The Indonesian Art World Beyond Museum Walls
When someone mentions art museum, what usually comes to mind is a modern and futuristic-looking architectural building with white, clean, and crisp interiors, where a collection of works of different mediums are shown in neat rows. Everything is aesthetic, speckless, distinct, and artificial. This type of composition of the art museum and gallery is often known to be the white cube, familiarized by art theorist, Brian O’Doherty. The main reason this conventional way of hanging gained its popularity has its main function in isolating the artwork from “everything that would detract from its own evaluation of itself,”[1] making sure that the artwork is subtracted of anything that could interfere with its interpretation. This removes the art from any outside contexts related to the artwork, intended for the audience to analyze and understand it purely from its own context. However, what this does, is removing any historical, cultural, and political context from the artwork, almost delineating it from the world.
On the other side of this spectrum is the usually non-profit and local art organization, doing the complete opposite by making most of the historical, political, and cultural contexts to be a part of the works. With that in mind, this essay will be discussing the significant role that smaller, artist-led, and often non-profit art organizations play in the formation of the Indonesian art scene. More particularly, this essay will focus on the Jakarta based collective organization called ruangrupa, as well as Yogyakarta based art house Cemeti. Although the essay will not be able to exhaust this topic to its fullest extent, discussions will be focused on texts and projects relevant.
Before stepping into the depth of this essay, perhaps, it is important to first understand that museums are Western invented themselves. Initially invented as a repository for items and objects during the Renaissance, it is hard to imagine a museum or a large-scale exhibition that is not Western centric. A good example to put this claim into further consideration is the recently opened and highly anticipated art museum in Jakarta, Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art in Nusantara (MACAN). The opening of Museum MACAN in 2017 is considered to be one of the biggest innovative steps of the art world in Indonesia. One can believe Museum MACAN to have a very “international” approach, with its target audience as the global society. The museum’s director, Aaron Seeto, is the former curatorial manager and director of two different art institutions in Australia. Fenessa Adikoesoemo, the museum’s chairwoman, have had extensive experience working in the museum world in Washington and New York. Both leaders of the museum were trained and established in Western art capitals before moving onto Museum MACAN. It is also worth noting that the interiors of Museum MACAN was designed by MET Studio Design Ltd., a firm based in London,[2] making it a westernized museum, both inside and outside (see Figure 1).[3]
Until today, Indonesian arts and its history is still constantly overlooked, and with the establishment of Museum MACAN, some of the locals and non-locals believe that the Indonesian art world is one step closer to becoming internationally recognized, even though the Indonesian art scene had already been there decades before the museum was built, creating a strong foundation for art to exist in the Indonesian society. Unfortunately, not everyone understands this.
Beyond the western cannon of international and prestigious art institutions are the smaller, independent, and horizontal organizations which “construct what it means to be global through artistic practices that emerge in the local context.”[4] These horizontal organizations call upon the limitations of global curatorship in larger art institutions and bring into play a more personal and local approach to art, as well as becoming alternatives for the commercial sectors of the art world.[5] According to Ana Bilbao, where in larger institutions, “the global localises itself by entering into a dialogue with a given location or, from a more pessimistic perspective, the global incorporates the local into is hegemonic logic,” smaller art institutions aim to “globalise themselves through modes of addressing that emerge in, and explicitly thematise, the local.”[6] Smaller art organizations are characterised by their “interest in the local community in which they are located, as well as in diverse urban issues ranging from new technologies to social art practices in their cities,”[7] giving more focus on the local — establishing an intimate relationship with the participants, whether or not they are art professionals.
During the 1990s, the emergence of smaller art organizations and institutions around the world took form as a response to the difficulties that artists face in their artistic productions in their respective countries. But apart from this, the smaller, sometimes artist-led organizations are built to give opportunities for unknown and emerging local artists to showcase their works, as well as to provide a safe space for these artists to produce art. These organizations also help connect the artists to larger international art communities beyond their regional boundaries, which will eventually push them into the international art market. In comparison to the larger established institutions’ concerns with the global, these horizontal, artist-led organizations are inspired and motivated by their local surroundings and engage with local issues around them,[8] and providing more opportunities for local artists to expand their career.
Unlike larger museums and art institutions, smaller art organizations have the benefit of making visitors feel more at home. Apart from the inevitable relevance that the local audiences will feel to the arts presented, they also appear to be less intimidating and overwhelming. When it comes to the mega-exhibitions and large art houses, both art and non-art lovers can often times feel alienated by the great ambitions that the exhibitions impose, their invasive nature, as well as the strict modes of behavior that are expected from the visitors.[9] Conversely, local visitors and audiences are able to engage with their own communities and would no longer feel alarmed by their lack of knowledge on contemporary fine arts, as everyone is welcome to enjoy the art at show.
