One of the valuable historical knowledge I acquired from working with Biennale
Jogja is about how the history of art education connecting Indonesia and India began.
In 1930s, a prominent poet cum artist, Rabindranath Tagore, visited Indonesia with
several other people, some of which were the tutors from Shantiniketan, an art school
in India. During the visit, they once met Sukarno in Bandung. Afterwards, they also
visited Borobudur and learned about batik. They continued the journey to Bali in
order to observe Indonesian traditional art—particularly carving, weaving, etc. Once
they came back to India, they integrated the lessons about Indonesian art into their
curriculum in Shantiniketan. Lately, following the independence of Indonesia,
Sukarno delegated several artists to study at Shantiniketan, among others were the
sculptor Edhi Soenarso and the painter Affandi. The connectivity between inter-
individual diplomacy, as well as the encounter of intellectual thoughts and cultural
movements draw my attention. I see them as a model of relationship among
individuals and institutions that is still quite relevant for our today’s circumstances.
At the beginning of Biennale Jogja Equator, the founders—comprising artists and art
practitioners across communities and generation—dreamed about creating a
manifesto that will speak out the voice of Indonesia to the global scene through art
and cultural works. The manifesto represents our effort to examine the circumstances
of the equator as a way to propose an alternative to what we call as art
internationalism or global art. Through the concept of equator, art practitioners (in
Indonesia) are actually reading the history of our engagement and position in this
quite intense process of art globalization. All of us consider the process as an
adventure; together, we open the map, pinpoint the destination, make a list of
questions, and get ourselves ready if we will never be able to get any answer to the
question. The most important thing we value is how this journey presents us with
experiences and stimulates the development of a geopolitical notion different from
what has been taken for granted in the contemporary art scene in particular, and from
our view of the global world in general.
Agency of Curator and Artist
Some literature and researches on the role of Indonesia in the global (visual) art
scene—particularly examining what happened post-1989 when the international art
map greatly shifted—mention the importance of international agents (foreign cultural
institutions, international museums, and multi-national institutions) as the initiators of
collaborative works at the international level. The most prominent role of the state
(read: the New Order) appeared in Kesenian Indonesia di Amerika Serikat
(KIAS/Indonesian Art in the United States) event which was initiated by the Ministry
of Foreign Affairs under the leadership of Mochtar Kusumaatmadja. Such a big
project triggered many debates on what kind of faces of Indonesia to show and which
artists reserve the rights to “represent” Indonesia. Meanwhile, in early 1990s, curators
from Australia, Japan, and some European and American countries visited Indonesia
to look for artists from a seemingly “newfound” region, exploring terra incognita. It
might have felt like they discovered spices back then. The new emerging international
events and spaces organized to build geopolitical power, such as the Asia Pacific
Triennial and Fukuoka Asian Art Museum, present opportunities for Indonesian
artists to participate and become part of the international art communities.
Thus, for almost two decades, internationalization is regarded as a process of moving
outward. Becoming international seems to only mean us being in Paris, London,
Venice, New York, or Korea and Hong Kong (the latter two are establishing their
position). We barely noticed that becoming international, or setting our position in the
global map, may also mean making Indonesia the locus to where we can invite
international art practitioners to come. The most essential thing is not bringing in the
artworks, but initiating the works towards a new world order. A big event such as the
Asian-African Conference (Bandung Conference, 1955) is an influential muse for us
working in Biennale Jogja Equator. It demonstrated how the initiatives like this are
significant to mark our ideological position as a post-colonial nation. Bandung
Conference carried a great vision which is yet to complete. Therefore, to continue this
visionary fight is a very strategic option to take for Indonesia. That is why,
international art events, such as Biennale, should be promoted as they manifest our
initiatives for modes of exchange between nations with a strong ideological base,
instead of merely being part of the trend of internationalism. The effort is built upon
ideas coming from art practitioners. It does not take the format of a large-scale
biennale fully initiated by the government. It says that through the visionary idea of
solidarity among equatorial countries, the agency shifted from the government’s hand
to the artist/curator’s. This shift to artists/curators is the most significant change,
showing the transition of power from the government to the citizens.
Working together with countries in specific regions such as the equatorial leads us to
track back the relationship among nations and cultures engaged in the Bandung
Conference back then, including India, Egypt, Africa, and even expanding to South
America and the Pacific. What grabs our attention is the fact that the relationship
among these nations was once paused during the Cold War. In Indonesian context, it
was also mainly affected by the New Order’s shift of internationalism orientation to
the United States as the center of capitalism. The political and economic relationships
once built through the Bandung Conference seemed disconnected. It also applied in
the context of art and culture.
Most of the artists taking part in Biennale Jogja Equator visited Indonesia for the first
time while participating in the event. In person, this hit me hard because I realized
that our political relationship in 1980s, in contrast, set us apart from the closer
narratives and histories. It illusively encouraged us to reach the broader scope, but
made us pay less attention to our nearest circumstances. The encounter represented by
Tagore and Sukarno’s meeting, that later took Soenarso and Affandi to Shantiniketan,
did not continue. In Biennale Jogja Equator #1: Shadow Lines presented the narratives
about India to Yogyakarta, the remnants of the history started to unfold and search for
the way to be reconnected. Based on our observation to religiosity, faith, and
spirituality, Suman Gopinath and I, as the curators of the exhibition, noticed that the
works of both Indonesian and Indian artists showed the abundant similarity of our
society’s way of life. Syncretism and rites presented by Sakshi Gupta and Riyas
Komu were also reflected on Jompet Kuswidananto and Setu Legi’s artworks.
