Edward Hutabarat: National Pride

The new king of batik design is holding court. Beside the pool of his South Jakarta mansion, surrounded by nodding friends and colleagues – the people who have known him through the various career incarnations that brought him to where he is today – he talks volubly and floridly about the things that matter most in his life.

His voice rises indignantly when he discusses his concerns, from the lack of taste of government officials, his no-love-lost relationship with the media and the preoccupation with making easy money that dooms Indonesia to stagnation. Not for the timid, his forthright statements bear no resemblance to the usual milquetoast sound bites in the local fashion industry, where big brand name concerns tend to command and demand.

In 2006, he was typically outspoken when he went before legislators to query the anti-pornography bill. “Am I also subject to the bill?” he asked them of his coffee-table book about traditional attire.

“I really don’t care what people say about what I do anymore, there’s only five to 10 people whose opinion matters to me,” says Hutabarat, better known as Edo.

He throws up his hands in exasperation about media scribes, who he complains do not understand his message. “Can’t stand them,” he says at one point. “I’m very selective about the media I’ll talk to.”

Clearly, the designer does not answer to anyone. Not anymore.

“I’m my own boss, I can wake up at whatever time I want to. My mother was my boss, but she died last year. I would have to get up to accompany her because she was already 86.”

It’s also the freedom of speech that comes with success, and being a pioneer –not once, but twice – in his field. He was dubbed Indonesia’s Emanuel Ungaro for his opulent designs in the 1980s, something he hated. “I was really taken aback when someone said that, because it was like I was taking on the identity of someone else, and I didn’t want to do that.”’

So he set about finding himself, and carved out a role as the champion of Indonesian national dress, from reviving interest first in the kebaya (traditional blouse) beginning in the late 1990s and again with today’s startling batik bonanza.

Batik, the traditional Javanese fabric that was de rigeur formal wear, has long had its diligent champions in the Indonesian fashion world, from Eurasian well-to-do women during the colonial era, Iwan Tirta to Josephine Komara, better known as Obin. But, except for stuffy official ceremonies and wedding receptions, well-heeled Indonesians with a penchant for all things branded did not give it a passing thought.

Hutabarat’s creativity has brought it to another level. He has taken the traditional batik motifs of Pekalongan, Yogyakarta and Malang and put them on camisoles, minidresses, jackets and accessories in a gorgeous tour de force. He has even been able to make Cirebon’s swirling, lava lamp-like cloud patterns of mega mendung ultrastylish and, most importantly, wearable.

It’s younger, more spirited, modern: definitely not your daddy’s batik.

“I love Edo’s work, because he has made batik not just fashion, but also stylishly designed,” says Catherina Widjaja, the managing director of the Indonesiana emporium Alun-Alun.

“I love the A lin design he does with batik as well as the minidresses you can wear casually with your low-heel Chanel pumps or ballerina shoes and Gucci sunglasses,” adds Catherina, who has a batik coat and fur bag with batik quilted lining from the Part One collection.

His creations, as well as the incensed reaction to Malaysia patenting several motifs, have whipped up interest in batik. There is a whole slew of new batik designers, as well as the established houses sprucing up their offerings.

Hutabarat emphasizes that he is not a batik artist, but a designer who has taken replicas of traditional designs and brought them up to date to fit into a modern lifestyle. But there is more to what he does than taking the motifs and methodically putting them on fabric.

“Right now there are many people producing batik, but they’ve lost the soul. From the beginning when I did batik, I looked at how my batik would connect with Bottega Veneta, with Hermes’ Kelly bag, with Yves Saint Laurent’s Rive Gauche bag, Miu-Miu shoes, that’s globalization ... I don’t want my collection used with local shoes, it can’t be done. Even the earrings can be simple, but they should be Tiffany.”

It’s not about being snobbish, but being on one level with the exclusive brands and putting Indonesia out there as an equal through its beautiful, ultrastylish batik. It’s also part of his dream to make Jakarta a valid member of the global cosmopolitan lifestyle.

Hutabarat is proud that his designs have come so far but there is always the polluting specter of “money, money, money”, he warns.

“Please don’t just make it business. There is a responsibility there. Once you’ve started with batik, play with it, live with it, love it. Don’t just make it the intermezzo because the market and demand is up ... Go to the batik artists, talk to them, learn from them ...”

He knows from experience the fickle tides of fashion. At first, people mocked his kebaya designs as more suitable for famed traditional singer Waljinah. Then they exploded in popularity, and the followers quickly jumped on the bandwagon.

It became, he says with a shudder, “a circus”.

“Can you imagine, they put fur on them, with embroidery, hats, everything ... about the only thing they didn’t put on them were the Victoria’s Secret wings ...  Kebaya has to be symmetrical, because that is what all Indonesian national attire is, it should be symmetrical and have simplicity. When it’s not symmetrical, then it’s your opinion. It was really frightening.”

He is true to his word about keeping things simple. A couple of models are hovering in the background for a photo shoot. He preps one – wearing a scarlet mega mendung minidress – but the exotic accessories culled from trips around the archipelago are deemed unnecessary.
“Let the batik talk. This is its era now. It’s our hope, it’s something that can help Indonesia rise up. But don’t just make it for a short time. I need everybody to help.”

He is trying to ensure the fabric reaches wider audiences and endures through a targeted, professional approach, producing a website, documentary on batik and elegant English-language catalogues of his collections (the first featured actress Dian Sastro, the second model-actress Mariana Renata).

He is proud to say he is a Sukarnoist, a fan of the leader who appreciated the diversity and pluralism of this polyglot nation and was a citizen of the world, with an interest in art and proficiency for languages. He says pointedly that the problem today is few of the country’s leaders possess Sukarno’s taste, and money is instead their all-consuming passion.

“Edo is someone who has great creativity and is a quick learner,” says former top model Okky Asokawati.  “His love of beauty and of Indonesia has allowed him to produce beautiful works and become a trend-setter for those who love ethnic-glam.”

It could be said that Hutabarat’s career, moving from Western-inspired designs to traditional clothing with a modern makeover, was also part of his own personal journey of understanding this country and himself.

“Fifteen years ago, I didn’t want to go out if I wasn’t in a Mercedes. I wore tuxedos to sitting dinners, shopping in Singapore with a trolley at Glamourette. But I’m tired of all that – tired,” he says, elongating the word for emphasis.

“Now we’re global. It’s not about the watch you wear, but what’s in your mind and how you can build your environment. What else do we have to bring to the outside world but what is Indonesian ...”

He breathlessly lists the many treasures to be found in Indonesia. He knows, for he has been to those places, traveling and learning from the traditional cake sellers he has met on the streets of Palembang, South Sumatra, to the masked dance groups eking out a living a stone’s throw from the Yogya palace.

Hutabarat is contemptuous of the photo op junkets and ribbon cutting at palaces and heritage sites in the name of cultural promotion (“it’s all on the surface, but we love it”).

“Why doesn’t our tourism minister set up a vocational school in Sumba where people can study how to change bedsheets, make a proper omelet and coffee, tea, and learn to speak English.

They can work at the hotels there and communicate well. That’s just eastern Indonesia.

Instead, Indonesia is known as an exporter of housemaids ...”

He is impassioned and a bit frustrated, one man doing what he can to make some changes. A man on a mission, perhaps, but on his own terms.

“I am not a businessman, I don’t care how many stores I have,” he says as the late-afternoon dim brings our conversation to a close. “The important thing in my life is that I’ve made Indonesians love their kebaya, love their batik. And now I’m thinking of the next step so that batik has a long life.”

Photos by Adi Wahono

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