A few months ago on a visit to Nusa Panida to attend the blessing of a friend's house, I found myself sitting in a banjar, hiding in the night's silence after being comprehensively defeated in chess by someone half my age. My only consolation was that my opponent turned out to be a regional chess champion. Above the chirp of a very confused cicada, presumably complaining about the light of the full moon, I could distinctly hear the measured sounds of a chisel and hammer tapping on wood coming from the house behind us. Looking in the direction of the sound, just over a stone wall I could see the light of a single fluorescent bulb illuminating what I was later to learn was the artist Ketut Lunas's studio. Imagining the rhythmical sound of an orchestra of chisels slicing through the Bianco Carrara in Lunigiana on which Michelangelo was weaned, curiosity got the better of me. On asking, Ingrid told me that a family of sculptors lived and worked behind the wall for generations; right here, not a stone-throw away, on this tiny island.
We met Ketut Lunas the next morning, busy at work:
It was irrelevant that his studio was literally a shed, for the real wealth of his worth lay in the content of the studio. Wood pervaded every corner. My lungs, now so used to salt in the air, filled instead with the odor of wood. Here, a piece of formless teak over which a young child, no older than ten or eleven stooped, intent on finding the form that lay within. There, a half carved temple window emerged. Yet over there, like a freshly carved Pieta' waiting to be delivered to Jean de Billheres another sculpture stood, dripping with allegorical expressions of Hindu mythology. The distinct difference being, that, sans vanity, Ketut Lunas' work did not have an "intagliato da Ketut Lunas" emblazoned in bold letters across a sash. Gazing at the unfinished pieces, I imagined how Michelangelo's "Slaves" would have looked in his studio. Like Gunang Agung to the north, it would have appeared dormant and meaningless to the visitor, yet to him it would have been bursting with energy struggling to escape the block.
The tools of his profession lay about him, sharp, efficient and obviously well used. He seemed to know where each one lay. When he needed one he did not need to look away from his work. He just reached for it and put to work. When he finished, it was returned to the exact same spot. His hand then floated on to the next tool without even momentarily diverting his attention away from his work.
When we approached, he stood up out of politeness but it was clear that his mind remained on his work. He did not speak much but what lay about him said all that needed to be said. Every so often his eyes glanced back at his work and softened as though he were looking longingly upon his children, wanting to return to them, perhaps to change something or to analyze them from a different perspective.
They say that a person judges character within the first few seconds of meeting another person. Subjective though it may be, whether that initial judgement proves to be accurate or not, those seconds, form the foundation of any relationship, even enduring ones. Pope Julius II meeting Michelangelo for the first time, leaves one wondering who was trying to figure who out. But the person who stood before me was a man oblivious to his surroundings, intense, contemplative, thoughtful, certainly gifted and one whose talent was honed by long hours of heightened energy and years of hard work.
The instinctive thing to have done would have been to offer to buy one of the gems from the studio, but that would have been too obvious, not to mention a mistake or even worse, an insult. Nothing in the studio was for sale. Every piece, from a humble trinket to the most complex temple carving, was born from a commission. The correct thing to do therefore was to thank him for his time and leave, enriched by the rare experience of being in the presence of an artistic giant.
The relationship and trust between a patron and the artist must, from the onset, acknowledge that creativity finds expression outside the boundaries of conventional thinking and cannot and indeed must never be constrained by social practicalities and formalities. Time-frame was mentioned only once but would never be taken seriously. It would take as long as it would take, not because Ketut Lunas was busy on more lucrative work but we could see that he wanted to take his time on this commission because it was an opportunity for him to expand his creative oeuvre. Basic dimensions were only mentioned in passing as, to have been more specific, would have been to relegate a work of art to the size of a frame.
Whether Ketut Lunas would embellish the work with the traditional intricacies seen in the drawing or whether he would take a more impressionistic approach was left to his artistic interpretation. Whether he would consider his patron's aesthetic sensibilities or, for that matter, abandon his own, in deference to more personal metaphysical speculation, was entirely at his discretion. In its purest form, art is after all, in the minds eye of the artist not the beholder. It is in the journey of the beholder that meaning in the work is revealed.
In a land so prolific in mythology expressed through art, it is almost impossible to find a model for Baruna that also expresses the power of the sea. Most popular images are benign two dimensional representations at best; some designed for obscure commercial purposes with little or no inherently intrinsic value. So the search was quickly diverted to finding a starting point that would inspire Ketut Lunas's artistic imagination. Finally, after passing several images back and forth our friend Kadek found an image that was accepted by the artist:
The technical aspect of the visual arts are primarily concerned with the interpretation of three dimensional space. The sculptor in particular, has to reinterpret a two dimensional representation of reality back into three dimensions. Easily done using modern tools perhaps, but traditional tools in the hands of a master, coaxes the pictorial volume, representational or otherwise, from a formless block with the dexterity of a surgeon.
To finish the work at that point would be to merely reproduce reality; which to a sculptor is no easy task in of itself. To venture beyond requires great personal risk. It takes courage to imbue the work with a power and energy that is uniquely that of the sculptor. Therein lies the realm of creative genius.
The journey had begun. Two months later Ketut Lunas has surpassed a mere representation of Baruna having already dealt with the technical aspects of his craft:
Surprisingly, something more than expected is starting to emerge in this work. It now occupies the very space that Michelangelo struggled with. Contending with the paradox of summa universae theologiae. In this work, Ketut Lunas has managed to deal with the conflation of his religion as well as his own humanism. To the religious, the sculpture can comfortably be viewed as a homage to the best traditions of Bhatara Segara iconography represented at Tanah-Lot. To the humanist, the work can be viewed from the concepts of humanitas, in eastern philosophy. At it's most essential level this work confronts us with the idea first expressed by French National Convention decree in May 8, 1793:
"...Ils doivent envisager qu’une grande responsabilité est la suite inséparable d’un grand pouvoir...."
Or to to put it in terms that even our young will understand:
Bhatara Segara teaches us about the reverence for the power of the deities. Humanitas cautions us about the use and abuse of power present in our own humanity, both of which are especially relevant today. Therein lies the real value of this work.
Like so many unfinished work of masters past and present, even in its current unfinished state, the fact will always remain that this Baruna was created, now lives in its own right and the world is a better place for witnessing its birth. Ketut Lunas will tell us when it is finished for it is and will always be a work of the master sculptor from Nusa Paneda.
Matur suksma Ketut Lunas.
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