Religion-based identity politics—including the tension between positioning faith as a
personal domain or part of social bond—could be seen in the works of Akiq A.W.,
Arya Panjalu/Sara Nuytemans, Amar Kanwar, and Sheela Gowda. The journey of
Indian artists N.S. Harsha, Valsan Koorma Kolleri, Atul Dodiya, and Riyas Komu
visiting Indonesia opened up the possibility to further explore the relationship
between the countries. Not only they attempted to “gaze at each other” again, the
artists also presented opportunities for the exhibition visitors to look back at their
collective memories about India which had been long shaped by the stereotypical
Bollywood movies. The exhibited artworks offered us a chance to re-discuss the
symbols, social context, history, and influences of contemporary cultures to
Indonesian and Indian societies who still maintain close connection to their local
cultures.
In the second edition, Not a Dead End, the curator Agung Hujatnika and Sarah Rifky
(Egypt) explored the Arab region, in a very relevant context following the Arab
Spring. Unlike the first edition where the Indonesian artists only worked in
Yogyakarta, Biennale Jogja began with sending off the Indonesian artists to live and
work in the partner country or region for a certain period of time (going for
residency). It was the experiences of doing residency among the tense and uncertain
political period that characterized Biennale Jogja Equator 2013. Duto Hardono,
Venzha Christiawan, Prilla Tania, and Tintin Wulia explored the Arab region, while
some artists from Egypt and Arab went for residency in Yogyakarta.
In the third edition, Hacking Conflict, we collaborated with Nigeria. With the work of
duo curator, Wok the Rock and Jude Anogwih, we elaborated how tension and
conflict might present us with chances for negotiation and reconciliation. Six Nigerian
artists lived in Yogyakarta for a month, collaborating with local communities.
Meanwhile, two Indonesian artists started to work on their projects in Lagos. Working
with Africa gave us a completely different experience. It was full of surprise but at the
same time granted us many productive dialogues.
During organizing the residency and any chances of encounter, we noticed how the
artists were intensively engaged in egalitarian and non-hierarchical dialogues, while
productively collaborating with the local communities and institutions. These
encounters were mainly facilitated by college students and young artists who
volunteered to join Biennale Jogja. Through the help and perspective of the
volunteers, the participating artists mingled with Yogyakarta’s daily life and grasped
the real practices of the people. Thus, the artists were not constrained in the exclusive
art scene. The equality of artists and common people in the context of knowledge
production is part of our endeavor to create spontaneous and open spaces for
encounters.
Valsan Koorma Kolleri worked with a local ceramic workshop in Kasongan. N.S.
Harsha met the youngsters and created graffiti as part of their collaborative project to
paint a subtle cosmology. Dina Danish (in Arab edition) observed and intervened in
the process of batik making in a more conceptual framework. Aderemi Adegbite
visited Muslim families in the urban villages of Yogyakarta in order to reflect upon
his religious interpretation in a different context and at the same time initiate a grass-
root dialogue. Ndidi Dike went around many traditional markets in Yogyakarta to
extract the landscape of natural resources, food products, crafts, and commodities
around the equatorial region, particularly in Asia and Africa. From the research, she
found that those did not only serve as the people’s foundation for physical and
economic growth, but also manifested their social and cultural philosophies.
The story of Brazilian artist Daniel Lie was quite interesting because participating in
Biennale Jogja gave him opportunities to look back at his hybrid origins. He was born
in Brazil. His father is a Chinese descent who used to live in Semarang, Indonesia and
was forced to flee due to racial tension. For decades, Indonesia was only a vague
image to Daniel. Joining Biennale Jogja Equator #4 in 2017, Daniel lived in
Yogyakarta for three months and was inspired to track back the intersections of his
background and answer the questions about his own origin.
In Biennale Jogja Equator #5 2019, Southeast Asian artists tried to hack the notions
about “periphery”. The term was not limited to geographic context, but also included
different aspects of power contestation ranging from identities, religions, exploitation
of space and natural resources, to historical narratives in favor of the winner. People’s
resistance was an essential topic in the discussions among artists. They talked about
the exploitation of workers and systemic gender violence through the work of
Moelyono, Pembangunan Taman Monumen Marsinah. The artist Nguyen Trinh Thi
(from Vietnam) recounted the story of the people of Panduraga fighting their own
history and livelihood that was evicted by the state’s development projects.
Collaboration between foreign artists and local artists or communities in Biennale is
never a mere artistic practice. It always serves as a space for encounters between
individuals coming from different cultural backgrounds, who attempt to experience a
different practice and thought. Through this kind of relationship, they confront their
values with those of others directly. The process cannot be considered ideal, for sure.
