Collaboration: Many craftsmen will work on a singular piece
Heritage and religious tradition run deep in Bali. On the island, temples have been the accidental protectors of ancient crafts and arts, keeping people in jobs in villages across the predominantly Hindu province.
Craftsmanship dating back centuries is still in play in these villages, according to one master who makes Barong, the sacred animal effigies that dance from temple to temple during ceremonies.
These great animals ' with their wild boar (babi hutan) or ket heads, snapping jaws and sinuous bodies ' are accompanied on their temple travels by the black-magic Rangda monsters.
The two embody good and evil. 'Without one, there is not the other,' says Ruka, the maker of these sacred creatures.
The master is speaking at his Batuan home, where his students and members of his family have been producing such things for temples for four generations.
The space in front of the house has been given over to a shop full of giant Rangda, their massive eyes malevolent, while staring Barong heads rest on counter tops.
Nearby, dozens of exquisite gelungan, the headdresses worn by traditional Balinese dancers, are stored in glass cabinets.
At the rear of the shop, Ruka's family compound is a hive of activity. Young men carve the masks while women stitch and bead gilted headbands for the gelungan.
This is a view of a type of family life that has not changed for more than a century, says Ruka as he marks up cow hides to make the Barong and gelungan.
Designs are drawn onto the hide as guides for the carving. They are highly intricate drawings which take several days to etch.
The patterns are then carved out of the hide, which is very tough.
'I use Balinese cow hide because it is thicker and stronger than other cattle hides. Buffalo hide is too expensive and is not readily available. Balinese cattle are a pure native breed, so their hides are very good,' says Ruka.
'The designs are from the early days ' the patterns we follow ' but these can be combined to make new forms. Within that freedom, we are always using the old designs, so we use ancient symbols in new ways,' says Nyoman citing the symbols typically found on a Barong as example.
'These symbols have meaning, such as the padma, or lotus; the faces of dragons and the Garuda bird. There are also giant faces on the Barong decorations,' says Ruka.
Following tradition, Nyoman continues to grind and mix his paints to color the Barong and gelungan.
It takes more than a month to complete a Barong's carvings.
'The Barong is an orange color made from grinding ochre. The black I make by burning coconut oil lamps and then collecting the soot ' that takes a full day. Whites I make by grinding bone and the red is imported powder from China called Gincu,' says Ruka as he works with pottery mixing bowls and a stone pestle that have grown smooth with years of use.
Used generously on all Nyoman's temple handcrafts is gilt, which causes them to glisten and shine like gold. This can be seen most clearly on the gelungan worn for the legong or jauk dances, as well as the baris dance, which is performed only within the hallowed grounds of a temple.
The gelungan that Ruka has crafted for the baris will sussurate like leaves in the wind when the dancer moves. The mask has been crafted so that dozens of petals shimmy on fine springs, also made in Ruka's workshop.
'The baris gelungan takes a long time to create ' more than a month. Each petal needs to be carved from mother of pearl, and of course this easily cracks, so we need a lot of these petals,' he adds.
Ruka points to another glittering headdress used for the jauk mask dance. It looks almost like a golden temple, with carved upright wings, a red flag in miniature and dozens of cone shaped beads.
These Barong, headdresses and monsters being brought to life in Ruka's workshop are essential to the daily lives of people in Bali. Dozens of families are directly employed in the creation of temple needs.
'I have had many students, not just from my village, but from Ubud and beyond learning the skills here and then opening their own home industries making Barong and gelungan headdresses,' Ruka says. 'These skills are expanding and are not being lost at all. I see no risk of that. These skills are hundreds of years old and are our heritage ' our cultural heritage.'
Ruka does not work alone, depending on other specialists, such as rotan workers, who create the basket-like frames for the headdresses. The division of labor offers families more jobs.
Quietly carving and sanding the masks in Ruka's workshop are his students, 18-year-old Hendra and 22-year-old Pande.
The pair have trained under Ruka for more than a decade, coming to his house after school to learn how to craft Barong and gelungan until they were old enough to work and study with the master full time.
Hendra takes the long view, saying that he wants to learn a skill that he could pass to his children one day. 'Everyone on our village ' all the kids ' want to learn leather carving. It is the tradition of our village and there is a lot of support for this art from our community.
'This is something that gives us knowledge and work we can pass to our grandschildren, just as this was passed down to us.'
' Photos by J.B.Djwa
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