In his works, Radi presents five of such pesugihan supernatural creatures: babi ngepet, jaran panoleh (a horse whose head is invariably turned backward), nyupang ketek (a kind of monkey), bajul putih (a white crocodile), and ngipri ular (a creature that resembles a snake). Perhaps most audience will not be immediately aware that these are pesugihan supernatural creatures. One of the reasons might be because they appear cute, looking like cartoon characters, cheerful and in bright colors. In general, people usually think of such pesugihan creatures as fearful beings, whether or not people actually believe that these creatures exist. The pesugihan creatures exist in the realm of dark myth in the Javanese culture, residing on the frontier realm between the reality and imaginary. One thing is clear, however: these creatures exude the aura of fearsome black magic, believed to be related to the selling out of one’s soul to the dark forces. There is thus the assumption that the theme of pesugihan theme should actually be present in certain eerie atmosphere, just like the cheap horror films in Indonesia. However, Radi Arwinda is acutely aware that the strength of his works lies in the opposite direction, or in their flat and superficial aura. The method that Radi employs makes his works special.

Radi Arwinda is known for his tendency to take on subject matters from the realm of popular art—subject matters that admittedly many other young artists often choose to deal with. His ability to combine his subject matters with local issues and traditional art, however, makes Radi’s works quite distinctive. In this exhibition, Radi has successfully managed to fuse aspects of Japanese popular art with the traditional art—especially that of Cirebon. The two worlds have indeed been familiar to him ever since he was a child.

As we observe Radi Arwinda’s works, works by Murakami or those by the lowbrow artists will inevitably come to mind. With the style and theme originating from the realms of popular and traditional arts, Radi Arwinda’s works betray strong lowbrow atmosphere. Although he does not reject this notion outright, Radi does not actually agree if one categorizes his works as lowbrow art, as he does not think that his works have as their basis a certain movement like the lowbrow movement. According to Radi, his works are representatives of his personal experience and interest in the subject matters that have been familiar to him since he was a little boy; i.e. those of manga and anime (or Japanese-style comics and animation works), as well as of the traditional art of Cirebon. Radi, however, is aware of the fact that his works are present in the realm of high art, or should be read according to the terms of the high art. One can thus say that Radi works within the frame of the high art, but with subject matters and themes taken from the popular and traditional arts, and therefore does not reveal any “rebellious” spirit against the fine art paradigms—although it is possible that he presents some shrewd perceptions about them. Of course, there is nothing new in the method that Radi Arwinda is employing; international artists such as Andy Warhol, as well as the artists that Warhol influenced—such as Murakami and Jeff Koon—have also employed such strategy.

One cannot deny the fact that Radi Arwinda’s works show the influence of works by Murakami. Radi admits that he has been much influenced by Murakami. In reality, there is no contemporary artist who has not been influenced by aesthetic creeds or tendencies of previous artists—just as Murakami himself has been influenced by Andy Warhol. Although there are certain “similarities”, the influenced artists will always try to find their own distinct characters. Murakami, for example, goes all the way and produces his works of art and merchandise—without differentiating one from the other—through his company, Kaikai Kiki Co., Ltd. While Andy Warhol merely called his studio “factory”, Murakami truly built a factory, producing his works of art as well as commercial products. Unlike Warhol who blurred the boundary between high art and low art with casual and random statements, Murakami affirms the indeterminate boundaries between high art and low art by means of his theoretical expositions published in books and catalogues. Apart from it, Murakami often presents talks about the popular art within the framework of Japanese and American cultures. This is all understandable as Murakami holds a PhD in art. The concept of superflat is one of Murakami’s ideas as well as the underlying concept for his works. All of these aspects as a whole serve to separate Murakami from the other artists who also deal with the popular art and culture. By employing such strategy, Murakami is able to co-opt simultaneously the high art, popular art, and fashion, mixing them as he wishes. Murakami explains:

“Superflat is a tactical domination device operated by its designer as a means for taking over/making over what provincial insiders still insist on calling the ‘art world’ (as if it were a medieval guild) at the moment when that ‘world’ is being redimensionalized and reterritorialized by the uber-IED known as globalization.”

Essentially, the superflat concept refers to the contemporary Japanese culture that is homogeneous, empty, and flat. Murakami thinks that superflat also applies to the popular art and the inundation of images in the superficial and meaningless contemporary culture. As an art concept, Murakami’s superflat brings to the fore the problems of the otaku community, or the marginalized subculture in the contemporary Japanese culture. Members of this otaku community are the losers of the society who find refuge in the fantasy world constructed through their penchant for manga, anime, and science fictions. Murakami makes use of the visual language of these otakus, employing manga and anime as his aesthetic creeds, because it is there the superflat concept is particularly relevant. In other words, the superflat concept also tries to explore the anxieties among the marginalized and defeated youth.

