Sadomasochism in the public art

Our trip to Berlin last year was tinged by a “violent” debate on graffiti.[1] I, along with a friend from South Africa, Mogorosi, thought that we did not need to look down on graffiti. Meanwhile, a friend from Ethiopia viewed graffiti as “trash,” disfiguring the cityscape, and barbaric! Our debates became even more exciting, especially because this friend of ours also mentioned frescos, which one could find in many Orthodox churches in Ethiopia. Half-jokingly, and to add more “fuel” to “inflame” our friend, I said, “There isn’t any difference between frescos and graffiti!” Worse went his fury, and we enjoyed the fiery discussion even more.

Can frescos be considered as the most sacred and civilized of art forms simply because they are situated in religious sites? Should we then view the graffiti dominating Berlin walls as barbaric and uncivilized? Frescos on the old walls of the church convey messages to the public, and so do the graffiti on the street. Frescos, however, exist in the context of a class, while graffiti seem to reflect social struggles. There is a similarity between frescos and graffiti, in terms of how we grasp the messages they convey. The content and the intensity of each message are different; this, however, is due to some historical reasons. In many cases, frescos are understood merely from their “aesthetic” aspect, rather than in terms of their “entity”—and the same thing is true for graffiti. It is thus not easy merely to say that frescos and graffiti are different, if we are only using the argument that frescos are considered as a form of high art and not a form of popular art like graffiti.

A pluralistic argumentative base for stating the difference between frescos and graffiti would naturally open up a new horizon. It is thus not merely the location of the work that is important. Focusing merely on the location will lead us to say that a chunk of frescoed wall sold in a flea market is worthless, merely because it is not found in a “religious” site. Peter Dormer says that frescos in some European churches seem to be a form of public art, but they actually are not. Why aren’t they? Because, seen from a historical perspective, the frescos can be considered as artisan works. The value of a fresco arises from the repetition of a model, reflecting a tradition [Dormer, 1994: 26]. [2]

To support this argument, Dormer continues by viewing today’s creative process, which he calls as a form of freedom of an autonomous individual—unbounded by traditions, and even tends to be subversive in relation with the previous genres. Using an even more provocative language, Dormer points out that the success of a public art depends on the amount of the “orthodox” mentality owned by the artist during each of his or her creative moment. This can be reflected in how much the “orthodox” mentality has been manipulated. We can even see how daring the artist is in breaking the myths or in taking a distance from the status quo.

If we can use this argument as the base for saying that frescos are not a form public art, then we can also use it to reflect on graffiti that are merely seeking sensations. Although some graffiti have been created with the entity of a public art, its capacity as a form of public art must be questioned or even thoroughly doubted, if its entity of public art appears merely as a lips-service, or if it tends to be made orthodox. It means that I will not go out of my way to fight within a certain dichotomy, if it is only to support a form of repetition that sports the label of “populism”—which will happen if the creative journey stops as the artist feels that he or she has been established. If this is the case, then public art will function merely as an aesthetic rhetoric and tends to be selfish.

It was said that in Bandung there was an artist who created an artwork by displaying a boar’s head, giving it the title of New Order.[3] On the second day, people were becoming uneasy as the work started to stink. The police eventually closed down the display as the public, who could not stand the stink, were protesting. That is only a small example of how an artwork meant for public precisely incited protests, as the artist had not been smart enough in choosing the media. Furthermore, the style of railing against the New Order is no longer special these days. Even a child knows that the New Order was a “scoundrel.” It would be different had the work been created when Suharto were still in power—at that time, such work would probably unravel our inert minds. But when everyone in this country is simultaneously ranting against the past, what our colleague the artist did was merely repeating the rant! Without a clear paradigm! Far from being a public art genre!

Through such a discourse, I intend to put an end to the inertia, in order to find a more realistic genre, one that is tougher and more pliant! This is so that the democratic space we are now enjoying is filled not merely by empty rhetoric, but also has the capacity to be used to generate more advantages, especially in the search for a paradigm for our public art. In the future, therefore, the history of such search can be written with confidence, encouraging future generations of artists to keep searching for new paradigms, destroying the virus of “orthodoxy” in our creative process, drawing a clear line from the inertia of the status quo, and not merely repeating something immaturely!


