Disrupting Indonesia’s Colonial Pasts

Invocation of an Urgent Call for Martyr

Jeprut is an art movement developed in the late 1980s in the context of the authoritarian Suharto regime which was in power from 1966 to 1998, also known as the New Order Regime. Reaching its peak in the 1990s, Jeprut served as a form of resistance through the act of disruption. Jeprut artists conducted internal and external resistance movements, by which it resists the political situation and the art’s existence during the New Order Regime. Jeprut took forms of art with performative elements that exist at any time, any place and in any form that is deemed as unusual as it doesn’t conform to the norms of art performances. The existence of Jeprut confirms the power relation that defines what art is while at the same disrupting that very standard that defines them.

Zico Albiquini’s deep admiration of Jeprut partly constructs his inaugural exhibition, called Tilem. Disruptive Liminalities, curated by Sadiah Boonstra. He recalls his early memory of seeing Jeprut artists with written protests across their bodies, which they washed off as they walked down the street. As witnesses to this art performance, the audiences didn’t immediately recognise it as a piece of art due to its abstractness and unexpectedness. Instead, audiences were left to question what it was that they just saw. Zico expresses the fascination that led him to fuel his art with the spirit of Jeprut to pay homage to this art movement and the artists that popularised it.

Through this exhibition, Zico and Sadiah direct the audiences to think about and develop the idea of coloniality as a way to understand how colonial structures that have been put in place during the colonial period persist today in various forms. Forms that might not be easily recognisable as such. The arts is one of those forms. “Who defined what global or international art is? What are the determining factors that define the global or universalised standard of art? And who created those standards?”, Sadiah questions. “What has been accepted as the global or universalised standard of art is a Eurocentric view of art that has been spread all over the world in the wake of this structure of colonialism and infrastructure that also includes exhibition practices,” she explains.

It is Still Happening Back There

Through the giclee process and oil painting, Zico added new layers of meaning on top of the colonial images and archival images that referenced Indonesian artworks and art history that he merged into his paintings. “It is powerful. It creates a whole new story of the image by painting over it. Creating new meaning and new possibilities of how we can look at our past, especially our colonial past. That’s why we call it disruptive liminalities. It is this in-between space. In-between colonial history, Indonesian art history and the future, there is this space where we can try to search for a new direction in Indonesian history as well as Indonesian art. All the works here are disruptive in a way that is similar to what Jeprut was doing at the time in the political context. Although here, the emphasis is on the colonial history that shapes exhibition practices and the globalised standards of art,” Sadiah explains.

The Anthroporn

The vibrant colours that filled the white exhibition walls highlight the topics of power and class. Zico enlightens on the hierarchical nature of colours that further enrich the conversations on coloniality in his exhibition. He shares, “for a bit of time, the topic “hijau kemiskinan” (translated - the colour green that symbolise poverty) was trending on Twitter. Users talked about how there is this pigment green that is commonly used to paint budget flats, and that symbolises poverty. The interesting thing is, for those who know the history, that very pigment was used to paint Marie Antoinette's room. And of course, in that context, that pigment does not symbolise poverty, but the opposite.” In this exhibition, Zico constructed the counter-narratives of colours that carry historical significance that points to the colonial journey. He says, “some of the purple pigments you’ll see in the paintings are the kind of pigments that can only be used by royalty at the time.” Zico countered that narrative and painted new layers of meaning using those pigments.

Zico’s creative practice to some extent is based on anger. Being angry at the inequality created by coloniality both within and outside the spaces of art practice. Through his works, he confronts coloniality by acknowledging the richness of Indonesian art and choosing to reject the Eurocentric view and standard that defines art. He says, “it shouldn’t be our job to work hard to be recognised by them, but they must be diligent in learning about us”. Sadiah shares the same sentiment. She says, “why are we not regarded as on the same level as European Art or North American Art? Actually, who cares? Let’s just do whatever we want.”

To Mend a Monument