It was a crisp Sunday morning, the first week of August just before 8 AM. Families and children, groups of friends, and couples were all heading somewhere. The train was almost full, and we half-ran to catch it. I had forgotten my watch at home—empty hands. Luckily, we found seats facing each other, a rare occasion on a sunny Sunday. Giggles along the way as we gossiped about work from the other day. Without a watch, I tracked the 80 minutes by the rhythm of our conversation.
Our journey to Pura Mangkunegaran led us to Pracima Tuin, the palace’s historic garden, where the collaborative exhibition Surakusuma is currently on display. Organized by Tumurun Museum and Pura Mangkunegaran, the exhibition showcases sculptures by 11 artists from Indonesia, Germany, Switzerland, Poland, France, and Australia. Among them are internationally acclaimed artists such as Aditya Novali, Faisal Habibi, Wedhar Riyadi, Gabriel Aries, Yunizar, Ugo Rondinone, Alicja Kwade, Bernar Venet, and Alex Seton. Within the indoor section of Pracima Tuin, the works of Rita Widagdo and Gregorius Sidharta, are also presented.
A departure from typical nationalist sculptures that dominate public spaces in Indonesia, the art garden Surakusuma offers an alternative vision with abstract, contemporary forms within the historic site of Javanese royalty.
Pracima Tuin, located in the complex of Pura Mangkunegaran in Surakarta, was originally built by Mangkunegara VII and modeled after European royal parks, particularly those in the Netherlands. Initially designed as a private leisure space for the Mangkunegaran family, the garden fell into disrepair over time. Under Mangkunegara X, it underwent a revitalization to restore its original grandeur while incorporating contemporary elements to attract modern audiences. Today, Pracima Tuin is considered a cultural landmark—a Javanese heritage with European influences and reflecting Java’s adaptive heritage through the ages.
Our first impression of Surakusuma was one of scale and ambition. Each sculpture stood with a distinct presence within the palace’s garden, spaced to avoid overwhelming the viewer, allowing the works to “breathe”—an intimate connection between the pieces and their surroundings. Typically reserved for palace ceremonies, the garden itself added a ceremonial reverence to the viewing experience, where the formal traditions of heritage are harmonized with contemporary artwork that is more fluid in characteristic.
One standout work was The Monobloc Throne (2017–2024), a larger-than-life “plastic chair” installation by Australian artist Alex Seton, made from deep green Verde Guatemala marble. Marble, usually associated with durability and prestige, is reimagined here as a symbol of vulnerability and fragility, like “plastic.” Somehow, the piece evokes nostalgia for a not-so-distant past of the ubiquitous plastic chairs found in Indonesian warung internet (internet cafes).
In the context of Mangkunegaran, this everyday object takes on a regal quality, suggesting that art—and by extension, culture—bridges the high and low, the familiar and the strange. This clever proximity critiques the politics of public space and positions art as a social leveler, recontextualizing disposable objects into icons fit for a palace setting.
Seton’s title emphasizes the dual meanings of a “chair” as a symbol of authority and social hierarchy, where his narrative describes this empty throne as a “monument to a quotidian object and the folly of our best intentions.” Referencing the monumental style of Egyptian sculptures, he articulates the contrast with a humble plastic chair, a product born out of industrialization and environmental neglect. The result is a silent, empty monument—a powerful statement on the legacies of mass production and consumerism.
Engaging with materiality to challenge perceptions, Indonesian artist Aditya Novali reimagines ancient temple architecture in Tumpu (2024). The sculpture features geometric abstraction and uses reflective stainless steel to distort its surroundings. This suggests a fluid narrative that parallels the complexity of history, where rigid structures often yield to flexible interpretations depending on perspective. The reflective surfaces also invite contemplation on the nature of perception and the evolving understanding of knowledge over time. Through the work Tumpu (2024), Novali invites viewers to reflect on the changing nature of knowledge and the humility required to acknowledge nature’s ultimate power.
The exhibition design ensured each work had sufficient space, creating a sort of “rooms” within the garden, separated by paths and strategically placed greenery. This attention to spatial harmony made the open-air experience more cohesive and intimate, proving that site-specific art can alter a space without feeling imposed or out of place. The layout allowed us to explore freely without a prescribed narrative.
Located beside a shading tree within the garden, Ainsijam (2023) by Gabriel Aries uses stone, metal, acrylic, and resin to explore the interaction of materials. The work’s geometric design emphasizes its materials as both medium and content, foregoing symbolic or figurative references. The form emerges organically from the assembly of its elements, dictated by their inherent characteristics rather than a predetermined vision. Aries’s sensitivity to materiality is evident in his reframing of conventional craftsmanship into a contemporary context that values experimentation over convention. Positioned in the pond dedicated to Princess Gusti Nurul—the daughter of Mangkunegara VII, renowned for her beauty, grace, and mastery of Javanese dances—Ainsijam resonates with her cosmopolitan legacy and familiarity with avant-garde thinking, adding another depth to its placement.
In a broader sense, Surakusuma raises questions about the accessibility of art by situating contemporary sculptures within Pura Mangkunegaran’s garden. The exhibition makes art more approachable and bridging the divide between elite heritage and everyday experiences. For us, there’s an undeniable hope that this exhibition could inspire more institutions to embrace open-air, context-aware art displays in Indonesia, creating spaces where art can be both grand and grounded.
