Indonesia's Modernist Tug of War: The Bandung and Yogyakarta Schools of Art
Mochtar Apin, Once Independent, Always Independent, 1946
Across Indonesia’s thousands of islands and hundreds of ethnic groups, the country has long nurtured a rich visual culture—ranging from intricate batik textiles and shadow puppetry (wayang) to temple reliefs from the Hindu-Buddhist kingdoms of the 8th century. Art was deeply woven into daily life, ritual, and spirituality, sustained through generations with profound communal and symbolic meaning. Amid this vast and enduring tradition, one era stands out for its rupture and reinvention: the emergence of modern art in Indonesia, one of the most polarising and politically charged chapters in Indonesian art history.
Like much of Southeast Asia, Indonesia’s journey towards modern art emerged from the long shadow of colonialism. After centuries under Dutch rule, artists found themselves in a process of cultural reclamation—balancing inherited European techniques with the growing need to articulate a national voice. What came out of it was not a singular artistic identity, but two divergent schools of thought, rooted in the country’s creative epicentres: Bandung and Yogyakarta.
But before this divide took shape, Indonesian art had already begun carving its own path.
The roots of Indonesian Art
Modern Indonesian art began with figures like Raden Saleh (Indonesian, 1811–1880), the first Indonesian artist formally trained in Europe. A Javanese aristocrat, Saleh mastered Romanticism and painted grand historical scenes and emotive animal portraits, much like his European contemporaries, such as Eugene Delacroix [1]. He challenged feudal and traditional structures, yes, but managed only to do so through adapting the style of the colonisers. His work symbolised an ironic duality: an Indonesian artist celebrated in European salons, yet always viewed through the lens of exoticism.
Raden Saleh, Forest Fire, 1849
On the topic of exoticism, European painters working in Indonesia developed the Hindia Molek / Mooi Indië (“Beautiful Indies”) style in the early 20th century—romanticised, postcard-like visions of idyllic landscapes. Meant to be taken home as souvenirs, these picturesque works catered to colonial tastes, flattening the realities of Indonesian life into decorative scenes.
This sparked a response from artists like S. Sudjojono (Indonesian, 1913-1985) [2], co-founder of PERSAGI [3] (Persatuan Ahli Gambar Indonesia), who rejected this aesthetic in favour of realism. To Sudjojono, art should reflect the spirit (jiwa) of the people: their lives, their struggles, and their politics. This critical stance marked a turning point, situating art as a tool for national awakening.
Image of S. Sudjojono, Nicknamed the Father of Modern Indonesian Art
Still, Indonesian modernism grappled with tension. While Western modernism prized individualism, abstraction, and experimentation, Indonesian artists largely resisted avant-garde movements in favour of building a cohesive national identity. This debate over form and content would define the country’s two most influential art movements.
Bandung and Yogyakarta: The Two Visions
Two creative strongholds emerged out of these growing artistic and ideological tensions - Bandung and Yogyakarta. Bandung artists leaned into abstraction and formalism, While Yogyakarta’s artists put an emphasis on narrative and social realism, creating a dynamic tension that energised Indonesian modernism
The Bandung School: Conceptual Rigour and Formal Experimentation
The Bandung Institute of Technology
Centred around the Institut Teknologi Bandung (ITB), the Bandung School was deeply influenced by Dutch artist and teacher Ries Mulder (Dutch, 1909-1973) [4] and the modernist values he brought with him. Mulder, who introduced Cubism and modernist abstraction to the art school in Bandung, faced backlash for promoting what many saw as foreign, elitist styles.
Ries Mulder, CityScape, C. 1960s
As a result of Westernisation, ITB emphasised formal techniques, conceptual clarity, and intellectual exploration, Bandung artists engaged with abstraction, structure, and theory—often divorced from overt regional political commentary.
Figures such as Ahmad Sadali, Mochtar Apin, A.D. Pirous, and Popo Iskandar developed sophisticated bodies of work that fused formal experimentation with spiritual introspection. Sadali’s textural abstractions echo Islamic meditative traditions, while Pirous reimagined Arabic calligraphy through a modernist lens. Iskandar, meanwhile, distilled his subjects into vibrant, rhythmic forms, revealing elegance in the everyday.
However, Bandung’s cerebral approach drew criticism. A 1954 ITB exhibition was famously condemned by poet Sitor Situmorang for lacking an “Indonesian soul.” Critics felt it leaned too heavily on Western models, questioning its relevance to post-independence identity. Yet, as art historian Helena Spanjaard later noted, both the Bandung School and its critics were shaped by Western ideas—the real divide lay in intent: Bandung prioritised formal exploration, while others emphasised social and political concerns.
