Tag: Erik Prasetya

Leica M3: Silver Halide and Satanism

Erik Prasetya photographs Jakarta with a Leica M. Cartier-Bresson, Salgado, and a long list of Magnum photographers’ works testified its prowess. The original rangefinder camera. Classic timeless design with the iconic red dot (or subdued, if you don’t want to announce ‘expensive camera’). 

I have always had a crush with the M since I saw Blood Diamond; Jennifer Connelly wielding the M among hard men with Kalashnikovs and Armalites. I may never cover an armed conflict, but I practice photography the most when I am travelling. 

Rangefinders are the happy medium between size and performance. Bigger firepower than smartphones, smaller than DSLRs. The ergonomics of a real camera is always better for making pictures. Smartphones’ features are distracting. When you’re travelling, you want to save your phone battery for navigating—and posting those pictures.

Never a best value camera. M’s lack of auto-focus at that price point was a deal breaker for me, a mere photography enthusiast. 

Settled with the poor man’s Leica, Fuji X100T. Not exactly a rangefinder, a premium point and shoot. Beautiful retro (Leica-like) design with a pancake lens equivalent to 35mm and f2.0 aperture—an ideal street photography camera. Attached Lensmate’s thumb-rest and red lizard soft release button for better stability and look. 

My EOS 6D and X100T are all that I need for travel photography. I have realised that when a picture is not good enough, it’s usually because you’re not close enough. Bang Bang Club. I use 50mm and 35mm lenses.

I was a contented traveler-photographer. Until the pandemic. 

In the last months of 2020, I was demoralised—perhaps even depressed. I was burning out from the dullness of isolated days. I was running out of my resiliency in enduring the pandemic days. I found it hard to finish books I am reading, to choose which film to watch, or even to decide where to eat when dining out.  

I wanted to write a New Year post. Something about surviving 2020. I had so much insights from 10 months of ‘house-arrest’. But I was unable to find the words. I sat and stare at the blank word processor page. When I force-typed the words, they were vapid.

I tried photographing my neighbourhood: potholed and cat shitted roads; government or community sponsored banners with vapid jargons (‘Bersama kita lawan COVID-19’); rows of ruko(shophouses) housing SMEs with alay copywriting: ‘Alpucok’ (alpukat kocok), ‘Kedai Netizen’. Digital images are extremely low cost to make and store, but they are not even worth to be captured.

Naturally, I  was not alone. Even creative professionals felt similar burnout. My London host brother, Adithio Noviello, lost interests in photography—a career threat for  him. He decided to return to film photography. He picked up his old Bronica ETRSi and started shooting again. He said analog photography allowed him to slow down, to savour more the process of making a picture. 

Photography as therapy. 

Iyo’s posts piqued my interest in analog photography. In pre-pandemic times, it felt senseless to revert back to impractical photographic equipment when you can spend your resources for travel. The subjects and the environment are always the more decisive factors in making a picture than your kits.

But I needed something novel to stimulate my mind. Thus begin my research. 

I never used a medium format camera like Iyo’s Bronica. My search got me to Negative Feedbackrecommending Mamiya 7 and Romanas Naryškin’s review on Mamiya RZ67. Mamiya 7 seems to be better suited for travels, but you’d shoot from your chest with RZ67—allowing you to make better eye contact with your subjects. 

Romanas reminded his readers that taking picture with analog camera will not make you a better photographer, but it will make you take pictures in a different way. He admits the impracticality of shooting with RZ67. It is a choice he made with heart, not head.

I spent weeks ruminating on the compactness of Mamiya 7 and the shooting experience of RZ67. However, when I saw the price of 120mm film rolls, I decided to start with 35mm.

The cheapest way is to use my father’s Nikkormat again. But I want a small format camera that I’d take when travelling. Negative Feedback recommended Minolta TC-1, a point and shoot with 28mm lens. It is not available in Indonesia. Another problem: it’s so hipster (try searching ‘#minoltatc-1’).

My further search led to ‘the best camera ever made’. Sounds heavy for a 1954 technology, but it’s a Leica. After watching Youtube videos and reading blogs about the M3, I knew that she’s the one. I have always been in love with the M after all. 

