SCHATZART

art by roman w schatz

My Java Diary part 3

May 12

The monkey was wearing a red suit and riding a small motorbike. After crashing the bike he then started to jump through a hoop.
I am crammed into a small mini van, the kind that make up a large proportion of the congested traffic in Bandung. I am heading of to meet Arief and Chief Ginggi somewhere in town.  The monkey is just one of many intersection entertainments where people busk for money.  They range from the very young, who should be at school, to the old, who should be cared for by some loved one.   Witnessing poverty is one of the hardest things that I have to deal with when I travel, but it also firms my resolve that education is the only way out of it.

The driver signals that I have arrived at my destination. I am not sure where I am but I am relieved to see my friends waiting for me.  We attend a contemporary music performance conducted by a Mexican musician who is studying traditional Indonesian music. I feel energized after the performance and I am ready to for the drive back to Jatiwangi.

What should have been a two-hour drive turns into a regular road trip.  As always I’m not sure what is planned, and we stop off at several friend’s places in Bandung to say hello.  We visit a filmmaker, photographers and two artists’ studios. By now I know the routine: sweet black coffee, many clove flavoured cigarettes and much discussion. It is now 10 pm and I think we are finally on the road proper. As we approach the mountain road that leads down to the valley; Chief Ginggi informs me dryly, that many Indonesians die on this road!  Great, I am on the highway to hell! 
What a trip it turned out to, by midnight we are still heading down the road, and it is bumper to bumper in both directions!

When we finally make it off the mountain, it’s time for another stop.  ‘Makan, makan’ Ginggie calls out with a grin on his face.  Of course, time to eat again.  With our stomachs settled by a large helping of noodles, rice and fried prawns we are ready for the home stretch. 
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May 13

I was about to say good night to everyone, as it had been a long day after yesterday’s epic drive home. I was then informed that I was ‘on’ in two minutes! I remembered someone mentioning a possible interview on the local radio station, but something about the timing must have got lost in the translation.  Luckily my years of being a radio broadcaster held me in good stead for the late night live talk back show, I had to be present for.  The broadcaster also turned out to be my assistant Aceng, and together we entertained a lively audience with a bilingual discussion on the meaning of my arts project.  The discussion also helped me to verbalise my ideas and bring the project into a tighter focus.

Earlier that evening I spend some time in the studio working on the sculptures and it occurred to me that my working method changes with the working environment.  I want to involve as many people of the community as possible and this will only be achieved by adopting local methods. Just like a street food hacker, I will take the ‘Basket of Hope’ sculpture through the back lanes of the village and allow the locals to place a wish in it. This way I am adopting a local dialogue method.

I am also making good progress with my photo essay.  Having the luxury of time means I am able to build a level of trust with the workers.  This is starting to reflect in the images.  I welcomed the opportunity to share all of these ideas with the radio audience.
 
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May 14

‘What do you mean your mother told you not to eat with your hands?’ Arief looked at me bewildered, when I blamed my Swiss upbringing for not being able to master the art of hand feeding myself.  Then we both burst into laughter at the ridiculous situation.  It’s Saturday night and I am out with the boys, sitting on a carpet on the front lawn of the senior high school principal’s house and we are having a late dinner.  By now we must have gone trough several six packs of cold sweet tea, as we once again discuss the meaning of life. The air outside is a thick mixture of clove scented Indonesian cigarettes and eye burning smoke from the kilns of the numerous tile factories nearby. 

I finally manage to eat my meal, which came served on a Jati leave, but it was the first time that I finished last.  During my stay at Jatiwangi, I am reading Khaaled Hosseini’s ‘The  Kite Runner’ and tonight, not for the first time, I am struck at the similarities of Afghan and Indonesian life. But I guess, that because Indonesia is a predominantly Muslim country, it is not surprising. So I sit with the men, and it’s usually only with the men, on the carpet, drink more coffee and we work out the remaining schedule for my residency. There is no need for me to take any notes, as so far all arrangements have been fluid.  It suits me well!
 