A shaft of light from those we considered as having been fossilized
The spirit to create public art as a form of freedom of the autonomous individual actually found its root in the thoughts of the Italian poet Francesco Petrarch (1304 – 1374). In 1330, Petrarch stated that there were two important pillars in the revolution of art creation—i.e. the pillars of Individualism and Humanism. Here Individualism refers to the capability of an autonomous individual in employing his or her mature ratio and confidence, fully aware of the consequences of his or her actions. Humanism according to Petrarch is the feeling for humanity, based on the artist’s conscience instead of on a dogmatic framework.[4] It was hoped, therefore, that the two pillars would destroy the inertia in our thoughts. One often calls Petrarch’s thoughts as the Origin of the Renaissance.

It is clear, then, that what is meant by Individualism here does not have the goal of developing a laissez-faire attitude in creating an artwork. Here individualism contains forms of social responsibilities, closely related to the values of humanism. It is also important for us to view how the concept of Individualism arose in its historical context and take into account the conditions in the place where Petrarch had been born and raised. In a strong religious community in Italy at the time, everything and everyone lived within the overpowering presence of religious dogmas. Some progressive artists therefore felt that their creative “freedom” had been taken away. The works created were merely repetitions that formed the Byzantine traditions and killed any opportunity for creative developments. Personal creative freedom had been crushed by centuries-old dogmas of the Middle Ages.

The creative atmosphere, with the religious dogmas at its helm, created situations where values of humanism were looked down upon—and this was especially true if the dogma had been a part of the power hegemony, which was the case in the Roman Era when Petrarch lived. Therefore, artworks never had a space for creative expression. The progressive artists trying to break through the rigid order would be considered anomalous, and sometimes even had to pay for it with their life. The intentions of religion and power in the artworks of the Middle Ages were very strong, as betrayed by Pietro Lorenzetti’s The Birth of Virgin Mary (1342),[5] and in the works of Pietro’s brother, Ambrogio Lorenzetti, titled Authoritative Government (1388) in Palazzo Publico, Sienna, Italy.[6]

We could naturally understand Petrarch thoughts, especially if we relate them to our experience of living under the New Order regime, when artworks were overpowered by the political hegemony, and works that went out of the given line were considered as mutinous, wild, forbidden. This can be seen, for example, in the literary world, where today’s generation do not know that Indonesia had such great writers as Hersri Setiawan and Sitor Situmorang, alongside Goenawan Mohamad, Umar Kayam, Kang Sobary, and Y.B. Mangunwijaya. This betrays the absence of the spirit of Individualism and kills Humanism, as Francesco Petrarch had forewarned.

The disappearance of the two pillars of Individualism and Humanism under the New Order Regime is reflected in some of Goenawan Mohamad’s essays in the Tempo weekly magazine. Goenawan quotes Václav Havel in his essay “Embik”: “…It is thus true what Havel has said: ‘Under the orderly surface of life and lies, the sleeping surface of life lies unseen. There hides the open attitude that admits the truth. There lives the heart of those without power, without strength…” [7] The noble attitude of “the weak,” however, is crushed by the Power that Be, and Goenawan writes again in “History”: “…There are no more certainties. No more rights, even to buy the self. Tens of years ago, tens of years later…” [8] The accumulation of such attitudes reflected the social apathy in our society at the time, as Goenawan conveys in his essay “Journalist”: “… So, Father, I don’t want to be a journalist. It isn’t because I fear uncertainties, but because I don’t understand what our people actually want of words. I think you, Father, start to have regrets, too. Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent, thus Wittgenstein. That’s it for now!”

I deem it necessary to mention the above matters, in order to re-trace the meaning and context of the creative freedom. The freedom demanded in the past was a reaction against forms of oppression. The creative freedom and the freedom to express one’s opinion in the democratic space must certainly be more smartly conveyed, and not merely full of repetitive rhetoric. If this philosophy is not clearly understood, thoughts on the individual creative freedom would be distorted. Should this happen, there would be aberration in the process of creating the artwork for the public, and instead of opening up a new horizon, it would lead us toward banality. Such attitude would give rise to fundamentalism in various forms, or to chauvinism that tends to be counterproductive and lead to fascist attitudes, be it in the life of the nation or in the process of creating the artwork.[9]

The rise of our public art, therefore, should never justify further Mangunwijaya’s thesis regarding the taste of this generation, which he described as such: “… Today’s generation has gone so far backward in the ability to use reason creatively and in explorative ways; the education in this field has not been harmonically integrated and therefore given rise to narrowness and shallowness in this generation’s taste and their culture of reasoning, which in turn slow down the process of self-maturity…” Mangunwijaya’s ire, read in the context of our public art today, actually shows how the understanding on individualism (self assurance and self awareness) has shifted away from the one understood by Francesco Petrarch. It is as if individualism in the creative process can be recklessly interpreted. In fact, the understanding on individualism is closely linked with the sharpness of the reasoning capability and the search for new paradigms in each creative process—and this is all meant to spread among the public a civilisation that is full of confidence.


