Video, Digital Prints and Paintings by Krisna Murti
at Gaya Art Space, Jl. Raya Sayan, Ubud. Tel: 979253
Krisna Murti, in his installation ‘Forbidden Zone’, showing at the Gaya Art Space, uses Video, Digital Prints and Acrylic Paintings to make a smoothly integrated collection of images, which make pertinent comments about the past and present visual representations in culture, and particularly in art, of the Indonesian landscape. However, to comprehend the repercussions of these images it is vital to understand a little of Krisna Murti’s background.
Born in 1957, Murti was educated at the Faculty of Art and Design in the Bandung Institute of Technology (ITB) from 1976 to 1981. His first notable video, photography and painting installations appeared as early as 1993. But, given the suppression of political commentary and the lack of freedom of expression during the 31 year Soeharto regime, Murti’s political expressions were consequently restrained. With the fall of Soeharto, in 1998, Murti was able to emerge as a political Indonesian artist. Since then he has traveled extensively, participating in many international art exhibitions, and as a result he now tries to widen his own view of his homeland, and its visual representations, through his knowledge of Western cultural conventions.
In ‘Forbidden Zone’, Krisna Murti questions the artistic traditions passed down by the Dutch colonial painters and teachers. “When I was a student I completed two years of studying landscape painting. I realized that the system of education at ITB was a legacy from the Dutch. The Dutch Gaze influenced my understanding of perspective, proportion and color, etc, etc. In actuality, my instructors at the time never questioned identity or reality in Indonesian painting. Therefore, I had no choice but to employ the Dutch discourse”. According to Murti, the influential genre of late 18th century European picturesque landscape painting, seen through what he terms, “the lens of the Dutch Gaze”, persisted in art education throughout Soeharto’s era, and still continues to influence Indonesian contemporary art and culture. ‘Forbidden Zone’ also, in particular, questions the necessary role of tourism in Indonesia’s economy, and how the exploitation of a ‘Tropical Paradise Colonial Myth’, in the depiction of the Indonesian landscape, is perpetuated.
Starting with the video presentation ‘Airplane’, Murti shows ‘real time’ sequences of a beach which move through sunset, twilight and evening. However, like invading ‘alien’ predators, airplanes can be seen landing at Denpasar’s airport, bringing with them the tourists and the money which, in Murti’s opinion, can only corrupt the idyllic beauty of the island. The framing and composition of the video image creates something like a ‘moving canvas’, and this simple video becomes the keystone of the installation. Indicating the themes which are to emerge in the exhibition.
Filter effects, like those found in the computer software program ‘Adobe Photoshop’ are utilized in the Digital Print ‘Colloseum’. Here, a section of landscape, featuring Bali’s famous terraced rice paddies, is ‘mirrored’ through a vertical axis on itself. The manipulated photograph conjures up thoughts of ancient Roman Ruins, and shows how Western sensibilities can be imposed onto the interpretation of the Balinese landscape. Further Digital Prints in the marvelous ‘The Glare’ series use the same filter effect, but, in these images the perfection of the Balinese rice terraces is disturbed by the reflection of mirrors, positioned to capture the powerful rays of the sun. At the heart of these photographs is a confrontation between the Balinese rice farmers, whose livelihoods centre around the rice crop, and intrusive tourists, whether they be Westerners or Asians, who are only concerned with capturing the beauty of the Balinese landscape on film, while contributing nothing to the land or those who labor it. The farmers install mirrors in their fields to spoil the tourists’ photographs, in an act of silent protest. Murti underscores this act of non-violent defiance, and observes the empowerment of the Balinese farmers.
Even though it is not necessary, in paintings such as ‘Dawnscape 1’ and ‘The Beach 2’, Krisna Murti shows his technical mastery of the unstated political and aesthetic aims of ‘The Dutch Gaze’, as applied to the historic Indonesian landscape. These paintings are works of tranquility and reflection, and reveal an affection for the Indonesian landscape. The paintings are infused with a delicate translucent light and stillness which evokes an infinite air of peace. Yet, as the paintings continue, in works such as ‘Amlapura, Semarapura’ and ‘Do Not Over Take’, strange road signs, and traffic signals, begin to appear in the uniquely poetic canvases. In these unpopulated and isolated landscapes the signs seem to direct and indicate to tourists, and perhaps to present and past Indonesian artists, where they are permitted to go, and what they should be observing and capturing with video, film or paint. It is like a powerful unseen force is supervising, monitoring, and controlling everyone’s movements. Finally, in the canvas ‘Runway’, a large Zebra-like pedestrian crossing bars any further progression. It is as if the Zebra crossing is indicating an area where tourists and artists must not venture. A secret ‘Forbidden Zone’.
Though easily understood, ‘Forbidden Zone’ functions as a superbly integrated work. The installation highlights and questions colonial distortions, as well as those perpetuated by the Indonesian intelligentsia and educational system. Krisna Murti’s ironic and subversive observations provoke the viewer to question the reality and truth of the Indonesian landscape tradition, in a very elegant and non-confrontational manner.
