Gamelan king has no successor

Gamelan king has no successor

Bambang M, Contributor, Yogyakarta

At 73, Trimanto lives up to his image as a true ironman. His
extraordinary dedication to making gamelan (Javanese musical
instruments) has earned him the honorific, empu, or master
craftsman.

He is still strong enough to forge the bronze pieces, striking
them with a 5-kilogram hammer in front of a traditional furnace
to make the best traditional musical instruments.

To date he may be the only person throughout Yogyakarta, and
perhaps the entire country, who deserves the title empu in
gamelan-making. His full honorific name is Empu Triwiguna.

The gamelan that Trimanto makes are used not only in Indonesia
but also in Argentina, Finland, Japan and Australia.

"The gamelan is multipurpose. It also serves as a means of
communication between nations," said Trimanto, a father of eight.

Trimanto inherited the skill of gamelan-making from his
father, Karto Wiguno. Of seven siblings, only he, like his
father, has followed in his father's footsteps.

"Of all my siblings, I happen to be closest to dad," he said.

When Karto Wiguno was making gamelan instruments, he often
asked young Trimanto to help him. "That's how I inherited his
skill," said Trimanto, who now has 18 grandchildren of his own.

It was not until 1968 that he devoted himself to professional
gamelan-making. Before, Trimanto, who fought during the struggle
for independence as a member of the Student Troops, was an
elementary school teacher. His meager income prompted him to try
his luck making gamelan instruments.

At first he used scrap iron to make simple instruments, which
he later sold at the roadside. Rising demand convinced him that
gamelan-making was his future. He found someone very helpful to
his career: Purwokusumo, the then Yogyakarta mayor.

While he was making a name for himself, the government asked
him to move to the Yogyakarta office of the ministry of education
and culture and assigned him to help develop the art.

Then, in 1980, Trimanto was also asked to introduce a
traditional Javanese music program to the Academy of Dancing Art
(ASTI) in Yogyakarta. Later, the academy was merged into the
Indonesian Institute of Arts (ISI) of Yogyakarta.

Trimanto was a teacher by training. When in high school,
Trimanto studied at a teacher training high school (PGSLP) in
Yogyakarta, with a special interest in history and geography.

Trimanto's heyday as a gamelan-maker spanned the years from
the early 1970s to 1997, when an economic crisis began to hit
Indonesia. He set up his firm, CV Pradangga Yasa, and had 65
employees during the good years. He used to have hundreds of
contract workers. The firm also received orders for church bells
and bedug (a large drum suspended horizontally at a mosque to
summon the faithful to prayer) as well as requests for the repair
of gamelan instruments.

When making a gamelan instrument, Trimanto sticks strictly to
the tradition of his ancestors. Among other things, before making
a gong, he must first slaughter a rooster for a ceremonial meal.
Gamelan-makers believe that without this ceremonial meal, they
will never succeed in making a perfect gong.

"A gong is the most difficult instrument to make because the
material (bronze) weighs dozens of kilograms," said Trimanto. A
gong holds a very special position among the 46 instruments that
make up a gamelan set. It is struck only when the gamelan's sound
has reached its "peak of perfection."

"A gong must be made perfect. Without a ceremonial meal, that
ideal cannot be achieved," he added.

The Javanese believe that life, like a turning wheel, moves up
and down. This is also the case in Trimanto's profession as a
gamelan-maker. His business declined when the country was in the
grip of an economic crisis. During that dark period, he received
virtually no orders for gamelan, a set of which can cost several
hundred million rupiah.

"Since the onset of the economic crisis, I have received only
one order and that was from the Semarang branch of the state
television station," he said.

When business is low, he has to lay off his workers. Only six
still help him now. They can all make gamelan instruments. He
said it would take 15 to 20 years to groom a worker to become a
good gamelan-maker.

"I'd be really ashamed if I had to close down my business
because I received no orders any more. Anyway, I must preserve
this skill," he said.

As he has persevered in that aim, Unesco awarded him a
citation in 2000. Recently, he also received a citation from
Yogyakarta Governor Sri Sultan Hamengku Buwono X. He has received
dozens of citations throughout his career.

Although the economic crisis still persists, his workshop in
Papringan, Yogyakarta (behind Affandi Museum) is now under
renovation.

"My children are funding the renovation," he said. The parking
lot has been extended to accommodate more motorized vehicles
carrying tourists wishing to observe how a gamelan is made. "I'm
sure the economy will a recover soon and business will flourish
again as before," he said.

Among his masterpieces is a 2.5-ton gong, with a diameter of 6
meters, which was struck to mark New Year's Eve 2000 at Jaya
Ancol Dream Park.

"I don't want my name to be recorded by MURI (Indonesia's
Museum of Records) because it was the park management that funded
everything; let MURI record their name," the modest empu said.

In fact, Trimanto has also been included in MURI because in
2001 he made a giant bedug measuring 2.02 meters in diameter, 4
meters long, 2 meters high and weighing 1 ton. It was also
Trimanto who came up with the idea of organizing a street gamelan
concert in Yogyakarta.

Trimanto, who likes sports, spends much of his time comforting
his wife, who suffered a stroke a few years ago.

He uses gamelan music as therapy for his wife. He believes
that the melodious sound of gamelan has the power to cure
ailments.

At about 11 a.m., Trimanto regularly takes his wife out to one
of their favorite restaurants. "Thank God, my wife now shows
signs of recovery," he said, always referring to his wife as his
"girl friend."

Unfortunately, the empu has no heir apparent. None of his
eight children have shown a desire to enter the profession.

But Trimanto is not worried because some of his former assistants
have now started their own gamelan-making businesses.

"When the time comes, I'm sure one of my children will step
into my shoes," he said, getting ready to take his "girl friend"
out.