Yet, I was worried that I won’t make good pictures; that I would be wasting money. What if this craving for analog photography is just a phase? Will I actually want to travel with a film camera, risking missed shots of priceless moments? 36 unreviewable-undeletable shots with full manual control seems to require so much skill.

The M3 does not have a built-in lightmeter. If I rely on my current light reading skills or the rule of the average from Kodak Pocket Guide to 35mm Photography, the learning curve would have large error margins (costly in terms of money and, worse, moments). Leicameter seems to be a complicated apparatus. Most modern lightmeters’ designs are not aesthetically compatible with the M3 design. 

Thankfully, KEKS EM01 is an easy to use digital lightmeter. Its compact minimalist box shaped design is compatible with the M3’s. The hot/cold shoe attachment, unfortunately, is flimsy white plastic.

I found the justification for the acquisition of the M3 from Jillfit’s post (‘It takes a lot of courage to be willing to suck at something’) and Michael Ramage’s (‘Do something for yourself this year, get better at something…old. Find yourself again’). Digital cameras are my comfort zone photography, analog camera will drive me out of it.

The black and white photograph of Vassily Grossman in war torn Stalingrad on Paris Review’s ‘The Soviet Tolstoy’s Forgotten Novel’ also prompted my decision.

So I went to Joelcam. They had two M3s for sale: a single stroke and a double stroke shutter release lever. The double stroke is the older version, more ‘vintage’ (I checked the serial numbers on f22cameras.com, the double stroke was made in 1955; the single 1962). Function wise, double stroke can better prevent accidental shutter release. Conversely, you can lost milliseconds for readying the shutter release.

The double stroke’s body is in better conditions. The single stroke has more wear and tear. I don’t mind cosmetic wear and tear as long as the camera works; the weathered look also gives that vintage feel (and makes it cheaper). 

Arifin of Joelcam made his sales pitch: more and more photographers are turning to analog. Investment wise, analog camera price is not as depreciative as digital. He didn’t really need to pitch the M3. The moment I walked to the store, I already made my decision. 

The M3 viewfinder is designed for 50mm lens. I’d love to get a Leica lens—the Summicron, Summarit, or Summilux. But I thought it is best to start with something cheaper: the Voigtlander Nokton 50mm f1.2. 

  • Leica M3 with Voigtlander Nokton 50mm f1.2 and KEKS EM01 Lightmeter

Joelcam gave me a complimentary Kodak Gold 200 roll film. It became my first roll for my M3.

I walked out the store with the M3 single stroke. Anxious and excited, like successfully asking a lady for a first date. Hoping everything will work out yet knowing everything could be a disappointment. Downloaded and consulted the manual, watched video on how to load the film roll.

The M3 is heavier than it looks. The shutter speed options are limited from B to 1/1000. I never had to compensate the viewfinder parallax before. I was worried that I would only get a few good pictures or none at all. Dropped my first film roll at Rana Lab when finished it. A few hours later, the developed results were emailed to me.

Dapit the Builder (Kodak Gold 200)

I am glad that my success rate in making good pictures is not bad at all, especially for first time user. Matt Day is right. The Nokton produces visible vignetting in low light conditions. However, it is a great lens with good value.

The M3 is the first camera with which I do photography for the sake of photography. I read that the M3 is not a camera for working professionals but for artists. I am not at the level of an artist, but I am not a working professional. The fully mechanical functions and minimalist features, as well as the delayed gratification of seeing the results, allow me to enjoy again the thrill of shutter clicking and the excitement of anticipations. No white balance setting, no ISO adjustments. Just shutter speed, aperture, and focus.

My choice of the negative have direct and almost unalterable impact to the images. I found joy in experimenting with the negatives. After the Kodak Gold, I tried film rolls from a Ciamis firm, Lapan Film Lab: the BW400 and Cine200. They are half the price of established brands. My verdict: very grainy and inconsistent exposures in low light. The hidden costs of missing moments can be larger than expected. In anyway, I’m a Leica owner. I should be able to afford the investment of better (pricier) negatives. 

Mini Cooper (Lapan BW400)

I am glad that I didn’t decide on Minolta TC-1. A point and shoot would have lessened my photography experience. If I am only looking for the analog look on the images, I could have used one of those filter apps.

