LEFT FROM TOP:
Four Seasons
Resort Bali at
Sayan; bamboo
hands made for the
Ngrupuk parade
in a community
centre, Ubud
ABOVE: Wood
carving, Taksu Bali
Art Gallery, Ubud
October 2019 119BALIwork on detailed paintings the size of an
envelope. They’re sweating and it’s not just
the humidity. The youngest, aged just 10,
painstakingly outlines the shape of tropical
birds no bigger than rice grains; the 12-year-
old shades a lotus-levitating Ganesh, while
a diligent teen colours the smouldering
volcanic peak of Bali’s iconic Mount Agung.
I spot what looks like a classic peasants-
in-the-rice-paddy scene, until I concentrate
a little harder and see farmers not wearing
traditional batik sarongs, but Nike T-shirts.
In a coastal landscape, Caucasian bathers
spill out of bikinis you could it on a pencil
tip and pea-sized aeroplanes disgorge
luggage-trailing tourists.
“Keliki style began in the 1970s with classic
scenes of pastoral life and Hindu stories, but
it had to adapt to be relevant to life in Bali
now,” says Gama, the young artist-founder
of the school. This impressive non-proit is
keeping Keliki painting alive — it’s tutored
countless local children and is among a
thriving community of traditional wood-
carvers, mask makers and sculptors.
Traditionally, Bali’s artists are polymaths
of music, dance and ine arts; painting as a
standalone form, largely a European import,
has been transformed since the 1930s from
folksy depictions to abstract and conceptual
works. Yet the island’s contemporary artists
are oten still magniicently multidisciplinary.“His styles and interests changed so rapidly
— every four or ive years,” says Buratwangi
(‘Bee’), of her father I Made Wianta, the
septuagenarian maverick widely considered
Bali’s contemporary art pioneer. “If he wasn’t
an artist, he’d be a librarian,” she jokes, as we
tour Wianta’s archive in the basement studio
of the family’s home in Denpasar.
Tens of thousands of densely patterned
sketches, bold-stroke abstract paintings,
set-designs for theatre productions and
poems line loor-to-ceiling shelves. Parking
tickets and ripped newspaper are as
numerous as canvas — Wianta works with
whatever’s to hand. He’s transformed fragrant
plant roots into huge pieces of sculpture,
car exhaust pipes into an installation. “For
a while he was inluenced by Japanese
calligraphy,” says Bee, leaing through pages
of Wianta’s energetically painted lettering.
“They don’t mean anything. It’s a made-up
language,” she laughs. “His mind works
diferently to most people’s. Truly. He sort of
dances as he works. When he was in Japan, a
neuroscientist became so fascinated with his
method, he scanned his brain.”
It turns out Wianta’s working mind enters
a trance-like state akin to deeply meditating
monks. “It’s funny,” says his wife, who’s
joined us. “His family always wanted him
to be a priest — yet he still ended up using
his taksu.” The unique Balinese concept