For once I am not announcing the opening of a new bar.

This Monday, the 21^st of December, I am opening my very own gallery. It is the first one of its kind in Indonesia, one that is totally focused on antique maps, prints and books. In here you can buy an original hundreds-year-old Blaue map, or you can sit down and browse through the books about old Java with a cup of coffee.

Why a gallery in rare maps? Because it is fun to do, and I hope it can increase the awareness of Indonesia’s rich heritage with locals and expats alike. Of course, the Dutch have not always been the most friendly rulers, but they were pretty good at making the most beautiful maps of, for example, the Spice Islands. We show a number of them in the gallery.

Unfortunately, my building contractor was less impressed with my new venture as during the fit-out I discovered I was missing old prints of Australia and Indonesia that had not yet been inventoried. His workers had laid the carpet on the gallery floor, and I figured it could only be that the workers of this Javanese mandor had taken them. The initial denial came fast and furious by Pak Samudi, and I caught myself being angry and talking in a way the old colonial rulers probably expressed their anger. But, for once, it worked! The next morning Pak Samudi came in with an old blue portfolio case. It contained most of the prints that had disappeared two days earlier. I was relieved and I gratefully shook both of Pak Samudi’s hands.  But when I opened the case, my happiness turned instantly around in deep disappointment. Most of the prints were heavily damaged and the workers had released their own creative skills. Three-dimensional motorcycles, drawn in red ink, were now parked on the deck of the VOC ships. Another black and white print, showing the first meeting between white settlers and aboriginals in Western Australia, had been colored in by one of Samudi’s workers. It now looked like aboriginals without clothes were meeting aboriginals in western clothes. And a jet plane was flying over them. I looked at Samudi, who innocently asked me: ’Kenapa Pak?’, while coming forward to look closer at the prints. I pointed at the Ducati on the deck of the Batavia ship. He tried to defend himself and his workers. ‘But they were already old pieces of paper, pak.’, he mumbled.

An Indonesian friend, a clever businessman who was educated in the States, came also down to see the progress while I was hanging some valuable maps on the wall. ‘Why these old maps?’, he asked me in confusion. ‘Can you still use them?’ His reaction made it even more obvious to me that Indonesia needs an antique gallery that might ad awareness to the rich history of their country. I explained that they are original maps and that they are hundreds of years old. ‘Ah… ‘, he nodded slowly, but obviously looking with puzzled thoughts at the frames on the wall. ‘So, who was the artist?’, was the next question. And here I thought that opening a gallery would be less frustrating than running a bar.

The expats look at these things differently. Without exception their first question – often even before they step in – is ‘Do you have originals as well?’ What!? They are all original! I spent money on them! Look, they are torn, there are watermarks and wormholes! They are damaged because they are hundreds of years old! I fight my inner soul, who tells me to block them from coming in and send them back to bar downstairs. For a moment I want to ask Samudi’s workers if they can scratch a Ducati on the  hood of their car, to show the difference between a repro and an original, but then, with the face of the most polite host, I hold the doors open and welcome them into Bartele Gallery.

If you have an interest in the cartographic history of Indonesia, please drop by.  From 5pm onwards we have some snacks and drinks. It’s really easy to find the Gallery – we are located on the 4^th floor above the Cazbar. The gallery will be open daily from noon until 8pm.

BARTELE