It was done in only a short period of time. Nevertheless, I believe that the intensity
they felt within the exchange of experience will surely linger in their memories and
thus affect them in their future effort of building relationship. Encounters among
individuals generate imaginations of relationship among nations in a smaller scale.
Shared understanding and openness to new practices are the primary motor for
solidarity among people. By understanding different circumstances, common
awareness of the importance of building a network will be raised. Such a network is
critical for our attempt to gain regional and international support for art communities
in particular, and for civil society movement in general.
Biennalization and Decolonialization
The global art map along with the international art events underwent a major shift
post 1989. The changing circumstance was indicated with large-scale international
exhibitions organized as biennials (held once every two years) or triennials (once in
three years) across the world. It was Magicien de la terre held at the Centre Georges
Pompidou, Paris that triggered the idea to broaden the global art discourse to also
include formerly left out regions such as Asia and Latin America. Another important
milestone in achieving such goal is the Havana Biennial in Cuba in 1993. One of the
initiators is Gerardo Mosquera. The Havana Biennial is considered giving a
significant contribution because it provided an opportunity to get away from the
domination of Western discourse. Particularly, it demonstrated how art can function
as a means of political struggle. The political echo from the Havana Biennial evoked
the rise of decolonization movements and discussions on internationalism with a more
critical perspective against the Western domination. In the mid 2000s, the Sharjah
Biennial in the United Arab Emirates emerged as a powerful influence that brought
forward the artists of Arab region and North Africa as well as initiated a more open
dialogue between Islam and the West. The vast growing international biennials
around the world—that gradually feels monotonous—is criticized for accelerating
gentrification and commodifying the cultures of an urban area, particularly by bluntly
connecting the urban dynamics with global art ideas. Such criticism becomes an
intense discussion in the second half of biennial development. In many chances of
discussion, every biennial event is required to present their own uniqueness and
identity, compelling them to be different from the others. Take for example a specific
approach employed by the Ural Industrial Biennial that focuses on examining the
impact of industrialization in daily life practices. The Land Art Mongolia in
Ulaanbaatar makes itself distinctive by encouraging the artists to create artworks in
open spaces. There is also the Ghetto Biennale in Haiti that re-think the history and
concept of social class in the urban society. Biennale Jogja Equator is frequently put
on the same level with other endeavors to strengthen the study of the global South
regions or spirit that politically strives to question the power relation in the context of
the politics of culture.
In visual art discourses circa 2010s, decolonization is an important issue brought
forward by cultural activists coming from Asian, African, and South American
countries. It added to the more intense discussion on post-colonial and decolonization
issues in the politics of culture. One of the prominent post-colonial thinkers, Walter
Mignolo, said, “We, the decolonial thinkers (artist, curator, activist, critic, and
philosopher), have to cut ties with the legacy of modern aesthetic thoughts as well as
of Roman and Greek. Thus, the very first step to take is reviewing and re-creating the
legacies. The tendency to keep using these legacies still prevails due to some reasons,
one of which is the fact that Western knowledge is already spread global-wide and so
it seems to be inherent in those who experience advanced education. On the other
hand, for those who do not experience advanced education, Western knowledge is not
relevant.”
Cutting ties, as said by Mignolo, in our current context sounds radical, indeed.
However, we need a certain statement to be set as our collective myth and
imagination that will gradually come into reality as our faith in it grows. Biennale
Jogja Equator develops its own statement through its geopolitical framework of
choice: the equator. During the organization of the four recent editions until the
publication of this book (2019), the myth has at least been growing among those
engaged within—curators, artists, critics, writers, and the committees—to set the
equatorial region as our standing while creating a world view that gives
acknowledgement to our own history, knowledge, and experience. The spirit of
decolonization and the global South movements encourage us to study the narratives
of our past and acknowledge the legacies of our own predecessors. Through the
encounters with art and culture practitioners from the countries around the equator,
we learn that there exists many other knowledge connected one another due to the
shared landscape, climate, spirituality, and so forth. With the spirit of the equator, the
legacy of Western knowledge, in this context knowledge on art, that we have been
learning for ages will no longer be the sole reference. Otherwise, it should provoke us
to keep questioning the established and creating the project of our local history.
In this epilogue, it is important to mention that Biennale Jogja Equator is an ambitious
transnational project that does not include any of European, American, or Australian
countries. In consequence, during the recent eight years of managing wonderful
resources of the equatorial region, we have to work hard on arranging a funding
strategy that depends on the donors based in this region only. This is the very serious
challenge of decolonization: how far can we rely and operate on our own resources?
Funding issue, lack of infrastructure, and limited access have trapped us to return the
old system and strategy that lengthen the power of legacies we are trying to challenge.
Utilizing our own resources is not only about rejecting anything from the West, but
also serving as the means to make a decolonial struggle a shared concern of political
and cultural thinkers and practitioners in our society.
Our journey to go around the globe is already halfway, starting from India to Nigeria.
We are yet to finish the other half and this journey, for us, means experiencing space
and time. It is an adventure to go beyond the horizon and write our own story. It also
manifests our attempt to make our history, culture, and knowledge meaningful, giving
them the opportunity to seize power.