Saturday, April 26, 2008

The Woodcarver's Legacy


The July day was uncomfortably warm, and we were after something we could do to take us out of the sun's glare. What could be better, we wondered, than a spacious art gallery, full of shady nooks, cool file, and interesting work? But, which one? After a quick consultation with ourtrusty guide bock and a map, we made our decision to visit the Njana Tilem Gallery, on JI. Raya Mas, in Mas. We didn't have much information. The guide bock briefly noted that Ida Bagus Tilem, son of famed woodcarver Ida Bagus Njana, was legendary, widely regarded as the best wood sculptor of all time. Tilem was chosen to represent Indonesia at the New York World V Fair in 1964, a tremendous honor. It also said Tilem died in 1993 of a massive stroke, at the age of fifty- seven.

We read about how his family and students; still keep his gallery and workshop open in order to carry on his tradition of carving, even beyond his lifetime. The bock's brief summary of Tilem's contribution to the Balinese art and history of woodcarving intrigued us, and roused our curiosity We were eager to see his work. At the Njana Tilem gallery entrance, staff members greeted us with smiles and courtesy. They noted my camera and politely informed us the taking of photographs was not permitted anywhere on the gallery premises. They told us we could stay for as long as we liked, and we could walk freely through the many gallery rooms, but we were not to take pictures or make drawings of any kind. We agreed to obey the rules, and we were welcomed inside. A slender young man rose from a chair behind the door and introduced him- self. He informed us he was a student woodcarver, an apprentice in the workshop. He said he would be happy to act as our escort and guide if we liked, at no charge. We accepted his; offer and were on our way, glad to have someone with us who could answer our questions, and maybe help, us learn something about Balinese woodcarving. We soon discovered the "gallery" was actually"', composed of a series of large, airy rooms filled with flowers and greenery, spread out across two floors. The rooms were breathtakingly beautiful.

Everywhere our eyes rested, there were ebony, teak, hibiscus, sawo, and jackfruit sculptures - each one more exquisitely carved than the next. l was frankly amazed to think a single man, even one as supremely gifted as Ida Bagus Tilem, could have had such a remarkable output of work in one Lifetime. l said as much to our Guide. He replied with a smile that the carvings were not all personally carved by Tilem. He said that many of the pieces, especially those for sale in the gallery, were the work of Tilem's many students. Ida Bagus Tilem, he said, was a caring teacher who helped his students grow to their full potential as artists. He habitually taught the apprentices to be patient with the wood as they worked. He wanted them to carefully and meticulously draw out the shapes and images with their hands and tools, using their inner awareness of the wood's properties, rather than brute
.force Tilem always stressed the importance: of focusing on the act of carving, rather than the rewards and praise that might come of it. Hundreds of woodcarvers apprenticed them-selves to Tilem over the years, and under his tutelage, many have become masters in their own right. Today, the student woodcarvers in the workshops study under Tilem's former students. Our guide said that as a young man, Tilem faced the vexing problem of limited finances, and he had a hard struggle at times to live Ok and raise his family while he loamed his craft.

As a direct result of that early Privation, once Tilem's gallery flourished, he generously arranged to provide even the poorest students with both materials and tools, and a place in his shop to sell their work. "These very works all around you, in all these rooms," the guide said. 1 asked how to tell which carvings were by which artist, and he laughed, waved his arm toward in a sweeping gesture and said, It does not matter, does it? They are all Tilem's, are they not?" He went on, "However, l think you will know which ones Tilem carved with his own hands. They are the very best. You will see." We saw an entire room filled with wooden sculptures based on the Ramayana stories, depicting familiar tales from Hindu mythology. In one corner, tall and graceful Ramas, bows drawn as steely-eyed, they hunted down the Golden Deer. In another corner, monkey generals offered small golden rings to gorgeous Sitars as pledges of her consort's true love. There were fierce battle scenes carved from enormous blocks of wood in which armed and grim Ramas and Rawanas crashed through the heavens crossing weapons. The expressions on the faces, the jewels in the armor, the flowering buds crushed under the hooves of the warriors' steeds - all of it incredible, all of it coaxed from the wood by the artist's imagination and skill. Passing to the next room, we saw life-sized teak carvings of farmers cutting rice in the fields, daubs of wooden mud carved onto their sinewy arms and ankles. Crouching sawo wood men pitted their fighting cocks in battle, holding the carved baskets high above the ground. Each raised cock feather was as finely carved as a filament. Whip-thin ebony fishermen cast their sweeping nets across flowing rivers. Tamarind dancing girls, their arms and faces and legs

smooth, hips and breasts gently swelling, smiled suggestively as they invited onlookers to their dances. In all the carvings, from the largest to the smallest, we saw always the hint of an invitation to join whatever activity the sculptor rendered. The next room was smaller, filled to bursting with fish, frogs, and birds of every size and description, covering every available surface. These carvings were so delicate and realistic, executed with such extraordinary detail, we would not have been surprised to see them leap about, swim, or fly away In this room, our guide constantly encouraged us to pick things up, touch them, turn them in our hands. He wanted us to feel the warmth and weight of the wood.

