Keeping cool is essential in Singapore’s sweltering climate, so it’s unsurprising that air conditioning is ubiquitous here. About 99 per cent of homes have air conditioning,
the highest rate per capita in Southeast Asia, and cooling accounts for 18 per cent of the city-state’s electricity consumption and about 25 per cent of the electricity bill paid by the average Singaporean. That may sound like a necessary evil in the face of the humid 30-degree weather, but it has significant environmental consequences.

Cooling accounts for eight per cent of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions, says Iain Campbell, a senior research fellow and air conditioning analyst at the Rocky Mountain Institute, a global environmental NGO. And that’s the case when only rich countries like Singapore have widespread air conditioning; he expects cooling-related carbon emissions to soar as air conditioning becomes more common throughout Asia and Africa. “There’s a huge mountain looming in front of us,” he says.

That’s one of the reasons WY-TO—among other studios—keeps natural ventilation top of mind in its projects. “I always say to our clients, we’re here to fix what the original architects did not do well,” says Follain. “We’re looking to open up the spaces to have this movement of air that will help them feel cooler. And we’ve been doing that with [public housing] apartments and condominium units, and in historical buildings where it’s even more complex.”

The firm achieves this by removing as many non-structural walls as possible, replacing swing doors with pocket doors and even installing internal windows to open up spaces even more. “The principles of tropical architecture and vernacular architecture can be adapted to a modern lifestyle,” says Follain. “All of our clients are relying less on air conditioning. They’re having a better connection to the outside world.”

Wilkinson, who works mainly on upscale landed properties rather than apartments, says he always makes sure the roofs of his houses are as well-insulated as possible.
He also likes to incorporate pools or ponds into the landscape architecture because they naturally cool the air around them—the cool air that passes through the house if it is structured in a way that encourages cross-ventilation. “It’s not only something nice to look at, we use it as a cooling technique,” he says.

Sun shading is another essential tool to keep homes cool. In a high-rise, that could mean screens and other fixtures that facilitate air flow while filtering light. In a single-family house, it calls for overhangs and verandahs that keep interiors comfortable. “Roof overhangs are very important because they are shade the windows and protect the structure and walls of the house from heavy rain,” says Wilkinson.

Turning off the air-conditioning and enjoying a natural breeze can go a long way in reducing the amount of carbon a homeowner pumps into the atmosphere. But it’s only one step towards a more sustainable living environment. That’s because every wall, floor, countertop and piece of furniture in a house contains embodied carbon: the emissions created by producing and transporting any given material.

“Most of the materials we have here are imported, so to decarbonise, it’s quite challenging,” says Follain. His strategy is to source materials locally as much as possible. “There is a mindset that whatever comes from Europe is better but actually we have amazing materials coming from this region, so we like to focus on the materials closer to us,” he says.

This often means managing expectations. “We have amazing wood in the region, but this of course has an impact on the aesthetic.” For instance, Scandinavian minimalism may be all the rage, but the blonde wood crucial to that look isn’t available in the region. “Tropical wood tends to be darker and more reddish which goes against this [Nordic] fantasy,” adds Follain. He tries to convince his clients that sustainably sourced Asian wood is always a better choice, even if it doesn’t seem quite as fashionable at the moment.

Goy says her studio aims to use reclaimed wood as much as possible. “As the wood has aged over time, the grains become more pronounced, and the depth of the fissures are brought out in the timber,” she says. “This allows for a richer texture which highlights the beauty of wood, one which is not easily achievable with new timber.”

In one of her projects, Katong Gardens, she used reclaimed wood from Thailand for sliding doors and furniture, which gave a deep and lively texture to the living spaces. Another project, the Heng House, utilised discarded windows from Indonesia for a new internal and external facade. “They required treatment and touch-up
from local contractors here, but we were able to give them a new life as a whole wall of windows,” says Goy. “From discarded items, we were glad to transform them into not only a decorative pieces but also [create] a functional window wall as well.”

Goy’s studio has also been researching and exploring traditional materials such as banana-fibre paper and sisal weave. “Doing our own tests before we propose [such
materials] to our clients, we hope to explore the potential of these natural, low-energy options,” she says.

Any architect concerned with sustainability is faced with a dilemma: “In constructing, we necessarily [have to] destroy something,” says Follain. Even the most ecologically conscientious architect knows that building a new structure involves chopping down trees and pumping more carbon into the atmosphere through the manufacturing of concrete and steel. To that end, designers are now increasingly thinking not just in terms of sustainability but also of regeneration—architecture that seeks to do good rather than simply harm less.

To that end, much of WY-TO’s approach involves conservation: not just heritage conservation in the classic sense, but the adaptive reuse of any building that might otherwise face the wrecking ball, whether it’s a 19th century shophouse, a 1970s mixed-use complex or a 1990s condominium tower. Follain quotes Singaporean structural engineer Hossein Rezai: “Demolishing a large building is directly analogous to setting fire to a forest.” Why burn down the forest when you can water it instead?

Follain gives the example of a recent project that won the 2022 Tatler Homes Design Awards - Singapore in the Best Use of Colour category. Dubbed Colours of My Life, the home was originally a cluttered ground-floor apartment built in the 1980s. “The client’s family was mystified—why buy an old condominium apartment?” says Follain.

Still, the client saw its potential, and so did WY-TO. “We opened up the entire space and connected all the different spaces together up to a point where the client very rarely uses air conditioning,” he says.

The same logic was applied to a Tiong Bahru flat that was redesigned to ensure better ventilation in a neighbourhood growing increasingly stuffy due to surrounding high-rise development, and a revamped top-floor apartment that now includes an internal courtyard that serves as an open-air dining room.

It all comes down to the philosophy of finding ways to be as sustainable as possible in any given situation. “It’s not just about designing the space itself but you’re designing the space with what’s around it,” says Follain. He says the benefit is obvious not just for the planet but for the people inhabiting these spaces. “If you can feel the wind and hear the birds, it triggers something in your body that feels good. it’s the feeling of being connected with nature and being connected with people.”

An individual house or flat won’t change the world. “Whatever we are doing, it’s not enough,” admits Follain. But it’s a start.

NOW READ

Home tour: A Singapore courtyard house designed for ‘forgetting time’

Home tour: An architect’s eco-conscious bungalow in Singapore with artistic influences

Home tour: A minimalist Singapore house with amazing treetop views