HE cuts an unassuming figure, despite his eye-catching batik shirt of beige and brown — colours of the earth. An undecipherable smile on his face, his eyes behind his glasses look on intently at the models sashaying down the makeshift "runway" set up at The RuMa Hotel and Residences, Kuala Lumpur for a fashion show featuring bamboo-as-material and bamboo-inspired fashion wares, organised as part of the recently concluded KLWKND event, curated by renowned festival director Joe Sidek.
"The standard of Sam's work is absolutely world-class. He's on a completely different level. But not a lot of people know this." Joe's Sidek's words, uttered so passionately when we'd met earlier over breakfast, ring in my ear as I scrutinise Samsuddin Abu Bakar or Sam, as he's better known, from my perch on the other side of the room.
The 58-year-old batik maestro, who's also the design director for Fifabart — fibre, fabric, art — an enterprise dealing in fibre, fabric and art (hence the name) must have sensed my eyes boring into his back.
The moment he turns and smiles, I gesture to my notebook and signal that I wish to talk with him. His eyes light up and he nods happily before turning his attention back to even more sashays and struts on the "runway" in a charming showcase of designs from some of the country's talented fashion designers.
TURNING THE TIDES
"I've always wanted to change people's perception of batik," confesses Sam, who's been in the business for almost 30 years. A wry smile crosses his face when he adds: "Whenever batik is mentioned, the first thing that comes to most people's mind is batik sarong. Or they'll say, 'oh, my mother has that or my grandmother has batik sarong'. The thing is, batik is much more than that."
He points to the fact that outside of Malaysia, for example, in countries such as Australia and New Zealand and many others, batik is regarded very highly and considered a work of art, gracing walls and showcased as hangings, much like art works that one sees at art galleries and museums.
"Even though batik isn't part of their culture, they treat it with a lot of respect and find it interesting," shares the father of four, who holds a Masters in Textile from Universiti Teknologi Mara (UiTM), adding softly: "And their batik works are fantastic."
Batik, the art of decorating cloth using wax and dye, has become very popular and well known among contemporary artists around the world who regard it as a wonderfully creative medium. Unfortunately, that level of appreciation has yet to catch on here in Malaysia.
"It's tough, especially on the business venture side of things, when people continue to view it as a craft and not a work of art," says Sam, a small sigh escaping his lips as he allows for the reality of his statement to sink in.
A pause ensues before he continues: "People aren't willing to part with their money for quality batik. Some tell me they can get cheaper in Kelantan. I remember having a conversation with some Datins and asking them how is it they were willing to pay RM3,000 for Milo (fashion line based in Bali whose designer Milo Migliavacca is acclaimed as 'The Original Prince of Indonesian Batik Couture'.) or Chanel, and yet weren't willing to buy Samsuddin's work for RM3,000. Things can change if only you're willing to support the industry."
A former lecturer at the Malaysian Institute of Art, Sam has curated numerous exhibitions on batik. Like his recent showcase at the GMBB Mall in Kuala Lumpur for the KLWKND event, where his exquisite handiwork was showcased in a series called Line Expressions.
"I do wall hangings, in particular, because I want to display batik at public spaces for everyone to see," he elaborates, adding: "When I was in Finland for a two-week exchange programme teaching batik at Helsinki Polytechnic, I saw all these lovely fabrics hanging as pieces of art at the museums and opera house. Here? Nothing."
But batik is so old fashioned, I couldn't help blurting out, in part, intent on playing the devil's advocate.
"Oooh, that perception has to change," he exclaims in dismay. Leaning in to make his point, Sam continues: "See the wall hangings, which I'd put up at GMBB Mall? The designs don't look old-fashioned, do they? Batik is our cultural heritage and I feel that we, as Malaysians, must try to change that perception."
He points to Indonesian batik, as example, a country where batik is considered part of an ancient tradition. "Even though it's heritage, it's not regarded as old fashioned; it's a way of life that's embraced by both old and young," says Sam, continuing: "In Indonesia, they believe you're born in batik (babies are wrapped in one) and will die in batik. They make the baby's buai (swing) from batik and babies are carried in batik. And then when they get married, they wear the best batik for their ceremony."
When it comes to the history of batik in our country, the absence of comprehensive documentation is very glaring. According to the Museum of Cultural History of Oslo, the Javanese influenced Malay batik-making technically, as well as in the development of designs.
As late as the 1920s, Javanese batik makers introduced the use of wax and copper blocks in the east coast of Malaysia. Meanwhile, it's said that the production of hand-drawn batik in the country came much later and is related to the Javanese batik tulis.
"As I mentioned to Joe (Sidek) earlier, all the books about batik have been written by foreigners — Mat Sallehs who don't even understand terms like kaki kain lah, kepala kain lah and yet, they're writing books about it," laments Sam, an expression of exasperation crossing his face.