Paradigm—not merely in the holey pocket of one’s jeans
The creation of public art becomes highly intricate, as each public artwork will have a social impact. If a work appears immaturely, or if it appears as merely seeking sensations, then not only does it have no messages; neither does it build the social intelligence that will guide the public to find new paradigms. At the end of the day, we gain only nothingness—all efforts, time, and pains that the creator has exerted, would be of no avail.

It would be better, therefore, if one understands public art as a social process, and not merely as an interpretation of narrow individualism based on the authority of its creator. If every creation of an artwork persists on basing itself merely on the artist’s understanding, then aesthetic accomplishment has lost its meaning, as Jean Baudrillard once said, “Art has today totally penetrated reality… The aesthetization of the world is complete,” and as a result, “When everything becomes aesthetic, nothing is either beautiful or ugly any longer, and art itself disappears…”

The search for a new paradigm in the process of creating a work of public art must thus begin, precisely today when freedom abounds. It is not enough for us to begin this search merely armed with the spirit of “populism” and rhetoric of poverty, or by simply using non-conventional media such as piles of cardboards, cans, and used bottles. It is not enough merely to pound on the past either, or to reproduce insinuations as betrayed in Laskar Rakyat (The People’s Troops) sculpture in Yogyakarta.[10] If such practice keeps on taking place, then it is not a new paradigm that we are searching for, but a way of fighting using the means of the previous regime. While in the previous era we were chained by regulations on permits and by intimidations; today, then, the artist fights back using the same ways as those used by the past regime, and even tends to be fascist as well, using the name of the people and democracy. Such process will give rise to a generation that is exactly the same as the one they are fighting against. What does it all mean? All the same! Quo vadis our public art!

The search for the new paradigm can begin from: (1) Generating in all levels of society the awareness to “own” the public art. The process is important, as public art does not merely become the domain of the artist or of those in power.[11] During the time of the Old Order and the New Order, the sculptures made have mostly been associated with Power. Public art has mostly been used for political propaganda and to campaign for the “results” of the New Order developments. It could all happen as there was a political institution or agents of power who organised and supported the artist’s creative process. As the Reformation and the democratic processes take place, the artist loses the patron supporting his or her works, which had been the case during the New Order regime.

To fill this vacuum, the public, by virtue of small communities, must seize the position of the patron for the creation of new public artworks. There are many young artists today who need moral and material supports in order to express their youthful creativity in appropriate spaces. If we expect to have a civilisation of good-quality public art, the people must not simply sit down, wait, and become good audience or violent critics. The people must also give their moral contribution (through criticism and appreciations) and material contribution (in terms of their money and time).

It is not enough, however, if such contribution is done merely in the style of chipping in; the people, instead, must be actively involved, discuss things over a cup of coffee, perhaps, and giving criticism regarding the plans for the creation of a public artwork in their community. The people will therefore know and profoundly understand how an artist works; and at the same time, the artist will know what the people actually want. If this effort is successful, then not only will public appreciation increase; but a synergetic learning process between the artist and the people will also reach the point of civilisation in a harmonious dialogue. If this happens, then there will no longer be such comments as “The people don’t understand,” “What on earth is that… abstract art? It seems to be something in tatters,” “Is he an artist or a con artist?”; “Report these artists to the police—they merely create troubles…”.

If this stage has begun, the artist must take on down-to-earth ideas and ones that have noble missions, so that the creation of a public artwork is not merely aesthetical, but also ethical. The creation of a public artwork can therefore take place, having such missions as: (2) The healing process of a community/nation; (3) Enliven the ethnic multitude in order to support social integration; (4) Improve the existence of the indigenous art whose people tend to become a minority; (5) Help generating environmental awareness among the public.[12]

(2) The social healing paradigm no longer resides within the authority of formal institutions. The public domain can also play its role, as long as the “victims” are directly involved. In order for the public to be psychologically and socially affected, the creative process of public art must begin in a small community with specific problems, such as the community of drug-users (who are now so numerous in Indonesia), the community of victims of sexual violence, communities of people living with incurable diseases such as AIDS, community of senior citizens, or community of diffabled children.[13]

The healing process in such communities will be very difficult if we merely employ medical approaches. The mental breakdown, the loss of confidence, the feeling of being useless, or the social isolation that these “victims” experience can perhaps be addressed by the process of creating an artwork. The existence of an artist among them would trigger an even stronger motivation. Discussions taking place during the creative process would be a form of therapy to redevelop the self-confidence that has nearly been lost. The process of giving criticism in judging the artwork will open again the windows of communication. If the artwork is eventually displayed for public, and garnered appreciations from a bigger community, the victim’s perception on his or her social community would be improved. The community that these victims thought of as having marginalized them is actually hopeful and awaits their return. This process will certainly contribute in the healing stage.

