Posts Tagged With: loss

because we can make things happens, with our own bare hands

If you’re googling his image, you will only find one picture of him. But if you’re browsing about him, you will find hundreds of articles written about him. His works, mostly.

In Indonesian Cinema, he is known as one of those veteran who started out his career in the wardrobe and make-up department. Many young talents arrive on the surface nowadays, all agreed that he still remains as a person who maintain good enthusiasm at work, and most qualified art person you can find. Probably, like once he told me, because he loves his works.

If you have a chance to talk to him, you will find out in a second that even though he is old, he has a young heart. No matter who you are, from what department, when you come to him, for any purpose, he will relax you, make you feel like home and (this is the biggest treat) make you laugh.

I met him in GIE, 2004. I was just starting, worked as a Continuity Person. I worked my way from taking pictures behind the camera, in the wardrobe room, make-up room, on the set, for crowd or main talent, print the pictures, put them on the board, carrying it and laptop everywhere, all the long and wide excel worksheet, all you can imagine. Still, he memorized better. Every single detail, including wound on a face.

Once he hide my cell phone when it was a hectic day. Told me that I have to learn to laugh sometimes, it would be good for me. And even until now, I’m still working on it. He also taught me to think script wise, instead of frame wise or set wise, for continuity. ‘If you grab the story right, nothing would go wrong from there.’

Another project after that, I use his advice and I was able to remember each scenes in a feature film script. It took me (only) read the script twice and I have them all in my head, just like I’m the writer.

We met again in BALI PROJECT, where he worked in Wardrobe Department, and I worked as a Production Assistant for Art Department. To me he said, his department would be the last thing I have to taken care of, the last thing I should worry about. He suggested me to focused more on Art Department needs. Yet, his room still the best hiding room from hectic and chaos, where you’re guaranteed to get relax for a while and laugh over things really not important.

I occassionaly met him in a workshop KFJP held every 3 months. No matter what is the workshop topic at the time, he appears and again, pouring laugh between us who shared work experiences.

Once I came to him and tell him that I wanted him to write a book about Art, based on his experiences all this time. He was laughing out loud and told me that he doesn’t like to write, unless if he has to—like if it’s for work. But he understand that it’s important. Then we talked and agreed to work on a system: I will ask questions, he will answered, I will record all the interviews and make script out of it, then he and I can check it from time to time, together. He loved the idea, he can say whatever he wants and I’m the one who will need to write those down. Because, he said, he actually always wants to share, but didn’t really think that he has a lot to share.

I never have the time to do the interview. He always busy with work (and his travelling, so he said) and we never meet again since.

He passed away this afternoon, due to long illness he’s been fight for years, so I’ve informed. And all I can remember how he does things he has to do with heart, and this enriched his creations, fulfill people’s days with laugh, painted nice memories everyday and he still get—always—to be the only person you can find when you’re looking for the best Art Director.

So long, Oom Iri. I will miss your comment about my appearances, your sarcasm jokes about chaos on the floor, your handmade things—from clothes, accessories, etc—shows magic on the day shoot everyday, your glasses on your nose when it’s almost 5 pm, time to write your report, you said.

I will especially miss your words, once you told me when you were working with your handmade prop, ‘Indonesian people are smart, and I believe, is the most reliable crew in the world. Because we can make things happens, with our own bare hands.’

This is a very big loss for Indonesian Cinema.

God Bless You, Oom Iri Supit. May you Rest in Peace.

We all will miss you around.

Hugs.

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nothing left, nothing to complain

It was 2010. And I was planning for my next two years living. Continue my study to get master degree, continue on living my own simple life, working with people whose works I admire since so long, be a proud member of big-big family, continue on improving my self on the way. Maybe travelling, Asia, then Europe. Hmm…

In short, I was planning to live my life fully.

Thinking positive, I started to reach out for my friends, those who were needed help. One of them was my close friend, and in a desperate need of financial help. So I helped him. I loaned him my 10 years savings and even ask my other friend to also help him. He will return them back next month, I said to my self. So no worries. He’s my friend anyway.

One month passed and I haven’t seen my money back in my saving. He said, I need more time. Okay, I can wait for another month. No problem.

