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Meet Pablo Gentile. A gutsy American artist who moved to Bali in the 80s to breathe art and live within this island’s culture.

You are known as being one of the successful artists based in Bali appearing in collections worldwide. How did you happen to develop as an artist based here?

Well, I was a student at New York School of Visual Arts and after graduating, I travelled extensively throughout Europe, Africa, the Middle East, the Orient and Southeast Asia. I had been to Bali briefly in 1973 and never really got over it. I always kept sketchbooks and journals. When I returned in the 80’s from a little grass shack on the beach I began developing these ideas into finished works.

Bali has a tradition of attracting foreign artists for over a century. Aside from the obvious exotic beauty, and mystical aspects of an elaborate culture, from an artist’s standpoint a lot of the attraction was the magical golden light it was bathed in. The morning light was golden and thick, the way it filtered in through the foliage was magical. You can feel it in some of the works of Le Mayeur and others painting here around the 1930’s and 40’s. Most of it was focused around Sanur and Ubud.

What is the major difference in working in Bali now as compared to when you returned here in the early 80’s?

The type of traveller has changed since it developed and made the airport international.  Before that it wasn’t so easy getting here and mass tourism was a long way off. There were a lot of interesting people living here in the 70s and early 80s; adventurers, travellers, celebrities, writers, artists, designers, desperadoes, vagabonds, and surfers. For tourists, it was really about cultural tourism, which is still the island’s major attraction and what sets the place apart from the countless island paradises Indonesia has to offer.

It was impossible to be insulated here, you had to eat the local food, and in most cases with your fingers. There were very few places with electricity, no TV, telephones, or air conditioning. Hot water and mosquito nets were considered luxuries, and it was a long way to go for a decent margarita. To set up a studio in Bali, you needed to be prepared to sacrifice many basic comforts and be cut off from the “real world”. Working at night was difficult under dim lights, sporadic and weak electricity, if any, and buzzing mosquitoes.

Getting books was difficult and they were carried in, treasured, read and passed around. Those of us who lived here created everything we needed; our own entertainment; theatrical events were staged, everyone did their part, we had music jams and concerts, we made our own clothes, houses, and everything that went in them. We were interested in the Balinese culture and it was part of our daily lives. Parties were free and open; not a business. The type of traveller has changed. We actually came here to live within the culture. To us the greatest luxury was the simplicity of our lives here within the complexity of an ancient culture.

How does your relationship with the island affect the commissions and works you are able to achieve internationally?

Basically my paintings are the same methods and subject matter I would be doing anywhere. In my heart I’m still an American artist, and I guess that’s my vantage point. Certain major commissions, for example working with Universal Studios, I was able to turn my large-scale drawings into monumental works of stone-carved reliefs. This could never have been possible without the amazing skills of the Balinese craftsmen who have been carving stone throughout generations. The relationship between artist and craftsman in these works involves the carvers following my hand exactly, by carving through the exact scale contour drawings that I make. So the creative stuff never leaves my hands.

Tell me about your current work. What would you say is the feeling and inspiration behind the pieces?

I guess its return to my old graffiti and comic book roots, not really much to do with Bali specifically. I’ve been exhibiting and spending more time in the States lately, and I’m still interested in the idea of mobility through various cultures and philosophies and see my work as a means of understanding how those conditions interrelate. It’s important to recognize our shared past and our relationship to our ancient ancestors. There are various tribal elements that somehow keep jumping in, but there are no such tribes.

Besides being a visual artist you are a musician and a writer. There is an elemental force, which permeates all your works, a thread of synchronicity, an urban element.

I like keeping things out of balance and edgy and find most symmetry bland and one-dimensional. My roots are urban.

Being based in Bali, do you find it easier to concentrate in this environment?

I was raised one of four kids in an apartment in New York City. In order to do my homework there was a lot to tune out just to concentrate. Even now I like to work with the TV on and the sound turned down, the music playing, my pets wandering around the studio, and various others, what some may call distractions actually provide me with a means of focusing. Chaos presents many dimensions, which reflect in my work. I worked in warehouses in NYC, so I built a loft here using the same proportions but using traditional materials.

I remember you were the first to actually create a NY style loft here. So now tell me about your writing?

I always kept sketchbooks and journals. I used to write lyrics for music or throw them into the mix while jamming. A friend encouraged me to enter a poem to the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival Poetry Slam last year and to my surprise I took first prize. This year there were some good participants in the Poetry Slam. The right man won, he was great! This prompted me to start taking it a little more seriously, so I’m still working on my second book, currently titled, “The Revenge of the Chainsaw Buddha”. It’s a collection of short stories and poetry, and drawings made during my over 30 years of travel throughout the world.

Which artists do you most admire?

I admire anyone who has the balls to do this for a living.

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Mark Heyward
Pub. Transit Lounge Publishing 2013
ISBN: 978-1-921924-507

“One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.”
– Henry Miller

My bookshelf has a number of tales written by travellers through Indonesia; from Geoffrey Gorer in the mid ’30s (Bali and Angkor), to Norman Lewis (An Empire of the East – 1995), Redmond O’Hanlon (Into the Heart of Borneo – 1983), and George Monbiot’s Poisoned Arrows – 1989.

However, these were written by folk who came, observed, and then departed for pastures new, and not by someone who is the patriarch of an Indonesian family and has clocked up nigh on two decades here.

With his fellow Tasmanian wife and their two young children, Mark Heyward arrived in East Kalimantan in 1992 to teach at an international school for the children of expatriate miners. He had a certain wanderlust inherited from his family’s folklore and so he was not the first to leave Tasmania, that far-flung corner of the Commonwealth, for the tropical forests of Borneo.

In 1994, seeking “a little adventure in [his] own life” with three companions, he set out to cross Kalimantan from his home base in Sangatta to Pontianak in the southwest. His journal of the seventeen day adventure, recounting travelling by taksi air (water taxis, “the local public transport”), climbing mountain ridges, trekking through forests, wading across streams and exploring cave systems in isolated areas, forms the core of the book.

A year after his “adventure”, he returned to Tasmania, a divorce, and further study. As the subject of his PhD was ‘intercultural literacy’, returning to Kalimantan seemed natural, and it was at his old school that he met his future wife. Although currently based in Jakarta, where Mark works as an educational consultant for an international NGO, their home is in Lombok, where they have a studio, “a comfortable eco lodge”, and have helped set up a school for local children which invokes gotong royong (“community action”).

I’d only had time for a quick dip into the book before Mark and I first met up for a chat over a few Bintangs but, with delighted recognition, I had already realised that we were on the same page of different books.

Mark described his journal to me as “a little bit naive” and in writing a Tasmanian magazine article, which ended up as “half a book”, he realised that his “journey of a lifetime” was just part of a life’s journey.

And that becomes clear when reading Crazy Little Heaven. Although the journey across Kalimantan forms the main structure, it is divided into seven parts which act as pegs. These have allowed Mark to reflect not only on the ‘then’ but also on where it has led him; to the ‘now’.

For example, in Part 5, the trekkers come across an isolated Dayak family whose sole occupation, it seems, is to harvest birds’ nests from caves in limestone outcrops by clambering up precarious bamboo scaffolding. However, “while in the past birds’ nest were obtained exclusively from remote locations like this, more recently enterprising locals have begun farming the birds” for a “burgeoning Chinese market”.

Mark writes movingly about his visits to the orangutan rehabilitation centres founded by Willie Smits, the Borneo Orangutan Survival Foundation (BOS), and Biruté Galdikas who founded Camp Leakey.

“With our greed and appetite for progress, our cruelty and inability to share the planet with other creatures, we have become a destructive plague. Looking into the eyes of a young orangutan threw this into stark relief. Is his the last generation?”

Perhaps Mark’s journey is not so much myth-making as in placing his own in the context of the many myths westerners cannot grasp here. In order to conform to Indonesia’s marriage laws, Mark converted to Islam. In Part 6, Rapids and Religion, he offers an extensive ‘critique’ of religious ethical codes as practised here.

