When the term seni lukis is uttered in Bahasa Indonesia, it automatically generates a vivid image in my memory, encompassing local history, culture, and everyday life. From there, I reassess how the term 'painting' shapes my way of sensing and interpretation within a context inseparable from the historicisation of contemporary art. In this research, I position seni lukis within a performative tradition, rather than its physical form as painting.
Drawing from Sanento Yuliman's 1983 essay 'Tradisi Lukis: Lukis dalam pengertian sediakala' (Tradition in Painting: Painting in the Sense of What It Used to be), I argue that thinking is doing.1 Sanento’s Seni lukis describes praxis, emphasising behaviour, action, skill, dexterity, and the specific way of creating. The English expression ‘to paint’ has genealogical roots in paint as a physical material and object while the Indonesian terms (lukisan , melukis , seni lukis ) do not.
My research activates materiality as experiential knowledge production. I paint, or perform, seni lukis through engagement with narratives.
During the Dutch East Indies Company (VOC) era, Pre-Modern Malay was adapted and primarily used for commercial purposes in Indonesia (Bazaar Malay). This continued when the Dutch colonial government took control of the colony. At that time, Pre-Modern Malay was chosen to control the spread of European liberal ideas and values to the colonies. Paradoxically, this created a sense of identity among young nationalists who later, on 28 October 1928, declared the Youth Pledge (Sumpah Permuda):
+ Historical Indonesian Youth Pledge, Sumpah Pemuda in 1928 Jakarta Source: Wikimedia Commons. Licensed under CC BY 4.0 DEED Attribution 4.0 International.
FIRST. We, the sons and daughters of Indonesia, Acknowledge one motherland, the motherland of Indonesia. SECOND. We, the sons and daughters of Indonesia, acknowledge one nation, the nation of Indonesia. THIRD. We, the sons and daughters of Indonesia, acknowledge the language of unity, the Indonesian language.
One motherland, one nation, the language of unity. Language became a unifying force and facilitated the communication of new ideas to the public on a broader scale, much like how it had previously been used as a tool for trade.
Sanento Yuliman defined the term 'painting' through tracing lukis from the Kawi word anglukis. 2 The Kawi lukis as explained by Sanento is a practice with its own traditions. The Indonesian seni lukis in turn directed me to consider the practice in the performative rather than the material tradition. I am enthused by this, which inspires my process of activating materiality in knowledge production.
Furthermore, in broader Indonesian society, the terms lukis and gambar are interchangeable. In 'Peristilahan Gambar (The meaning of the word gambar)', Sanento Yuliman explains that gambar itself can be approximately described as a 'representational image.' Its historical usage includes human portraiture as well as description of statues. Sanento explains that over time, gambar evolved to describe various images, such as television shows, films, maps, photographs, or even 'mental pictures.'3 However, when objectivity is emphasised in gambar , the object of gambar will be realised on a physical area or a field. This physical area or field is the gambar ’s medium, which can be in the form of a piece of board, paper, fabric, house wall, or other objects. This object is referred to as the artwork’s image—or gambar .
Seni lukis is not just about representational objects but should also be understood as a praxis. As Sanento explained, Tantu Panggelaran teaches us that lukis cannot be separated from belief. It is a skill passed down by the gods. Lukis makers are recognised by the term Empu (Indonesian: thumb) because it was the name given to the first lukis- maker, Empu Ciptangkara, and because they use their thumb when gripping the lukis tools.4
Melukis, or making lukis , is a god-given craft and the spiritual is an essential part of understanding this practice. The title Empu places emphasis on the thumb and explains the importance of further exploring the connection between dexterity, practice, and action. It also demonstrates the importance Tantu Panggelaran puts on this spiritual praxis; since it's not based on its materiality, lukis can manifest in various forms. Based on the story of Empu Ciptangkara, lukis can be carvings, sculptures, statues, fabrics, to surfaces such as glass.
