Or, the years of living with no one to blame

Tintin Wulia

Train (Tintin Wulia, 2007), detail from Have a Cup of Tea/Meet My Dead Grandfather (Gyora Glupczynski/Tintin Wulia, 2007), webpage, flash animation and digital print. Various dimension (browser-dependant) and 6x6 grid of A4-sized type C print

The discrepancies between the personal and the political have been central to my practice as an artist. I think this is because I was born and bred in a Chinese-Balinese family that survived 1965. Recounting the past ten years of my artistic research, in this essay I will illustrate how I have found the experiences which accompanied the regime change of 1998 to be complementary to the traumatic events and mass killings of alleged communists in 1965. I have also found that reflecting on 1965 can help us re-contextualise the newly revived ‘Chinese-Indonesian’ identity within ‘Indonesian’ identity. This is because we can see the experiences of 1965 as a common ground shared by many ‘Chinese’ and ‘non-Chinese’ Indonesians.

Late night with Yanto

As part of an exhibition in late January 2008 in Yogyakarta, I painted my Great Wallpaper series (2008), a set of watercolour murals of my family’s legal documents. For technical reasons, I had to work late nights. One night, Yanto (not his real name), the new nightguard at the gallery, insisted on helping me. At one point he suddenly asked whom the legal documents belonged to. Happy to come across a conversation piece with him, I explained how the documents traced my family’s endeavours as Chinese-Indonesians to fit in with Indonesia’s socio-political changes. I described some of the many regulations which discriminated against Chinese-Indonesians, taking an as example the decree number 127/U/Kep/12/1966, which suggested Chinese-Indonesians should change their names and adopt ‘Indonesian’-sounding names to accelerate assimilation.

Installation view of Great Wallpaper No. 12/2602 (Tintin Wulia, 2008), watercolour mural, wall height    Sari Handayani

Installation view of Great Wallpaper No. 470/I/Sbki/67 (Tintin Wulia, 2008), watercolour mural, wall height    Sari Handayani

Frankly, I imagined Yanto would not understand. Superficially speaking, class and ethnicity considered, our lives were a world apart. I anticipated a pause leading up to silence, in which I would reflect on whether – as an artist – I will ever make any difference. Contrary to my presumption, however, Yanto continued talking, describing his own experiences with bureaucracy, particularly regarding his late father’s name change and birth certificates.

Gradually, Yanto disclosed that his father was an accused communist. In 1965, the administrator of his father’s village was ordered to list the names of 25 communist party members in his village. Frightened to hand in a blank list, but knowing too little about the communist party, he randomly selected 25 names. Years later, Yanto was denied a high school scholarship he was very much dependent on, because his father’s name was listed.

The event took away Yanto’s simple dream to be a civil servant, a profession he thought would break him free from poverty. He was infuriated, but did not know at whom he should direct his anger. He believed it was Suharto who took his dream away, but he was too fearful to be angry at Suharto.

How 1998 sparked questions about 1965

My first short film, Violence Against Fruits (2000), was about the May 1998 riots. During these riots, which preceded the resignation of President Suharto, many rioters targeted Chinese-Indonesians, especially in Jakarta and Solo. Playing around the ambiguity surrounding the riots, this intuitive piece was based on the memory of feelings rather than of facts. The piece shows a Diospyros Kaki (Japanese Persimmon) being chopped and finally eaten, with text describing the history of the fruit (including how Diospyros Kaki originated in China but is popularly misunderstood as coming from Japan). This visual is accompanied by soundtrack of dialogue between a male and female about the reasons people do not eat dogs, going through possibilities such as dogs being humans’ best friends and dogs being capable of fighting back. In this short film, the feeling of being a victimised Chinese-Indonesian was prominent.

I grew up with that feeling of being victimised and was taught it was better not to question it. The reason was never clear to me, but I suspect it was because my family had a big secret: my grandfather was taken away in 1965. As part of this unquestioning attitude, I subconsciously accepted that I was born a guilty Chinese, perhaps a communist’s granddaughter, therefore deserving the discrimination.

I grew up with these memories, of which the most subtle yet perhaps strongest was the memory of fear

My family never talked much about 1965, but I knew that their house was looted and burnt down. I was born seven years later and therefore had no memory of the facts. Yet however well the facts were hidden, the memory of feelings kept lingering within my family. I grew up with these memories, of which the most subtle yet perhaps strongest was the memory of fear.

Ketok (2002), another of my short films, was intended to, amongst other things, poke fun at the then popular horror TV series in Indonesia. The film was an amusing hit amongst my Indonesian audience. However, a few non-Indonesian viewers asked whether the events of September 1965 were behind the light-hearted story. Apparently, in making the film I utilised the language of horror I was most acquainted with, the core of which might have originated in 1965.

Growing up with the memory of feelings but without a memory of the facts was comparable to growing up injured without knowing where the wound was, and how it happened. Under such circumstances, it was almost impossible to revisit the source of the injury to take steps towards healing it. The Jakarta riots of May 1998 enabled me to connect this memory of feelings with some possibilities of facts. I thought perhaps what happened to many families in 1998 was similar to what happened to my family in 1965.