Copyright © Jennifer Dudley (Sri Rahayu Indrawati)

9 Extracts
Selected Snapshots from Indonesia
Jakarta, Yogyakarta 2001

Jennifer Dudley

Perth, 18 September 2001

Extract 1 ...Early in June 2001, I received an unexpected personal invitation from the National Library in Jakarta to attend an Exhibition and Seminar celebrating 100 years since Sukarno's birth. I saw this also as an opportunity to complete work on my film and Thesis about artist Lucia Hartini, and conduct further research on documentary film there, following through on a paper written from a presentation given at the Australian International Documentary Conference last March. I was fortunate to receive enabling funding from Murdoch University here in Perth, where I am a Postgraduate student.

I also found myself caught up in the full swing of Jak-Art, an Arts Festival held in conjunction with Jakarta's Birthday celebrations, where I was able to view an amazing array, - a plethora of art exhibitions and public art events, and document one particular performance. It was an opportunity to reflect about the past in the present, to catch up with old friends and make new ones. Themes of reviewing a time of sectarian conflict, bloodshed, rape and chaos just so recently past and coming to terms with what this might say about the way Indonesians felt at the time, together with the hope and inscription of new formations for renewal and change born of such analysis which were much in evidence in art and performance, music, film and video in mid-2001.

Extract 2 ... Many artists have continued the collective ethos of the "Reformasi" era of nation-wide protest with group actions, performances, installations and exhibitions, with discussions and related events, manifested often on a  large-scale. The explosive energy and party atmosphere of two years ago has been rechannelled by a need to take stock of much of what has happened. It has taken a while for many Indonesians to digest the horrors of the mass rapes of women, and the ongoing violence, originally of protest but now of frustration, as well as that which has crystallised as ethnically sectarian and religious in nature. All of the women artists whom I interviewed this time dwelt upon this topic at length, but now their comments are perspicacious and forceful, drawn from an overview in which they see themselves as players rather than victims. And all have other strategies besides the making of art.

In Lucia Hartini's studio sits a small canvas, a triple portrait of her daughter, Handah, herself and her new husband, "Reformasi" activist, Moch. Operasi Rachman, and painted apparently by their respective hands She, the mother and mature woman sits between the other two. Their flying locks are intertwined, like tendrils in wild and tangled profusion, and above the head of each sitter rests a golden cakrawala. Each of these sacred weapons contains a particular power, potentially available to its owner, but only under certain specific circumstances. Lucia's is for use in war. One gains from the cakrawala, not the augmentation of some strength and power already possessed, but a supplementary one.

"Those rapes are our national shame, and NOT our shame as women. We must make sure this never happens again," said Dolorosa Sinaga in an interview with me one rainy Saturday in June, 2001. We sat in her studio as she busily worked on the last few sculptures for a forthcoming show and the space around us teamed with images of female resistance, grief, defiance, unification and empowerment. As her fingers energetically worked the clay, pulling and pressing it into shape she continued,

"It is up to us as Indonesian women. We have to organise and change the culture forever."

Extract 3 ... Money has not been so easy to come by over the last few years in Indonesia, and people are looking for other ways to protect themselves and their interests. Lawlessness, including non-violent youth protests as well as the random violence from militia-style groups of the disaffected have become a common feature of life in Indonesia, although in the case of Yogyakarta, a decision was made to give the latter no publicity. No longer is it a top down flow, and the defiance of authority is no longer restricted to the domains of artistic and cultural expression, but happens as a matter of course -- even in the police force. Everyone has something to tell the world. Banner-writing is a growth industry, exhorting amongst other things the need to stamp out "premanisme" and everyone says -- "well you must look after yourself, be careful in the street".

In describing this process, I am reminded of the great Lakon the Mahabharata, whose cycle I have been priviledged to follow twice in my life, firstly as Wayang Kulit in Yogyakarta in 1974 and secondly as theatre in Adelaide in 1984. More specifically, it is this particular story within the cycle which encapsulates for me one possible (and currently popular) contemporary contextualisation of the events unfolding in Indonesia during the time in which I was there.

This story, "The Churning of the Sea of Milk", also known as "The Spinning of Mount Mandara", is recounted by a professional bard to a band of noble hermits, ascetics living deep in the forest . His tale begins when two sisters discover the great world-horse Ucaisrawa, which has the power of flight.