I want my skills to match the fine apparatus I am using. I researched on black and white photography books. The first authoritative name appeared from my research is Ansel Adams, the father of straight photography, I acquired his trilogy The Camera; The Negative; and the Print, which unfortunately are too technical so I only skimmed them. Still, I was enlightened of my ignorance on many photography terms (and even the existence of large format cameras).

I bought Lambrecht’s Way Beyond Monochrome. The book focuses on developing and printing film. Too advanced for someone who have only loaded fewer than 10 film rolls in his adult life. 

The references section, however, is a map to gold mines. Sontag’s On Photography is on the top of ‘Art, Perception, Composition, and Lighting.’ But another unfamiliar name kept reappearing: Mortensen, William. His books The Command to Look and The Model are mentioned as the classics. 

I followed the rabbit down the hole.

Command is a book on how to make an impactful image with the anti-thesis of the straight (purist) photography. Adams dubbed Mortensen as the Anti-Christ and used his influence to exile Mortensen from the mainstream photography. Mortensen approach is to engineer a photograph in such a way using psychological nudges to make the viewer look, see, and enjoy. 

The ‘pictorial imperatives’ constitute of shapes/patterns associated with our primal fear as well as universally appealing themes. The shapes/patterns are diagonals, S-curves, triangles, and dominant mass. While the themes are sex, sentiment, and wonder. Mortensen’s ‘pictorial imperatives’ are Roland Barthes’ ‘punctures’ in Camera Lucida.

Mortensen’s formula for two dimensional visual arts was adopted by Anton Szander LaVey in creating the rituals for the Satanic Church—rituals are aimed to satisfy the carnal desires of men and women, employing psychodrama theatrics which are often sensual and terrorising (like in Eyes Wide Shut). 

LaVey’s The Devil’s Notebook feels like Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil or Hesse’s Demian, but with pagan carnivals. Perhaps, Satan is Abraxas. Satanism is not really about worshipping Satan or eating babies. It’s an alternative to mainstream religions and consumerism herd mentality. An atheistic philosophy of individualism based on responsible pursuit of pleasures.

Ziggy & Katniss’ frontyard songkran (Lapan Cine200)

I was a sixteen year old high school kid, sitting on a bench of a warung on a Saturday night; waiting for my friends who have cars to pick me up to party at one of the live music cafes in Kemang (was it Barbados?). The proprietor sat beside me, smoking a clove cigarette. He inhaled and exhaled nicotine and tar fumes. Contented in cancerous indulgence. He was illuminated by a dangling incandescent lightbulb powered by stolen electricity from the streetlights. 

I wished I had a camera and the photography skills to take his portrait. 

I couldn’t afford to pursue photography yet that time. But what really prevented me was Dazed and Confused teenage life. Gaining approval from my peers was more important. Spent my pocket money on cellphone credits, internet cafes, fast fashion, marijuana and cheap liquors (which tasted so bad you’d have to mix them). Got into a gang, but not a band; soft drugs and violence, but no sex other than masturbations.

Now.

I am reading books, on photography and other topics. 

I am writing this post/article/essay. 

I am photographing, again. 

March 13, 2021

Erik Prasetya’s Women on Street

I have an outstanding promise to Erik Prasetya: to write an essay on his (then) newly published photo book Women on Street. I have written a rough draft and note sketches on my journal. However, I never follow it through.

 I am fan of Erik’s works (I took his Street Photography Course). I just don’t have the same interests to Jakarta as him. 

This is a sprawling kampung. It hasthe worst traffic jam in the world. It’s orthodox and homogenic. It’s superficial and a starkly inequal society. It worships anything Western (Hollywood, Louis Vuitton bags, Panerai watches, Supreme anything, and recently Taco Bell) but glorifies the so-called Eastern (Islamic) values; so sexual but laden with religious guilts. A society claiming to value individualism, yet imposes so much emphasis on social gatherings and, therefore, camps.

The aspiring metropolis is bearable to me only because of my close personal relationships and relative career success. In normal times (the pre-pandemic world), I could escape this city. To spend that money made here for travels. But the pandemic forces me to stay. Even worse, it even barred me from meeting my friends. Those video calls help, but not a substitute for in person meetings where we can just be silent in each other’s company.  

However, as a knowledge worker, I can now work from home with little frictions. Being spared of Jakarta’s traffic reduces a lot of stress.

