Upon arrival, Peter dove into the heart of the project immediately. Inspired by the traditional roof houses known as "Gurdu," he began designing a structure that would serve as both a physical and metaphorical shelter for the community. His initial concept resembled the terracotta roof tiles iconic to this region. At the same time, Godelieve found herself grappling with a different kind of construction—the unspoken legacy of (neo)colonialism that still lingered over Jatiwangi's fields. Exploring her discomfort with the past and the ways in which it continued to influence modern economic systems, she started interviewing people connected to JaF and spent most of her time writing.

In Jatiwangi and the surrounding areas, agriculture was once focused on local food supply, but now, with factory expansion, the community may become reliant on food products from multinationals, reducing local food security. How can we free land from speculation and restore our relationship with the earth? It is this underpinning question that started our quest to visit JaF in Indonesia. The land that once sustained the community was now being swallowed by factories, and with it, the skills and traditions of local food production were fading. This shift towards dependence on an external, extractive economy felt like a betrayal of the land itself. It wasn’t just the ceramics that were being lost, but the knowledge of how to live in harmony with the soil.

Our exploration took us further into the heart of Jatiwangi, where factories—both old and new—were sprouting like mushrooms across the landscape. We visited many, each a symbol of the region's evolving economy. Traditional factories, still producing rooftop tiles in small-scale operations, stood alongside modern garment factories producing for global brands like Nike and Puma. These factories, which once stood on agricultural land, now symbolised a globalised economy, with their production lines churning out goods that would be shipped anywhere but in Jatiwangi itself. Here, the local craftsmanship coexisted uneasily with multinational industries. I couldn't help but wonder the convenience of these low wages for the western - so called ‘developed’ world.

My own journey began to take shape as I delved into the making of a documentary about the context of JAF’s ambitions. The question that drove me was straight forward: How can a community reclaim its land, culture and identity in a world increasingly dominated by industrialization and global markets? And consequently, how can values such as kinship, friendship & trust become the main drivers for developing an alternative modus operandi? JAF’s approach was rooted in the belief that a different economy was possible—and that community practices is one of the core principles for this. Even though I felt the narrative of my documentary would somehow unfold in the making, I was determined to capture how a community like JAF navigates these challenges through art, collaboration and experimentation.

A compelling project is their project called Family Forest Perhutana—a piece of land near the JaF site that has been liberated from market forces. JaF sells 4x4 meter plots to different owners, with the goal of creating a large, collectively owned tapestry of land purchased from the local government. This evolving food forest is interspersed with rice fields that have been carefully excavated after years of cultivation, allowing the fertile layer beneath to be turned into clay for ceramics. As we walked through the fields, I tried to imagine the thickness of the clay beneath us. Moreover, I finally began to understand their circulair approach towards the land, the clay, the craftsmanship, and the food chain.

Back at JAF, Peter’s roof prototype was nearing completion. The Gardu Palace, as it was called, would be a place of community governance, a symbol of Jatiwangi's future as a ceramics city that could sustain its own food production and maintain its identity. Peter added the final touches to the plaque—an image of a rooster.  In Indonesian, "rooster" and "shelter" share the same root word: Gardu.

As the week came to a close, I reflected on all we had done. JAF was more than just a space for art—it was a vision of how communities could reclaim their future, even amidst the pressures of industrial globalism and the weight of colonial legacies. Our visit wasn’t about passive observation; it was about becoming part of a place where land, people, and culture are intrinsically woven together. A place where friendship, kinship, and trust form the very fabric of life. And for a brief moment, we were woven into that fabric, too.