Java’s magic
architecture revealed
From the outside they look unremarkable, only to be picked out
among terracotta sameness by keen eyes. The roof is the giveaway. The lower sides should slope gently over
verandas on all four sides while the peak rises sharply.
The shoulder shape is critical, indicating the owner’s
importance, essential in a status-conscious culture. The most important are joglo with a central cone,
the others limasan.
These houses are the liveable representations of the
landscape in miniature, the gently rising fields suddenly confronted by the
upward thrust of a mountain range.
Limasan are the
traditional buildings of Java and South Sumatra with a design ancestry of more
than a millennia. This we know because the houses sometimes feature on temple
frescoes where the playful carvers of legends and the doings of royalty spiced
the stories with cameos of everyday life.
Some look as though they were chiselled yesterday as the
artist glanced around for subjects; a man hawking goods carried on a yolk, a
woman dressed in a long skirt, buffalo ploughing a paddy: These remain
commonplace scenes in rural Java.
Volcanic eruptions smothered Borobudur and scores of other monuments
to Shiva-Buddha (an evolved mix of indigenous Hindu and Buddhism). Hot ash rained down destroying almost
everything combustible. As the people’s homes were built of timber and bamboo
these burned rapidly or rotted slowly as the jungle reclaimed abandoned farms.
The carvings survived, and like photographs contain such
detail that curators at the Trowulan Museum in East Java have built a replica.
Western visitors should be warned not to stand upright in
doorways or under roof beams. The early Javanese were not tall so built
according to their body sizes. However they did construct with a sense of proportion
and beauty and a practical knowledge of comfort in a climate of heavy rain and
intense sunlight.
As glass was unknown and robbers abroad windows were timber
shutters open during the day to snare passing breezes. Guests could be received in shade on the front
veranda without having access to the intimate inside. The overhang kept rain off the walls.
The high point in the house collected the rising hot air
ensuring the lower living area stayed cool. Keeping out the light meant many
dark corners where spirits could feel at home. All well and good. But inside a limasan there’s much more than a few basic tricks of design.
The underside of the roof supported by tall timber pillars
is often a masterpiece of carving inside rectangular three-dimensional
ceilings. Like sleeping under the stars
and watching galaxies afar wink their way across the dome of heaven, a dozer in
a limasan can be lulled by contemplating
the impressive decorations above.
Archaeologist Mitu M Prie graduated from the University of
Indonesia in 1984. For a while she worked
in her profession before turning to advertising. She started the arts
collective Koalisi Seni Indonesia and
has long been involved in campaigns to preserve and appreciate Indonesian
heritage.
Her latest work Pancaran
Limasan (The Brilliance of Limasan) is homage to the artisans of the
Majapahit Kingdoms (late 13th century to early 16th) and
their ancestors.
This golden era of Javanese history came when an empire was
built by the clever and cunning Gajah Mada, the prime minister under Hayam
Wuruk. The king reigned between 1350 and
1389, consolidating his empire’s power centered on the rich Brantas River
flatlands of East Java.
The people prospered through conquest and trade. They had
enough disposable income, as modern economists say, to spend on things they
didn’t necessarily need but certainly liked.
These included elaborate interior design of a style that reflected the
culture – enigmatic.
So there are elaborate patterns, though few depictions of
real things, unlike the temple frescoes. This may be a mark of respect to Islam
which prohibits images of nature; if so it’s a recent addition as monotheism
was a latecomer to the archipelago.
In the finest examples of limasan the posts are decorated and painted in the traditional
green and yellow, often with a touch of muted red. Although originals are rare and
pricey limasan with glass windows,
neon lights and all modern amenities have been built in some upmarket resorts.
Ms Prie’s book also attempts to be a work of art in keeping
with its subject. It has a sturdy cover,
many sketches and around 100 photos taken by the author. Unfortunately these are monochrome or sepia;
many are soft focus presumably to give an Olde Worlde feel when sharp colors
would have aided appreciation.
The text is tiny, which is another drawback. Publishers of big
picture books frequently get carried away by presentation and forgetting
contents. The final product should be
easily accessible to all readers – even if that means sacrificing tonal subtleties
known only to the designer. We shouldn’t
have to search for a magnifying glass.
The book has been written in Indonesian and poorly
translated into English. A skilled sub-editor could have smoothed over some
jarring awkwardness in language. There’s no index.
When the Dutch arrived in the 16th century they
included European architecture among their cultural baggage – but soon found
that a mansion in chilly Amsterdam didn’t transplant well to tropical Batavia.
Those who were least proud borrowed local concepts to create
the high roof ‘Indies Style’. Art deco versions are still to be seen in cities
like Malang where the wealthy Dutch plantation owners settled. The intricately patterned tile floors came
later.
The best limasan and
joglo are exquisite indeed, to be
ranked alongside wayang kulit puppets
and gamelan orchestras as cultural treasures of global importance. It’s good they are being recognised - but
they deserve a richer record.
Pancaran Limasan
(The Brilliance of Limasan)
by Mitu M Prie
Red and
White Publishing 2016
(First published in The Jakarta Post 9 March 2017)
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