A new exhibition highlights how Malaysian batik can move forward by going back to basics, writes Kerry-Ann Augustin
THE Journal, the boutique hotel nestled at a quiet corner in Jalan Berembi, is probably one of the trendiest spaces in the capital city. It does away with the polished opulence of the big chain hotels surrounding it and instead, sports a fun, chic vintage vibe. Luxurious bold colours give a new breath of life to the rustic 1960s-inspired designs while neon art stands in place of high-end stil life paintings.
On the first floor of the hotel is a little event space called The Gallery, a room made for hosting talks, events and exhibitions — but there’s a sweet irony in the latest display: this cool joint will play host to an exhibition on batik, a craft almost no one associates with being hip.
All that is about to change. Batik: Exploring Natural Dyes, is part of an ongoing five-year project which looks at reviving the art form. The exhibition which runs till Mar 19, offers vital insight on why this traditional craft will, very soon, become our future.
MATERIAL FOR LIFE
“A lot of us don’t know much about batik,” says Erna Dyanty, a volunteer researcher with the newly established art NGO, Kuala Lumpur Natural Dye (KLND).
“Most people only know that batik is a traditional art form and, well, that’s it. We don’t even know the difference between Malaysian batik and Indonesian batik — how are we to help our Malaysian batik industry grow when both consumers and people selling batik can’t even tell the difference?”
Erna is one of the pillars of Natural Dye Batik: Recollecting Lost Knowledge, a five-year project dedicated to resuscitating the dying craft in Malaysia.
Co-organised by the Japan Foundation Kuala Lumpur (JFKL) and supported by the World Craft Council-Asia Pacific Region, the study, which includes workshops and training with academicians, batik makers, fashion designers and scientists, among the few, will take place across nine countries.
It was JFKL who approached Erna, whose interest in the heritage of batik prompted her to start a blog in 2014. Her family, as she notes, were always surrounded by batik. “My parents would drill me constantly on the need to ‘jaga tradisi’,” she says, recalling the many times she was asked to don her baru kurung for special occasions. “I also remember seeing my mum and nenek wear batik sarongs, at home and to formal events. Even when we were to balik kampung, everyone would wear the batik. In a way, I grew up with batik around me.”
Since the 1900’s, batik has been part and parcel of our rich cultural identity. Describing it as “kain rakyat”, Erna feels its appeal has always been in its affordability and its cultural significance. “It is said that batik accompanies you through your life — when you are born you are received by the batik, as you grow you wear the batik, and when you pass on it is quite common that batik is used in the funeral processions,” she explains.
BATIK BASICS
The mention of batik, however, often conjures the image of middle-aged men going to formal functions, clad in silk shirts with vibrant, large floral prints on them. For batik enthusiasts, it’s one of the many misconceptions which reveal just how much we know about the 2,000-year-old craft.
“There are many more misconceptions. For me, the biggest mistake is people thinking batik is easy. Batik is actually very difficult. It takes years of skill and practice to get it right,” says fashion designer Fern Chua who was handpicked by Erna to join the project.
Another member of the project, batik maker Kamiliah Ismail, concurs, adding: “So much planning and work goes into it.”
The craft, adds this 2015 winner of the prestigious Piala Seri Endon Batik Design competition, is also a science. “Even when you’re boiling the wax, there’s a calculation to it.”
But the craft, as they reveal, is in danger. While conducting her research, Erna found that the number of artisan batik makers is diminishing quickly. “In the 1930s, batik was at its peak in Malaya. In fact, at that time artisans were at the centre of the community,” she says, citing examples of how village folk would approach batik artisans if they needed any financial assistance. After the war however, rapid industrialisation altered the way batik was made. Machines started to churn out batik designs in batches with a dye that had taken over the batik world, around the globe — synthetic dye.
GOING NATURAL
“Since Malaysian batik started about a century ago, there has been no real evidence that we used natural dye in our batik,” she explains, noting the lack of documentation at that time. But a stint with master dryer Sachio Yoshioka in Japan last year struck a chord with Erna. “I was completely surprised by the vibrant colours natural dye from plants could produce!”
Yoshioka, whose 2014 solo exhibition in KL displayed how he recreated the colours of the Nara (710-794) and Heian (794-1185) periods by using only natural dye, revealed that most of the sources came from Southeast Asia. “If he sourced colourants from plants which can be found in our jungles, why shouldn’t we use it for our own batik?” she questions.
Usage of synthetic dyes, as Erna warns, forms a major threat to Mother Nature. “The textile industry is one of the largest contributors of water pollution caused by residue of synthetic dyes,” she says, adding that it is “the most polluting of all” the industrial sectors. “The public needs to be aware how we live in such a resource-full country and it is very important that we take care of our environment and water.”
Looking to natural dyes as part of batik revival is nothing new. In 1994, the World Craft Council-Asia Pacific Region already urged batik makers to start using natural dyes. But as Fern notes, using natural dye wouldn’t garner as much profit as printing in masses does.
“Batik is very time-consuming. You need the patience and the skill for the craft.” That alone, as Erna learnt from her visits to batik makers in Terengganu and Kelantan has made batik makers give up on their craft. “The profit margins that artisanal batik makers make these days are more or less the same as they used to make in 1910,” Erna observes, adding that working with synthetic dyes over the decades has also had a negative impact on their health.
As she explains, moving towards natural dyes, artisanal-made batik is a long-term vision. “If we look at the bigger picture, using natural dyes can benefit more than just the batik industry. Harvesting plants that are natural colourants can provide work for folks in the rural areas of Malaysia.
“Natural dyes also go hand in hand with medicinal properties of plants, so it can also contribute to that as well.”
THE DYES THAT BIND
Over the last few years, the team on the project have been running tests on using natural dyes from our forest, and the results are mind-blowing.
“I hope to have a collection featuring natural dyes,” says Chua, who fell in love with batik in the infancy stages of her career as a fashion designer. “People need to know that natural dyes do not mean you’ll get just muted colours. They are so exciting and vibrant!”
Natural dyes, says Erna, will also turn the industry into a sustainable one.
“Imagine a t-shirt made from organic fibre with natural dyes — once you can’t wear it anymore, you can just bury it and it’ll be okay, because it’s not harmful to the environment.”
In The Gallery, material in an array of colours are strung across the walls. It’s hard to imagine the myriad of colours are from plants we can find in our own jungles — areca nuts, oak gall, annatto seeds, sappanwood and mango leaves, among the many.
“We have to re-document what’s lost. We need to take our craft back,” Erna warns. As she puts it: “It’s a first step of a very, very long journey.”