The Architecture Of Empathy

Indonesian architect Ary Indrajanto talks about retreating to a small town, finding a new perspective in his practice, and transcending mere building design

- Asih Jenie

With an official birth date of 24 July 750, Salatiga is Indonesia’s second oldest city. Spanning just under 55 square kilometres and situated 571 metres above sea level, it enjoys a cool climate of 22 to 24°C all year round. In 1746, because of its strategic location, the Dutch East India Company built De Hersteller fort in Salatiga and populated it with colonial buildings. The Dutch used to call it de schoonste stad van Midden-Java—”the most beautiful town in Central Java”.

Some of these buildings remain to this day, and Indonesians hail Salatiga as one of the country’s most tolerant cities thanks to its many religious festivals, and one of its best places for retirement. Yet it remains largely overlooked as a domestic destination, eclipsed by the overlapping spheres of influence of neighbouring Semarang (the capital of Central Java), Surakarta and Yogyakarta (the seats of the Javanese sultanates), and Magelang (the site of the world-famous Borobudur Temple). With no airports of its own, it also remains a hidden gem in international travel itineraries.

But post-pandemic, one architectural project in Salatiga went viral. It put the sleepy city on the hype map: a 17m-tall hotel, strikingly red and slender against the backdrop of the blue sky and the low-rise town at the foot of the majestic Mount Merbabu. “The skinniest hotel ever”, it advertises—a title that hasn’t been made official by any known book of records, but one which the hotel, named PituRooms, has nonetheless decisively claimed online. As its name suggests—