Three months later, I couldn’t find him anywhere. Not in the workplace he used to go, not in the house he once invited me to have dinner with, not even his pregnant wife. I couldn’t find him, even after make calls to everyone we both know. One day, I received one SMS. It says, “I’m sorry, Ranty. May God Bless You all the way. You are my angel for this. I’ll be forever in debt to you”. I called back, no answer.

I fell down the floor knowing there’s ‘angel’ word in the SMS. Only he who always call me ‘angel’. Only him. He’s gone. He took my savings, the loan from my other friend. He took away my 2 years plan, my 10 years cash-earned. My master degree, my living  the simple life, my everything.

He took my everything with him. This is hell.

Not one day passes without tears since then. I fall deep into blaming my own stupidity, my own naiveness, my own decisions. My head was like dead while my heart is crash down. Imagine those 10 years, ups and downs. Those crazy jobs. 10 years.

I’m screaming inside, and surrender to life. I got nothing left.

Today was my pay day. I earned almost nothing, but this is gonna be the last money I will send to my other friend who helped me to helped him, my runaway friend. He never knew a thing about my runaway friend. And it’s been so long since we talked in August 2010.

He called me just now and we have a little chat. I can’t help to cry and he asked me why. I told him that I finished the loan, that’s a big relieved. He laughs and told me that if someday I need help again, he will be happy to help.  Hearing this I know that he deserved the truth, so I told him everything. My savings, my friend, my ability to trust, my ability to see people again, my will to lead a full life through chances, all gone with the apologize my friend sent me by SMS. He was mad, and wish to know about this earlier from me. He said, I don’t deserve this. Well, nobody does.

I softly told him, I’m now only have couple bucks to live. Actually it’s like starting over again. All over again. I got nothing left.

As I wiped my tears, I told him, “but you see, now I’m learning about animation. My job is 12 hours/day, I don’t have time to cry or feeling sad. I make new friends, loses another, like usually. I’m loved by someone I respect a lot and he took good care of me while I got nothing to lean on. I have team at workplace that trusts my guts and believe my judgements for their sake. I’m now trying to complete my short movie. I got my books and precious songs, moments with close friends, sounds of my love on the phone everyday. Hell, I got my wine and the glass never empty”.

Yeah.

I got nothing left.

I got nothing to complain.

*God help me. Let me sleep tight tonight. Let me be home.

Categories: mess, thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

my first batik painting

Last January, after working under a lot of pressure a whole year, I took a little vacation to Yogya and decided to give my self a break. I actually looking for a short workshop make Batik (traditional Java fabric). Instead, I found one day Batik Painting workshop at Kelik’s House. Have you seen any Batik Painting? Here’s some gorgeous ones I found on the street of Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia.     

Indian Lady. Nice isn't it?

 …or maybe you will like this one too.    

Horses. Fabulous ones! I heart this one, cos those outlines are crazily beautiful!

Now I want to learn how to make one. Happy painting, guys!     
First thing first you must make sure that you’re using 100% cotton for the fabric canvas. Frame it with a simple wood and staples, just enough to keep canvas still. Then, you must drawing some sketch/outline on the canvas with a pencil because you’re a beginner), don’t push it too hard though, just a simple sketch/outline will do.   
Ready? Now with Canting filled with Malam, I started to draw the outline. There’s a way about how you hold Canting, so Malam won’t drop streamy or spill out and comes out exactly as needed. With a little practice, you will get used with how you hold Canting.     

Canting. Painters use them to draw outline over the pencil sketch.

Malam. Liquid to make outlines.

This is how you hold Canting, with Malam inside the little tube.

Now let’s make some outlines with Malam over those pencil outline I made. Careful, you don’t want to spill Malam all over the canvas 😉

drawing outline using Canting and Malam

Since not everybody is an artist, you may make some mistakes like I did. Some Malam dropped accidentally out of line (I swear I didn’t dropped Malam in purpose to mess the sketch :P), here and there. So my teacher taught me to erased spilled Malam using hot water and a knife. Hot water will make Malam comes off of canvas, while knife cleaned the rest of Malam. That’s easy 😀

erasing accidentally-spilled-out-malam, he he. watch that knife, pals...

Malam will get dried in a few minutes and wecome to the fun part! Coloring! My Teacher gave me some color options, I chose pink for the flower (so happy to know that it can be done in gradation colors), bright green for leaves, brown for branches and definite black for the background, so that pink color of the flowers will come out like ‘hellooooo…’  😉 I realized how important the outline was. It helped to keep colors inside their areas.     

