Releasing the
imprisoned talent
Releasing the
imprisoned talent
Art as a career has a bad name in Indonesia. Across the
archipelago the same story repeatedly emerges in profiles of creative people:
Their childhood talents were acknowledged but the family forbade formal study
lest it interfere in the real purpose of life.
That meant being educated for a conventional profession. This
being a culture of obedience the smart kids dried their eyes and brushes, let
the paints harden and clay crumble. They became bankers and teachers, doctors
and public servants, earning money, raising families, being seen as respectable
and responsible.
In the case of Tatik Simanjuntak this meant training to be a
lawyer, though she has never donned the black cloak of jurisprudence.
Instead she wears workshop plain and practical, and does
what she wants – which is paint exquisite designs mainly drawn on glass. She
takes these from the Hindu / Javanese epics, the Mahabharata and Ramayana,
using wayang kulit figures but
providing her own subtle interpretations.
Although the term is usually translated as ‘leather puppets’
wayang is closely related to the
Javanese word for spirits – bayang.
For some the puppets are grotesque two-dimensional figures who jerk and gyrate their
way across a simple screen - poor guys’
TV. For others they are a glimpse into
another ancient world of magic and mystery. Only a few can enter that universe.
Tatik’s transition to professional artist is recent. She
felt she couldn’t move until her father passed away, lest he die distressed
because his daughter had disobeyed. It
wasn’t until 2007 that she was ready to uncage her spirit. By then she was 40
and a late starter indeed.
Has this caused problems?
“No, I don’t think so,” she said in her Malang studio. “That’s given me time to mature and know what
I want. I’ve never had formal lessons in art. I’m still developing and experimenting - I’ve
destroyed work that I don’t like.
“My friends from law school days are always facing problems
– I’m not. I don’t have a BMW but I’m
happy, and I want others to be the same. I hope that can be done through my
painting.
“I wasn’t a good student, just doing enough to pass. I preferred to write poems than take lecture
notes. I didn’t rebel – in Indonesian culture that could lead to a curse.”
Instead she’s been blessed. Her 20 square meter studio at
the back of the town hall, perched above the Brantas River slashed in the volcanic
rock far below. She’s in a cluster of similar buildings provided rent free by
the local government to encourage artists to develop their businesses.
It’s a good idea, though there’s little passing
traffic. Fine for a quiet work environment,
but not as showroom. Fortunately the few
who have found her have been the right people, including officials from the
Governor of East Java’s office who bought 20 original pieces as gifts for
diplomatic visitors.
“As a child in an army family we were constantly on the
move,” she said. “I was often sick and raised
by different relatives in different towns. I learned to adjust and adapt.
“I like working and being alone. At first I painted
portraits, but then started to draw from our culture. I realised the wayang figures were the first
true art in Java, caricatures of characters.
“I didn’t feel that I could change their features but I
could add different backgrounds and ornaments.”
After graduating she worked in a shop making handicrafts
before turning to her first love. Since then her art has been shown at
exhibitions in Bandung, Surabaya and Jakarta as well as her home city. Last year she sent more than 50 pieces to
Jakarta anticipating the sale of a couple.
All sold bar four. It seemed that
the once unwell child left to her imagination had found her place.
“As a child I loved to visit galleries and look at art books
by myself. I was attracted to the work of Rembrandt which is probably why my
work is in sombre tones.” The 17th century Dutch portraitist was
famous for his iconography, the careful inclusion of other images to strengthen
the principal feature, a style also followed by Tatik.
“When I lived with my grandmother she used to listen to
wayang stories on the radio,” Tatik said.
“I used to lie there awake, absorbing the tales and characters. I so
wish that children today were interested in our culture. Bimo is my favourite.”
Also known as Bima or Werkudara, Bimo is a frightening, but
soft-hearted figure – which might explain Tatik’s other passion – teaching art
to poor children. She started doing this
in Malang’s alun-alun, the town
square used by hundreds every day for chatting and recreation.
This led to an invitation to teach at Sunan Kalijojo, an
elementary Islamic kampong school where she works one day a week. Here she
encourages students to use their imagination to turn objects they find,
including rubbish like drinking straws and plastic cups, into art.
“I also tell them about the wayang and batik designs so
these are not lost” she said. “I have talent and I think it is the responsibility
of artists to try and pass their skills on to others, particularly if they
wouldn’t normally get that education.
“It’s hard to classify my work, or the sort of artist I am. I
find the medium of glass to be most satisfying, and it doesn’t matter if the
surface is flat or curved (as in big jars). Special inks imported from Europe
are used to make sure the pictures can’t be rubbed off. I’m still experimenting
and developing.
“There are many challenges.
Unlike canvas, glass can’t absorb.”
Glass painting was popular last century prior to the
Japanese invasion and is often classified as ‘folk art’ by gallery curators. A
reverse form was introduced from the Netherlands during the colonial era.
“Painting is expressing the wisdom of the heart,” Tatik
said. “There must be chemistry between the artist and the viewer. If I had
children I’d let them decide for themselves what they want to do with their
lives.”
First published in The Jakarta Post 10 September 2014)
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