He wanted us to appreciate the magic of Tilem's genius. We were completely unprepared for the surprise that awaited us in the largest chamber on the upper floor of the gallery. In this room were sculptures that had to be seen to be believed, carvings certain to be coveted by woodcarving connoisseurs and international collectors. Here, a herd of deer, dozens of the little Balinese Kidjang, bounding through the air in graceful arching leaps across a rampaging river. All in teak, the size of a small truck. There, two enormous stallions, rearing in a fight over a mare grazing nearby. The stallions' hair was etched to follow the lines of muscle, tendon, and bone. All in jackfruit wood, larger than life. Given the precision of the etching, l thought the tool of choice was likely to have been a surgeon's scalpel, rather than a chisel or woodcutter's saw.
Just beyond, in the final room we toured, l saw a full-length, life-size carving of a young woman raising her arms, her sarong loosened and falling away, her face an image of ecstasy, As l stood contemplating that graceful hibiscus girl, l was suddenly gripped by a sadness l could not name. Not far away from the lovely dancer we saw two rough blocks of ebony and mahogany sitting in the corner, each lock crudely marked with crayon. The wood blocks still showed traces of the saws and axes that cut them from the

living trees.l asked our guide what these blocks of wood were for, and why they were sitting in the display room. l thought perhaps some wood intended for the workshops was brought by delivery men through the wrong door and inadvertently left behind.

l could not have been more wrong. Our young guide reverently explained these rough blocks were the last pieces of wood Tilem touched with his hands - he was preparing to work with this wood, right before his untimely death. l was not able to tell by looking at the crayon marks what Tilem may have been thinking as he touched, turned, and evaluated those blocks. He saw something nobody else would or could see, and as a gesture of respect, his family and his students maintained that wood in the came state it existed on the day he died. l could now name my sadness. l felt a keen sense of loss, knowing Tilem's bands would never again take up a chisel. Tilem's hands would never again shape a piece of wood into something magical, mythical, or mundane. As l looked at the rough wood blocks, l was reminded that a woodcarver's work should serve as an extension of nature, as a way of enhancing man's communication with the

natural elements of his world. A woodcarver must learn to synthesize his humanity with the natural world in order to achieve true artistic expression. A woodcarver must love the uncarved wood as much as, or maybe even more than, the finished piece. A woodcarver understands there is always the promise of tomorrow in the unfinished wood blocks. This was something Tilem understood. In the Mahabharata, there is a lengthy passage describing Yudishtira's initial encounter with his father, the god Dharma. Yudishtira was dying of thirst as he stumbled across a broad, clear lake. Dharma disguised himself in the form of the lake spirit, and as a test of worth, commanded Yudishtira to answer some questions before slaking his intense thirst. The spirit told Yudishtira he would be struck dead if he tried to drink before answering, or if he answered any of the questions incorrectly. Although parched, his tongue swollen, his lips cracked arid bleeding, Yudishtira managed to correctly answer all of his inquisitor's questions.
miracle of all?" Yudishtira considered the question carefully, then replied, It is this. All over the world, every day, thousands of men's lives end.

And every man in the world awakens in the morning and thinks to himself, today, l will not die." The god, well pleased by his son's answer, revealed himself in his true form, and invited Yudishtira to drink from the lake. Ida Bagus Tilem believed in that greatest miracle, too. He woke every day and worked with the wood, right up until the day he died. The finished carvings remain with us as testimony to his genius. Tilem's own work, and the work of his students, represent the triumph of his will and imagination over the limitations of his body, and the limitations of time. Perhaps the images he was preparing are still inside the wood. One day, perhaps someone whose vision is as clear and whose talent is as great as Tilem's will lay hands on that wood, and the figures will emerge. Those uncut blocks await the loving chisel held by an inspired artist's hand. As we thanked our guide and then stepped out once more onto the sunlit bustle of traffic and pedestrians on JI. Raya Mas, l was thinking about the student woodcarvers sitting quiet and cross-legged in the workshops, shaving, cutting, carving, and dreaming about what was inside the wood they touched. l was thinking about those students, about how their work was truly a celebration of their creativity, and a tribute to Ida Bagus Tilem. In that moment, l understood the woodcarver's true legacyThe final question the disguised god asked of his son was the most important. It was, "Yudishtira, what is the greatest

Marsha L. Browne