Mosque in Jurong by Forum Architects

This is my review of a building by Forum Architects that will be published in Oct issue of an architectural periodical...

Holistic Integration

"The upgrading of a built facility in Singapore, like much else in the city-state, can be largely a matter of rational deductions. It can give rise to a sense of inevitability about it if it is well done, as a solution is mapped out from the careful negotiation of site and size. What is needed is always tempered with what you can have. The architect is then faced with the same challenge as mathematical as that of the far-sighted economist; minimise wastage, maximise resources. Whether or not the upgraded whole can be something more than mundane utility, however, to become something that aspires to, say poetry, is another proposition altogether that will depend on the depth of design thinking behind it and how it addresses issues of a larger context.

A new extension to a neighbourhood mosque by Forum Architects is a case in point. Built in 1987, before the town of Jurong grew into its current ‘regional’ status, the original prayer hall of the mosque was a modest pentagonal space covered by a pointed decagonal concrete folded plate roof. Shorn of historicism, the Al-Mukminin Mosque in Jurong is a small-scale copy of the National Mosque in Kuala Lumpur, which was built in 1957-65. The latter was then an innovative design that relied on abstract geometry and a restrained scale to showcase the progressive stance of a new country. The folded plate roof, so obvious and simple a solution to us today, was quite unprecedented in 1957. Writing on the roof of the National Mosque in “The Mosque and the Modern World”, Hasan-Uddin Khan thought it was meant “to create a monumental version of the pitched roofs of the Malay longhouses, but even more, to echo the shape of the parasol—the traditional emblem of Malay royalty.” Whatever its leitmotif, it is the roof of the prayer hall that was detached above and that defined the profile of the National Mosque, which, like its replica in Jurong, included other communitarian functions like conference areas and other social spaces. These subsidiary spaces are kept low so that they do not compete with the ‘parasol’ emblem. Indeed, the detached roofs in both the National Mosque and the original, pre-extended Al-Mukminin mosque are such a significant form that neither was ringed with gutters or rainwater down pipes. Rain water would have discharged onto a lower flat roof, or else free-flowed to the ground or water bodies below.

Such then was the finite form the Al-Mukminin Mosque in its original state, when it was half-served with a crescent-shaped annex. But over the years, keeping its ancillary spaces below the eave line of the prayer hall became untenable as its needs grew. The mosque in the context of Singapore is also a sort of community centre, and houses a madrasah, conference halls, social spaces and offices in addition to the main prayer hall. Spaces are used throughout the day by children during school hours and adults in the evenings. It was obvious that additional spaces had to be created in the place of the low annex, on the only available strip of land sandwiched between the prayer hall, which will be retained for budgetary reasons, and the boundary that fronts the elevated MRT lines. It was equally obvious that the extension would maximise to the limit what the planning authorities can allow for religious buildings, which is 4 storeys above ground and basement for parking and other uses as needed. The broad task for the architects is therefore well-defined from the start, with the added constrain that the existing prayer hall will continue to be used even as the extension block is being constructed. The subservient relation between the former annex wing to the prayer hall will be changed. The real question, if the architects are sensitive to such things, was what role the new block will play to the existing hall, or of how the new “height” will relate to old “spread”.

That the architects involved do grapple with questions of context and harmony is gathered from the aspiration once articulated by Tan Kok Hiang, their lead designer and founding partner of the firm: “If people feel a sense of elevation into the realm of the uncommon or even the extraordinary, if they pause for a while to discard their old habits and reactions, if they feel a sense of harmony between what’s already there and what has been placed there, if they experience, even for a brief moment, total concentration, if they feel an absence of an architect at work, but more of unseen forces at play, that is my wish. That is all that matters.”

The care that this translates to in practice is best seen in how the new block is conceived and articulated. Its most important context is of course the existing prayer hall, and the choice here is between enhancing its independence and reverentially engulfing it. The architects chose the latter route, choosing to flare open the ends of the corridors of the new block and stretching its new staircases to enwrap the old hall. There is an intuitive feel here for what proportion of solidity the new block will occupy and what degree of verticality it ought to play up to counteract against the low sweep of the prayer hall. Hence, the staircases that flank the opposite ends of the new block are expressed as sturdy towers, and portals of the new wing. The widened ends of the corridors are also used as external spaces of the classrooms.

Between the 2 staircases, the curving corridors are mounted with a sweeping screen of aluminium louvres. Practically, they screen off the afternoon sun and modulate the play of light within the corridors, but seen from the other sides, they are also a multi-coloured backdrop of monumental surface treatment that evokes the decorative traditions of Islamic art. The repetitive and intricately composed shades of turquoise, yellow and blue are based on the dominant colours of ceramic tile design, and they help to convey a sense of depth and animation to what is essentially a flat surface. This striking backdrop is also visible through the skylight gap between the old and new block. And it is at this junction, the precise and complex meeting point between new and old, where the geometries of a jagged roof is delicately reconciled with the arc of a curving plane, that the architects’ respect for antecedent is best perceived. (Technically, the V-shaped steel brackets that support the skylight are entirely cantilevered from the beams of the new block. They merely touch the concrete roof on the other side.)

The new block is not just a taller entity; it is also situated at the defining junction of the site, the corner where all who approaches the building will be acquainted with first. It is its new face. Hence there is a “head” to the block, where the minaret and the offices are placed, and there is a “rear” at the other end, where the toilets are placed. A concern for overall massing can also be seen in how the heights of the new minaret, new block and old hall are successively lower the further they are from the road junction.

Each of its façade is treated in a different manner from the other, as they respond to different parameters. The “head” section is a semi-cylindrical form. The long façade that fronts the MRT line is practically blank because of a fire requirement that only permits 5% of windows on its face. This then became an opportunity for further forays of pattern making, and the choice here is one that adopted a more monochromatic palette to set it off against its colourful counterpart. The dominant motif here is a diagonal splay that plays upon the dynamism of the passing trains. Over at the end that houses all the toilets, the dominant lines are the verticals, with a playful staggering of fixed windows to weave it back to the other sides. Undoubtedly, what can be seen as an undue preoccupation with surface composition here is in accord with how wall treatment has historically been the framework for Islam’s greatest arts.

For better of worse, the final form of the mosque is always a representation of the Muslim community that commissions it, the physical focal of their faith. That the Islamic Council of Singapore has chosen to an architecture that exudes function, modernity and contemporary relevance to define one of its satellite mosques is an indication of the spirit of tolerance and outreach it believes in. There is no waste here, and like Singapore, there are no areas that have been unaccounted for. But in its detached yet integrated redevelopment, it also resolves and fulfils the brief in more ways than ordinary to show what the users can aspire to. It is a community’s vote of confidence in a holistic future."
Chup