Mella's artwork lifts cover on prejudice and ignorance

Mella's artwork lifts cover on prejudice and ignorance

Carla Bianpoen, Contributor, Jakarta

Mella Jaarsma's tent positioned amid the National Gallery's
exhibition space here might have evoked some surprised reactions
among the thousands of visitors to the month-long CP Open
Biennale.

More important is that they got to feel, albeit briefly, what
it is like to be a refugee by stepping into the structure made of
canvas, in the shape of a cloak and with a head and face cover
attached. Snugly fitting the human figure as though tailor-made,
it resembles the burqa Muslim women's head and body covering.

The installation Only for Refugee is made up of two tents set
against the background of a photograph. One of the tents contains
the minimal necessities grabbed by someone forced to flee their
home: a bar of soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush and a set of prayer
beads.

Even after visitors returned to the comfort of their homes,
the installation provided a poignant reminder of the plight of
refugees, estimated to number almost 15 million worldwide in
2001. It's especially relevant in this country, beset by
conflicts from west to east and with displaced people forced to
subsist in shoddy living conditions.

Melly's tents denote anxiety, the sensation of being confined
but with no place to go. With the selection of an almost
camouflage green as the color for one tent, the artist may have
been linking the issue of refugees with war and its perpetrators.

While the installation was meant to be interactive (the
Biennale closed last week), and children gladly played in and out
of the "tent", it stands for the feeling of uncertainty in a
world where anything can happen at any time.

The jilbab (head covering) and burqa have been Mella's
artistic metaphors ever since she tried to make audiences aware
of the issues imprisoning people in prejudice and hatred as the
consequence of self-centeredness and lack of communication.

"With my works I want to confront the audience with their own
existence, their memories and the cultural, religious, social and
political circumstances," said Mella, who as a foreigner living
here for almost 20 years knows how deeply rooted biases take a
firm grip on human behavior.

"I create art where people are a physical and psychological
part of the work and actively get an experience."

Intent on breaking through biases and taboos, this artist,
enriched by her crosscultural experiences and as a participant in
various international exhibitions, made her first attempt with
the jilbab in Hi Inlander, in which a person was clad in the
cloak that also covered the head and face up to the eyes.

The cloak was made of frog skin -- consumption of frog meat is
prohibited for Muslims but is a delicacy for the ethnic Chinese
-- while inlander was the Dutch colonists' dismissive term for
native Indonesians. The person inside the cloak had difficulty
breathing.

A cloak covering the body and face represents a dress code
signifying the group to which the person wearing it belongs. At
the same time, it conceals identity; Mella sees it as giving up
individuality and personal identity and becoming unapproachable
and untouchable from the "outsiders".

Cloaks made of animal skins have served to give people the
experience of being in another "skin". Mella made cloaks of
buffalo skins and horns, goat hair, cocoons and embroidered
emblems.

If it all looks quite confrontational, Mella argues that the
contrary is true.

"I am trying to open up dialog," she said. The way to do so
seems to be through challenging the viewers of her works to look
into their own existence.

Such has been Mella's obsession since the very beginning of
her artistic career when she searched for the expression of the
basic elements in life. Birth, growth and death include
breathing, listening, seeing, feeling, thinking, and so on. These
themes have filled her canvases, which in a way connect to her
current preoccupations with dialog.

Born in the Netherlands, Mella came here as an art student
almost 20 years ago. Initially fascinated by the light of the sun
that could make long shadows of your own figure, she later became
obsessed with the oil lamps producing shadows on the wall of the
little sidewalk eatery.

She married fellow artist Nindityo Adipurnomo and they set up
the Cemeti Gallery, later named Cemeti Art House, which has grown
into an important center for alternative contemporary Indonesian
art development.

Her works questioning racial, ethnic, religious and other
prejudices will continue to break through the glass ceiling of
entrenched attitudes at future exhibitions, and hopefully make us
think.