01.10.24 — 31.10.24

The Quest

Solo exhibition by Samsul Arifin

The Quest

The obsession of painters with a single visual object is a recurring theme in modern art history. Monet’s more than 250 water lily paintings slightly surpass O'Keeffe's 200-plus flower paintings. Frida’s repeated self-portraits are no different from Affandi, who spent his entire life exploring his own face and figure. We see Kusama still immersed in polka dots. Basuki often painted female figures with the same intensity as Srihadi, who never tired of painting dancers on the horizon and Borobudur. Popo was known for his love of cats, similar to Ugo, who spent years focused solely on horses.

There is no absolute answer to why this obsessive tendency continues to pervade many painters today. Every artist surely has their own reasons. However, it is understandable to assume that this tendency reflects the artist’s ‘obedience’ to the production and reception patterns in the art world— where works that receive a positive response are likely to be repeated. Labeling also plays a significant role: once an artist is known for a particular object or visual idiom—whether it be self-portraits or floral motifs—such labeling or praise from art critics and enthusiasts tends to encourage continued exploration. This labeling strengthens the artist’s focus or obsession. This process creates a feedback loop, where an artistic tendency that may have initially been spontaneous or experimental eventually becomes a foundation for the artist’s ‘obsession’ or ‘artistic identity.’ In a competitive art world, a consistent and unique artistic identity becomes a distinguishing factor for an artist.

The discussion of artistic obsession opens the way to delve into the works of Samsul Arifin. Since the early 2000s, Samsul has remained faithful to paintings, sculptures, and installations centered around objects such as fabric dolls, pencils, and erasers. In his third solo exhibition, The Quest, dolls and pencils once again dominate. However, to merely call it a repetition may be an oversimplification. This exhibition shows that Samsul digs deeper and leaps forward by introducing new visual objects.

Few curators have analyzed the background and motives behind Samsul's attachment to objects like dolls, pencils, and erasers, especially from a biographical perspective. As noted respectively by Supangkat and Wardani, the fabric dolls cannot be separated from Samsul's childhood as the son of a seamstress. Samsul was born and raised in a village called Dampit, Malang, East Java, where he helped his grandmother, father, and sister measure, cut, and sew fabric with thread and needle. Meanwhile, the pencil and eraser symbolize his struggle to complete his education and earn a degree to fulfill his father's wishes, as his father worked as an elementary school teacher.

Undoubtedly, these biographical facts remain relevant in interpreting Samsul Arifin's works in his solo exhibition The Quest. Three paintings—Ode untuk Ibu, Ode untuk Sang Guru and Enam Sedarah Sepenanggungan (Ode for Mother, Ode for the Teacher, and Six in Solidarity)—still reflect personal life experiences that shape his artistic perspective. In the first painting, the figure of a mother is depicted through sketches resembling women carrying heads (his mother being the family breadwinner after his father’s death). Meanwhile, in the second painting, a male figure appears holding books. In both of these paintings, dolls lie horizontally across the canvas, with body parts separated and wrapped in measuring tape—a metaphor for helplessness.

In the final painting, Samsul illustrates six human figures resembling silhouettes made from worn-out paper, symbolizing the arduous struggle of him and his five siblings to pursue their education. Samsul, the fifth of six children, was the one who had to travel the farthest (to Yogyakarta) for school from a young age (note the figure of the traveler in the bottom right corner of the canvas). While in Yogyakarta, Samsul's life was heavily supported by his older siblings who had already started working.

I won’t dwell too much on Samsul’s tough and bitter life story. What matters more is understanding how a biography remains relevant in interpreting an artist's ‘obsession.’ The life of a painter can help us understand their artistic actions. If we agree that daily human actions are inevitably influenced by experiences, memories, and traumas that seep into the subconscious, it becomes easier to comprehend why an artist repeatedly returns to certain objects. In Samsul’s case, the doll, pencil, or eraser is more than just an artistic identity.

