Home-Design Videos Invade YouTube

In addition to silly clips of family pets, cult-film trailers and practically every music video ever made, YouTube users can now watch a home design show called “Your Place Is a Deal Breaker.” 

In the first episode, a woman moves into her boyfriend’s apartment, which has a Barack Obama poster in the bedroom, and enlists the help of a designer to make the space reflect both their styles. 

“Obama has to go, baby,” she tells him. 

The show is on Spaces, one of the new channels that YouTube has introduced as its push into original content. With a roster of programs — other shows include the self-explanatory “I Live With My Mom” — shown in three- to five-minute episodes, most focus on young urbanites. YouTube is selling ads that will be shown on the channel, with the revenue shared between the site and the content creator. 

Chris Young, the chief executive of DBG, the production company behind Spaces, said the channel plans to upload a new video every day. 

He and co-founder Joseph Gomes, spoke about the challenges of online programming and why they think home design shows will always be popular. 

Is YouTube the TV of tomorrow? 

Gomes: We like the idea of these barriers coming down. In traditional broadcasting, the rules are ensconced. With this, it’s the Wild West. It’s almost like an Oklahoma land grab in terms of getting in there and creating original content. 

Is it hard to produce so much content? 

Gomes: It stretches the production dollar, but we made a conscious decision to have constant programming. We wanted a glut of content to engage the viewer so there was a reason to keep coming back. 

YouTube is also like a vast ocean. I had trouble finding the Spaces channel. How will users find your shows? 

Young: When you go to the home page of YouTube, you’re going to be able to select your favorite channels. Once you select Spaces, your likes and preferences will funnel to you the type of content you’re interested in. 

How is Spaces different from what you’d see on HGTV or other networks? 

Gomes: We wanted to be urban and cosmopolitan. I don’t think that’s necessarily a target for HGTV. They’re more focused on suburban moms. 

But you dabble in mom-centric programming with ‘I Live With My Mom.’ How did you come up with that idea? 

Gomes: It was about finding eccentric characters. One lives with her mom and has dolls everywhere. Another is a hip-hop mogul in his mom’s basement. We wanted a makeover program because I think a lot of people who get into these design shows are in for the display. 

New York Times

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Indonesian Designer to the Stars Offers a Peek Into His ‘Secret Garden

Singer Syahrini, the former duet partner of Anang Hermansyah, stood before her audience at a fashion show in Jakarta, looking dainty in a pink cocktail dress with lace, ribbon and a long train of soft tulle.

“She’s my beautiful princess; she’s my muse,” said Indonesian fashion designer Hengki Kawilarang, who designed the dress and was about to hold his solo show as part of Jakarta Fashion and Food Festival.

Syahrini performed her latest single, “Semua Karena Cinta” (“It’s All Because of Love”), to open the event before stepping off the stage and joining her younger sister in the front row of the audience.

Models then took the spotlight, walking down the catwalk in cocktail dresses, evening wear and bridal gowns inspired by the women in Hengki’s life.

The fashion show, on May 21 at the grand ballroom of Harris Hotel and Conventions in Kelapa Gading, North Jakarta, was themed “Secret Garden.”

“Women are all around me,” Hengki said. “My mother, staff, friends and clients. Each of them are unique and beautiful. Each of them have secrets.”

The designer tried to portray the models as flowers and trees in a garden. “They’re delicate but strong,” he said.

Since establishing his own self-titled label a decade ago, Hengki has specialized in dressing Indonesian celebrities.

“I think it’s a smart business move that brings him more clients,” said Taruna K. Kusmayadi, chairman of the Indonesian Fashion Designers Association (APPMI).

Hengki acknowledged that he has received more clients since helping to craft Syahrini’s stage appearance.

Most of his female clients want to look “just like Syahrini,” he said.

In the first sequence, Hengki presented chic cocktail dresses in neutral colors, simple silhouettes and discrete applications of lace and ribbon. Among them was a two-tiered broken-white cocktail dress that wowed the audience with lace and a silver sash at the waist.

