Small fish in a big ocean? Young Art in Indonesia
Small fish in a big ocean?
Young Art in Indonesia
By Cesare A.X. Syjuco
Published in: The Manila Times, September 12, 1987
I HAVE heard it said more than once that the art of Indonesia is hopelessly steeped in archaic convention, limited to batik and religious ornamentation. The ongoing exhibit of recent Indonesian art at Kulay-Diwa Galleries in Sucat, Paranaque, should put an end to such idle talk.
Organized by that gallery’s budding young curator — the Asean-trained Yuan Mor’O (a.k.a. Juan Moire Ocampo) — the 50-odd works in a wide range of contemporary media from oils to photocopy and collage, betray the steady onslaught of westernization and the beckoning lure of The Big Apple. Twisted figuration, sporadic drips and swirls, a fondness for garish coloration and austere monochromatics, fractured text and implied narrative, and an emphasis on spontaneity and introspection dominate many of the pieces on display, obviously preoccupied as they are with stylistic prerogatives, the permutation of myth and symbolism, themes of alienation and angst, and the bravura commonly associated with patent self-indulgence.
Undoubtedly, that’s good news for some and bad news for others! If progress be the great white way, then Indonesian art is alive and well and riding gung-ho into the 21st Century on the stout shoulders of its young. But on the other hand, when viewed in the half-light of our own cultural paranoia, the very recourse to the term “progress through westernization” may be no more than a sleek excuse for paleface pollution.
That these young Indonesian artists are diversely talented is a matter readily conceded. For instance, Acep Zam Zam Noor’s anatomical variations extend beyond mere contortion into a rapidly transcribed dichotomy of energy and material form, less erotic than palpably sensuous. The small textural abstractions of I Made Bendi Yudha possess an almost confectionary charm, like turn-of-the-century milliner’s embroidery or hand-crafted papier mache embellishment. And Eddie Hara’s chronic irreverence dogs a distinctly personal iconography laden with cultural debris, whimsical incantations, and the detailed rape of traditional mores.
Others are not as apparently exciting. Singgih Hertanto’s swirling urban landscapes in oil and ink are deceptively simplistic, yet a compelling dynamism weaves and bends and winds through his clusters of residential structures like some malevolent undercurrent. Sutikno resorts to well-worn surrealist devices in his “Gua,” a backlighted mythological graveyard that seems strangely celebrational. Still others like Johannes Dyenar, Heri Dono and Hendro Suseno pare complex and turbulent outpourings into stylized, abbreviated notations, as lyrical as the dance of life that compels them.
Whether this emerging new wave of Indonesian visual artistry will simply breed more small fish for an ocean already vastly overpopulated, or whether time will see our regional brothers moving relentlessly forward with the tide, is a question best left unresolved for now. For us and for the meantime, the pleasure of discovery, of sharing visions previously rendered inaccessible by geographic circumstance, is valuable enough an experience.
(A small parting shot, made not entirely in jest: Tita Cory has said that the private sector must do its share to champion the common good — and more than incidentally, to take up the slack brought about by governmental ineptitude. It is good to know that even while our public cultural institutions are scratching around for their place in the sun, many of our private galleries like Kulaydiwa are taking on the greater challenge of furthering our creative horizons. And all is well that ends well!)
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Cesare A.X. Syjuco, “Small fish in a big ocean? Young Art in Indonesia” (page 1 of 1), The Manila Times, September 12, 1987