Samsul's past stories can lead us to a deeper understanding of his artistic temperament. This doesn’t mean we should always reduce the meaning of a work of art solely to the artist's life facts. However, in the artistic obsessions that recur, there are undeniable traces of personal history. A child from a family of tailors, for instance, might see the world through pieces of fabric, needles, and thread, which he would weave into toy dolls during his free time. The child of a teacher might see life as a lesson that needs to be erased and rewritten continuously. In Sang Pemikir (The Thinker), a doll made of leather is shown sleeping on a book, with walls and ceilings full of wild scribbles, letters, or scientific formulas.

For every doll in his paintings, Samsul always makes the ‘models’ by hand. Usually, they are mini-sized and adorned with accessories like masks, scarves, pencils, or backpacks. Some ride horses or camels. This doesn't mean he can't paint the dolls directly without the models. For Samsul, making dolls by hand is part of his personal expression. He photographs the dolls to create a kind of scenography for his paintings. For some past exhibitions, he has also enlarged the dolls into lifesized sculptures.

We cannot overlook the uniqueness of Samsul's dolls. In contrast to polished factory-made dolls, Samsul's creations— whether in paintings, sculptures, or installations—exude a radical simplicity that feels almost primitive. He often chooses burlap, a material that asserts its raw, unrefined quality. The bodies of Samsul's dolls are never proportionate or detailed; he seems to express something simple and fundamental: a truth in imperfection. These dolls are without gender yet draw attention with a striking feature: their round eyes, large pupils brimming with curiosity, as if perpetually questioning the world around them. Unlike Murakami, who names his characters, Samsul does not bestow special names upon his dolls. Even when a curator dubbed one of them 'Goni' in 2008, Samsul has not readily adopted this name in all instances. For him, anonymity grants greater freedom and flexibility for his dolls to become part of the audience's imagination.

One of the hallmarks of Samsul's paintings lies in his presentation of the tension between two expressive languages in art: the meticulous, detailed, and refined on one side, and the wild, unrestrained, and formless on the other. His burlap dolls, whether made of fabric or skin, often feature meticulous craftsmanship—each fold, wrinkle, and even tear that reveals the stuffing feels palpable. However, the backdrop of wild brushstrokes creates a striking contrast: a dissonance between the intact figure and the seemingly chaotic arrangement.

Membaca Batas Nurani (Reading the Boundaries of Conscience) presents a black canvas with expressive white strokes. Three doll figures are seen reading books while perched on a pencil sharpened at both ends, one white and the other black. For Samsul, black and white represent the eternal opposition between evil and good. Here, the visual tension between the orderly and the wild intertwines with the concept of dualism: "No matter how high one studies or seeks knowledge, it remains futile if one cannot discern good from evil," he states.

Samsul’s fabric dolls, depicted realistically, may evoke empathy and admiration for his artistic skill. Meanwhile, the tumultuous scribbles, defying the rules of form or line, reflect inner chaos or an uncontrollable world. When juxtaposed together, these two elements present a tension between stability and unrest. The dolls become entangled in a larger visual struggle—a world filled with harsh strokes, perhaps a symbol of mental turmoil, confusion, or even an inability to find wholeness.

In Samsul's work, the meeting of order and chaos portrays an effort to preserve something fragile amid an uncertain environment. The expressive strokes may symbolize an unending search for meaning, where the dolls—as symbolic objects of the past—struggle to endure within the unpredictable currents of life. Such narratives are evident in Keresahan si Petualang (The Restlessness of the Adventurer), where we find the artist's self-representation in a doll holding a brush. In Gugur (Fallen), we sense the tenuous connection between the doll figure and a dismembered body amidst a backdrop of wild lines depicting war. A ruined book lies on the ground, symbolizing the collapse of knowledge or truth.

In the exhibition title "The Quest," there lies more than just an ongoing artistic exploration by Samsul. The journey is one that never truly arrives at a destination. Within it, stories are wrapped in every pose and arrangement of the objects that fuel the artist’s obsession. Indeed, these stories can be very personal: the dolls that Samsul paints often reflect his life history. Yet, if we dare to immerse ourselves in a broader imagination, these dolls and pencils also speak not only of their creator's tales but about you and all of us, the human inhabitants of this planet.

