Historicising the Artist: an Exploration of S. Sudjojono

Sudjojono holds claim to a large impact on Southeast Asian art even today, as his impact spreads beyond Indonesia. Closer to home, Singapore has actively shaped the reception of this pioneer through different exhibitions and talks throughout the years. The National Gallery Singapore’s UOB Southeast Asia Gallery owns and displays Kami Present, Ibu Pertiwi (Stand Guard for our Motherland). Syed Muhd Hafiz, a curator who has worked on Sudjojono exhibitions here in Singapore, explained that "Sudjojono's is a name you still hear, and his iconic articles are still revisited."⁷

What does it mean when humans and legacies are curated and displayed by institutions?⁸ This article seeks to act as a starting point in historicising Sudjojono – instead of taking state narratives at face value, it seeks to take him out of “history” into being an object of historical interest himself. How was Sudjojono a product of his times, and who does his legacy benefit? With a more complete picture of the forces that shaped his life, his contributions to Indonesia and Southeast Asia can be better understood above and beyond his physical outputs.

The maestro and nationalist

Most would begin telling the story of Sudjojono in the 1930s, when he was a young artist unimpressed with colonial nostalgia in art.⁹ In 1938, he co-founded an art group called PERSAGI, with the painters envisioning a modern Indonesian art style they could call their own. Sudjojono artfully blended nationalist views into his work and "shot to the fore of the Indonesian art scene”.¹⁰ He also led and directed PUTERA, a nationalist art body headed by Sukarno, and led and orchestrated another movement called SIM where he worked on anti-Dutch and revolutionary posters.

By the 1950s following Indonesia’s independence, his art style was intensely realistic, capturing the struggles and hopes of this new nation.¹¹ Sudjojono wrote: “Painters of Indonesia! If there is still any of your own blood in your breast [...] leave your tourist-like sphere, break the chains that restrain the freedom of your blood”.12 He was very involved in LEKRA, the cultural arm of the PKI (Communist Party of Indonesia) which included the arts, and even served as an MP for the party.

In 1959, after a personal spat with the party, he retreated from politics and focused on his artistic career. He mostly painted landscapes, nudes, and still lifes, which did not appeal to the larger public as much as his previous works did.¹³ In 1986, he died of complications from lung cancer.¹⁴

The coolie's son

Thus goes the legend of Sudjojono - a heroic nationalist-artist-politician, friends with Sukarno, changed a nation. But he did not procure the tools that led to his pioneership of a new movement out of nothing and for no reason. His real story begins in his formative years, from birth to age 22, and his childhood experiences which helped to shape this whole new future in art.

At the turn of the century, in the late 1890s to the early 1900s, the Dutch colonial empire famously introduced the Ethical Policy in the Indies, a move ostensibly motivated by moral awakenings with regard to the oppression of colonial subjects.¹⁵ This included the establishment of Dutch schools in the Indies for indigenous students to attend, as well as the wider adoption of the Western economic system, both of which triggered rapid social change.

Sudjojono was born and raised in Kisaran, North Sumatra at the tail end of Dutch colonial control, at the cusp of new national realities and possibilities. In his own words, his earliest life experiences were "dirty and full of misery".¹⁶ He started working at an extremely young age, hunting wild boar and sell it to Chinese shops. During that time, parts of North Sumatra were still under Dutch authority,¹⁷ and indigenous populations were still living in poor conditions and extremely undercompensated. Sudjojono wrote that his father only received a coolie's salary of 33 cents a day whereas the Dutch gave their “wasteful” pet dogs 50 cents worth of meat each day. Such details add to the understanding of the spread of the Ethical Policy, and the actual effectiveness of its implementation at the margins of the country. For Sudjojono, this also suggests the beginning of a (justifiable) bitterness towards the Dutch.

At five years old, Sudjojono was sent to live with a farmer’s family as his own could not afford to feed him. This was a turning point for him – although he still had to work, this new area that he lived in had a school. At ages 9 and 11, he met P Post and Pak Yudho (an Indonesian teacher and a Dutch teacher) who would turn out to be critical figures in his life. P Post introduced him to the artist Mas Pirngadie. Pak Yudho was a painter himself and nourished his interests, especially his intellectual pursuits, lending Sudjojono books with nationalist sentiments and discussing philosophy and religion with him. At age 15, Sudjojono enrolled in a teaching school (subsidised by the Ethical Policy) where he notably learned English, world history, Indonesian history, and was highly inspired by the teachers there.¹⁸ His school experiences, and being allowed to weave in and out of different schools easily, tell us about the flexible administrative aspect of education at that time as students were likely poor and helping family out with work as well. On one occasion he met someone named Sulaiman from his football group, and together they went on a trip to Yogyakarta by sea. This is when his nationalist spirit, previously still sparking, truly caught on fire.

The successful artist

How do we reconcile the maestro and the coolie’s son with a critical eye? Sudjojono is put on a pedestal of heroic levels - a poor man unafraid of fighting for his cause, who against all odds changed the course of Indonesian art forever, becoming the face of the space between nationalism and culture. True as this may be, truth is a space of many shades of grey.

Firstly, learning of his background explains that Sudjojono was not a nobody who became somebody all of a sudden. Poor as he was financially, he received many years of education, many years of artistic mentorship, could read and write in three languages, was well-read and well-versed, and had healthy connections, networks, and contacts.

Secondly, what some might overlook is that creating something new and different is what we in the 21st century would now call “innovative” or “disruptive”. And innovative, disruptive products are extremely sought after because originality is marketable and can be highly profitable. Sudjojono was undoubtedly a true artist. He was an artist even when he was living painting to painting, starving for as long as it took for another painting to sell.¹⁹

But his nationalistic art, and creating and starting all these new organisations and marketing himself, also put food on his table. Matt Cox, an art historian and curator, wrote of Sudjojono: “His career was forged by a stream of powerful paintings that invoked a growing national consciousness enraged by social injustice.”²⁰ Objectively, his ideology was materially beneficial to his career. Studies show that extreme poverty in early childhood can permanently leave the body’s stress response system on high alert;²¹ financial difficulties are hugely stressful, especially for someone with twelve children. Once he found something that fed him and his family, would it be far-fetched to suggest nuancing his artistic and political motivations and revolutionary fervour?

This possibility is not completely unfounded. His career took off and was at its peak during his nationalist and political years from about 1940-1960, where his painting style was strongly social realism . Before and after those “successful artist” decades, though, his art style was completely different. Historian Ong Hok Ham commented that Sudjojono’s paintings after he left the PKI and retreated from public view became harder and harder to distinguish from the dreamy style that he was so critical of in the first place.²²

Historicising the artist: beyond Sudjojono

This is not to deny Sudjojono’s agency and curiosity at all. Indeed he is a rare and admirable artist whose impact on modern art is equal to none. But he was also so much beyond that. He was a coolie’s son, a curious student, a husband and father, all of which shaped his worldview and journey and deserve consideration in his story.

The legend of Sudjojono, often presented as a linear story, is the product of careful selection and framing. To recognise this allows for a fuller and more honest understanding of how his work came to matter, and to whom. For Singapore, in a cultural landscape shaped by colonial legacies, rapid modernisation, and the constant negotiation of identities, the case of Sudjojono invites reflection. Cultural figures showcased in institutions are part of a broader active process of constructing collective memory. When history is presented in cohesive, institutionally-supported narratives: who deserves to be remembered, and under what conditions? What details and privileges are glossed over, and to whose benefit?

In this way, Sudjojono is both inspiring and cautionary – while his impact is not to be understated, it also invites a more critical questioning of how and why legends are constructed.