He witnessed the fatalism – Inshallah (God willing) – of Muslims in Aceh six months after the tsunami, yet I knew two parents who, having lost three of their four children to the waves, subsequently died of heart break.

His own sense of spirituality has led him to climb many volcanoes throughout the archipelago. On Gunung Inerie on Flores, which is a predominantly Catholic island, he had a sense of awe and wonder.

Standing on that peak, nothing around us but sharp, slender air, a strange stillness, the roaring silence prompted me. Turning to our local guide I asked, “Can you hear it? Can you hear the voice of God?”

“Nope,” he replied, with a puzzled look.

He later “wonders whether we should be looking beyond the Abrahamic religions for a spiritual basis for the environmental ethic we so desperately need.”

At the recent book launch in Kemang, a local journalist asked Mark, “What’s in it for Indonesian readers?” His answer was that he hoped it would help Indonesia-Australia relations.

A worthy aim, but as he told me, “Writing is an act of making meaning, sorting out the chaos, myth-making; and the primary audience is oneself.”

I suggested to Mark that because his journey as a young man had set the context of his life, perhaps the book served as a closure.

After 20 or so years spent travelling around the islands of Indonesia he said that “Indonesia has become me. The more Indonesia becomes comprehensible and ‘normal’, the more I appreciate the beguiling mix of contradictions and ambiguities; a sweet disappearing world.”

“Living and travelling in Indonesia teaches you nothing if not flexibility in thinking.”

How very true.

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An excerpt from Looking for Borneo, images, words and music inspired by the book, Crazy Little Heaven.

Not far from here, at the end of an impossibly potholed jungle track,traditional Bahau Dayak ways are preserved in this rapidly developing region. The isolated village of Eheng sports a fine sprawling lamin or longhouse where families live the old way and continue to enact the rituals which ensure respect is paid to ancestors, and ancient spirits are appeased. On a previous occasion when visiting Eheng with my family, I was greeted with the evocative sounds of a village gamelan orchestra mingling with the beat of mallet and chisel as a Whuge tree trunk was transformed into a heavily carved, symbolic totem pole. I watched for a while. Human figures with grotesquely exaggerated genitals and facial features emerged from the raw timber entwined with snakes, dragons and classic swirling motifs.

I climbed a notched wooden pole to enter the raised longhouse. As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I took in a remarkable scene. A small group was huddled around playing the gamelan gongs in the slatted light inside. In one corner of the communal space which ran the length of the structure, a group of old men sat around a Dayak shaman chanting in an unintelligible local language. A large area was separated with hanging dry leaf strips and floored with rattan mats. Beyond this, women squatted beside a pair of large Chinese porcelain jars, busy in the preparation of a range of festive foods. Villagers wandered about, smoking and chatting with a sidelong glance or sometimes an open stare at our intrusion. In the centre of the cordoned area hung a large and brightly painted wooden box, decorated with a profusion of colourful rags and plaited reeds. Looking up to where this arrangement was attached to the ceiling high above, I could see a cluster of cheap china plates and bowls suspended upside down amongst the dust and cobwebs.

“What is all that for?” asked my son, Oliver, then eleven years old and trying to make sense of it all.
By this stage, the economic opportunities that our visit presented were being asserted and a range of carved and woven artefacts was spread out for our inspection. My attention was diverted from speculation on the meaning of it all, and I set about the more pressing business of souvenir shopping.“Beats me,” I replied, my Indonesian language not then good enough for me to find out.

It was not until some time later that the significance of this scene became clear.

On a second visit to Eheng, a few months later, Tim and I met Michael Cope, an Australian anthropologist who for two years had been living on and off in the village and studying the Bahau people’s religion and changing society. Michael looked rather like a tall and bearded version of the scrawny kampung chickens that scrabble about beneath the longhouse, this appearance perhaps being the effect of a prolonged diet of nasi putih and local cigarettes. He was happy to have the opportunity for conversation in his native tongue with visitors interested in his research.

“Eheng,” he explained, “is a typically young lowland Dayak village. It was established around thirty years ago when the villagers migrated from the inland. Since that time only three traditional funeral ceremonies have been held. It just costs too much.”

The elaborate three-week-long rituals are apparently a financial burden few families can bear. To cover the costs of the funeral we had stumbled into on the previous visit, it is likely that the host family would have sold one of the priceless antique ceramic jars that were once traded upstream by Chinese merchants for precious jungle products, and have now become collectors’ items coveted by antique traders from the coast.

The totem pole or sepunduq I observed being carved was to be erected in the clearing in front of the longhouse, where it would serve as a hitching post for a sacrificial beast at the climax of the ceremony. In earlier times a human sacrifice would have been offered. After the funeral, the carved pole was probably sold to help offset costs. The colourful box hanging inside the longhouse had contained the disinterred and ritually washed bones of those family members whose spirits were to be released for their journey on the ship of the dead to a Dayak heaven.

Glorious Mud 2014 pencil, pen and wash on paper by Khan Wilson

“On the final night of the three weeks of rituals,” Michael went on, “those bones were taken from the box and given a wild party before they were put in their sandung.” As he talked he led us to the village cemetery where the sandung were to be found. A row of five or six carved wooden sarcophagi rested a couple of metres above the weedy ground on carved poles.

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Meet John Marciano, founder of the Republic of Soap – a holistic approach to creating products reminiscent of a bygone era, made by hand in small batches, with love!

You are a child of expatriates. Where are you from originally?
I have mixed heritage and was born in Izmir, Turkey. When I was six months old my family moved to New York. But I started kindergarten in Jakarta, and also attended the Joint Embassy School, which is now known as the Jakarta International School (JIS). In the mid ‘70s, we moved to Singapore and had a household there for 22 years. I remember so many beautiful colonial buildings – that unfortunately don’t exist today. I’ve always loved the Arts, and ended up majoring in Fine Art at a private university in Texas. Once I graduated from University I joined an apprenticeship programme for Art Conservation and was trained in the restoration of 3D decorative fine art objects such as wood, stone, jade, and all types of ceramics. After three years of this, I returned to Singapore to start a company dedicated to the preservation of National Heritage Artworks.

That’s incredible! Tell me more about that!
Well, I adhere to the American Institute for Conservation’s code of ethics, which essentially means that although the art restoration I do is often undetectable to the human eye, all my work is reversible. So in the future when better technologies are available, a future Art Conservator will easily be able to continue the effort to preserve historic works of art by easily removing the work I’ve done without problem. I have restored some great pieces, ranging from modern to prehistoric art. I’ve seen art that is invaluable in private collections. In Singapore I restored a lot of incredible porcelain because the Chinese value works of art in this medium very highly.

What brought you here to Bali to live?
I first came to Bali in 1974…can you believe that?!  Jeez, I feel old!  I was a child and went around on the back of my Dad’s rented motorbike. It was mesmerizing! Even though I was young, I still remember a lot about how Bali was back then. I remember when the road in front of the original Mades Warung on Jalan Pantai Kuta was dirt….with two-way traffic. And I remember when the road from Simpang Siur to Sanur wasn’t yet a bypass and still had unpaved stretches going through thick jungle. Imagine riding through that at night with no street lights whatsoever…creepy!  I continued visiting Bali many times throughout my life and to this day there are still pockets I visit where I feel time has stood still. Sometimes it’s the way the light hits the sand and the trees, the sounds and smells; I get transported back, and it’s always nice to have that frame of reference – knowing what Bali was like before. I feel privileged to be able to know that. When a business opportunity arose in Bali I came here to live. That was 15 years ago.

I buy your soaps all the time. What got you into doing the Republic of Soap?
I originally moved to Bali to make candles. Historically speaking, the village Chandler made candles and soap, so the idea of making soap was intriguing. A chandler typically made candles and soap with rendered animal fat. I was a vegetarian and didn’t want to animal products, so I experimented at home and kept a log of all the batches – testing them by giving the soaps to friends for feedback and adjusted the components to suit a market of people with all skin types. After a few initial challenges, I finally achieved all the characteristics I wanted in soap which was a natural bar of soap that was hard and long lasting. All my bar soap is cold processed (made without external heat). From the natural vegetable soap, it was a gradual transition into manufacturing liquid soap and all the other body care products I manufacture today. Depending on what is being requested, my products typically range between being 97% to 100% natural.