Lukis cannot be separated from the act of creating something from nothing, and into a form that stirs the imagination. I believe that this tradition puts a noteworthy emphasis on praxis. This observation aligns with how other forms of art in Indonesia possess praxis dimensions.
My understanding of seni lukis takes a wider perspective that acknowledges the flexibility and the diversity of its manifestation, while also challenging the colonial paradigm. I have been researching the word barat (West) within Indonesian contemporary art discourse. One of the catalysts of this argument is Sudjojono's 1948 essay titled ' We Know Where We will be Taking Indonesian Painting.' The opening goes as follows:
As Indonesians, we admit that the art we make here nowadays has a western style. Nevertheless, to say that it is not an Indonesian style is not accurate. First, long before Raden Saleh, we had a history of painting. {Bold by this author}5
I have identified this as a turning point in Indonesian seni lukis history. I apply Sudjojono’s use of seni lukis as a philosophy to explore what else ‘painting’ could be beyond what I had previously studied in university. I consciously take this position and position my work and my role as an artist here: to delve into and enrich the treasury of knowledge.
During the early phase of this inquiry, I studied numerous archives, texts, and historical images from the colonial era. I attempted to incorporate my insights into my lukisan and into my exhibition design.
From a Neutral to a Shared Space
I am enquiring into how our shared awareness of historical time informs our shared present. I am interested in how our awareness of contemporaneity influences our perception and perspective about time and history.
In particular, I believe new media and information technology play an important role in actualising and representing this feeling of contemporaneity. As a result, I have been looking at images, recordings, and personal documents about these themes. These documents have been educating me on the essence, emotion, and the rationale behind Western seni lukis as well as visual arts present in their institutional structures.
Spaces such as museums are an integral part of my discussion in this essay. My journey can be traced to my early encounters with colonial art exhibitions. My experience in those exhibitions informed my belief that the exhibition spaces cannot be separated from how Indonesian colonial history understood historical Indigenous societies. Indigenous societies tend to be positioned as “others”, which subsumes them into the established worldview. This perspective often results in concerning and limited conclusions instead of curiosity in understanding how these cultures develop. This in turn leads to Indigenous cultures being showcased and compared with the advancements in their countries.
+ From West to East, From North to South Zico Albaiquni, 2024. Part one of "Lukisan" as a Praxis series. All rights reserved.
+ Zico Albaiquni at the studio Photo: Kartika Larasati, 2024. All rights reserved.
In my artistic practice, I experiment with the idea of cultural interaction within the arts. I transform an exhibition space into an image and create an environment with multiple points of entry. This environment invites discussion on topics such as globalisation, technological advances, social and political transformations, and the fragmentation of historical narratives. In transforming space into image, I create conditions that transform how real objects in physical space is understood. By using my exhibition space as the focal point, I guide my audience toward the mental space of interpretation.
Through this exploration, I have come to realise that exhibition spaces—that are traditionally understood to be neutral and universal—inherently possess certain contextual and institutional frameworks that steer them away from an idea of neutrality. Instead, exhibition spaces could be shared spaces: for example, the front porch, the living room, spaces that are dynamically changing. Seni is an in-between space that is partitioned but not closed off. Exhibition space, part of Indonesia’s colonial legacy, is not meant to be eliminated because of the wounds, the trauma, and the tarnished heritage that it carries. Rather, my seni lukis acknowledges historical fragments, human beings, spirits, and carries the essence of the legacy of those who have interacted before us.
This process of cleansing is called ruatan/ruwatan in Sundanese culture. I intend to continuously study ruatan with the objective of fostering empathy and facilitating emotional management, which in turn informs how I generate spiritual benefits when executing lukis. The objective is to develop an outlook that transcends the erroneous dialectic of describing the use of museum-like spaces as neo-colonialist and the disavowal of these spaces as a decolonial act, which is not productive.