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May 15

I was right about having to be flexible!  Sunday morning was supposed to be our second big workshop day with the local school students.  I set my alarm for 6 am and was ready for the planned 7 o’clock start.  My trusty assistant, Aceng, was here as well, armed with our ‘Basket of Hope’ we set off on foot to the school in anticipation of a busy morning.  Unfortunately our hopes for a productive morning were dashed, as an empty school ground greeted us.  I suspect communications broke down somewhere down the line.  Not to be persuaded by this apparent set back, Aceng and I just hang around; somebody will turn up we told ourselves. The local Tae Kwon Do group who arrived to do their practice saved us.  In the true spirit of flexibility, instead of performing martial arts, the group was invited to create contemporary art!

By early afternoon the persistent wet season cooled us down for the rest of the day. I found myself a dry and quiet spot and finished reading my book.
 
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May 16

Now that the project has reached its half-way point, my thoughts are turning to finishing the work.  The gallery space here at the Arts Factory is a fine location to install the sculptures and show the photos.  Much thought is given to reflecting the environment in which the work was created.  The use of bamboo, batik and rattan adds to the local feel.   Later in the day the local video production team, who produced a small documentary about the project, interviewed me.

I spend some time in the evening in the studio by myself, working on the sculpture.  The sound of countless local muezzins washes over me, interrupted only by the occasional rhythmical call of a lone gecko.
 
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May 17

I am back on the bike, it’s probably a size too small for me as my knees keep hitting the handlebars and the saddle keeps slipping into a very uncomfortable position.  Putting on a brave face I peddle on. I am assured it’s not very far; I hope he’s right!  The local screen printer, Denny, has invited me to inspect his workshop.  I am also getting some t-shirts custom made. I’m happy to support the local economy. Danny introduces me to his family and staff and proudly shows off his workshop.  Like many locals, he’s built the house and workshop himself, with the help of local people and local material.  I know I’ll be proud to wear my handmade t-shirt from Jatiwangi.

The Tae Kwon Do team arrived later in the afternoon to listen to a story and work on one of the Baskets of Hope.  The baskets are doing their job, as the boys and girls chat with each other and some keen ones even practice their English on me.  I, in turn ,pick up the odd Indonesian phrase and so the basket has become a social meeting point.
 
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May 19

About eighty curious pairs of eyes greeted me as I entered the classroom; there were no chairs or tables, just a spotless floor.  The students of the Islamic Elementary School at Madrasan Cijati, near Majalengka were lined up against the wall, boys and girls neatly divided.  We had arrived via a mini bus to continue our project at a regional school community. This time I had company and was supported by Melissa, a theatre performer from Mexico, and local musician Tedi En.  My  assistant Aceng was also there to translate for me. I had met the principal of he school a couple of nights ago, and we had arranged for the project to come to his school.  This turned out to be one of the more rewarding experiences for me.  Perhaps it was the idyllic setting of the school amongst the rice paddies and surrounded by volcanic mountains, or it was the shy enthusiasm of the students who made me so welcome at their school.  Hearing the story of ‘Stone Soup’ in two languages and acted out by two grown men had the students entranced. While Aceng and I worked with half of the school on the stories and the material sculpture, Melissa and Tedi found a large shady tree and entertained the other half with songs and dances.

The drive home was interrupted by a stop at the local market to buy a large helping of cooked snails, a local delicacy!
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May 20

As part of the final presentation in my residency, I am going to show the photos of the tile makers to the workers in the factory.  So this morning I was catching up with some last photo shooting at the factory.  This time Chief Ginggi and his camera trailed me as he is making a mini documentary about my photo project here.  Having someone who speaks the local language was a good opportunity to explain some of the shots that I had in mind, and I got some powerful portraits done.

I wasn’t going to fool any one with my dress up; there was no way I was going to be mistaken for a local gamelan player.  If there was any doubts, these were soon dispelled the moment I sat down with the drums. It made for some amusing photos though. At times my jaws ache from smiling, as every body takes the opportunity to have their photo taken with the ‘Mister’.  I am happy to oblige, it seems to be the least I can do with so much generosity given to me.