When did you expand to private label and other products?
Private label started quickly. All my special order clients walk in with a dream or an idea. I simply act as their hands to make what they want a reality. Clients usually include Hotels, Spas, Resorts, Villas and Boutiques. I do a lot of custom tailoring for clients. I’m not a chemist, but more like a baker. I employ what I call “kitchen chemistry” to create fun and innovative products, which can be challenging when dealing with natural ingredients. The natural order of anything natural is to break down and decompose back into nature. There are natural ingredients which act as preservatives, so I include them whenever possible for longevity of product. I try to make products that are long lasting and organic.

You seem to know a lot about local natural beauty products. What’s beneficial for us in Bali to help keep our skin healthy and beautiful?
To be honest – I would say that awareness is probably more important than having a huge arsenal of beauty products for every type of application imaginable.  Natural beauty comes from within.  It’s quite simple in my mind: Stay clean! Stay out of the sun as much as possible and use Sun Protection when you are in the sun. Smile a lot. Eat well and stay hydrated – and be thankful that you’re in a place where you can easily drink lots of coconut water! Coconut water is amazing stuff!

We are in the sun so much, especially when driving bikes. I hear you have the biggest bike in Bali? Care to comment?
I do have a big cruiser made for American highways. I enjoy the ride. You can cruise comfortably all day on it. But to get around all the traffic I use a smaller bike because it just makes more sense.

So now tell me about your other interests. I see you have a guitar leaning against an old Marshall amp over there.
I love to play guitar. I like blues and rock based music. I just arrived back from playing the Bangkok Blues Festival, which was fun!

John picks up his guitar and plays some riffs. Play on John…

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Although art is essentially useless (you can’t eat or drink it, it provides little shelter and makes bad clothing, and thus serves no utilitarian purpose), questions about intellectual property rights and new laws governing them have shaken the Art World to its core for more than a decade in a series of claims and counter claims involving individuals, institutions and governments.

In more simple times, the old adage “Possession is 90% of the Law” was the rule. If you owned the work of art, you also owned the copyright. While this meant little for the vast majority of art, collectors and institutions that owned Iconic Images like the “Mona Lisa” or van Gogh’s “Starry Night” often reaped enormous sums of money by selling the reproduction rights.

As brilliantly illustrated in the Robert Hughes’ television series “The Mona Lisa Curse”, huge profits made by a new breed of speculator-collectors on works of art they bought for a pittance from struggling artists provoked cries of foul play led by major artists such as Robert Rauschenberg. He demanded that the artist-creator also receive a share of the windfall profits gained from their intellectual property.

While some countries, like Holland, enacted new laws that stipulated that living artists receive a percentage of subsequent sales of their works, for the most part the old ways continued unchanged. There is one exception in regard to intellectual property right as many countries passed laws saying that unless a work of art was sold by the artist with a contract stating that he had sold both the art piece and the copyright, then the copyright remained with the artist. These laws were largely based on those governing the copyrights of authors and their heirs which, unless specifically contractually stated, extended until 50 years after the death of the writer. A similar law exists in Indonesia.

While noble in intention, like many laws, few artists ever benefit from their rightful copyright simply because outside of a handful of better known works by better known artists, there is almost no demand. Ironically artists are often overjoyed to have their work reproduced in the media for absolutely nothing because it is a form of promotion. Further even if they decided to pursue their rights, the legal costs, and time involved, are so prohibitive that it would become a futile exercise.

The pre-World War Two modernist painters and sculptors are a good illustration of this phenomenon. Produced for the foreign market, the vast majority of these remarkably original works of art were exported long ago. While the Pita Maha artists association regulated both the quality of the work and transparently sought to guarantee that they were not only sold for a fair price, but also that the majority of the sum paid ended up in the pockets of the artist, in many cases the artists received little for their art, much less their original ideas. So, too, the prices of these remarkably works of art rose incredibly in the last years and have been the subject of numerous books. Copyright was certainly not paid and it is even doubtful if the heirs even received a copy of the publications.

To correct this situation the Museum Puri Lukisan in Ubud has now instituted a new program of registering the copyright claims of Bali’s pre-World War II artists, and actively managing them to assure that the rights of the artists and heirs are enforced. The first concerns the artwork of Gusti Nyoman Lempad, one of the island’s most acclaimed artists. The decision to take such steps was made after the museum learned that a foreigner who offered to sponsor a planned catalogue for an upcoming grand retrospective exhibition decided to produce his own book after receiving a great deal of information under false pretence. Now in possession of the exclusive copyright agreement any attempt to use a reproduction of any image of a Lempad work of art without first gaining written permission will result in legal challenges. The museum further hopes to extend this program to other artists from Bali’s “Golden Age”.

National Governments, including Indonesia, have also claimed the rights of reproduction of iconic artworks such as Borobudur’s Buddhas and Prajnaparamita, the Buddhist Goddess of Supreme Wisdom, which has appeared on the covers of numerous books. Again, while these ideas are noble and well intentioned the results are often messy and counterproductive because serious publications honouring great art and artists are an important element in keeping their legacy alive.

For example, although I authored a major book on the art and life of the Dutch artist, Willem Hofker, who can be described as one of the most poignant of the expatriate artists who lived and worked on the island before the Second World War, copyright has been used to prevent my publishing a new edition incorporating extensive new information I have gathered in the last decade.

The problem is that the family was not pleased with the information I included, concerning his relationships with his models in an essay published on Hofker in the 2009 catalogue of Bali’s Pasifika Museum. I had learned years ago when I interviewed Gusti Mawar, one of his most beautiful models, of his love of Balinese women, and in this case their torrid affair, which certainly helps explains the heavy current of eroticism in his paintings of her.

As a result, the family decided to exclude me from a forthcoming book on Hofker that will not only be sanitized and censored, but also authored by a self-important newcomer Gianni Orsini, who has never spent much time in Bali or Indonesia and nevertheless presents himself as a major expert on the field. Notably he never met Maria Hofker or any other of the major players of the time. His long-winded digressions recently published in two Christies’ catalogues are predictably full of speculative fluff, effusively romantic odes to Bali and very little content since his knowledge is limited at best. My attempt to produce a book based on more than 20 years of research in Bali and Holland has been prevented by their using control of the copyright to prevent any other publication. I guess it does not matter since few, if any, ever read the texts anyway!

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Paul Spencer Sochaczewski was born in 1947 in Brooklyn and grew up in suburban New Jersey. His earliest memory is climbing on to the kitchen counter, then the stove and then atop the refrigerator, pretending it was Mount Everest. As a child he liked baseball, writing and making his mother worry. Paul spent years developing international campaigns for ad agencies and NGOs like WWF and International Osteoporosis Foundation, while simultaneously pursuing his writing career, publishing Soul of the Tiger (1995), Redheads (2000), Sultan and the Mermaid Queen (2009) and An Inordinate Fondness for Beetles (2012). Paul now runs writing workshops in more than 20 countries.

When did you first know that you had writing talent?
I wrote my first play at age eight about flying bears, aliens and buried treasure. The first book I ever read without pictures was The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet by Eleanor Cameron. I guess I inherited the science fiction gene from my father, who introduced me to the greats – Frederick Pohl, Theodore Sturgeon, Isaac Asimov and Robert Sheckley.

Did you have an epiphany in your youth that foretold your life as a writer?
I realized I wasn’t good enough to play pro baseball and would need an alternative job, preferably one where I could wear jeans and t-shirts. My early preparation for a life of writing was everything I experienced while living in the suburbs in the 1950s. One formative experience I remember was how in primary school we had drills crouching under our desks in the event of a Russian nuclear attack. It wasn’t until much later that I started to question the value of such an exercise. One of my main motivations spurring me to write in later years was the environmental destruction I was seeing around me.

