After exploring historical sites in Jakarta for weeks, the other day Agung and I finally visited a museum in the city. It is one we had been meaning to pay a visit for quite some time, so we decided to finally make time—before our third screening of Europe on Screen—to stop by the quaint little building. Welcome to Munasprok! Located on Jl. Imam Bonjol in the Menteng area, Museum Perumusan Naskah Proklamasi is the very site where the founding fathers of this country gathered to brainstorm—yes, brainstorm—the proclamation speech as a declaration of Indonesia’s independence, following the news of Japan’s defeat in WWII. This used to be a Japanese soldier’s home, but now holds such meaning for the forming of this nation. Let’s take a look around together!
The House that Built Us
After exploring historical sites in Jakarta for weeks, the other day Agung and I finally visited a museum in the city. It is one we had been meaning to pay a visit for quite some time, so we decided to finally make time—before our third screening of Europe on Screen—to stop by the quaint little building. Welcome to Munasprok! Located on Jl. Imam Bonjol in the Menteng area, Museum Perumusan Naskah Proklamasi is the very site where the founding fathers of this country gathered to brainstorm—yes, brainstorm—the proclamation speech as a declaration of Indonesia’s independence, following the news of Japan’s defeat in WWII. This used to be a Japanese soldier’s home, but now holds such meaning for the forming of this nation. Let’s take a look around together!
The House that Built Us
The building itself was actually first built in the 1920s in an Art Deco style by the Dutch architect, J.F.L. Blankenberg. Since its completion, it has changed hands numerous times, due to the political turbulence in Indonesia at that time. In 1931, its ownership belongs to a local insurance company, but within a decade, it falls to Japanese hands. Until Indonesia’s independence in August 1945, Admiral Tadashi Maeda made this the place of dwelling for him and his family.
Afterwards, in September 1945, it is utilised for British troops headquarters, before it becomes the British Embassy in 1961-1981. Finally, after 6 years of construction, in 1992 it officially became the museum we know today.
The content of the museum itself, however, focuses solely on its historical significance as the place where our independence is technically born. There are four main rooms in the house, all located on the ground floor. The way visitors are directed from room to room adds an experiential quality to the narrative that feels immersive without having to use hi-tech methods.
The second floor is mainly filled with residential rooms—you’ll even find three bathrooms still intact—now filled with artifacts of each historical figure involved and narrations of events surrounding the independence across the archipelago. What’s most interesting to me is how different regions receive news of it on different dates—even spanning years!
The building itself was actually first built in the 1920s in an Art Deco style by the Dutch architect, J.F.L. Blankenberg. Since its completion, it has changed hands numerous times, due to the political turbulence in Indonesia at that time. In 1931, its ownership belongs to a local insurance company, but within a decade, it falls to Japanese hands. Until Indonesia’s independence in August 1945, Admiral Tadashi Maeda made this the place of dwelling for him and his family.
Afterwards, in September 1945, it is utilised for British troops headquarters, before it becomes the British Embassy in 1961-1981. Finally, after 6 years of construction, in 1992 it officially became the museum we know today.
The content of the museum itself, however, focuses solely on its historical significance as the place where our independence is technically born. There are four main rooms in the house, all located on the ground floor. The way visitors are directed from room to room adds an experiential quality to the narrative that feels immersive without having to use hi-tech methods.
The second floor is mainly filled with residential rooms—you’ll even find three bathrooms still intact—now filled with artifacts of each historical figure involved and narrations of events surrounding the independence across the archipelago. What’s most interesting to me is how different regions receive news of it on different dates—even spanning years!
As usual, aside from the history itself, I would admire the architecture. And, as someone with a soft spot on Art Deco buildings, I absolutely fell in love with this building. I find it the kind of Art Deco you can only find in this part of the world. Sure, there are some textbook-Art Deco features you can find—like the decorated railings on the stairwell and balcony—but the tropically essential touches add a level of uniqueness to the building—such as the wooden doorframe and shuttered windows. It’s just so quintessentially colonial architecture of the West Indies—reminds me so much of my grandparents’ house.