"It sprang from the Sea of Milk from which it was churned, and the bard tells how the combined efforts of the Gods and Demons used Mount Mandara as their whisk to churn the oceans of the world, thus creating the first Tirtha Amerta, the holy water which is the Elixir of Eternal Life.  In this process of churning, the uprooted mountain was supported by Akupara, king of the turtles, and roped by the body of the snake Basuki. The gods held his tail and his head was steadied by the great snake Anantaboga at Wisnu's side,  and they pulled him back and forth. As they did so, smoke and fire and poison came from the mouth of Basuki , .......and the force of their work caused rocks to rain down from the mountain, and the trees of the great forest fell all over the place. Their crashing together caused great fires to start and sparks rained everywhere. A great roar like thunder issued from the depths of the sea and chaos reigned on earth. The animals fled the forest, but they were crushed by the falling trees and fell into the sea. All the fish and other marine creatures were crushed by the weight of the mountain and died as the sea bubbled and boiled from the churning and the poison which issued from Basuki's mouth. Saps and resins, plants and trees and flowers, flesh and blood oozed from the carnage on the mountain slopes and ran into the sea .

Seeing the fatigue and heat exhaustion of the demons and the gods, Indra, who had been sitting atop the mountain, meditated, and at once, clouds and lightning appeared, shielding the workers from the sun and causing great torrents of rain to fall, putting out the fires and washing all before it into the sea. And now the water of the sea turned to milk, and from this, butter, perfumed with fragrant flower essences floated to the surface. But still there was no Tirtha Amertha. The gods and demons, who were very tired, stopped, and asked Brahma to intercede with Wisnu, god of the waters, and help them. This Brahma did, and Wisnu granted them renewed energy. And they continued churning.

And suddenly, as they churned the Sea of Milk, a sun of 10,000 rays arose from the Sea, followed by the bright cool moon. And the goddess Sri emerged from the sea, clothed in white robes. And the goddess of liquor arose from the sea, as did the white horse, Ucaisrawa. The great jewel named Kastuba which Wisnu now wears on his chest -- a jewel which will grant any wish -- also emerged.

All of these creatures went to where the gods stood watching. And finally there arose from the foam of the creamy sea, the beautiful goddess Danwantari, carrying the white gourd Kamandalu, which held the Tirtha Amertha........

My choice of metaphor here is deliberate. I couldn't help but think that in the actual churning of the sea of milk, Gus Dur style, - or was it really Sukarno's ghost in the spirit of Kurna responsible for the chaos, - there is soon a pause which might allow for a new group of people to rise to prominence in Indonesia, - and very soon, - because the policies for facilitating reform are now there and their efficient and transparent implementation is sorely required. And if there really is democracy, there will be very many, rather than a few.

Artists and documentary filmmakers, as well as grass roots activists alike are attracted to this new domain, channeling the previously tumultuous energies of the protests of the "Reformasi" era, consolidating and recording the culture of activism in its constructive as well as critical phase as one more aspect of the democratic experiment in Indonesia.

Or they are engaged in work which re-examines aspects of the traditions of their cultural roots, as evidenced in the wonderful installation exhibition, "Santap Malam Bersama Sri" ("Enjoying the Evening's Rest with Sri") by a group of artists from ITB Bandung at the Museum Nasional in Jakarta, in June 2001. This re-examination takes many forms, be it Operasi and Lucia in search of traditional methods of healing and the wisdom of Semar and Ratu Loro Kidul, the Dewa accorded great respect by centuries of Javanese people, to the incredible burst of energy in the sphere of (ethno)-musicology which puts an indelible stamp on the cultural life of Yogyakarta through the efforts of Sapto Raharjo and his International Gamelan Festival and Djaduk Ferianto with Cafe Etniko. Yet for everyone who postulated Indonesia as "Negeri Aneh" -- "a Strange Country" -- or a poorly-governed one, there was another view expressed which supported the novelty of so many changes, including the changes of Presidents in rapid succession, (four in as many years) -- despite the impositions this placed on the average citizen in the street who were totally busy just trying to manage their lives in the chaos and make ends meet.

