Wastra and Kain: Indonesian Creative Journeys Through Textiles

Sarah has always been drawn towards tenun, it’s not the wastra of her own culture, but it was and has been a journey to discovering and reconnecting with her own Indonesian roots. She is Javanese, so Batik has always been part of her. She remembers going to batik shops with her mother, running around in between the different colours and patterns as her mother finds the right ones for a wedding, or to give as presents. She even remembers playing amongst the large ceramic pots they used to make them colourful – there was always someone chasing her around telling her she wasn’t supposed to be there.

But tenun is her kain. She first felt a connection when she went east for a research project working with weaving communities in Flores. It was a draw that sparked her interest because she had never seen them before, and it ignited her academic interests. To be in the same space where traditions and creative practice come together was eye-opening and it was where she first experienced the true diversity of the Indonesian Archipelago. It became a journey she has never been able to walk away from. To watch and learn from a weaver using her traditional back-strap loom makes her curious about how these skills were often unconsidered when people buy the finished product. How could sitting on a loom for hours on end, whilst feeding a family and raising children be anything but a miracle? What are the lives of these women who also tend to their rice paddies during the day? How do they value these skills that have been passed down through generations? Do they know how indescribably talented they are? How does creativity live in them?

Sarah walked into Adiwastra Nusantara⁷ entering a library filled with stories, at the entrance is an anthology of wastra and kain Indonesia, Batik, Tenun, Embroidery…new and old existing side by side. They tell stories of the islands and villages, their cultures, family histories, the past, present and future. These stories are told through the patterns, colours and materials that are bound together through expert hands and creative thought. The best part of wastra and kain was that you could travel through them and with them, this was what connected the archipelago. Adiwastra is like an introduction, building the first connections to experiencing different cultures – you could touch and wear a kain from Sumba and learn about the plants that grow to make the browns or see the intricate hose motifs that symbolise heroism and bravery to connect with the people. You did not have to be there to know these stories, but it was always a privilege if you could travel deep into the villages, into the homes of where they are made…

Looking at a tenun⁸ from Timor, Indonesia is reading the story of a mother teaching her daughter to weave as she becomes of age – it is a skill she must possess to show she is ready to become a wife and mother. She teaches her to make patterns and motifs through memory and stories. As the mother’s expert hands make intentional movements, it is as if these motifs lived in them. As her fingers touch the thread arranging them for ikat, they are the bridges creating the path for the patterns to cross. As the ties are put in place, what cannot yet be seen begins to take shape, connecting with leluhur⁹ – what emerges are the ideas from her mother before her and hers before her, all the way back to the first moment the first ancestor who first opened this connection from mind to thread.

Through these fingers flow messages from family, stories of relationships and blessings. A young woman becomes ready to be a mother in these threads, the wastra symbolises that she is ready to build a home, provide shelter for her and her family. As the mother teaches her daughter, she guides her to embody the patterns in her own hands. Her fingers practice arranging individual threads in the right order, her hands follow her mother’s as she observes the right places to make the tie, counting each thread – as she does this, she imagines the patterns they will create, ones she knows come from this bond between the mothers and daughters that came before her.

As she creates, her own stories are told, adding and continuing as they build – as they become part of her, she puts herself into them, the stories of her time, of a new generation. As the daughter practices, she memorises and learns her own family story, the ikat that will take the shapes of the sea creatures she sees in the waters by her home, or the trees in the forest that surrounds them. She begins to interpret them in her own style whilst also honouring the stories told by her mother. This kain she is creating is driven by her own imagination and what comes out of her hands is a new story, one she will continue telling until she passes it down to her own children.