FLOATING MAIN ST

Photo Credits：
All photos used on this page are sourced from The Bajau Laut Way (Onewater, https://onewater.blue/article/the-bajau-laut-way-9f844af5) and “Indonesia’s Bajau Sea Nomads” (The New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2024/06/20/world/asia/indonesia-bajo-bajau-sea-nomads.html).

Sai un nu? was play-tested with 5th-grade students to observe how children interpret the act of divination through choice and chance. The session explored how an abstract system of cards and symbols could become an accessible learning tool about the Bajau community and the idea of resilience.

Sai un nu?
A fortune-telling game that invites players to read their future through choices of life, water, and resilience.

The title echoes a question heard among the Bajau — a gentle inquiry meaning “Who are you?” or “What becomes of you?”
In the game, each combination of cards forms a triangle of fate, revealing a symbolic path between human decisions and the currents of the sea.

What I learned from observing users
Fifth-graders struggled with some vocabulary (e.g., “divination”), but immediately understood “fortune-telling game.” Visual readability was an issue: some options weren’t clearly visible or distinct; print colors and layout reduced legibility. The triangular “find-the-result” mechanic felt cognitively heavy and error-prone for several players. At the same time, the social problem-solving that emerged—kids helping each other locate results—was highly engaging and aligns with the project’s community lens.

Moments that stood out (engagement / confusion / discovery)

Engagement: Several students wanted to replay and asked detailed questions about how the Bajau built on water and source materials; A tired students became animated once the “reading” felt personal; Some others asked to play it more times.
Confusion: Unclear iconography and muted contrast slowed progress; some players asked for explanations of some words.

Discovery: Some outcomes felt “spot-on,” others mismatched—prompting peer discussion about multiple interpretations and life possibilities.

How these insights inform next steps

Language & framing: Use “fortune-telling game” as a one-line glossary; maybe add “no single right answer.”
Legibility: Increase type size, contrast, and icon + text labels; adjust print color profile. Or consider an immersive visual system on the structures.
Flow: Keep the collaborative searching process, but add an optional animation/QR-linked calculator for results to reduce errors.
Meaning-making: Provide brief, open-ended prompts (“Why might this fit/not fit you?”) and a short “Why it matters to the Bajau” note per outcome to connect personal reflection to resilience.
Autonomy: Clear signage so the station runs facilitator-free.
Scalability: Modular outcome packs (expand beyond six), allowing updates like a game “patch” as the exhibit evolves.

Bubble Diagram

Spatial Experience:

The exhibit is organized along the Floating Main Street, where each zone unfolds a dialogue between permanence and transience.

The left side features more permanent exhibition buildings constructed from modern, durable materials, symbolizing the preservation of Bajau culture through contemporary methods.

The right side transitions to lighter, more temporary workshops and markets built from local, organic materials—spaces that adapt, grow, and dissolve like the tides themselves, celebrating the Bajau’s living resilience.

Overall Plan

Story:

The exhibit tells the story of the Bajau people, a sea-nomadic community who have lived for centuries without a fixed homeland. Constantly drifting between land and sea, they embody resilience through movement, adaptation, and deep connection to the ocean.

Visitors are invited to navigate a series of floating installations—part museum, part game, part sensory experience—that mirror the Bajau’s search for belonging. Through play and reflection, the project reimagines divination not as prediction, but as an act of collective learning and empathy across cultures.

Science:

Scientifically, the project draws from marine ecology and human adaptation studies.

The Bajau’s free-diving physiology, resource cycles, and floating architecture demonstrate how communities can evolve symbiotically with their environment. The exhibit translates these adaptive systems into spatial experiences while also proposing modern, sustainable ways to improve the living conditions of the Bajau people: a rainwater filtration tower visualizing ecological cycles; material reuse showcasing low-resource construction; and interactive sensing that turns environmental observation into participation.

By merging environmental science with sensory storytelling, the exhibit transforms resilience from a concept into an embodied experience.

Closer Than a Story

Toolkit for Designing Low-Tech, Co-Created On-Site Experiences

Key Principle 01 — Go to the Site

To understand a tribe, you must stand where they stand.

Context lives on site.
Presence before interpretation.
Site before storytelling.