What are your hobbies/interests?
Collecting unusual Ganesha images, cooking, gardening (especially tomatoes), Italian opera.

What’s your educational background?
I have a PhD in life experiences. I hold a BA in Psychology from George Washington University, whose famous alumni include Alex Baldwin, L. Ron Hubbard, Jackie O.

If you had to name your favourite writers, who would they be?
Tom Wolfe. Carl Hiaasen. Joseph Heller. Simon Schama. Tom Robbins. Bill Bryson. Paul Theroux (fiction only), Graham Greene. John Updike. Malcolm Gladwell. Wolfe’s Bonfire of the Vanities and Heller’s Catch-22 are black and funny and real.

How did you initially get interested in writing about Indonesia?
It was a natural evolution of interests. Funny thing about writers, lots of them are (at least at the beginning) rather shy and introspective, and writing is a way of going public while still semi-hiding. But it takes courage to put your stuff out there, particularly personal stuff, since it’s very easy for critics (and everyone who buys a newspaper is a critic) to turn the page, or worse, say “that’s rubbish”.

When was your first visit to Indonesia?
In 1971 while living in Singapore and working as Creative Director of an ad agency. They sent me for a short time assignment in Indonesia. Since then I have visited many dozens of the country’s islands, including many obscure eastern Indonesian islands. Ever been to Aru, Bacan, Kei, Misool, Wakatobi and Halmahera?

What inspired you to write Redheads?
I left Washington, D.C., where I went to college to go to Sarawak to work with the U.S. Peace Corps. I lived with tribal communities. I’m perhaps the only international conservationist to have hands-on experience in slashing and burning the rainforest. That’s how I got interested in tribal rights, rainforest destruction, and greedy politicians.

Is there any other book like it?
Catch-22, but in a different context. One reviewer wrote, “Redheads does for the struggle to save the rainforests of Borneo what Catch-22 did for the struggle to stay alive in WWII.”

Is the book only about orangutans?
All the characters have red or reddish (or henna-tinged) hair. It’s about tribal rights. Rainforest destruction. Fraudulent scientists. Big-ego but naïve international conservation efforts. Orangutan’s similarities (and dissimilarities) with humans. Sex. Greed. I hope it’s funny.

What did you go through researching the book?
The usual rainforest experiences – wonder, boredom, lousy food, too much mixed alcohol (rice wine, Guinness, moonshine, brandy), discomfort, athlete’s foot, leeches, snakes, rain, more rain. I learned that some things are so serious and depressing that you have to laugh. Also, that sometimes fiction is a better way of alerting and influencing people to problems than often boring and self-serving non-fiction. Just tell a good story!

What revelations about people did you come away with?
People are people, some good, some evil, most somewhere in between, just trying to get by and hoping for a lucky break when they can find one. There does seem to be a law of inverse generosity. The less people have in life the more willing they are to share it with you.

Is there a thread running through all your books?
That ego and greed are dangerous. They are inevitable. We have to deal with it. Also, there just might be a way to develop, let’s say, a “deep ecology” relationship with nature.

Which field of research do you prefer?
The get-your-hands-dirty kind. Recently I went on a trip in northern Thailand with a bunch of Thai palaeontologists looking for coprolites – fossilized dung of freshwater sharks that lived 200 million years ago.

What are you reading at the moment?
A bunch of adventure novels. I really admire any writer who can just tell a good story. But the best book I’ve read so far this year was Tom Wolfe’s Back to Blood.

What writing project are you working on now?
Ah, another Big Book. Sharing the Journey, a writer’s guide book on how to tell their personal story based on my writing workshops. I’ve also been working for 30 years on a new novel, but won’t jinx it by discussing it publically.

Any words you want to leave us with?
Be very careful of the big international NGOs. They don’t need your cash and will waste much of it. Give money and emotional support instead to the small local NGOs in whatever domain you are interested in: battered women, literacy, the arts, animal welfare, conservation, child labour, peace. The small guys have passion and get things done.

Where can people learn more about your work?
My website: www.sochaczewski.com

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Ever since you walked right in,

The circle’s been complete,

I love you more than ever,

And I haven’t begun yet…

Wedding Song – Bob Dylan

Music represents feelings. No wait, let me start again. Music is feelings; happy, sad, angry, grateful, calm, overjoyed, inspired, excited, free and easy. Sometimes you have that moment that words cannot express but you have a song for that feeling. Certain memories can suddenly come back and run through your head if you hear a certain song. That does explain why nowadays everyone is so picky when choosing their wedding singer for the big day.

Chaplin

Every one of us has our ‘love theme song’ in life and most likely you will want that song to be sung on your wedding day. It sets the mood and you can utter the words, “They’re playing our song!” leaving you both in happy tears.

Imagine having a wonderful party with your closest friends and family, with songs to remember. Your first walk hand-in-hand as a couple, have your first dance as husband and wife. Of course, you should have a perfect wedding singer to complete your wonderful day.Back in the 1850s, the tune Here Comes the Bride was the most popular song ever. It’s traditionally played when the bride enters to walk down the aisle. But far before that, Mozart composed the Serenata Ascanio for wedding festivities of Archduke Ferdinand, the Royal Prince of Hungary. Also Schubert made Kupelwieser Waltz as a wedding gift for Leopold Kupelwieser, the famous Austrian Painter.

Different cultures have different ceremony songs and dances to celebrate. Through the changes of time, tradition has also changed. More singers or bands singing love songs have created new wedding songs. Here Comes the Bride is rarely played.

Wedding singer culture has also grown fast in Indonesia. It all started as background music during dinnertime, but it is now one of the main entertainments of every wedding; a single keyboard player with a singer, a guitarist with a singer, to a full orchestra colouring wedding parties all over Indonesia.

Pop

For the pop genre, Elfa’s Singers is one of the most popular singers that perform in weddings in Indonesia. Agus Wisman, Yana Julio, Lita Zein and Ucie Nurul are formed by the late Elfa Secoria, a famous Indonesian music producer back in 1986. They perform a large number of wedding parties.

Motown

Inspired by motown kind of music, Laid This Nite brings R&B and soul to the stage. Being a regular performer in some bars in Jakarta, Laid This Nite is a great alternative for an uplifting, soulful wedding band. They don’t only perform at weddings in Jakarta, but also other cities including Bali. Taufan, one of Laid This Nite’s personnel explains that they don’t really have issues of songs requests, because the couples that book them already know what kind of music that they are playing.

“Lately, the most requested song to play is Happy from Pharrel, but sometimes we also get song requests from Michael Buble or Frank Sinatra. That is not a big deal. What challenges us is how to keep in mind that we are playing for a wedding, not our own event. We don’t want to steal the thunder of the happiest couple of the night,” Taufan added. With the average fee of USD $2,000 – $3,500, Laid This Nite, who were previously named Ladies Nite, can be your choice if you have a larger budget and want all your guests dancing to upbeat songs. These guys can turn up the heat sexy, sensual, and made-for-moving grooves.

Teza Sumendra

Soul & Jazz

Another singer that spends his time flying between Bali and Jakarta for weddings is Teza Sumendra. Not winning Indonesian Idol was actually an advantage for Teza. Performing on Ali Topan the Musical and working with big names like Indra Lesmana and Dhira Sugandi have brought him to where he is now. He’s not merely a wedding singer; he also has his own project as a solo artist. Teza performs regularly at bars like Poste and Umbra, and started on the wedding circuit when some of his close friends asked him to sing at their weddings.

“We hope his job as a wedding singer is not influencing his image that we are trying to develop,” stated Aria Baja, the Director of Lockermedia, Teza’s talent management. “With his kind of voice, Teza is still a strong image that is constantly growing,” Baja added. Teza’s voice ranges from the style of Babyface, Justin Timberlake to Brian McKnight. You can easily book him with the band for around USD $3,000 to $5,000.

Whatever style of music you choose for your wedding, whichever dancing style you prefer, you want to leave your guests wanting more, not less, as you want your wedding to be enjoyed and remembered by every guest in attendance.

