We negotiated a taxi to take us to our host and art partner Ferial’s place, near the city forest in North Bandung. It would take an hour we discovered, not so much due to the distance, but to the ubiquitous crazy traffic. Don’t get me wrong, the nudging and weaving in and out of traffic is good-natured and the sound of car and bike horns is a little beep to say ‘I’m here’, rather than the aggressive ‘get out of my fucking way’ we’re used to in the UK. People negotiate the roads amazingly well, and are very chilled about the whole shebang, aided by self-appointed traffic management teams, who allow people to cut into the flow, merely by taking their lives into their hands by stepping into the traffic and waving their arms around – all for a few rupiah from the occasional grateful driver.

We arrived at Ferial’s (and, new to us husband Doni’s) place, nestled in a valley on the edge of the city forest and with the sound of the river drifting across us. We knocked on the door and were almost bowled over by a very excited Ferial, who enveloped us both in bear hugs, and after we recovered she introduced us to her husband, Doni. Ferial is a Muslim and wears a hijab, but Indonesian Islam is a different kettle of fish to the more conservative type we’re used to in the UK. It’s been around for a long time, for a start, so has had time to mature, unlike some of the more recent editions that have developed in other countries – there’s still a certain amount of conservatism, , but, on the whole a lot more relaxed. So, taboos against touching men, music, and the status of women are very much easier to be around. We’re always sensitive to what’s going on, and take the lead from the locals, and still act as respectfully as we can, but it’s nice to let your shoulders down and just be together, with people’s faith and philosophy being something which is just there, rather than any kind of barrier or any need to be walking on eggshells.

We spent the next few hours excitedly catching up with each other, tales of what art we’d each been making, how we all navigated the pandemic and the lockdowns, and then onto planning what we might do.  With COP happening we’d been thinking about climate change and the environment a lot, so we decided we’d use that as a starting point and maybe see how some of our mutual participants might connect remotely. We thought we might work with the local ‘art club’ and see if we can put them together with ours in the UK, and what workshops we might be able to do with local artists.

But first, Jatiwangi.  We’d come a week earlier than intended, in order to participate in Rampak Genteng, a triennial project bringing together several thousand participants to create an orchestra playing terracotta instruments. Jatiwangi Arts Factory (JAF) organise the festival and are a big noise in the Javan arts scene. Decades ago, at the tail end of the terracotta roof tile boom, which provided employment to thousands of local people, they were able to purchase a tile factory, which has since been converted into an arts and community hub. We’d met one of the founders, Arif, on our previous visit to Jogjakarta, and were keen to see what JAF were doing at their home in Jatiwangi.

More about that later