Eyes of the People 变革时代下的创作

To Eko Nugroho, one of the most acclaimed artists of Indonesia’s reformasi era, art is an inseparable product of an artist’s environment. Having lived through a major financial crisis, mass protests, the fall of a regime, and the democratization of Indonesia, his artistic output has been largely shaped by these experiences. “If the artist lives amidst a very political situation, there are high chances he or she will create works that are very political,” he says. Nugroho’s creativity has flourished as his country transformed.

Spanning paintings, murals, sculptures, installations, embroidery art, and animation, his multidisciplinary work weaves together a plethora of references and traditional Indonesian crafts. His colorful compositions directly reflect his environment, but these reimagined realities are dreamlike, illogical, and even bizarre.

A great example is a large piece made of embroidery and painting titled Family Dinner After Democracy. It features references to both Suharto’s regime, in the form of a soldier watching through binoculars, and to the new democratic system in Indonesia, with a man playing on an arcade machine. Even if the latter cannot see because his eyesight is blocked, the message “dead-end democracy” shows up on his screen. The remainder of the piece is dominated by an utterly chaotic scene overtaken by outlandish anthropomorphic beings.

Another example is Carnival Trap #2. It includes a large protest banner made with the word “Demokrasi.” The banner is made of bamboo scaffolds and supported by military boots on both sides. Behind it, there’s a post with a lightbox saying “colossal trap.” And in front of everything, there’s a four-legged humanoid covered in natural patterns. The juxtaposition of the military with democracy is recurrent in Nugroho’s work, and so is a sense of disillusionment with both.

As for the surreal characters with whom he populates his universe, they seem to wander about in dazed confusion. Sometimes they look like mutants; sometimes, they take a more human form. But one thing most of them have in common: they’re almost entirely covered in patchworks of different textures and patterns. Nugroho tends to leave their eyes exposed, allowing them to look back at viewers with piercing gazes. “The eyes in my work represent an intelligent generation, one with vast knowledge, who can see many things,” he explains. “But one that also forgets to listen, to speak kindly, to speak efficiently.”

Born in 1977 in Yogyakarta, Nugroho grew up under the military rule of President Suharto. It was a period of modernization and growth in which Indonesia saw rapid industrialization and unprecedented wealth. These were also dictatorial times, with little to no room for socio-political commentary, especially in the art world.

But, when he entered the Indonesian Institute of the Arts to study for a bachelor’s degree in painting, Indonesia was in turmoil. It was 1997, and Suharto’s promise of prosperity had hit a wall with the Asian financial crisis. Poverty, unemployment, and inflation severely battered the country, and a wave of protests erupted, particularly amidst student groups. It all led to the fall of the regime the following year.

With the political liberalization that ensued in the Reformasi era, artists began addressing topical issues that they weren’t free to broach before. Many artists at the time also began being influenced by lowbrow pop culture, adopted new media formats, and often added a defiant, humorous tone to their works.

Nugroho mentions many influences for himself, from the music of legendary local pop band Koes Plus to the art of Andy Warhol and Keith Haring. “This era of pop art provided a sense of energy to my works,” he says. “That’s why I began painting in bright colors, something I still do today.” He realized  the significance of color early on, seeing it as a device capable of setting the mood and evoking emotions in his audience. “Colors are the agents for feelings and atmosphere. More literally: red can stand for anger, blue for solitude, serenity, or coldness, and yellow can represent joy.”

The ways he wields patterns are similarly intended to conjure certain emotions or imagery. Often, they’re also nods to Mother Nature or traditional Indonesian crafts—whether it be textures inspired by local flora and fauna or motifs found in batik. “I’m interested in how dense, ordered visuals can fill the surfaces of my work,” he says. “If they don’t appear in the main objects, they’re likely to appear in the background.”

Other forms of Indonesian art can also be seen in Nugroho’s work. Local costumes and masks inspire the attires worn by his characters, and the wayang, a Javanese shadow puppetry practice, has also appeared in his oeuvre. Nugroho likes to think of these traditions as a permeating tool that brings together the country’s culturally diverse population. He also appreciates that many of these traditions are still around and part of daily life, despite being ancient.

