Matahati, Malaysia’s leading contemporary art collective, is concurrently exhibiting their work at four different galleries, with work categorized by different themes.

At Galeri Petronas, the work of the collective -- comprising Ahmad Fuad Osman, Ahmad Shukri Mohamed, Bayu Utomo Radjikin, Hamir Soib @ Mohamed and Masnoor Ramli Mahmud -- is given the header “Early Years, Developments & Explorations, Humanity & Community”. Its a befitting introduction to this seminal group of artists who formed the collective in the late 1980’s, having met at Universiti Teknologi Mara (UiTM) as students.


The day I visit, there is a sizeable amount of visitors whose presence lend to my experience in the gallery. Whilst this arguably discounts objectivity in viewing the works, it is entirely unavoidable and offers a trajectory in how these works relate to its audience. It also informs my position as a viewer, my identity and that of Malaysian society.

Speaking in Tongues

But first, the art: what greets audiences is Masnoor Ramli’s video projection of pyrotechnics titled Independence (Something to Remember) (2004), signaling a somewhat 'big bang' as this major retrospective celebrates the achievements of these 'activist' artists in the last two decades; it also represents the most comprehensive account of their work to date.

In the first passage is a row of square, white frames that appear to contain, well, nothing; white-upon-white contrast steadily against the dark wall and the frames are arranged irregularly at eye-level. At the end though, one frame looks to have escaped from the pack, much like an exclamation mark at the end of a sentence.

Confronted with such a minimalist piece of work, I stopped myself from reading the placard first and step back to contemplate the piece. The notion of the void and some comparisons from the body of conceptual art sprung to mind, along with a rather crass interpretation of genetics and its relation to identity.

The placard negated my loose interpretation and forced a reinvestigation of the piece. Titled Jawi II (1999), each frame in the work contains a single Braille letter, apart from the last, which carries an entire sentence. At once, I am confounded by my illiteracy – I cannot read Arabic or Braille – and this arguably posits me, as a reader, even further from the piece than before, when I assumed it was a conceptual void.

This ultimately brings up the question of language and its inherent problem of distancing individuals. Are humanity and community – the main themes of the exhibition - subject to the restrictions of language, and, can visual art overcome this gulf?

The answer may be found in Bayu Utomo Radjikin’s work, Qiblat (2006). It is a large three-panel oil painting featuring distinctively Malay iconography; the male in the center, dressed in traditional Baju Melayu, is flanked by religious artefacts: the Qur’an on his left, and, a cokma on his right.

Malay, Muslim and masculine identity is present, along with an overriding sense of power, which is exemplified by the choice of iconography, the scepter, for example. The entire painting features a relief of verse in Jawi and the towering male figure, poised to strike, possesses a threatening presence as we are denied the privilege of seeing his face.

Bayu Utomo’s painting reminded me of the Rosetta Stone. Both feature writing on dark slate. The Rosetta Stone was pivotal in linguistic development; it marked the beginning of the decipherment of hieroglyphs. To a lesser degree, the same can be said of this painting and indeed, the entire exhibition, as it functions as an educational tool, allowing viewers to learn and better identify with a different culture, community and religion. And, as hinted in the exhibition handout, this then enables the self to begin “to view the world”.

Sacred Art

Across the room is Infinity Series (2007), also by the same artist. Three large portraits of a Malay male line the wall. In the first, he is shown looking to our left and his blue face is offset by a green headscarf, whilst the on the other side, he is shown in reverse colours; in the middle, he is given natural skin-tone and wears a red headscarf. Despite the chromatic oddity of their faces, the two auxiliary figures wear comparatively benign expressions to the middle figure, whose pensive expression suggests serious matters.

My contemplation of this piece and its quasi-religious aura, with its links to religious panel paintings, was rudely interrupted by the presence of three curious teenagers, one of whom proceeded to crudely touch the canvas of the blue-faced man.

