puppeteer, the storyteller—made a pledge to their ancestors, a promise to nature. If we do not abide by tradition when we begin work, we feel we have transgressed this promise, committed a wrong. The craftsman perceives this bond with his heritage. We always feel that something is guiding us, instructing us. The creative experience of the craftsman convinces us that what we create does not emerge from our individual creative resources alone. It emanates from the legacy, the spirit, the soul of the old. This is what really creates and serves as the source, the root, the origin. It remains as a guardian to the spirit of this civilization through the generations.
Asia and the Malay Peninsula showing the location of present-day Kelantan, Terengganu and Pattani.
Details are drawn on to the hilt after it has been roughly blocked with an adze (cetar).
An essential part of the carving process is constant evaluation of the piece being worked on. Many hours, even days, are spent studying and assessing the form and working out the evolution of the design. Nik Rashiddin, who always carved with his left hand, is holding a carving knife (pisau wall) used to etch out the detail.
The late Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein carving a hilt for a keris tajong.
This bond is essential. Every creation of the craftsman must have a point of reference. When we want to create a piece of work, we must first perceive its history and from its history, its shape, style, design. Only then can we arrive at a stage of making. The craftsman imbibes the spirit of his civilization from an artefact, from its surface since each artefact is invested with a spirit that endures. We are able to absorb it because the original makers created and invested it with a sensibility, the effects of which can still be felt. The original makers had a real sense of purpose, one that arose from their veneration and apprehension of their civilization.
This is what we need to talk about. The dimensions, proportions, perceptions are difficult to appreciate today because people have become 'plastic'. We have become a breed that simply cannot embrace such depth. There are no people who are distinct and unique who do not boast the support of a civilization. If you are severed from your civilization, you will certainly meet with error. A civilization is a constant reference, a marker, a presence. It is something the craftsman experiences all the time. Whether he is aware of it or not, he has an unwritten reference to this civilization.
The work of a craftsmen, if it is not anchored in a civilization, becomes mere trend. We have to return to the past to demonstrate what we possess, what has been determined faithfully by a preceding civilization that now waits to be clarified, explained in terms of its genealogy, lineage, ancestry. And this ancestry is clear. It possesses feet and hands and touch. It exists in the material, in wood, in cloth and in gold. I feel, and the craftsman feels, and this feeling is potent. Even if we do not want to experience these feelings, they will nevertheless descend; the blood ties of old... not just a mere generation or two but extending five, six generations.
Craftsmen today still have faith in the guru asal and we still possess the artefacts of our civilization. These artefacts need not necessarily be a structure, such as Borobudur or Angkor Wat. They can be a piece of broken wood, a shard of glass, but they still have a story. It is in this that we must seek deeper, keeping the faith, for we must realize that art and all creation does not come about through an individual's creative resources alone. A work of art is a legacy bequeathed by a civilization that is faithful to its particular way of life, its religion. That which is a result of individual creativity does not endure. It is the sensibility and knowledge that is supported by religion and a civilization that lasts. That is why we have to return to Langkasuka.
I have long thought about it and believe that we cannot use any other term. The craftsman believes such a civilization exists. The intellectual studies notes; we have to study the earth, its origins. As a craftsman, I am convinced from the point of view of craftsmanship. The existence of this civilisation is obvious in the design, form, motif. The work of our predecessors was all wrought with the soul, with the mata hati, with a sensibility and not mere feeling—they used thought, not their passion. If you use only passion you will not succeed in conveying the message. Certainly, the process of creation is clear in the decoration, embellishment, style and symbol of their craft. Most importantly, you perceive a current from this civilization. It does not speak of wealth or riches but tells of the experience of a people past who were faithful to their way of life, who were unwilling to go against the ways of their civilization. Each work possesses its own measure, skill, symbol, identity—an identity that emerges from the earth. It does not come from the sky or the people, but from the earth.
PANEL (AR002A)
Masjid Aur Menatjung, Pattani, pre-18th c., medang hitam wood, 35.5 x 20.3 x 1 cm
A fragment of a panel from above a wall aperture, executed in tebuk tembus berukir, roughly translated as the fully pierced and carved technique. Discarded from a very early mosque in Pattani, it demonstrates the qualities found in early Langkasukan design which embodied restrained symmetry and balance and a fluid and natural line. The Langkasukan motifs, symbolic of early Hindu iconography, are joined by a complex interplay of stems. Medang hitam wood is considered to have spiritual qualities, and as such is suitable also for making religious artefacts, such as book rests (rehal) for the Koran (see page 107).
If you understand and appreciate matters of embellishment, decoration, design and style, you will perceive the closeness of these people to nature. In nature, they do not live in wealth, with a sense of T, 'my race'... no... they are close to nature, unwilling to overturn a log of wood, disturb a shrub. They are familiar with nature and understand that everything is shared between people and plants and that they are compelled to expressing this closeness. People who understand what influences their thoughts and shapes their character understand that nature feeds the soul. It is a realization that comes from a spirit that is rooted in a civilization. This cannot be experienced in an urban setting. If I want to speak on the history of the keris, I cannot do it at the KLCC [Kuala Lumpur City Centre]; I need to be by the banks of the Kelantan and Pattani rivers, talk in places where the soul and spirit of my heritage exist.
A sensibility, an experience is not something I can talk of easily. I can sit here and speak of it only because I want to share the experience, the experience of the smell of wood, its feel, its sharpness, the texture of the grindstone. If we can truly imbibe and experience this we may become, at least for a while, stone, wood... we may enter. That is why we cannot leave history behind because history is a reference for all these experiences. You cannot discover this in a library or an institution of higher learning. You have to meet the craftsman....
Detail of the tail of a ceremonial bird (see pages 114-15), showing the symmetrical design of flowers and leaves of the keraknasi plant (lit. scrapings from the rice pot which resemble the way in which the leaves of this plant curl). While the motifs on each side of the tail share a common shape, the details in each vary, testimony to the woodcarver's attention to detail and to his artistry.
Footnote
* Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein, master carver and charismatic savant of Malay woodcarving philosophy, was convinced that the motifs and designs of the carvings of northeastern
