Fresh Face: Haiza Putti

Painting as a dialogue between remembrance and materiality

A&M's Fresh Face is where we profile an emerging artist from the region every month and speak to them about how they kick-started their career, how they continue to sustain their practice and what drives them as artists.

Haiza Putti in her studio in Jakarta. Image courtesy of Ezra Reyhan.

Haiza Putti in her studio in Jakarta. Image courtesy of Ezra Reyhan.

Since her first days dabbling in painting at the Institut Teknologi Bandung, young Jakarta-based artist Haiza Putti has been enraptured by the canvas. To her, this common material is not a stretched-out and stiff base upon which paint can be splattered and layered. In fact, it reminds her of fabric, especially the Minangnese textile rolls collected by her grandmother, through their dynamic texture and pliant folds. This sense of tactile fascination propels her to conceptualise and incorporate the canvas into her practice as a material in its own right, continuously experimenting with its limitless potential to create versatile painting-based installations.

Haiza Putti, The eyes were closed, so they passed on, 2024, oil and acrylic paint on canvas and wooden chair, 550 x 48cm (canvas); 45 x 30cm (canvas hanger); 50 x 70 x 90cm (chair); 123 x 18cm (chair leg). Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

Haiza Putti, The eyes were closed, so they passed on, 2024, oil and acrylic paint on canvas and wooden chair, 550 x 48cm (canvas); 45 x 30cm (canvas hanger); 50 x 70 x 90cm (chair); 123 x 18cm (chair leg). Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

This experimental trajectory has become accentuated in her first solo show, titled Menjabat tangan ingatan (2024) hosted at RUBANAH Underground Hub, particularly through a painting-beside-itself style artwork, titled The eyes were closed, so they passed on (2024). A cream-coloured canvas roll unfurls from the ceiling, with its top edge daintily wrapped around a wooden peg. A milky way upon which variegated supernovas blossoms, this multichromatic stream perches itself atop a collapsed wood-carved rocking chair, similar to the one that belonged to Putti’s late grandfather. Whether viewers choose to read the canvas as Putti’s attempt to hold onto to her grandfather’s memories, or as a subtle transfer of knowledge and traditions from him to her, the simplicity of this painting-installation still stirs up dormant emotions embedded in all of us. 

The unbearably imperceptible tug of memories thus permeates the other works in Putti’s show. Menjabat tangan ingatan (2024), the homonymous painting that anchors the show, appears as an ephemeral mirage seen through a murky lens. Alluvial gradients of fuschia pink and cordyline violet seem to evaporate then condense around the rim of this invisible lens, highlighting the milky white centre stage, where amorphous figures stand, kneel, and pray. It is later revealed that this surreal scene is an actual manifestation of Putti’s earliest memory of her mother’s death, where family members were bathing her lifeless body according to Islamic funeral rites. The visual lightness of the painting stands in contrast to the heavy undertone of death and separation, emphasising the elusivity of memories and the post-traumatic weight of loss that one might carry unconsciously. By zeroing in on her personal recollection—a visual attempt to express and digest her feelings, Putti taps into a semi-universal experience, a collective memory that besieges all of us who have had to bid farewell to our loved ones. 

 
Haiza Putti, Menjabat tangan ingatan, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 90 x 140cm. Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

Haiza Putti, Menjabat tangan ingatan, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 90 x 140cm. Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

 

Whether exploring the multifaceted expression of painting as a canvas-based medium, or deep-diving into her personal vault of memories in search of inspirations or references, Putti maintains a refreshingly emotive approach to her art. Confessional in concepts and messages, while fluctuating between expressionism and impressionism in painterly style, Putti continuously transforms her canvas into a diary page where she can explore and process her memories, particularly those deeply lodged into her subconscious and capable of invoking visceral emotions from audiences.


Interview

Haiza Putti, Salutan Oranye #1, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 80 x 100cm (left), and Salutan Oranye #1, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 100 x 150cm (right). Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

Haiza Putti, Salutan Oranye #1, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 80 x 100cm (left), and Salutan Oranye #1, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 100 x 150cm (right). Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

You recently graduated from the Faculty of Arts and Design of the Institut Teknologi Bandung (ITB). How has your experience in school shaped your artistic practice and conceptual development?

When I first entered ITB, I was still uncertain whether I wanted to be an artist, a curator, or an art manager. Luckily, while taking foundational classes in the visual art department, my lecturers encouraged me to explore different materials and discover my own edge. Eventually, I became interested in painting and started stretching this medium’s boundaries. For example, in my final project, titled Pushing–Inward, Pulling–Outward, (2020), I tried to make the paintings respond to the exhibition space by hanging them from the ceiling or even laying them on the ground. I also folded the canvas to make them look like soft fabric, yet still stiff enough to hold up shapes. As I expand my perception of visual imagery, I want my materials and medium to become part of my stories, not just a vessel or vehicle.

What was one important piece of advice you were given in school?

My advisor, Rizki A. Zaelani, who is also a curator at the Indonesian National Gallery, helped me think more conceptually about the themes that I am interested in, such as families, traditions, ceremonial objects, and my Minangnese roots. His way of teaching is close to how a curator works with an artist. Once, he told me, during one of our discussions for my final project, that I was capable of turning my paintings into something 3D, even an installation. I think I took that as a new challenge, to elevate and transform my works into something more than what they already are.  