Moving onto the Indonesian organization, Cemeti — Institute for Art and Society, established in Yogyakarta in 1988, is Indonesia’s oldest platform for contemporary art. Founded by artists Mella Jaarsma and Nindityo Adipurnomo, “Cemeti offers a platform for artists and cultural practitioners to develop, present and practice their work in close collaboration with curators, researchers, activists, writers and performers, as well as local communities across Yogyakarta.”[10] When they first started, Cemeti conducted their activities inside a rented house; which is something that a lot of post-1998 local initiatives used to do. Through this, the rented house was then slowly converted into a contemporary visual arts gallery in 1988, which became the house of Cemeti (see Figure 2).[11][12]
It is safe to say that Jaarsma and Adipurnomo introduced the term “contemporary” into Indonesia’s art world, as well as becoming the first organization which supported young Indonesian artists, connecting them to the international art industry. Before Cemeti opened, what was understood to be modern art in Yogyakarta were batik shops, and the way in which people viewed art were still very different. According to Adipurnomo, at the time “people still believed that art should show only the pleasant aspects of life and that it should, above all, entertain,” and so Cemeti aimed to “raise people’s consciousness that art can also be an important medium for dealing with social conflicts.” Cemeti also believes in the significant role that art plays in education apart from being a commercial commodity.[13]
Cemeti and other alternative initiative organizations were starting to be seen as medium-scale art institutions, as their rented houses became their headquarters, studio, exhibition spaces, music venues, and everything else in between. Essentially, this space became an alternative space for the artists-cum-activists — a place where there are no boundaries within the limits of art making, research, and conversation. Local values and inspirations also permeate through this alternative space, where each individual is able to share their respected positions equally with the community; there is no prejudice here, no art-school degree requirements, and no abuse of power, because everyone has a voice.
When projects are being shared to the local communities around these alternative organizations, the local communities participate in the activities, usually in forms of local festivities, workshops, celebrations, public screenings and cinema, and more. Eventually, there are no longer questions of whether or not something is considered art.[14] Nuraini Juliastuti writes that these alternative, local organizations resemble a sanggar, which is an Indonesian term for a collective space in which members share their learning experiences under the guidance of a mentor. The only difference between a sanggar and these spaces is that there is no mentor.[15]
Following along the no-mentor sanggar is artist-led contemporary organization, ruangrupa, which is an exemplar in showing how the Indonesian art scene is developing just as fast without the need for an international, white cube inspired art institution. When translated to English, ruangrupa quite literally means visual space, and that is exactly what it is. Started in 2000, the non-profit organization encourages the development of art within an urban and cultural context. This is pursued through exhibitions, festivals, art laboratories, workshops, research, as well as book, magazine, and journal publications. Within the two decades since its establishment, ruangrupa has evolved into a contemporary art collective which promotes cultural and institutive inclusivity.
Apart from this, ruangrupa has also shifted artistic practice from not only producing objects, but also research. Under the demise of Soeharto’s New Order and during the reformasi period (reform period), ruangrupa emerged as an environment where youth culture could thrive, as students and the youth were often denied freedom of expression during this time.[16] Today, ruangrupa has become an ecosystem providing public learning spaces that carry the values of equality, solidarity, sharing, friendship, and togetherness; by structuring itself to be a space where each person is able to share their own knowledge, and have others take from it. It is in this space that informal discussions take place spontaneously and new ideas emerge from the exchange. ruangrupa, also sometimes called Ruru, aspires to be more of a bottom-up environment, where there are no knowledge-transfer processes from up-down, but instead, prioritizes what they call as “knowledge transactions.”[17]
From the start, ruangrupa has been maintaining its free organizational structure, to focus on the importance of each artists’ creative individuality. ruangrupa believes that each individual artist is significant in the sense that with their differing backgrounds, all of them carry their own historical and cultural value, and each artist plays an important role. In regards to the abundance of ideas, one of ruangrupa’s artists, Ade Darmawan expresses that there is no urgency for ownership when it comes to ideas, because everyone participates in the construction of a project.