I emitted a loud exclamation and an accusatory glare that seemed sufficient to stop them from committing further heinous acts and they walked away from my vicinity briskly. I suddenly feel like an art vigilante  and wonder if Bayu Utomo’s men are pleased that I saved them from further assaults. I reckon though that the owners, who have kindly loaned these valuable pieces for the retrospective, would be far more grateful.

Nearby is a work that does necessitate audience participation. Mansoor Ramli’s Faith (2004) is contained in a small, dark enclave. It features a video installation of a flickering candle and a common rattan chair, along with a stethoscope for viewers to listen to their own heartbeat.

This piece evokes the seventeenth-century vanitas painting, whereby various iconographical elements – candle included – remind viewers of their own mortality. Apt, as Matahati, meaning “eye of the soul”, “suggests a direct form of witnessing as well as a sense of reflection”, as indicated in the exhibition catalogue.

I considered hunting down the teenager and sitting him in front of this piece to think about what he’d done, but felt this contradictory to the themes espoused in the exhibition; a sense of “community” would certainly be lost if I adopted such matronly practices.

The Politics of "Me"

The next room features a selection of large canvas paintings by members of the collective. Akulah Yang Benar (1995), also by Mansoor Ramli, stands out with its visceral message, heightened by bold and violent brushstrokes of warm colours that denote a chaotic environment; yellow and brown are punctuated with thick black lines (a skeleton can be discerned in the upper-right hand corner) and words are scrawled in blood-red.

Two bald figures face each other with forked-tongues projecting crudely. They tote guns, wear military insignia and their conflicting screams emblazon the canvas: “akulah yang betul!!” (“I’m right!!) is refuted by the words at the bottom of the canvas, “tak… kau salah… aku lagi betul!” (“no… you’re wrong… I’m more right!”).

Coincidentally, I viewed this late on polling day of the 2008 Malaysian General Elections and the issues conveyed in this piece, completed over a decade earlier, remains timely. As history is being (re)written, the issue of conflict (be it political or social) continue to plague us; individuals turn to defensive behaviour, failing to address the heart of the matter, thus it is even more poignant that Mansoor Ramli paints a crass representation of the figures’ hearts to indicate a lack thereof.

Baling Revistited

More contrasts are presented in the next room: Ahmad Shukri’s Incubator (2003) stands opposite Ahmad Fuad’s Keluarga Pak Mat, Baling, Kedah (2004). In the latter, the artist has starched a selection of clothing from Pak Mat’s family. On a clothesline, we see a clear juxtaposition of the old and new; batik sarongs hang next to inverted denim jeans, kebaya blouses next to a Gap tank top and Bob Marley t-shirts tell us to “emancipate yourself (sic) from mental slavery”. Undergarments are also on display, thus banishing the realm between private and public.

For viewers, especially urban ones, the subject matter is challenging; it is likely that this is as close as most will get to the private life of a family like Pak Mat’s. Both visual and material contrasts surface from the clothing in the artwork and of its audience. Indeed, for some, a single item of clothing on their back may cost more than everything combined in the artwork. This conclusion is, of course, the result of contextualizing the artwork, but this does not make its intention any less meaningful.

In fact, the message becomes more potent. To borrow a line from the exhibition handout, this work contemplates "the precariousness of social relations"; we hear echoes of the 1970s Baling farmers revolt, along with hints of contemporary social disparities. Altogether, dialecticism is prevalent and this piece presents the opportunity for dialogue on class relations, social inequalities and the rift that separates urban and rural Malaysians.

Adjacent to this work is Incubator (2003), a large plexiglass case balanced atop traditional carved-wooden legs, containing a group of porcelain eggs that rest snugly on cotton wool. The eggs -- mostly white with minor inclusions of black ones -- are heated by delicate fairy lights that jut from the roof of the artist’s replica rumah Melayu. On opposing sides of the walls is the yin-yang symbol, whilst seemingly innocuous letterings adorn the remaining walls. 

However, the letters -- JMN, KMN, JSM, PJN, PK, PKBDKM, DMN, etc. -- are titles awarded by the state / monarch – awards that confer status to its recipient. Tales of the lack of meritocracy in the selection of the recipients of these titles are not uncommon and it is interesting to consider whether a member of Pak Mat’s family would ever have the privilege of using these letterings after their name.