Haiza Putti, Kota Ibu, Tempat Para Ibu Mengadu Nasib, 2022, installation view. Image courtesy of the artist.

Haiza Putti, Kota Ibu, Tempat Para Ibu Mengadu Nasib, 2022, installation view. Image courtesy of the artist.

Your first solo show at RUBANAH is titled Menjabat tangan ingatan or “Shaking hands with memories”. Memories, especially personal ones with family, seem to be your main source of inspiration and creative material. As an emerging artist, what benefits do you think working with memories has granted you? Similarly, what challenges might stem from a confessional approach to artmaking? 

Ancestry holds the big answers to our identity. For me, exploring and discovering my family’s history did not just serve a personal satisfaction. The more I learn about my own culture and traditions, the more I believe that there exists something universal and fundamental, like a collective experience that connects all humans. While I have touched on this theme of interconnectivity through collective memories in previous projects, such as the series Kota Ibu, Tempat Para Ibu Mengadu Nasib (2022) at Indonesian Contemporary Art and Design 12 (ICAD 12) in which I engaged with narratives and memories of female domestic workers, it was not until my first solo show at RUBANAH that I touched upon my personal memories of my late mother and my family. 

As I prepared the works for my solo show, I realised that what pushed me to talk more about womanhood, family, and tradition is actually the memories of my late mother and her experience. The feeling of losing my mother has somehow brought me closer to the remaining members in my family, as well as our traditions. However, to reach the point of being comfortable talking about her memories, much less incorporating them into my artworks, is a challenging journey. I am thankful to my curator, Ibam (Ibrahim) Soetomo, for being my talking partner throughout that journey. As we bonded over our shared experience of losing our mothers, albeit at different ages, I was finally able to carve out a visual language to convey my memories of my mother and express my thoughts about being a woman and engaging with my Minangnese traditions.  

“Ancestry holds the big answers to our identity. The more I learn about my own culture and traditions, the more I believe that there exists something universal and fundamental, like a collective experience that connects all humans.”

Curator Ibrahim Soetomo (left) and artist Haiza Putti (right) during the show’s opening at RUBANAH. Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

Curator Ibrahim Soetomo (left) and artist Haiza Putti (right) during the show’s opening at RUBANAH. Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

In addition to your art practice, you also write. Are there any points of meeting or inter-influence between these two practices?

I think that my art making and writing share the same process. I always start from something that is relatable and personal to me, reaching back into my mind to retrieve feelings, memories, or ideas that are already existing. I also journal a lot. When a random sentence, question, or emotion pops into my mind, I will write it down—akin to an archive of experience. So when I want to start a painting, sometimes I will go through my journals to search for inspirations. And I believe that I inherited this habit from my mother, as she was also a big writer when she was alive. We still have many of her journals, in which she jotted down anything and everything. It is another subtle thing that connects me to her, and makes me feel a sense of rootedness with my family.  

Painting and writing also help me to communicate my feelings better, without speaking. In my household, it used to be difficult, sometimes even taboo, for us to speak openly about our feelings. But things have gradually changed now. I think making art allows me the time to process those feelings, digest them slowly, and produce a visual form that embodies these seemingly scattered yet interlinking thoughts and stories. 

Haiza Putti, Salutan Oranye #1, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 80 x 100cm (left), and Salutan Oranye #1, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 100 x 150cm (right). Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

Haiza Putti, Salutan Oranye #1, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 80 x 100cm (left), and Salutan Oranye #1, 2024, oil and acrylic paint, crayon on canvas, 100 x 150cm (right). Image courtesy of M. Revaldi.

Could you share your favourite art space or gallery in Indonesia? Are there any upcoming exhibitions/projects that you would like to share? 

For Bandung, I would say Selasar Sunaryo Art Space and Wot Batu. I used to work part-time in Selasar Sunaryo and Wot Batu when I was in school, and I learned a lot about the artworld through their programmes. They also have a great line-up of artists and exhibitions. I also quite enjoyed my visits to Cemeti – Institute for Art and Society in Yogyakarta and CushCush Gallery in Bali, both of which host programs that are impressive and thoughtfully-curated. As for future projects, there will be shows in both Jakarta and Bandung for the upcoming months. Details are still being worked out, so I cannot announce anything yet! But, yes, exciting projects to wrap up 2024. 

Haiza Putti’s solo show ‘Menjabat tangan ingatan’ at RUBANAH Underground Hub is on view from 25 August to 22 September 2024.

Dương Mạnh Hùng

Dương Mạnh Hùng is an independent translator/writer/curator. Their practice weaves textual intricacy with visual subtlety to deliver responses and raise questions about art & society. Hung's deep-seated fascination with the dynamics of translation in art is informed by their close observations of global and Southeast Asian socio-political and ecological histories. They are perpetually intrigued by moments of sublimation and serendipitous interstices within/between different arforms.

Previous
Previous

Fresh Face: Adam Phong

Next
Next

Fresh Face: Goh Chun Aik