes suggested, but also to establish a slightly different context in which to discuss the houses selected for this book.
WHAT THIS BOOK IS ABOUT
When you see the word ‘sustainable’ in the title you will assume that we are looking at houses which are sustainable in the sense that they minimize their impact on their immediate physical environment as well as minimize their use of non-renewable resources (energy and materials) in the building and running of those houses—with the implication that they do so in a way that still enables a comfortable way of life and provides for the needs of a diverse range of inhabitants. You are right in this assumption. But the scope of the book is greater than that.
The Party House in Sentosa, Singapore (page 128), is a collection of coloured glass boxes designed to bring people together.
The Carphenie House in Kuala Lumpur (page 42) brings green space inside its bold, circular entry void, which is open to the sky.
‘… in this book I look at houses not just from the environmentally sustainable point of view, but also from the personal, social and cultural points of view.’
What we now call sustainability we used to call ecology. ‘Ecology’ may have been rather inexact, but it was very useful as a term because it drew attention to the world as an ecology, that is, a system in which all the constituent parts exist in relation to one another, and where any change to one part of the system will affect all the other parts.
Therefore, in this book I look at houses not just from the environmentally sustainable point of view, but also from the personal, social and cultural points of view. Hence, there are houses which are interesting mainly because of the environmental strategies employed. But there are others which are interesting for the ways in which, say, they sustain the extended family in the context of the ‘global village’. Or they may aim to sustain cultural traditions, including crafts, which are increasingly under threat.
The 27 houses featured in the book have also been carefully selected to show how architecture is responding to changing demographics in Southeast Asian societies. With ever-accelerating urbanization as a result of both urban drift and natural population increase, and with new professions emerging all the time, there is a need for a wide range of accommodation in order to sustain changing lifestyles. For example, in contrast to their parents, a younger generation working in new professions may live by themselves or as childless couples and be keen to stay close to all the action associated with urban centres. The growing middle class is also producing smaller families, replacing the large families of the past and accordingly requiring different kinds of accommodation.
The point is that a home is the most crucial way in which we sustain ourselves. to be homeless is to live an unsustainable life. Not only do we all need a home, we all want one that will sustain us in our chosen way of life. But this sustainability is an integral part of an ecosystem. One aspect is how we live with the climate in a rational and responsible way. But it is just as important to put in place strategies which, for example, sustain the family, whether it be the nuclear family or the extended family, taking into account the differing needs of parents, children and grandparents, as well as their broader social needs. Often this is an issue of reconciling privacy and community. In the societies of Southeast Asia, community has traditionally taken precedence over privacy. However, with the super-charged growth of the technological global economy, demographics are changing and a new generation is demanding more privacy, but not necessarily at the cost of community. Hence, the question becomes: How do we design dwellings and their urban context so that the inhabitants can enjoy higher levels of privacy without losing that sense of familial and social community which has sustained tropical Asian communities in the past?
these are serious issues which contemporary architects are charged with addressing. But, at times in this book, I am also a little tongue in cheek. The Party House on Sentosa Island in Singapore may, for example, seem an unlikely inclusion in such a book, being a house devoted solely to having parties. But, apart from being a splendid piece of residential architecture, it does serve a genuinely sustainable purpose by sustaining social relations, and it does so in a remarkably imaginative way.
SUSTAINABLE LIVING IN THE TROPICS
The current preoccupation with environmentally sustainable domestic architecture in the tropics could lead us to overlook the fact that this has been going on for a long time, probably as long as human beings have lived in tropical climates. Vernacular architecture has long employed a variety of strategies to cope with a hot, humid climate. While different regions throughout Southeast Asia may have developed different characteristics, they also have a lot in common. High pitched roofs, wide eaves, air vents, timber shutters or blinds, courtyards, elevation off the ground and tiled flooring are some typical climate control strategies used in different ways throughout the region.
Vernacular forms evolved usually in response to demographic shifts, including immigration and colonization. The shophouse is a good example. It is found throughout the region, from thailand to Indonesia, in a variety of forms. Initially an imported phenomenon, it has been in Southeast Asia long enough to have become part of the urban vernacular. Its commercial function helped its environmental agenda. By locating the business at the front and domestic living in the centre and back of the building, a buffer from the sun was automatically provided for the inhabitants. Commonly, an internal courtyard and air-well provided further protection as well as generating air circulation. After losing many shophouses to demolition in the post-war development push, they are now often protected, and certainly sought after for their urban location and their potential for reinvention. The reworked shophouse is sustainable on a number of levels: it avoids demolition and rebuilding, it offers an existing programme of climate abatement, and it is a way of sustaining cultural heritage. At the same time, it exudes character. Sensitively handled, the reinvented shophouse provides a distinctive private home for contemporary living.
‘… contemporary climate-responsive Southeast Asian architecture is part of an ongoing evolution….’
The bungalow (from the Hindustani word bangala) is another imported form, brought to the Straits Settlements by British colonialists and evolving in a variety of ways, including the black-and-white house. Julian davison lists their climate abatement strategies: the timber and atap (thatch) upper storey absorbed heat slowly and protected the masonry ground floor, often tiled, from the heat; there was further