#HBDKakDira

From left to right, up and down:

Nino, Masta, Niken

Eringga, Giri, Lolik

Della, Bila, Audi, me

Acil, Cici

Kak Dira Gusta is my senior announcer in JogjaFamily Radio, who mentors us high school announcers in the radio's teenage segment, Zona Pelajar. She is getting her birthday today, January 24th, 2013. As she is having her vacation today, I collaborate with my friend, Christy Priskila, to gather the photographs of those who ever joined and currently in the Zona Pelajar. The segment have been lasted for two years and have been passed through three generations! I joined the segment at 2011, the second generation, and now become the oldest to still airing. So certainly some of us had graduated last year, but it is totally delighting to know that they were still eager to send their pictures!

Kak Dira have been a great mentor for us. For me personally, I could not imagine what will I be know if she did not choose me to be a high school announcer two years ago. The times in JogjaFamily under her nurturing taught me to be strong-willed, ontime, confident, and respect others. I have a very good time there, meet many people, yet learn so many life values. I was very lucky to know her; I think I would never be able to thank her enough for good things in Zona Pelajar!

So, happy birthday, Kak Dira! Know that me and my friends, your 'children', loves you very much. May God light your path and by your side in every step.

Lots, lots, and lots of love,

Akib Aryou.

Visualisasi Batik.

Apa yang ada di benak ketika mendengar kata 'batik'?

Saya sendiri akan langsung teringat kepada almarhumah eyang putri saya. Beliau lahir pada kurun waktu 1920-an, berasal dari keluarga Jawa yang sangat kental -- sebuah background yang membuat beliau sangat dekat dengan batik. Semasa beliau hidup, beliau selalu berbusana tradisional Jawa: sanggul, kebaya, kemben, dan jarik. Tidak pernah sekalipun beliau tidak menggunakan kain batik; dan tidak pernah sama sekali beliau berbusana modern, sekadar daster sekalipun. Batik adalah napas hidup beliau.

Kemudian beliau meninggal empat tahun silam, meninggalkan berlembar-lembar jarik. Saya dahulu adalah seorang Westerner sejati: tidak pernah tertarik kepada budaya sendiri dan selalu berkiblat kepada Inggris, kepada Amerika. Jarik-jarik eyang putri membukakan mata terhadap fakta bahwa saya memiliki komoditas budaya yang begitu kaya. Dimulailah usaha saya untuk merevitalisasi budaya berbatik eyang putri.

Masalah muncul di sini. Meskipun saya telah belajar untuk lebih sering mengenakan kain batik; lebih sering menjajaki berbagai toko batik; dan merasa bangga tiap berpakaian Jawa komplet dengan surjan dan jariknya; selalu terasa ada yang kurang. Saya merasa, saya tidak bisa mengenakan batik seperti eyang putri mengenakannya.

Mengapa? Dengan sedih, saya menyadari, bahwa itu bukan karena saya tidak akrab dengan batik; namun karena saya tidak mengenalinya.

Literally, saya akrab dengan batik. Bersama eyang putri saya, saya tumbuh dengan kain tersebut. Semasa kecil saya ditimang dengan jarik yang diikatkan ke tiang-tiang beranda. Ketika eyang putri susah memakai kemben, saya turut membantu beliau untuk berpakaian. Sarung saya selalu dari batik sejak kecil. Dari TK, seragam sekolah saya pasti ada yang berbahan kain tradisonal tersebut. 

Tetapi, sebatas itulah batik bagi saya: sepotong kain. Saya tidak bisa menghargai batik lebih dari sehelai material yang nantinya dipotong dan dijahit untuk membuat penampilan lebih menarik. Padahal, seharusnya batik bukan sekadar benang dan malam.

Saya terpaku kepada visualisasi batik sebagai sebuah kain. Ini bukan hanya masalah saya dan batik; tetapi juga masalah generasi kita dengan budaya. Kita tumbuh bersama televisi dan internet, dua media yang menawarkan hiburan berpenampilan menarik namun miskin substansi. Kita terpaku kepada tampilan luar, tetapi tidak menilik isinya. We learn to take things for granted. Tertarik kepada sesuatu apabila menarik; membiarkannya lewat ketika basi. Seperti iklan komersial televisi: dibiarkan lalu lalang, namun tidak diperhatikan sepenuhnya.