The next sequence oozed with glamour. With a video-art background of falling autumn leaves, the models walked down the catwalk in elaborate evening gowns and equally adorned stilettos.

One model in a long sequined silver dress brought to life the White Queen from “Alice in Wonderland.” Another wore a sea-green gown with feathers, a chain of crystals and bold embroidery. It featured tulle and lace on the bodice, and delicate layers of chiffon and silk satin on the skirt.

“They’re romantic fabrics,” Hengki said. “They hug and caress a woman’s feminine curves.”

Electro-pop girl band 7icons appeared at the end of the sequence, singing the single “Bidadari.” The group, honored by Indonesian music television show “Dahsyat” last year with an award for best performance, wore white short dresses by the designer.

“They should look glamorous, as well as young and fun,” Hengki said.

The final sequence of the show featured bridal gowns that combined Western fashion and the style of kebayas, a traditional Indonesian dress.

“The couples that come to me are usually of mixed races and nationalities,” Hengki said. “So they want an Indonesian taste with an international look.”

The wedding dresses were in classic white and soft pastel colors. Indonesian model Dominique Agisca Diyose looked stunning as she walked the catwalk in a dusty pink dress with silver roses along the bodice and ribbons crisscrossing semi-transparent long sleeves.

When Hengki designs for celebrities, he works with them to come up with something that fits their tastes. “They usually come to me with an idea,” he said.

The celebrities, their managers and Hengki often spend hours discussing the idea, and then Hengki takes a couple days to sketch out some options.

“It’s really important to understand the artist’s public image and be able to present it in an outfit,” he said.

When the designer went on stage with the models at the end, Syahrini congratulated him with a bouquet of lowers.

“Clients are more than customers for me,” Hengki said. “They’re also my friends and my source of inspiration.”

Hengki Kawilarang Boutique 
Jl. Tebet Barat Raya No. 24
South Jakarta
Tel. 021-8301711

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Old Cantonese opera players strive to keep tradition alive

Salim Tan is a 68-year-old Cantonese opera player who has performed for more than 50 years to preserve Chinese cultural heritage. He is aging, but that is no deterrent to keeping his passion for opera performances alive. 

After performing the classic Shi Jin Kwi war epic over the weekend, Salim told The Jakarta Post that he and other players from the Suaka Insan Foundation, social organization ran by Kong Hu Chinese-descendents in Indonesia, could perform a five-hour show. 

“We may look old, but we can handle a five-hour show.”

It is easy for the audience to mistake their age as they use special makeup that makes them look at least 40 years younger. “We can make a 60-year-old man look 20,” Salim said.

Preparing makeup for the Cantonese opera is a long and specialized process. The thick “white and red face” makeup can hide the performers’ ages and at the same time, distinguish their own roles in the play.

Not everyone could apply the Cantonese opera makeup, Salim said. One should properly apply the white foundation and a red color, which determines the character of the show, around the eyes.

The villain usually had more red color in the face, Salim said. 

“In our group, makeup has become my wife’s specialty. The rest of us are better in living the characters rather than applying makeup.”

According to Salim, his group masters dozens of epics, including Kho Han Bun, the popular white snake legend. “We don’t even need a rehearsal. We have memorized all the epics very well,” he said.

Salim’s opera group comprises five to six persons, most of them above the age of 60, who have performed opera for decades.

Salim performed his first epic at the age of 17 in Medan, North Sumatra. “My parents loved this Chinese art. I have known Cantonese opera since I was child,” he said.

The opera is a culture brought by Kong Hu people and is popular in Guangdong, Guangxi, Hongkong and Macau. It involves many Chinese art traditions including acting, singing, martial arts and acrobatics.

Another opera player, Asiak, said that the Cantonese opera taught morals and the goodness of the Kong Hu Cu philosophy, rather than solely acting as entertainment.

Asiak, who has been an opera player since he was 20, said that performing the classic epics refreshed his mind. “I feel young when I am on the stage and performing an epic. Being an opera player always entertains me,” the 78-year-old said.

