Ronan O’Connell Monday, 24 April 2017 2:28PM
In Balinese woodcarving, it is normal to hold the wood with your feet while using your tools.Picture: Ronan O’Connell.
Holding the block of wood between my bare feet, I lean forward and gently hit the end of a chisel with my hammer. Once more I miss my mark, leaving a crooked indentation which doesn’t go close to resembling craftsmanship. Soon, however, my work becomes more and more precise, under the expert guidance of a master Balinese woodworker in a small village near Ubud.
Few places in the world display intricate woodwork on the same level as Bali, where this ornate craft is featured throughout local homes, temples and public buildings. So I took up the challenge of learning some of Bali’s woodworking secrets in a small village called Pejeng, just outside of Ubud. Pejeng is the traditional side of Bali that so many tourists seek after becoming jaded with the gaudy mass tourism of Kuta and Seminyak.
Having not visited either of those two tourist magnets since I was a small child, I decided to make a brief one-night stop in Kuta before heading to Ubud. Within 30 minutes of arriving at my hotel I was regretting my decision, after being hounded by sharky touts the moment the door of my taxi opened.
In my teens or early 20s, Kuta might have been my kind of place. As a married 34-year-old, Ubud’s lure is stronger, as it is for so many travellers who are seeking a Balinese experience with at least some level of authenticity. In Kuta and Seminyak, Balinese culture largely has been supplanted by consumer culture.
While central Ubud also is very touristy, it at least feels and looks quite Balinese, and life here moves at a gentler rhythm. This pace of existence becomes intoxicatingly slow once you venture beyond the city centre. It is on the fringes of Ubud and in the many little towns and villages which surround it that many locals have opened cultural tourism businesses.
They have sprung up in recognition of the fact that the type of traveller most commonly drawn to Ubud wants something beyond shopping, nightlife and temple hopping.
Out in the countryside, apart from the ubiquitous yoga studios, there is a growing number of businesses that offer immersive tourism experiences.
Tourists can learn the hypnotic manoeuvres of traditional Balinese dancing under the tutelage of a local dancer. They can master the rich flavours of Balinese cuisine during an intimate cooking lesson. There’s also a significant number of artisans keen to teach their techniques to travellers, from silversmiths to batik artists, pottery enthusiasts, painters, ceramics experts and wood carvers.
Holding the block of wood between my bare feet, I lean forward and gently hit the end of a chisel with my hammer. Once more I miss my mark, leaving a crooked indentation which doesn’t go close to resembling craftsmanship. Soon, however, my work becomes more and more precise, under the expert guidance of a master Balinese woodworker in a small village near Ubud.
Few places in the world display intricate woodwork on the same level as Bali, where this ornate craft is featured throughout local homes, temples and public buildings. So I took up the challenge of learning some of Bali’s woodworking secrets in a small village called Pejeng, just outside of Ubud. Pejeng is the traditional side of Bali that so many tourists seek after becoming jaded with the gaudy mass tourism of Kuta and Seminyak.
Having not visited either of those two tourist magnets since I was a small child, I decided to make a brief one-night stop in Kuta before heading to Ubud. Within 30 minutes of arriving at my hotel I was regretting my decision, after being hounded by sharky touts the moment the door of my taxi opened.
In my teens or early 20s, Kuta might have been my kind of place. As a married 34-year-old, Ubud’s lure is stronger, as it is for so many travellers who are seeking a Balinese experience with at least some level of authenticity. In Kuta and Seminyak, Balinese culture largely has been supplanted by consumer culture.
While central Ubud also is very touristy, it at least feels and looks quite Balinese, and life here moves at a gentler rhythm. This pace of existence becomes intoxicatingly slow once you venture beyond the city centre. It is on the fringes of Ubud and in the many little towns and villages which surround it that many locals have opened cultural tourism businesses.
They have sprung up in recognition of the fact that the type of traveller most commonly drawn to Ubud wants something beyond shopping, nightlife and temple hopping.
Out in the countryside, apart from the ubiquitous yoga studios, there is a growing number of businesses that offer immersive tourism experiences.