Today, the institution continues to shape art historians, curators, and critics with strong academic leanings, though some still argue it hasn’t fully broken away from inherited frameworks.
The Yogyakarta School: Narrative, Craft, and Social Energy
In contrast, Yogyakarta, anchored by the Indonesian Institute of the Arts (ISI), forged a path rooted in expression, storytelling, and accessibility. Drawing from realism, folklore, and traditional crafts like batik, Yogyakarta artists pursued a visual language that was unmistakably Indonesian—politically engaged and spiritually grounded.
Yogyakarta Insitute of the Arts
Sudjojono’s legacy is most alive here: The city’s art scene focuses continually on the lived realities of everyday people,and is infused with anti-colonial and revolutionary energy.
S. Sudjojono, Perusing a Poster, 1956
Yogyakarta’s real strength lies in its communal spirit. Artist-run spaces, grassroots collectives, and informal residencies foster experimentation without institutional pressure. Its lower cost of living and openness to critique have made it a haven for independent creators.
During the Suharto regime (1965–1998) [5], which saw a clampdown on politically expressive work in favour of aesthetic formalism, artists rebelled. Art under Suharto was depoliticised and commercialised, yet artists continued to resist through irony and subversion. In this context, ISI became a locus for artistic dissent, embodying the belief that Indonesian art must remain politically engaged.
Ex-Political Detainee Hendra Gunawan, Gerilyawan Melapor (A Guerrilla Reports), 1950
Figures like Djoko Pekik, Nasirun, and Heri Dono reflect Yogyakarta’s commitment to narrative, symbolism, and social critique. Pekik’s vivid expressionism captures political unrest and working-class resilience, while Nasirun blends Javanese mythology with layered, theatrical compositions. Heri Dono channels satire through wayang-inspired creatures, fusing humour with pointed critique.
Heri Dono, Upside Down Mind, 2015
More than a stylistic tendency, Yogyakarta’s approach to art reflects a broader commitment to social engagement and cultural specificity. Its artists resist abstraction for abstraction’s sake, choosing instead to centre local histories, collective memory, and mythic imagination. The city’s decentralised, collaborative ethos has allowed it to retain a distinct identity within Indonesian contemporary art.
Parallel currents
Though often described as rivals, Bandung and Yogyakarta are perhaps better understood as reflections of Indonesia’s cultural breadth. Bandung offers academic rigour and conceptual clarity; Yogyakarta, narrative intimacy and a deep social pulse.
Today, the country’s contemporary art scene still bears the imprint of both. As the global market leans towards novelty and commercial appeal, Indonesian artists continue to wrestle with more elemental concerns: Who is art for? Can it remain political in an increasingly depoliticised world? How can it stay rooted while reaching outward?
These questions are not easily resolved. But in navigating them, artists shaped by Bandung and Yogyakarta carry forward a uniquely Indonesian voice, layered and plural with years' worth of dialogue behind them. What more could you ask for from a rivalry?
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Written by
Fithriah Hashim
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[1] A key figure in French Romanticism, Delacroix is best known for his expressive brushwork, vivid colour palette, and dramatic subject matter. His work stood in contrast to the academic Neoclassicism of the time, favouring emotion and movement over order and restraint.
Delacroix’s paintings often drew from literature, contemporary politics, and historical events Liberty Leading the People (1830) being his most iconic. He influenced later generations of artists, especially the Impressionists, through his emphasis on colour and painterly technique.
[2] Regarded as the father of modern Indonesian art, S. Sudjojono (1913–1986) advocated for sincerity and realism in painting. He pushed artists to portray the true spirit of Indonesian life, moving away from romanticised, decorative styles inherited from colonial influences.
[3] Formed in 1938, Persatuan Ahli Gambar Indonesia (PERSAGI) was the first Indonesian modern art collective. It laid the groundwork for a national art identity, promoting expressive, socially conscious art reflective of the Indonesian people’s realities.
[4] A Dutch painter and teacher at the Bandung Institute of Technology, Ries Mulder (1909–1973) influenced a generation of Indonesian artists with his structured, Cubist-inspired approach. While technically admired, his style sparked debate on Western influence in post-independence Indonesian art.
[5] Spanning from 1967 to 1998, Suharto’s New Order government tightly controlled artistic expression. Art seen as politically subversive or left-leaning was censored, while state-approved themes like development, harmony, and nationalism were promoted.
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