The public artwork created through such a creative process can be seen as a catalyst that would improve our social civilisation. The creative process does not stop merely at the abstract aesthetic values, but instead also contribute to the progress of humanism. The artist again becomes a mediator between the social community and the “marginalized” community, without having to lose his or her professionalism and dedication in creating progress in the world of art.

The next search can be focused on (3) re-invigorating the cultural diversity in order to support social integration. Essentially, such thought arose from the problem of social segregation that took place in developed countries (in Europe and United States), where ethnic clashes often happened during the eighties. The idea, however, is not limited to addressing merely the ethnic groups, but also the social classes, gender, and age groups. There are numerous social conflicts that take place due to a social disintegration. It has been proven that such problem of social disintegration does not bring any advantage; in the long term, the community will be forced to bear the social cost that such problem creates.

The theme is closely related with our situation in Indonesia, where social integrity has become fragile. Disruptions in Sambas, the riots in 1998 in Jakarta, the ethnic conflicts in Maluku and Sampit, for example, are a blemish. The artist’s exploration in the realm of the public art can play a role in strengthening the values of humanism that are slowly disintegrating. The efforts to re-introduce the culture of the Chinese in Indonesia, through the celebration of the Chinese New Year, form a step forward where public art, in the form of the Dragon Dance, can play a role in creating social integration.[14] People, who so far have tended to consider the Chinese merely as “economic animals”, gradually come to realise that this ethnic group is not without its noble culture. History has even shown us that the acculturation between the culture of the Betawi of Jakarta and that of the Chinese has taken place since a very long time ago.

If one day we are to adopt such paradigm in the process of social integration after the tragedies of humanity such as those that took place in Ambon and Sampit, we must certainly begin from the grassroots. The artist community can start a creative process of a public art, basing it on the mission of social integration, in the areas that have been destroyed by social conflicts. The paradigm should depart from a political interest through formal institutions. The effort should always begin in a small community, and it should not be made a program. Besides, the pattern used in the exploration of a public art, should never become a template to be replicated in another community. Make the process of creating the public artwork highly “personal”, connecting the two communities in conflicts. The processes of creating, appreciating, and giving criticism can thus become a model of how a plurality can win, without any losing party, through noble dialogues and in a long process of art, and not by trampling on the values of humanities.

The gigantic wheels of modernism have crushed the existence of the native cultures almost thoroughly, for example the culture of the native American-Indians and that of the Aboriginal community in Australia. Indonesia is no exception. This country, who has often talked about the multitude and richness of the ethnic groups residing within her boundaries, has also trampled over the cultures of the native societies such as the culture of the Betawis of Jakarta. The ethnic groups residing in the remote corners in Papua, Sumatra, and Kalimantan have so far appeared as if they are decorative elements of the country. The art missions exposing the sculptural art of the Asmats of Papua have gone the world over, but—I’m sorry to say—the exposition has been merely decorative. The artists’ community, therefore, faces a challenge in the form of the public art phenomenon to (4) improve the existence of the art of indigenous communities, using the new paradigm.[15]

Introducing the art and culture of the indigenous community through public art should not repeat the style of doing it merely as a display and for fun, without any continuity. Meanwhile deforestation continuously takes place in areas where the isolated indigenous communities live.[16] We should therefore not merely capture the artworks and the culture of the isolated indigenous communities, and sell their exotic faces by virtue of tourism brochures. That way, we have lied to them, merely selling their art using the media of the public art, while there is only a sliver of real concerns regarding the empowerment and development of their potentials.

Here we all—including the artists—must find accurate approaches to respond to this problem. I, however, wish at least to remind us all about the importance of our brothers and sisters of the isolated indigenous communities. Perhaps through public art we can help avoiding the annihilation of their culture. Even more importantly, however, is the question of how we can change public perception, making people aware that the culture of these isolated indigenous communities also has high humanistic values.

Another issue to be addressed in the search for the paradigm of the public art is the question of how the community of artists (5) play a role in improving the environmental awareness of the public. This is not a new issue—a lot of public artworks have taken on this theme wholeheartedly. Here, however, I wish to convey an idea of how environmental awareness can perhaps be gained by invigorating the area around a dirty, filthy river, with the help of a public art festival that hopefully can also improve the people’s economic conditions.

