Scrolling through Nuanu’s TikTok account, one comment in one of its posts stood out: “To be honest, I still don’t understand what’s Nuanu for.” It’s not just a passing thought; 49 others have upvoted the comment, supposedly echoing the same curiosity—and confusion—as to what Bali’s new and self-billed ‘creative city’ is about.
Tucked away in Beraban village, Tabanan Regency, an hour away from I Gusti Ngurah Rai International Airport, the Nuanu location feels almost like a secret. It cuts through the painstakingly congested roads of Canggu, only to be appeased by the sight of rolling rice fields as the road pulls you further north. Just when you think you’ve reached the destination, another 30 minutes of travel leads to narrow streets flanked by wild trees, villas still under construction and occasional tourists riding horses from nearby ranches.
Soon after, the sight of narrow paths shifted to a vast landscape where two colossal figures rise from the hillside—familiar to anyone who’s Googled Nuanu. They’re “Earth Sentinels”, towering humanoid busts by South African artist Daniel Popper that mark the entrance to Nuanu. For first-timers, it can feel like crossing into another realm, one reeling in anticipation of what Nuanu has set up behind. Yet the experience remains shrouded in intrigue, mirroring the ambiguity that Nuanu still represents for many.
Dreamed up by Russian entrepreneur Sergey Solonin, Nuanu sprawls across 44 hectares of land alongside the rugged cliffs and black-sand shores of Nyanyi Beach, not far from the sacred Tanah Lot temple.
Electric shuttles, mopeds and bikes are often seen scurrying around Nuanu getting guests to places—be it to Oshom, a beautiful beachfront boutique hotel with a treehouse nestled in mangrove forest; Lumeira Spa, the mixed-gender social wellness oasis attracting those who love to sweat it out in their large wood-fired dome sauna; The Magic Garden, an ecological sanctuary for native butterflies breeding and plants; and the buzzing Luna Beach Club featuring restaurants, multiple pools and an amphitheatre-style space where they host the annual SUARA music festival.
Since construction began in 2020 and was launched in phases, starting from the opening of Luna Beach Club last year, Nuanu has gradually unveiled these new spaces in hopes of drawing visitors beyond the obvious allure of its popular beach club. In particular, for people to get behind their idea of a creative ecosystem, where artistic expression informed by art, nature and technology, sustainable innovations, and collaborative exchange, can take root.
Today, this grand idea is slowly making its presence known. Amongst the manicured pools, comfy daybeds, and the pink floating mattresses of Luna Beach Club stands a behemoth landmark of Tri Hita Karana Tower, a 30-metre tower constructed entirely from rattan and ulin (ironwood). The first permanent installation by French architect Arthur Mamou-Mani in Asia, guests can climb up its 180 steps for an embracing view of the Indian Ocean on one side and the vastness of Nuanu compound on the other.
But true to its name—nu-anu, meaning “in the process” in Balinese—it wants to continuously be responsive to new ideas.
When the sun hits, the structure highlights the material’s natural patina and impressively curved forms; by night, the tower’s 1000 embedded light fixtures transform it into some kind of a futuristic lighthouse shining upon Nuanu, made arresting through colourful projection mapping. Balinese bamboo and rattan artisan Chiko Warhadi, alongside a team of local craftsmen, also helped the French artist in weaving the tower’s intricate latticework.
This level of artistic investment might seem like a given. But Nuanu seems to aim further, showing what’s possible when a strong community joins the mission and actively creates. An eight-minute walk from Luna Beach Club is a place that hones this commitment to a deeper scale: Nuanu’s Art Village.
Like entering an enchanting hamlet, the open space merges an art studio with a children’s learning centre where they are structured beneath bamboo-shaded huts. Everywhere the eyes set on, handcrafted creations come into contact: the sculptural rattan pieces that make you wonder about the hours put into it, the painted bird nests swaying from tree branches, to dragon-shaped wooden creations sculpted from driftwood gathered along Nyanyi Beach.
Managed by master artisan I Wayan Sunarnita—who showcased his Ogoh-Ogoh sculpture at the Burning Man Festival in Nevada last year—here, artists, craftsmen, and practitioners gather for studio time, engaging in Nuanu’s art-oriented initiatives that include its own eight-week artist residency. Guests can witness the seeds of their creation firsthand or immerse themselves in the experience through workshops like weaving a palm leaf hat, and strike some conversations with the on-site artisans.
But these rattan creations don’t just stay within the Art Village—they spill into the landscape of Aurora Media Park, Bali’s first immersive multimedia park set along a one-kilometre trek within Nuanu’s jungle riverbank. As visitors wander through towering bamboo groves and take in its humid tropical surroundings, they’ll encounter eight site-specific installations designed by creative multimedia company Delivered Global, where light and sound projections stimulate the jungle with almost-glaring colours and sounds.
One afternoon at the Art Village, over a casual lunch of ayam betutu served on wide banana leaves unfurling across the table, Bali-native Ida Ayu Astari Prada, Nuanu’s Director of Brand and Communication, shared some of the milestones that have shaped this enclave: from dedicating 70 per cent of the land to green space, reinvesting 5 per cent of every Nuanu project’s revenue into social and environmental initiatives under Nuanu Social Fund, to the fact that almost 90 per cent of employees in Nuanu are locals, its decision-makers are mostly women—a welcomed change where it counts.
“Our commitment is to create something that is not only in Bali, but of Bali.” – Ida Ayu Astari Prada, Nuanu’s Director of Brand and Communication
But the question of how Nuanu fits into Bali’s foreign-dominated tourism landscape isn’t lost on visitors—or on Ida herself. Some see it as yet another high-profile project reshaping the island, particularly amidst the growing Russian-backed developments. Ida, however, sees Nuanu as a natural evolution of Bali’s story, one that moves beyond conventional tourism models.
“Bali has long been a dynamic canvas for cultural exchange, tourism and hospitality. Nuanu was created with the understanding that development should not come at the expense of our culture and environment,” said Ida. “Our commitment is to create something that is not only in Bali, but of Bali.”
At first glance, Nuanu may come across like another curated playground, its polished aesthetic drawing easy comparisons to other creative retreats in a paradisiacal location. But true to its name—nu-anu, loosely translated as “in the process” in Balinese—it wants to continuously be responsive to new ideas.
As such, new spaces continue to emerge: the Red Tent, a women-only sanctuary for creative and cultural exchange; Eugene Museum, a gallery-library hybrid led by Japanese-American artist Eugene Kangawa, with a building designed by renowned architect Andra Matin currently in development; and most recently, the announcement of Art & Bali, the island’s first international contemporary art fair, set for September this year.
In all its ambitious scale, Nuanu peels back a new layer of experience with every visit, each discovery of the space tracing back to its bold integration of art, nature and technology. To truly grasp the scope of Nuanu is to approach it with curiosity and an openness for what it is trying to achieve as a ‘creative city’, one grounded in an acute awareness that its future is still being shaped in real-time—always shifting, always in the process.
