how loneliness grows

one of my favorite photo series. i hope you see what i saw through the lens and find the photos just as moving. how loneliness grows:

everything glides past too fast

i can't see who i really am

nobody does it anymore

things that used to be intimate

the colors you can't see

open, close, leave

forgotten, not yet destroyed

amaranth

amaranth
photographer: labodalih sembiring
make up & wardrobe: dina oktaviani
models: astrid reza, indra rama chandra, dina oktaviani

flos

dimissi

surge

iram

occursus

Yuyun Goes to Rembang

Stayed in Rembang, one of Central Java’s northern districts, for six days. A great place for taking human-interest and architectural photos. Check out some of them below.

The square before Rembang's Makco Temple near the port serves as a public space.

Rembang Port

a typical Lasem house gate

Lasem Batik

a railway station in Lasem, no longer functioning

Cu An Kiong Temple

graveyard at Rumah Candu, or the Opium House

Olden

Yuyun Meets A Male Talent

I discovered Indra Rama Chandra—almost 1.9 m tall, lanky, with a face that reminds me of an Indian actor—on Twitter. After we had met several times, he asked me if I would take photos of him. I had never shot a male talent before, but here are two photos from our photo shoot in Girijati, Gunung Kidul, Yogyakarta.

Here I also introduce Yuyun Photography’s watermark. In case you’re wondering, Yuyun is the name of my Sony a330. Yes, I’m one of those guys.

 

 

 

 

Birthday Girl

My dear friend Dina Oktaviani had her birthday today. As a present, I set her up as my model of the day. Here are some of her best shots. | Model/Make Up/Wardrobe: Dina Oktaviani | Photographer/Photo Editor: Labodalih Sembiring| Assistant to Photographer: Jean-Pascal Elbaz | Camera: Sony a330

passage | dress: karen millen | shoes: syu shu | handbag: sandra collections | hat: gamboa | watch: dkny | earrings: chanel | location: pakem traditional market, yogyakarta

hues of red | dress: karen millen | handbag: sandra collections | hat: gamboa | watch: dkny | earrings: chanel | location: pakem traditional market, yogyakarta

 

time machine | dress: karen millen | shoes: syu shu | handbag: sandra collections | hat: gamboa | watch: dkny | earrings: chanel | location: pakem traditional market, yogyakarta

the twirl | dress: karen millen | shoes: syu shu | handbag: sandra collections | hat: gamboa | watch: dkny | location: pakem traditional market, yogyakarta

tirta | dina is wearing an indian duppata | watch: dkny | location: jean-pascal elbaz's house, pakem, yogyakarta

maesa | dina is wearing a bangladeshi sari | headpiece: the execcutive | location: pakem, yogyakarta

surya | dina is wearing a bangladeshi sari | headpiece: the executive | location: pakem, yogyakarta

30 Days of Writing: A Thousand Cityfolks

Day #2

“Those cigarettes are going to make you sick. I’ve seen people die of lung cancer,” Ingan says. “Just don’t die before you get married.”

He takes another puff. “And after I get married? Don’t die before I give you a grandchild?”

“Yes. You are your dad’s only son. Your child—your son—will continue the family name Sebayang. It is your duty to get yourself a wife, and then a son. But I’m not worried. Men marrying at a later age is common. Women like mature men. I married your Bolang when he was fifty-two; I was twenty one.”

“But I’m going to die of lung cancer before I reach a mature age.”

“Then stop smoking!”

He doesn’t think it was funny either. It was stupid to expect his grandmother to appreciate a simple joke. He cannot expect anyone in this small town to understand his idea of a joke. But that can’t be true, he says to himself—a faint whisper in his flow of thoughts. He has been thinking too much, especially about the wedding, that the thoughts turn into images and words or blurry shadows and thousands of letters brimming a glass jar that is his mind. That’s how he imagines it. Although he has been intrigued by the story Ingan just related. The scenes played in his mind like a movie with faceless actors in vivid backdrops. He has been to Kuala several times. Like here, there were unbroken rows of two-storey houses with pillars and wooden folding doors up front.

30 Days of Writing: A Thousand Cityfolks

Day #1

The cat looks to its left and right before it dashes across the street. A small evidence of evolution, he thinks. And he chuckles. That’s one of Binjai’s busiest intersections; many cats must have been roadkills there. Most probably by the motored tricycles. Some of those still living seem to have learnt to avoid such a fate.

He can’t tell that story in one frame. Not yet. He will think of something, although he knows he will forget this idea soon. Unless he writes it down. He does not feel like writing it down.

He tilts the camera up and sees nothing. Not nothing technically. It’s the same view he saw yesterday, and the day before that: a row of second-floor windows; wires stretching out from a street lamp. Closer objects: The bridge; the makeshift tent of the shoe repairer who’s gone home; the bed inside the open window across from the balcony where he’s standing.

Much closer: Her eyes.

“No, Nondong, just keep sewing. Don’t look here.”