Adding, He says: "And yet, we have scholars, me included, who have our Masters, PhDs… why aren't we doing anything about it? We're severely lacking in content and documentation on our batik. I wish there was a body that can keep all the information. Or at least, if not, have a body that can support us and the industry so we can carry it a step forward."
TELL A STORY
Since he's touched on Indonesian batik, my curiosity is piqued as to what our batik master thinks are the distinctive differences between "ours" and "theirs". Are "theirs" better, I ask.
He smiles before replying: "Indonesian batik has stories. When we talk about the parang, for example, this design (consisting of slanting rows of thick knife-like segments running in parallel diagonal bands) were once used exclusively by the royal courts of central Java. Commoners weren't allowed to use it then, but of course, today it's seen everywhere. Also, every design has its own name, like kawung and ceplok."
The kawung motif is the oldest known batik pattern and comprises the repetition of circles or elliptical shapes that touch or overlap. The motif symbolises the emptiness of lust and worldly desires, thus producing perfect self-control. Meanwhile, the ceplok motif has repetitive geometric designs based on squares, rhombs, circles, stars, etc., and symbolises harmony, perfection and balance in life.
"With any product, it's important to do proper branding. Everything must come with a story or else it won't sell," says Sam, the eighth of nine siblings, elaborating: "You might be able to sell a simple scarf if there's a great story behind it. Especially when it comes to design. Why was it done like that etc.? We don't have this."
Our batik, he believes, is too contemporary. But that's not a bad thing. "Come up with a story to tell so that people would be more fascinated by it," he elaborates, adding: "Like when you have lines in the design. Why are they there? When we do a product, write out the descriptions and what they mean. Have them printed out so when people buy it, they can appreciate it even more."
To know how to brand and market your product is so important, he says, expression earnest. "When my children were younger, they saw me working at my batik creations every day. I used to tell them that it may look easy, but it's not. Doing a product is one thing, but selling it is a different ball game. We need marketing know-how, we need to be able to talk, to package and of course, now there's social media to manoeuvre too."
Chuckling wryly, he points to the fact that artists don't necessarily make the best "marketeers" of their own products. And that's a big disadvantage. Confides Sam: "We're strictly artists and we produce things. So, we need someone who can represent us and help sell our work. I wish we can be an all-rounder because it's not easy."
Artists who have the ability to market their products well have a big advantage, believes Sam. Because at the end of the day, being the creators mean they're in the best position to really know what they want to say.
"Because when we pass everything to another party to do, they might not be able to catch the essence of what we're trying to put forward. This is a huge dilemma and a real problem for us in the industry," muses Sam, who has a workshop in Rawang, not far from where he lives.
It's especially more important now than ever before to know how to promote our batik, especially with the younger generation. "People like Joe and I, at our age, we don't mind. We can wear batik like this," he chuckles, pointing to the batik shirt that he's wearing.
But when it comes to the young and their taste, a different assessment is required. Brows furrowing, Sam points out: "One thing we need to understand is colour trends. What colours are the youngsters attracted to and are wearing these days? We need to understand about motifs and what sells. Perhaps we can consider those ethnic or tattoo motifs? They'd look great and it doesn't have to be so full. It's all about placements."
The possibilities are there, believes Sam, and it's all about repositioning batik. "It can work," he says passionately, before pointing once again to the fact that in Indonesia, the young wear their batik with pride.
Another sigh escapes his lips when he says: "Here, we look up so much to western culture. We're so proud when we get to buy bags from Louis Vuitton, Hermes, Chanel or Prada, but not so proud of our cultural heritage. How do we move that? How do we change that perception?"
Education is one. Sam believes that we should be having more write-ups in the media, in addition to talks and exhibitions to raise the awareness on our treasured heritage. Excitedly, he suggests: "Let people realise how awesome our works are. The only thing we have right now is Kraftangan, but I feel they're doing it at a very conservative level. We need to make it fun like how museums and art galleries in New York and London do it. People love to go there, right?"
THE JOURNEY
The soft-spoken batik artist was born in Singapore but moved to Alor Gajah, Melaka, where his mother hails from, at the age of 12. Sam shares that aside from him, the only other creative person in the family is his sister, who's a photographer.
After completing his schooling, he decided to pursue the arts, enrolling at UiTM to do his degree and later, Masters, in Textile. His first venture into textile was during his stint at the Malaysian Institute of Art back in 1996, where he was a full-time lecturer in the textile department.
"When I was younger, I loved drawing. So, I guess going into art and design in UiTM was the obvious — and right — choice for me. When I was there, I met with different artists, competed against them and my interest in the area grew. Then, when I started lecturing, I met with talented young students with so much creativity and it (interest) got more intense for me."