Not only the look of the building, the floor plan is also interesting to me. They have so many concealed rooms at the back of the ground floor and a hidden staircase leading to a secret door. It kind of reminds me of my cousin’s house—she, too, had a hidden staircase leading to a secret door. There are so many chairs and sofas everywhere, with clippings from old newspapers or designs of propaganda posters lining the walls. What you cannot miss is, of course, the blown-up scribbling of the initial proclamation speech as written by Ir. Soekarno himself. It does feel like being transported into a different time and a different world for a while.
As usual, aside from the history itself, I would admire the architecture. And, as someone with a soft spot on Art Deco buildings, I absolutely fell in love with this building. I find it the kind of Art Deco you can only find in this part of the world. Sure, there are some textbook-Art Deco features you can find—like the decorated railings on the stairwell and balcony—but the tropically essential touches add a level of uniqueness to the building—such as the wooden doorframe and shuttered windows. It’s just so quintessentially colonial architecture of the West Indies—reminds me so much of my grandparents’ house.
Not only the look of the building, the floor plan is also interesting to me. They have so many concealed rooms at the back of the ground floor and a hidden staircase leading to a secret door. It kind of reminds me of my cousin’s house—she, too, had a hidden staircase leading to a secret door. There are so many chairs and sofas everywhere, with clippings from old newspapers or designs of propaganda posters lining the walls. What you cannot miss is, of course, the blown-up scribbling of the initial proclamation speech as written by Ir. Soekarno himself. It does feel like being transported into a different time and a different world for a while.
Curatorial Excellence
Honestly, this is probably one of my favourite museums in the city—if not the country. It knows how to balance the historical element of the building and the artifacts with the modern touches that makes it appealing to today’s visitors. I don’t know who is responsible for curating this space, but they have done a terrific job. The space has been designed very nicely, not only in its materials but also in its experience.
As I’ve said before, the visitors are directed cleverly from room to room, to make it seem as if they were there when this historical event took place. Not only that, though, they equipped several rooms with sensor-triggered audio that makes the experience really come to life as the visitors walk into the room—although it gave us one hell of a jump scare as well. They also managed to preserve the warmth of a once-family-home by using family portraits, bathrooms, pin boards and curtains to deliver facts. We can even interact with most of what is being displayed in the museum.
Honestly, this is probably one of my favourite museums in the city—if not the country. It knows how to balance the historical element of the building and the artifacts with the modern touches that makes it appealing to today’s visitors. I don’t know who is responsible for curating this space, but they have done a terrific job. The space has been designed very nicely, not only in its materials but also in its experience.
As I’ve said before, the visitors are directed cleverly from room to room, to make it seem as if they were there when this historical event took place. Not only that, though, they equipped several rooms with sensor-triggered audio that makes the experience really come to life as the visitors walk into the room—although it gave us one hell of a jump scare as well. They also managed to preserve the warmth of a once-family-home by using family portraits, bathrooms, pin boards and curtains to deliver facts. We can even interact with most of what is being displayed in the museum.
I believe it is clever of the curators to use the Maeda family as the angle to go for. Not only is it significant to the historical event in question—brainstorming the proclamation script—but it also makes the place come to life and not just a hollow space. This whole museum, after all, is all about the experience. Just being there allows visitors to imagine exactly what transpired. How do you think Soekarno managed to come up with the script he finally read? Why did he have to sign the final script on a piano? Did our founding fathers decide to spend the night at the Maedas? They did come here in the middle of the night, after all. You can even feel that sense of urgency, somehow.
I wonder if they knew that, come morning, their lives and the lives of millions of people on this same land will be changed forever. I wonder if they knew that the lives of those who are not yet born but will come after them will also be affected. I wonder if they could have guessed at the cruelty that will follow—done not by the hands of outer colonies, but by those of their own kin. I wonder how they felt that night before Indonesia’s independence day came to pass—giddy maybe for finally seeing light at the end of the tunnel? Nervous to know exactly what will soon unfold? Who knows.
Noesa headband // hand-me-down shirt + jacket // old pants + boots // photos by Agung
I believe it is clever of the curators to use the Maeda family as the angle to go for. Not only is it significant to the historical event in question—brainstorming the proclamation script—but it also makes the place come to life and not just a hollow space. This whole museum, after all, is all about the experience. Just being there allows visitors to imagine exactly what transpired. How do you think Soekarno managed to come up with the script he finally read? Why did he have to sign the final script on a piano? Did our founding fathers decide to spend the night at the Maedas? They did come here in the middle of the night, after all. You can even feel that sense of urgency, somehow.