She looks back down.

Every two or three years, Ingan makes a quilt. She is sitting in her rattan chair, the unfinished blanket sprawls from her left knee to the floor. A rattan basket full of rectangular pieces of fabric stands near. She stitches those patches to the square of squares of various colors and motifs by hand. Hundreds of tiny creases, tens of brown spots, make up the skin of her hands. He wonders why she does not use the sewing machine in her bedroom. He does not feel like asking it now.

She has completed one side. It’s going to get longer before she folds it into two, attaches the sides with white thread, and fills the large pouch with cotton through an opening. Before rainy season comes, she performs the final touch of cross-stitching over some of the joints between the squares to make sure that the fiber is evenly distributed. After that, she takes out her previous patch-quilt, goes to Binjai Market, and gives it to the first homeless person she sees there.

At seventy-one, sewing is one of the things Ingan does to keep herself occupied in the evening. It does not have to be a blanket. But that’s what she is making now while her visiting grandson takes photos and his sister, who has lived with her for six months, does whatever she is doing downstairs. Maybe she’s still selecting clothes for tomorrow.

He lets the camera hang from his neck and sits down.

An Indonesian pop song starts playing from the food stall at the further end of the bridge. He recognizes neither the lyrics nor the female singer’s voice. The rumbling of a passing motorbike overwhelms the music for a moment.

“When is your father coming?”

“I told you already, the day after tomorrow.”

“He should’ve been here days ago. Mbaba belo selambar is in four days. Desi can’t do everything on her own.”

But he knows her auntie is not doing everything on her own. Those in the larger anak beru group have been helping her prepare the marriage proposal ceremony. Even if she were, that was called for. She, her husband and their two children are Dad’s main anak beru, the wife-taker side of a Karonese family. One of their main duties in life is to ensure that all that is needed before, during and after his sister’s wedding is in place. Or his, when he finally decides to marry.

He takes in the realization of how much he loathes his grandmother’s insinuating tone.

“Nondong, how long have you been making quilts like this?”

“A few years after I got married to your Bolang, I sewed my first. He had a lot of fabrics—old fabrics, torn here and there. I have been sewing since I was a young girl.”

“Funny I never know how you and Grandpa met.”

“We met in Kuala.”

He turns his head. Her eyes are still fixed on the needle.

“Where in Kuala?”

“Kuala. Downtown. I was already engaged to someone else then.”

“How is that possible?”

“Your bolang was very well-connected, friends with many of the rich and powerful in Kuala, in Binjai, in Langkat, everywhere. He managed to break off my engagement through Tamangena. Tetap Ukur is my golden impal, you see. We were automatically enganged by birth. Everyone expected us to get married. But after Tamangena—he was a Sembiring, passed away—after he introduced your bolang to me, and after Tetap Ukur saw that your bolang repeatedly visit my house, he backed off.”

“How powerful was this Tamangena?”

“He was the wedana of Kuala.”

“What’s that?”

“Head of an area. It was smaller than a regency, larger than a district, if I’m not mistaken. Your bolang was the last vice wedana of Binjai.”

Her fingers freeze. She stares at his camera, long enough for him to understand the notion.

“I didn’t take any photos of you, Nondong. Not enough light. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m going to take the pre-wedding photos at the orchard from morning till afternoon.”

“Don’t forget to take photos of the cemetery. Are they going to pose by your bolang’s grave too?”

“I don’t think Mira and Raja want to have tombstones in their wedding invitations. But the three of you can pose at the cemetery, of course, for a keepsake photo or two.”

He lights a cigarette.

“Your bolang didn’t smoke. Your father doesn’t smoke. How you picked up this habit is beyond me.”

“None of them is a journalist either.”

He takes the cigarette from between his smiling lips. He just remembered something. He takes out his Blackberry and calls his sister. The grin widens.

“What, Nel?” she says on the other end.

“I changed my mind. I do want payment for tomorrow’s photo shoot.”

“How much?”

“Two packs of clove cigarette.”

“Done.”

 

Pieces of August & September

waiting for next flight at Jakarta's Soekarno-Hatta Airport

first thing to do upon arriving in Binjai is get to our duku orchard

headed to Kabanjahe and then to Pematang Raya, where my sister and her husband live, on a bus with a TV screen playing Karonese songs. had our first iftar dinner at their house. the next day I visited the Simalungun graveyard right across the abode.

pieces of Pematang Raya (that's Mom and lil' bro)

a fresh cemetery in the graveyard, and a pond near sis' house. that's lil' bro Aza and a dog that kept coming to the house. sis named it Didong Doah, Karonese for "rocking a child in one's arms." sister's expecting. in the afternoon, I headed back to Binjai on my own and spent the night at an old friend's cigarette stall in Pajak Kaget (to read my article on the "surprise market" read http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/food/finding-culinary-surprises-in-binjai/467603). the one in yellow is my new friend Dilo, a regular at the stall.

went to Kabanjahe, and then spent the day at a strawberry plantation with a strawberry pancake parlor nearby. went back to Binjai and had two friends come over to the orchard.