I live in Jagakarsa. A very middle class neighbourhood. An ugly one, almost suburban. Potholed roads, cat shitted, suicidal mopeds. The local mosques engage in daily shouting matches with each other when reciting prayers—at dusk, evening, and dawn. One particular muezzin is so bad, I wonder if he’s the son of the mosque’s imam to be allowed near the microphone. Kiosks and food stalls with bland or unaesthetic designs with alay copywriting. There is Gudskul, a cultural oasis by Ruang Rupa, but other than that you have to buy your own shalimar.

We tried walking around the neighbourhood to be less sedentary during the semi-lockdown, PSBB. I tried to see the aesthetics in the banality as Erik does, but failed. With no foreseeable travel plan, I didn’t touch my cameras for almost a year. 

I miss taking pictures. However, for me, photography is about the subjects and the environments. I have been living in Jakarta for more than 30 years, yet I cannot ‘see’ my home. But even Brandon Stanton of Humans of New York failed photographing Jakarta. Erik himself said that Jakarta is difficult to photograph, the weather is either sunlight overexposure or grey overcast—always with humidity, diffusing the ambient lights. 

There is such thing as ugly beautiful, but most Jakarta is ugly ugly. Just look at the bathroom tiles used for the exterior of local mosques. Sterile luxury may not be charming, yet it is always better than vapid poverty. In Humans of New York, Jakartans’ life stories are always about the struggle of the sandwich generation. Despite an aspiring metropolis, Jakartans’ life aspirations seem to revolve only around family and religion. The uniformity make them banal subjects. 

I do not say this out of spite or unkindness (self-depreciating reversed nationalism, maybe). Indonesia is a third world country which was under authoritarian regime for most of its existence. We are not used to diversity of thoughts and ideas or original self-expression (whatever it is, given our memetic psyche); we stand out to blend in. Thus our love for uniforms and matching clothes within our peer group—e.g. sarimbit. The clannish communal social structure is a safety net since the state has not been able to provide welfare security.

The absence of stimulating subjects and environments muted my interests in photography for a while. Until Instagram ads forwarded me Greg Williams’ Candid Photography Skills online course. With the downtime and restriction on practice from the isolation, I thought maybe it is time to catch up on theories. So I bought the course and was inspired with Greg’s concept of candid photography (which corrected my misunderstanding, ‘candid’ is not just discreet observer’s view but can also be participatory).  I never really read the photo books I owned, to look at the pictures slowly. I reread Women on Street and also Mysterious Happiness by Mathias Heng and Anna Bärlund. 

Then it came to me that Greg, Erik, and Mathias/Anna worked with different subjects from socio-economic backgrounds: the members of the high society (Hollywood celebrities), the middle class (of Jakarta), and the marginalised people (denizens of Manila’s slums). All of them work in human-interests genre.   

When it comes to socio-economic division, the middle-class is the most vulnerable to banality— the least interesting class. The sufferings of poverty can be painted as revolutionary,  reactionary, or at the very least, romantic. One can find life’s meaning in endurance, after all. The high society glamours are the aspirations, the Dream (American or elsewhere). Give a humane perspective on success; bring the elites down to earth and they become relatable. 

Everyone loves glitter and grit. The upper and the lower classes are high stimuli.

The middle-class, with little or no cultural references and capital, are simply consumers—which experience is mediocre.

Seno Gumira Adjidarma, in his collection of essays Affair, described the middle-class experience of Jakarta. The superficiality, in which he coined the term ‘kibul-kibul’, of Jakartans who can look the part as cosmopolitans but subconsciously village people, e.g. smart professional suit and tie, but would change to sandals in the office. In Women on Street, a lady changing her stilettos to walk the streets of Jakarta after work—lest she’d trip from the potholes or easily elbowed and shoved away in Darwinian commutes. 

The dreams of the mediocre, the basic, middle-class are simple: new mobile phones every year, new car every five years, weekend recreations at the malls, eating out at (not cheap but not so good) chain restaurants, and to pursue one or more trending hobbies (current pandemic trends: cycling, gardening, and Siamese fighting fishes).

How Erik see the aesthetics in such banality is impressive and puzzling.

