A collective of designers who love to travel… sharing their journeys…..
Here’s a small photostory from a bird’s perspective of the magical tropical island nation of Maldives. Through these aerial images I feel you can understand best how the country got its name – “Maldives” most likely derives from the Tamil words Maalai (garland / necklace) and Theevu (island) – (Maala Divaina, ‘Necklace Islands’).
All photos © Sahil Latheef | Photos shot using a DJI Mavic Pro drone camera
Sri Lankan architecture, is as diverse in its spectrum as anywhere else in the world and yet it is unique in its singular approach to the appropriation of nature. Historically one can see how closely the built form and planning integrates with its natural topography, vegetation and water, using each natural element as opportunity rather than as impediment. Travelling through the island, whether visiting the UNESCO world heritage site of Sigiriya, the pre-historic caves of Dambulla, Geoffrey Bawa’s Kandalama or architect Palinda’s recent projects you can’t help but remark how it is impossible to judge any of these works through binary abstractions; such as inside-outside, form-landscape, envelope-materiality etc; since each of these embodies these binaries as integral to the other.
The landscape traditions in Sri Lanka, have a documented history of more than two thousand five hundred years, and one can discover these through the information enshrined in the archaeological remains which continue to inform the practices of architecture and landscape. Sigiriya; the 5th Century fortified city is considered by scholars to be the oldest and most well preserved city in Sri Lanka. It was laid out along a symmetrical east- west axis and the natural elements on site were respectfully balanced in their asymmetry. The city was integrated into its hilly topography by creating terraces, pathways, waterways, city walls, moats, open spaces and vegetation. Perhaps the large rock outcrops, that cannot be penetrated by an enemy, informed the main criteria for the selection of the site for designing a fortified city with the royal residence on the summit. Termed as the ‘boulder garden’ by archaeologist Senake Bandarnayake to describe the incorporation of rocky outcrops and natural landscape into the formal compositions of buildings and it is this trope that continues through in our readings of Sri Lankan architecture across scales.
In Sigiriya, the ascending axial path was integrated in between a natural arch formed by two large boulders leaning on one another. This not only underlines the entrance, which was considered as sacred in Sinhalese architecture but since one ascends through the gap using steps it also calls out the element of the flight of steps that are used as a device to navigate between terraces. Man-made ponds are used as a definitive element in the gardens of Sigiriya, not just as diversion but also to store water and influence the micro climate in the dry-zone. And finally as ubiquitous as they appear the retaining walls made from burnt clay bricks in lime or clay mortar, plastered and then lime washed were built at Sigiriya to create the extensive terraces and boundary walls. Buddhist traditions, mandated that monks may live in forest groves or rock shelters found in rocky hills identified as Viharas and the Dambulla rock cut cave temples provide a religious reference to the landscape traditions of the ‘boulder gardens’. The Dambulla caves are more primitive and natural as far as human intervention is considered, while at Sigiriya one can see the deliberate and yet seamless integration of architecture. This argument is further extended when one looks at the Kandalama project by Geoffrey Bawa, situated proximally to the above mentioned projects, which perhaps provided the inspiration.
At Kandalama, to say that Bawa’s architecture disappears into the landscape is perhaps stating the obvious. He situates the building by using the terrain to his advantage in section. Bawa, brings nature into sharp focus with how he attaches the building to the rocks. Borrowing from tradition, its as if he grows the building around the natural elements, as seen in how the stone rubble entrance steps, made in situ, wrap around the rock outcrops. As one walks through the cave like corridor that is built into live rock, one can see the homage that Bawa intends to the boulder-arch entrance at Sigiriya and this is brought more into focus when seen against the white wall that curves around the boulders. Moreover from a distance the entire building appears like a retaining wall that is grown over with ground cover, in effect mimicking the retaining walls that hold terraces, as witnessed in Sigiriya. From a birds eye view it would seem like the various infinity swimming pools are catchments of rain levelling into the big lake in the distance.
Given Sri Lanka is an Island it’s people have an integral relationship to water and one can see that in historic examples and in quotidian life. Water was perhaps the most important organizing element in the traditional landscapes created in the dry-zone area of the country. Palinda Kannangara’s studio and home is also situated alongside of a waterway in Colombo, facing lush vegetation and is surrounded by paddy fields in the distance. While the building consistently frames views of the water, water also inhabits the building in between the outer brick wall and inner concrete wall helping to adjust the microclimate. The building at first appears to be a brutalist, modernist box that possibly overwhelms the immediate context but internally the openness of the building breaks down the volume continually connecting the inside to the outside. Upon entering one encounters a large flight of steps, made of reclaimed cobbles from a mountain tea plantation, which leads one to the piano noble. The steps are held between two stark concrete walls that culminate in a large fenestration and are a direct allusion to the boulder-arch of Sigiriya. The scale of the opening and the amount of light that is modulated through creates the exact affect of being within the cavernous spaces of the Dambulla Viharas. In section it doesn’t seem like one is ascending floor plates but rather going from one terrace to the next as in Sigiriya. A created topography through the building is augmented by the large double height windows that allow one to be connected to the outside in perpetuity. As one reaches the apartment level in the building it would seem like one has ascended to a promontory and this is augmented by the biological ponds on the balconies.