I wonder if they knew that, come morning, their lives and the lives of millions of people on this same land will be changed forever. I wonder if they knew that the lives of those who are not yet born but will come after them will also be affected. I wonder if they could have guessed at the cruelty that will follow—done not by the hands of outer colonies, but by those of their own kin. I wonder how they felt that night before Indonesia’s independence day came to pass—giddy maybe for finally seeing light at the end of the tunnel? Nervous to know exactly what will soon unfold? Who knows.
Noesa headband // hand-me-down shirt + jacket // old pants + boots // photos by Agung
Modernising History
Last but not least is the place we almost missed out on. So, if you walk through the front door, go through the meeting room all the way to the back, you’ll be led to the backyard. This is the place where, apparently, the Maeda family loved to spend their time—according to the many, many portraits they took there. The area has, obviously, undergone some serious renovations, although still leaving some quaint details that manages to keep its homey look.
If you follow the path to the right, you’ll find a door frame leading to this small plaza where a few of our founding fathers sit in a circle, seemingly brainstorming what the proclamation script will be like. There is just enough space left out between them that you can almost pretend you are part of the circle, bouncing off ideas with them—which is exactly what I did (lol).
Behind them, you’ll find the most modern part of this entire premise—the office and prayer rooms—where the museum staff could work and pray.
Last but not least is the place we almost missed out on. So, if you walk through the front door, go through the meeting room all the way to the back, you’ll be led to the backyard. This is the place where, apparently, the Maeda family loved to spend their time—according to the many, many portraits they took there. The area has, obviously, undergone some serious renovations, although still leaving some quaint details that manages to keep its homey look.
If you follow the path to the right, you’ll find a door frame leading to this small plaza where a few of our founding fathers sit in a circle, seemingly brainstorming what the proclamation script will be like. There is just enough space left out between them that you can almost pretend you are part of the circle, bouncing off ideas with them—which is exactly what I did (lol).
Behind them, you’ll find the most modern part of this entire premise—the office and prayer rooms—where the museum staff could work and pray.
In the lieu of this mania the city government has to ‘modernise’ every museum and historical building, I really hope, by God, they won’t touch this one. There is no need to make this place look more modern—half of its appeal comes in the form of its Art Deco building, historical artifacts and warm feeling you get in someone’s once-humble-abode. That should be preserved and highlighted. Modernising everything is never the answer, it loses half its significant values and makes it a cold, distant and more established place—not somewhere people can feel and relate to the history. How do you expect someone be interested in something if they don’t feel a connection with it?
Not to sound like a know-it-all, but in my opinion, what our museums need is a simple rebranding and proper marketing team. Museums all over the world tend to do well, because they keep themselves in the radar; because the government provides them budgets to come up with exciting collaborations, projects and campaigns to attract visitors. They don’t need to be remodeled into something entirely new. They just need to feel new every time people come to visit—even if the history doesn’t change. So that should be considered the solution, not a complete make over that nobody asks for.
What is your favourite museum where you live?
In the lieu of this mania the city government has to ‘modernise’ every museum and historical building, I really hope, by God, they won’t touch this one. There is no need to make this place look more modern—half of its appeal comes in the form of its Art Deco building, historical artifacts and warm feeling you get in someone’s once-humble-abode. That should be preserved and highlighted. Modernising everything is never the answer, it loses half its significant values and makes it a cold, distant and more established place—not somewhere people can feel and relate to the history. How do you expect someone be interested in something if they don’t feel a connection with it?
Not to sound like a know-it-all, but in my opinion, what our museums need is a simple rebranding and proper marketing team. Museums all over the world tend to do well, because they keep themselves in the radar; because the government provides them budgets to come up with exciting collaborations, projects and campaigns to attract visitors. They don’t need to be remodeled into something entirely new. They just need to feel new every time people come to visit—even if the history doesn’t change. So that should be considered the solution, not a complete make over that nobody asks for.
What is your favourite museum where you live?