Garuda

With Master Carver Sudana in Ubud

Jennifer has written about our souvenirs from our travels, and Nicki of her collectibles, and I thought some of you might be interested in a piece we picked up in Bali, Indonesia in 2004.

As you may know, of all 17,000+ islands that make up Indonesia, only Bali is Hindu with a uniquely Balinese dose of animism thrown in. The rest of the Indonesian islands are all Muslim. On Bali there is an artists' community called Ubud. While exploring various craftsmen's shops there, we came upon a shop featuring local wood carvings. The Balinese are world famous for their stone sculpture and wood carving.

As we wandered around in the modest showroom, every piece that I picked out as being of particular interest or artistic quality, turned out to be the work of one man, Sudana, who was the father of the salesman. We learned that Sudana is considered to be one of the master carvers in Bali. I must admit that I have a "trained eye", but it seemed to me that certain pieces just jumped out at me, as if the artists and I were on the same wavelength.

We decided to purchase one large piece, carved (we were told) from a single block of hibiscus wood (hibiscus apparently grows to tree size in Bali) with no fitted, glued or otherwise attached parts. The image is of Garuda, the Hindu protector god of the Balinese people who appears in the form of a bird, much like the Phoenix in ancient mythology and is the national symbol for both Thailand and Indonesia.

Our Garuda

I've attached a photo of an even larger painted Garuda so you can more easily see the wings, tail, arms and legs, etc. Our Garuda, as you can see, is unpainted, is about three feet tall and is a rich, cherrywood color. If you look carefully at our piece, you can see the tiny figure riding on Garuda's back, which represents the Balinese people being protected from the evil, multi-headed dragon below.

Master Carver Sudana was pleased to have someone who appreciated the work purchase it, and he came down to the shop to meet us. Artists know when they are dealing with people who understand and appreciate their work. He spoke no English and we spoke no Balinese or Indonesian, but the experience became truly one of my prized memories, as you can gather by the expressions on his face and mine.

The painted Garuda

Posted by Jennifer Johnston Smith at 11:13 PM

1 comments:
Nicki Wilcoxson said...
I found your post to be very informative and interesting. I really enjoy "seeing" your travels through your "artist eyes." I love your beautiful Garuda, and I would think that having met the artist, Sudana, face to face makes it all the more valuable to you. I imagine that Garuda and "Humphrey" share places of honor in your home. As a side, I have to laugh when I think of how wonderfully different your collection is from the ones that I have! Let me think--enamelware pots, Garuda and Humphrey--.......Thank you for sharing with us!
April 21, 2008 7:53 AM

The Thrill of the Hunt: Confessions of a Collector

Hi, my name is Nicki and I am a collector. I first became addicted to collecting several years ago when it became necessary to clean out the homes of various relatives in Childress and Shallowater. These homes were filled with items that had been stored away for many long years There were no expectations that sacks of money or even long hidden treasure and valuables, would be uncovered. Even though it was a sad task for us, it wasn’t long before I began to experience feelings of pleasure that accompanied the discovery of the more mundane kind of items such as opening a box to find very old delicate tiny buttons, or looking in the kitchen cabinets to find old kitchen utensils that I hadn’t seen since childhood in my mother’s house, or old tins and boxes of spices held for years after expiration dates, but still displayed in the old fashioned tins of yesteryear, or old tin type photos of people long forgotten, or old cameras, tools, or even clothing. At this time I was introduced to the intoxication that comes from “the find” and I wanted MORE. Soon I was experiencing uncontrolled urges to look in every nook and cranny and every drawer to see what could be found to satisfy my desire for another rush. I was swept up watching shows on television about antique appraisal, visiting every antique shop to compare what we had found with those in the shops, visiting bookstores to find resources to help in identifying the items that had by now become “stuff” to treasure, not for monetary value but for the joy of having them, displaying them, and showing them off. My attic and house were soon cluttered with old fountain pens, eye glasses, cut glass, quilts, vases, old boxes, sets of china and dishes, old letters, WWII memorabilia. I was truly addicted, and even more so because these items had once belonged to the “family.” But soon this wasn’t enough; I needed something stronger, more challenging, and sadly more costly. The “beast” inside me was raging. (Apologies to my dear, but shocked readers)

It wasn’t long before I was found lurking in the darkest corner of the Internet. (no, silly reader, not porn! I was addicted, not perverted.) The dark corner for my addiction was Ebay. I had found my never ending supply of “old stuff” and the more primitive the better. I sought out wooden blocks of every shape and size, decorated with Disney characters, carved with letters of the alphabet, and old wooden egg crates. When that wasn’t enough, I moved to acquiring missing pieces for the old sets of dishes that we now had, and then I needed more McCoy pottery, always looking for the next item.

Along the way, in an antique store, I discovered brightly colored pieces of enamelware. Perhaps you, dear reader, have seen them—bright red, green, blue, or yellow tea pots, pitchers, coffee makers, plates, and other kitchenware. These soon began to regularly arrive on my front porch, from California, Texas, New Jersey, and even Europe. Sellers from every port proudly displayed their wares for sale to any buyer. It was too much for me to resist.