Yet all agreed that, despite the confusion, they felt far more involved now in the fate of their country as a nation, and that their views now mattered to their elected representatives, more so than they had ever done in the thirty years of Suharto's regime. And many expressed support for the Presidential vagaries and the political manoeuverings in the MPR and DPR, saying that Gus Dur was smart to use psychology in this way in order to break the patterns of the past. In future times, his strategies will be valued.

Extract 4 ..."It is the first time we have had the opportunity to really do this you know," I was told by a taxi driver in Jakarta.

"This is how to practice democracy. We have to learn it. After all, it happens all the time in your parliament, in England and America, and you don't even notice it any more, - but for us, we have only been free to do this since Gus Dur. Of course, we might try to do everything at once, but you see, we can now."

Ironically, this conversation was in early July 2001, and I began writing this a fortnight later on July 25th, 2001, one day after Megawati Sukarnoputri had been installed as the new President of Indonesia following the impeachment of Abdurrahman Wahid.

As for the citizens, now very conscious of the power of that citizenship, most feel that it is not enough to react, critique and protest, - but that one must be committed to following these critiques through into legislation, new structures, and sets of new social dynamics so that the momentum of "Reformasi" is not lost.

Extract 5 ... Lucia and Operasi expressed the view that this chaos lies in a belief for which "The Churning of the Sea of Milk" can once more be seen as an appropriate metaphor. According to them, too many Indonesians, in fact the country as a whole, under the New Order, had lost the vital individual and collective connection with the realm of nature, and therefore with the spiritual realms, thereby creating the discord and disharmony which has prevailed for so long. Perhaps the natural pluralism of unrepressed mass society has found self-regulation difficult, but there has to be a constructive compromise in nature's favour, or the chaos will continue until people come to their senses and really begin to respect their environment again and stop its despoliation. Instead, for the present, the resultant chaos has created many worlds, and in some ways, these are perceived by many to be operating hermeneutically -- that is, largely independently of each other, with occasional explosive correspondences and interactions between some of them, and very occasionally practical ones, but not between all with all. Sometimes, no matter how hard one searched for them, it appeared there were neither any particular patterns to these interactions nor was there evidence of coherent functional systems to facilitate them.

Despite democracy, there was a yawning chasm between this set of erratically interactive worlds and the practical world where people still had a daily struggle to survive. This did not exist because of ideology, a compelling lack of popular support, or because all those in the political worlds were disproportionately rich or powerful as had been the case under Suharto. The disjunctures existed because, despite considerable efforts to eradicate past systems, change by way of reforming the operation and legitimacy of all branches of the national governmental assembly, administrative apparatus and judiciary seemed to have encountered endless difficulties since the elections of 1999. And because, in June 2001, there existed a political hiatus, as all awaited the outcome of moves to impeach President Abdurrahman Wahid, the choice of the new President and selection of a her governing team.

Unable to read the situation in any more meaningful way, I chose to focus on the world of artists and musicians whose aim was quite simply to be, to make, to perform, and to enjoy. In the trajectory leading to this particular atmosphere, the formerly finely honed critiques and pertinent plays of meaning required to bypass the exigencies of repression during the New Order had given way first to wild emotion and unthinking expression, be this celebratory, reactive or vindictive, and then to an explosion of frustration, prejudice and rage, in a blind attempt to settle old scores. But in its productive manifestation, this had also lead to a time of re-channelling energies, and of experimentation on all fronts. I can still see the vegetables planted all around Salemba prison in Jakarta! Others, possibly more prescient, claimed it was a time of waiting in judgement, a mood I had somehow accidentally captured in my short film "CONE" plus its accompanying paper "Meditations on a Witches Hat" which, given electronic publication, seems to have been widely disseminated in Indonesia.

I did not realise that in the space of 18 months, aspects of this 6 minute film, set around a night ride through Yogyakarta, would come to resonate so strongly with friends in Indonesia. As a film-maker I felt rewarded that at some level I could sense and sketch the possibility of the fascinating mix of energy and confusion described in this article, - but glad that I could neither predict nor define the events to come. And a meditation about my perceptions and ruminations on the philosophies at play in situations of massive social and political change, as these quietly floated to the surface of my consciousness in the magic of that inspirational night ride through Yogyakarta in August 1999. I simply noted that, whereas in the past, my thoughts had stopped with this magic, the province of nostalgia, for the first time I was also asking "What will happen here next?"

