Rumah Seni Cemeti
Cemeti Art
House — or House of Art – Cemeti.
The surprise was in the noun—Whip.
Cemeti in Bahasa Indonesian.
It
defeated the Madurese guide, Mahshushah.
Why of all things “whip” for an art
gallery? Whip? Like... drawing a shaft and strands in the air, closing the fist
on the handle.
We talked
whips for a bit just to be sure we were on the same page; then livestock and
villages more broadly.
Up in a European mountain plateau village posing for a
photograph, the author had once held a whip behind oxen—the equivalent of
buffalo here—and in the play made the mistake of twisting his wrist slightly. Thereby the beasts set into alarming motion.
With firmer belief in the
truth of the tale, Mahshushah—Susi for short—might have laughed more freely.
On the island of Madura they used bulls instead for ploughing, and staged races
across the fields. There were competitions for beauty in cows too. Whips were
common.
The difficulty in explaining the usage for a gallery remained however.
A
Footscray, Melbourne artist with an Aboriginal heritage had recently completed
a residency at Cemeti; we had come to see the outcome. Too late
unfortunately—some kind of cock-up in dates.
Some of the same questions and
impulses for a contemporary Aboriginal artist would have been shared with Javanese.
The work of this artist that remained on the long wall at Cemeti featured
images of a boxing and speared kangaroo, fractured smiling/gaping skulls, and
LOVE/HATE finger tattoos either hand. Space astronauts/invaders landed on the
ground of a kampung, in the case of one of the locals in the storeroom.
Gray
volcanic soil and ash was evident in the gardens below a twenty foot jackfruit
tree, which closely approximated a walnut.
Caged pigeons, sculpted stones and a
well-shaped, upraised timber was fashioned into a bench-seat.
WARRIORS /
Come Out To Play had not been immediately legible at the Australian’s entry
portal.
The chief
building at Cemeti was a modestly impressive work of art in itself. Originally
the structure had stood out in the area of Imogiri, about forty kilometers from
Jogja, where a burial ground for the Sultans had been sited. Under the
supervision of an architect the house had been disassembled and reconstructed
in this art precinct not far from the Sultan’s Palace.
Six wooden posts hoisted
the building, the refreshing ventilation coming from wide openings front and
rear. Above bamboo lining immediately beneath the roof-tiles provided
surprising insulation.
Old, weathered, barn-like doors, neutral tiling and simple
annexes for extra space.
No need for actual whips to press the point—their
presence hanging on one of the walls or behind a door was suggested.
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