The house for the artist by Kannangara, is perhaps even more porous. While trajectory and movement in the studio is non-axial and circumambulatory in the artists’ house it is axial. One enters the house to either descend the large flight to the kitchen and studio space or ascends the narrow axial flight, again reminiscent of the boulder-arch to the private spaces of the bedrooms. But the space of the artist’s house and the central courtyard is dominated by the large flight of rubble stone stairs that descends from the living room to take advantage of the site section. Looking back up from the kitchen, one views the living room as one would view the terraces on the large rock at Sigiriya. The living spaces above which the sleeping spaces are suspended have no doors or windows and the building doesn’t so much as allow nature in as it simply cocoons a small existing bit of it between high boundary walls. No mention of the two projects is complete without mentioning Varna Shashidhar’s landscape design. The interlocking courtyards that allow light and rainfall into the lower spaces have been planted with indigenous species and the biological pond on the upper level reinforces the connection between Sinhalese architecture and water. A very superficial reading of both projects reveals modernist boxes but a closer reading leads one to see the nuances of historic traditions of Sri Lankan architecture that persist in the works of even contemporaries like Kannangara.
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All photos © Sahil Latheef
A version of this post appeared in the Dec '18 issue of Domus India.
Updated: Aug 6, 2020
Utopia literally means ‘No Place’, but it has come to signify an imagined perfect place that one can only aspire to. What earns the tiny nation of Bhutan, the sobriquet of ‘the last Shangri-la’ then? That imaginary place where everything is pleasant and you can get whatever you want, or perhaps as the citizens interpret it… you want whatever you can get? For the one thing that characterized the conversations with the Bhutanese that I met on my seven day trip was that they expressed a sense of satisfaction in their way of life. Nestled in between the two Asian behemoths of India and China, Bhutan as a nation started opening up its borders to the outside world only in 1974 and while tourism is a significant source of income for Bhutan, they would rather restrict the numbers of tourists than risk uncontrolled development that would invariably accompany the influx. And therefore visiting Bhutan feels like a privilege and you get the first taste of that when you land at the Paro Airport, which has a landing strip that is tucked in a valley between some pretty treacherous Himalayan slopes.
Immediately one can sense a visceral shift as the air in Bhutan is clean and pure, a miracle as far as developing nations go as Bhutan has pledged to remain carbon neutral and in fact manages to be carbon negative most of the time. The next shift one can sense is being surrounded by nature. The Bhutanese consciously eschew the Western model of development that has been blindly adopted by the rest of the developing world. They are categorical in their commitment to preserving their cultural and natural heritage. Our Bhutanese guide who was a young girl also revealed to us that Bhutanese society is largely not patriarchal and devoid of class biases.
My trip took me to the oft visited towns of Paro, Punakha – the ancient capital and Thimphu, the current capital and the largest city in Bhutan. Most Bhutanese have settled in the valleys carved into the Himalayas by several rivers and the cities I visited are also nestled in the drier plain-like valleys of Paro, Punakha and Thimphu respectively. The drives between these cities take you through relatively gentler and more rolling terrains unlike the steeper ones of the neighbouring Indian state of Sikkim. Situated in the valley formed by the Wang Chhu river, Thimphu is the political and economic capital of Bhutan. The urban character of Thimphu is dominated by small buildings that occupy the slopes and typically embody the prescriptive traditional architectural style seen in all of Bhutan. Corbelled and trabeated painted structures support sloping roofs adorn even the most blasé concrete frame buildings. Similar corbelled features are used to dress fenestrations. All buildings are mandated to follow these rules in order to preserve the visual harmony of the built environment.