Perhaps the answer can be found in his essays in Estetika Banal & Spiritualisme Kritis and his biography Cerita Cinta Enrico. Erik was not born in Jakarta. He came from Sumatra. He’s a perantau. For him, as other domestic migrants, Jakarta the capital is (or was) a metropolis. Yet, unlike most utusan daerah, he is privileged to have a mother with a good taste (despite she was a Jehovah Witness) and an intellect with vigorous activism (during his student years in ITB, he participated in many protests against the New Order). 

Claiming to be a member of the middle-class, Erik could not nor wished to leverage the stimuli of his subjects with voyeurism or exoticism perspectives.

Maybe Erik loves Jakarta because the city gave him the chance to acquire cultural capital he could not have outside Java? He has travelled extensively, he has seen world great cities, but he became of an artist in Jakarta.

As a born and bred Jakartan, who climbed the socio-economic ladders both culturally and economically, I found Jakarta is easier to live now compared when I was younger. Erik’s anthropological visual records in Women on Street remind me that there have been improvements in infrastructures. Sudirman, the main boulevards, is more walkable now.  The MRT, despite its limited reach, made the main business districts much more accessible. The advent of ride hailing apps make owning a car less of a necessity. E-wallets nudged Jakartans to be a more cashless society. While e-commerce platforms allows me to avoid shopping malls.

Perhaps one misrepresentation of Jakarta in Woman on Street is there are only few women in hijab. In Jakarta, the richer the area, the fewer the hijabi women (despite the Muslims are still the majority population). Inversely, in places where people from various socio-economic backgrounds rub shoulders—the bus stop and train stations and pedestrian walkways—and less affluent or suburban areas, the women cover themselves. 

Maybe that’s why he titled a chapter ‘Looking for the faces of women who may disappear in the future.’ More and more women are covering themselves as a symbol of their faith. Glamorous and hedonistic lifestyle as portrayed by those artis ibukota is inaccessible to most people. Those who can afford them yet sensitive enough realised that the consumerist-exhibitionist pursuit of happiness is futile and spiritually barren. With little or no access to initiate oneself to philosophy and art, Jakartans mostly rely on organised religion as a panacea to their existential questions. 

The hijabs have practical purpose of preventing sexual harassment, some say. Jakarta is a patriarchal city, women in public places are always subjected to the male gaze and catcalls. Jakarta women often wear jackets, shawls, or anything to cover their shoulders despite the heat and humidity; as well as earbuds to dampen those catcalls when walking. I, however, am skeptical the effectiveness of hijab as countermeasure to sexual harassment;  a hijabi coworker said she is often catcalled by ‘Assalamualaikum, Bu Haji!’

In anyway, a photographer sees what he want to see and present what he want to present. Women of Street is intended to be a street photography project, not journalism. Erik wants a Jakarta that is more inclusive and female friendly. A less orthodox and, yes, more cosmopolitan, cultured, and liveable city.

Erik is among the few of Indonesian photographers who can write to explain his ‘art’. In fact, I don’t know any other Indonesian who does that. He posited that Indonesian photography scene is short on precedents. The Indonesian maestros rarely left literatures on their take to the art of photography. The younger generations have to start from scratch; no wonder most Indonesians stuck at craftsmen level. The artisan photographers are usually trained and educated overseas. Erik’s books, including Women on Street, are his dedication as an educator. 

Erik tutoring on photo essays

February 13, 2021

Salihara Street Photography Course 2017

I took Salihara Street Photography course in 2017. I got the information from Instagram’s  sponsored ad. It was a rare moment when Instagram ad algorithms actually pushes something that add value to my life.

 

The course was coached by Erik Prasetya. I did not know him before, despite he is one of Asia’s most influential photographers. I just learned the fact only after I did my research on the course.

 

I browsed his portfolios first before reading about his background. I loved his works immediately, even before I learned that he’s a big name in street photography. I am always wary of awards and titles. While they are indicative on the quality works, awards and titles have the tendency to turn anything into a competitive sport. As in any competition, you can win because you are that good or simply your competitors are that bad.

 

I am not saying that awards and titles as well as competitions have no merit at all. They are useful for filtering information overload, to narrow down choices. But we need to keep in mind they are ‘tools’ of institutions. Their reliability is dependent on the legitimacy of the institutions which provide them. And in a less developed country (i.e. Indonesia), there is a high chance that institutions are not matured enough to be consistent in quality standards.

