The warm glow of the afternoon sun falls softly on the untrimmed patches of grass that cover the yard. Only the repeated sounds of a wooden mallet and metal chisel break the tranquility of the afternoon.
The sounds stop as Mangku Jenggo inspects the padas stone. His imagination, channeled by the mallet and the chisel, has transformed the stone into the rugged figure of a mythical beast. It will take hours more hard work for the transformation to be complete.
But Jenggo decides to call it a day and chooses to take a cup of warm coffee instead.
“I will finish it tomorrow, or probably the day after that,” he says.
He gives the unfinished statue one more look before entering the house to fetch his coffee.
Natural artist: “I am more interested in creating sculpture than in producing shrines,” says sculptor Mangku Jenggo, who is completely self-taught. Jakarta Post /I Wayan Sunarta
The statue stands still among dozens of others lying in different parts of the yard. Unlike the statues sold in the island’s art shops and souvenir markets, Jenggo’s creations bear the mark of a different time, of a much older aesthetic style.
His creations are naïve and primitive in style. The form is basic and rugged, a far cry from the refined, heavily ornamented statues created by Balinese sculptors in the island’s tourism regions of Gianyar and Badung.
Jenggo clearly draws his inspiration from human and animal figures. Yet, through his creative process, the figures are distorted and transformed into creatures with mythical quality.
To a large extent, the statues bear close resemblance to the archaic totems and idols of the animist period before the arrival of the mainstream religions.
A resident of Umanyar hamlet, in Karangasem’s Ababi village, Jenggo doesn’t know the precise date and year of his birth. He knows only that he was still a child when the mighty Mt. Agung erupted in 1963.
“At that time I was around five or six years old,” he says. “My family took me in a truck to find shelter in a neighboring village.”
The eruption brought havoc to his village. Yet, years after the disaster, rocks and lava spouted by
the mountain during the explosion provide the village with a rich natural resource.
The villagers mined the rocks and used them to produce Hindu shrines. The industry soon became the village’s economic backbone; Umanyar’s shrines were sent to various places across the island and even shipped abroad.
As his fellow villagers enthusiastically set about building the new industry, Jenggo took a different course. He used the rocks as the material for his sculptures.
“I am more interested in creating sculpture than in producing shrines,” he says.
A self-taught artist, Jenggo had been carving wooden masks and statues long before he experimented with padas stone. His first introduction to the new material was when a friend asked him to carve a huge slab of stone into a decorative human figure.
“I sat for hours in front of that stone trying to figure out how to turn it into an art object,” he recalls.
He managed to complete the task and has been addicted to the new material ever since.
“I dig and collect padas stone from my tegalan [dried cultivated land] and carve objects based on my imagination,” he adds.
His works now adorn the yard in front of his house, his tegalan and along the narrow road that leads to his house.
Jenggo got an opportunity to meet someone who could understand his art when Bali’s noted painter Made Budhiana stumbled upon his works. An eccentric artist who loves to explore the island’s isolated regions, Budhiana has often found himself lost in narrow dirt roads that go nowhere.
And on one particular day, one narrow dirt road led Budhiana to the rows of unique statues displayed in front of Jenggo’s house.
The two chatted for hours and an intimate friendship was born. Budhiana adored Jenggo’s works; the village artist found in Budhiana the teacher he had always longed for.
“Jenggo’s works have that genuine and honest quality of an artist, who probably knows nothing about concepts or all that intellectual mumbo-jumbo, but knows everything that you need to know to create great artworks,” Budhiana says.
Although Jenggo’s naïve and primitive style proved appealing for Budhiana, the mainstream art markets have little demand for his works. Not that Jenggo carves his statues for money.
“I create them because I like bringing my imagination to life on those stones,” he says.
And so, to make a living, Jenggo says, he still tends to his farm of snake fruits, coconuts and bananas. [rc]
Copyright © 2008 The Jakarta Post - PT Bina Media Tenggara.
September 9, 2009
INDONESIA: Sculptor in his late 50s recreates an older time
.
