Kadek Krishna Adidharma is a Bali Based environmental engineer, cultural liaison and intepreter.

Features Walking home My name Art Photos Family Friends The Quiet Spaces Between By Kadek Krishna Adidharma When we met, I sensed a kindred spirit in Sujena. As he showed me his paintings, I recognized something primal in his imagery of raindrops, solitary leaves, tall trees and rough-hewn triangles heralding a profound awe of the holy mountain. The simple shapes are rich with texture embedded with ancient scripts and symbols. Despite its contemporary appeal, I find his work arrestingly familiar with my vision of the Bali of old. The artist is quick to point out that there is no political message in his work of the past one-and-a-half years that make up his Songs of Solitude. “All I wanted to do was to voice the song in my heart,” he kept telling me. Reminiscent of the Moai stone figures of Easter Island, Sujena’s figures also have the evocative simplicity of the primitive figures I used to find carved out of wood or fern-tree-bark in ancient mountain temples of my childhood. The culture and religion of Bali is multifaceted, varied and layered, with no distinct boundary between culture and religion. It varies from village to village and is the product of millennia of evolution. There are still traces back to megalithic times, when awe of the dynamic forces of nature entwined with ancestor worship. Seeded with Hindu and Buddhist philosophies that entered the archipelago during the heyday of spiritual, intellectual and physical trade between China and India, the resulting mélange of beliefs that give Bali its orientation is unique. Primitive pieces of ‘temporary art’ made from whatever materials locally available have become a rarity. Perhaps they belonged to the days when the layperson still had ample time on their hands and still dared to donate art to their temples instead of hiring artisans. For greater longevity, sandstone, faux mud-brick and concrete seem to have taken over, and the style has become more ornate, more reflecting palace architecture than that of the original temples. It’s refreshing to rediscover these guardians of my childhood mountain temple pilgrimages appearing on Sujena’s canvas. While his ancestry also heralds from the mountain slopes, he is unaware of their personal significance to me. The days of discovering distinct architectural motifs across Bali are nearly over since the difficulties of materials transportation have been overcome. Even renovations at Pura Puncak Penulisan north of Kintamani, for instance, and the remote temples up the slope of Mount Abang, now use materials from afar. At those two temples, intricate gargoyle-like concrete or sandstone statues have replaced the fern-tree figures Sujena’s color combinations are timid and careful but effective. ‘Mother with two children’ shows two small white figures nestling within the shape of a golden-hued mother bathed in fresh green environs. The gold imparts a regal aura to the mother figure, while her presence within the green inspires calm. ‘Adam & Eve’ on the other hand, is predominantly red. Masculine and feminine outlines with barely discernible Balinese script labels of ‘Adam’ and ‘Hawa’ (the Indonesian word for Eve) are separated by a red leaf that blends into the background. The figures are demarcated by a thick outline that defines the separate identities within the unity of red. Is delineating boundaries of identity necessary for peace in the battle of the sexes? Growing up in the agrarian region of Bangli, within the neighborhood of Bali’s one and only hospital for the mentally ill, Sujena traveled to complete his studies in art at Yogyakarta, where he chose to continue to live the life of a struggling artist. At the time, he considered Yogyakarta to be more nurturing for the ideas he was developing for his art. “In terms of exploration, I prefer Yogyakarta – almost every kilometer along the road in the community I lived in I would find an artist friend who I could talk to about art. Who can I speak to about art in Bangli? I have to travel to Sukawati and Ubud if I want to have a decent conversation on contemporary art.” Koman Wahyu Suteja tells me he felt eager to display these works because he finds a rare quality in them that Sujena has achieved – something few Balinese artists have managed to do. He has refrained from reproducing mainstream Balinese imagery; the classical motifs so strongly ingrained into the psyche of every Balinese. On Sujena’s canvas, there is no Rangda or Barong, no Kris jagged daggers, dancers or terraced ricefields. There are no Patra or Boma patterns. His art heralds a departure from these traditional surrounds. With tortured slashes, jabs and scrapes he builds towards an imagery of the ideal state of mind that he strives for. The resultant layers of laboured symbols and the juxtaposition of harsh and soft techniques sit surprisingly at ease together. Sujena is an artist who works on an empty canvas with no preconception of the end product. His art is a process of unravelling emotions. The objects found upon his canvas are icons selected through this journey. In seeking a new vantage point from which to see his environs, he has rediscovered symbols that depict Bali’s ‘life philosophy’. Sujena returned to his ancestral home in order to go back into his self. Forced to uproot from Yogyakarta by the July 2006 earthquake, he instead found a restlessness that greeted him day by day. Uncomfortable with his dependence to his extended family, dissatisfied with domestic issues while facing financial pressures, he found that his work soon became a kind of self-therapy. Not familiar with meditation techniques, he chose to paint the Buddha as his meditation. Upon the canvas he provided space for a flower, his symbol of purity. A leaf is his symbol of peace, of the coolness one would feel under the canopy of a mountain forest. In the heat of an anxious moment, he would paint a leaf to refresh his mind. Symbols have enormous power that few understand fully, despite their wide use and recurring presence around us. In cultures where learning is experiential, the way we develop meaning, make predictions and apprehend the world is through the rich world of symbols. The layperson grasps these intuitively. Only initiates, so Bali’s law of Ajawera says, are allowed to unveil and investigate this intuitive world of meaning. The Balinese are brought up with a versatile framework of philosophy and not a dogmatic worldview. Their ‘life philosophy’ is absorbed through child’s play, entertainment, drama, communal ritual as well as formal education at school. At the core of it all is a sense of awe and gratitude to the universe. It is this sense of awe that I find in Sujena’s works of art. Between anxiety attacks, he would find brief calm: quiet spaces of solitude filled with golden silence. It is to this tune that he would like his heart to sing, manifesting as strokes of fresh green and white, the occasional strong black or red, and accents of gold. Still, like most of us, every day Sujena would have bouts of negative energy expressed in his feelings, emotions and thoughts. He chooses not to dwell on these because he believes that if we all harboured such dark thoughts, the world would be a terrible place. Sujena himself is always surprised with the art that manifests upon his canvas. While his grandfather took to woodcarving as a craft to supplement the family income, Sujena paints everyday to keep his sanity. Upon his canvas Sujena has poured his tortuous journey in search of equilibrium and the sense of peace that he has found. I am glad to have glimpsed this calm through the windows of his work, reminding me of the words of the Buddha: “Peace comes from within.” ~ Writen for Songs of Solitude Sujena's Solo Exhibition at Komaneka Fine Art Gallery , Ubud, Bali