Asiak said that he did not earn much money from the Cantonese opera performance. The money that his group would spend for a play’s preparation could be higher than the payment. 

“Sometimes we spend up to Rp 10 million (US$1,090) for the costumes, the properties and the makeup while the payment is about Rp 5 to Rp 6 million,” he said.

Asiak admitted that there were not many requests for opera performances. His group usually plays three or four times a year, with most requests coming ahead of the Chinese New Year celebration. 

Asiak said that the group members had chosen different jobs to earn a living.

Asiak was a mandor, a traditional construction supervisor who employed several workers.

Salim said that he ran his small business to cover his daily expenses.

Acknowledging that being an opera player could not satisfy his living expenses, Salim still hoped that more young Chinese would preserve the culture.

“The opera has become one of the oldest Chinese cultures in Indonesia. It deserves more attention from young players,” he said.

Salim said that he would be more than glad to train young players. “I always have courage to train Chinese culture to younger people,” he said.

He said that one should master the Canton Chinese dialect to play in a show. “All stories are always performed in Chinese, its original language,” he said.

Salim said that ideally, the players should also know the traditional musical instruments used in Cantonese opera, including strings and percussion. 

Salim Tan is a 68-year-old Cantonese opera player who has performed for more than 50 years to preserve Chinese cultural heritage. He is aging, but that is no deterrent to keeping his passion for opera performances alive. 

After performing the classic Shi Jin Kwi war epic over the weekend, Salim told The Jakarta Post that he and other players from the Suaka Insan Foundation, social organization ran by Kong Hu Chinese-descendents in Indonesia, could perform a five-hour show. 

“We may look old, but we can handle a five-hour show.”

It is easy for the audience to mistake their age as they use special makeup that makes them look at least 40 years younger. “We can make a 60-year-old man look 20,” Salim said.

Preparing makeup for the Cantonese opera is a long and specialized process. The thick “white and red face” makeup can hide the performers’ ages and at the same time, distinguish their own roles in the play.

Not everyone could apply the Cantonese opera makeup, Salim said. One should properly apply the white foundation and a red color, which determines the character of the show, around the eyes.

The villain usually had more red color in the face, Salim said. 

“In our group, makeup has become my wife’s specialty. The rest of us are better in living the characters rather than applying makeup.”

According to Salim, his group masters dozens of epics, including Kho Han Bun, the popular white snake legend. “We don’t even need a rehearsal. We have memorized all the epics very well,” he said.

Salim’s opera group comprises five to six persons, most of them above the age of 60, who have performed opera for decades.

Salim performed his first epic at the age of 17 in Medan, North Sumatra. “My parents loved this Chinese art. I have known Cantonese opera since I was child,” he said.

The opera is a culture brought by Kong Hu people and is popular in Guangdong, Guangxi, Hongkong and Macau. It involves many Chinese art traditions including acting, singing, martial arts and acrobatics.

Another opera player, Asiak, said that the Cantonese opera taught morals and the goodness of the Kong Hu Cu philosophy, rather than solely acting as entertainment.

Asiak, who has been an opera player since he was 20, said that performing the classic epics refreshed his mind. “I feel young when I am on the stage and performing an epic. Being an opera player always entertains me,” the 78-year-old said.

Asiak said that he did not earn much money from the Cantonese opera performance. The money that his group would spend for a play’s preparation could be higher than the payment. 

“Sometimes we spend up to Rp 10 million (US$1,090) for the costumes, the properties and the makeup while the payment is about Rp 5 to Rp 6 million,” he said.

Asiak admitted that there were not many requests for opera performances. His group usually plays three or four times a year, with most requests coming ahead of the Chinese New Year celebration. 

Asiak said that the group members had chosen different jobs to earn a living.

Asiak was a mandor, a traditional construction supervisor who employed several workers.

Salim said that he ran his small business to cover his daily expenses.

Acknowledging that being an opera player could not satisfy his living expenses, Salim still hoped that more young Chinese would preserve the culture.

“The opera has become one of the oldest Chinese cultures in Indonesia. It deserves more attention from young players,” he said.