Extract 6 ...  On this most recent visit to Yogyakarta, I spent time with another artist friend, A. Eko T., one of Lucia's peers from the early 1980's. Now living quietly with his wife and young daughter on the slopes of Mount Merapi, Yogyakarta's famous volcano -- in a simple but innovatively designed house and studio which they have built, Eko made a point of telling me that the mountain has itself become almost perfectly cone-shaped due to its continual and frequently terrifying volcanic activity of recent years. This was despite the intervention of Maridjan, the Juru-Kunci (Royal gate-keeper) and a traditional folk hero esteemed by many, who has fed the volcano many propitiatory sacrificial chickens since the downfall of Suharto. (Lucia, always highly appreciative of Maridjan and his powers, had also recounted this story to me by telephone, and I note with interest that the local press, "Bernas" religiously chronicled the old man's valiant efforts. Their stories were subsequently picked up by several news groups like John Darling's "Indon group" on <Joyo@aol.com>, but I am unsure whether this was because they were regarded as positive examples of political synchronicity and the power of metaphorical allusion, or because they provided ammunition for those wishing to paint Indonesia in an atavistic light.)

Personally, I just enjoy the story, whilst subscribing to the first option. Tradition does not cease to manifest in Central Java, although in terms of the various approaches now adopted towards it by local artists, it is no longer the single most dominant theme in their paintings, as evidenced in Eko's work. Formerly a painter of sweet, almost Chagall-like allegorical paintings of the fantastic aspects of daily life and human interaction, and despite the undeniable charm of his abode, Eko's canvases now teem with crowded groups of chaotically-networked figures, in sombre hues. Instead of a physical space, he now paints a psychological and emotional one.

"The riots and their aftermath" he says, gesturing towards the canvases around the upstairs room. "This is us now. We are a nation waiting in judgement -- not always peacefully -- like waiting to be sentenced and we can't escape. There are too many signals, too much is confused -- without any clear new order. Bad things happen, and those that are full of promise go awry. Like the death of Baharuddin Lopa. We really needed him for the sake of human rights and law reform."

How often I have heard that kind of statement in Australia in relation to visionary leaders in the Aboriginal domain.

Operasi, having got his hundred small paintings to Jakarta early in 2001, only to find that the gallery refused to download them from the truck, told me he thought that for him anyway, painting was now a waste of time given conditions and that politics was not much better. It was far better to put energy into learning new things, including those from the past, and gaining strength for use later in unpredictable times. I thought also of my own choices since 1999. Back in Australia, I must have agreed. I had been pre-occupied with assembling possible montages of the material gathered in 1999, which by September 2000, had become the working draft of "BOUNDARIES", my film about Lucia and her work.

Extract 7 ... Two years ago, Lucia's sister Anna recounted to me why she had given up trying to work on a particular community handcraft design project in a village near Yogyakarta This was one of many schemes set up by NGOs and semi-governmental agencies in  the flush of enthusiasm following Reformasi, and Anna's story as to why she joined the scheme, as designer and craft skills trainer is not unique, but her idealism and reforming zeal were soon challenged, and despite the project's initial success, she became disillusioned. Pressures were placed on her and her team of female out-workers to cut corners with quality and mass-produce the chosen designs, but very few of the profits had been returned to the women and herself. As she felt she could not change things, given the combined workings of custom, gender, and the market-driven aspirations of the group's manager, she decided to leave and re-establish independently as a small business back in town, making the fine quality products which she was sure would succeed. This is where I filmed her as part of Lucia's story in 1999

Anna's product was delicate flowers and floral settings made from recycled natural fibres, like corn husks, and she employed a number of young women from the local kampung (village) and surrounding areas, including some who had followed her from her previous village project. Because she was interested in furthering non-sectarianism, she also employed two young women from Yogyakarta's Chinese community, and at the time I visited in 1999, she appeared to be doing well, although the business operated on the slimmest of profit margins. Since then, there has been great competition in this area. Unfortunately, and possibly inevitably, the inferior, cheaper products produced under the banner of "official" development in a kind of local variant of globally-manifested Third World development schemes hopefully posited as "alternatives to globalisation", appear to have won. I was not surprised to hear that Anna had eventually returned to practising painting and design independently and was now living in Jakarta. Like many younger women artists, she had also recently taken part in the April exhibition "Perempuan dan Disemenasi Makna Ruang/Women; - Giving Their Work Exposure" at the Galeri Nasional, curated by Ibu Cherry Salim to showcase the work of 15 emerging artists.