If the campaign effort to take care of the Ciliwung River in Jakarta or of the rivers on Sumatra were to start from a festival held in the compounds along the river, then there would be a multitude of ways to contribute to the festivities using public artworks along the river. Say, for example, a “million giant puppets festival” along the river, straddling the compounds and prepared by the people living in the area. The people can then be asked to prepare traditional food to be sold along the river, so that visitors can drop by on boats and buy them. What impact would such festival bring? Naturally the first impact is economic: the people will be happy with such festivals, because they can get money from selling things and from other activities. The festival can be further developed to become a new tourism object. If the people start to be aware about the added value of such river tourism, gradually they will also be aware about the importance of taking care of the river area so that it becomes even cleaner, and one day it might become a permanent tourists’ destination.

The improvement of areas such as the river areas in the big cities is impossible to be achieved if it merely becomes government’s instruction and program. As long as the public do not see the real benefit of the river, it is impossible for them to take care of the river. There is thus no other way: If we want the environmental improvement efforts to succeed, the most strategic way is to develop people’s awareness. The artist’s role as a catalyst in this process is obvious. Should this idea be adopted, then the public artworks would not merely scream out protests against pollutions, but instead also create something in the long run.

Some of the reflections above are naturally not new. However, I try to ask you, the readers, to not merely use rhetoric. A public artwork that merely stops at the stage of protesting, points at the artist’s immaturity. Such practices will disappear and stop! The challenge for our community of artists now is to explore and find ideas that will always give rise to other creativities and ideas. To quote Goenawan Mohammad: Feet have no ideas, but ideas always have feet! Smart, isn’t it?


Architecture is the “King of Brutality” in our public art
It is indeed true that [our] architecture can be considered as a very public art [visually], and at the same time architecture, in many cases, is a form of highly irresponsible public art![17] It is brutal! Cynical! And Violent! Architecture is unlike the “boar’s head” public art installation in the town square of Bandung, which the police can close down whenever the public feel disturbed. The existence of an architectural object within a city, which might obliterate one’s right to land, habitat, and sunshine for as long as one lives—due to the development of a building, for example—is not easy to be “closed down” by anyone! Especially if the owner of the building is a rich person, or an official with the power to silence the public.[18]

The massive developments of a city, with such an architectural romp, unhesitatingly creates a series of displacement and new social crises. This problem reflects the development of business agglomeration, especially during the New Order era.[19] The social crisis has started since the “freeing up” of lands through the process of indemnity (with the loss retained). For the lands to be successfully “freed up”, there would often be intimidations, threats, and the labelling of the tenants as communists. After the building process is concluded in the area, a more serious situation arises, as social segregation takes place and social jealousy arise between the people living in the kampung and the “new” tenants, as evidenced by the existence of walled boundaries.[20] Indeed, in such cases, architecture cannot face “execution” alone! It is clear, however, that the architect is also morally responsible, as he or she also takes part in realising the desire of the capital, through the pencil lines that often put many things at stake: the soul, the future, and the cries of the commoners. But, again, most architects face the dilemma between idealism and pragmatism in their career and life!

Departing from such implication, it is therefore very difficult to position the spirit of the Indonesian architecture between the two “ancient” moral pillars as mentioned by Francesco Petrarch. The creative process of the architect is no longer based on individualism; instead, it becomes hyper-individualistic, as the architect appears to draw his or her lines as easy as creating autographs! The impacts created (traffic jam, pollution, waste of energy, social segregation) do not fall within the realm of Humanism; instead, it is De-humanising! Although there have indeed been ideal efforts going toward Humanism—such as the ones done by Mangunwijaya and Hasan Poerbo—most architects still struggle with the dualism or dilemma—or probably they do not care at all. What is even more disturbing is how our contemporary architecture is trapped within the shallow aesthetic hedonism![21]

I therefore believe that the effort to reintroduce the status of architecture as a form of public art will create serious cultural polemics. There is an argument saying that “both public art and architecture are created based on ‘orders’, and one is therefore not far from the other…” If we mull over this argument, with the help of the above description of the philosophy and paradigms of public art, the essential difference between the two becomes obvious. To help create a more “enticing” perspective, it is helpful to meditate on the thoughts of Henri Lefebvre, as he states: “... So what is architecture? It has been talked about a great deal and for long time, since architecture has existed and therefore architecture as a craft, in the division of labour. Could it be an art? This definition only still tempts those who love to draw facades, persist in turning out mouldings, skilfully distribute materials and pleasantly sculpt volume...”