TOP 10 SONGS MOST HEARD AT WEDDINGS:

1. All of Me – John Legend
2. Home – Michael Bublé
3. Lucky – Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait
4. All My Life – Kci and Jojo
5. I Finally Found Someone – Barbra Streisand & Bryan Adams
6. You Make Me Feel Brand New – Simply Red
7. From This Moment On – Shania Twain
8. Can’t Help Falling In Love – Elvis Presley
9. A Thousand Years – Christina Perry
10. Make You Feel My Love – Adele

OTHER RECOMMENDED WEDDING SINGERS & BANDS

1. Chaplin Band – Top 40 hits
2. Jamaica Café – Acapella
3. Bona Pascal – Jazz
4. Terrence and Friends – Oriental
5. HannyNCo – Pop, jazz, orchestra

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“If you have to ask what jazz is, you’ll never know.” ? Louis Armstrong

En route to the eleventh annual Java Jazz Festival, the macet was particularly cruel. Stuck on a fume-riddled planet ruled by strange machines called Kijang and Avanza, we could only whimper quietly, clutching our tickets to probably the most exciting musical event in Indonesia, wondering if we’ll actually miss the whole thing at this rate. Eventually, we walked the last mile to the Jakarta International Expo. Access and parking at the festival seems to worsen each year, and organisers desperately need to do something about it.

Nonetheless, Java Jazz purportedly attracts upwards of 120,000 visitors, 100 artists and 1,000 musicians from home and abroad annually. 2015’s headliners were about as far from jazz as you can get (certainly farther than previous years), in the shape of Jessie J, a big-lunged Londoner, and Christina Perri, a nondescript American singer-songwriter – both of whom are best described by that convenient catch-all, ‘pop’. Clearly this year, organisers were trying to appeal to a wider, younger audience.

Avoiding these, I made a beeline for the number-one act on my list, a soul sensation relatively new to the jazz scene: Jarrod Lawson.

Lawson was a few minutes into his set, but we hadn’t missed the best tracks and nabbed a spot right in front. Immediately it was clear the monitors were giving him trouble; and when I spoke to Lawson after the show it transpired he couldn’t hear his piano the entire time – but that didn’t stop him putting on a consummate performance.

Lawson’s brand of soulful jazz is at once ‘now’ and timeless. His wide-ranging influences are easily identifiable, but through funked-up beats and spiritual lyrics, he makes it his own. His vocals have the nuance, depth and curve of (one of) his hero’s, Stevie Wonder, and live, this was spine-tingling to witness. My favourites were a sneak preview of a track called ‘Soul Symphony’ from his upcoming new album, and the lead track from 2014’s debut, Jarrod Lawson, ‘Music and Its Magical Way’.

Incognito in full swing

I asked Lawson about his experience of the festival and Indonesia in general. The answer was full of the same thoughtful, humanitarian goodwill as his lyrics: “It’s hard for me to separate being in this bubble [the festival] with the poverty you see outside on the streets.” Talking about the crowd, he seemed unfazed by the habit (which really bothers me) of audiences here to sit down, even right on the floor, when there’s an electrifying live performance going on. Instead he was pleased with the turnout and expressed gratitude at being a part of Java Jazz. I’ll bet he’s back with an even bigger following in future.

Other international acts included Chris Botti, a smooth jazz saxophonist; Bobbi McFerrin, a veteran of the festival; and irrepressible Brooklyn collective, Snarky Puppy. Local talents outnumbered foreign and highlights such as the renowned Naturally 7, and Idang Rasjidi (who scats in Indonesian, to a George Benson vibe) lit the stage up for many. Festivalgoer Dewi Hermanto told me “we come every year, it’s a source of national pride.”

Onwards to Saturday’s headliner, Chaka Khan featuring Incognito. The festival’s mad crushes masquerading as queues are another issue organisers need to address. Teenage ‘security’ staff had zero control over the crowds, and a glass door was shaking from the accumulating pressure. Once inside it was still mayhem – surely caused by a very strange decision to have rows of seating rather than standing space. Not so for headliner Jamie Cullum last year in the same room, and although he suffered a few patches of kumbaya groups sitting on the floor, at least his fans could get close to the stage and create some atmosphere. In contrast, it was three-quarters of the way through this show before security lifted a barrier, allowing fans to get up and dance rather than sitting like bored schoolchildren on their phones, filming the performance instead of living it.

Jarrod Lawson

But – Chaka’s still got it. At 61, she looks stunning, hitting those high wails like it was 1984. Opening on a cracker, ‘I Feel For You’ was terrific and she kept the pace with ‘Ain’t Nobody’. ‘Tell Me Something Good’ gave Khan the chance to play with the crowd, getting guys and girls to sing the famous refrain to each other. It was then I noticed just how many people were singing along word-for-word, creating a feel-good, harmonious atmosphere of like-minded fans.

Khan took a break, allowing Incognito to treat us to some serious acid jazz. Bandleader Bluey regaled us with childhood stories of dreaming up his ultimate group: Stevie on keys, George Benson on rhythm guitar, himself (naturally) on lead, and the legendary Chaka Khan singing – a dream that had come true tonight, and a heartfelt message for aspiring musicians in the audience. The band was on fire – they ripped into a fan’s fantasy set-list: ‘Good Love’, ‘Everyday’, and the touching ‘Still a Friend of Mine.’ The star of the show was purple-haired singer Katie Leone, whose vocal prowess was phenomenal – a real force to be reckoned with.

Finally, Khan came back to generously give fans the big hits they craved, including ‘Through the Fire’ and ‘What Cha’ Gonna Do For Me’. Khan had a message for us before launching into her final song, ‘I’m Every Woman’: “This is not just a song for women. If you’re a dude and you wanna get down to this, you go ahead.” And many a dude did.

Bring on next year. If anyone has a spare helicopter I can use for transport though, let me know.

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What better way to spend a stunning, sunlit Sunday than with beautiful people, dangerously delicious cocktails and an EDM God in a venue of immense beauty that is Potato Head Beach Club.

Sunday was a scorcher! Tourists and Expats from all over the world flocked to be a part of what some may favour the highlight of Bali’s 2012 Music Calendar starring none other than Norman Cook aka Fatboy Slim.

The event kicked-off with hotshot DJs, Stevie G (USA) & Lady Flic (NZ), who delivered a mix of House, Reggae, Soul and Chill classics to a rapidly expanding gathering of young and old boasting six-packs and bikini-clad beach-bods; eye-candy heaven to say the least. Whilst Bintangs and inflatable crocodiles governed the pool area, a more relaxed crowd basked in the sun enjoying cocktails on the lawn. Ye lads and lasses flirting, friends chatting and old friends catching up; all round, great vibes with a cheerful Summer Music Festival ambience swept POTATO HEAD BEACH CLUB on a glorious scorcher of a day, which in spite of the recent weather back home, I took great pleasure in announcing via Facebook (cheeky smile). Back to the music – tunes from old to new, from Classic 60’s Soul to 00’s Big-Room House got Bali’s finest and visitors up on their feet from late afternoon to sunset thanks to POTATO HEAD’s Expat Resident DJs.

With a picturesque backdrop of the Sun setting, the venue packed and the crowd wild with excitement in ever-escalating anticipation – silence struck – and after a world class introduction from the MC the venue erupted to Praise You, a Fatboy Slim fan favourite and what I like to call “one of those religious music experiences” – goose-bumps, hairs on end, shivers down your spine, smiling faces, peace, love and unity.

During the course of the evening an eclectic mix of the unique Fatboy Slim sound ‘Party Acid House’ rocked the BEACH CLUB from Oldskool Electronic Classics to Hip-Hop Anthems to Rock n Roll Legends. Satisfaction and Rock The Casbah, legendary Rock n Roll classics mixed with Mr Slim’s own tracks and a locally inspired remix which definitely got the fans pumped: “I’m In Bali, B****” teased and hyped the fans. Amongst them were other memorable Mash-Ups and Classics including Not Over Yet and California Love.