Colour as a Method
+ Photo: Zico Albaiquni, 2021. Villa Isola located in Bandung, the building was designed by Dutch architect Charles Prosper Wolff Schoemaker. All rights reserved. + A House with a "Poverty Green" Colour Photo: Zico Albaiquni, 2023. The house is located at Cigorowong, Ciamis. All rights reserved.
I transform colours displayed on painting into lukis work through research into the etymology of lukis . Colour contains narratives. It has historical significance, is a marker of trade, an indicator of technological progress, a reflection of class, and a symbol of social status and tastes. When used actively, colour has the potential to disrupt, to captivate, and open lines of conversation. Through colour, I endeavour to defamiliarise my paintings, at times by collaging images from Western fine art history, imbuing them with hues associated with the tropics, kampungan (plebeian) sensibilities, and the vulgar classes.
When I am creating lukis, colour pigments are the crucial medium for my engagement with the audience. My use of colours is informed by my studies on colour theory and composition. My paintings are further informed by Pythagoras principles to create a sense of harmony. I chose Pythagoras as a starting point because of its alignment with Sundanese philosophy of 'mutual care, mutual compassion, mutual care.' This is a pragmatic artistic formulation which is then used to determine colour value composition.
The colours used were inspired by the colours found in the villages of West Java. These colours are often considered as plebeian, vulgar, and uncultured when compared to other colours associated with Javanese culture, especially the natural and concentrated colours found in Javanese palaces or those found in art deco Dutch houses in Bandung. Initially associated with class differences, these plebeian colours were even associated with poverty, serving as foil to the elegant and prestigious white commonly found in the city's colonial houses.
By changing the colours of my found footage or images, I invite viewers to discover these found images in a different context. In my physical migratory movements, the exploration of colour continues to be one focus that broadens my perspective. Throughout, I am refining the tools that help in the creation of my lukis.
Colonial Legacy in Contemporary Indonesian Representation
+ From West to East, From North to South Zico Albaiquni, 2024. Part three of "Lukisan" as a Praxis series. All rights reserved.
During the Dutch colony era, the Dutch Indies colonial government had deliberately attempted to preserve the "authenticity" of the region. This seemingly progressive viewpoint is a superficial façade. In its core, there was a pursuit for economic profits and pragmatic considerations that overrides local intricacies. Nonetheless, traces of this Dutch strategy can still be found in Indonesian society today.
This Dutch-influenced strategy has resulted in the way precolonial cultural artefacts, such as Wayang Beber from the Pajajaran era showcased at the Sri Baduga Museum are displayed in museums. However, the collection lacks accessible documentation and exhibition captions. This lack of context means Sundanese are unable to properly engage with the history and significance of Wayang Beber even though it is a part of their culture. Consequently, contemporary interpretations undergo constant change as the proverbs and allegory are lost. In other words, these static artefacts serve merely as observable objects in the museum and are not actively used for contemporary artistic expression.
+ The Silent Storyteller from the East Zico Albaiquni, 2024. Wayang Beber dalang is depicted in front of the house. All rights reserved.
Therefore, I see museumification as an act that detaches the artefacts from their environment, in turn stifling cultural growth.
On an interesting note, I am noticing a similar trend in the Indonesian government's approach, where museums are often used as a façade to promote cultural tourism. This approach reinforces the belief that Indonesian seni lukis stays confined in a museum display case, preventing any kind of interaction or involvement beyond visual observation. Their strategy is rooted in a Dutch colonial strategy but preserved in a different form.
In conclusion, I have understood lukis as a cultural formation that requires further literary study. It already has solid knowledge framework and epistemology paradigm from Sanento Yuliman’s writing practice. I am attempting to further expand this knowledge trove through my practical exploration of lukis. Through my critical examination and artistic practice, I intend to facilitate the navigation and interpretation of cultural formations, enrich the understanding of diverse cultures, and advocate for a more commensurate representation.
+ Zico Albaiquni, Doa Ibu Sepanjang Zaman Photo: Doni Ahmad, 2017. Plengkung Gading, Yogyakarta, Indonesia. All rights reserved.