Beyond My Back Yard

In an earlier entry I suggested that this blog would take you on a cultural tour of the enclave and  explain how things were subtly rearranged to allow for the establishment of an art forum in Borneo. This may have sounded a little strange to some of you and may have come across as an arrogant statement on my part, but if there is one thing I have learnt in the five years since I left the comfortable and care-free existence I was able to afford back home it is that the creative liberty most of us take for granted in the so called western world is far from being global. 




At a time when we are discovering that there are more and more opportunities and tools for us to take control of our careers there are still many places on this small planet of ours where artists must struggle against insurmountable odds to make themselves heard and seen let alone dream of making a living (and is this not, in the end, what we would all aspire to?). 

As an artist living in such a place I could not see myself focusing solely on my own creation - breathing-in inspiration without making some sort of effort to breathe something out that could be of value to those around me. Arrogance, again? Most probably, I won’t even attempt to deny it, but there seemed to be so much that could be done and nobody stepping up to the plate to do it... and oh how I sometimes wished [in quieter moments when I was sitting in my outdoor studio and the immensity of the jungle started to whisper things to me] that I could have returned to being the hermit I used to be and get on with my own work.

But you see I wanted this place to become a part of my life, part of my work. I wished to claim it!  How else could I account for those four years if I had remained in my studio without ever having tried to meet the artists who live here and hope to learn and be inspired by their experience and insights? We artists are builders of bridges [see previous entry]. How could I not grasp this opportunity to build one such bridge? That, I believe, would have indeed been arrogance, to have lived here for so many years, plundered at will the inspiration it could yield and return home with hundreds of paintings and mysterious tales of having lived in the enclave on the island of Borneo without ever having interacted with those who could have afforded me a deeper vision.

And so I decided very early on that I would have to seek out and engage local fellow artists despite the difficulties I knew I would have to face. I will never forget an insight a senior [western] diplomat to the enclave shared with me only days after I had landed, and a couple of others [also mostly western] nodded to in acquiescence [they can be charmingly condescending]: 



'Mr. Cruz, I’m afraid you will find this to be a very dull place. There are no other professional artists, there is not a single art gallery and cultural events are rare and confined to royal ceremonies. You might consider going to Bali, Cambodia or… '



  but I didn’t hear the rest, I was determined to discover things for myself beyond my own new back yard.



I was rewarded for my stubbornness shortly before the New Year. First by the discovery (absolutely buy chance as it was never promoted) of a magnificent exhibition hall at the Arts & Handicraft Centre of the Brunei National Museum and secondly by the announcement of an exhibition of contemporary Bruneian Art to select the representatives to the ASEAN Art Awards to be held in Bali in 2002.
 But then an extra unforeseen difficulty arose out of nowhere, I was white (the orang putih, not to be trusted and a once most cherished trophy amongst the shrunken heads displayed in the vicinity of villages) and I was an infidel (even less to be trusted, a source of contamination and not to be seen with). I visited the show repeatedly but not once did any of the artists I encountered dare speak to me beyond a polite initial greeting. I knew then that I would have to be cautious, utterly sincere and, especially, uncommonly patient and crafty if I wished to break the ice.

Before going on I must add that the intention of the art forum is by no means to disseminate western models of thought, aesthetics or process in a part of the world that is rich enough in tradition and culture to circumvent the morass into which much of western artistic production has fallen (and this is an even greater challenge because, as you will gather from my next entries, the fascination with the west – especially it’s garbage – is tremendous and voracious in appetite). The idea of the forum which was officially launched in January 2004 will, I hope, turn out to be the beginning of something new… at least in the enclave.







A Bridge to Utopia

The purpose of this blog is to describe to you the events that led to the creation of an art forum in the far reaches of Borneo and the resulting increase in artistic activity that has since ensued. Before we go on, however, I would like to share with you a few of the ideas that have occupied my mind for some years now and inevitably found their way into the fundamental structure of the forum and the spirit it wishes to promote.





Consider if you will the following:



Art is nourishment


Art is to be FELT


Art is a religious experience

 



Art is nourishment. It is more than mere food for the soul, however. It is an essential ingredient in the healthy diet of the machine that carries us through life. Art transmits impressions. Our human machine can go on for weeks without solid nutrients, it might last days without liquids, it will hold out for minutes without air but if, for any reason, it were to be deprived of impressions it would not survive beyond seconds.

Impressions abound, they are present all around us - good or bad, impressions nonetheless. Artists absorb these raw impressions and after solving for themselves the questions they give rise to in our Being assimilate them and transform them into more refined impressions we generally refer to as ART. In such a way - transmitting information and a certain type of emotional knowledge - artists contribute to society by enriching it’s culture and the quality of the lives of those who participate in it.

Fortunately we find ourselves in times when public, corporate and private institutions have become increasingly aware of the impact these impressions can have on the productivity and wellbeing of the individual and have started to invest in this ‘software’ of the human machine. However, it is still curious to note that we should find it natural to equip our laptops with the latest gadgetry yet still hesitate when the time comes to upgrade our very own machine.



The question then arises: How do we upgrade the machine. How might we best capture and understand these finer impressions? 



We often worry too much about understanding a work of art [critics confuse us, galleries can sometimes be daunting even for the most weathered artist, the list of things that condition us is endless and very subjective]. Perhaps the reason for this is because we approach it with the wrong apparatus. We seek to find meaning with our minds when the message can only be captured by the heart. And by heart I mean the combined operation of the sensory and emotional apparatus of our human machine. First and foremost a work of art has to be FELT.

Emotion is the necessary filter through which impressions are processed in order to be capable of having any significant impact on the mind. Once absorbed they lead us to new levels of understanding thanks to new connections they help establish between pockets of scattered intellectual knowledge we accumulate and sometimes forget over the years. True understanding is knowledge rooted in deep personal experience.



This, then, leads us to my third point. Namely that Art is indeed – inescapably – a religious exercise and experience.

However, I prefer to use the word freed from the customary discriminating labels we tend to attach to it. Religio is a Latin word that suggests the re-linking of something that has been severed. Art provides a link between the microcosm and the macrocosm; between what we have chosen to see and what we do not yet see; between what we know and what we may still come to know; between what we are and what we can become. Should we venture to travel across these bridges that Art provides, guided by heightened emotion and awareness, our thoughts will become charged with a new kind of energy that will eventually lead to a better understanding of ourselves and others and towards a platform of deeper communication through which men and women might be able to look beyond their specific differences and grasp the essence of one another's being.





Utopia?

Perhaps, but what is Art if not a bridge to utopia...



With these and a few other unorthodox thoughts in mind I set myself the task [utopian at the outset] of, how shall I put it, rearranging things in a country where in spite of immense riches and a general state of well-being artistic activity was at a standstill and where there were no commercial outlets for local artists to promote their work and assume themselves wholeheartedly as such - due in great measure to social and religious conditioning.