Using the superflat concept as his basis, it is easy for Murakami to employ his aesthetic language, whether in the realm of high or popular art. Murakami therefore does away with the boundary between his works of art and his merchandises that are more commercial in nature. Murakami believes that high art and popular art both reside in the commercial realm, and for him they are all the same. He is, however, not against the high art; neither does he belittle popular art. Rather, he comfortably comes in and out the two realms. Many art observers are therefore of the opinion that Murakami’s concepts, works, and artistic stance are representative of the symptoms of the culture industry, which is highly commercialized, capitalistic, and artificial. In this context, Radi Arwinda’s second solo exhibition, titled “Sugih” (Javanese for “rich”) is highly relevant and interesting.

Radi Arwinda’s early works reveal stronger link to the local, traditional styles of Indonesia, or specifically to the styles from the wayang world. However, in his first solo exhibition, ©Apet, held last year, Radi Arwinda’s works show strong influence from the manga world. The use of the copyright sign © could also be found in Murakami’s exhibition at MOCA Los Angeles, ©Murakami. Such act of appropriation betrays Radi’s awareness about the importance of branding in contemporary art, as illustrated by Murakami. The copyright symbol also shows his awareness—as well as criticism—that at the end of the day, a work of art is also a commodity. Following Murakami’s examples, Radi Arwinda also presents several commodities or commercial objects in this exhibition, such as bags, couches, and watches. It is not clear whether they are actually representative of Radi’s efforts to criticize Murakami, or are they Radi’s adoptions of Murakami’s works, further affirming the Japanese artist’s concept about the blurring boundaries between high art, popular art, and fashion.

One can also view the © symbol as Radi’s self critique toward the world of high art—which is also his world. In fact, in the contemporary art, the artist’s existence and success are also molded by branding, constructed through the market and art discourses. One can say that there is actually no difference between the branding in the world of art and that in the commercial world. In the exhibition in “Pop Life: Art in a Material World” (Tate Modern, October 1, 2009 – January 17, 2010), presenting the superstars in the international world of pop art, the press release for the exhibition explains:

“Pop Life: Art in a Material World” argues that Warhol’s most radical lesson is reflected in the work of artists of subsequent generations who, rather than simply representing or commenting upon our mass media culture, have infiltrated the publicity machine and the marketplace as a deliberate strategy. Harnessing the power of the celebrity system and expanding their reach beyond the art world and into the wider world of commerce, these artists exploit channels that engage audiences both inside and outside the gallery. The conflation of culture and commerce is typically seen as a betrayal of the values associated with modern art; this exhibition contends that, for many artists working after Warhol, to cross this line is to engage with modern life on its own terms.”

The Instant and Sugih Culture

One often hears the notion that the contemporary culture is rife with consumptiveness, consumerism, and commercialism, and is therefore superficial and instantaneous. To be rich, therefore, is to gain “respect”. The contemporary human is one constantly encouraged to consume—use all that is not actually required. “I Shop Therefore I Am” is the phrase used by the feminist artist Barbara Kruger. In the rich and developed countries, products of popular art are cheap. As a form of lifestyle, the cost to maintain the subcultures or youth cultures can be covered quite cheaply. That is why it has not been difficult for the Japanese otaku to supplement their flight with aspects of manga and anime. Naturally, however, the youth lifestyle everywhere can still be costly, especially when it comes to lifestyle with branded products, or the high-class lifestyle, which naturally requires a lot of money.

The problem arises when the drive to consume does not even up the capitals owned. This is especially true for developing countries, where the lifestyle that actually originated from the subculture is not necessarily cheap. The price of a pair of sneakers with some international brand, for example, is a lot more expensive in Indonesia relative to the general cost of living in the country, and naturally only the upper class youth would be able to buy these shoes or a good quality skate board. Similarly, original Japanese and American comic books are too costly for most youngsters, even ones from the middle class families.

It is often said that malls in Indonesia are no less luxurious compared to malls in developed countries. Gradually, Indonesia has become a highly materialistic and consumptive nation, and this development occurs with nothing to balance it out. In big cities in developed countries, one would not only see malls, but also splendid museums and libraries. Art museums keep on springing up in big cities in developed countries, while it is always the malls that we see on all strategic corners of Indonesian big cities. This is obvious in Bandung, the city where Radi resides. To be instantly rich and to consume all these instant products with the global “taste” seems to be the message conveyed in the proliferation of malls.

To be rich, by any means possible, is to gain respect—perhaps that is the most spot-on message conveyed through Radi Arwinda’s works in this exhibition. The visual presentation of each one of Radi’s works strongly conveys this. The aspect of celebration, pleasure, superficiality, and flatness are evident in Radi’s works, as if they are yelling out: “Let’s get rich, by any means!” Another message that we can sense from Radi’s works is that the desire to get rich quickly has always been human nature. The theme of “sugih”—or rich in Javanese—is closely related to the myth of “pesugihan”, or the way to get rich with supernatural help. In the traditional communities, and even today in the grass root communities in the metropolitan enclaves, there has been the belief in the practice of pesugihan, or the way to get rich by transforming oneself into supernatural beings, or using the assistance of supernatural creatures. Indonesians are familiar with the myth of babi ngepet (when a person transforms him or herself into a boar in order to steal something) and tuyul (supernatural creature resembling a bald little boy with the task of stealing for his master).