Salim said that he would be more than glad to train young players. “I always have courage to train Chinese culture to younger people,” he said.

He said that one should master the Canton Chinese dialect to play in a show. “All stories are always performed in Chinese, its original language,” he said.

Salim said that ideally, the players should also know the traditional musical instruments used in Cantonese opera, including strings and percussion. 

“The musical instrument gives color to every story. It is an important part of a play,” he said.

However, Salim said that the musical groups were rarely found in Jakarta.

“We hardly find music players for the Cantonese opera. That’s why we choose digital instruments,” he said.

Before performing the epic, the players would record their voices based on the script. The players would later combine their voices with the digital musical instruments.

Given all the obstacles the Cantonese opera faced, Salim said that he hoped to introduce it to more people. (lfr) 

“The musical instrument gives color to every story. It is an important part of a play,” he said.

However, Salim said that the musical groups were rarely found in Jakarta.

“We hardly find music players for the Cantonese opera. That’s why we choose digital instruments,” he said.

Before performing the epic, the players would record their voices based on the script. The players would later combine their voices with the digital musical instruments.

Given all the obstacles the Cantonese opera faced, Salim said that he hoped to introduce it to more people. (lfr)

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Raden Saleh’s masterpieces on display at National Gallery

Over 40 paintings and drawings by Raden Saleh, the colorful artist often referred to as the “father of Indonesian modernity” will be displayed in the National Gallery, Jakarta, starting this Sunday amid allegations of widespread forgery of the works of several Indonesian masters.

According to the exhibition’s statement, the exhibition is the first ever monographic display of Raden Saleh’s work in Indonesia. 

The artist was born in Semarang, C. Java, in 1811, when Indonesia was still a colony of the Dutch. He traveled to Europe when he was around 18 years old and spent over 20 years there, training as a painter. 

“There was no other painter in the colony — European or Javanese — who was [Raden Saleh]’s equal. 

He was largely responsible for broad segments of the Javanese elite discovering, during the second half of the 19th-century, that realistic painting … could constitute an aesthetic pleasure. These first small steps marked the start of Indonesian art’s journey towards the vibrant scene it has become today,” Curator Werner Kraus says in his exhibition notes. 

Raden Saleh’s paintings comprise portraits, scenes involving animals, especially lions, and landscapes. One of his famous paintings, depicting the capture of national hero Pangeran Diponegoro, is said to contain hidden nationalistic symbolism. 

The master’s reputation extends beyond that of an acclaimed painter. He was also known as an architect, a landscape gardener and a collector of ethnographic and archaeological documents. 

He was known for his idiosyncratic and somewhat flamboyant fashion style as well, as he was said to design his own costumes, which combined various styles including Javanese and European. Thus, he is sometimes dubbed as Indonesia’s “first fashion designer”.

Despite the substantial time he spent in Europe, Raden Saleh was said to have remained loyal to his roots. He returned to Indonesia —or the Netherlands East Indies as it was known then — and was said to have tried to introduce modernity to various cultural and scientific aspects. However, he became disenchanted with the treatment he received from the colonial powers in his homeland. 

The exhibition, titled “Raden Saleh and the Beginning of Modern Indonesian Painting” is scheduled to run until June 17, and will feature, apart from the original drawings and paintings, the reproduction of works that cannot be brought to Indonesia. 

It will include various events such as a wayang performance on the opening day, a fashion show in which local fashion designers have been invited to participate in a competition with Raden Saleh as its inspiration, and an essay competition, which calls for essays highlighting the artist’s personal and artistic achievements. 

The fashion show is scheduled on June 9 and a discussion about Raden Saleh is scheduled to be held a week later.

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Adventures in the domestic sphere

The domestic realm can be both a labyrinth and treasure chest, although it is at times seen as second best to the outside, which is seen as foreign, exciting and full of lure.

Take for example the emotions and associations that the words “home” or “family” conjure. Even a single object such as an old radio set or a teacup can open the door to hours of nostalgic discussion.

A group of artists took up the challenge of presenting the domestic realm through the medium of visual art in an exhibition entitled “Domestic Stuff”, which is running in Salihara until this Sunday.

