Batik artist Ardianto amasses objects of desire

Batik artist Ardianto amasses objects of desire

By Dini S. Djalal

YOGYAKARTA (JP): Ardianto Pranata is worried. He looks at the
object before him, a bright green sculpture sitting on a podium
of red bricks, and nervously asks: "Do you think it looks good
there? For so long I've been thinking of where it belongs."

It's a curious question because in this vast, 6,000-square-
meter compound, there are, by Ardianto's own count, 6,000
artworks.

Amused by his own purchasing power, he says: "I have 800 old
cloths, 800 ceramics, so much stuff!"

That's more artifacts than some small museums.

So head-turning is Ardianto's eye for decoration that the new
architecture tome, Java Style, devoted heavy coverage to the
treasure trove of collectibles.

"That book! Now people come here all the time from all over
just wanting to see my house! Some even ask to buy my antiques,
but I tell them that they're not for sale," Ardianto smiled.

There are good for sale, but they're more fragile than the
carvings on the walls. Turn another statue-lined corner and one
begins to understand how this modern-day palace construction
achieved its opulence.

On ornate teak benches and cabinets are piles of the finest
batiks in all fabrics and colors, from deepest purples to
brightest blues. Down the corridor are pillows, throws and
blankets, all bearing batik motifs.

Peek at the price tags, now bearing dollar signs, and learn
the second reason why Ardianto's abode, located on the outskirts
of Yogyakarta on the road to Magelang, is an antique dealer's
paradise.

"I make the fourth most expensive batiks in Indonesia, after
Baron, Obin (Josephine Komara),and Iwan Tirta," Ardianto said
proudly before inspecting another exquisite cloth.

As he glides the silk through his hands, the third reason for
Ardianto's wealth becomes clear: Ardianto is not just an artist,
he's a perfectionist.

Looking at a woman, one of dozens in his employ, batiking a
cloth, Ardianto reminds: "Finer, finer. The work should be
finer". Rummaging through a stack of samples to be photographed,
he repeatedly says "Ordinary" or "Not good enough" before finding
the odd batik that suits his standards.

Ardianto has such high standards that he admitted even he
can't meet them. When asked about his export business, he
answers, "I wouldn't call it an export business. I don't produce
the volumes that an export business requires."

Producing fine batik, says Ardianto, is time-consuming -- a
good cloth requires weeks of drawing, dyeing and waxing -- and
unchecked expansion may lead to a downgrade in quality.

Dollars

In today's mad search for the almighty dollar, however, more
exports would be a godsend. Yet Ardianto is happy with business,
at least since he changed prices from rupiah to the greenback.

The move was recent, and only after his margins took a beating
from the rupiah plunge. And not only cash flow has been affected
by the currency crisis -- sometimes it's hard to just continue
production.

In the last months, Ardianto has literally begged his regular
fabric suppliers for material because they refuse to sell their
goods. Afraid of losing money by giving too low of a price,
fabric suppliers would rather hoard their stocks than amass a
mound of depreciated rupiah.

"I had to force them to sell me fabrics, especially imported
silks. It's crazy, because we need to produce or else our staff
doesn't eat," he said.

Now Ardianto buys lowered volume of silks (because of
skyrocketing prices) but produces finer work. It is a better
attitude than other manufacturers and suppliers, whose morale has
been hurt by slumping sales.

"Manufacturers are not serious now, because they produce goods
but no one will buy. So suppliers won't sell because even if they
sell fabrics cheaply, no one is buying," he said.

Ardianto has a more positive approach. Sales may be slower,
but profits are better.

"When we changed the prices to dollars, sure the sales dropped
dramatically. But it balances out because we make up for it in
income."

Yogyakarta's constant flow of tourists, said Ardianto, still
buy batiks at normal prices but cash-strapped locals are given a
lower exchange rate. "People know they can still bargain with
me," Ardianto grinned.

Plants to painting

It's confidence mixed with cunning, for success needs more
than just talent. Ardianto, now 53, came into the batik business
by chance, but he applied himself to the craft with the same
obsessiveness he has toward plants and other greenery --
Ardianto's university years were spent learning agricultural
technology at Yogyakarta's Gadjah Mada University.

Yogyakarta then, as it is now, was a hippie haven. And at
Ardianto's small restaurant, these tourists would discuss their
fascination with Javanese culture.

"They were all learning batik, and I thought, I live here and
I don't even know batik," said Ardianto.

Curious, he took a month-long batik course with his hippie
friends, some of whom were American soldiers returning from
Vietnam. The next time he met one colleague, it was during a
batik exhibition in the U.S.

"I said to my friend, now it's my turn to teach you how to
make better batik!" laughed Ardianto.

From batik, Ardianto moved on to painting. His colorful
abstracts have since made him an accomplished artist, staging
solo exhibitions as well being showcased in art biennials.

Batik, he said, was one way of expressing his creativity, "but
batik artists are considered craftsmen and I wanted to be a real
artist". So again, Ardianto plunged wholeheartedly into his new
passion as "I forced myself to paint."

Now, Ardianto's paintings sell for upwards of US$2,000. But
dollar signs are not important, explained Ardianto: "My prices
are flexible because painting is a hobby. As long as there is a
sense of appreciation, I am happy."

Thus, his income is two-fold; painting is the butter, batik
the bread. Batik keeps Ardianto busy as he heads the national
coalition of textile design schools, and he arranged the
International Batik Conference in Yogyakarta last November before
rushing off to attend a similar conference in China.

Although he is a member of the Association of Indonesian
Fashion Designers and Manufacturers (APPMI), he is quick to say
that he is a batik artist, not a fashion designer. And despite
the fact that Indonesia is steeped in the batik tradition,
Ardianto says there are not more batik artists because "it's
easier to call yourself a fashion designer than a textile
designer".

There's a slight note of disdain when Ardianto speaks of the
fashion industry, perhaps because the industry has often spoken
ill of him. "I used to be made fun of. The other designers would
call me provincial, that my vocabulary was lacking."

The condescension didn't deter him, however -- it just made
him more determined.

"(The late designer) Prajudi told me that I was lucky to live
in Yogyakarta, because here I can have status while in Jakarta I
would just have a headache! Here I can sell my batiks to Jakarta
and all over the world, but live large with less money."

And in Yogyakarta, he doesn't have to compete with many other
designers for choice clients.

"I feel very lucky here. When Hillary Clinton was here, she
came to visit me. If I lived in Jakarta, she probably would have
gone somewhere else!"