Two badek makara hilts. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein;

Spirit of Wood

Ceiling panel from a mosque pulpit (see page 25);

This book was inspired by the knowledge of
the late master carver, Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein,
and his dream of reviving the art of
Malay woodcarving.

Detail of a panel (AR019g) from the mosque pulpit at Surau Langgar (see pages 64—6);

Spirit of Wood
The Art of Malay Woodcarving

Works by master carvers from
Kelantan, Terengganu and Pattani

Farish A. Noor and Eddin Khoo
photographs by David Lok

PERIPLUS

This book would not have been possible without the generous support of the following:

YTM Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah
YBg Tan Sri Wan Azmi Hamzah
Encik Hijjas Kasturi
HE Ambassador Kiyohiko Arafune
KAF Discounts Berhad
Kumpulan Guthrie Berhad
The General Boumeester Trust
The Ministry of Culture, Arts & Tourism, Malaysia

Published by Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd

Copyright © 2003 Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd Text and photographs © 2003 Kandis Resource Centre Sdn Bhd

ISBN: 978-1-4629-0677-2 (ebook)

Printed in Singapore

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, storied in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher.

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Ceremonial keris hilt and sheath (KW106) carved by Nik Rashiddin shortly before his death in 2002.

Foreword

Like most Kelantanese of my generation, I grew up with an intimate understanding of the arts and traditions that are unique to the east coast states of Peninsular Malaysia. Batik printing, songket (gold thread) weaving and wood-carving were not regarded as handicrafts or mere decorative items during our childhood but were an integral part of our daily lives. These traditional arts were imbued with the essence of our cultural identity. Every family possessed a keris, for instance, not as a weapon but as a symbol of its ancestry, to be passed down to future generations. For many families on the east coast states of Kelantan and Terengganu, this ancestry is believed to have its roots in Langkasuka, the legendary kingdom that purportedly flourished in Southeast Asia from the second to the sixteenth centuries.

It is deeply heartening to know that there are young men and women from Kelantan and Terengganu who share my pride in our cultural traditions, and that the impetus towards modernization which has swept through Malaysia since Independence in 1957 has not erased our unique cultural identity. Young artists such as Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein (who tragically died after a short illness in 2002) and Norhaiza Noordin hold the key to the future as they are striving not just to perpetuate their art but also to preserve the traditions that gave birth to the art in the first place.

This book is the first step in what I see as a movement to restore the prestige of traditional east coast Malay arts. It is not only important as a record of an ancient art form that has survived through the centuries, but as a platform for key ideas about traditional east coast Malay culture and history. Even to the untrained eye, it will be evident that the artefacts featured in this book were produced not by craftsmen but by artists who were expressing not just their artistic vision but also the cultural vision of a highly developed civilization. While I am certain that Spirit of Wood will revive interest in traditional Malay arts and crafts, it is my hope that it will also serve as a springboard for further scholarship in the various traditional art forms that recall similar origins in Langkasuka.

YTM TENGKU RAZALEIGH HAMZAH

A late 19th-century quail trap (FL046);

Contents

Foreword 5
YTM Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah

A Craftsman Speaks 9
A conversation with master carver Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein,
as recorded by Eddin Khoo

The Cult of Wood 15
Farish A. Noor

References and Works 55
Inspiration and artefacts of Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein and Norhaiza Noordin

Interpreting Malay Woodcarving 139
Farish A. Noor

The Kingdom of Langkasuka 153
Eddin Khoo

Postscript and Acknowledgments 162
Waveney Jenkins

Endnotes 164

Glossary of Malay Terms 167

Bibliography 172

KERIS TAJONG (KW076)

Pattani, mid-19th c., kemuning wood, 9.5 x 13.5 x 4 cm

The keris tajong is regarded as a warrior's keris (keris pahlawan). Aggression is conveyed by the dark wood and in the fierce expression of the face carved on the hilt. The legs and arms found on early hilts are no longer present in this example as a result of Islamic influence, though Langkasukan motifs on the body spiral and in the detailed carving are still visible (see detail, page 10). The crosspiece (sampir) of the sheath is flared, a shape that is said to derive from the fishing vessels of the same name in Pattani. The third eye of Siva is lightly engraved along the lower edge of the crosspiece.

A Craftsman Speaks

A conversation with master carver Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein,*
as recorded by Eddin Khoo

History is all-important. A people with no history are a people with no future. We have to know our past, we have to delve deeper into it, augment our knowledge, inform others... for it is a lack of history that makes a people lose their direction in life. At present we live, day after day, without a sense of history, and because of this we are in a constant state of flux, not knowing where we are destined, at what station we will arrive. But with a sense of history, and a pride in our past, we will have a deeper love of life, a love for our lineage—what more our origins—and we will not want anyone to intrude upon our history. We will allow people to partake of it but only with a sense of respect, pride and the intention to further enrich their knowledge and understanding of our past.