JAKARTA, Indonesia / The Jakarta Post / Surfing Bali / September 9, 2009
By Wayan Sunarta, Contributor, Karangasem
The warm glow of the afternoon sun falls softly on the untrimmed patches of grass that cover the yard. Only the repeated sounds of a wooden mallet and metal chisel break the tranquility of the afternoon.
The sounds stop as Mangku Jenggo inspects the padas stone. His imagination, channeled by the mallet and the chisel, has transformed the stone into the rugged figure of a mythical beast. It will take hours more hard work for the transformation to be complete.
But Jenggo decides to call it a day and chooses to take a cup of warm coffee instead.
“I will finish it tomorrow, or probably the day after that,” he says.
He gives the unfinished statue one more look before entering the house to fetch his coffee.
Natural artist: “I am more interested in creating sculpture than in producing shrines,” says sculptor Mangku Jenggo, who is completely self-taught. Jakarta Post /I Wayan Sunarta
The statue stands still among dozens of others lying in different parts of the yard. Unlike the statues sold in the island’s art shops and souvenir markets, Jenggo’s creations bear the mark of a different time, of a much older aesthetic style.
His creations are naïve and primitive in style. The form is basic and rugged, a far cry from the refined, heavily ornamented statues created by Balinese sculptors in the island’s tourism regions of Gianyar and Badung.
Jenggo clearly draws his inspiration from human and animal figures. Yet, through his creative process, the figures are distorted and transformed into creatures with mythical quality.
To a large extent, the statues bear close resemblance to the archaic totems and idols of the animist period before the arrival of the mainstream religions.
A resident of Umanyar hamlet, in Karangasem’s Ababi village, Jenggo doesn’t know the precise date and year of his birth. He knows only that he was still a child when the mighty Mt. Agung erupted in 1963.
“At that time I was around five or six years old,” he says. “My family took me in a truck to find shelter in a neighboring village.”
The eruption brought havoc to his village. Yet, years after the disaster, rocks and lava spouted by
the mountain during the explosion provide the village with a rich natural resource.
The villagers mined the rocks and used them to produce Hindu shrines. The industry soon became the village’s economic backbone; Umanyar’s shrines were sent to various places across the island and even shipped abroad.
As his fellow villagers enthusiastically set about building the new industry, Jenggo took a different course. He used the rocks as the material for his sculptures.
“I am more interested in creating sculpture than in producing shrines,” he says.
A self-taught artist, Jenggo had been carving wooden masks and statues long before he experimented with padas stone. His first introduction to the new material was when a friend asked him to carve a huge slab of stone into a decorative human figure.
“I sat for hours in front of that stone trying to figure out how to turn it into an art object,” he recalls.
He managed to complete the task and has been addicted to the new material ever since.
“I dig and collect padas stone from my tegalan [dried cultivated land] and carve objects based on my imagination,” he adds.
His works now adorn the yard in front of his house, his tegalan and along the narrow road that leads to his house.
Jenggo got an opportunity to meet someone who could understand his art when Bali’s noted painter Made Budhiana stumbled upon his works. An eccentric artist who loves to explore the island’s isolated regions, Budhiana has often found himself lost in narrow dirt roads that go nowhere.
And on one particular day, one narrow dirt road led Budhiana to the rows of unique statues displayed in front of Jenggo’s house.
The two chatted for hours and an intimate friendship was born. Budhiana adored Jenggo’s works; the village artist found in Budhiana the teacher he had always longed for.
“Jenggo’s works have that genuine and honest quality of an artist, who probably knows nothing about concepts or all that intellectual mumbo-jumbo, but knows everything that you need to know to create great artworks,” Budhiana says.
Although Jenggo’s naïve and primitive style proved appealing for Budhiana, the mainstream art markets have little demand for his works. Not that Jenggo carves his statues for money.
“I create them because I like bringing my imagination to life on those stones,” he says.
And so, to make a living, Jenggo says, he still tends to his farm of snake fruits, coconuts and bananas. [rc]
Copyright © 2008 The Jakarta Post - PT Bina Media Tenggara.
