Natasha Gabriella Tontey has made a career out of mining our deepest, darkest fears. This Indonesian artist was studying on a residency in Yokohama’s Koganecho neighborhood—an artsy district with a sleazy past—when the idea for her latest exhibition struck her.
The neighborhood was once a drug-ridden red-light district filled with more than 150 “one-woman brothels” until the city government started to clean the place up about a decade ago. Today, the city’s residents would rather forget Koganecho’s past.
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But not Natasha. She’s interested in people’s fears, and she quickly realized that the people of Yokohama were afraid of talking openly about Koganecho’s past. This fear influenced her art exhibition “Little Shop of Horrors,” which mixes toys with ghoulish imagery to open up a dialogue about the neighborhood’s history.
VICE Indonesia’s Yudhistira Agato spoke with Natasha about what Yokohama’s fears can tell us about Indonesia’s own dark past.
VICE Indonesia: Did you name your exhibition, “Little Shop of Horrors,” after the old American horror movie?
Natasha Gabriella Tontey: That movie is an inspiration. I like the movie, but the plot has nothing to do with my exhibition. But concept-wise, it fits, so I decided to adopt the name.
What was your first exposure to horror?
Well, the horror I’m talking about here is not the supernatural kind. It’s more of a personal kind. Horror is such a broad concept and through my art, I try to ask the question of how fears can be manifested and recreated to control other people and the public.
So it’s more about societal horrors?
Yes. When I was young, I would watch the G-30S/PKI movie and I totally bought into it. As I got older and talked to more people, I realized it was nothing but a lie. It was propaganda.
How did this realization affect your art?
It got me curious as to how I could develop my art. Even though my creations often take the form of ‘ghastly’ objects, the supernatural is not what I’m after. I’m just trying to convey my message through forms that I enjoy.
How do you connect the two? Your style, which looks a bit horrorish and this focus on real-world horrors?
Well, “Little Shop of Horrors,” was initially created when I was in residency in Yokohama. In Koganecho to be exact. The area used to be full of brothels and prostitution before the Japanese government cleaned it up and turned it into an arts district. But I was frustrated with the art institutions there, because they weren’t willing to talk about the dark history of the area. So I tried to breach the subject through “Little Shop of Horrors,” with a more fun, toy shop kind of thing.
For three month, I tried to figure out what scares Japanese people—what fears they had. After that, I reclassified all my research and put it together with Japanese ghost characters. I wrote 12 new stories, and paired each one with a ghost toy. So people would read the story first without knowing what the toy was about. People in Koganecho were still very sensitive about the area’s dark, prostituty past.
Why is the area still so sensitive?
It’s more of a pride thing. Since the area was half-filled with government institutions, they couldn’t afford to be too radical. But I tried to find an opening to talk about the area’s issues anyway.
Can you find any parallels in Indonesia?
Take the communism scare for example. This one time I was wearing a shirt with Frida Kahlo and an image of a hammer and sickle. That made my dad really nervous. ‘They would arrest you for wearing that,’ he said. It’s things like that. The government sticks their hands so deep into society.
Why do government’s feel compelled to be so intrusive?
It’s probably some political bullshit we don’t know about. They want to control society, just like religion.
So we were talking about parallels. How are the two countries similar in what makes people scared?
Visually, they are very similar. Like we have the kuntilanak in Indonesia. Thailand has it too, but with a different name. In Japan, such a creature is called a yurei. Indonesia has a kolor ijo. Japan has a kappa. Even the stories behind the creatures are similar. Yurei is similar to our sundel bolong. It’s a dead woman who is trying to find her baby. It’s unclear who came up with these stories, or why they work to scare people, but the elements are similar.
I’ve seen the teasers for “Little Shop of Horrors,” and I saw a bunch of mutilated baby dolls. What the hell is up with those?
Since I’m collaborating with Footurama in Jakarta, I’m trying to re-contextualize the concept and how it resonates in Indonesia. So I’m going to set up a store within a store. There’s going to be a performance as well. And it’s about cannibalism. That’s why the dinner performance is called ‘makan mayit,’ or ‘fresh flesh feast.’
Cannibalism?
I was talking to a journalist friend of mine who had interviewed Sumanto. Apparently, he was already released from jail. That intrigued me. I’ve used baby dolls as part of my performance in the past, and it seems relevant to use them again this time. I’m writing a fictional story about a shop that sells baby meat to an orphanage.
This is my way of questioning cannibalism and whether it’s a trait that’s somewhere in every human. When we were babies breastfeeding, we essentially drank blood. In this modern era, when babies are born, their umbilical cords can be stored in blood banks and consumed by those who are sick and in-need.
Why did you choose such a demented topic?
I just want to test people who sign up for a performance art dinner. I want t know what they will talk about.
So it’s all a social experiment?
Yes.