We can understand the Aldo Rossi’s view that “the highest achievement in architecture is attained when it reaches the level of the art or pure expression, freed from ‘functions’. This can be attained, ideally, in monuments or graves...” [22] in the context of his critique on the Internationalism Movement in architecture that he considered as having gone too far. In order to avoid misunderstanding about the spirit of “humanism” of a writer as accomplished as Rossi, I wish to analyse further another statement by Rossi, which says that “places are stronger than people, the fixed scene stronger than the transitory succession of events...” This statement actually urges the architects to be willing to “learn” and open their eyes to other disciplines of knowledge such as anthropology, geography, history, and economics, and not merely trapped within the matters of aesthetics, which turn out to be highly abstract and subjective! [23]

It is therefore clear now: if architecture is inevitably a form of public art, then it is a “sadomasochistic” form of public art—it attains the height of architectural hedonistic passion by hurting someone, the public, or even itself! Therefore, the idea to position architecture again as a form of public art must be accompanied with public advocation, to help people become aware of their rights and realise that they can demand these rights, whenever they feel that architecture has seized these rights away. The public has the right to sue [the creator of] an architectural work, if they think of the work as brutal, creating environmental destruction, and stimulating social segregation. It is certainly not easy to attain such public awareness; besides, is the community of architects ready for all the consequences this might bring? There is a more important thing: can the supremacy of our law still preside over capitalism? This is what we must further explore!


A comma, not an endpoint
A process of reflections and polemics in the intellectual discourse on public art has just begun, and I hope that this short contemplation can fill the vacuum. It turns out that there are a myriad of simple things that we often forget, making us go away further from the reality and create works out-of-context. Perhaps we have so far been trapped in aesthetic discourses that tend to stay abstract, or the discourses we offer so far are inundated by quotes without knowing about the historical bases and context of the quoted statements. What is conveyed stays abstract, and readers or listeners nod without understanding anything. Behind all those expressions and discourses on the public art, there should reside a capability to create enlightenment and help the discovery of new humanist values.

In one of his letters, a close friend of mine, a young intellectual in the field of architecture, Irwan Adwinirwan Aldrin, touches upon the ancient saying of Thomas Aquinas (1225 – 1274), “Pulchrum Splendor est Veritatis”,[24] that had stuck in my head since eight years ago. Irwan Aldrin questions the matter of architecture/art in the context of a more progressive reality, “we should probably more clearly analyse the phenomenon of our architecture [or art], between the aesthetic and ethic...” Albeit conveyed within the same spirit, these words, I feel, are more realistic and “sexy” in the context of expressing one’s opinions and creativity, especially in terms of our public art. Seen in the framework of such paradigm, this discourse reaches merely a comma—or it probably should or would never arrive at the endpoint.




Barcelona, end of winter, March 1, 2001.
Translated by Rani Elsanti.
This article has been prepared for the discussion on public art in the Karbon journal, and is partly intended to “expand” the article written by Marco Kusumawijaya on “The Public Art: Dialogue Between Architecture and the Art” in the Karbon journal, No. 1-11/2000.


Andrea Peresthu is an urban architect and photographer, currently conducting research on urban geo-strategy/politics at the Universidad Politecnica de Cataluña, Barcelona, Iberian Peninsula.

Rani Elsanti, a freelance translator and editor, was born in Bandung, November 10, 1973. As a grumpy young girl, she had noisily proclaimed her loathing to big cities and especially to Jakarta—but that was before she found out that Jakarta had more publishing houses than anywhere else in Indonesia (perhaps with the exception of Yogyakarta). Her love of books, languages, and words (in that order) soon took precedence over any personal dislikes and brought her to the metropolis, where she can now easily be spotted grinning on a metromini bus, bemusedly observing the cacophonous city on her way to editorial meetings. She still thinks that Jakarta is a crazy city, but now realizes that the craziness is pandemic. After all, all happy towns are alike, but crazy cities are crazy in their own ways. Rani now translates for ruangrupa’s Karbon Journal.


