How Indonesia got its fabric

It is easy to find strong sentiments towards culture and influences most people consider foreign in the country. What constitutes being foreign in the Indonesian fashion industry nowadays appears to be whatever deemed to be immodest in clothing as it is considered to be not-so-Indonesia. We, for one, are in awe with how far we’ve gone to in the industry.

With how diverse the people of Indonesia are, it makes us wonder how is it possible that the fashion market is now going to a more uniformed direction throughout the years. This should be something everyone take a moment to think about, but half of the population doesn’t seem to find this unsettling. With these in mind, TFR decided to trace everything back to the beginning of fabrics in the archipelago.

Indonesia is located strategically between the prosperous China to the northeast and India, Middle East and Europe to the northwest. Our history of fabrics is, of course, closely knitted by the countless socio-economic, cultural and political changes in the archipelago; from the constant trading with foreign merchants and visits from missionaries to invasions by foreign countries. Some might have left a bad taste in the Indonesian history in general, but every single one of them has apparent impacts in the origin and development of fabrics.

The effects, however, were strongly experienced by communities in areas considered to be the centres of the archipelago, namely the coast of Sumatra, throughout Java, Madura, Bali and along the coasts of Kalimantan and Sulawesi. The sophistication of fabrics as the effect of prolonged contacts with foreigners in these areas are shown in local techniques of fabric production. Take, for example warp-ikat.

China’s military pressure on Vietnam triggered a massive migration from the Annam region of Vietnam to Indonesia in the eighth and second century BC, bringing along not only their people, but also the Dong Son culture. The technique of backstrap loom weaving is believed to be adapted from a part of the Dong Son culture that come to Indonesia, as well as the art of warp-ikat. Even the patterns and designs of Dong-Son bronzework, which ranges from the soul ship to the tree of life and geometric patterns depicting the details found within nature, still persist in warp-ikat and widely spread all over the island. We can still find the traces of this influence today, beneath the layers of innovations pouring over them through time.

The same thing happened when the great migration from China brought the culture of Late Chou to Indonesia. They introduced certain asymmetrical designs that heavily influence fabric craftsmanship in Kalimantan.

Foreign influences on our fabrics did not stop there. Another prevalent influence we adapted in our fabrics is those coming from India. We’ve already been in contact with Indian traders by the second century AD, which precedes the establishment of our very first Hindu kingdom in the fifth century before the founding of the Srivijaya Kingdom in the seventh century.

These show quite a broad range of influences in the socio-cultural and political aspects at a very early stage, and it was never meant to stop there. We may not be a country back then, but with how strategically the Nusantara is located, the rise of our civilisation soon caught up with the rest of the world. In the process, a number of European countries found their way here; one of them was the Dutch.

Let’s take a look at Javanese batik. Back in the days, the Dutch East India Company occupied most of the archipelago with Java as its centre. The invasion of the Dutch began not politically, but economically. Instead of the Kingdom of Netherlands, it was the Dutch East India Company that established itself in and governed the areas. Their trading business became big, so did the trade of fabrics. Javanese batik has always been heavily influenced by the Chinese and the Indians, but later on, for the longest time, the Dutch snatched the role. At this point, the influence of Dutch art deco started creeping in, enriching the broad range of batik patterns. This was strongly felt in the northern part of Java.

By the end of the 18th century, the Dutch East India Company was about to collapsed, and that was exactly when the Dutch government finally took over the business and commenced the Dutch colonial empire. During this time, the Dutch began to explore the batik business. This drove demand for batik, which resulted in the introduction of one of the earliest fast-fashion industry methods: the cap (stamp) block-printing method.

This also raised demand for cotton, which should mean an expansion of cotton farming in Java. However, importing cheap cloths from Europe, Egypt, India and Japan was deemed more practical and economical. These batik printed on cheap cloths became what we now perceive as batik for daily functions. This method did boost and speed up batik production, but at the same time, it transformed batik craftsmanship from a part of culture and a ritual into a simpler, more business-oriented, capital-centric practice.

While this answers how we got to the uniformed, cheap and utilitarian kind of fashion today, there was also a tinge of disappointment at the realisation that the process of diminishing most of the cultural aspects of our own fabric has always been in motion. And this is just one of the numerous influences the Dutch left behind.

In 1942, the Dutch was chased out of the archipelago. Then, the Japanese came and occupied it, bringing with them yet another cultural influence. Due to war, needs for cloths shot up, prompting Japan to begin intensive cotton cultivation in Timor. Because of this, any kind of cloth became scarce in the market in general, especially cambric, the fine linen used for tulis batik. As a result, many tulis batik artists lost their job.

However, Eliza van Zuylen and others who ran a workshop in Pekalongan began producing batik with Japanese-inspired patterns and designs, which was then called hokokai batik. The target of these batik are specifically the Japanese. However, unlike the previous breakthrough in batik production, tulis batik was considered a luxury and rarity, considering that they require finer materials and their production is much more time-consuming.

Textiles have always been important in the archipelago. Even to this day, our vast ranges of kain has shaped our identity internationally. Ikat-warp has always been attached to us that it became synonymous to the Indonesian identity while in all actuality, it is woven not only with materials, but also all kinds of different cultures. In Indonesia, fabrics are produced more than just for practical needs. They hold a ritual significance to them that exceeds fulfilling day-to-day requirement. Fabrics tell stories and personalities in each choice of materials, in each dye used, in each design and pattern they bear. They were all different, but they reflect the faces of Indonesia in their own way.

At this point, we realised that unveiling the significance of fabrics, garments, clothes—fashion in Indonesia means retelling what might be an endless story that shaped our country, our community, us. This should mark the beginning of our trip back to study all the differences, all the meanings of the small details in the history of cloths which are exclusively and diversely ours to remind ourselves of who we are.