Located just on the outskirts of South Jakarta, ruangrupa’s open and often occupied space looks more like a casual hang out spot, rather than the regular tight-knit art institution, where studios, libraries, research spaces, and party venues clash under one roof.[18] Furthermore, working as a non-profit organization, most of the financial support comes from donor agencies, sponsorships, independent funding from business units, as well as voluntary funds from ruangrupa’s members. It does not help when new contemporary and familiar art institutions are constructed, as they trump over smaller organizations like Cemeti and ruangrupa by their big donors.
As an ecosystem which mainly concerns itself with the local, ruangrupa’s projects are mostly developed and inspired by the life in Jakarta itself, using the city not just as a living space, but also as a working space, as well as a place to spark inspiration. Darmawan writes that Jakarta itself is a “necessary condition for the organization to exist,” and that it represents the disorderliness that comes along with life. He also explains that “the relation between visual art systems and the city’s infrastructure is an important context of [their] works.”[19]
Since 2004, ruangrupa have been organizing a biennial forum called Jakarta 32° which aims to call upon the lack of local infrastructures in regards to art education. Taking place in 2012, Jakarta 32° focuses on Indonesian art students and their relationships with the city. Emphasizing on Jakarta’s rich visual culture, design, regulation, and fluctuating economic state, ruangrupa invites students and youth communities to examine alternative visions and ideas to better the city. Jakarta 32° is all about challenging the vertical link between the state and the society and approaching the city with a more horizontal strategy, where ultimately, the city itself becomes more important than the state.[20]
Moreover, in 2018, ruangrupa, along with two other local organizations — Serrum and Grafis Huru Hara — initiated and built GUDSKUL: Studi Kolektif dan Ekosistem Seni Rupa Kontemporer (Collective Study and Ecosystem of Contemporary Art), a non-profit and artist-led school, having dynamic curriculums which are not limited to classroom activities. Gudskul was designed to be a collective working and learning space, emphasizing on the importance of critical and experimental dialogue, through the process of sharing and experience-based learning. Gudskul aims to spread enthusiasm for individuals to become involved in contemporary and cultural arts in their respective communities. In essence, this artistic ecosystem becomes a place where young, local artists, curators, fine art writers, researchers, musicians, filmmakers, designers — both fashion and graphic, street artists, and other skillful individuals gather together (see Figure 3).[21] This diverse community allows for collaborative works, where individuals tackle political, social, cultural, economical, environmental, and educational issues together.[22]
In addition to this, ruangrupa also has an art journal, Karbon, which is published every three to four months, relating on themes that concern public issues in Indonesia. Karbon was started to compensate the absence of critical analyses of visual art and its relationship with socio-cultural contexts. To reach the whole of the country, publications of Karbon are sent out to cultural centers in different regions of Indonesia free of charge, as a way to build connections and a stronger sense of community with places outside of Jakarta.[23] Not only this, but through ruangrupa’s activities and workshops, they try to reach a wider audience that is not limited to the exclusive art scene of Indonesia, incorporating art into individuals’ daily lives, as opposed to having it as a separate entity, while creating an inclusive environment.
Before taking on the global art world, local and smaller art organizations are able to improve and build on the infrastructure of art at a local level.[24] Darmawan explains that “in Indonesia, there is no partnership among independent arts organisations nor state institutions based on mutual benefit, and this reflects the failure of the state-designed art infrastructure to deal with the rapid development of ideas on the local level.”[25] Hence, the need for a closer-to-home approach when it comes to art institutions. Before Indonesia takes on the global art world, they must first establish a strong local art infrastructure, separated from the state, making them more personal and inclusive. Darmawan believes that these small initiative spaces are like “contextual responses”, as they experiment and provide applicable responses to local needs, which then develops local survival strategies. In the process of building a formal art infrastructure in Indonesia, the organizations help improve the local system.[26]
As an organization which tries to steer clear from the Western canon, Cemeti and ruangrupa strives to contribute in building a long-term and strategic art infrastructure that differs from any Western model. Darmawan hopes that through ruangrupa’s works, an alternative system can be achieved. What he means by this is to develop an attitude which deconstructs and reconstructs daily practices to accord to local needs, especially because of the role played by national identity and corruption. He believes that this is significant to counter-balance the dysfunctional and disoriented attributes of the Indonesian consumer.[27]
Today, ruangrupa is curating the prestigious Documenta 15, expected in 2022. After participating in curating a vast number of biennials and large-scale exhibitions around the world in the past, ruangrupa is using lumbung for its main inspiration and focus. Lumbung is an Indonesian term for a place where rice produced by the crop farmers are stored for future shared resources. This sense of community that ruangrupa is bringing highlights the issues concerning colonialism, capitalism, and patriarchy.[28] To be curating for one of the biggest and most anticipated biennials in the world, ruangrupa is bringing the Indonesian art world justice for its multiplicity and humbling behaviour towards art production and research.