Tourists can learn the hypnotic manoeuvres of traditional Balinese dancing under the tutelage of a local dancer. They can master the rich flavours of Balinese cuisine during an intimate cooking lesson. There’s also a significant number of artisans keen to teach their techniques to travellers, from silversmiths to batik artists, pottery enthusiasts, painters, ceramics experts and wood carvers.
Tourists can join workshops to learn the secrets of Balinese woodwork.Picture: Ronan O’Connell
Rather than leaving Bali with a suitcase stuffed with cheap souvenirs, I wanted to depart with a new skill. That was an ambitious aim but, as it turned out, it was the process rather than the outcome that was most fulfilling. I chose a small tourism business called Bali Simple, which offers wood carving and batik classes.
Bali Simple is owned by Yun Qiu, a gregarious young Chinese woman who employs Balinese artists to provide tutelage to tourists. Yun was a travel agent in the gigantic city of Guangzhou, home to more than 20 million people, before she visited Bali and fell in love both with the island and a local man. She said she had become jaded by the soulless nature of Chinese tours, where huge groups travel together, and so had decided to open a boutique tourism business that would not allow bookings by big groups or tour agencies.
Yun prefers Bali Simple’s workshops to be one-on-one or small groups, which she said allowed the students to build a relationship with their teacher. My wife and I were lucky enough to do just that with our charming instructor Gusti Ngurah Dharma, a fantastically talented artisan with 27 years of experience in wood carving.
This trade has been practised by members of Gusti’s family for many generations — a common story in this part of Bali, which is one of Asia’s most famous hubs of wood carving. The products of the gifted local tradesmen can be found in galleries, museums, shops and markets all over Indonesia. While there is a big market for cheap, poorly made wooden ornaments and souvenirs, destined for the bags of tourists, there are still many Balinese woodworkers who put great thought and effort into their pieces.
It was wonderful to watch Gusti slowly carve a hunk of jempinis wood into a striking artwork. The care, precision and pride he displays was quite infectious. The more I analysed his approach, the more I wanted to replicate it. Sitting on the floor of his basic studio, with shelves of his finished pieces behind him, Gusti looked joyful as he worked. So I joined him.
Intricate woodwork is a common feature in Balinese carving.Picture: Ronan O’Connell
I sat down and, under his instruction, placed my feet on either side of my own flat wedge of jempinis. This wood is perfect for these classes — soft enough to carve without heavy force, yet strong enough to avoid breaking apart because of the sloppy actions of a beginner.
A graceful flower had been drawn with pencil on to my jempinis. All I had to do was trace these flowing lines. At first, this appeared to be an elementary task. Within minutes I had earned an even deeper appreciation for the skill of artisans such as Gusti.
My small, sharp chisel was not as compliant as I had hoped and my carved lines not as precise as I had imagined. I had been provided the gentlest possible introduction to wood carving but was still experiencing difficulty. Noting my frustration, Gusti encouraged me to plough on, assuring me I’d gradually learn from my mistakes. If I kept my chisel at a slight angle, and struck it softly but purposefully, the rest would take care of itself.
Above all else, it was important to keep in mind exactly what I wished to create — to visualise it and work towards it. That part was easy, given the pattern had already been drawn for me. Over the next hour I became slower and more measured in my work. When I made a mistake, I stopped and considered what had gone wrong rather than immediately trying to rectify the error.
Soon I found myself lulled into a state of not-quite relaxation, as I was too focused, but of calm and composure. My skills ever-so-slowly improved, but it was tapping into the peaceful state of mind I had observed earlier in Gusti that was the real reward. In this small workshop, amid the jungles of Bali, I discovered a new joy.
Woodcarver Gusti Ngurah Dharma shows off one of his pieces.Picture: Ronan O’Connell
FACT FILE
Bali Simple is in the village of Pejeng, about 10 minutes drive from central Ubud. Its woodwork classes cost $50, which includes return hotel transfers and up to six hours of tutelage in its workshop.
Other immersive tourist experiences in Ubud include the silver jewellery-making courses at Chez Monique, and the herbal beauty products class run by Ubud Botany Interactive.