In his works, Radi presents five of such pesugihan supernatural creatures: babi ngepet, jaran panoleh (a horse whose head is invariably turned backward), nyupang ketek (a kind of monkey), bajul putih (a white crocodile), and ngipri ular (a creature that resembles a snake). Perhaps most audience will not be immediately aware that these are pesugihan supernatural creatures. One of the reasons might be because they appear cute, looking like cartoon characters, cheerful and in bright colors. In general, people usually think of such pesugihan creatures as fearful beings, whether or not people actually believe that these creatures exist. The pesugihan creatures exist in the realm of dark myth in the Javanese culture, residing on the frontier realm between the reality and imaginary. One thing is clear, however: these creatures exude the aura of fearsome black magic, believed to be related to the selling out of one’s soul to the dark forces. There is thus the assumption that the theme of pesugihan theme should actually be present in certain eerie atmosphere, just like the cheap horror films in Indonesia. However, Radi Arwinda is acutely aware that the strength of his works lies in the opposite direction, or in their flat and superficial aura. The method that Radi employs makes his works special.

Radi’s works are first of all works made to satisfy Radi’s aesthetic taste and interest in the two opposing tendencies: the Japanese popular art and the traditional art of Cirebon. In other words, Radi truly wants to create a representation of his personal experience of growing up with the two visual identities or characters: those of manga and the traditional Cirebon art. There is no need to doubt Radi’s strong experience with regards to the two cultures. The works in this exhibition show how the hybrid visual presentations are so fluidly conveyed, as if originating from the same gene pool. Upon closer observations, however, one would be aware of the harmonious blending from two different gene pools: those of the Japanese and the Cirebon. Remarkably, in these “sugih” works, the Cirebon genes appear strong.

One can see here Radi’s representation as a cute little boy, whose appearance is an adaptation from chibi anime, or the presentation of a cute boy in exaggerated forms, with a small body, big head, with gleaming round eyes. In Radi’s works, the “small” figures have been depicted to resemble pesugihan animals or creatures such as the boar, monkey, crocodile, horse, and snake—all in the style of cartoon works. Although the heads of such creatures are made to look fierce, because they are presented in bright colors and with cartoon styles, there is no fearsome impression, especially because the heads appear like masks donned by the artist over his chibi face, with an exaggerated pair of glasses. We immediately see something that should have been fearsome, but is in fact funny and cute.

The cute supernatural beings are surrounded by pillars in the style of traditional Cirebon glass paintings, complete with the decorative motives on the upper corners and around. There are of course the targets of such pesugihan creatures: the gold coins. The whole presentation has been inspired by the style of the traditional glass paintings of Cirebon. The pillars seem to affirm that the frame of reference is local, albeit influenced by the Japanese popular art. Radi has successfully brought the manga style into the domestic realm, with the local context and style. This is similar to the discussion regarding the tension between the local and the global; a situation that affects all world cultures. With their flat appearance, Radi’s paintings do not seem to show any expressions; they appear flat, just as Murakami’s superflat concept. This seems to refer to our resistance in the face of cultural changes and the penetration of globalization—with no concerns or awareness regarding the risks.

No matter how flat Radi’s works are, their potentials as shrewd critique remain. We can still perceive the irony, criticism, self-critique, and the allegory in Radi’s works, as well as the paradoxes. By presenting his own identity, Radi is certainly saying that he is not free from the temptations of global consumerism, of fetish allure of the tempting products and objects. Radi’s problems are certainly also our own. One cannot deny the fact that our penchant and fetish for all things Western and Japanese—albeit made mostly in China—are already quite strong. Still, we enjoy it. If we read Radi’s works as works of shrewd criticism, these works are relevant to the weakening conditions of the Indonesian culture today. The appearance of animix style precisely reveals how relaxed we are regarding the worsening cultural positions of the Indonesian nation. Radi’s works are symptomatic of the acute problems of the culture in Indonesia.

This exhibition, with the theme of “sugih” or “rich”, might make us think that to be an artist—successful and with a strong brand—is to be a contemporary pesugihan creature. Note the title of this exhibition: “Radi Arwinda’s Solo Exhibition: Rich”—it seems to hint at the possibility that after this exhibition, Radi would become (even) rich(er). If that is actually the case, then it is a good thing, too, because the pesugihan practice that Radi Arwinda is doing is legitimate, fun, and does not harm anyone. And it is not a problem even if it takes place instantaneously.

Asmudjo Jono Irianto

Exhibition Curator