Sarawak News, TheSundayPost - Sunday, July 20, 2008 10:00 - 0 Comments

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Crafty direction

WHEN the Sarawak Tourism Board (STB) decided to move in a new direction for the 11th edition of the Rainforest World Music Festival (RWMF), they called on Heidi Munan.

The respected writer and keen observer of Malaysian culture, with such books as ‘Beads of Borneo’ and ‘Culture Shock! Malaysia’, was the perfect candidate for the post of Rainforest World Craft Bazaar (RWCB) director, a project that could possibly put Sarawak on the map as not only a cultural and musical destination, but an arts and crafts one as well.

Spanning from July 9 to 15, the RWCB ran alongside RWMF, bringing together a modest but broad-ranging collection of craftspeople — from Japan to Kyrgyzstan, Sabah and India — their wares not only displayed an aspect of their cultural identity, but also an eclectic range of styles, from traditional articles like Sabah’s basket-weaving to contemporary ones like Chiisano Asato’s handmade dolls inspired by Japanese pop culture.

With 38 booths rented and a separate exhibition area for the Indonesians who put up a strong front with at least 10 stalls this year, RWCB is targeting 100 booths next year with the hopes of recruiting more craftspeople from other countries like Thailand or the Phillippines. Besides increasing the diversity of handicrafts, it would make the RWCB the biggest crafts forum in the Southeast Asian region.

“If you’re promoting crafts, you shouldn’t just create it specifically for the museum,” Munan says of the traditional handicrafts scene. We’re sitting at the Kadaiku (Sabah) stall, watching a woman weave the base of a basket.

“Today’s handicrafts are also about incorporating your traditional skills into modern design. Look at that basket, for example,” she says as she indicates at the selection of finely woven baskets nearby.

Simple, squat and round like snake baskets, the economy of colour and decoration makes them appealing and contemporary. Munan points out that these baskets could easily be used for our modern-day lifestyle.

Munan very much believes in the usefulness and practicality of traditional handicrafts, acknowledging that they are often overlooked by Malaysia’s increasingly ‘kiasu’ culture and our nonchalant view of the craft forum in general.

“Half of the trouble with handicrafts in Malaysia is the perception that it’s something old ladies do, so nobody thinks that you can make a living out of making and selling handicrafts.”

RWCB aims to not only create exposure for our local handicrafts on the international scene without having to send local artisans abroad, but also to generate interest and a market for our traditionally-inspired ware.

For example, items at several stalls were sold out by the third day of the festival to a corporate buyer, indicating how relevant handicrafts remain in this day of space-age electronics.

With the advent of the phrase ‘tourist trap’, however, one has to wonder whether this would somehow alter or compromise the authenticity of traditional crafts.

Munan mulls this question over but seems more bemused than uncertain. “Not at all,” she says, pointing out that bartering in knowledge and goods has long been a part of the cultural make-up of any race.

“Traditional handicrafts used to fulfil a certain function in our daily lives. In the headhunting days, there used to be a basket specifically woven to hold skulls in it. Now that we don’t do that anymore, then the basket no longer has a purpose and has fallen out of memory. To preserve our handicrafts, we have to find ways in which we can use it in this modern day.”

Danish basket-weaver Susanna Kampp shares a similar example of how traditional crafts can’t just survive on aesthetic and cultural significance alone.

Made of reed, her baskets are the type you would imagine Little Red Riding Hood using. As we speak she weaves a baby’s rattle.

“In Denmark, the local basket-weaving industry was dying. Since the salary for basket-weavers in Denmark was very high, vendors were importing baskets from elsewhere.

“Then interest in traditional Danish baskets had a resurgence, leading to the Danish Basketmakers’ Society, where most of the members attended the workshops and learnt how to do it as a hobby. Of all these members, seven or eight of them survive on basket-weaving alone, teaching courses and selling their baskets.”

She then hands me a thick catalogue of the Danish Basketmakers’ Society’s exhibitions, which shows a remarkable display of ingenuity and creativity in the weaved form, proving that far from dying out, the medium has evolved to fulfil a different purpose altogether.

“This exhibition was set up to inspire people. Basket-weaving is no longer just utilitarian, it also fulfils a creative function. When you sell a basket, you sell a piece of art. Even today, people have started using baskets again to carry things in.”

For those who consider handicrafts a low form of art or part of the tourist trap, one has to consider the amount of preparation and skill it demands.

In Kampp’s case, she collects the reeds in the autumn when the leaves have fallen off and then soaks them in water for six to 10 days to get the flexibility she wants before she begins crafting them.

This amount of effort pales in comparison to what other weavers have to do when preparing rattan or bamboo for weaving. Between the thorns, sharp edges and transporting the raw material, a lot of physical effort is required before one can sit down and actually craft a pattern out.

Nabilah Abdullah’s Iban ceramic pottery is a great testament to how traditional items can undergo change and evolution without sacrificing its essence — the way it is crafted. She learnt the craft from a longhouse in Lubok Antu and now operates her own factory in Demak Laut Industrial Park.

She shows me a round earthenware jar which she moulds with a round stone from the inside, patiently tapping out the shape with traditional paddles specifically made for pottery.

“The etching and silver glaze are my own touch,” she says proudly. Her additions to the basic shape, whether it’s a round jar or a coil-style vase, show how creative integrity can lift the everyday item to a stylised art form and bring to light the different types of crafts there are outside of Kuching.

For Yusof Rasal, a local artisan based in Lundu, his belian woodcarving is an art form in preparation, inspiration and craft. He rhythmically chisels at a soon-to-be fruit bowl as a large head-carving sits grimacing monstrously at passers-by. A carver for eight years, Yusof collects belian driftwood or fallen trees in the jungle, stressing that he would never deliberately chop a tree down for his craft.

“These trees are thousands of years old and as such you have to respect them,” he explains, believing that one has to first possess the spiritual strength to carve in this medium.

He’s talking about ‘semangat’ and the spiritual potency that the medium possesses. “Carving in belian wood is taxing on the soul. I’ve had several apprentices, but they’ve only stayed with me for a few months at a time before they either fall sick or don’t have the strength to continue.”

In some cases he’ll offer a prayer before he carves the wood, but otherwise remains unaffected. As such, he doesn’t know what the end product will be when he begins, somehow letting the form speak to him as he’s carving.

“When I go to the jungle with a helper to cut a portion of a fallen tree away, I have to really concentrate on its form first. You can’t just chop it up in pieces and then take it home, it’ll lose its potential.”

At the end of the five-day bazaar, Munan is optimistic and happy with the end results. Many stalls are sold out and others have made significant sales proving the market potential of handicrafts.

“I sent around a questionnaire to all the vendors asking how we can improve, and on the last note when I asked whether they would come back again, they all said ‘yes’ and even said that they would rent a double booth for next year.”