Netherlands-born artist Mella Jaarsma, who has been residing in Indonesia since 1986, curated the exhibition and chose seven female artists: Lydiawati Lim, Melati Suryodarmo, Maria Indriasari, Ariani Darmawan, Sekarputri, Restu Ratnaningtyas and Mie Cornoedus to collaborate with other artists as “partners” in creating their works for the project.

Among the artists chosen as partners are Afrizal Malna and Mufty “Amenk” Priyanka.

Jaarsma pointed out during the discussion about the exhibition last month that female artists clustered together in exhibitions often tended to have their work judged on a gender basis, and not in terms of quality.

“We are often dissatisfied because of [that judgement]. Thus, if we only feature female artists, it will not be very interesting. A dialog between two genders was more interesting, so I went from there. The seven female artists looked for dialog partners. They [the partners] didn’t have to be males, but I hoped they were, and the dialogs lead to themes,” Jaarsma said during the discussion on the exhibition.

The dialogs range from the emotions of those who have lost mothers in the home, or the way a household views material possessions, to challenges such as losing out on a social life, or of being a new parents.

“Agung tells of his dream about his mother buying a new set of dining chairs. And coincidentally, I have recently dreamed of my late mother. I saw her cooking an abundance of meat, stacked highly in the kitchen. I didn’t understand the meaning of the dream. What is certain is that I often dream of my mother in the kitchen, and it’s always the same dream, in our first house,” reads the dialog between Retnu Ratnaningtyas and project partner Agung Kurniawan in the exhibition’s book.

What resulted from that dialog is a somewhat surreal depiction of the kitchen, involving drawings of a floating figure enveloped in blanket-like material.

Another piece of art involves what appears to be a baby mobile but includes objects that seemingly correspond not only to a baby’s direct senses but also to more abstract subjects and issues revolving around parenting. One example is a picture of a compass and a disc with names of religions written on it.

Jaarsma cited Austrian Valie Export as one of the early artists who created domestic-themed artwork, in which the latter wrapped her body in a cardboard box and invited people to put their hands through the hole in the box and feel her body.

Art critic Wicaksono Adi, however, said that the objects used in the exhibition did not explore the borders in which the public and private sphere clashes, resulting in chaos.

“Indonesian visual art about the private world is yet to be clearly worked on. I’m yet to see a view on the intimate, private world after 20 years,” he said during the discussion.

Jaarsma pointed out that while visual art might be a more challenging medium through which to convey domestic issues, as compared to other art forms such as literature, which usually have a bigger canvas to depict issues in detail, visual art still gives a chance to viewers to reflect and interpret the work.

Given the spectrum of emotions and personal experiences one has concerning domestic issues, such as child-raising or living within a neighborhood, visiting an exhibition about “Domestic Stuff” might produce interesting insights on one’s own life, or on the world outside.

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The gossamer curtain

The idea of death is promptly buried out of sight in the west, a state of forever gone.

In the east, death is another story entirely. In Bali, it is cremation season, a time to raise loved ones perhaps long dead or recently passed from mossy beds; to wake sleepy spirits in preparation for their last farewells and the coming journey home to the gods.

During the second and third month of the Balinese calendar, communities meet at burial plots and prepare to dig up the bodies of brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers — family members who while perhaps not breathing, are still here in spirit.

There is an extraordinary tenderness in these reunions as skeletons are bathed in perfumed waters, fresh clothing is prepared and fond farewells are made.

“We are sad when we dig our loved ones up for cremation. But we are not scared of the bodies. It feels like we are meeting once again and we don’t cry. It’s not nice to cry, because it tells the souls we are not willing for them to go. We are proud to help them go,” says 51-year-old Wayan Lebih of Banjar Juga in Mas. He says the atmosphere at the exhumations is festive.

“It’s really busy, there are a lot of people. There are children. They are not scared when we dig up the bodies; they come along, it is really busy, it’s like meeting family,” Wayan says.