I am uncertain whether or not this was a tactical and concerted move by the curatorial department, but nevertheless, it is a commendable one as the juxtaposition of Ahmad Fuad’s work and Incubator offer an interesting platform for comparison and examination of social disparities present in today’s Malaysia.

Hands on Art

In the next section, “Humanity”, some clichés abound. This is not to say that the message isn’t clear, it is perhaps a little too obvious, which contrasts starkly with preceding works that possess acute dialecticism.

Debate is stifled, for these images -- so oversaturated in the media -- do little for the viewer owing to very obvious symbolism: guns, skeletons, and children victimized by war. They rest comfortably under the generic umbrella of “Humanity”, but I question if they do move us to be more empathetic and charitable, as espoused in the catalogue. Will these images be forgotten once audiences set foot outside Galeri Petronas and into the field of consumerist temptations that make up most of Suria KLCC?

Ahmad Shukri’s Sidang Rakyat Series #1 (2002) is an interesting installation that provides much welcomed visual departure. A large number of plaster-cast boxing gloves flood the round table framed by our state flags, denoting the Malaysian parliament. The table’s valance cloth is a patchwork of traditional fabrics indigenous to our region and this is repeated in the cushion-covers of the seven stools in the work.

Sidang Rakyat Series #1is about political debate at national level, though I have a first-hand encounter of the work on a completely different plane; the battle of the rakyat ensues and the art vigilante strikes again…

A young man sits on one of the stools and I wonder if the artwork welcomes such interaction from its audience, or, if we are to enjoy it from a distance as dictated by the traditional relationship between audience and artwork. However, an earlier incident repeats itself, as my thoughts are disrupted by this man’s act of tapping strongly on one of the plaster casts, then picking it up for closer inspection.

I am aghast and strike with a reprimand. I am unsettled and the perpetrator remains seated furtively at the scene of the crime, throughout my retelling of events to one of the gallery staff.

Afterwards, I walked to the corner where the perpetrator sat and there is a notable amount of plaster chips and dust on the table. The poor boxing glove also sits off tangent; it looks rather defeated, as it sticks out from its cousins that remain in their designated spots, purposeful and stealth-like.

I am tempted to move it, to restore the former glory it enjoyed until five minutes earlier, but I refrain from touching it – the other boxing gloves seem to say, “just leave us alone.”

There is irony in being greeted by Bayu Utomo’s Warbox in the next gallery, a large wooden box that does call for audience interaction.

From the exterior, Warbox looks like a large transportation box, though each wall panel features different images; there is a montage of war images in one, a target painted in red and white, masked soldiers and, on the panel with the camouflage print, a trap door or window that transports audience into a dimly lit room, which recalls interrogation rooms from war movies.

Stencilled white adjectives in BM line the walls and the words “gugur”, “dalam”, “luah” and “sendiri” stand out. Once again, it is time for introspection and, whilst on this occasion another viewer doesn’t interrupt my experience, the ferocious air-conditioning does.

At Galeri Petronas, I was confronted with two incidents that raised the subject of our identity as viewers, the relationship that we have to art and culture and whether the complex issues espoused in the works get lost in the process of viewing? And, is the subject of community torn further apart as some fail to recognize the potential of art being a powerful tool for debate and cognitive development?

Matahati’s attempt at resolving these issues are evident and a colossal exhibition like this (there are 107 works in total!) is commendable. As viewers, careful consideration of these works allow socio-political themes to prevail and assist in our understanding of who we are, where our place in society is and what issues, for example language, need to be overcome to forge a stronger sense of community, as these artists have successfully done as a collective, whist retaining their individuality.

But, please, do not touch the art works.


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Having read History of Art, Rachel Jena possesses the innate ability to confuse and confound.


Read Nur Hanim Khairuddin's review of the same exhibition here

MATAHATI : For Your Pleasure ends on 14 April 2008. For further information, visit our Events Listing.