We set out to build a ball,
but we ended up building
something even more valuable: trust.
The initial idea was ambitious: create a tensegrity ball in bamboo with diameter 2.5m together with Lector Andry Widyowijatnoko from ITB.
A seemingly straightforward project, it was meant to be an exercise in design, material selection, and craftsmanship. We meticulously planned every detail, first in a scale model, then in real size. Hours were modelling, measuring, screwing, drilling, prototyping, and testing. We envisioned the ball in action – the satisfying roll, let’s say for now we are still looking for that moment; some tweaks need to be done, in order for the ball to roll properly. Let’s take a moment to think of why, when, and how we document this. What is the meaning of all this?
For me as we delved deeper into the process of making the ball, I saw something emerge. It wasn't just about the ball itself anymore. The collaborative effort, the shared problem-solving, the open communication – these elements wove a different kind of fabric, one far stronger and more resilient than any material we could have chosen for the ball. We were building trust.
The ball, in its final form, became a tangible representation of this trust. It wasn't just a collection of materials; it was a symbol of our shared commitment, our mutual respect, and our collective belief in each other's abilities. It represented the hours of conversation, the shared meals, days fueled by coffee and a common goal.
https://www.instagram.com/awi.bamboo?igsh=MXQwdzFqOHFqcHlnYQ==
I also want to recall an image on Monday night at 23:00; we are all sitting on the white L-shaped couch, while Demi was sitting on the side table. Her body position - that of a seated person with one leg drawn up on the bench and and arm slung over their bent knee correlates with the term angkring, in Indonesian. Angkring itself means “a temporary landing place”, like birds on a wire who alight for a while, then move on again. This is the root word for angkringan, the ubiquitous mobile food and coffee vendors who roll their carts out every morning and evening.
This term has a particularly transient relationship to time, as does the term nongkrong.—an Indonesian term meaning, essentially, “hanging out”—seems an unlikely activity to spark philosophical mining of the depths of human existence. I’ve been told that in literal translation the word nongkrong approximates “squatting by the side of the road with a cigarette” or “sitting around because you’re not doing any work”. “I have also come to understand that nongkrong as it is practised among Indonesian artists, intellectuals and activists is actually a profoundly productive and creative practice that functions without overt regard to the capitalist model. Thus, I have come to think of it as more akin to “non-productive time”—neither overtly goal-driven, nor unproductive in the capitalist sense. Rather than focusing on end-product productivity, nongkrong offers a holistic view of art as a long-term social process. It is a site of potential action, a social space that is all about the pleasures of sharing time with friends.” Reinaert Van hoe also mentioned this term to us in his lecture. Did we also practice nongkrong? 🍌