Features Walking home My name Art Photos Family Friends

The Quiet Spaces Between

By Kadek Krishna Adidharma

When we met, I sensed a kindred spirit in Sujena. As he showed me his paintings, I recognized something primal in his imagery of raindrops, solitary leaves, tall trees and rough-hewn triangles heralding a profound awe of the holy mountain. The simple shapes are rich with texture embedded with ancient scripts and symbols. Despite its contemporary appeal, I find his work arrestingly familiar with my vision of the Bali of old.

The artist is quick to point out that there is no political message in his work of the past one-and-a-half years that make up his Songs of Solitude. “All I wanted to do was to voice the song in my heart,” he kept telling me.

Reminiscent of the Moai stone figures of Easter Island, Sujena’s figures also have the evocative simplicity of the primitive figures I used to find carved out of wood or fern-tree-bark in ancient mountain temples of my childhood.

The culture and religion of Bali is multifaceted, varied and layered, with no distinct boundary between culture and religion. It varies from village to village and is the product of millennia of evolution. There are still traces back to megalithic times, when awe of the dynamic forces of nature entwined with ancestor worship. Seeded with Hindu and Buddhist philosophies that entered the archipelago during the heyday of spiritual, intellectual and physical trade between China and India, the resulting mélange of beliefs that give Bali its orientation is unique.

Primitive pieces of ‘temporary art’ made from whatever materials locally available have become a rarity. Perhaps they belonged to the days when the layperson still had ample time on their hands and still dared to donate art to their temples instead of hiring artisans. For greater longevity, sandstone, faux mud-brick and concrete seem to have taken over, and the style has become more ornate, more reflecting palace architecture than that of the original temples.

It’s refreshing to rediscover these guardians of my childhood mountain temple pilgrimages appearing on Sujena’s canvas. While his ancestry also heralds from the mountain slopes, he is unaware of their personal significance to me.

The days of discovering distinct architectural motifs across Bali are nearly over since the difficulties of materials transportation have been overcome. Even renovations at Pura Puncak Penulisan north of Kintamani, for instance, and the remote temples up the slope of Mount Abang, now use materials from afar. At those two temples, intricate gargoyle-like concrete or sandstone statues have replaced the fern-tree figures

Sujena’s color combinations are timid and careful but effective. ‘Mother with two children’ shows two small white figures nestling within the shape of a golden-hued mother bathed in fresh green environs. The gold imparts a regal aura to the mother figure, while her presence within the green inspires calm.