Malang bagi batik, ia tampak sebagai sehelai kain; maka sebatas itulah penghargaan kita. Ketika gembar-gembor revitalisasi berbatik bergema, kita buru-buru menginvasi toko-toko batik dan ramai-ramai mengenakannya. Namun, semua hanya formalitas, karena sebatas itulah ketertarikan kita akan batik: sekadar kain. Tak ubahnya seakan Bedaya cuma tarian dari Jawa dan Borobudur hanyalah batu yang disusun monumental.

Kita lupa untuk melihat substansi yang lebih penting dari berbagai hal yang tampak. Dalam masalah batik, kita bahkan tidak tertarik untuk menghayati bahwa batik bukan sekadar batik. Ada proses panjang di balik pembuatannya, bagaimana para pembatik menghabiskan waktu mereka untuk menatah kain dengan canting; berlelah-lelah menghadapi pengapnya udara akibat malam yang dilelehkan, dengan tekun mengecap dan melukis. Kita ogah memaknai batik-batik tua -- berapa tahun sudah mereka diciptakan; makna apa yang dikatakan oleh motif-motifnya; siapa yang pernah mengenakan mereka; sejarah apa yang mungkin sudah melibatkan sepotong kain tua tersebut.

Batik bukan sekadar batik. Mulai dari bahan hingga motifnya adalah hasil budaya leluhur kita yang sudah dipertimbangkan maknanya sedemikian rupa. 

Namun, kita tidak tertarik untuk memahaminya dan berkeras menghargai warisan tersebut sebatas materialnya: kain. Sikap kita terhadap batik, sekali lagi, sama seperti terhadap iklan di televisi: kita menerima batik sebagai bagian hidup kita, namun tidak mengapresiasinya dengan benar. Memperlakukannya sama seperti katun dan satin hanya karena ia terlihat sebagai kain.

Pola pikir kita sudah terbentuk sedemikian rupa sehingga kita, mungkin, tidak akan bisa berbatik seperti nenek saya mengenakannya. Kita mengenakan batik hanya sebagai kain penutup tubuh. Namun, nenek saya telah belajar untuk menghayati batik sehingga persepsinya menolak memperlakukan kain tersebut seperti tampilannya. Bagi nenek saya, batik bukan sekadar kain, namun bentuk fisik dari abstraksi adiluhung pemikiran leluhurnya yang sarat akan keagungan. Begitulah, sehingga ketika saya mengenakan batik, sebatas kain-lah batik akan tampak; namun, ketika nenek saya yang berbatik, tampaklah batik sebagai karya seni kuno yang begitu sakralnya.

Terlihat sepele, namun efeknya berkepanjangan. Jangan bertanya apabila di kemudian hari batik akan berlalu begitu saja dari pandangan kita. Bukankah seperti itu kita memperlakukan batik? Bukan sebagai khazanah yang harus dijunjung; namun sebagai kain yang boleh dibuang ketika menjadi gombal.

Lagi-lagi, seperti iklan komersial televisi. Semua karena kita terperangkap visualisasi batik sebagai kain.

Percuma saja upaya berbagai pihak menghidupkan batik kalau sudah begini. Suatu ketika saya mengunjungi sebuah butik batik di Solo. Saya kagum, bagaimana butik itu bisa menghayati kerumitan batik tulis dan mem-fusi-kannya dengan pakaian modern. Saya juga pernah berselancar di internet, mendapati tumbuhnya bisnis toko batik online. Usaha-usaha revitalisasi batik seperti ini akan mati apabila batik tidak dihargai dengan benar, karena orang akan membiarkannya berlalu ketika batik tidak lagi dianggap populer.

Kita harus berhenti terpaku kepada visualisasi dan menghargai substansi. Budaya di sekitar kita mungkin mengajarkan hal sebalilknya; namun, kita bisa melawan. Kita bisa belajar untuk merasakan, tiap kali kita mengenakan batik, bahwa yang membalut tubuh kita bukan sekadar kain berlukis malam; tetapi, sebuah mahakarya yang dipilin dari berjemari-jemari orang.

Sehingga, ketika kita mengenakan kain tersebut, akan ada penghargaan lebih kepada benda yang tengah membalut tubuh kita. Bukan hanya sebatas sebagai kain. 

Karena batik bukan sekadar batik.

~

2012.

I have so much to say for 2012.