The area of Gianyar, south-east of Ubud, is famous for its wood carvers and is home to many fine woodwork shops.
Ronan O’Connell was a guest of Bali Simple.
Rather than leaving Bali with a suitcase stuffed with cheap souvenirs, I wanted to depart with a new skill. That was an ambitious aim but, as it turned out, it was the process rather than the outcome that was most fulfilling. I chose a small tourism business called Bali Simple, which offers wood carving and batik classes.
Bali Simple is owned by Yun Qiu, a gregarious young Chinese woman who employs Balinese artists to provide tutelage to tourists. Yun was a travel agent in the gigantic city of Guangzhou, home to more than 20 million people, before she visited Bali and fell in love both with the island and a local man. She said she had become jaded by the soulless nature of Chinese tours, where huge groups travel together, and so had decided to open a boutique tourism business that would not allow bookings by big groups or tour agencies.
Yun prefers Bali Simple’s workshops to be one-on-one or small groups, which she said allowed the students to build a relationship with their teacher. My wife and I were lucky enough to do just that with our charming instructor Gusti Ngurah Dharma, a fantastically talented artisan with 27 years of experience in wood carving.
This trade has been practised by members of Gusti’s family for many generations — a common story in this part of Bali, which is one of Asia’s most famous hubs of wood carving. The products of the gifted local tradesmen can be found in galleries, museums, shops and markets all over Indonesia. While there is a big market for cheap, poorly made wooden ornaments and souvenirs, destined for the bags of tourists, there are still many Balinese woodworkers who put great thought and effort into their pieces.
It was wonderful to watch Gusti slowly carve a hunk of jempinis wood into a striking artwork. The care, precision and pride he displays was quite infectious. The more I analysed his approach, the more I wanted to replicate it. Sitting on the floor of his basic studio, with shelves of his finished pieces behind him, Gusti looked joyful as he worked. So I joined him.
Intricate woodwork is a common feature in Balinese carving.Picture: Ronan O’ConnellI sat down and, under his instruction, placed my feet on either side of my own flat wedge of jempinis. This wood is perfect for these classes — soft enough to carve without heavy force, yet strong enough to avoid breaking apart because of the sloppy actions of a beginner.
A graceful flower had been drawn with pencil on to my jempinis. All I had to do was trace these flowing lines. At first, this appeared to be an elementary task. Within minutes I had earned an even deeper appreciation for the skill of artisans such as Gusti.
My small, sharp chisel was not as compliant as I had hoped and my carved lines not as precise as I had imagined. I had been provided the gentlest possible introduction to wood carving but was still experiencing difficulty. Noting my frustration, Gusti encouraged me to plough on, assuring me I’d gradually learn from my mistakes. If I kept my chisel at a slight angle, and struck it softly but purposefully, the rest would take care of itself.
Above all else, it was important to keep in mind exactly what I wished to create — to visualise it and work towards it. That part was easy, given the pattern had already been drawn for me. Over the next hour I became slower and more measured in my work. When I made a mistake, I stopped and considered what had gone wrong rather than immediately trying to rectify the error.
Soon I found myself lulled into a state of not-quite relaxation, as I was too focused, but of calm and composure. My skills ever-so-slowly improved, but it was tapping into the peaceful state of mind I had observed earlier in Gusti that was the real reward. In this small workshop, amid the jungles of Bali, I discovered a new joy.
Woodcarver Gusti Ngurah Dharma shows off one of his pieces.Picture: Ronan O’ConnellFACT FILE
Bali Simple is in the village of Pejeng, about 10 minutes drive from central Ubud. Its woodwork classes cost $50, which includes return hotel transfers and up to six hours of tutelage in its workshop.
Other immersive tourist experiences in Ubud include the silver jewellery-making courses at Chez Monique, and the herbal beauty products class run by Ubud Botany Interactive.
The area of Gianyar, south-east of Ubud, is famous for its wood carvers and is home to many fine woodwork shops.
Ronan O’Connell was a guest of Bali Simple.
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