 

I have seen photographers who advertised his or her credentials when making a photography course. Winner of photo competitions, a high end camera brand ambassador, a magazine’s photographer of the year, etc. However, when I look at their portfolios, they are technically stunning but, I think, bland.

 

But Erik’s pictures are different. He can capture the beauty of middle-class and Jakarta, two banal subjects which loosely represent the worst of capitalism and consumerism. His works are not just pleasing to the eyes and indulging senses, but captures and touches our ‘soul’.

 

I have limited references on Indonesian photographers. Therefore, it was a rare chance to learn photography in Jakarta from a photographer with such depth. So I decided to make the investment in enrolling.

 

I do not have the ambition to become professional photographer. However, I want evolve as a photographer. I want to grow beyond taking ‘instagrammable’ pictures, beyond banal platitudes of getting ‘likes’ and surface level photographic beauty.

 

The course consisted of classes of instructions and discussions, photo hunting sessions, and creating photo essays.

 

Instructions and Discussions

 

In the classes, Erik explained the theoretical formula for street photography (facial expression, juxtaposition and metaphor). Apparently street photography is more than just ‘on the street photography’. To have all the three elements in one frame requires skill and luck.

 

He also spoke and discussed about his perspective and sensitive observations. The thinking process behind his art—coined as ‘Banal Aesthetics’—is captivating.

 

Street photography, unlike photojournalism, does not rely on capturing highly charged subjects such as war, famine, or political unrest. Therefore, the ethical issues mostly revolve around the privacy of the subjects. Street photography often requires discreetness to acquire the candidness of the moment. Nevertheless, when the shutter has clicked, the subjects are likely to notice the photographer. It is important to make the subjects feel comfortable, for ethical  and artistic (even legal) reasons. Erik has a good tip for photographer: be stylish and good looking so people are more welcoming.[1]

 

Well, we can learn to be stylish. But not everybody is good looking. Maybe good looking can be substituted by being charming?

 

The case studies on ethics in photography that we discussed, among others, was Kevin Carter’s Pulitzer winning photograph of a starving Sudanese child waited by a vulture. The photograph helped in drawing more international attention to the crisis in Sudan. Nevertheless, when a photographer photograph something, he or she made a decision not to intervene. Therefore, arguably, photographing is a passive form of endorsement. Carter committed suicide in 1994, the film ‘Bang Bang Club’ portrayed that he felt guilty and became depressed for not helping the child.

 

Erik did not photograph the 212 Protest, because he is not willing to passively endorse a regression in liberal values.

 

Photo hunting sessions

 

In street photography, we need to go beyond ‘exoticism’. I am mostly a travel photographer. Therefore, it is difficult for me to move away from acquisitive mindset towards novel and unfamiliar subjects/objects—which are a plenty when I am travelling.

 

On the other hand, street photography is, well, photography. I think the foundation of photography is to capture subjects that stimulate the interests of the photographer. Even if the subjects are neither novel nor unfamiliar, as long as they arouse the curiosity to observe deeper, I believe the photographer can produce a captivating image.

 

We are naturally defined by our interests. That is why photography projects a strong sense of individuality. For me, photography even produces a feeling of connection with the photographer. When I look at a photograph, I feel as if I am relating with and interpreting the photographer’s perspective of the world. Just like reading a writer’s words.

 

The photo hunting ground was Jakarta. We went to Kota Tua (Jakarta’s old town district) and Jakarta Mod event in Senayan. Just because I live in a city for most of my life, does not mean I can’t find anything novel, unfamiliar and interesting.

 

Kota Tua

 

The last time I visited Kota Tua was in 2010. It has always been a popular photo hunting spot in Jakarta because it has the highest concentration of the Dutch colonial buildings. At that time, however, most (if not all) of the Dutch colonial buildings were in such a sorry state. They were all crumbling. The city government does not seem to have any preservation programme of the historic site (or the programme was simply not implemented effectively). If you want to go inside of any of the buildings, you have to pay unofficial entry and photography fee to the local thugs. In my memory, the associated smell of Kota Tua circa 2010 is of urine.

 

2017 Kota Tua is revamped. I can see the city government led by Governor Ahok has done better job in implementing the preservation programme. The colonial buildings are refurbished and became fancy new restaurants, cafes and exhibition galleries. The main square is more family friendly—which means more middle class Jakartans are coming in.