Humans, as Harari notes, are not mere creatures of instinct; they are wanderers and seekers of meaning, builders of stories. Samsul's dolls reflect the human journey: from those who first carved stone tools to those who now construct theories to understand the universe. Humans survive not by their physical strength but by their ability to create myths and forge cooperation. In several sculptures that Samsul has developed from pencil objects (see: Catatan Hitam and Gelapnya Sejarah, translated respectively: 'Dark Notes' and 'The Shadows of History'), humanity creates history and knowledge as a 'myth' it cannot control, ultimately benefiting only a select few. Science and technology allow humans to conquer nature, combat diseases, and extend life. Both are extraordinary powers that have transcended the physical limits of humanity and ushered us into a new era where we no longer submit to the laws of nature but control them.

The irony accompanying this progress is that science is always a double-edged sword. It is not merely a tool for uncovering truth but part of the machinery of power— aligned with capitalism, imperialism, or specific ideologies. The scientific knowledge we acquire, rather than guiding us to enlightenment, is often directed towards exploitation, domination, and the accumulation of capital for maximum profit. In works like Gemah Ripah Loh Jinawi and Generasi Emas (Golden Generation), this critique is palpable. Through his plain fabric dolls, Samsul captures the absurdity of the promises of welfare offered by capitalist forces. Mendayung Mendulang (Paddling and Harvesting) for instance, depicts a simple doll rowing a boat filled with gold bars—a striking irony between innocence and greed. The boat seems to navigate a sea of illusions, a journey that appears to lead to prosperity, yet harbors uncertainty and ambiguity beneath the surface.

Science, in its modern guise, is not merely a neutral quest for truth. It has become an instrument of domination, a means for humanity to conquer the earth and all it contains. In the installation Anatomy dari Kata-kata (Anatomy of Words), Samsul illustrates this narrative through a shark's torn body washed up on the shore, seemingly symbolizing nature subdued before humanity. Yet most shocking is how the interior of the shark's body reveals not its natural organs but thousands of letters, suggesting that there are no longer mysteries unread or unsolved by humanity in this age. Knowledge, ultimately, has transformed the world into a text that can be fully dissected and owned.

It is not entirely misguided to associate "The Quest" with a religious journey. In conversations with me, Samsul once shared his dream of performing the Hajj. That desire was fulfilled last year, and from that spiritual experience, his works featuring dolls as travelers, like in "Endless Journey," gained a new layer of meaning. For Samsul, the human journey is inextricably linked to the pursuit of knowledge. Yet, in Samsul's view, still firmly holding his father's legacy, knowledge is not merely an end goal—it is both a guide and a refuge. In paintings like Sebaik-baiknya Bekal adalah Ilmu (The Best Provision is Knowledge) and Yang Menjaga Tempat Berlindung (The Guardian of a Shelter), Samsul depicts books as a metaphor representing knowledge. But as he further states, human knowledge should retain a spiritual and social dimension that must be preserved from extinction (see the books in the painting Penyelamat, translated: The Rescuer).

In Samsul Arifin's artistic journey, his 'obsession' with certain visual objects is not mere mechanical repetition. There is depth born from this persistence, driving him to explore questions that remain unresolved. Like a child endlessly playing with the same toy, Samsul, with his dolls and pencils, is reconstructing his own world, layer by layer. Every artist who engages with a single object, idiom, form, or style throughout their life is, in essence, carving a path towards a deeper understanding. Artistic obsession is a sign of total commitment to an idea—one that reflects how modern humans grapple with the complexities of the world.

Agung Hujatnikajennong

Bibliography
Samsul Arifin's solo exhibition catalogue, Goni's Journey, Galeri Semarang, 2008
Samsul Arifin's solo exhibition catalogue, The Maker, Ark Gallery, 2010
Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens, Jakarta: Kepustakaan Populer Gramedia, 2017