I got commissioned by a futuristic city to build a cultural center
I got commissioned by a futuristic city to build a cultural center
I got commissioned by a futuristic city to build a cultural center
I got commissioned by a futuristic city to build a cultural center
Part I — Sneaking in.
A few years ago, I visited a city that didn’t exist yet.
It was in Bali.
A friend invited me to see this crazy new project called Nuanu.
At the time, there were no people.
No cafés.
No events.
No community.
Just land, construction, and a huge vision.
And I remember walking around thinking:
“One day, I want to do something here.”
I didn’t know what.
I just knew there was something about the place.
It felt like a playground waiting to be activated.
A few years later, I came back.
With my new lover.
And, well...
I kind of sneaked in.
I wanted to show her the place and told her:
“I have a feeling I’m going to do something here one day.”
Five minutes later, a security guard appeared.
“What are you doing here?”
I was about to explain myself when someone else arrived.
It was a friend I had met years before while creating a festival in Bali.
We had painted together at the festival and connected immediately.
And somehow, she had become the Art Director of Nuanu.
She looked at us.
Then at the security guard.
And basically saved our lives.
Instead of getting kicked out, we got a private tour.
And that’s when she brought us to the joglo.
Part I — Sneaking in.
A few years ago, I visited a city that didn’t exist yet.
It was in Bali.
A friend invited me to see this crazy new project called Nuanu.
At the time, there were no people.
No cafés.
No events.
No community.
Just land, construction, and a huge vision.
And I remember walking around thinking:
“One day, I want to do something here.”
I didn’t know what.
I just knew there was something about the place.
It felt like a playground waiting to be activated.
A few years later, I came back.
With my new lover.
And, well...
I kind of sneaked in.
I wanted to show her the place and told her:
“I have a feeling I’m going to do something here one day.”
Five minutes later, a security guard appeared.
“What are you doing here?”
I was about to explain myself when someone else arrived.
It was a friend I had met years before while creating a festival in Bali.
We had painted together at the festival and connected immediately.
And somehow, she had become the Art Director of Nuanu.
She looked at us.
Then at the security guard.
And basically saved our lives.
Instead of getting kicked out, we got a private tour.
And that’s when she brought us to the joglo.
Part II — I have an idea.
A joglo is a traditional Indonesian wooden house.
This one was huge.
One of the biggest ever built in Bali.
I walked inside and just thought:
“Wow.”
The wood.
The architecture.
The craftsmanship.
The atmosphere.
I asked her:
“What are they going to do here?”
She told me there had been a plan for an education project.
It never happened.
And now, they didn't really know what to do with the space.
I looked around and said:
“Maybe I have an idea.”
A few days later, I created the first vision.
I called it:
The House of Makers.
The idea was simple:
Make Arts.
Make Crafts.
Make Culture.
Make Community.
I wanted to create a place where Indonesian artists and makers could share their knowledge.
People could learn crafts.
Artists could create.
Visitors could discover Indonesian culture.
And everyone could connect through making.
I presented the idea to the founder of Nuanu.
And instead of just giving me feedback, he commissioned me to develop the full vision.
I had a month.
A budget.
And a mission:
Make this thing real.
So I built a team.
We created the business model around four pillars:
Workshops and education.
A design store.
A creative agency.
Events and exhibitions.
We imagined resident artists creating jewelry, fashion, furniture, crafts and visual art.
They would teach workshops.
Their creations could be sold in the store.
The creative agency could work with local artists and brands.
And festivals and exhibitions could bring everyone together.
The whole thing was designed as one ecosystem.
And then came the part I wasn't expecting.
The money.
I had always considered myself the creative guy.
Ideas?
Yes.
Design?
Yes.
Excel?
Not so much.
Numbers gave me headaches.
But I knew that if I wanted to build something real, I needed to understand how the money worked.
So I worked with a friend who helped me build the financial model.
I invested around €6,000–€7,000 into that process.
And honestly?
I learned a huge amount.
I discovered that financial modelling was actually quite creative.
You start seeing how everything connects.
How one pillar can support another.
How you allocate resources.
How changing one number can affect the entire system.
And I realized something:
Maybe I wasn't bad with numbers.