To lower the risk of disease from recently interred bodies, newly deceased are cremated some weeks ahead of the community cremations called ngaben and their ashes kept safe.

According to Tengkulak Kaja village head, 67-year-old Gusti Made Mawa, decomposing bodies from his village are raised and cremated before dawn by people trained in this difficult task.

“As a community we exhume only long dead bodies that have decayed to their bones. We have special people who take the newly dead from their graves so not everyone sees these — this is to prevent trauma when people might even vomit or become frightened. The bodies are then washed and burned before joining the ngaben ceremony,” Gusti says.

There is great wisdom in Balinese burial practices, besides families having real time to grieve and to meet one last time before the souls depart to the heavens, the reusable family burial plots ensure land space is not lost to the dead.

“In my village, I have a family burial plot. It measures around 12 meters by 3 meters — it has never been full, so there is always space to bury our dead,” says Wayan, pointing out that once a body has been taken from its resting place in the humid earth and cremated, the burial plot becomes usable again.

Over the next few weeks, Wayan and others in his village will spend days preparing for a collective cremation, removing bodies from family burial plots and sending their souls through the smoke to the gods, with their burnt remains tossed into the sea.

“In the past we carried these remains to the rivers that led out to the sea, but now with better transport we take them straight to the beach. We do this so the souls can return to their roots,” says Wayan while explaining that people are made up of four elements: earth, wind, fire and air. Balinese cremation ceremonies ensure all these elements are restored.

To do this demands ceremonies repeated many times. The magnificent mass cremations are like the tip of an iceberg,  more discreet are the daily and weekly rituals for the dead that begin long before the cremation and continue for weeks after, from the calling of the spirits of the dead through the sanggar urip three days ahead of the cremation and the calling on the god of death, Siwa, to release the souls under his care, to the repeated burnings of bones and ash and their return to the sea to be called back again to be burnt following the cremation.

“The sanggar urip ceremony happens three days before cremation. At this time we tell the dead it is time to go, and we ask Siwa to release the souls before cremation so they can return to their roots,” says Wayan, who on Sept. 22 will send his older brother to the heavens, journeying on the smoke and flames of his sarcophagus.

The weeks spent creating offerings, building sarcophagi and taking time off work to give the hours to the community ahead of the collective cremations takes a massive toll on community resources, but it is most often a shared toll, says Wayan.

He earns around Rp 1.3 million (US$150) per month, just enough to keep his family fed, housed and educated; his brother’s cremation will set him back Rp 7 million. If Wayan was going it alone he would be looking at a bill of more than Rp 30 million.

“My brother was a teacher so he received insurance that pays for his cremation. In our community if people don’t have this money we all chip in, because people must be cremated within five years of dying. If not, the spirits start to become agitated and begin disturbing the community.

Readying: Local residents put the finishing touches on weeks of work in preparation for a ngaben or cremation ceremony.At community meetings people start making decisions that not all agree with and there is fighting — so harmony is lost. That is why we have collective funerals every five years, to make sure the ghosts don’t disturb the living,” says Wayan of the gossamer curtain that barely separates the physical and metaphysical worlds in Bali.

In Gusti’s village of Tengkulak Kaja, men are busy decorating sarcophagi shaped like bulls while women create thousands of offerings.

“We hold collective cremations every three years, sometimes more often. If families have mayat [bodies] to cremate they pay Rp 5 million, everyone else in the village donates Rp 250,000, so it’s gotong royong [working together],” says Gusti, who is quick to say, “the payment for a collective funeral is less than the Rp 45 million it would cost for an individual cremation, but the quality is exactly the same so it’s good for the people. Why? Because people pay a little, yet receive high quality because we use gotong royong. 

We feel together; the 500 people in our community are one big family, we share the cost and the emotion,” Gusti says. 

In the background, dozens of women dressed in sarong and kebaya chatter and share stories of loved ones while their hands are busy creating the thousands of banten, or offerings, needed for the collective ngaben.

There is a binding of community spirit in this shared farewell to loved ones that benefits the souls of both the living and the dead.

— Photos By JP/J.B. Djwan

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