Key Principle 02 — Move from Visitor to Community Member

From visitor to participant, from participant to community.
Design for immersion that becomes relationship.
You don’t just see the community, you join its rhythm.

When learning about a tribe, remaining only a “visitor” reinforces separation—it frames the community as an object to be viewed rather than a group of people with whom relationships can form.

A meaningful encounter happens when visitors begin to feel the subtle shift from outsider to temporary insider.
Not by pretending to “be” the community, but by understanding the logic of daily life, recognizing shared dependencies, and experiencing a slice of the world through the perspectives of those who live in it.

This transition is emotional as much as spatial.
It emerges through touch, proximity, embodied tasks, and narrative choice-making. When visitors contribute to an activity, carry out a role, or perform a responsibility shaped by the community’s rhythms, the exhibition stops being a display—and becomes a shared environment.

The goal is not simulation, but participation grounded in respect.
In this shift, visitors recognize their agency within the ecosystem of the exhibition, and the community gains visibility, dignity, and potential benefit.

Design not for spectatorship, but for belonging.

Key Principle 03 — Understanding Emerges Through Active Learning

Active learning reveals what passive watching cannot.
Understanding grows through action, not observation.
Learn through doing—feel through experience.

In this exhibition, learning happens through a carefully designed sequence of actions.
Visitors do not receive information all at once; they build understanding gradually, through a progression that mirrors how daily life unfolds for the community.

Step 1 — Receiving a Local Identity

Visitors enter the exhibition through a game that assigns them a role rooted in local life.
This identity frames their perspective—not by asking them to imitate the community, but by offering a lens through which they can experience the space.

Step 2 — Encountering Everyday Tools and Belongings

Visitors touch and interact with objects that shape daily routines.
Labor tools, household items, and personal belongings act as anchors for empathy: through these materials, visitors begin to sense how life is organized and what skills or values matter in the community.

Step 3 — Learning Through Interactive Scenarios

Visitors participate in low-tech games that reveal environmental pressures, economic choices, and social negotiations.
Each decision helps them understand the lived realities behind the community’s adaptability and resilience.

Step 4 — Participating in Labor with Usable Outcomes

Visitors carry out simplified versions of local tasks, creating small outcomes that mimic real contributions.
In this setting, the exhibition becomes mutually beneficial: the community gains opportunities for labor and income, and visitors gain grounded, experiential insight.

Key Principle 04 — Design for Capacity, Rhythms, and Day-Long Journeys

Design for rhythms, not just rooms.
Every capacity choice shapes experience.
A remote site demands a full-day journey.
Spaces must support visitors, workers, and community alike.

This exhibition is situated in a remote, self-contained environment—far from the density and conveniences of a city.
Because of this, each space must be carefully calibrated to support the real rhythms of a day, the needs of different user groups, and the flows of movement that shape how people experience the site.

1. Capacity Is Not a Technical Detail—It Is Part of the Experience
Every room or outdoor area must hold the right number of people to maintain intimacy, comfort, and safety.
Too many visitors dilute the sense of belonging; too few create gaps in the communal atmosphere.
Capacity becomes a design tool for shaping emotional tone and pacing.

2. Different People Have Different Journeys
A visitor may arrive curious and move gradually through identity, objects, scenarios, and labor.
A local worker may come for income-generating tasks at specific times.
A community collaborator may stay longer, assist with facilitation, or use the space for their own activities.

Each group follows a distinct daily arc, and the spatial system must accommodate all of them without conflict.

3. The Day Must Be Sequentially Designed
Because the site is remote, visitors stay longer and move through the exhibition as a full-day experience, not a quick stop.
Spaces must support:

arrival and orientation
learning and immersion
rest and observation
participation and labor
reflection and exit

The exhibition becomes a temporal landscape, not just a physical layout.

4. Functional Zones Should Support These Shifts
This includes:

quiet rooms for orientation
low-tech interaction zones
sensory corridor areas
labor-based participation areas
resting and gathering zones
transition spaces that allow emotional pacing

These zones work together to support the rhythm of the entire day.

5. The Site Must Sustain Itself as a Mini-Ecosystem
Because the exhibition is far from the city, its spaces must meet practical needs: shade, seating, circulation, water access, and community work areas.
The design must allow both visitors and community members to inhabit the site comfortably for extended periods.