Footnotes
[1] We did our Berlin trip in 2000 from March 25 to April 4, 2000, visiting the towns of Wolfsburg, Dessau, and Weimar.
[2] Peter Dormer [1994] The Culture of Craft: Status and Future [studies in design and material culture]
[3] Translator’s note: New Order is the name taken by the Suharto Regime, to contrast it with Sukarno Administration that it considered as the “Old Order”. The New Order held power since 1966, after a chaotic period of social-political unrest and skyrocketing inflation culminated in a bloody coup allegedly done by the 30 September Movement. The coup failed and the Indonesian military soon took over, with Suharto at their helm.
[4] H.W. Janson and Anthony F. Janson [1987] The New Age, p.168-169, Times Mirror Book. Read also: Petrarch Letters, translated by James Harvey Robinson and Henry Winchester Rolf, (New York: G. Putnam's Sons, 1909), pp. 59-65, 207-209, 213, 239-251.
[5] Pietro Lorenzetti (1280 – 1348) was an Italian painter under the Byzantine school. The work mentioned above is only one of many Pietro’s works, on display every where—from Sienna in Italy to the National Gallery in the Washington D.C. and in London. The Byzantine School (5th century – 1453) grew under the Byzantine Empire in Constantinople (today’s Istanbul, Turkey), and ended with the fall of Constantinople to Turkish hands. The school then grew to Russia and to some other places where the Orthodox Churches continues to exist. Painters of the Byzantine School outside Italy only existed in Greece with the rise of Theopanes (1330 – 1410) and Andreas Ritzos (15th century), and in Russia it was marked especially by the Russian Andrei Rublev (1370 – 1430), and Dionisii (1440 – 1510).
[6] Ambrogio and Pietro Lorenzetti were brothers born in Sienna, Italy. They received their education at the Siennese School of Art, under Duccio di Buoninsegna and Simone Martini. Both of them were known as the “leaders” of the Byzantine School. Pietro grew to show more traditional and conservative works and tried to show some harmony in his works. Meanwhile, Ambrogio was more realistic. Their oeuvres were therefore very much different from each other. Pietro tended more to the religious side, while Ambrogio was closer to those in power.
[7] Goenawan Mohamad. Catatan Pinggir. Jakarta: Pustaka Utama Graffiti, 1995. In the essay titled “Embik”, previously published in Tempo magazine on April 20, 1991.
[8] Goenawan Mohamad. Catatan Pinggir. Jakarta: Pustaka Utama Graffiti, 1995. In the essay titled “History”, previously published in Tempo magazine on July 6, 1991.
[9] YB Mangunwijaya. Pasca-Indonesia, Pasca-Einstein. Jakarta: Penerbit Kanisius, 1999. P. 17.
[10] The gigantic sculpture of Laskar Rakyat is the work of the sculptor Dunadi, created for the 11th Yogyakarta Art Festival in June 1999, under the theme of The Malioboro Tunnel. The sculpture was meant to make cynical allusions to the sculptures of the military that fill the town—the sculptor wishes to remind people that it was not only the military who had contributed to the town, but also the people. The sculpture, therefore, was meant to convey respect to the efforts of the people (Kompas daily, June 21, 1999).
[11] Arlene Raven (1993, page 17) writes in Art In the Public Interest that “Public Art isn’t a hero on a horse anymore, arguing that art in the public interest, extends the possibilities of public art to include a critique of the relations of art to the public domain...” See also the books written by Mary Jane Jacob, Culture In Action (1993) and by Joseph Beuys, Social Sculpture (1993).
[12] See Malcolm Miles (1997). Art, Space, and the City: Public Art and Urban Future. London: Routledge, 1997. Page 164 – 187.
[13] A group called The Art Studio in Sunderland, England, has done such activities. The cooperation is done between the Health Commission in the Local Government and the Artists’ Group. The proponents of the Art Studio tried to create an environment that enabled everyone to express their feelings and opinions through artworks (The Art Studio, 1996). This concept is then adopted in many European countries through a cultural exchange among Spain, Poland, and Belgium, and an international symposium was even held (NHSE, 1994, p. 9)
[14] From an article in the Kompas daily, February 2, 2000: Ridwan Saidi, a prominent figure in the Betawi ethnic group of Jakarta, said that he was glad because the Chinese community was again given the freedom to celebrate their new year. Saidi then reminisced, tracing again the memories of his childhood, and tells of how the Chinese New Year had been merrily celebrated in Jakarta. “The Chinese often gave moon cakes to the Betawis,” he said. “Usually, the Betawis also contributed to the Cap Go Meh celebration [the celebration taking place 15 days after the New Year—writer’s note]. We usually played tanjidor or gambang kromong music to entertain the Chinese. During the New Year’s celebration, the Chinese would do the Dragon Dance,” continued the Betawi man who was a member of the Indonesian Parliament. [President Abdurrachman Wahid issued a Presidential Decree No. 6/2000, dated on January 17, 2000, correcting thus the Presidential Instruction No. 14/1967 on Religion, Belief, and Chinese Traditions. With this new decree, the Chinese are again allowed to celebrate their new year.]