As you all may well know the “Funk Soul Brother” has always had a knack for uniting crowds through music and props and is no stranger to summer beach parties ie his Big Beach Boutique; giant Smiley Skull and Cross Bone beach balls (a Fatboy Slim Trademark) were tossed into the sea of ravers. Bob Marley’s Could You Be Loved, House Of Pain’s’ Jump Around and a version of John Paul Young’s Love Is In The Air, created an immense sense of love and unity among revellers, which great music and people often do.

Disgruntled party-goers complained about the queue for the toilets when in fact the toilets were not fully occupied, although some attendees did not comply with queuing or security POTATO HEAD BEACH CLUB did well to control the facilities for such a large-scale event. When asked regarding the toilet situation, Steve Cromie, Operations Manager shared, “Regarding the toilets, we were limiting the amount of people going downstairs for two reasons; so as to not create a bottle-neck in the area as it is quite enclosed and also to ensure that cleaning was taking place in-between customers.”  Fair-play to Steve and his team.

Fellow ravers were also miffed about ticket and drink prices. I asked Emilie, 30, a Lawyer from Paris on her viewpoint. “It is such a beautiful place (Potato Head), it is a little expensive but to see Fatboy Slim in Bali, it is worth it.” Holly, 33, a Dive Instructor from West London praised, post-gig, “Awesome, the best event in Bali so far, great drinks, great people, awesome music!” From the roars of the crowd and smiling faces I imagine everyone got their money’s worth.

This was my first ever Fatboy Slim gig and it lived up to my expectations; fantastic music, an electric atmosphere, crowd unity and a togetherness which we should see more of in the Bali party scene. Merit is due to POTATO HEAD for their friendly and attentive bar staff, security and organizers who made it a pleasurable party experience.

This was without a shadow of a doubt up there with the greatest music events I have ever been to, if not THE best. Musical experiences and journeys such as on Sunday 15th are few and far between and for a music-lover such as myself, bliss!

I think and hope I speak on behalf of all the attendees when I ask POTATO HEAD BEACH CLUB; “WHEN IS NORMAN COMING BACK!?”

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The prominent role of gay expatriate artists in Bali before the Second World War must have deeply disturbed some members of the very conservative white colonial society. Luckily for Walter Spies and Rudolf Bonnet, the two most famous homosexuals of the time, Bali was still a very isolated location that had not attracted a great deal of attention during the late 1920s when they settle there. They also took the added precaution of settling in Ubud a village just faraway enough from the government capital in Denpasar. Official guests of the royal family they felt safe and secure.

When compared to Europe, the Dutch East Indies was something of a haven for gay men because of an unofficial policy of “don’t ask and don’t tell”. The policy was not the result of enlightened thinking but a practical measure.  Enlisting qualified candidates for the expanding economy and bureaucracy had long been a major problem. Tropical Indonesia had a dreadful reputation for disease and danger that only the desperate, hopelessly idealistic or super ambitious wished to experience.

The 18th century many newcomers were shanghaied or kidnapped. A century later large cash payments in gold florins were used to entrap people like the penniless and desperate French poet Arthur Rimbaud to enlist in the notorious colonial army. In Holland convicted criminals were often given the choice of serving in the colony or a long jail sentence. The appallingly low standards made it easy to ignore sexual bias especially if you were educated and competent. Like the Catholic Church, the authorities were also astute enough to post the more flamboyant types to the most isolated positions as a precaution. Only entanglements with the politically or economically influential were discouraged.

Gay Men were attracted not only by comparatively liberty but also the allure of exotic native lovers. Local attitudes towards sexuality were ambivalent throughout Indonesia and although it would be wrong to say that gays had equal status they were usually tolerated and in some places like the bisu priests of the Bugis, often achieved status. The blur between the sexes is also seen in images of male heroes of courtly dances where refined male types are often exceedingly feminine and women once played by men. In societies where young men and girls were strictly separated, homosexual encounters between young men was not unusual and rarely censored. The Dutch East Indies was not an unattractive option for gay men in search of freedom to live without fear.

For Walter Spies, this freedom came to an abrupt end in 1939 when he was arrested by the colonial equivalent of the vice squad for corrupting the morals of a minor. For the most part this event has been described as a witch-hunt by an evil colonial regime. The actual story if far more complex and raises many difficult questions that cannot be glossed over.

Perhaps the most startling piece of news is that Walter had been warned many months before his arrest that he was under investigation. One must ask if his choice to ignore their advice to tone down his flamboyant behaviour was a result of an inability to control his natural tendencies or a self-deluding belief that he was so well connected to be untouchable.

He ignored other wake up calls as well. These included the moral outrage of Mary Pos, a famous Dutch travel writer, who after a visit to Bali in 1937 described Spies habit of driving around the island with a bevy of boys as “A degrading mockery of decent behaviour, wilfully bringing about…degeneration…”  He had also unwittingly made an enemy of the Danish wife of L. S. W. van der Noordaa, a respected elder Dutch sculptor, who lived in the royal palace in Ubud.  A born again Christian and rabid homophobe she became close confident of the American born again Christian wife of the all powerful governor-general Tjarka van Starkenborgh Stachouwer who actually meet Spies and Bonnet at the Bali Museum in 1935. Stimulated by exaggerated reports of declining morality and the need to protect the natives against white sexual predators, he was responsible for a pan-Indonesian investigation that resulted with hundreds of arrests of gay men in 1938 and 1939.

The arrest of Spies resulted in an immediate swelling of support from around the world spearheaded by Margaret Mead and Jane Belo, the wife of Canadian composer Colin McPhee who had come out of the closet during his prolonged stay in Bali and was also under investigation. Mead and Belo aided by Walter’s many friends designed a defence that seems odd by today’s standards.

Gregory Bateson, Mead’s husband, expounded that his study of the Balinese character had proven that the idea of time, as we understood it in the west, was unknown to the Balinese. In effect this meant that any testimony they gave was unreliable. The absence of any sense of time also meant it was impossible to establish the age Spies’ alleged under-aged lover.  Another peculiar argument was that Balinese men matured at an earlier age thus western standards for defining a minor were not applicable. The defence even got the boy’s father to testify that the family liked Spies and that from their perspective there wasn’t any problem.

In spite of the reading of a treatise written by Mead in Walter’s defence declaring him a rare artistic type who had found his kindred spirits in Bali who should be an exception to the rule, Spies was convicted and sentenced. Luckily some of his circle had enough sense and influence to understand that he was not going to get off and instead made sure that his sentence was short and above all that he would not be deported. After 8 months in prison he was released in December 1939 not much worse for the wear.

Like many legendary heroes it is difficult to discuss Spies outside a mytho-poetic context. His first biographer, Hans Rhodius, idealized him as an extraordinary artist, musician and Renaissance man. Rhodius told me in 1979 that he had travelled to Bali in 1938 as a young man but failed to meet him. He did, however, visit his house. Spies subsequently became a role model that ended up with Rhodius coming out of the closet late in his life. Ironically his massive book on Spies, written in German, makes no overt reference to him being gay. This was the result of a direct agreement with Spies’ family who only allowed him access to his prolific correspondence if he agreed to expurgate any reference to his sexuality. Today Spies has also graduated to gay icon and liberator. Still as many including Australian scholar Adrian Vickers has pointed out, it is wrong to ignore the moral dilemma. A comparable situation concerning the sexual activities of the gay Australian artist Donald Friend with underage men in Bali exposed in a recent TV has also provoked controversy. The art of both men stands and once again we learn that life and love is complex and oftentimes dark and frightening. When it comes to sexuality the human mind is full of shadows and secrets. What is forbidden or permissible often changes with time. The greatness of Spies is undeniable. It is also doubtful that he ever committed any act with malice. Let us accept him as a remarkable but imperfect man.

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With the islandwide celebration of Dewi Saraswati on August 10th, it’s only appropriate to offer a paean to Bali’s bountiful World of Books. The wife of the god Brahma, Saraswati is the Indian goddess of wisdom, the guardian spirit of the creative arts, learning and knowledge. The graceful Balinese gooseswan, the nearest thing on the island to a true swan — the symbol of the muse — is her sacred mount.

