Rasuki Leading a Life in Pursuit of Cirebon Masks

KOMPAS/ABDULLAH FIKRI ASHRI

Rasuki.

Rasuki, 52, has been producing Cirebon-styled masks for decades. During this period, the former mung bean porridge seller spent his life preserving Cirebon masks amid various constraints.

“This is Pak Rasuki, who makes costumes, masks and drums (for the mask dance),” Gegesik District Head Indra Fitriani said while introducing a man in a batik shirt and a headband to Tourism and Creative Economy Minister Sandiaga Uno. That Thursday afternoon (9/9/2011), Sandiaga had visited Rasuki’s booth at Gegesik Kulon Village Hall.

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Wearing a black mask over his mouth, Rasuki made no comment. His masks that depicted panji (newborn stage), samba (childhood), rumyang (adolescence), tumenggung (adult) and klana (ambition) seemed to speak volumes for his craftsmanship.

“This is extreme greed,” said Sandiaga, pointing at a red klana mask with wide staring eyes. Rasuki smiled, giving a nod of agreement.

“The local wisdom of (Cirebon) masks represents the stages of life, from the innocent newborn like the white panji to the klana stage of utmost greed,” explained Sandiaga, who declared Gegesik Kulon in Cirebon, West Java, one of the 50 villages of the Indonesian Tourist Village Award 2021.

The significance of Cirebon masks is inseparable from the role played by mask craftsmen like Rasuki. The masks he has created since the early 1990s have decorated the walls of many houses, accompanied Cirebon mask dancers and been used as learning aid in a number of schools and universities at home and abroad.

Originally, Rasuki peddled mung bean porridge in Kalianyar village, Panguragan district. His daily income was between Rp10,000 and Rp15,000. “This was [my earning] only when no buyers were in debt,” recalled the father of two.

One day, he noticed a tourist buying Cirebon masks produced by his uncle Sadriya. Sadriya was a famous mask craftsman who had exhibited his work abroad. His family was also familiar with the artistry of Cirebon masks. Rasuki’s grandfather, Kadnawi, was a mask dance instructor while his mother, Sekar, was a mask dancer.

KOMPAS/ABDULLAH FIKRI ASHRI

Rasuki has been making masks for the past 30 years.

Rasuki then asked to become Sadriya’s apprentice. Instead of making masks, Sadriya told him to carve mask models for key rings. As an apprentice in training, he obeyed his teacher. He was admonished many times for wasting wood with unsatisfactory results.

After he grew skilled in carving mask key rings, Rasuki tried his hand at making big masks. He even used a knife and chisel belonging to Sadriya. Only when he had finished did he present his masks to his master. “Pak Sadriya wasn’t angry. He accepted my carvings. I was named his assistant,” he said.

“Rasuki has 60 percent command of the skills [needed],” Sadriya said at the time.

Rasuki’s name was also added to Sadriya’s business card: Purwasari Studio, Sadriya/Rasuki, Occupation: Artisans of carved masks, etc., Direct Sales Address: Kalilayar 35 Arjawinangun Cirebon, West Java 45163 (Kompas, 3/11/1995).

They sold their for around Rp 75,000 each, far below today’as price of Rp 300,000 per mask.

Rasuki later took up making mask full time and gave up peddling porridge. In a month, the pair was capable of securing 60-100 orders for masks and wayang golek (wooden wayang puppets). They sold their for around Rp 75,000 each, far below today’as price of Rp 300,000 per mask.

Rasuki also took part in exhibitions alongside Sadriya in various cities, including at the Bentara Budaya Jakarta cultural space in 1995. “I never forgot the exhibition there. Stages were allotted to the craftspeople. When exhibitions are held today, only the work is shown,” he said.

In the end, the network between the craftspeople or between them and consumers were not developed. Artists like Rasuki have found it hard to thrive. “Occasionally, some of my masks disappeared or were damaged after they were loaned to exhibits displays,” he said matter-of-factly.

Preserver of masks

His career has not progressed smoothly, either. His uncle’s passing several years ago disturbed him, not to mention his decreasing mask sales. Today, he produces only 15 masks at most, and does not sell them all. The Covid-19 pandemic only worsens the condition.

Apart from a lack of access marketing, the development of Cirebon masks was also constrained by a shortage of raw material. Wood from the kedondong jaran, a species of plum that the craftspeople used are becoming hard difficult to find. He cannot ensure he has enough supply of the wood for the year or two.

While he could replace the material with other types of wood, the quality of the resulting product would definitely decline. “This wood (kedondong jaran), though still young, can last for more than a decade. It is resistant to termites. I also fear that consumers will be disappointed,” he said.

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Undeterred by the various impediments, he persists and is determined to rely on Cirebon masks as his livelihood. “There used to be many craftspeople. Today, I work on my own in Gegesik. Maybe my heart is already there (in Cirebon masks),” Rasuki revealed.

Besides providing repair and maintenance services for drums, he also teaches those who wish to learn the art of making carved masks, for free.

Some 15 years ago, he settled in Krapyak hamlet, Gegesik Kidul, where the Cipta Wening Studio is located. Besides providing repair and maintenance services for drums, he also teaches those who wish to learn the art of making carved masks, for free.

“I’ve invited people here to learn for free. But none of them persevered. They are persistent only in government-sponsored training programs because of the allowances,” he said, shaking his head. The participants of these training programs, he added, were also mostly engrossed in their gadgets.

“Before, I firmly resolve to [learn how to] make masks. It was up to the teacher how much I would earn. This was even though a farm worker earned more than a craftsman did. But that was in the past. Now, it’s money that is the first consideration,” said the elementary school graduate.

Rasuki taught his second child, Raskina, 25, to make carved masks. The senior high school graduate also developed his skills in making drums. His first child, Rasuki, did not follow in his father’s footsteps in becoming a mask maker and instead tried his luck in Malaysia.

KOMPAS/ABDULLAH FIKRI ASHRI

Rasuki.

Kusdono, 39, a glass painter in Gegesik, calls Rasuki the only preserver of masks in Gegesik. “He is also a versatile artist, as he is able to make wayang kulit (leather wayang puppets) and drums. But if possible, there should be regeneration,” said the son of the late Rastika, a glass painting maestro.

The loyalty of craftsmen such as Rasuki to their art may be growing increasingly scarce in the country. More than being merely skilled at creating their work, their desire to learn whatever is appropriate should become an inspiration.

Rasuki

Born: Cirebon, 17 Aug. 1969

Wife: Ramini

Children:

- Kusnia

- Raskina

Education: SDN Kalianyar state primary school

This article was translated by Aris Prawira).