The warm glow of the afternoon sun falls softly on the untrimmed patches of grass that cover the yard. Only the repeated sounds of a wooden mallet and metal chisel break the tranquility of the afternoon.
The sounds stop as Mangku Jenggo inspects the padas stone. His imagination, channeled by the mallet and the chisel, has transformed the stone into the rugged figure of a mythical beast. It will take hours more hard work for the transformation to be complete.
But Jenggo decides to call it a day and chooses to take a cup of warm coffee instead.
“I will finish it tomorrow, or probably the day after that,” he says.
He gives the unfinished statue one more look before entering the house to fetch his coffee.
Natural artist: “I am more interested in creating sculpture than in producing shrines,” says sculptor Mangku Jenggo, who is completely self-taught. Jakarta Post /I Wayan Sunarta
The statue stands still among dozens of others lying in different parts of the yard. Unlike the statues sold in the island’s art shops and souvenir markets, Jenggo’s creations bear the mark of a different time, of a much older aesthetic style.
His creations are naïve and primitive in style. The form is basic and rugged, a far cry from the refined, heavily ornamented statues created by Balinese sculptors in the island’s tourism regions of Gianyar and Badung.
Jenggo clearly draws his inspiration from human and animal figures. Yet, through his creative process, the figures are distorted and transformed into creatures with mythical quality.
To a large extent, the statues bear close resemblance to the archaic totems and idols of the animist period before the arrival of the mainstream religions.
A resident of Umanyar hamlet, in Karangasem’s Ababi village, Jenggo doesn’t know the precise date and year of his birth. He knows only that he was still a child when the mighty Mt. Agung erupted in 1963.
“At that time I was around five or six years old,” he says. “My family took me in a truck to find shelter in a neighboring village.”
The eruption brought havoc to his village. Yet, years after the disaster, rocks and lava spouted by
the mountain during the explosion provide the village with a rich natural resource.
The villagers mined the rocks and used them to produce Hindu shrines. The industry soon became the village’s economic backbone; Umanyar’s shrines were sent to various places across the island and even shipped abroad.
As his fellow villagers enthusiastically set about building the new industry, Jenggo took a different course. He used the rocks as the material for his sculptures.
“I am more interested in creating sculpture than in producing shrines,” he says.
A self-taught artist, Jenggo had been carving wooden masks and statues long before he experimented with padas stone. His first introduction to the new material was when a friend asked him to carve a huge slab of stone into a decorative human figure.
“I sat for hours in front of that stone trying to figure out how to turn it into an art object,” he recalls.
He managed to complete the task and has been addicted to the new material ever since.
“I dig and collect padas stone from my tegalan [dried cultivated land] and carve objects based on my imagination,” he adds.
His works now adorn the yard in front of his house, his tegalan and along the narrow road that leads to his house.
Jenggo got an opportunity to meet someone who could understand his art when Bali’s noted painter Made Budhiana stumbled upon his works. An eccentric artist who loves to explore the island’s isolated regions, Budhiana has often found himself lost in narrow dirt roads that go nowhere.
And on one particular day, one narrow dirt road led Budhiana to the rows of unique statues displayed in front of Jenggo’s house.
The two chatted for hours and an intimate friendship was born. Budhiana adored Jenggo’s works; the village artist found in Budhiana the teacher he had always longed for.
“Jenggo’s works have that genuine and honest quality of an artist, who probably knows nothing about concepts or all that intellectual mumbo-jumbo, but knows everything that you need to know to create great artworks,” Budhiana says.
Although Jenggo’s naïve and primitive style proved appealing for Budhiana, the mainstream art markets have little demand for his works. Not that Jenggo carves his statues for money.
“I create them because I like bringing my imagination to life on those stones,” he says.
And so, to make a living, Jenggo says, he still tends to his farm of snake fruits, coconuts and bananas. [rc]
Copyright © 2008 The Jakarta Post - PT Bina Media Tenggara.