I had come to watch the local gamelan group practice their music, puppet play and dance routine.  It was inevitable that I would be somehow dragged into the action. I knew the moment had come when one of the players arrived with a costume for me.  By the time I had squeezed myself into the outfit, many cameras were at the ready. I just kept smiling.
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May 21

I’m bouncing up and down in the back of a small truck, surrounded by bleary-eyed Art Factory artists, a large canvas and two baskets of Hope.   It’s just after 7 am and we are heading to the Junior High school in Jatiwangi, our next project stop. This turned out to be the biggest turnout yet, as over a thousand students gathered for the morning assembly.  We were treated to gamelan and a dance performance.  Then it was time to address the students and inform them about the project.  Later, as we split up into a more intimate size, I worked with about 250 students on two of the baskets.  We also set the groundwork on a future collaboration to create a local ‘I Am’ project. (for more information on ‘I AM’ see my website: http://www.schatzblackrose.com/)

As the third week comes to a close, I can now envisage the final outcome of this project.  But there are still some local performances planned with the baskets, including a visit to the local health care centre and a walk through the village with the baskets.  It promises to be an exciting last week.
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The Java Diary -part 1

May 1
My first day in Indonesia.  I arrived at the Ibis after a long day’s travel from Port Macquarie, tired, but happy that I managed to catch the right taxi and ended up at the right hotel.  I am too tired to even go down to the lobby of the hotel to grab a bite to eat, so it’s a crunchie bar saved from the aeroplane food and a free teabag for my dinner.  I sleep well.  The next morning I am woken by the dawn chorus. Unlike Australia, it’s not the sound of birds that greet me, but the call to prayer.
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May 2
Today I am not going to skip food and treat myself to an Indonesian style buffet breakfast; mi goreng, tofu, rice and various other local treats.  Having nourished myself it was time to head to the train station to catch the train to Cirebon. The taxi ride gives me a short taste of Jakarta’s famed traffic.  Thankfully the station is only 5 minutes away, which translates into 20 minuets in the traffic. Ticket purchased, I am comfortably seated in the business class of the Cirebon Express. Business class turns out to be several carriages of worn out bench seats with windows that only open a fraction, to give some relief from the humidity.  There are overhead fans, but they don’t work.

Three hours later I arrive in Cirebon and I set out to purchase a local SIM card.  Everybody wants to help, preferably to drive me to the nearest shop in a taxi!   Finally I manage to find the right shop myself and I’m now in possession of a local phone number.  As I am leaving the shop the only other westerner, a tall blonde European woman, approaches me, and asks if I can help with the purchase of a SIM card.  Of course I can! As I am explaining how, my host, Arief, arrives with his lovely wife and welcomes me and my ‘wife’. That was quick I’m in the country less than 24 hours and I already have a new wife.  However, once the situation is explained, we head off in the ‘good’ car towards my new home for the next four weeks, Jatiwangi in West Java.

The first stop in my new village is the district government office, where we have to drop the ‘good’ car off, as it belongs to village chief and was only borrowed to pick up the VIP guest, aka me!  As it turned out, we could keep the car to drop me off at the arts factory, and we didn’t have to use the pick up truck for the final journey.

My first impressiones of Java are overwhelming! Unlike north Asian countries, everybody wants to say hello to me with beautiful smiles everywhere. The Jatiwangi Arts Factory (JaFa) is a community meeting place, a roof tile factory, education centre and a community radio station.  I am made welcome by everybody as we drink strong black Java coffee and discuss art late into the night.  I sleep well in my small room until I am awoken again by a higher pitched  dawn chorus. This time a mixture of mozzies buzzing my ears, a rooster who can’t sleep and a strange local bird who calls very loudly join in the call to prayer.  It’s 4 am and my first night’s sleep at JaFa is over.
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May 3
As I was awake early, I decided to explore the neighbourhood. What a sight. It had had been raining all night and now the early morning sun turned the village into a tropical steam bath.  Slowly I make my way past street market sellers who are sitting next to the mud puddles selling fresh produce.  Students are making their way to school and as they spot me, they all point and laugh.  I am glad that I can provide some morning entertainment.  I just smile and point my camera at them.

Later that morning I met with the village chief and we discussed the importance of people initiated arts education for fostering a healthy community.   The JaFa is a testament to the effectiveness of his initiative.  The ‘factory’ complex consists of a working roof tile factory, a pre-school, community radio station and Sunday morning adult education classes, it is never locked.

