A “creative city” on the west coast of Bali combines nature, art, and technology in previously unseen ways.

Aurora Park features art installations that use generative AI; a scene from July’s Suara Festival. — *Left to right*: Aurora Media Park features art installations that use generative AI; a scene from July’s Suara Festival. (All photos courtesy of Nuanu)

Walking up the path toward the distant beats of a DJ set, I was awe-struck by two colossal concrete statues standing sentinel on either side. Each was a behemoth human bust, towering at least 10 meters above those walking beneath their serene gaze. Like me, most passersby couldn’t help but stop and stare, entranced by the continually evolving light displays playing across each face. The bright swirling colors stood in sharp contrast to the dusky sky beyond.

No, this isn’t Burning Man, though the comparison has been made. It’s Nuanu, a “creative city” spanning 44 hectares on western Bali’s Tabanan coast, not far from the sacred sea temple of Tanah Lot. Still a work in progress, the ambitious residential development also aims to be a creative hub where the boundaries between nature, art, and technology are blurred — a somewhat freewheeling proposal that is underpinned by the name itself — nuanu is a Balinese colloquialism for “in process.”

Unlike Burning Man, however, Nuanu is both permanent and — as the brainchild of one extremely wealthy Russian — the product of those capitalist systems Burning Man seeks to reject. Sergey Solonin is the tech tycoon behind the development, and his nationality certainly brings plenty of side-eye to the project. Since the onset of the war in Ukraine, Bali has seen a massive influx of Russian expats making themselves at home here, and not everyone is happy about it.

Yet given all the scrutiny paid to the rapid rise of Russian and other foreign-funded developments in Bali, Nuanu seems to have dodged the worst of it. This could be in part due to its founder’s rather lofty aspirations, which go well beyond selling expensive villas and townhouses. Community support, cultural preservation, and sustainability are central to Solonin’s vision.

On my July visit, it was impossible to overlook Nuanu’s commitment to supporting art and artists. The three-day Suara Festival is one example: a ticketed event held in July, it saw international and regional musical acts play on the seaside cliffs of Nyanyi Beach, alongside traditional Balinese performances, wellness workshops, and food pop-ups.

In addition to an artists-in-residence program and multiple gallery spaces, visitors can tour the rotating art installations at the THK Tower and Aurora Media Park. Designed by French architect Arthur Mamou-Mani in collaboration with local artisans, the former is an interactive, 30-meter-tall structure with a design based on the golden ratio. Built from rattan and ironwood, it takes its inspiration from the Balinese philosophy of Tri Hita Karana — the concept of harmony between people, nature, and the divine. In Aurora Media Park, guests walking along a nature trail encounter glowing LED creations designed to reflect aspects of Balinese mythology. As artists create these installations using generative AI, they are constantly evolving, allowing for new experiences with each visit.

The bamboo architecture of Nuanu’s Luna restaurant; designedby Arthur Mamou Mani, Nuanu’s showstopping THK Tower is a hybrid art-AI architectural landmark. — *Left to right*: The bamboo architecture of Nuanu’s Luna restaurant; designed by Arthur Mamou Mani, Nuanu’s showstopping THK Tower is a hybrid art-AI architectural landmark.

While these are ultimately examples of foreign artists interpreting Balinese culture through their works, Nuanu also makes sure no installations are signed-off on without explicit approval from local community leaders. Ditto its corporate social responsibility fund, which cannot be deployed without inputs and approvals from surrounding villages, to ensure local traditions are honored in as authentic a way as possible.

Some applaud Nuanu’s creative efforts to empower its Balinese neighbors; others see it as a convenient way to legitimize the grand, futuristic vision of a billionaire’s playground. In the end, it might be both.

On the sustainability front, Solonin has pledged to building on only 30 percent of the site, leaving the rest to nature. He also employs a team of 100 to carry out projects ranging from conservation to waste management. During the Suara Festival, for instance, the team delighted attendees with a spectacular butterfly release aimed at regenerating populations of some of the rarest specimens of these majestic pollinators. Existing trees have been integrated into the project’s layout or replanted. Upcycling is also a priority — the THK tower itself is built from reclaimed railway timber. Nuanu is also home to the showroom of Phoenix Eco-tech, a sustainable design company that creates products like chairs and construction materials made from recycled plastic waste.

As a hub for innovation and showcasing better approaches to conservation and nature-sensitive development, Nuanu is definitely ahead of the curve. Yet even these efforts are not enough to make up for the sheer scale of such a massive complex. The mini-city’s carbon footprint is minimally curbed by a smattering of solar panels, but it would need far more renewable energy installed to call itself truly “eco-friendly” — something Solonin and his partners can likely afford but haven’t committed to yet.

Regardless, its public areas have become a popular destination for locals and tourists, who come to walk a garden zone replete with an orchid gallery and outdoor sculptures, ogle the innovative architecture, or play at the Luna Beach Club, where a waterslide funnels swimmers to a cliffside bar and the restaurant sports an umbrella-like roof of twisting bamboo. A boutique hotel will open soon above the site’s black-sand beach.

There’s also Lumeira Spa, a phone-free environment for traditional Balinese massages, sauna and cold-therapy, and even sound healing sessions hosted in the world’s largest wood-fired dome, built to accommodate up to 30 people at a time.

It’s all very impressive, though one questions whether Nuanu’s model of community living is one that can scale beyond its place as a retreat for the privileged. Still, after spending time there, I couldn’t help but feel hopeful. On an island that often seems to prioritize profit over people, culture, and nature, Nuanu offers a much more balanced path. Like the statues standing guard along its pathways, Nuanu is a larger-than-life spectacle — and it’s definitely getting people’s attention.

Ultimately, this still-evolving experiment raises important issues about the future of community living. Nuanu is a place where art and technology meet in breathtaking displays, but also where the line between creative utopia and luxury retreat can sometimes blur. Whether it represents the future of sustainable living or simply another playground for the rich remains to be seen.

This article originally appeared in the October/November 2024 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“Brave Nuanu World”).

Nuanu: The Development with an Eye on Bali’s Future

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