‘Adam & Eve’ on the other hand, is predominantly red. Masculine and feminine outlines with barely discernible Balinese script labels of ‘Adam’ and ‘Hawa’ (the Indonesian word for Eve) are separated by a red leaf that blends into the background. The figures are demarcated by a thick outline that defines the separate identities within the unity of red. Is delineating boundaries of identity necessary for peace in the battle of the sexes?

Growing up in the agrarian region of Bangli, within the neighborhood of Bali’s one and only hospital for the mentally ill, Sujena traveled to complete his studies in art at Yogyakarta, where he chose to continue to live the life of a struggling artist. At the time, he considered Yogyakarta to be more nurturing for the ideas he was developing for his art.

“In terms of exploration, I prefer Yogyakarta – almost every kilometer along the road in the community I lived in I would find an artist friend who I could talk to about art. Who can I speak to about art in Bangli? I have to travel to Sukawati and Ubud if I want to have a decent conversation on contemporary art.”

Koman Wahyu Suteja tells me he felt eager to display these works because he finds a rare quality in them that Sujena has achieved – something few Balinese artists have managed to do. He has refrained from reproducing mainstream Balinese imagery; the classical motifs so strongly ingrained into the psyche of every Balinese. On Sujena’s canvas, there is no Rangda or Barong, no Kris jagged daggers, dancers or terraced ricefields. There are no Patra or Boma patterns. His art heralds a departure from these traditional surrounds.

With tortured slashes, jabs and scrapes he builds towards an imagery of the ideal state of mind that he strives for. The resultant layers of laboured symbols and the juxtaposition of harsh and soft techniques sit surprisingly at ease together.

Sujena is an artist who works on an empty canvas with no preconception of the end product. His art is a process of unravelling emotions. The objects found upon his canvas are icons selected through this journey. In seeking a new vantage point from which to see his environs, he has rediscovered symbols that depict Bali’s ‘life philosophy’.

Sujena returned to his ancestral home in order to go back into his self. Forced to uproot from Yogyakarta by the July 2006 earthquake, he instead found a restlessness that greeted him day by day. Uncomfortable with his dependence to his extended family, dissatisfied with domestic issues while facing financial pressures, he found that his work soon became a kind of self-therapy. Not familiar with meditation techniques, he chose to paint the Buddha as his meditation. Upon the canvas he provided space for a flower, his symbol of purity. A leaf is his symbol of peace, of the coolness one would feel under the canopy of a mountain forest. In the heat of an anxious moment, he would paint a leaf to refresh his mind.

Symbols have enormous power that few understand fully, despite their wide use and recurring presence around us. In cultures where learning is experiential, the way we develop meaning, make predictions and apprehend the world is through the rich world of symbols. The layperson grasps these intuitively. Only initiates, so Bali’s law of Ajawera says, are allowed to unveil and investigate this intuitive world of meaning.

The Balinese are brought up with a versatile framework of philosophy and not a dogmatic worldview. Their ‘life philosophy’ is absorbed through child’s play, entertainment, drama, communal ritual as well as formal education at school. At the core of it all is a sense of awe and gratitude to the universe.

It is this sense of awe that I find in Sujena’s works of art.

Between anxiety attacks, he would find brief calm: quiet spaces of solitude filled with golden silence. It is to this tune that he would like his heart to sing, manifesting as strokes of fresh green and white, the occasional strong black or red, and accents of gold.

Still, like most of us, every day Sujena would have bouts of negative energy expressed in his feelings, emotions and thoughts. He chooses not to dwell on these because he believes that if we all harboured such dark thoughts, the world would be a terrible place.

Sujena himself is always surprised with the art that manifests upon his canvas. While his grandfather took to woodcarving as a craft to supplement the family income, Sujena paints everyday to keep his sanity.

Upon his canvas Sujena has poured his tortuous journey in search of equilibrium and the sense of peace that he has found. I am glad to have glimpsed this calm through the windows of his work, reminding me of the words of the Buddha: “Peace comes from within.”

Writen for Songs of Solitude
Sujena's Solo Exhibition
at Komaneka Fine Art Gallery , Ubud, Bali