[15] Jane M. Jacobs. 1985. Edge of the Empire, page 120.
[16] The Warsi NGO (Information and Conservation Booth) in Jambi has asked that the Minister of Forestry reject the request for converting the areas of Bukit Duabelas forests in the Sorolangun Bangko regency, Jambi, from being a Limited Production Forest into an Industrial Forest. Warsi claims that the conversion threatens the livelihood of around 1,100 of Kubu people (who call themselves as “People of the Forest”), who live in the forest. The biodiversity of the area is also threatened. [“Temenggung Tarib Digusur Rajo Godong”, Kompas daily, February 3, 2000.]
[17] Marco Kusumawijaya: “... Essentially, architecture is inevitably a highly public art, indeed: starting from a single building to a housing complex, and the spaces in between, up to the whole of the city itself. This must again be stated, not to satisfy the ‘ego’ of the architects, but to make us realise that we, in our daily lives, are already saturated with the material culture that can POTENTIALLY give a sense of fulfilment, spiritually and physically, through aesthetics and artistic. ... Architecture as the most public of artwork is not without its problems. And it is therefore more pressing for us to consider its status again as a form of public art.” [“Public Art: Dialogue Between Architecture and Art”. Karbon journal No. 1-11/2000. Jakarta: ruangrupa, 2000. Page 31.]
[18] Marco Kusumawijaya: “... Because architecture invariably contains contradictions that makes it difficult to have a pure communication regarding the essence of its art—i.e. the ‘formed space’. Therefore, it is also difficult for minimalist architecture to reach a level of purity as that attained by the art, as it turns out that the construction process necessitates enormous capitalistic involvement...” [“Public Art: Dialogue Between Architecture and Art”. Karbon journal No. 1-11/2000. Jakarta: ruangrupa, 2000. Page 30-31.]
[19] “...The intention to replace urban kampungs was followed by the program of urban redevelopment. During the 1990s there were many redevelopment projects, which actually consisted of relocation and resettlements of urban kampongs from strategic location of CBD. This urban policy has engendered a tremendous social crisis. Many invisible hands did infrastructure destructions, such as: cutting the electricity accessibility, disturbing public water networks, and allowing the destruction of a neighbourhood street...” [Andrea Peresthu. “Urban Kampung Empowerment”, a paper read in the UNESCO international workshop: "Indonesian Town Revisited", held by the University of Leiden, Faculty of Social Sciences, December 6 – 7, 2000. Leiden, The Netherlands].
[20] Jérome Bindé: “...the postmodern moment where everyone is returned to himself. To his little games, to the scenery of his daily life, to his narcissist anxiety of ‘being liberated’ ...the individual of societies in crisis, disoriented by sudden devaluation of unanimous credos (capitalist ‘abundance’ or socialist ‘emancipation’) become thus refugees in a rediscovered pium, in this padlocked garden where one would like to forget the snubs/insult of real history...”[Jérome Bindé. 1982. “Le pavillion des aliénés ou le fantome du privé”. In Paysage pavillonnaire, edited by IFA. Paris: Institut Francais de l’Architecture, page 34 – 38]
[21] Andrea Peresthu. 2000. “Harga Sebuah Retorika”. Dimensi, Architectural Journal of Petra Christian University, Vol. 28 No. 2, December 2000. Page 63 – 70.
[22] As quoted by Marco Kusumawijaya “Public Art: Dialogue Between Architecture and Art”. Karbon journal No. 1-11/2000. Jakarta: ruangrupa, 2000. Page 31.
[23] Read further: Nan Elin. 1996. Postmodern Urbanism. New York: Princeton Architectural Press. Page 22 – 55. Please think over the question posed by Henri Lefebvre: “...Could architecture be a technique? If so, the engineer supplants the architect, whether he specializes in concrete or road works. Could it be a science? In which case it would be necessary to construct a methodology, an epistemology or a doctrinal corpus. Now the fruitlessness of this hypothesis is obvious. Supposing it could be established, this corpus would be self-sufficient and without any other effectiveness than its transmission. Architecture cannot be conceived other than as a social practice among others...”
[24] “Truth Shines from Beauty”. Thomas Aquinas is known as a philosopher-cum-theologian from the Middle Ages in Europe, who succeeded in amalgamating the teaching of St Augustine with the philosophy of Aristotle’s. Long before Aquinas, the first person to show the importance of Aristotle’s thoughts was the Great Albert (1193 – 1280), who showed his theories by way of Ibn Rushd’s interpretation on Aristotle’s original text.