Hari Raya Saraswati is a day of thanks to this beloved goddess for bringing education to the world. Out of respect, it is not permissible to read or write from Friday evening until special rites are carried out on sacred manuscripts. On this day all books are taken out and dusted, then presented as an offering. Special attention is paid to Bali’s oldest “books,” sacred lontar palm leaf manuscripts, which have been taken out from valuable collections, cleansed and blessed by priests and put on exhibit in the Puja Saraswati ritual.

At Gedong Kirtya (Jl. Veteran 20, Singaraja, tel. 036222645) visitors may view these holy books and even take photos. A staff of 24 take care of the 4,000 odd lontar books in this library which record the literature, mythology, horoscopes, black and white magic, folklore, rituals, medical science, calendars, genealogies and histories of Bali and Lombok. The most precious, dating from the 18th century, are kept in a special airconditioned room. Every September 14th there’s a big anniversary celebration. Hours: 7.30 am3.45 pm, closes at 1 pm on Friday, closed Saturday and Sunday.

Bookstores of Bali

Bali’s best stocked bookstore is the massive Gramedia on the second floor of Mal Bali Galleria (Jl. Raya Bypass Ngurah Rai, tel. 0361758072) which sells thousands of titles in Indonesian, imported books and magazines, novels and bestsellers.

Periplus, with 15 bookstores all over Bali, sells a very wide range of books, a large number of which they publish themselves. Periplus is often the sole distributor of new book titles in Indonesia. This shop carries a range of English titles of local interest, literature, art, interior decoration, spirituality, cooking, plus novels, interactive children’s books, general nonfiction, maps and the latest international magazine. Browsing isn’t encouraged as there are no chairs and most books are wrapped in plastic.

Ganesha Bookshop, on the corner of Jl. Raya Ubud and Jl. Jembawan (opposite the post office) in Ubud, has been selling new books since 1990. They have a huge stock of books in English on Indonesian literature, language, cooking, culture, arts and history and books for children. Website http://www.ganeshabooksbali.com for ordering from a comprehensive online catalog. Hours: 9 am – 8 pm daily. Tel. 0361970320. Another Ganesha Bookshop inside Biku Restaurant at Jl. Petitenget 888 is open 8 am – 11pm every day. The Ganesha Bookshop in Sanur (Jl. Danau Tamblingan 42) has a special area set aside as a reading room for young readers to help foster reading for pleasure in the local community.

Specialty Bookshops & Secondhand Books

Respectable collections of art books (of Balinese, Indonesian and expat artists), art catalogues and scholarly publications are sold at Agung Rai Museum of Art (ARMA), Jl. Raya Pengosekan, and at Neka Art Museum Bookshop, Jl. Raya Sanggingan. Threads of Life, Jl. Kajeng 24 (near the Ubud Palace), tel. 0361972187, stocks books on textiles, weaving and art. Hours: 10 am – 7 pm.

Enchanted Books, Jl. Raya Kerobokan 69 (tel. 0361734822) stocks a great selection of fiction, nonfiction, and bilingual Indonesian/English books for children from infant to 12 years old. Hours: 10 am – 6 pm daily. The reception area of The Yoga Barn (tel. 0361971236), a 10 minute walk south from KAFE down in Pengosekan, shelves the most extensive collection of yoga books on Bali, a whopping 75 titles, most imported from India. Hours: 7 am – 8pm.

Because of the literally millions of travellers and tourists passing through Bali, leaving vast quantities of used books in their wake, there is no shortage of used books available for trade or purchase. These books end up in hotels and eventually in permanent and semipermanent secondhand bookstores all over the island. You can usually return the books you buy to the same vendor and get back half of what you paid. But in spite of the deluge of books, don’t expect to buy them for next to nothing. Used books cost Rp.30,000 to Rp.50,000, and for new bestsellers as much as Rp.100,000. Nevertheless, you can often find books for free. In the lobbies or restaurant areas of small hotels guesthouses and homestays, travellers leave behind their books for others or for the hotel to make available for trading.

You are also sure to stumble across small makeshift stalls selling reasonably priced books of decent quality. In some cases, a seller’s stock is carried on the back of his motorbike. Look for bookstalls and portable vendors selling novels and travel books along Jl. 66 in Seminyak in front of the Lanai and Zanzibar restaurants, down Poppies Lane and on Jl. Raya on the way to the beach in Petitengat. Another popular little secondhand bookshop is just outside the back entrance to Bintang supermarket.

In each Ganesha Bookshop in Ubud, Petitinget and Sanur are glassed cabinets containing unusual, rare and outofprint titles on Indonesian history, politics, art, literature, and travel narratives. Used books sold in all 3 stores are returnable for a 50% buy back. Anita and Ketut may be contacted by email: info@ganeshabooksbali.com, by tel. 0361970320 or on Facebook (Ganesha Bookshop).

Anyone who loves secondhand books — from romance and bodicerippers to serious academic titles and quality trade paperbacks — will gravitate to Susan’s Book Swap at Dijon, Jl. Kuta Poleng Mall, tel. 0361759636, email: dijonfs@indosat. net.id, near the big Simpang Siur roundabout. This popular event takes place on the last Saturday of each month (subject to change) between 1 pm and 4 pm. You can take away as many books as you came with, except for children’s books that can only be traded on a oneforone basis.

Book Clubs & Libraries

It’s no coincidence that the Ubud Writer’s & Readers Festival, which draws book lovers from all over the world, sprang to life in Ubud — a village bibliophiles. Attracting a more cultureoriented longterm resident and traveller, Ubud is awash with bookstores selling new and used books. It is the location of the island’s best independent bookshop, Ganesha, as well as excellent secondhand bookstores. Surprising finds can also be made in nontraditional bookselling venues such as Ubud Music, Jl. Raya Ubud and the Balispirit Shop. Even the Ubud Post Office sells books!

The Ubud Writers Group meets on the 2nd and 4th Thursday of each month from 10 am to midday at Bayu’s Kitchen in Penestanan. Attendance at meetings varies from five to 10 people. The group’s members have published three collections of stories and poems about life in Bali. For more information about UWG, email Steve Castley at stevecastley124@gmail.com.

The Ubud Children’s Library: This private nonprofit library in the Pondok Pekak compound shelves an extensive collection of children’s picture and activity books, approximately 4000 in English and 2000 in Indonesian. A full time bilingual children’s librarian provides English language lessons free of charge to local Balinese children, art activities on the weekends and storytelling during the week. The fee to borrow three books every two weeks is Rp.50,000 per annum plus a Rp.150,000 refundable deposit. Book group and school memberships are also available upon request. Hours: 10 am – 5pm Tuesday to Friday; 10 am – 6 pm Saturday and Sunday. For further information: tel. 0361976194, email: ubudchildrenlibrary@yahoo.co.id.

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Meet Judy Chapman. The Author of “My Singapore Lover”, a contemporary love story in which Singapore is the main character.

Was “My Singapore Lover” inspired by personal experience?
This is definitely a work of fiction, however I have personally experienced aspects in the story, including the martial arts journey, living in hotel suites, and Singapore of course. I wrote the first draft in three weeks around seven years ago when I was living in Singapore. It is a contemporary love story set in Singapore, the story is told mostly from a hotel suite over a twenty-four hour period and I have definitely had my fair share of hotel suites – in Singapore I was the Editor in Chief for Spa Asia magazine and travelled the world reporting on spa openings. It was an enriching time.

Who are your literary influences?
I am passionate about Haruki Murakami, a beautiful contemporary Japanese writer and Paulo Coelho’s Eleven Minutes is one of my favourites. Right now I am reading a novel titled Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walters – it’s stunning. I’m more into film, though and my biggest dream is for one of my novels to be made into an edgy film. Well, one can only dream!

Is this your first publication?
This is my first novel, but my fifth book. My first four books were non-fiction that was a completely different journey. I knew from the age of eight years old that I wanted to write a novel, but like all of us, have been on many detours. It took quite a bit of focus and determination to make this novel happen.