I had just never cared enough about the numbers before.
Part II — I have an idea.
A joglo is a traditional Indonesian wooden house.
This one was huge.
One of the biggest ever built in Bali.
I walked inside and just thought:
“Wow.”
The wood.
The architecture.
The craftsmanship.
The atmosphere.
I asked her:
“What are they going to do here?”
She told me there had been a plan for an education project.
It never happened.
And now, they didn't really know what to do with the space.
I looked around and said:
“Maybe I have an idea.”
A few days later, I created the first vision.
I called it:
The House of Makers.
The idea was simple:
Make Arts.
Make Crafts.
Make Culture.
Make Community.
I wanted to create a place where Indonesian artists and makers could share their knowledge.
People could learn crafts.
Artists could create.
Visitors could discover Indonesian culture.
And everyone could connect through making.
I presented the idea to the founder of Nuanu.
And instead of just giving me feedback, he commissioned me to develop the full vision.
I had a month.
A budget.
And a mission:
Make this thing real.
So I built a team.
We created the business model around four pillars:
Workshops and education.
A design store.
A creative agency.
Events and exhibitions.
We imagined resident artists creating jewelry, fashion, furniture, crafts and visual art.
They would teach workshops.
Their creations could be sold in the store.
The creative agency could work with local artists and brands.
And festivals and exhibitions could bring everyone together.
The whole thing was designed as one ecosystem.
And then came the part I wasn't expecting.
The money.
I had always considered myself the creative guy.
Ideas?
Yes.
Design?
Yes.
Excel?
Not so much.
Numbers gave me headaches.
But I knew that if I wanted to build something real, I needed to understand how the money worked.
So I worked with a friend who helped me build the financial model.
I invested around €6,000–€7,000 into that process.
And honestly?
I learned a huge amount.
I discovered that financial modelling was actually quite creative.
You start seeing how everything connects.
How one pillar can support another.
How you allocate resources.
How changing one number can affect the entire system.
And I realized something:
Maybe I wasn't bad with numbers.
I had just never cared enough about the numbers before.
Part III — The projects build you.
We built the vision.
The strategy.
The business model.
The timeline.
The team.
The financial projections.
Everything was there.
But the House of Makers never happened.
Nuanu had already invested an enormous amount into building the city.
And eventually, there wasn't enough money to continue with a project that ambitious.
So the space went in a much simpler direction.
And for a while, I was disappointed.
Because I had really poured my heart into it.
I wanted artists to have a place to create.
I wanted people to discover Indonesian culture.
I wanted a community to grow around creativity.
But looking back, I realize that the project gave me something I didn't know I needed.
Confidence.
Before the House of Makers, I mostly saw myself as a creative.
A designer.
An Art Director.
Someone who comes up with ideas.
After the project, I saw something else.
I could build a vision.
I could bring people together.
I could create a business around creativity.
I could understand the numbers.
I could lead something much bigger than a visual identity.
The House of Makers never opened its doors.
But it opened something in me.
And maybe that's the funny thing about some projects.
You think you're building the project.
And sometimes...
the project is actually building you.
Part III — The projects build you.
We built the vision.
The strategy.
The business model.
The timeline.
The team.
The financial projections.
Everything was there.
But the House of Makers never happened.
Nuanu had already invested an enormous amount into building the city.
And eventually, there wasn't enough money to continue with a project that ambitious.
So the space went in a much simpler direction.
And for a while, I was disappointed.
Because I had really poured my heart into it.
I wanted artists to have a place to create.
I wanted people to discover Indonesian culture.
I wanted a community to grow around creativity.
But looking back, I realize that the project gave me something I didn't know I needed.
Confidence.
Before the House of Makers, I mostly saw myself as a creative.
A designer.
An Art Director.
Someone who comes up with ideas.
After the project, I saw something else.
I could build a vision.
I could bring people together.
I could create a business around creativity.
I could understand the numbers.
I could lead something much bigger than a visual identity.
The House of Makers never opened its doors.
But it opened something in me.
And maybe that's the funny thing about some projects.
You think you're building the project.
And sometimes...
the project is actually building you.
Hey, are we on the same vibe here?
If yes, let's connect, let's meet, let's co-create or just let see…