 

I am all in for preservation of historical sites. However, at least in this case, the preservation also means gentrification. I am wary of the hipsters, but I am much more wary of the blandness of the middle class. 2017 Kota Tua is like London’s Leicester Square. Kota Tua square is now filled with costumed mimes, floating trick artists and caricature illustrators. Onthel (vintage bicycles) rent businesses have been there for as long as I can remember, but now they are multiplying and the bikes are brightly painted with pastel colours. This is to create high contrast with the grey old buildings. The ultimate purpose: selfies or selective colour photography trick—which everyone seems to be doing there.

 

Kota Tua square is also a reminder of how homogenic Jakarta is. Although Indonesia is ethnically diverse and Jakarta is the melting pot for Indonesians, it is difficult to spot the physical difference between ethnic groups—except for the East Indonesians and the Chinese Indonesians. Trying to differentiate the Javanese and the Bataks physically is like comparing the English and the Scandinavians.

 

The homogeneity of Jakarta extends to style. As a conservative society with limited references, Jakartans have low tolerance to non-mainstream individual style expressions. Therefore, there is little variety in terms of fashion. It is typically easy to spot which socio-economic group a Jakartan belong from the way they dress and where they hang out.

 

The sights of 2017 Kota Tua were new and unfamiliar for me. Nevertheless, it did not stimulate my curiosity. Thus, I cannot use the exoticism perspective.

 

2010 Kota Tua, I think, was charming in a raw derelict way. Anak kampung (children from nearby poor neighbourhoods) were playing football, indie band members were doing photoshoots for their album and couples their prewedding photography, punks and gangsters congregated with their comrades. It was my early day of learning photography—I still used a point and shoot. My references on photography was much more limited compared to now, but I can be sure that I would have been more interested in 2010 Kota Tua even now.

 

This confirms that I still hold on so much to the exoticism perspective. I still rely on my voyeuristic impulse in photography. I am interested in ‘lower class’ 2010 Kota Tua, because I am not a member of such class.

2017 Kota Tua

 

Senayan

 

The Jakarta Mod event was more interesting. Maybe because the subjects are segmented.

 

The interesting thing about Jakarta mods are not their obsession with Vespa mopeds, but their zeal in adopting the fashion style—which are geared for London weather. I saw many Jakarta mods proudly wore their vintage overcoat and jacket in 35 centigrade/80% humidity weather. I was sweating in plain t-shirt and shorts, so I imagine how wet they were inside.

 

It was a hot and humid day.

On obtaining juxtaposition, Jakarta is a random city. Based on my experience living here for more than 30 years, juxtapositions are almost everywhere. In fact, some juxtapositions are so common here they are perceived as the norm. I had to live abroad to be able to see Jakarta’s peculiarities.

 

Nevertheless, encountering juxtaposition and capturing it with a camera in a split second is the photographic skill that separates the professionals from the amateurs, the trained talent and the rookie. Great photographers are borderline clairvoyant in anticipating moments. Their years of experience seem to allow them to intuitively position themselves at the right place and at the right time. They have mastered the art of waiting and thinking.

 

I did encounter many juxtaposed moments both in Kota Tua and Senayan, but I failed to capture them.

 

Needless to say, I fell behind during the photo hunting session. I want to blame Jakarta for this failure. After all, Brandon Stanton of Humans of New York also failed in photographing Jakarta.[2] But some of the photographers in my class succeeded.

 

Erik consoled me that photography requires the elements of luck and patience. We only had half day. It took him  at least 5 years to photograph Jakarta and published them on his newest book Women on Street.

 

The experience made me insecure. Nevertheless, I was venturing beyond my comfort zone. I took the required path to evolve.

 

Additionally, I reconfirmed that I do not love Jakarta. Erik can photograph Jakarta well because he is in love with the Big Durian. He migrated from Sumatra. Despite Jakarta is a third world city, it is still the capital. Compared to Sumatra, Jakarta (and Java) is much more developed. Maybe as a born and bred Jakartan, I am unable to appreciate that fact.

 

Of course, I do not mean to be condescending to Erik or other Indonesian urbanisation migrants (commonly referred to as ‘utusan daerah’—region’s delegate[3]). There is more to Jakarta that attracts Erik than the bright lights and the Indonesian dream.[4] Jakarta is a peculiar city, an acquired taste. The city can be artistically stimulating if you can cope with its randomness. Also, Erik is not just an artist, he is a political activist. He participated in many protests against Soeharto’s dictatorial New Order regime. What better place to do political activism than the capital.