What is your background?Where did you grow up?
I grew up in Byron Bay, Australia, a similar melting pot to Bali in terms of being a small community of many cultures, beliefs, religions, creative types, raw foodies, yogis – and both places offer a more relaxed and free lifestyle. My upbringing was typically alternative and consisted of trips to Bali and ashrams in India. Well, I tried my hardest to be ‘straight’ and wear a suit and carry a briefcase, but never succeeded in that. I did attend University in Melbourne for a while, but ended up working for The Melbourne Herald on the fashion pages, as I was impatient to get into the workforce. I started my own spa brand with my ex-fiancé when I was 23 years old and we opened spa stores around Australia – a very inspiring chapter of my life. After I published my first book, everything took off and this is when I moved to Southeast Asia and started writing about spas.

What brought you to Bali?
I first came to Bali back in the late seventies when there was only one western hotel. Over the last decade I have written and photographed two of my spa books in Bali and in 2012 completed my yoga teaching training course – so Bali has been a big part of my creative life. Last year you could find me tapping away at my novel from various organic cafés around Ubud, the perfect setting for any writer. I never expected to live here, but Bali has been my home base since I came here on assignment for a magazine to do a piece on Karma Resorts, and they kidnapped me to set up their spa brand, which is what I have been doing for the last five years in Bali – but I didn’t actually decide to live here and can be a reluctant expat in some ways. However, my day job involves lots of travel throughout Southeast Asia, setting up spas and creating bespoke treatment and retail concepts.

What is a Spa Curator?
That’s what I call myself because I didn’t want to be a Director or a Consultant – it’s not me at all. I resonate with Curator, as it feels more creative. I have been working in the wellness industry for twenty years now – writing about spas, creating natural products and working with architects and interior designers to dream up beautiful spa concepts. More recently I have learned about the business side of spas – so in many ways I now feel like I have a more holistic understanding of the spa business. It hasn’t been easy for a right-brain thinker, like myself, to learn about the financials, but it’s been a very rewarding journey. I now have great respect for both the business and the creative and understand the two cannot exist without each other. Overall I have created around twenty spas around the world including Australia, Europe, India, Thailand and right now I am developing spas in the Middle East that is a fascinating experience (a new backdrop for another novel perhaps?).

What are your other passions?
I am addicted to Pilates! It’s my sanctuary. I also love martial arts that I feature strongly in My Singapore Lover (the protagonist goes on a journey of learning martial arts that helps her grow). I am into healthy living, love travelling and contemporary art galleries, but my biggest passion is film. I love Asian directors, Deepa Mehtaand, Wong Kar-wai, as well as Sofia Coppola’s work.

Do you have another book planned?
My Singapore Lover is my first novel and a humble beginning (I hope reviewers are kind to me). Whatever happens from here, I feel so blessed to have come this far and get a publishing deal. My next novel (which I actually wrote first), is set in the Himalayas and is more of an epic mystical-adventure-romance with subtle spiritual tones. There’s a little bit of martial arts in this second novel, as well as this modality has personally been an important part of my own growth.

Will you be at the upcoming Readers and Writers Festival?
Yes! Drop by Three Monkeys Café in Ubud on Sunday 13th October at 4pm and all will be revealed – a free event with drinks and refreshments provided.

Thanks Judy!I look forward to seeing you at the Readers and Writers Festival!

‘My Singapore Lover’ is available at Periplus Bookstores and will be available online at Amazon and iBooks.

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Gamelan

As Pak Parno threads his way through the gamelan, he claps his hands to guide the tempo and calls out to beginners who have lost their place in the music. Eyes focus on notes as mallets tap out a lancaran or simple song. The cyclical melody is carried by the metallophones, embellished by the ringing tones of bronze, knobbed kettles. This is punctuated by hanging gongs and led by the beating of the kendhang drum. Repetitive lines pulse on counts of two and four. These crescendo and accelerate before winding down to pause for the strike of the massive gong gede, followed by the musicians’ final note. It is mesmerizing music.

The players awaken from their reverie to see three newcomers have arrived. They are welcomed, and members call out, “Come on, it’s easy – everyone can play.”  The guests are handed music and encouraged to sit on cushions in front of the saron, an easy instrument. After some quick instruction, the newbies play along, and smiles of accomplishment bloom on each face. This is the joy of gamelan.

Pak Parno has taught this gamelan group in South Jakarta for eight years, but he prefers another term. “I don’t teach,” he says, “I help people to learn. I am happy and love the arts.” The wizened instructor began studying gamelan, or Indonesian orchestra, more than four decades ago, and he plays professionally throughout the country. The group boasts both accomplished and novice players, who enjoy Pak Parno’s gentle direction.

After two years, expat Cheryl Parker has gained the confidence and competence to play the bonang, two rows of bronze kettle gongs. These horizontal gongs can introduce a beginner’s song and elaborate with a countermelody. “I joined this group to do something cultural,” she says. “You can pick it up quite easily. Gamelan is a calming break, rather hypnotic.”

Andrew and Ashley Goldman from England agree. “It’s a stress relief to concentrate on one thing. And you must concentrate, or you’ll get lost,” Ashley says with a laugh.

Gender

Gamelan is the indigenous instrumental ensemble of Indonesia, with variations from the islands of Bali and Java. The music is a hallmark part of puppet performances, traditional dance ceremonies, rituals and orchestral productions.

The gamelan consists of various gongs, which are suspended or flat, plus tuned, metal instruments struck with padded mallets, called tabu. Gamelan instruments generally fall into three types: balungan or melody, elaborating and punctuating. Balungan instruments create a song’s skeleton through various xylophones or saron tuned in octaves. These are easy for beginners to play. The percussive punctuating instruments are gongs, either suspended from a frame or enormous, horizontal kettles. They are struck at rigidly defined places in the melody, and the largest gong marks the end of each rhythmic line as well as the song’s completion. The elaborating instruments include two sizes of bonang, plus a zither, violin and bamboo flute. There can also be a singer. These elements independently weave texture over the melody within established guidelines. Lastly, the kendhang drums pace the song.

Each gamelan is a unique entity, with instruments tuned to one another as opposed to a standard. There are two tunings or lara, comparable to Western music’s major and minor keys. These are pelog and slendro, respectively. The two instruments’ tunings are set at right angles to one another in the gamelan.

Gamelan instruments are treated with the utmost respect by all people for their traditional and spiritual nature. Musicians do not wear shoes when they play and tread carefully, so as not to step over any instruments.

Kendhang

Periodically, during rehearsals, someone in the group calls out, “All change.” At that, the musicians move from one instrument to another. Some are cautious about trying something new, but others, like Ashley Goldman, eagerly jump at the opportunity to move from the saron to the kenong. The huge, gong pots are like a Western drum kit with more options. Everyone is urged to have a go at any instrument, though some take more practice. There is no pressure for perfection, just pleasure in participating and learning.

American Carol Walker heads up this Javanese gamelan group, helping others to delight in Indonesian culture through music. She and Tim Buehrer have grown their collection of pelog and slendro instruments since 1995, and the complete orchestra crowds one large room. “At times, the gamelan is half Indonesian and half expat – it’s a revolving door of musicians,” says Walker. Some come for the social night out, and the goal for others is to advance their musicianship. “Everybody is welcome here and possibilities for performing opportunities do arise.” These provide goals for practice.

Originally, the term gamelan was a broad one, encompassing a wide variety of music. Indonesians appreciated foreign instruments and styles and adopted their use. Over time, however, the rise of Western musical categories branded a standard form of gamelan music. It is enjoying a resurgence of interest in classes like Walker’s.

As the evening closes out, people chat, and a Western tune replaces the cyclical gamelan songs still swirling in many heads. Walker immediately recognizes it and grins. Pak Paron is jamming on a saron demung while a group member picks out the jazzy notes of When the Saints Go Marching In on a banjo. It is a madcap, magical moment. And originally gamelan.

To join the gamelan group, contact: jakartagamelan@gmail.com

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