Immersive Art and Collaborations

The power of collaboration was evident throughout Art Jakarta 2024, especially in projects that brought together different artistic styles and mediums. One of the most talked-about exhibitions was "Mannerist Manifest", a collaboration between renowned Indonesian artists Mulyana and Yudi Sulistyo. Their work, displayed by Galeri Zen1, combined Mulyana’s wool-based art with Sulistyo’s intricate paper creations. "Kapal Tanpa Lautan" was a crowd favorite, depicting a fantastical cruise ship adorned with houses, cranes, and airships. It embodied a blend of realism and whimsy, inviting viewers to immerse themselves in the artists’ imaginative worlds. 

*Courtesy Photos Art Jakarta 2024 - (Top Left): Mr. Tom Tandio, the Art Jakarta Director, is giving the opening speech / One of the entrances to Art Jakarta at JIEXPO Kemayoran, North Jakarta / AJ Play by UOB Indonesia.

By Kerol Izwan

Switzerland has always held a special place in my heart. With each visit, I've marvelled at its picturesque beauty and the seemingly idyllic life of its people. Nestled within a landscape that changes with each season, Switzerland boasts stunning natural splendour and the comfort of safety, stability and prosperity, often ranking among the happiest places to live. Recently, I had the opportunity to revisit Switzerland after quite some time. I expected to be greeted once again by its astounding beauty, but little did I know that this trip would provide me with a fresh perspective and unveil new wonders.

My journey began at Zürich Airport, a testament to Swiss ingenuity which blends classic charm with modern efficiency. The airport's design, from its iconic typeface to its subtle colour palette, sets the tone for the traveller’s experience. Despite an exhausting 18-hour journey from Kuala Lumpur, I felt invigorated by the anticipation of what lay ahead. Leaving the country's capital behind, I embarked on a scenic, almost two-hour drive to Andermatt, a charming village in the heart of Switzerland. As we traversed winding roads, the views of the majestic Swiss Alps unfolded before me, each turn revealing a spectacular panorama of snow-capped peaks and quaint villages.

In Andermatt, the Gotthard region is renowned as a freeriding paradise in winter. According to trade magazines, Gemsstock is among the world's top off-piste areas, offering a variety of spots for skiers of all skill levels. Professionals can enjoy freeride skiing with descents featuring a 1,500m drop in elevation. For beginners like me or those seeking fun, gentler slopes are ideal to try out. However, nothing compares to the breathtaking view of the countless mountain peaks stretching from Ursen Valley to Oberalp Pass and Gotthard Pass. As they say, “Up with the gondola, down in the powder”.

No trip to Switzerland is complete without exploring the mountains by train, so I decided to take the Matterhorn Gotthard Railway. The train's bright red exterior made it look like a snake winding through the snowy mountains at every turn and corner. It was one of my favourite experiences, reigniting my childhood fascination with trains. Taking the panoramic train on the historic railway line via Göschenen was absolutely worth the time. After the train ride, I booked a Mybuxi, an e-hailing service in the village, to visit Cotton Club Andermatt, a lifestyle dining spot promising top-notch menus and premium nightlife, bringing Mediterranean vibes to the mountains.

Social media: @andermatt_swiss_alps/ @andermatt_vision/ #andermattswissalps #andermattvision #andermatt

From the day Norchung was born, he was destined to be a monk. Traditionally, every firstborn son in Tibet was to be dedicated to furthering Buddhism. In 1959, at 23 years of age, Norchung was forced to flee his monastery in Tibet to Mustang, India. Five years later, he went in search of his family, hearing that they had escaped to Nepal. On the way to Pokhara, through the harsh mountainous landscape and changes in altitude, he was reunited with his niece, Tsering, who had escaped traffickers at just six years old. It was a miracle. 

When they made it to Pokhara together, they were reunited with their family. They settled with the others in an unwanted area of the forest, where ghosts were believed to reside, beside a river where locals cremated the dead. There was no infrastructure. Most people had lost all their cattle in the chaos of leaving Tibet and had sold all their valuable belongings in order to reach Pokhara. They received aid from the World Health Organisation. Norchung worked any job he could find. He worked as a porter for road builders in the region, as well as carrying tourists’ heavy equipment across the Himalayan mountain ranges. Later in life, he made rugs and souvenirs to sell to tourists. He held on to his spiritual calling; he never married.

He told me his story as we sat outside of his humble home, built many years ago from mud. The first houses in the camp had been built from bamboo, then mud and now all around us, concrete houses were being built in anticipation of a cruel winter.

Norchung’s niece Tsering, now 67 years old, lived just a few steps away in a house she shared with her sister Tadon, who was a few years younger, as well as her two daughters. I barely recognised it as since the last time I visited four years ago, they had demolished their old mud home and rebuilt it with concrete. The new home was expected to last a hundred years, maybe even more.