To my delight Jim was soon adding to my hunts. He was showing signs of sharing my addiction with his desire to acquire by year, golf clubs like every set that he had ever played with and then he had me searching for old, old books about basketball that were referenced in current books.

As a buyer I soon perfected my talent and technique for becoming the winning bidder in each auction. I snatched items from the hands of other bidders, swooping in at the last second with the winning bid. Such fun, such a rush, such a mess!

It soon became apparent to my family that Mom was out of control. With visions of someday having to pack away and get rid all my acquisitions they staged an intervention where I received an “order” to please not bring any more “old stuff” into the house or attic. It was at this point that I began to seek help for my addiction. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a twelve step program for my particular addiction, so I made up my own program. This included:

Step One: I admitted I was powerless over Ebay. My house and attic had become unmanageable.

Step Two: I came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity--My bank account and the realization that I couldn’t buy a bigger house.

Step Three: I made a decision to bring order to my house and my life.

Step Four: I made a searching and fearless inventory of all my “finds” and old stuff— sorting the junk from the good stuff--most of it had to go. (Yes, worried readers, I kept Jim and the cats.)

Step Five: Admitted to myself that I didn’t need more things and that I was depriving other bidders and buyers the pleasure of acquiring what they wanted.

Step Six: I was entirely ready to have my defects of character that contributed to this addiction removed. ( Animal-like characteristics such as squirreling away things just for fun or for another day and snarling at those who tried to outbid me.)

Step Seven: Humbly, I removed myself from Ebay and all of its tempting delights.

Step Eight: I began the process of unloading. (garage sales and giving away)

And finally: I admitted that I was bored with the whole thing and tired of my house becoming filled with old stuff and looking like… well ……(No, dear sensitive readers, I won’t say a naughty word.)


Today, I live junk free (well almost). I still occasionally visit the antique store, but rarely buy anything. I rarely visit Ebay and they have forgotten who I am even though sometimes I consider becoming a seller. I have replaced many of the old things in my house with new stuff. Additionally, my desire to acquire more has been replaced with a strong need to organize every drawer, closet, and cabinet thanks to Clean Sweep on TLC and Mission Organization on HGTV.

I admit that I still have the need for the thrill of the hunt and collecting. But for today I am satisfied by seeking out people who are fortunate enough to have been members of the CHS Class of 1963 (No, frightened readers, I am not a stalker!), helping to organize 45th year reunions in Las Vegas and occasionally mini-reunions of friends meeting for dinner!

I hope you will join me in the thrill of the “hunt”.

For a more serious look at this subject go to my previous post on Friday, August 31, 2007
Grandma's Attic

Grandma's Attic

Today I took advantage of a cool morning to do something that I had been putting off. Some time ago I created memory boxes for each member of our family. In the girls boxes I put special toys such as Jami’s Toddie Bear, Kim’s Kiddles, newspaper clippings, knick knacks, pictures, Barbies and other items only they could love and hopefully treasure. I did the same for Jim and for me. I knew that those boxes contained long forgotten items from our high school days in Childress including our annuals. These boxes are stored in the attic and can only be accessed when the temperature allows us to, so we always plan our trips up to that dreaded area when it is cool. Even though I put most of the items in our boxes myself, I am still amazed and surprised when I open them up and see what is there. Each item invokes a whole new trip down memory lane. There are pictures of Jim playing basketball along with yellowed and tattered newspaper clippings from his bulletin board that hung in his old Childress bedroom forever. Programs from past banquets and plays, all of my Trixie Belden and Bobbsey Twins books, my kindergarten work and the list goes on. Had I been a better person, I might have organized all of these items into carefully labeled acid free scrapbooks but that never happened, the task having fallen victim to lack of time and other priorities.

Now the task of preserving the past has grown even more daunting. Filling my attic, along with 16 containers of Christmas decorations and 14 more of Fall/Halloween decorations, are the boxes filled with the relics representing the pasts of our mothers and fathers and even grandparents. You know what I mean--labeled and unlabeled pictures back to the 1800's, report cards, letters, enough memorabilia from Jim’s Dad’s one year at Maryville College to convince us that his partying took precedence over studying, military items, and other “stuff”. These are the kind of things that grab our hearts each time we try to get rid of them and pile on guilt trips that cause us to close the boxes and vow to try again another time.

The questions today are these:

What does one do with the items from the past that no longer have value beyond the sentimental? What is our responsibility in preserving the past of our families? Of course, we want to remember our families from the past, but what is the best way to do this? What would our parents say to us today if they could about these items? How would they want them handled and passed on? Do we close our eyes and the lids on the boxes and leave it all there for OUR children to deal with as our parents have done for us?

I know that Jim and I are not alone. This seems to be a common problem for many of us at this time in our lives. I would love to know how you, my former classmates of '63, have dealt with these issues. Talk to me!

For today, I am dusting myself off, closing the attic door, and perhaps I'll read a good book!
Nicki