Places Of The Heart: Wander and wonder at Changi Airport with architect Jonathan Christian Chin

Who: Mr Jonathan Christian Chin, 34, is a Singapore-registered architect who has amassed an award-winning portfolio that includes public, residential, mixed-use and civic space design through his local and international stints.

He graduated from the National University of Singapore’s (NUS) Department of Architecture in 2017 with a master’s degree in architecture. During his time there, he garnered honours such as the Lee Kip Lin Medal for Best Graduation Dissertation in History and Theory of Architecture, and the Aedas Medal and Prize in Architectural Design.

After graduating, he worked at acclaimed architectural practices such as DP Architects (DPA) in Singapore and Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG) in Copenhagen.

In 2021, outside of work, he co-created a place-making installation, called Park Yourself, with his wife Pearlyn Chang, who is 31 and a landscape architect.

Their design of an Instagrammable, pandemic-resilient playground – which was shown at indoor and outdoor spaces around Singapore – won the URA-Redas Spark Challenge award in 2021. It also received the Singapore Good Design Award in 2023, attesting to Mr Chin’s commitment to inclusive, community-focused design.

In 2022, he joined BIG, headquartered in Denmark’s capital, to expand his perspective on sustainability and radical innovation.

In Copenhagen, he collaborated with some of the brightest minds in the industry and worked on architectural projects across Europe and Asia, gaining insights into differing design methodologies and cultures.

Based in Singapore, Mr Chin works independently while giving back to the architectural community by mentoring students as a guest reviewer at NUS. He also serves as a council member at the Singapore Institute of Architects, where he champions young architects and fosters a culture of appreciation for good design in Singapore.

“My first choice of a place of the heart would definitely be Changi Airport. It is a space in Singapore where architecture, emotion and memory converge.

We all seek different kinds of reprieve. Some people find it in nature, some in retail therapy, others in special architectural spaces.

But I have always felt that Changi Airport brings all those worlds together, especially in a city like Singapore, where heat and rapid pace are constants.

One gets the greenery without the sweat, the quiet without isolation and the motion without chaos.

It is not just about the airport facilities, but also what the space allows: a moment to breathe.

In 2022, my wife and I took the big leap to Copenhagen, where both of us were fortunate to join the Bjarke Ingels Group, one of Europe’s top design firms, to grow professionally and explore the world.

When living abroad for long spells, opportunities to return to Singapore for a break become quite emotional.

Walking through Changi after being overseas, I still feel quiet pride.

Whenever I return home, I prefer to linger rather than rush to the exit. Sometimes, I wander through Jewel, not to shop or sightsee, but just to walk, wander and wonder.

It does not just mark my journeys, but also quietly holds the ‘in-between’ moments. Those intervals are often where I find the most meaning.

Changi Airport also holds a treasury of nostalgia for me.

As a student, I used to spend late nights at the viewing gallery of Terminal 2 (T2), one of the few 24-hour sanctuaries in Singapore.

I would study through the night while watching aircraft take off and land, mindful of the irony that the constant motion of planes against the sky seemed to nudge me to be more focused in my thinking.

There is something therapeutic about plane-spotting – the rhythm of arrivals and departures mirroring the cadence of life.

Also, my relationship with the airport is both personal and inherited.

When I was growing up, my father Ignatius Chin worked at Changi Airport Group (CAG) as part of a team involved in the construction of Jewel from 2014 to 2019, a chapter of his career he is incredibly proud of.

Although he is no longer with us, those scenes are etched in memory, shaping my understanding of urban spaces and belonging.

He regaled us with tales about Jewel’s design process, the immense coordination that went on behind the scenes and tiny details such as how they designed the Skytrain to pass through what is now called the Shiseido Forest Valley; and the complexity of the contiguous grid shell of the dome that had an outsize design impact.

At the time, I did not fully grasp the significance, but I remember how animated he became when recounting his experiences.

Through him, I later had the rare opportunity to meet the architect behind Jewel, Mr Moshe Safdie. As a student back then, I was still trying to understand what architecture meant beyond drawings and deadlines.

Mr Safdie was warm and insightful, and the encounter left an indelible imprint by humanising architecture for me.

It then became clear that Jewel was not just a building.

It was also an idea that brought people together through light, landscape and scale.

When friends visit from overseas, I do not just pick them up from the airport. I also guide them through the different terminals, starting from Jewel.

If it is an early morning arrival, the tour starts with a leisurely breakfast at Ya Kun Kaya Toast, with cups of locally roasted coffee and pillowy toasted bread.

Stepping into Changi Airport, whether travel-related or simply for a quiet break, helps me to reset my perspectives.

Today, even when I am not travelling, I visit Changi regularly as I live in the eastern part of the island.

I find that cycling via the Jurassic Mile helps me decompress after a long day at work.

Other times, I catch a late-night film at the basement of Terminal 3, which has round-the-clock screenings of movies and live sports events.

Growing up with the aviation landmark in the background shaped how I view space today.

My father’s stories and my own quiet rituals are fragments that form a larger collage centred on connection.

Changi Airport is the place where I first learnt that architecture can move people – both literally and metaphorically.”