The two women showed me around their new home. Portraits of the Dalai Lama adorned their walls. They don’t remember Tibet, but they had stories from Norchung and their parents. The rugs they had woven in the camp’s factory were lying on each bed, perfect for sleeping on. They took me to the factory where Tsering still worked, making tea and weaving rugs in her spare time. 

As tourists started coming to Nepal in the 1960s and the Tibetan cause gained popularity, foreigners visited the camp and spent their money here. The Tibetan community invested this into the factory and began selling rugs. This was the camp's main source of income which they channelled into the development of a temple, a school and a community hall. It rooted them in Nepal, their new home. It gave them opportunities to send their children to schools in Kathmandu and to train to become a nurse or a teacher, like Tsering and Tadon’s daughters.

But things had changed significantly since those years and while tourists still appreciate this community and fell in love with their artisanship, it was no longer a steady source of income. In the camp’s early days, the community lived and worked in the factory; babies were even born there. Now it was mostly locked up, used occasionally to weave a rug or two, with broken equipment and forgotten items abandoned.

When Covid-19 measures came into full effect worldwide, the stream of tourists stopped entirely, plugging out the community’s lifeline. While they had savings as a camp and were being supported by the Tibetan diaspora government, they struggled once again to sustain themselves. Unable to work and forced to stay inside except for limited times each day, they were reminded of the camp's beginnings, of how little they had, with no clothes, no books, when they had to rely upon their community, upon aid, and upon the kindness of strangers. 

“Standard of living is the main goal,” Tsering’s daughter whispered to me as we ate lunch together in their home and she told me about her plans for the future. Many of the women her age from the camp, with whom she had grown up, married foreigners and moved abroad. It was something she was hoping for herself, too. Despite being born in Nepal, she has no citizenship; all she has is a birth certificate. 

This is a shared story for many of her generation in the camp. Even though she was trained as a teacher, she would never be able to work in a Nepali school. Her goals for the future were pragmatic and logical, at the expense of the hope of finding love or happiness, or being able to preserve her culture. She would give all that up for a safe and stable life far away from the memories of her childhood and the experience of her parents.

Tsering’s daughter invited me to join them for a celebration the following day. I sat among the crowd in the community hall, facing the monks on the stage. Nearly every person in the room was holding on to their prayer beads and repeating words under their breath as officials gave out bottled water in the sweltering heat. It was a Buddhist prayer festival called “Guru Puja” and the community were praying for the blessing of all living things. 

Interview by Kerol Izwan

I remember meeting Nicholas at a cafe nearby his office, located in a docile neighbourhood not far from Sydney. After a laid-back conversation, he gave me a tour of his office, where we continued talking about his design preferences and aesthetics. At that time, Nicholas was running a magazine called Hey Gents, a handsome guide magazine for gentlemen. We stayed connected after that and kept tabs of each others’ work. After producing six issues of Hey Gents, Nicholas decided to put a pause on that and moved on to Softer Volumes, a hardcover book packed with guides and stunning photos. I was eager to learn about this transition process in detail.

On Instagram, he is constantly seen gallivanting from Sydney to Porto, Bali to Kuala Lumpur, as well as exploring every nook and cranny of Italian streets, sharing handsome photos of his journey. A dream job!

In the interview, Nicholas shared the virtue of mixing business with pleasure, the challenges of sharing his work with the rest of the world, as well as living a dream life in Bali.

1. Hello Nick, how have you been? It has been a while since the last time we met in Sydney. I’m excited you agreed to be part of this issue. Please share with our readers a bit about yourself.

Hi Kerol. I’m very well, thank you. Yes, that coffee meeting we had below our old office feels like ages ago now – I probably would have picked a nicer café if I knew it would be mentioned in an interview years later!

I’m from Sydney and co-founded a publication called Softer Volumes with my business partner, Joe Vuong. I’m mainly responsible for the creative direction and managing the content team, along with various graphic design and photography work. This year, I’ve been working remotely. I spent three months in Portugal at the start of the year and have now been in Bali for about five months.

2. You ran the men’s style magazine Hey Gents last time (I loved your work!). What made you decide to halt the production of Hey Gents and launch a new publication? What was the spark?

The move from Hey Gents to Softer Volumes was actually more like a natural evolution of the publication than a decision to stop one and start another. Hey Gents began as a men’s style blog, and over the years, we introduced new categories such as interior design, architecture, travel, etc. As our content topics broadened, our readership grew closer to a balance of men and women. After extensive consideration, we decided the publication’s name should embrace our entire audience, rather than only partly. That was the main motivation – to better represent the community we had built.