A non-Indonesian art form that became a vital part of Nugroho’s practice is street art, which he began dabbling in during his university years. “What interested me the most [about street art] was the interaction with people passing in front of the wall I was painting,” he says. “These interactions may happen as questions, flattery, anger, and even support since they would give me things like food and drinks. I became interested in how art can connect many distinct elements when it is open to the public.”

Ever since he began making public art, Nugroho was captivated by the effects of community engagement. He expanded the mediums he’d work in and often sought to have an open dialogue with his audience and collaborators. Even when presented in gallery spaces, his work still carries traces of street-art influence. Oftentimes, his gallery showings will involve murals painted directly on the walls. Although, ironically, his gallery murals have a shorter lifespan than his street murals, being that they’re erased as soon as the show ends. This ephemerality amuses him. “I like to work amidst this tension. Between life and death, presence and absence, existence and non-existence,” he says.

To Nugroho, selecting the medium that he’ll create with is the last step in his decision-making process. What starts with a concept in his mind is first realized as a sketch, and only after does the medium he’ll work in come to him. It’s a process that’s rooted in instinct. “The only requirement is that the medium is something close to me, near my environment,” he adds. “I like media that’s easy to find and manipulate.”

For a recent series of embroidery paintings, Nugroho invited a community of embroiderers to complete the artworks by adding a layer of woven yarn on top of his painted canvases. In the hands of the embroiderers, his works transformed entirely, being imbued with unique textures and a unique tactility.

He also works with waste collectors near his studio to create sculptures with found objects, mainly plastic. “I’m returning waste to the artistic spaces—where it’s also produced—as art pieces,” he says. “Besides the beauty of the artwork itself, there’s also the process and the meaning behind the medium.” Nugroho’s sculptures bring to life his manifestations of chaos. They’re often human-like but wear the strangest attires made of many elements, all charged with symbolism, and carry protest signs with slogans such as “tolerance” and “stop legalize stupidity,” for instance. Because they’re made in human size, it feels as if they’ve crossed over into our dimension—or perhaps they never left it.

Nugroho hopes his upcycling works can serve as a message about sustainability to the community at large. Much of his art revolves around affecting his community in positive ways. For example, the embroiderers he worked with are artisans who’ve fallen on hard times in recent years. But with Nugroho’s assistance, they’re finding additional means of income, and not only that, their handmade crafts are finding new life in a contemporary format. Nugroho also opened DGTMB, a shop to sell prints and designs by local creatives in Yogyakarta, and founded the Eko Nugroho Art Class, a personal development project that teaches students to solve problems, overcome limitations, and find solutions in the most varied areas of life thinking creativity through art.

“Communication is my main strength and interest. I like to produce art as a team,” Nugroho says. He particularly enjoys working with people who do not have a background in art. Still, these collaborators are often experts in their fields, which creates a leveled relationship based on mutual learning.

Yogyakarta, or Jogja, as locals affectionately call it, is arguably the cultural center of Indonesia. The city is still the capital of a special region with a ruling sultanate, and it’s the cradle for many of the traditions Nugroho plants in his art. He considers himself lucky to live there and soak in the uniquely creative environment the city offers. “Jogja is an unlimited art laboratory,” he says. “Besides hosting various art platforms, communities, and alternative spaces, Jogja is also a place for discussions and debate. This is what keeps me here.” He also points out that people in Yogyakarta are more receptive to the disruptive nature of art than any other place in the country.

In such an environment, Nugroho can observe the interplay of tradition and modernity as the whole country morphs in front of his eyes. His observations are directly fed into his art. “It’s evident that the artist is inspired, touched, or regulated by the surrounding situations,” he says. “I believe that art serves as an archive of history. Artworks can contain records about a country’s trajectory.”

With each new artwork, Nugroho is filing an entry into his history book. Current issues are ardently recorded, such as the challenges Indonesia has been facing since it became a democracy and, of course, the global pandemic. One of his most recent exhibitions, Destroyed in Peace, recently shown at the Jogja National Museum, featured paintings of characters in face masks and hazmat suits and a sculpture formed by several skulls to symbolize the death toll of Covid-19. The absurdity in his world is not too different from the absurdity in our world. In both, we find war, conflict, division, and death. But, in his world, as in ours, there’s hope. It lies in the watchful eyes of the people.

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Website: ekonugroho.or.id
Instagram: @ekonugroho_studio

Contributors: Tomas Pinheiro, Lucas Tinoco
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li