Fun, fun, fun!

I waited for the colors to dry, when my teacher asked me if I want to add a texture for the painting. “What kind of texture?” I asked. Then he showed me of of the painting using textures. I spontaneously said, “Yes, yes, yes, I want that tures on my flower painting!” He laughed and gave me this Liquid chemical (I forgot the name, sorry :P), a simple version of Malam. So I cover all of the color areas with that Liquid and keep the white areas clean! 😀 Then, we put the canvas under the sun for a couple minutes.     

put canvas under the sun for 2-3 minutes

When Liquid chemical is half dried, I come to break those Liquid chemical cover, only on pink areas, cos I only want textures on pink areas. This will give a little channels for those black color and makes some texture. I had to do this under the sun and very careful, because too many textures will make it looks cheap (because it’s too much), and if there’s too little textures, it won’t shows on the painting.     

making channels for black colors to come in later, by breaking some liquid cover, carefully.

Some of Liquid cover now broken, I hoped textures will come nicely, not less and never too much more.     

…and it’s time for lunch!     

Oh one meal I really miss in Yogya is Lotek. It’s made of boiled vegetables and peanut sauce. With chilli? Yes, with chillis, please. And oh don’t forget, an ice tea.   

Lotek with chillis for lunch! what a wonderful life. nom... nom... nom... 😀

ice-tea. perfecto!

Walking back to the workshop place, I remember Scorpion’s song: Under The Same Sun. I loved their song even up ’til now. They’re rocks!       

cos we all live under the same sun, we all live under the same moon... - Scorpions

Aren’t those guys cool?        

Well, now I know my batik painting must be dried now. I continued bleach canvas with black color. But first, I must pour some yellow liquid (again, I forgot the name ) on the canvas, black coloring, and another yellow liquid to keep the color lasting longer.     

yellow liquid 1, front and back.

 

black coloring now, front and back. no need to dry them up before.

continue to yellow liquid 2, front and back.

Then, I waited for canvas to dry again. That’s when I met him, the cutest guy in Yogya, sitting calm in front of his food, too cool to even care about anything else outside. Oh… *fainted       

well, elowww there, cutey-matey...

Oh how handsome he is, how adorable those long ears. Enjoy your vegan lunch, huh?…       

My teacher called me, canvas has dried, so I took the canvas out of the frame and start to cook it. Yup, cook the canvas in boiled water, on a stove! Relax, I didn’t eat it, this process was done to lose Malam and Liquid chemical.      

boil the canvas in about 5 minutes...

Canvas then washed with cold water, until all Malam and Liquid chemical is gone, but I can see those white outlines now. Those outline once covered with Malam. And also, texture on flower looks great! Look, look…       

see those textures on the flowers? I made it, he he... and gradation worked okay too 😀

And those white outlines? That’s what Malam were for. Gee, I wish I could be more careful with the outline. Anyway, it’s time to put canvas under the sun again. And this is for the last time! Happy last-time-sun-bath, canvas!       

it looks like a very small batik painting, he he...

It was going to rain and canvas hasn’t fully dried yet, Mrs. Kelik (who just came home) take it and ironed it. And Voila! My first Batik Painting!       

My first Batik Painting 😉

I will never forget this experience, since every time people forgot about how and lead an instant lifestyle. I can’t imagine how those Batik painters made this in a short time, under pressures. Somehow I’m lucky that my work wasn’t purely art. Because you see, it shows. In your art, how you feel when you create it, it shows.       

Bye Mrs. Kelik. I took your big heart and spirit with me, hopefully someday will be back again to learn more. And more!…       

me and the nice lady Mrs. Kelik at Batik Kelik, Salakan, Yogyakarta

That day I learned to ride my own rollercoaster. As I packed my backpack at Mrs. Kelik’s workshop, I ran to catch my plane to come home, to meet my boyfriend. He wasn’t there.
And I know something were wrong.    
   
The next day I knew he was cheating on me, I was torn. Then I put up my first Batik Painting on a frame, on a wall of my kitchen, and I know that this is not my loss, it’s his loss.       
Let there be wounds, I have all the time to heal, again and again. No worries. Both world and I have a lot to offer.      
Carpe diem, my wonderful friends!  

Nite, babe. Love you.

Categories: crafts, people, places | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

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