Building Future from Yacademy to Thailand: Yiling’s Humanitarian Architecture

Building Future from Yacademy to Thailand: Yiling’s Humanitarian Architecture - Interview with Architecture for Humanity Alumna Yiling Kirk

Hello Yiling, thank you for accepting to be interviewed. You attended the course in Architecture for Humanity at Yacademy. What happened after the course in terms of your professional career?

Thank you for the interview. The Architecture for Humanity course was inspiring, exposing us to various approaches to social and humanitarian architecture - rooted in philosophy, community, climate, material, and more.

The course at Yacademy laid an educational foundation for this less discussed field. As a continuation of my interest in this direction, I was inspired to travel around regions close to home, to learn from various South and South-East Asia-based architects and craftspeople. From Laotian weaving along the scenic banks of the Mekong - to the construction of a classroom along the quiet refuge of Thailand’s border - to being mesmerised by the precisely cut fish-mouth bamboo joints by the Dāi along the Terai of Nepal - the theoretical knowledge attained during my term at Yacademy was tested and refined through actual practice.

Earlier this year, you had the privilege of collaborating on the design and implementation of a classroom for the Burmese refugees, in Mae Sot, Thailand. Can you tell us more about this project?

Project Irrawaddy Flower Garden emerged in response to the growing demand for classroom space within the Burmese refugee community along the Thai–Myanmar border. Under the guidance of architect Jan Glasmeier of Simple Architecture and in collaboration with local builders and students of architecture across the world, the project embraced a hands-on process, involving design and construction from foundation to roof. 

The design emphasized the use of sustainable local materials. Adobe brick walls, made from local soil and rice husks, curve gently to define its interior. External layers of mud plaster, mixed with tapioca starch and soil, create a smooth water-resistant final coating. Recycled teak trusses shape a sloping roofline that welcomes its surrounding mango trees into the building’s volume. 

The project sought to reimagine a classroom space, moving away from its usual dim and box-like standard, and imbuing it with an openness and playfulness that is reflective of the vigour of its young students. 

What did contributing to this project mean to you?

Project Irrawaddy Flower Garden concluded after five weeks under the sweltering sun of Mae Sot. As I sat on my dreadful 10-hour bus ride back to the capital, I recounted all the details of the design and construction in my head - every component that could have been designed better, every process that could have been executed more efficiently. 

Just as I got to the part about the slightly misaligned brick, my phone pinged. Our project mate had sent in a video - the classroom that was just an empty space weeks before was now bustling with the enthusiasm of young students, excited for their first class in this new place. The moment left me with a sense of ineffability. 

As visual creatures ourselves, there is always a tendency for architecture to be birthed from the desire for an egocentric visual expression. Project Irrawaddy Flower Garden, to me, returned to a core meaning of architecture, not simply as a medium for creative expression in itself but as a conveyance of social and ethical beliefs through its execution. In this context, the act of architecture here becomes the expression of a simple hope - where the formalisation of an empty space stands as an earnest yearn for the new possibilities and memories that may partake within it.

Are you working on anything new? What would you like to focus on in the coming years?

While I was in a small village along the Terai of Nepal, a curious building technique was frequently executed by my homestay hosts. A concoction of buffalo dung and soil was applied daily to the exterior of their mud homes to enhance insulation. This technique is a stark contrast to the concept in cities where a network of hidden sanitary pipes flushes away all forms of excretion with the utmost disgust and urgency.  

More often than not, social and humanitarian projects take place in communities where traditional building techniques are still predominant. The role of architecture here then, is not to impose a westernised ideal, transforming them into ‘modern’ or ‘developed’ regions. Rather, it serves as a mediator, synthesising local vernacular technologies with new building methods. 

In this regard, the nature of its projects necessitates practitioners to relearn architecture with the abstention of any pre-existing social and architectural prejudices. Its fundamentals of architecture must be shaken and reshaped, with its axioms to be torn apart and restructured.

I hope to continue pursuing this path - learning from both formal practices and community knowledge. In the months ahead, I am excited to engage with more communities: from bamboo construction of clinics and schools in Myanmar to the building of religious educational spaces in Nepal which celebrate the craft of natural materials. 

 

More information via: https://www.simplearchitecture.net/irrawaddy-2-0

Photography by: Jonathan Wiedemann

Project lead: Jan Glasmeier, Simple Architecture

Project Volunteers: Emma Vogel, Harry Whittaker, Jonathan Weduwen, Julia Prudzienica, Leyla Scarlattella, Linda Böhret, Lizzy Ramm, Rungpairin Suttichote

Supporters: Help without Frontiers (HwF) and local communities