An homage to the life and career of Popo Iskandar

By Wawan S. Husin

BANDUNG (JP): If and only if Popo Iskandar had not been born into a Sundanese family in Garut, West Java, and instead born among the American Indian tribes, his name might have been Light Fire, Lightfoot, Brave Mustang, Dancing Wolf, or even Great Cat.

If, and only if, I were a witch doctor among those tribes, or a godfather of the baby, I would have chosen his name: Great Cat. This habit of giving, or rather choosing, a baby's name from elements of nature or animals comes from their close relationship with Mother Nature and their dependency on her.

Above all, they are still in tune with nature. "But what is in a name," said Shakespeare (1564-1616), when he pointed out that a rose by any other name would still smell good.

Yes, that's absolutely right. And the famous adage or proverb in Indonesia, which translates "Upon death, a tiger leaves his striped skin, an elephant its tusks and a human leaves his name behind". How about Popo? He certainly left behind his name. His famous and good name.

It was on Saturday evening, Jan. 29, 2000, at about 6:30 p.m. when I was preparing for the magrib evening prayer when the phone rang. On the other end, Ardiyanto -- a fine artist in Bandung -- told me in a trembling voice, "Pak Popo passed away at 6:15 at the hospital, could you tell our friends ... and could you come to his studio?" Click. And the phone was dead.

I hurriedly called a couple of friends like Tisna Sanjaya and Priyanto S. (and his wife too).

Having prayed, I soon got to go to Popo's studio. Popo's house is a one-minute walk from Bandung's Teachers College (UPI) complex. He was once a lecturer at the institution. The house had been readied to welcome the Great Cat.

I arrived there, and sat in his quite large studio. His paintings were there, on the wall. The frames and unframed paintings were leaning against the walls, lining them. There were hundreds of them. The windows were not yet closed and there was a breeze in the room. Tubes of paint of different colors were in a mess.

So the Guru -- Mamannoor, a critic, called him by such a name -- has passed away. He has returned to the prairie of eternity. He has closed his book and the story has come to an end after he finished his journey of mortality.

Popo is survived by 11 children and 14 grandchildren. A couple of sisters and sister-in-laws and brother-in-laws and other kin. He left a big family, a collection of cameras, cassettes, books, pets and a lot of fish in ponds.

Popo had everything: family, good neighbors, a good community of well-bread and well-to-do people, a loving and beloved family, close friends and students.

Well, the recipient of the government 1990 Arts Award proved to be a Colossus in his field. He was loyal to his choice as an artist, even in the nadir of his life. He was a survivor of when the life of an artist was far from glamorous, when life was a time of hardship and difficulty, especially between the 1950s and 1970s.

He had been in the hospital for two days when he was felled by heart disease.

I remember a year ago when he was busy with his team in preparing his retrospective exhibition in the National Gallery, Jakarta. He went to the gallery late at night and checked everything himself.

His retrospective exhibition (From Feb. 5 to Feb. 15, 1999) proved to be a success. More than 1,000 people went to the exhibition, and it was covered by 34 print media and five TV stations.

He had been painting for 55 years, during which time I can remember Kirk Douglas on the wide screen and Sammy Davis Jr. in the U.S., and Ibu Sawitri, a great Topeng dancer in Cirebon. My goodness.

The exhibition was opened by Edy Sedyawati, the then director general of culture. It was a very touching night. He sat listening to actor Iman Soleh read a poem by Sonny Farid.

That rainy Saturday night of Jan. 29, 2000, Popo, an alumni of Bandung Institute of Technology, was taken from his family and friends and students.

The night was one of lamenting. The dead body laid there. Nude and soft. Not rigid, for rigor mortise had not yet set in. This was the body of the Great Cat. So silent was the night.

The red eyes of people were watery. Tears. Crying. And the wind was blowing the leaves and flowers around the studio. Lullabying his dead body. So white, so clean and so soft. His face is like a baby. Cheerful and very touching. He is sleeping in eternity. We dried his body and wrapped him in kain kaffan (white cloth).

Popo had been painting since his last solo exhibition aforementioned. "There are about 40 paintings and lots of sketches he has created since then ..." said Ardiyanto.

"That's right and he had been very busy painting since then. He often got up at night and painted until dawn. He painted one in this story of the house instead of in his studio. But he enjoyed it very much. I think he was on a mission, I didn't realize it before ..." said Susiana Iskandar, his second child and oldest daughter.

Hidayat, head of the School of Arts and Design at UPI Bandung, regards him as a teacher who dared to trust his students. He was Popo's assistant lecturer for 15 years and witnessed how Popo cooperated, and how he taught him wholeheartedly.

To Tubagus Andree, a young curator at the National Gallery, Popo Iskandar was "An artist with great talent. He read books, learned philosophies and could speak and discuss intelligently. His writing was also of high caliber. He was not only a fine artist, he was a cultural observer. He had a strong image that made people listen to him."

Ardiyanto says, "To me he was a critic, a guru, and a good partner for discussion. After his retirement he often discussed many things with the young. I often talked with him. He read a lot of books about modernism in local and mainstream trends. I liked him."

Tisna Sanjaya says, "... His cat paintings are very strong. They are a like a metaphor about he-ness, anger, resistance, roaring to life. There is something more than lines and shapes of colors. Appreciators of his paintings must be aware of this strength otherwise they will miss the glory, the magnificence of his paintings. Discussions about his paintings must involve the humanness of life. Cats were only his bridge to speak about human beings."

Erwan (writer of Titian Seni) stated, "Popo was not selfish. He shared his experiences and knowledge in a very elegant manner. He did not instruct people. He let people grow. Popo once told me that in writing -- and painting as well -- psychology and characterization of figures should be the focus. These two aspects have been marks and signs of great novels."

Those who knew Popo will remember him in hundreds of ways.

Popo was an egalitarian and existential artist. He regarded other people as unique and full of possibility. On one occasion he stated, "All people have their own talent. You can do what I cannot do and so others will gain different strengths from you and me."

From this point of view, Popo was right and this is in line with the old Sundanese philosophy of Ngaji diri (read thyself), an old adage of the journey to self-awareness and enlightenment. This is also in line with the saying of Prophet Muhammad: "Know thyself and you will know thy God."

Well. The Big Cat has returned home, to the Owner of Life. He has left us behind in the world of contemporary problems. What he left for us was all the memories and his history. His works will become a new enigma to be solved. His path will also become a mirror for those who come after him.