Source: http://www.feminista.com/v3n1/bianpoen.html
This article was originally published in the April 25, 1999 edition of
THE INDONESIAN OBSERVER.

Arahmaiani’s Homecoming

by Carla Bianpoen

At a time when the country seems to be in a state of disjuncture from a social, political and historical point of view, Arahmaiani's come-back in the art scene may be viewed as a historic moment. While her art has been hailed abroad and welcomed in many art exhibitions in various countries, her current solo exhibition at the Galeri Milenium in Jakarta is her first major recognition in Indonesia.

As one may recall, her first artistic expressions in the street way back in the early 1980s caused her suspension from the university where she was pursuing art education. As a warning to the escalating incidence of street accidents in her hometown, she had wrapped the electric poles along the Dago Street in Bandung with bandage smeared with 'blood'. Then she stoped the traffic and distributed a flyer with data on the number and sort of accidents in that Dago Street. She was found too radical and was since then excluded from taking part in any art exhibition.

In the years that followed, she became a nomad, traveling from one country to the other: Holland, Australia, Thailand and even to Kazakstan. Traveling, studying, reading and interacting with a variety of people of various disciplines, she became increasingly interested in the role of power relations.

The knowledge she acquired confirmed her own belief in the theory of equilibrium, and as she 'matured further', her works became even more poignent. Economic, industrial and gender issues shine through her works that can take the form of paintings and drawings, but are also evident in her installation art, her poetry, and her dance- theater and musical performances. While Yani started out to be a painter, the widening of her personal scopes make the canvas, or the piece of paper too small a medium for her to express what she needs to bring out. Touching the deeper senses of human beings, her performances and her song are known to have made a profound impression on her audiences.

The twenty charcoal drawings and one installation at the Galeri Milenium which opened on April 21 express her grave concern for the condition of women in this country. Yani says the works greatly draw on May rapes last year. Interestingly, however, is how the women are also a metaphor for the country of her birth, which she calls 'motherland' and which she loves in spite of her wandering around the world.

In her view, the imbalance in power relations manifested in he unequal struggles in the country is also emanent in the rapes of powerless women.

Yani's female figures in the current exhibition at the Galeri Milenium in Jakarta, are nude, while the male figures, holding such attributes as guns and standing in a threatening position, are clearly meant to be depicted as the powerful. Yani says her figures are stripped from all of the usual attributes to express beauty or even give the slightest indication of a cover up. She says that was intentional, so that what shows is what is. They do not provoke sensuous emotions. There is no reverie, no ecstasy whatsoever, nor any flight of imagination. What remains is a deep silence, which the artist has meant for her audience to reflect on the present state of affairs.

Drawn in the fashion of the naive, the works contain recurrent elements that captive the attention, leading the way to reflect on the reasons. The drawing entitled 'Kukorbankan segalanya untukmu' (I sacrificed everything for you), one or more bodies are in a prone position, flat on the ground, a burning house, and dark threatening in the sky; another drawing carries the title 'Dipenisku Hanya Ada Kamu' (In my penis there is only you) depicting a female figure lying on the ground, and a horned, masked figure holding his penis which is depicted as a gun. There is also a nude sitting on the couch on the point of being strangled by a masked man behind the couch holding a knife in his right hand, and at the back is a little house marked by a little door and a smoke coming out of the top. The title is 'Aku Cinta Padamu' (I Love You). Always there is a little house which may refer to the most sacred in a woman's body, and at the same time it may relate to the country, and smoke as a signal of danger.

In fact, woman as a methaphor also represents the nation, sharing an issue that is seen as rooted in an overbearing authority of a patriarchal power. In 'Come on Baby, Light my Fire', Yani depicts a female figure with her body still in tact, but her face vanishing in the smoke that rises up to the black clouds in the sky. 'This represents the vanishing face of women, as well as the nation's face that is smeared with overwhelming inequities, injustices', says the artist.

Taking sides with the weak and the powerless, Yani's works are spurred by the imbalanced relationship of what is called yin and yang, between the feminine and the masculine, the weak and the strong. Through her works, Yani is also sounding the alarm, foreboding disaster if the balance between the yin and yang forces fail to be restored.

Her installation is a signal. Thousands of match-sticks are arranged to form the large islands of the Indonesian archipelago, the seas inbetween taking the shape of a woman. Hanging from the ceiling is a simple, white dress. It is symbolic of the situation in which the least of things can ignite a fire spreading over the archipelago to burn all and everything to ashes. The installation is entitled 'Balada Korek Api' (Ballad of the Matches) and has an accompanying poem made by Yani as well.

Yani comes from a Moslem-religious background. Her father is an ulama, and reciting koranic verses was included in her everyday routine. Yani used to listen with admiration to the stories about the Nabi (the Prophet) and he became the idol of her young life. However, little as she was at that time, a girl of only 5 or 6 years old, she managed to shock the whole family when she told them she wanted to be a nabi. In turn, she got the shock of her life when she was told she was a girl and could never be a nabi. 'Young as I was, the statement worked as a verdict I could not grasp', she says, but it has stirred a revolt in her inherent sense of justice and righteousness.

Ever since, she has rebelled against convention and authority. 'Aku Ingin Jadi Nabi' (I Wish to be a Prophet) depicts a young woman, a gun at both sides of her head and a tank in front of her, a tear falling from each eye, and the dark cloud over her head. While this may be a selfportrait, it is at the same time the artist's view of the haunting atmosphere women must face.

Perhaps Yani is a nabi after all, though in a sense that emphasises not the physical, but the qualitative significance.

The works were on display at Galeri Milenium in April & May 1999.
Komplek Pertokoan GOLDEN PLAZA Blok B-23, Jl. RS Fatmawati 15, South Jakarta. Ph. 750- 7828

Carla Bianpoen is a freelance writer/journalist and art critic.

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