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the social and the semiotic. In other words, textiles are presented here as a cultural "language," to the understanding and interpretation of which we have addressed our special attention.

      Many of the textiles are works of art in their own right. However, we have refrained from a contemplation of their aesthetics since this would inevitably involve alien, non-Balinese criteria. It is therefore left- to the reader—if he will—to proceed to an aesthetic assessment of the textiles; no hierarchy of values is proposed.

      Precisely because of the importance of textiles in Bali, especially in rituals of all kinds, the book was written not only for textile devotees and readers interested in Bali but also for the people of Bali itself. There is no other reference work covering the wealth of their textiles. Moreover, the indigenous textile handicrafts of this island find themselves coming under severe pressure from new and differently—mainly commercially—oriented values, as it has become a holiday paradise for visitors from faraway. The upshot is that the diversity of traditional textiles has begun to diminish and a great deal has already fallen into oblivion. At the same time, however, the textile crafts have received a new impetus and—with the creativity characteristic of Bali—have struck out along novel lines, with astonishing and compelling results.

      The documentary work underlying the book has been rendered possible by two factors: support by institutions in Switzerland (Swiss National Fund, Department of Education and Culture of the Canton of Basel City, Voluntary Academic Association) and in Indonesia which made possible our journey and stay, and the people of Bali who met us with never-failing cordiality, allowed us to share their life, and answered all our questions with great patience.

      Our gratitude to our friends in Belayu, Beratan, Intaran and Sanur, Kerambitan, Kusamba, Legian, Sidemen, Tenganan and in Nusa Penida is more than we can express with this book.

      —B, Hauser-Schdublin

      —M. L. Nahholz-Kartaschoff

      Sanur, November 1990

      Figure 1.1: For an annual temple festival the central shrine, representing a holy mountain, is decorated all over a univers arrayed Sanur.

      CHAPTER ONE

      The Universe Arrayed

      Textiles in Bali

      FOR anyone coming from a distant country, landing at Bali's Ngurah Rai International Airport is a memorable experience. He is lapped in warm tropical air, to his ears come the first snatches of the Balinese language, and when he expectantly steps outside the airport building, a colorful picture meets his eyes: taxi drivers and travel agents are dressed in dark trousers and light-colored shirts, while younger people mill about in blue jeans and brightly emblazoned T-shirts. Smartly dressed hostesses from major hotels and tour companies have come to welcome the new arrivals and conduct them safely to their temporary residences.

      The journey from the airport to any other destination leads past a statue of I Gusti Ngurah Rai, a Balinese hero in the national struggle for freedom and independence. The crowded highway leads past shrimp nurseries bordering the coast, while cattle graze in fields by the roadside. Men, women and children travel on foot, astride bicycles or motorbikes, and in cars and minivans. Some of the children sport blue-and-white or red-and-white national school uniforms, while adults are dressed in the international style now common the world over. Overall, the impression is one of a prosperous, thriving island.

      Just as one is beginning to think, however, that Bali has succumbed to the dictates of international fashion, an unexpected sight meets the eye. In the midst of the streaming traffic is a family riding on a motorbike: the father, who is driving, is not wearing long trousers but a batik hip cloth covered by a somewhat shorter yellow cloth with a gold-and-white border. His white shirt flutters in the wind, while around his head is tied a cloth—a standard element of men's festive apparel. Perched on the gas tank, between his father's legs, is a four-year-old lad, also in traditional dress: a songkèt hip cloth matching his size, a white T-shirt and, like his father, a headcloth. The mother sits side-saddle behind her husband. Her long wraparound is of endek material in various shades of blue, with a kebaya blouse in a matching solid color. A broad sash of the same endek material is wound around her waist over the blouse and hip cloth, setting off her slender figure. Her face is made up with care, and her long black hair is tied in a bun that drapes down gracefully at the back of her head. In her hair are golden flowers that nod and wave with every movement.

      Figure 1.2: First attempts at weaving on the cagcag loom. Karangasem, Sidemen.

      On her lap the woman holds a silvery metal offering dish with a splendid tower of artistically-arranged fruits and brightly-colored Balinese cakes. Obviously the family is on its way to a temple festival to present their offerings to the gods, to pray and to receive their blessings in return. Cycling circumspectly along the roadside is a man dressed in white from his headcloth to his skirt: he is a pemangku, a temple priest, on his way to perform his daily ministrations in his sanctuary.

      On arrival at one of the major hotels, the visitor is greeted by Balinese employees wearing outfits modeled after traditional clothing. The apparel is tasteful in color, flattering the figures of men and women alike, imparting sensuous grace. This contrasts sharply with the holiday garb of Western visitors who, regardless of their physical stature, seem to insist on wearing the scantiest possible clothing wherever they go. While this may be tolerable at the beach, at a temple festival such disregard for propriety is a serious insult to the Balinese and to their gods!

      Visitors to the major towns who browse in shops and admire the range of goods on display—from antique carvings to ultramodern computers—are bound to come across many fashionable textile products. Boutiques have on display clothes made from materials with patterns and designs that are replaced every few months by new ones. Designers, dyers and seamstresses in many small to medium-sized clothing firms churn out a bewildering array of inexpensive garments for the fast-moving international trade, partly to fill orders received from the industrialized countries. Though such fashion products lack nothing in inventiveness or creativity, they are by no means "traditional" or "Balinese," and there is only a tenuous link between these fabrics and the traditional crafts of cloth making. Just as culture and people are changing in response to the opening up of the island by tourists, so the products intended for these visitors are constantly being adjusted to meet the new needs and demands they create.

      Figure 1.3: Hip cloth. Cotton and bagu yarn. Supplementary weft and endek. Batur region. 214 x 108 cm. MEB He 15969.

      Figure 1.4: A procession on the occasion of a great purification ceremony for the souls of the dead, Sanur.

      Figure 1.5: Temple festival after renovation of the sanctuary, Rich variety of textile adornments and offerings, Sanur,

      Figure 1.6: A textile stall's colorful display at a market in Denpasar,

      ORIGINS

      Bali has a long history, the greater part of which Is obscured by the mists of time, and archaeologists have only just begun to bring to light small fragments of this past. Written records begin in the 8th century A.D., and the story told in these early Inscriptions and chronicles mirrors the influence of the great Javanese empires. Their courts were attended by Buddhist and Hindu scholars—literati

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