It’s hot and humid and I feel myself slowing down to the local rhythm.  Many ‘salam’s’ are followed with a little discussion and a cup of java coffee.  No need to hurry.   Later in the afternoon we build the first two structures for the Vessels project.  I feel a bit like Andy Warhol as I have so many helpers here at the factory.  No sooner had we built the first frame, a group of sweaty young boys who had just finished playing football arrived and were keen to start weaving.  Within thirty minuets we had used up all of the available materials and the project completed its first successful session.

The members of the JaFa scheduled an evening meeting to discuss the final details of my residency.  We spent the night discussing art, drinking more coffee and everybody smoked clove cigarettes, except me.  I think I must be the only male over the age of 12 who doesn’t smoke!  The evening finished off with a late night visit to the main street market, which by now was almost deserted, save for a few small street cafes that were selling the last of their offerings. 

I had a smile on my face as I fell asleep in my bed.
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May 4
“ The goat is really fat and will make good eating,” he assured me, and he would make a good price for me!  I kindly declined the goat but I did take up his offer to take shelter from the sweltering midday heat in his small goat stable.  I had wandered off into the neighbouring streets to familiarise myself further with the village.  The man turned out to be one of many small goat farmers in the area. He had nine big goats in his front yard stable.  I got to meet his family and was encouraged to rest a while.  I had only just started my walk and already everybody is waving to me and begging me to come and say hello. About twenty minuets later I am surrounded by a huddle of kids and their mothers. I am offered the opportunity to buy coconut cakes for everybody. I oblige. 

I am the only white man in the village!

The only way to make an even bigger spectacle of myself was going for a bicycle with the village chief Ginggi. Carefully balanced on an old Dutch heritage bike, we ride out of the village to inspect the organic rice field, another project initiated by the chief.  Riding with the chief is quite an experience.  Everybody spots Ginggi, and bows, as they zoom past on motor scooters and cycle taxies called ‘becak’ and then they burst into laughter when they see me manoeuvring through the traffic. Later that evening as storm clouds threaten, we ride home in the dark. I now feel at ease on my bike, and love being part of the traffic mix.
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May 6
When I got up this morning I had no idea that I would be sharing lunch with a princess and meeting a sultan.  I was scheduled to hitch a ride to Cirebon at around 8 am.  As we wait for the ‘good car’ to arrive, we pass time by drinking sweet coffee.  At around the 10 o clock the car arrived and we all piled in. The availability of the ‘good car’ is put to good use, and there is no spare seat.  In Cirebon my guide meets me for the day, A Beng, who arrives on a motorcycle. First stop is a local arts school and photography gallery.  As heavy rain washes the streets clean, we drink sweet tea and discuss art. 

At this stage I am somewhat confused as to what is exactly planned for the rest of the day, and just who is taking me where.  After a few days in Java now I am adjusting to the local time concept and just go with the flow.  The rain finally stops and the ‘good car’ has come back to take us to Kanoman palace.  My guide, A Beng, obviously has some good local connections as we where greeted by Princess Kanoman and her family, who invite us to share lunch.  Over a feast of coffee, rice, tofu and buffalo skin she explained to me the family history of the palace.  I was invited to inspect the palace’s historic collection.  As we approached the collection hall we where greeted by Sultan Kanoman X|| himself; he was selling the tickets to the museum!

My trip back to Jatiwangi was a great tag team effort; a motorcycle ride to the bus stop where I was shoved into a large air-conditioned bus, and at the appropriate stop I was called out by the minder on the bus, and waiting at the stop was a motor scooter to complete my home journey. Sweet coffee and discussions awaited me!  
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Adventures in analogue (1970's London)

My archiving has now extended to older film based analogue photos.  I love the brilliant Kodachrome colours and the softness of the images courtesy of a cheap German viewfinder 35 mm camera.  This photos of Piccadilly Circus and the red London Bus were taken in 1978 on my first solo adventure and it marked the beginning of a lifelong lust for travel and photography.  It was also the first time that I had used 35 mm film a big step up from my previous 110 cartridge film.  Looking at the photos now I also realise that I unconsciously was drawn to street photography.  When I got back from this trip I started to save up for my first SLR.

