Ambang

Saharudin builds sculptural assemblages from reclaimed wood, drawing on the architectural language of the traditional Malay house. His materials, meranti, chengal, and merbau, are hardwoods salvaged from older structures, and they arrive in his studio already weathered, cracked, and marked by the joinery of previous lives. He keeps these traces visible. Rather than reconstructing a house, he reassembles its grammar: beams, frames, thresholds, the corners where a structure turns. The result is closer to memory than to architecture, a set of fragments held in conversation with one another. The work asks what knowledge is carried in old wood, in the way a beam was cut to fit a particular climate, in the joint chosen for the weight it had to bear. Saharudin treats these fragments as carriers of a building intelligence that the contemporary city has mostly forgotten how to read.