When thinking about what the future of the art institution and what it might look like, referring back to the familiar cannon — which is the Western art world — allows us to predict the foreseeable future for art, yet bounds us from thinking about a possible ‘other’ future,[29] as new debates on ‘new institutionalism’ and ‘post-institutional practices’ start to rise.[30] With this, it is easy to think that with the giant white-cube-like institutions, the Indonesian art scene has become international enough to live up to other metropolitan centres around the world. However, it is important to recognize that without the smaller organizations, there would simply be no space for museums like Museum MACAN to exist.
With the help of these art organizations in Indonesia, art becomes a playground where everyone is invited to play in. Looking at organizations like Cemeti and ruangrupa, their projects have achieved to promote the intricate relationships between art, culture, society, politics, history, and the everyday life. Through the infrastructure of artistic and cultural practices that have been built by the alternative organizations, the future of the Indonesian art scene is continuing to look brighter and unpredictably exciting, despite their struggles with financial support. With this, the ever-growing local, smaller institutions are on a mission; by being in their own institutional dispositions, they make a bigger claim in the art world that is already Western by virtue of playing by different rules.
NOTES:
[1] Brian O’Doherty, “Inside the White Cube: The Ideology of the Gallery Space” (San Francisco: The Lapis Press, 1986), 14.
[2] “About the Museum,” Museum MACAN, accessed April 9, 2021, https://www.museummacan.org/about.
[3] Image taken from “About the Museum,” Museum MACAN, accessed April 9, 2021, https://www.museummacan.org/about.
[4] Ana E Bilbao, “From the Global to the Local (and Back): Curatorial Strategies in Biennials and Small Visual Arts Organisations,” Third Text 33 no. 4 (Spring 2019): 190, DOI: 10.1080/09528822.2019.1603888.
[5] Mella Jaarsma; Nindityo Adipurnomo, “What Are We Waiting For?” AsiaArtPacific, no. 81 (Winter 2012): 47.
[6] Bilbao, “From the Global to the Local (and Back),” 182.
[7] Ibid., 183
[8] Ibid., 185
[9] Tony Bennett, “The Exhibitionary Complex,” New Formations no. 4 (Spring 1988): 73–102.
[10] “About Cemeti,” Cemeti, accessed April 9, 2021. https://www.cemeti.org/.
[11] Nuraini Juliastuti, “Ruangrupa: A Conversation on Horizontal Organisation,” Afterall: A Journal of Art, Context and Enquiry 30 (Summer 2012): 122.
[12] Image taken from “About Cemeti,” Cemeti, accessed April 9, 2021. https://www.cemeti.org/.
[13] Mella Jaarsma; Nindityo Adipurnomo, “25 Years of Cemeti Art House,” interview by Christina Schott, Nafas, Universes in Universe, February 2013. https://universes.art/en/nafas/articles/2013/cemeti-art-house.
[14] Juliastuti, “Ruangrupa: A Conversation on Horizontal Organisation,” 123.
[15] Ibid., 119.
[16] Ibid.
[17] Ibid., 125.
[18] “About,” ruangrupa, accessed April 9, 2021. https://ruangrupa.id/en/about/.
[19] Juliastuti, “Ruangrupa: A Conversation on Horizontal Organisation,” 123.
[20] Ibid., 124.
[21] Image taken from Angga Wijaya, “Gudskul Art Collective: Learning While Nongkrong, Nongkrong While Learning,” Asia Art Archive, October 8, 2020. https://aaa.org.hk/en/ideas/ideas/gudskul-art-collective-learning-while-nongkrong-nongkrong-while-learning.
[22] “Tentang,” Gudskul, accessed April 9, 2021. https://gudskul.art/tentang/.
[23] https://universes.art/en/nafas/articles/2005/ruangrupa
[24] Juliastuti, “Ruangrupa: A Conversation on Horizontal Organisation,” 120.
[25] Ibid., 121.
[26] Ibid.
[27] Ibid., 122.
[28] “Documenta-15,” ruangupa, accessed April 9, 2021. https://ruangrupa.id/documenta-15/.
[29] Thomas J Berghuis, “ruangrupa: What Could Be ‘Art to Come’,” Third Text 24 no. 4 (Summer 2011): 396. DOI: 10.1080/09528822.2011.587684.
[30] Ibid., 406.
