A Traditional Balinese Craft Rediscovers Its Roots — in Leaves

June 12, 2020

Photo Essay by AMIT JANCO

If you’ve ever been lucky enough to visit Bali, Indonesia, you might have fond memories of white-sand beaches, ornate temples, and gracious hospitality. But for many Western visitors, the island’s most striking feature is its rich cultural heritage, including its many craft traditions. From the daily religious offerings made of rice, flowers, and banana leaves, to towering lava-stone carvings that take years to complete, Balinese craft-making skills are handed down through generations, creating lasting bonds within the island’s close-knit communities. Over time, though, traditions can shift and change — and not always for the better. Styrofoam and other environmentally unsound materials have replaced the natural materials long-used in some handmade creations, including the famed “Ogoh Ogoh” monsters of Balinese New Year ceremonies. A new wave of artisans is working to turn back the (plastic) tide.

In the weeks leading up to Balinese New Year and Nyepi (the Day of Silence), young men all over the island congregate inside covered pavilions, sketching and assembling larger-than-life, demonic figures called Ogoh Ogoh (from the Balinese term *ogah-ogah*, which means “to shake” or “something that is shaken”). These grotesque-looking, gaudily painted monsters represent dark forces and malevolent spirits of the Hindu animistic underworld that are believed to threaten human life. The day before Nyepi, hundreds of Ogoh Ogoh are displayed across the island, carried aloft in processions, and then twirled about at intersections in order to shake off all vices and devilish inclinations.

Up until this century, traditional Ogoh Ogoh-making relied on materials found in nature. But along with tourism came importation and widespread use of factory-made products. Today, most Ogoh Ogoh are constructed from Styrofoam, plastic, PVC piping, aluminum foil, paper, wood, and paint. After midnight, the giant creatures are ceremoniously — some might say ironically — burned to ensure the destruction of all evil on Earth.

For this year’s Nyepi (celebrated on March 25), at least two ogre-building workshops reclaimed the tradition of using natural materials. Wayan “Apel” Hendrawan, 45, is a Balinese Hindu priest as well as an artisan and painter of some renown. He also battled drug use for years, until incarceration in an asylum returned him to his art and spiritual life. When he first helped fabricate the Ogoh Ogoh for his *banjar* (a formal, self-governing collection of neighbors) in 1989, they were still using bamboo and leaves for construction. Over the years, manufactured materials and new trends took over, and he stepped back from these community endeavors until recently.

This year, with his interest in Ogoh Ogoh reignited, Hendrawan found himself puzzling over how to best use some rattan pieces leftover from a previous art installation. Participating in a ritual trance-dance from East Bali inspired him to experiment: “I try to find the real energy that lies inside the rattan. It comes from my imagination and power of visualization.”

With a finished sketch of Bhanaspati Raja, the mythical king of the jungle, in hand, Hendrawan recruited young men from his village near Sanur to help, and followed their lead. “I’m listening to the youth, who are trying to be more minimalist, creating simpler designs with recycled supplies and a low budget.” He trained them in tying rattan rods, leaving the precision work — sizing, cutting, and fitting — for himself.

The head and face of the Ogoh Ogoh that Hendrawan engineered, shown here in his family’s compound, are molded from newspaper and clay. The floral ornamentations are made of dried banana stem. Every section of rattan has been whittled down, curved, and carefully slotted into crevices. The effect from afar is of a three-dimensional, leaping lion, its animated movement captured in midair.

In the village of Mengwi, once the capital of an ancient Balinese kingdom, another family compound functions as the headquarters of Make a Scene! (MAS!) — a creative partnership between Gus Ari, 41, a Balinese master craftsman, and Chloe Quinn, 29, a stage and costume designer from Bristol, England. Ari learned coconut-leaf weaving at a young age. “I don’t come from the artist’s life,” he says. “What I do is only what we do in our normal lives and for our community, preparing for religious ceremonies.”

Over time, Ari became adept at cutting, carving, and shaping lengthy strands of *slepan* (older, softer coconut leaves). At a certain point, he wondered: “Why don’t we ever use slepan for something unique? Why so much Styrofoam?” Those inquiries set him on a new course, and in 2015, he designed an ornate, decorative entranceway made from coconut leaf for a friend’s wedding. Though he didn’t know it at the time, that creation (and social media) would pave the way for his business collaboration with Quinn, who, enchanted by the photos of his work on Facebook, showed up at Ari’s studio and, effectively, never left.

Leading up to this year’s Nyepi, Ari and Quinn envisioned holding a sustainable Ogoh Ogoh weaving workshop. But the limitations of working with slepan held them back — until they met a bamboo weaver named Udianata. “We’d never done people or other figurative work,” says Quinn, who handles sales and marketing for MAS!, “but that’s Udianata’s specialty.”

Born into a family of artists, Udianata began to study art in high school. While building his first Ogoh Ogoh, he had misgivings, wondering: “Why don’t we finish it by keeping the bamboo on the outside?” He began to scavenge for scraps, experimenting with the bamboo’s softer inner sheaths. As word and photos of his artwork spread, Udianata was commissioned to build a mammoth sculpture for a music festival entirely out of bamboo.

When Ari and Quinn heard of Udianata’s artwork, they sought him out. “We approached him about combining bamboo and slepan weaving for an environmentally sustainable Ogoh Ogoh,” says Quinn. “He said yes!” The bamboo and coconut leaf sections of this ogre were constructed separately. From Udianata’s workshop, Quinn brought back a box with the head, hands, and feet. The proportions were off, so changes had to be made and a new body built. Once the Ogoh Ogoh — anointed Kala Bang, or “power of protection” — was assembled and dried, MAS! workshop participants adorned the biodegradeable, environmentally sustainable demon with freshly cut strands of coconut leaf.

According to the Sanskrit principle of Tri Hita Karana, Balinese Hindus are urged to pursue a life of balance and harmony — between humans and God, among humans themselves, and with the environment. The people of this tropical island are guided by this concept throughout their lives.

Despite the forces of globalization, a return to natural materials for making Ogoh-Ogoh and other offerings, such as this human-like assemblage created as a protective talisman during the pandemic, is testament to the deeply embedded spirituality of Balinese crafts — and craftspeople.

Amit Janco is an author, editor, yoga teacher, and retreat facilitator based in Bali, Indonesia. She has contributed to several publications, including Travel + Leisure, Journeywoman and Inspired Bali.