At the same time, Sam was also conducting workshops. And it was in one of his workshops that he met Anne Courtney, an expatriate whose husband was a trade director with the Irish embassy. Courtney, recalls Sam, was learning to do Shibori, a Japanese manual tie-dying technique, which produces a number of different patterns on fabric, with him.
"One day, she decided to have scarves made to send back to Ireland as a business," he remembers, continuing: "I actually introduced her to a friend, but it didn't work out. So, she came back to me and said, 'Sam, you have the energy and the means to do it. Why don't you do it instead? I'll give you the money and you do it!' That's how I started in the business and later I started doing my own workshops."
Rewinding even further back into his life story, Sam confides that his father, who was born in Negri Sembilan, passed away when he (Sam) was only 13, leaving him, his mother and siblings to fend for themselves.
Recalls the artist: "My mother was a housewife then, and at the same time, my brothers, who were already married, lived in Singapore. My older sisters too lived away with their own family. So, it was just the four of us (including my mother) living in our house in Melaka."
Asked who was the one responsible for guiding him on his early journey, he shakes his head slowly before confiding that he never really had anyone to push or drive him when he was growing up. "I did everything myself. In a way, I was lucky because I happened to meet a lot of people when I was studying and they helped to inspire my interest."
Asked about the work he does today, Sam shares that his production is generally very small and niche. He gets commissioned to create by clients. "They'll come and tell me they want some Oriental motifs or Japanese elements on their pieces and I will try to work with their request," explains Sam.
Smiling, he tells me that he's particularly inclined towards more contemporary designs. "I also like to see the process, for example, the well-defined lines. Not just what you see in Kelantan and Terengganu where everything seems to be pretty spontaneous."
STRONG IDENTITY
Research is a huge component of his work, he stresses, adding that one doesn't just sit there waiting for the "a-ha" moment to hit. "That's the difference between craft and art," he says, before posing: "How can you be inspired when you don't have an inspiration? If you have an inspiration, you need to find out more about it. What are the different types of Japanese colours, what are Japanese flowers and its elements, and so on."
Turning once again to what's happening closer to home, Sam laments that Malaysia still doesn't have a strong identity when it comes to representation. "Apart from the bunga raya (hibiscus), what else is there? We don't push it. But when you think about it, there's much to be inspired by when it comes to design."
Reaching for his phone on the table, Sam turns to me excitedly and asks if he can show me pictures of his work. I inch nearer and couldn't help but elicit an exclamation of awe at some of the images popping up on the screen.
"I've done designs on wood carvings too," he says, pointing to a picture of a kepala perahu (head of the boat), adding enthusiastically: "You see the dots and the lines? I adapted these onto clothes. Some of my designs have been worn by famous artistes like my favourite jazz artist George Benson during his performance in Malaysia and also Celine Dion, when she came down. See, Sarah Brightman and Lionel Richie also sported my work!"
Sam's preferred colour palette, I duly discover, doesn't include what he calls "disco colours" (such as red, blue and green). Why? He chuckles before replying wryly: "You know why people don't really wear batik in Malaysia? Because it feels like you've spilled all the colours onto that single cloth. It's too bright. I prefer muted colours and tones."
Sometimes, he confides, his clients request for those bright colours to be incorporated because they feel the colours enhance the overall look. "Given a choice, I wouldn't do anything like that," admits Sam, adding: "If I really have to do it, I'll be very careful with the colours I use. I wouldn't put so many colours in one piece. If they want something bright, I'll use red, but perhaps a different tone of red. It will stand out but won't look like as if it's shouting at you!"
The works of the late Datuk Chuah Thean Teng, a Malaysian artist widely credited for developing batik as a painting technique, and Khalil Ibrahim, an artist known for his drawing, watercolour and acrylic, number among Sam's favourites.
"I don't see any of the younger local artists doing that kind of work anymore," says Sam, adding that these days, he's attracted to the works of designers from Indonesia, India and most significantly, Japan.
Elaborating, Sam, who showcased an installation with Shibori at the Annex Gallery in Central Market, Kuala Lumpur, not too long ago, shares: "I get most of my inspiration from Japanese designs. I love the fact that they're so meticulous and intricate. For example, when they do their Shibori or tie-dyes, you can see there's so much work that goes into it. Not just simply tie circles and dip and then call it batik! It's more than that."
As we near the end of our chat, I point out to Sam, whose clients also include a number of Asian prime ministers and even the Sultan of Brunei, that his has certainly been a long journey. And one riddled with challenges. What continues to drive him?
He looks thoughtful as he reflects the question. "I want to see batik move from where it is today and brought to the next level," he replies slowly, before concluding: "I want to see batik not just used as sarong or kebaya, but also be accepted as a work of art, hanging proudly in art galleries and public spaces. That's my ultimate dream."