As I look back, it had been one of the best year I have ever had. I had gone through a lot of moral transformation. There were so many events that taught me of how to be a full grown gentleman. I learned of patience; determination, focus, and hardwork; of love, loyalty, friendship. I found my true passion in 2012. I had made my decisions for my future. I found the true meaning of loving, and to be loved by so many people around me. In the end of the year, finally, God -- in His mysterious, illogical way of work -- remind me one single thing: that my family is the most precious thing I could ever ask for.

***

I became the chief director of school drama, Antigone. Talking about the performance would need more than just a post as this is the most important performance I have ever had. It summed up all the knowledge that I have learned for years in Jubah Macan theatre. Personally, without trying to put my friends' hardwork in vain, I finally got a chance to prove myself and to present my artistic visions, as more of an artist and less as a high school student.

More than that, the process of Antigone helped to found my true friends. My yearmates, the Padmanaba 68, and junios, the Padmanaba 69, had given me so much support, love, and even loyalty more than I could ever imagined. I would never made it without their help. There were so much love that them guys gave to me, even though I am a demanding person; and when my juniors called me 'Father' as an honourable nickname... I almost teared. I could not tell you, too, how it felt when the show was over and I looked at my yearmates' faces. It was our last show; a sad fact that probably most of us would never joined any show again in the future. Risa, who had been my working partner since we joined the theatre, hugged me in tears. I was, too, and we all were, as we were brokenhearted; yet relieved that finally, our last performance was done well.

It is not in my rights to give the final judgement. But without decreasing our respect to the audience; at the time, compliments nor critics didn't matter anymore. In the end, it was our show. I am totally blessed to be a part of it and to be given a chance to be its director.

At the end of the performance, joined the crowd of crews and casts

***

I became the class chief of my school's orientation for freshmen. It such an honour to be accepted as the committee; I think the best part is that I could know my juniors more, Padmanaba 69, and the new Padmanaba 70. I also joined a kind of pageant contest, here I will not talk about it.

The thing is, these things are almost a test for me. Being suddenly known by many people gave that certain stress, probably regarding my position which pressured to be good and all. I constantly felt that everyone put their eyes on me. For that, I have to keep behaving well and controlled. It was difficult as I always been an impulsive and spontaneous person. I never really cared of people's reaction to me; but then, I have stay cool everytime.

It was like, Gosh, now I know what Lindsay Lohan feels. I would not give any name for this phenomenon as I do not like any popular for this. But truly, to be on the map is a damn tough deal. Popularity, fame, celebrity, whatever you called it -- takes a lot to sacrifice and mostly, you will not like it. Being perfect everyday is exhausting as sometimes you just want to lose your head  Honestly, perfection is my obsession; but pressured to be perfect is a whole different thing.

Even until this very second, I still feel that pressure. It doesn't mean that I don't like the deal of being able to know a lot of people. But a test has to be done and I will do the deed. For good or for worst, I am totally grateful to God that he let me know the complexity of being known, so I can cope better in the coming years. At least, I understand -- and thank God I finally understand -- that shallow popularity is not a good thing; and that I will never ever chase any of it in the future.

***

And... I had an accident in late November.

I will not tell you about the accident as that is a kind of private story of mine and not for public. But I will tell you its effects. When I was in the hospital and my parents came... Surely it reminded me something that I had forgotten.

My relationship with my parents was very complicated in lately. High school taught me of freedom and independence: two concepts that I never really understand before. I have always been a spoiled brat. I lives such a comfortable life: my family never moved from our house even since I was born; my parents taught me well that so far I studied in one of the best schools in our town; and they take care of me well, very well, that they always have time to send me my lunch every school break, until today.

The sole reason of why my parents do that for me was because they loved me. But I must admit this, that sometimes I misunderstand their intentions and thus saw many of their actions as 'over-protecting'. When I was in the tenth and eleventh grade, I saw my friends seemed to be much more independent than I do. They drive themselves to the school, they join extracurricular things until late at night... Seemed to me that they were free.

Then, I rebelled. I struggled for myself. Trying to be objective in this case, I earned many good things for the struggle. My parents gave me my rights to decide my own life: they allowed me to take the Social subject in the eleventh grade, becoming the director of Antigone, to drive by myself, to come home late... I have my freedom. A pure, limitless freedom, where my parents let me do things that I want and not just thing that I have to do.

But I have to say that it also has a negative side. My relationship with my parents were strained. We had so many arguments about so many things. Yes, they said nothing and let me free; but sometimes, it was not because they agree with me; it was because they can do nothing. I have grown and they understand my needs as a teenager. But mostly they did not agree and I struggled... And we argued, too often, that silently, we both realized that I slowly parting away from them, and though it hurts a lot, none of us did anything because we thought it was how things should have happened...