 

In fact, it may be me who is shallow for not being able to better appreciate Jakarta despite I can live relatively comfortably here.

Photography and Literature

 

Erik and the other 2017 class participants are also interesting individuals. We discussed topics beyond photography. From politics, literature, films, social and anthropological issues to personal life stories. Every class was enriching. I gained many references from them. I read books recommended by Erik (and a book about him), i.e.:

 

  • Mythologies by Roland Barthes;
  • Camera Lucida by Roland Barthes;
  • On Photography by Susan Sontag;
  • Estetika Banal & Spiritualisme Kritis by Erik Prasetya and Ayu Utami; and
  • Cerita Cinta Enrico by Ayu Utami

 

From the discussions and the books, I finally understood what makes certain photographers, such as Erik, able to create a depth, to give ‘soul,’ in their pictures: their taste. Technical skills of photography will make beautiful pictures. Depth or ‘soul’ is achieved with the sophistication of the photographers’ mind. As Erik pointed out, a photographer is a craftsman if he or she can create beautiful pictures. However, it takes an artist to create art.

 

I notice that one thing that indicates sophistication of the photographer’s mind is the ability to articulate their ‘art’ in words. The photographers I look up to are also writers. They have published good (even great) books or at least run quality blog.

 

I learned that ‘a picture worth a thousand words’ adage does not exempt a photographer in articulating their thoughts. It is true that words are more limited in describing a matter since they are only representation of it. However, words give form to enable better understanding on a matter. The more complex our linguistic skills, the better we are in articulating our thoughts. Subsequently, we become better in expressing and sharing them. And art is about expression and sharing.

 

The ability to articulate thoughts is also essential for the development of photography. Photography, as any work of the mind, is an intuitive process. Nevertheless, if such intuitive process can be translated—albeit only to certain extent—into a reasoning explanation, the next generation can benefit from precedents and a more methodical approach in learning photography.

 

Erik’s opined that Indonesian street photography scene is not living up to its potential. He believes that it is not because of the economy. Sri Lanka street photography scene is lively and it is also a less developed country. Erik believes the main factor in such lethargy is the lack of precedents. Many senior photographers do not produce sufficient books on photography. Precedents allow aspiring and new generation photographers to shorten their learning curves and they do not need to develop the established practices from ground zero over and over again.

 

As someone with ‘standing on the shoulders of giants’ image tattooed on my forearms, I agree with Erik.

 

Erik is a lecturer in Institut Kesenian Jakarta. He is invested in developing the street photography genre in Indonesia. He mentors his students well. Patient, approachable and encouraging, even towards difficult and entitled individuals. I am writing this entry as a testimony on how this course has added value to my life and I would recommend next courses for anyone interested in the art of observation.

 

I don’t think I have succeeded in becoming a street photographer at the end of the course. Nevertheless, it is my deficiencies that I need to fix by investing more time on my photography skills. The effort I undertake in the course itself is rewarding. I believe I have learned much and improved as a photographer in general.

 

Erik holds regular meetups for Street Photography Course alumni (2016 and 2017 classes) and created a Whatsapp group. On a critical note, I decided not to participate because there are more noises than productive discussions in the Whatsapp group. I hope this alumni group can be better curated and moderated.

‘How to take better wefies’ is a part of the curriculum. Not. Photograph by Danny Ardiono.

[1] Erik is in his 60s but you can tell that he is fit from his built (he is a wall climber). He always wear fedora hat and scarf as his signature style. He said it helps to make him look less threatening so subjects are more welcoming to him.

[2] Erik Prasetya held a group discussion at Komunitas Salihara on why Stanton failed in photographing Jakarta. Unfortunately, I did not attend.

[3] Indonesians often refers Jakarta as the capital (ibukota), while the rest of Indonesia is the regions (daerah).

[4] I think the contemporary Indonesian dream can be summed up by these external material symbols: big house, domestic helpers and baby sitter, fancy cars with chauffeurs, Western or Japanese restaurants, fast fashion, shopping malls, the newest smartphones and travel pictures abroad on Instagram.

September 27, 2018