Idul Fitri

went back and forth between Binjai and Kabanjahe. lil fella here is a cousin's son. then there's bottles of limun, or lemonade, my favorite drink as a child.

went to Siberteng in Barusjahe, Karo Highlands, to cover a story on traditional medicine men. to read the story, visit: http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/health/north-sumatras-medicine-men/464730

back to Binjai and getting ready to head home. oh, we shipped my late grandpa's old bike to Jogja.

spent a few days in Jakarta (had lunch one day and the food tent got filled by flood), and then back to Jogja for my dearest friend Fani's wedding. that's Naia and me, ready to hit the reception.

all photos taken using my Samsung Galaxy Mini android phone

Yuyun Meets Paniyem & Edi Santoso

for the complete story, visit: http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/arts/javanese-dancing-in-the-streets/458441

Like most days for the past two years, Paniyem wakes up at 2:30 in the morning. But this is the second day of Ramadan, so she prepares a simple meal for her two children. She then gets the costumes ready for her and her husband, Edi Santoso, who wakes an hour later.

“I should have brought my whip. It’s dangerous, but it always makes for a more impressive spectacle,” Paniyem said.

“I disguise myself as a man so that my relatives won’t recognize me should they turn up. Our neighbors are OK with us busking, but my relatives…”

There are plenty of jathilan buskers in Yogyakarta, but Paniyem and Edi are probably the oldest. By 9 a.m., 47-year-old Edi is sitting in front of a set of bende gongs, which produce the typical tong-cling-tong-cling accompaniment to the dance. And Paniyem, 38, dressed as a white-faced, pink-cheeked male clown, is in the middle of the street, in front of a line of stopped cars and motorcycles, dancing, a plastic up near her feet.

Edi said they had to leave for work so early in the morning because of how hard it was to make money on the streets. Jathilan groups always look for the busiest locations. Sometimes Edi spends the night on the street, near a prime location, so they can claim it the next morning.

“The police, the public order officers and the government’s social agency officers are after jathilan performers’ money."

Last June, Paniyem and Edi had a brush with global fame, when they were asked by “The Amazing Race,” the hit American reality TV show, to teach contestants how to earn money by performing jathilan on Jalan Malioboro.

Latitudes.nu 2011 Photo Contest: ‘Transport, Transport’!

"Three in A Row" by Emma Kwee

‘Transport transport’? This will sound familiar to anybody who has ever set foot on Bali. Drivers renting their minivans or jeeps and themselves out to bring you wherever you want to go…Smiling from ear to ear, mimicking a steering wheel with both of their hands…’Transport Transport Mister?’

Transportation is the theme of this photo contest. You can interpret it as widely or narrowly as you want to. It could be vehicles in various states of disrepair, people propped up in a van, animals used as means of transportation or being transported. Funny or sad..standing still in traffic or racing along…it’s up to you!

The Latitudes.nu Photo Contest Low Down

Some rules: Photos must be your own work and copyright free. Images need to have something to do with Southeast Asia. You can submit an unlimited amount of pictures. Latitudes.nu holds the right to use photos in future publications.

The Prizes

Aahhh the prizes…not only eternal fame is within reach, we have some fabulous prizes as well:

1.       LATITUDES.NU CHOICE wins a weekend in the sumptuous Alila Manggis Bali for two! Expect nothing but luxury in this resort in east Bali. Set amidst a coconut grove, the resort is nestled between the sea and the majestic Mount Agung, Bali’s most sacred mountain.

2.       The GOT ANY COMMENT AWARD goes to the pic with the most comments by other visitors and wins a super deluxe Latitudes Universal Camera Bag, with enough room for all your lenses, filters and cables!

3.       The THEY LIKE ME MOST AWARD goes to the pic with the most likes by other visitors and wins a black cotton embroidered Latitudes polo shirt like the charming guy in the pictures below is wearing:

Not bad ehh? Now, what do you have to do?

1.       Register at Latitudes.nu (no worries only takes a few seconds) and create your profile. Add a short bio and pic.

2.       Upload the pics you want to enter in the contest and mention Entry Transport Transport in the Caption + a title and description (where was the pic taken, what is it).

3.       Since Place 2 and 3 are based on Facebook comments and likes, like the Latitudes Media Facebook page:

4.       Important: to let us know you enter a pic in the contest, paste the url of the pic to our FB wall. You can also ask members to vote for your picture there (or anywhere else), but make sure they like or comment to your pic on the Latitudes site, not on our wall, because that doesn’t count (we can’t keep track of where you post links you see?)

5.       Contest ends October 15 midnight, winners will be announced before 20 October. Only photos that follow the guidelines mentioned above are elligible!

In concordance with this contest, we will delve into the history of photography in Southeast Asia, starting with Indonesia – History in the making.