Then I had an accident, and it was when I saw my parents came to the hospital, that I felt like God slapped me right in my face. I had an argument with my parents before the accident, but still, they came to me. I knew right away that it was because they loves me. I am their son and I always will be. No matter what things that I had done, they will always love, like they have done for eighteen years and they will still do until their death.
That night, God reminded me of how bad I had been as a son. God knows, we all knows, that it was for good; but yes, it costs something, and He made the accident to stop me taking more than what my parents and I have.

Since then, I tried to change. I try to love my family more... Love them better.  I am not telling you how because it is not something that you can tell about; is not something you can describe with words... My parents had given me my freedom, my independence; it is the time to pay back with responsibility. I do not regret any struggle that I did; it was necessary for a boy like me. But to other teenagers, who is also struggling for their independence from their parents, please remember one thing: that  one day, when you have achieved you independence, you have to prove that you deserve that and show your responsibility by loving them back, because they will always do.

***

As I looked back, many other events had happened in 2012, but maybe those three are what I will recount in my grey days.  Being an eighteen years old boy is tougher than I ever thought as it is the time that people will start looking at you as a grown up. I am reading Les Miserablés currently and -- along with the events I had gone through -- made me come to an understanding. I am not a boy anymore; I am a young man, taking my first steps for my older days. Every step have to be calculated well as it will affect more people. A fault and your future crumbles; a wise decision and the ladder goes higher.

I can only hope for 2013 to be wiser and better; to make less bad effects and create more good outcomes. May God be with me, and with us, in leading our actions to good.

Family Portrait | Taken September 2012

Art (Without) Politics.

First of all, I did not speak as a member of any educational institution here. This article was written down based on my concern as a single person and an art devotee. The cause of this article was a Twitwar incident happened in the evening of January 2nd, 2013.

The Twitwar was between by two state senior high schools in Jogjakarta city, let’s call them School A and Schol B. Both will hold an art appreciaton event, an event which was pioneered by school A. The Twitwar started when School B promoted their newly-made art event. A student of school B satired school A's event; school A reacts harshly and stating their originality.

Here I want to mention a mural I saw on another art event, the Indonesian Comic Festival, held at Jogja National Museum, that I visited in the late December. The mural write a sentence that instantly catched my eye. It wrote, "No politic allowed in this place."

I love the words because I think it summed up everything about art. Art is not about power, control, or political agenda. Art is simply about beauty and joy; about appreciating the beauty and come in its joy. That is why true art differs from propaganda. The true agenda of art is only about spreading beauty and nothing about gaining control over anything.

In the 2012 conference of Federation of Asian Cultural Promotion, the artists agreed that no art may contain any political agenda. Art is regarded as a universal language that may not be used to promote certain political ideology. This had been the consensus for at least Asian artist -- and a spirit that the earlier mural embraced.

Thus, the Twitwar was totally ironic. Both events stand for the apprecation of art, but they compete each other in an unhealthy way. They compete each other in the matter of promotion and gaining audience -- but in this case, both had also lost their focus in the essence of art. Art is about togetherness, where people blend together under the concept of beauty without considering any political, gender, religious labels. The Twitwar was an irony as it actually torn people apart.

Yes, indeed I am a student in the School B. But yes, I am a big fan of School A's art event. I was totally amazed by their bravery to hold such event for high school student audience, at the time when such event was not so popular. But they kept it going on and I must say that it still rocks. As a pioneer, they totally nailed it.

So it made me totally deplored of the way some people treat others in the twitwar. Satiring others is not a good promotion. It is a sad and shameful act of arrogance. Whether it is the newbie gloating their arrogance nor the pioneer insisting their superiority, such tweets only show how unprofessional the tweeps are. Compete well, but compete good. We don't need any other Twitwar as we can compete professionally.

I have tried to be objective and label myself only as an art devotee in this post. I did not carry any agenda to put any institution first. This solely my opinion and did not purposedly reflect the perspective of any institution that I joined in. 

I can only say that both event will put their differences aside and put their likeness first. Both events are forms of art appreciation which, though stand individually, have the same purpose. In the end, it is all about being unite in art and embracing beauty together; without any label, without politics.

Goodluck to Delayota Art. Goodluck to Padmanaba DedicArt. With all my respect and support.