(EN)
In 1990, this plot of land in West Jakarta was far from an ideal blank canvas. Its condition, as people colloquially say, was akin to a godforsaken dumping ground, featuring a downward-sloping contour. The area was originally purchased out of a lack of options and limited funds. Before becoming the library it is today, this place carried a long, dusty history: serving as a workers’ quarters, a tool warehouse, and a carpentry workshop for the generation preceding RAW Architecture, always overflowing with tools and piles of materials. When this land was eventually inherited, we didn’t just receive a plot of earth; we inherited all the chaos within it, from the aging structure of the workers’ mess and the placement of the old septic tank to the remnants of leftover materials.
The grand question at the time was not how to create a magnificent new building, but rather, where do we begin tidying all this up?
When we were about to renovate the place for the second time, there was one undeniable reality on the ground: life was already happening there. A trusted craftsman and his family had settled down and acted as the caretakers of the place for a long time. They couldn’t relocate during the renovation, nor did they want to. It was at this exact point that architecture was truly put to the test. The ego of pristine design had to be dismantled, replaced by negotiations that prioritized the continuity of life.
The renovation ultimately proceeded without completely demolishing the original structure; instead, it crept along slowly, executed in 10-square-meter increments. Because the family remained on-site during construction, the primary goal was never about tearing down walls, but rather racking our brains to figure out how to roof the spaces within a week to keep them safe from the sweltering heat and rain. Hanging clotheslines, small bridges, and scattered staircases were all spatial compromises born out of pressing circumstances, created not merely to establish circulation, but to respect the privacy and living space of its inhabitants. Consequently, the floor plan organically grew into narrow corridors that evoke the sensation of navigating the dense alleys of a Jakarta kampung.
From the very beginning, the materials used were far from luxurious; they were pieced together from whatever was left over. Plywood scraps, wood offcuts, down to salvaged zinc and bricks from other projects were repurposed. We relied heavily on plywood because it could be acquired gradually in installments, assembling it into 12-millimeter-thick, triple-layered shell structure modules. These modules, measuring 1.2 by 2.4 meters, were dictated by available dimensions and a negotiation with the vulnerabilities of salvaged materials, ensuring the structure remained rigid and unwavering.
In the most recent renovation, the skilled hands of our fellow craftsmen went back to work. Instead of replacing the old with entirely new structures, the builders wrapped the existing glulam columns in brick. This move married the lightness of laminated wood with the robust solidity of a brick structure. In other areas, new structures were intentionally erected at a distance from the old ones, yet both mutually support each other in programmatic unity.
In its final scheme, although it no longer functions as a carpentry workshop, the space has taken on several new roles. Approximately 63 square meters are dedicated as a private living area for the craftsman’s family, 89 square meters are divided into 11 employee boarding rooms, and 167 square meters serve as a public library area. We also implemented bioclimatic strategies to maintain a comfortable indoor temperature around 27 degrees Celsius, including allocating specific spots as pocket gardens.
Interestingly, upon closer inspection, the ground floor is deliberately paved with ceramic tiles typically used for bathrooms, complete with floor drains in the corners near the piano and columns. This is no coincidence. It is a silent preparation so that one day, should this space ever need to revert to a workshop, everything is ready and easily washable.
The name Boboto itself is inspired by the meticulous diligence of stacking bricks, a reminder that the process of assembling is far more vital than merely achieving a beautiful end result. Ultimately, this building is not truly finished, and perhaps it never will be. There are still dreams queuing up to be realized: a roof waiting to be thickened for better cooling, and a west-facing facade near the garage still waiting its turn to be enclosed. Guha Boboto is not a statically perfect building on paper; rather, it is an organism that continuously assembles itself between dreams and reality. It is a place where craftsmanship, piles of leftover materials, and the lives of its inhabitants continue to grow and age together.
(IDN)
Tahun 1990, lahan di Jakarta Barat ini jauh dari bayangan kanvas kosong yang ideal. Kondisinya, orang bilang, mirip tempat jin buang anak, dengan kontur tanah yang menurun. Kawasan ini awalnya dibeli karena keterbatasan pilihan dan dana. Sebelum menjadi perpustakaan seperti yang terlihat sekarang, tempat ini memikul sejarah yang panjang dan berdebu: mulai dari mes pekerja, gudang alat, sampai bengkel ketukangan dari generasi sebelum RAW Architecture yang selalu penuh sesak dengan alat dan tumpukan material. Ketika lahan ini akhirnya diwariskan, kami tidak hanya menerima sepetak tanah, tetapi juga mewarisi seluruh kekacauan di dalamnya, mulai dari struktur mes yang tua, letak septic tank lama, sampai sisa-sisa material peninggalan.