Some more notable sights in Thimphu are the Tashichho Dzong (fort with administrative and religious offices), the Memorial Chorten and the recently built Dordenma Buddha statue which is the world’s largest seated Shakyamuni Buddha statue made of bronze and gilded on the outside. Some of the more profane places to visit in the national capital are the farmers’ market where you can see organic produce brought in for sale from all over the country. Apart from a variety of cheeses and chillies which form the staple food of Ema Datsi, you can also find lots of varieties of mushrooms, potatoes and herbs. In addition you can visit the National Textile Museum and the Royal Academy of Performing Arts. Apart from several restaurants that offer Indian and Tibetan food, Thimphu offers some great places to sample traditional Bhutanese cuisine especially to those brave enough to try the cheese-chilly dishes. Personally the Ema Datsi or cheese-chilly dish was quite a shock to even my seasoned India palette but I’d definitely recommend it with caution. For the more seasoned world travellers there are some excellent Japanese, Korean and Thai restaurants also.
Heading east, enroute from Thimphu to Punakha one usually halts at the Dochula pass which is at an elevation of 3100 m and is the site of 108 memorial Chortens built by the Queen Mother to commemorate the Bhutanese army martyrs in their war against Assamese insurgents. After a short halt you continue along the winding road edging along the river until you arrive at the unparalleled Punakha Dzong, magically situated at the confluence of two rivers, the Pho Chhu (father) and the Mo Chhu (Mother) rivers. The second oldest Dzong, it was the ancient power center of Bhutan and is the most elaborate example of a Dzong as well. One enters the Dzong through a beautiful wooden bridge that spans the river and is then greeted by the most awe inspiring sight of lush Jacaranda trees in their full purple bloom. Inside, the Dzong is composed of a series of connected courtyards contained within buildings made of compacted earth, stone and timber. Sadly despite these beautiful ancient examples one can only see ruins of compacted earth buildings in the nearby villages, with traditional construction being replaced by the ubiquitous concrete and infill methods and so while it seems that there is an attempt to preserve the building traditions of Bhutan in effect without actually using the old methods its simply skin deep tradition mostly.
Travelling further east one comes upon the valley of Wangdue Phodrang that’s drained by the Punatsangchhu River. Several villages are situated in this valley and one can see phalluses painted on several of these houses. The paintings of these erect phalluses are believed to ward off evil eye and malicious gossip. These esoteric paintings have their origins in the Chimi Lakhang monastery, blessed by the maverick saint, Drukpa Kunley often called the ‘divine madman’. The temple is visited by those seeking fertility blessings or to offer thanks for new progeny. Beyond Wangdue, one can continue on towards Phobjika valley to spot black necked cranes that migrate here from Tibet during the winters.
I returned back to Paro to spend the last few days of the trip and finish with the greatly anticipated hike up to the Tiger’s Nest monastery that clings to the cliff way above the Paro Valley. In comparison to the bustle and density of Thimphu and the pastoral Punakha, Paro is a well laid out and gridded town. It is also home to some of the most luxurious resorts that Bhutan has to offer, perhaps because most tourists visit here to conquer the Tiger’s Nest hike. One of the resorts that we visited is the Amankora resort by the famous Kerry Hill Architects. Built in rammed earth, wood and stone, the project interprets the Bhutanese mandates on architecture in a very contemporary way without losing the integrity of the traditional built form. The expansive patios of the resort look directly on to the oldest known Dzong in Bhutan or the Drukgyel Dzong. The Amankora Paro is an exemplary manifestation of architecture in harmony with its natural context and as mentioned earlier perhaps more building can take a cue from construction techniques used here.
The Paro or the Rinphung Dzong is perched above the town and is the first monument that one sees on landing in Paro, right from the runway. You can overlook the entire town situated along the river from the vantage that the Dzong provides. Situated on a sharply contoured site the Dzong is also quite unique in that the interlocking courtyards are at different levels and one has to descend from one to the other. While the Punakha Dzong is the most iconic of all, I personally found myself fascinated by the spatial and formal complexity of the Paro Dzong. The large steps descending from one courtyard to the other are placed perpendicular to the primary axis of movement and that intensifies the experience of progressing from one courtyard to the next. The Paro valley is also surrounded by several hiking routes which commenced from there or the neighboring Haa valley. In addition one can also drive through dense pine, spruce and rhododendron forests up to Chele La pass. Finally the trek up to the Tiger’s Nest monastery or Takhatsang was the piece de resistance of the trip. The trail takes one up through lush greenery and the views of the monastery perched on the precipice are a reward in itself after one has made the effort of the demanding climb.
Maybe Bhutan is not complicit with western ideals of Utopia, in that it is not abundance without restraint but plenitude because of sacrifice. Bhutan presents an interesting model of progress but it is embodied in several dichotomies. People are very disciplined yet very happy, they are willing to subdue individuality in favor of a common identity as seen in their architecture. Perhaps the most telling is that the country that is already the only carbon negative countries in the world is targeting expanding their forest cover from 81% to 84%. Where else but in Shangri-La would one gauge progress by such a metric?
All photos © Ekta Idnany