The man behind a
thousand masks
Djoko Rendy claims he’s not an artist. Frequently. Like the
Player Queen in Hamlet, does he protest
too much?
His rejections seem sincere, not a sly attempt to suggest the
reverse rules. Self-taught Djoko, 55, has long worked in modelling, painting
and mask making. He favors the
pirate-style bangles and beads fashion statements beloved by Indonesian
creative males, but it’s clear he’s more a dabbler and dreamer than grand
master of the palette.
Perhaps his denials have more to do with respecting
champions of their craft whose work hangs on Djoko’s Malang studio waiting for
the right buyer to appear.
That’s likely to take time for the dirt-floored exhibition
space, originally landfill for a former trash tip, is precariously perched down steep mossy
steps above the litter-strewn Brantas River.
Recent flooding has already eroded the sidewalk outside and a chasm
looms.
Djoko, who is also a bush handyman with a neat style in bamboo
pole lashing, knocked together the studio using money from a car sale. He lives here with his librarian wife Maria
Carmela and son Ndaru Lazarus, 8. The
couple are also collectors; their tastes are eclectic, ranging from sublime Mary,
the mother of Jesus, to topless Ratna Dewi, one of founding president
Soekarno’s nine wives.
Although located in the center of the East Java city, just a
chirp and a splash from the bird and fish markets, the open-sided gallery with
no humidity controls would drive professional curators to hang themselves
rather than their art.
But it does show what can be done with little money coupled
with a determination to inspire.
“It makes me so sad to see young people with such little
knowledge of their heritage,” Djoko said. “I put several proposals to the
mayor’s office for projects that might halt that trend and attract tourists.
“However all were rejected – until I had the idea of
celebrating one of our great traditions that’s in decline – mask making. Not just a few, but a thousand.”
Malang is Majapahit heartland. The Hindu-Buddhist fiefdom ruled much of
present-day Indonesia and nearby countries before collapsing in the 16th
century, probably through family feuding.
Most survivors moved to Bali though remnants remain in
villages around Mount Bromo, along with some of the ancient myths and crafts
that Djoko wants to celebrate.
The Nagarakretagama poem in the National Museum in Jakarta
tells of King Hayam Wuruk [1334 - 1389] dancing with a gold mask. It’s one of the earliest records of wayang gedog, the East Java mask dances
that focus on the loves and adventures of the mythical hero Prince Panji.
Djoko said there were 84 different masks representing
characters in the stories – other alleged authorities reckon there are only
60. One of the delights in encountering
East Java history is that facts are few and interpretations many.
This became clear on a Sunday morning this month (18 Jan) when
hundreds of women, men and kids gathered to show off their culture, interests, talents
and pride. Djoko may lack the finest
artistic abilities, but the upside is that he seems to inspire self-expression.
What organizing committee member Siti Hardiyanti described
as “a genuine gotong royong
[community self-help] event with minimal official support” soon became obvious.
There were no politicians making pompous speeches, which was
a relief. But when the participants paraded past the town hall, down to the
railway station and back again the roads – all major thoroughfares - stayed
open. Which created the unimaginable - chaos
greater than usual.
Further proof of the event’s authenticity was its lack of
political correctness. Jovial salesman
Rudi Yused 36, turned up as a Nazi SS officer, unconcerned that if he did the
same in Germany riots would erupt.
What did this have to do with Indonesian culture? “I just want to be different,” he said. “I’ve got uniforms from many countries,
including Japan.”
Others chose to represent the colonialists they overthrew
almost 70 years ago, wearing sackcloth khaki, draping their onthel [vintage bicycles] with
bandoliers of ammunition, scabbards and saddlebags. In Europe they would have been arrested at
gunpoint by anti-terror squads – in Malang they were cheered by unthreatened
crowds.
Heading the parade were statues of King Brawijaya’s son Prince
Bathara Katong and Princess Dewi Songgolangit, figures from legend and a real
or imagined history. They were
shouldered by brawny men led by Ki Genter Pamungkas carrying a carved stick.
The 87-year old happily attributed his sprightliness and longevity
to art, exercise, patience and smoking hand-rolled kretek [clove flavored] cigarettes in a holder carved from a cow
horn.
Like stormtrooper Rudi, the yellow-toothed nicotine addict
would have been rapidly evicted from a similar parade in Australasia by health
and safety officials for setting a bad example. Particularly to the youngsters
in the Drumb [sic] Band behind, led by baton twirling Nia Purwati. Though a
year short of her teens she displayed all the confidence and flair of a veteran
performer.
“I came because I want my children to know about East Java
culture,” said food seller Panji, 28, with his six year old son Ananda riding
pillion. “I really enjoy learning about
history and the old days.”
The lion-head, peacock-feathered seni reyog dance from nearby Ponorogo has been well documented in
academic journals, but how the band and bull fights fitted in was another
conundrum.
The boys sweating under their black costumes were more
interested in charging their bovine rivals than discussing anthropology. Goring a few Hondas helped clear the road for
performers. Which all goes to prove that culture which evolves is culture that
thrives.
Sadly no Europeans were seen in the crowds lining the
streets. If there was any coordination
with tourism officials the results weren’t obvious.
Concluded Djoko: “It was a great, positive, spectacular
experience for everyone, participants and onlookers. About 240 children were
involved. We didn’t quite reach our goal but we got hundreds of masks
made. I hope we’ll do it every year. I
feel proud.”
(First published in The Jakarta Post 28 January 2014)
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