Balinese architecture: Home for body and soul

Balinese architecture: Home for body and soul

By Degung Santikarma

DENPASAR (JP): Traditionally, Balinese architecture offers not
just shelter from sun and storm but provides a commentary on the
order of the cosmos. Just as Balinese ritual is directed towards
rebalancing the opposing poles of the world -- good and evil,
order and disorder, right and wrong -- so Balinese traditional
architecture attempts to balance the relationship between the
human body, the world in which it lives, and the metaphysical.
Traditional Balinese architecture is comprised of an extremely
detailed body of ancient knowledge called Asta Kosala Kosali,
which is inscribed in palm-leaf lontar books written in the Old
Javanese language of Kawi which few Balinese today understand.
Filling a social function halfway between a priest and a building
contractor, the undagi ensures that the house will be physically,
socially and spiritually appropriate for the people who are to
live in it. The traditional architect who has mastered this lore
and knows how to apply it to creating human habitation is called
an undagi. But while the theory and practice of building in Bali
might be quite complex in its entirety, its basic principles are
simple. Because the human body is a microcosm, or a miniature
copy of the world in which it dwells -- which in turn is a
microcosm of the divine order of the universe -- one's house must
be built in harmony with one's body. By applying principles of
balance between opposing forces, traditional Balinese
architecture can create a congruous living space, bringing
optimal health and happiness to a house's inhabitants.

The majority of homes in Bali are constructed not as single
family dwellings but as compounds that can house an extended
group of relatives in a series of separate pavilions surrounded
by a high wall. To build a new house, the undagi first measures
various parts of the head of the household's body -- usually the
senior male member of the family. Using a piece of bamboo, the
undagi will document a variety of bodily dimensions, such as the
distance between the tips of the middle fingers when the arms are
outspread, the distance between the elbow and the tips of the
middle fingers, the width of the fist, the length of the index
finger, the space between the joints of the index finger and the
width of the little finger. These measurements will determine the
size of the compound, the dimensions of the individual pavilions
and the spacing of the supporting posts, and even the width and
length of the beds. Other factors which the undagi uses to match
a house to its future inhabitants include the person's caste, for
in the past one's place within the social hierarchy determined
the type of house one should build. And, of course, with a
variety of building materials and levels of decorative complexity
to choose from, one's budget will also play a deciding role.

The undagi works to make sure that the layout of the compound
is aligned not only with the owner's body but with the powerful
forces at work in the physical and spiritual world. In Bali,
spatial alignment is organized not according to the absolute
directions of north, south, east and west, but in reference to
kaja, the direction of the holy Mount Agung, which rises up from
the center of the island and is said to be the home of the gods,
and kelod, the direction of the sea. The mountain represents
purity and sacredness and the sea symbolizes impurity, for the
sea is where the ashes of the dead are scattered.

Between the mountain and the sea, between the sacred and the
profane, is where humans live their lives, trying to balance good
and evil in all that they do. Likewise, the human body is divided
into pure, impure and intermediate parts. The head is the most
sacred part of the body, the feet the most impure. Traditional
architecture, seeking to align the human body properly in space,
specifies the position of the various parts of the house in
relation to their relative purity and impurity. The family temple
will be built facing the mountain. The bathrooms, animal pens,
and garbage heap will face the sea. In the middle of the compound
will be located a number of pavilions -- called bale -- which are
usually semi-open structures where the family will sleep and
gather to talk and work. Even the beds will be laid out so that
one's head will face the mountain and one's feet will point
towards the sea.

When the house is finished, ceremonies will be held to bring
the house to life and to appease any negative forces that might
be lingering around the site. The building materials that have
been taken from the earth and "killed" to construct the house are
now reanimated by a priest through ritual. The house is now
alive, possessing feet, head and body, and it must be taken care
of like one would take care of any human being with whom one has
a close relationship. On important ritual occasions, the
pavilions and posts of the house will even be "dressed" as human
beings, wrapped in colorful cloth skirts and sashes. And every
day, the women of the house will make small offerings of rice and
flowers. These will be placed in certain spots around the house
and yard. This is done in order to ask for the good will of the
spirits who share their living space.

In the past Balinese houses were constructed of wood,
preferably the iron hard teak wood that resists high tropical
humidity and hungry termites. Roofs were made of thatch, woven
tightly to provide protection against the sun and the torrential
rains of the monsoon. The walls that surrounded traditional
compounds were made of sun-baked mud bricks or even, in South
Bali, chunks of coral from the reefs lining the shore. In
contemporary Bali, a wide variety of materials are now used.
Concrete and brick are cheap and easy to work with, and ceramic
tile has become a must for anyone hoping to appear modern and
wealthy.

Modernity

Many Balinese, in fact, now build homes far from their
ancestral compounds and the traditional open platform style is
being replaced by the rumah kantor or "office house," with
enclosing walls, windows and low roofs -- a style which may
satisfy the new craving for a cosmopolitan modernity but which is
hardly appropriate to Bali's hot, humid weather. Ironically, in
contemporary Bali it is often the tourist hotels or the grand
homes of Bali's large expatriate community that display the
greatest obsession with creating the authentic Bali Style.

While it is, of course, impossible for a hotel to follow all
the tenets of traditional Balinese architecture by matching rooms
to fit the bodies of an ever-changing parade of guests, today's
hotels try to incorporate elements of traditional architecture in
their design. Lumbung barns used to store the rice harvest
provide inspiration for guest rooms. Meeting rooms are done over
in the manner of a Balinese wantilan, or public assembly hall.

The split gates that guide Balinese into temples and family
compounds frame lobbies decorated with coconut wood pillars,
carved stone sculptures and paintings depicting colorful
characters from local mythology. Statues of gods and demons do
double duty as garden lamps, while the temple for the guardians
of the land serves as a command post for hotel security. Even if
these modern temples express a more secular relationship with
space than the old style Balinese house compound, they
nevertheless can still serve to introduce Bali's guests to the
beauty and balance that characterize Balinese architecture.