Pertanyaan besarnya saat itu bukan bagaimana membuat bangunan baru yang megah, melainkan dari mana kami harus mulai merapikan ini semua.
Saat hendak merenovasi tempat ini untuk kedua kalinya, ada satu realitas di lapangan yang tidak bisa diabaikan: di sana sudah ada kehidupan. Seorang tukang kepercayaan beserta keluarganya sudah lama menetap dan menjaga tempat itu. Mereka tidak bisa pindah selama renovasi, dan memang tidak mau pindah. Di titik inilah arsitektur benar-benar diuji. Ego desain yang serba bersih harus diturunkan, diganti dengan negosiasi yang mengutamakan kelangsungan hidup.
Renovasi akhirnya berjalan tanpa membongkar habis struktur asli, melainkan merayap perlahan, dikerjakan per 10 meter persegi. Karena keluarga ini tetap tinggal di sana selama konstruksi, target utamanya sama sekali bukan merobohkan dinding, melainkan putar otak bagaimana menutup atap dalam waktu seminggu agar mereka tetap aman dari panas dan hujan. Jemuran yang digantung, jembatan kecil, dan tangga-tangga yang tersebar, semuanya hasil kompromi ruang di tengah himpitan keadaan, dibuat bukan sekadar untuk membangun sirkulasi, melainkan juga untuk menghormati privasi dan ruang gerak penghuninya. Konsekuensinya, denah bangunan ini tumbuh menjadi lorong-lorong sempit yang mengingatkan pada sensasi menyusuri gang-gang padat di kampung Jakarta.
Sejak awal, material yang dipakai jauh dari kata mewah, ia dirakit dari apa yang tersisa. Potongan triplek sisa, kayu sambungan, sampai seng dan bata bekas proyek diberdayakan ulang. Kami banyak mengandalkan triplek karena ketersediaannya bisa dicicil pelan-pelan, merakitnya menjadi modul struktur cangkang setebal 12 mm yang dilapis tiga. Modul ini berukuran 1,2 x 2,4 meter, angka yang lahir dari ketersediaan dimensi dan negosiasi dengan kelemahan material sisa, agar struktur tetap kaku dan tidak goyang.
Pada renovasi terbaru, tangan-tangan terampil kawan-kawan tukang kembali bekerja. Alih-alih mengganti dengan struktur baru, para tukang membungkus kolom-kolom glulam dengan bata. Langkah ini mengawinkan ringannya kayu laminasi dengan kekokohan struktur bata. Di titik lain, struktur baru sengaja didirikan berjarak dari struktur lama, tetapi keduanya saling mendukung dalam kesatuan program.
Pada skema akhirnya, walau sudah tidak lagi menjadi workshop tukang, tempat ini memiliki beberapa fungsi baru. Sekitar 63 meter persegi didedikasikan untuk area privat tempat tinggal keluarga tukang, 89 meter persegi dibagi menjadi 11 unit indekos karyawan, serta 167 meter persegi untuk area perpustakaan publik. Kami juga menerapkan strategi bioklimatik untuk menjaga suhu di dalam tetap bersahabat di kisaran 27 derajat, di antaranya dengan mengalokasikan beberapa titik lahan sebagai pocket garden.
Menariknya, kalau diperhatikan, lantai di area bawah sengaja dipasangi keramik yang umum dipakai untuk kamar mandi, lengkap dengan floor drain di sudut-sudut dekat piano dan kolom. Ini bukan kebetulan. Ini persiapan sunyi agar suatu saat nanti, kalau ruang ini perlu kembali menjadi bengkel kerja, semuanya sudah siap dan mudah dibersihkan.
Nama Boboto sendiri terinspirasi dari ketekunan proses menyusun bata, sebuah pengingat bahwa proses merakit jauh lebih penting daripada sekadar hasil akhir yang cantik. Pada akhirnya, bangunan ini belum benar-benar selesai, dan mungkin tidak akan pernah selesai. Masih ada angan yang mengantre untuk diwujudkan: atap yang ingin dipertebal supaya semakin sejuk, fasad sisi barat arah garasi yang masih menunggu gilirannya ditutup. Guha Boboto bukanlah bangunan statis yang sempurna di atas kertas, melainkan organisme yang terus merakit dirinya sendiri di antara angan dan kenyataan. Sebuah tempat di mana teknik ketukangan, tumpukan sisa material, dan kehidupan penghuninya terus tumbuh dan menua bersama.
April 9, 2025
