Sovereign self-determination and new architectural languages go hand in hand. During the 1950s, newly independent countries like Sudan, Tunisia and Ghana spoke through the medium of concrete with their striking Brutalist buildings; similarly, Indonesia found its own way to articulate political liberation by introducing this new material. Jengki emerged around the same decade in Kebayoran Baru district, Jakarta, at a time when the newly independent nation was searching for a new identity.
During the postcolonial era, concrete became sculptural, expressive and symbolic of a new era of nation-building. The durability, flexibility and formal possibilities of the material allowed architecture to move away from colonial rigidity towards something more experimental. Rather than borrowing from international Modernism, Indonesia transformed these materials into a language of its own. Kebayoran Baru was conceived as a fully equipped city area, responding to Jakarta’s lack of land for public housing. From this planned urban ground, Jengki houses began to emerge, before spreading to cities across the archipelago.
Many such buildings were shaped through conversations between home owners, who acted as designers, and tukang (craftsmen), instead of formally trained architects. From this interaction emerged a signature style that was bold, rebellious and uncompromising – witnessed in angled walls, asymmetrical façades and butterfly roofs. This collaborative dialogue, however, also carried a contradiction. Jengki was often associated with the upper echelons of society. Many of the home owners were at the time considered to be the new elite – foreign business owners, Indonesian diplomats and the like – whose access and resources allowed for experimentation and the commissioning of distinctive designs.
The new style reflected an optimism and dauntless spirit. People were no longer prepared to wait for colonial institutions or foreign experts to define how they should live. Middle- and upper-class families moved into the newly designated residential areas and built town houses, wisma (guest houses), offices and shops, putting their trust in local builders. What blossomed was an Indonesian mid-20th-century Modernism.
What makes Jengki feels liberating is the fact that it celebrated the idea that design did not belong exclusively to professionals but also to local craftsmen. That in turn articulated how a new nation could build its own future. Speculation has swirled around the origins of the name. One account suggests it derives from the leg posture of cowboys on horseback in American films, while another traces it to the Dutch word janke. Either way, Indonesians have reappropriated the term for their own purposes.
This reinterpretation, as well as a rejection of the old order, was expressed in Jengki. Builders and home owners challenged European aesthetics that were centralised and defined by symmetry. Angular compositions, seen in sloping façades and asymmetrical massing, emerged, while gable roofs of varying heights created dynamic silhouettes that abandoned uniformity. Roof planes tapered sharply towards the back and were often intentionally disconnected at their peaks.
Inside, the house often retain a simple cube-shaped core, with spacious windows to balance the expressive exterior. Ventilation, as well as breeze blocks, were treated as architectural statements — often put below the roof to introduce air flow into the interior, while giving texture to the exterior. Ornamentation in the form of hard volcanic stone appeared below or beside doors and windows, grounding the experimental forms in material warmth and a tropical sensibility. On terraces, cast concrete parapets further reinforced the bold geometric language. Together, these elements formed an architecture that celebrated liberation, optimism and the emergence of a distinctly Indonesian Modernism.
Through informal collaborations between home owners and tukang, Jengki reflected the idea of a community formed through shared imagination, and where a sense of belonging could be constructed through common belief and collective aspiration. The act of building became a form of nation-making at a human scale. Each house, shop or villa was not only an individual expression but also a fragment of a larger shared vision of what an independent Indonesia could look like. Through its asymmetrical lines, Jengki continues to reverberate the spirit of a bold and brave generation, one that believed the future could be shaped, literally, by their own hands.