Extract 8 ...  The trend towards working within a community, a group or a team, which had long historic roots in Yogyakarta with its system of artists' "Sanggar" (shared studios), workshops and artist-initiates gallery spaces like Cemeti is now particularly strong in Jakarta, and fortunately, the economic chaos of recent years has provided many affordable and alternative spaces for artist-run initiatives. There is now a great desire to work in the public domain, to produce Public Art and works of this nature were a feature of this year's Jak -Art Festival, co-ordinated for the Festival's Visual Arts program by the young artists at Ruang Rupa. The first night I was in Jakarta, I was whisked away by arts reviewer Carla Bianpoen to Tenda Semanggi to visit Grace Siregar's work, comprised of a number of open-air installations, including her tree of light, whilst throughout my time there, I was constantly surprised by the sudden appearance of variously scaled and located more or less temporary public art installations in my forays across Jakarta by taxi and bus in the course of my official research. One remarkable and ambitious work, comprised of white banners stretched across a fence of bamboo frames poetically encircled the pond in the centre of "Bundaran" for one day, taking its shape from the interactions of the breeze which blows down Thamrin and the passing traffic, - a reminder of the popular actions which had transpired there since 1997. Such initiatives have broadened the formerly established New Order model for the aspirations of the successful artist, that of the individualistically-inclined and realised "Pelukis Senior," whose success was epitomised through building impressive studios with accompanying galleries. In Yogyakarta, members of this group chose to exhibit in a large group show, "Sebelas Windhu Purbakala" in a sparkling white extension of the Vredeburgh Museum, - a new space designated as being for everyone.

Extract 9 ... In the case of filming Iwan Wijono's performance, "Picnic Bersama Gelandangan/Picnic with Homeless People", we all had the opportunity to see how the presumed Media regulations might affect this activity. Given administrative change, no-one at Jak-Art knew any longer who to officially ask and, in this case, the nature of the permissions requested. We were filming homeless people and interviewing them, so in one sense, this could have been investigative television journalism or even "Reality TV", but we were recording "cultural product", in this case, Iwan's invitation to them to join him in a picnic of Coca Cola and Big Macs. Iwan was working out of a project begun in Mexico, a series of "picnics' made by a Mexican performance artist, which he wanted to develop for an Indonesian context. So we felt our activity was adequately covered by the categorisation of documenting art. Both camera people also filmed each other filming the event. In the first edit, the conversations of the "gelandangan"  were audible, but on presentation at Rumah Seni Air, the work had become less real and more "art". It didn't succeed for me in this form, because, when working as a documentary film-maker, I like to allow my subjects their voice where this is the intent of the video. Iwan however, wanted the video to carry his vision of the work as a performance about the impact of globalisation on marginal people in a metropolis. "They would never be expected to want to enjoy such food and such an event", he said.

All of us, with the possible exception of the "gelandangan", had used cyberspace as the facilitating device bringing us together. My only sadness was that when I asked Pak Asep, whom we had filmed to accompany me to the presentation, and join us in that way, he refused. He had enjoyed the picnic, he said, but the rest was our business. Had I asked the three park dwellers who were the last of Iwan's guests at the picnic, and who had some understanding of how their personal experience was situated within a wider economic whole, and some knowledge of how the media operated, my guess is they would have accepted -- and enjoyed themselves.

As part of the well-attended presentation, the rest of us engaged in an immensely productive debate on the subject, which was recorded on video by visiting Phillipino documentary film-maker Nick DeoCampo from the Mowell Film Institute in Manila. The digital realm is here to stay, and in so many ways, in terms of both the operation of its apparatus and its functioning strategies, presents us with materialised concrete manifestations of certain aspects of the spiritual domain. But, in the end, because the situation was Indonesia, so one must primarily talk and discuss in order that the action be progressed.

Copyright © Jennifer Dudley (Sri Rahayu Indrawati)