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Heading down the highway.

I am down in the south coast of NSW Australia, looking after my mother who is recovering from surgery. As I travel about 300 km every day to visit her in hospital I am observing the local reality.

The highway is frequented by log trucks and camper-vans, the local towns are full of men with beards, women in track suits pushing prams, shops which offer farming equipment and tie dyed goods, followed by local service clubs offering Australian and Chinese meals with instant bingo satisfaction. Driving in this monotonous landscape, I feel like I am in a Steve Earl song where I just want to get away from it all.

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All things change, and we change with them.

This project explores the changing space of the urban environment in Chinese cities. The photographs investigate the role of memory, culture and personal space as part of a person’s identity.  China’s current urban expansion offers an ideal opportunity to document the destruction and rebuilding of old and new memories.   I started this series of images in Beijing prior to the 2008 Olympics and continued in Shanghai, preceding the World Expo.   

In both cities large urban living spaces were eradicated and replaced by modern housing blocks, roads or commercial spaces.  In the process, thousands of people were relocated from their traditional dwellings into mostly high-rise buildings.  This action not only changes the living space for the mostly poor inhabitants, but it also irreversibly changes the culture of this urban landscape.  In the build-up to the Shanghai World Expo it is estimated that 20,000 people have been relocated to make room for new development. 

In other parts of China the situation is no different, where redevelopment plans run into billions of dollars.  According to the International Herald Tribune (29 April 2010)  A single city, Chongquin, plans to invest 1 trillion renminbi or 146.4 billion USD in 323 redevelopment projects in the next few years.

My photos explore what has been left behind. This includes images of old buildings that still bear witness to their former life, people living in a state of flux and objects that contain cultural and personal memories.

'All things change, and we change with them.' Chinese proverb

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I AM

Every year for the past six years Morgan and I have been visiting the primary school students at HFS in Ulsan South Korea to run art and storytelling workshops.  This year the students are exploring issues of identity through stories and art works which are  text based.  I have shown the students artists that have used text in their art making,including traditional Asian calligraphy, graffiti art and modern artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat, Cy Twombly and Colin McCahon.  The students have taken to this challenge with great enthusiasm and have created some wonderful and thoughtful works.  I am looking forward to the final outcome of this project and the exhibition of all art works on Friday at the school.

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I dwell in the green mountain

Yesterday was a wonderful clear, but cold spring day in Switzerland.  I took the opportunity and went on a five hour hike.  Armed with my new camera, I  sought to capture the emotion of the day. 

You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain;
I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care.
As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown,
I have a world apart that is not among men. 
Li Bai (701 - 762)

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Endure the moment

On my recent trip to China I collected images for my current art project which examines issues of personal reality, space and emotions.  As I explored some of the back streets in Shanghai I became a witness to the power of progress, destruction and human endurance, all of which evoked a range of emotions.  While in Shanghai I was lucky enough to visit the MARC RIBOUD exhibition : THE INSTINCTIVE MOMENT, A Retrospective in China, at the Shanghai Art Museum.  The works on show inspired me to focus closer on the moment and the emotions that can be found within that reality.

"Taking pictures is savoring life intensely, every hundredth of a second." Marc Riboud

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Wanderlust

I am struggling with my wanderlust!  I have now been back from my last trip for two weeks and the first few days are always the hardest for me. It is as if my body is waiting to catch up with my spirit.  Mind you it has been a good year for my wanderlust with visits to International Schools in Japan, Korea and several European countries.  It has been a rewarding experience to share stories and art projects, together with my partner storyteller M.S. Blackrose, with many students and see the inspiring final works that they have produced.  I can't imagine doing anything else but traveling and sharing art and stories, it is what makes the world  a rewarding place to be in.  Having now come back to Australia for another hot summer I am already looking forward to next year's travel. In the meantime, I am curing my wanderlust with some highlights of this year's journeys. 

“When a traveler returneth home, let him not leave the countries where he hath traveled altogether behind him.” -Francis Bacon

all photos © R.W. Schatz

Amsterdam-red

 

Bus-stop

 

Brussels-istanbul

 

Dragon

 

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Ulsan-shop

 

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0snow

 

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