It is a known fact that history is an accurate gauge of a people's culture. Altering and manipulating facts is a deception and will result in us devouring ourselves. Instead, we must try to discover the origins of our history and it must be perceived in all its authenticity, not only those aspects which we believe are proper and relevant. Even what is not is still history, for history undergoes its own process and this must be respected. We have to accept our past in all its aspects—the good, the bad, the ignorant, the religious—because that is the course of nature.

Such an understanding is important; it is very important to my own life. When history is sound, religion is sound. If religion is sound but history is weak, we are finished. We are cast into a deep, dark abyss. History is what forges us. Our ancestors spoke our history and passed it down through word of mouth—through their stories, the mouths of their storytellers-and enriched our past. Now it is we who have to further enrich what we already have, for a people who preserve their history command respect. However, we have to accept that with everything that is good and positive, there is also the bad and the negative. With everything that is worthy, there is also the unworthy. Not everything in our experience can be good. Even a little good is reason for pride. Without the bad, the negative, there cannot be the good and the positive. If all is good in our experience and we are then forced to encounter even a little that is bad, we will surely lose all sense of balance and be destroyed.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG (KW076)
Pattani, mid-19th c., kemuning wood, 9.5 x 13.5 x 4 cm

Pucuk paku (fern shoots) form the eyelashes on this hilt. Sungo tanjung form the hair and beard, along with leaves of the more evolved style of daun Melayu (lit. Malay leaf). Bronze is inlaid to highlight the eye, tusks and cheek.

A keris tajong hilt with Langkasukan motifs. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

It is history that shapes our self; and when we share that self we, in turn, enrich history. History opens us to all things. It gives us self-discipline and a sense of character, and these keep us from being cast into an abyss. Thus history and the self are bound and each self contributes to the enrichment of history. It is history that shapes the individuality and character of a person, making him strong, confident and rooted. We must establish an intimacy with the past and make history synonymous with our soul. For if we want to embark on any experience but cast history aside, we will be embarking on the path of error. And that is why we must return to Langkasuka.

There is much dispute about Langkasuka. Did it exist? Where was it located? Some say in Kedah, others claim the Kelantan—Pattani region. For me, these disputes do not strike at the truth. We cannot think of Langkasuka in terms of borders and boundaries. These are but creations of modern man. That kingdom was vast and it had no borders. At the time of Langkasuka there was no Kedah, Kelantan or Pattani because they were all one country, one earth. What is important is the cultural inheritance, for it is this which carries the spirit, its heritage and tradition; and this inheritance is not land, not wind, air, fire but the inheritance of a people who created a distinct cuisine, dress and language. And it is this spirit that we craftsmen imbibe when we create a work. We must think of Langkasuka as the current of a spirit, a landscape. When we are able to do this, then I believe we have to place it within this, the Kelantan—Pattani region, because it is here, it did exist, it had its port.

The intellectual understanding of historians differs from the sensibility and experience of the craftsman. The historians' debate is based on writing and narration, whereas the craftsman experiences with each groove in the wood, in the chisel, the crevice in the stone, the durability of gold, minerals... in the sensibility. For the craftsman, the ingredients must be strong; his touch, reaction. All that we craftsmen encounter, we imbibe. People speak at great length about skill and learning. But how far do we truly understand the meaning of skill and learning? Many are skilled but they have no learning. What is more valuable is learning, rather than skill.

Historians like proof of something, but the craftsman—more so the master craftsman—experiences potently, because with each strike of the chisel, with every notch in the wood there is a being, an ancestor, that guides and instructs using the mata hati, the inner eye. That being is the guru asal. It is a kind of gift, an ingenuity of the spirit that is realized in the craftsman at all times. The nature of it may change but without it we will lose the worth of our work. The guru asal guides generation after generation. And we abide by it, then offer a prayer. The guru asal forges the confluence between the craftsman and his ancestry. When the craftsman begins his work, he must invoke it. That is why when the craftsman completes a work, he falls ill. By ill, I mean he lacks food for his soul for a while. When the soul is again nourished, he embarks on a new work and is revived. This, of course, differs according to the age and maturity of the craftsman. The guru asal guides all. And who bequeathed this? It is a civilization that bequeathed it. In the past the people—the craftsman, the shadow puppeteer, the storyteller—made a pledge to their ancestors, a promise to nature. If we do not abide by tradition when we begin work, we feel we have transgressed this promise, committed a wrong. The craftsman perceives this bond with his heritage. We always feel that something is guiding us, instructing us. The creative experience of the craftsman convinces us that what we create does not emerge from our individual creative resources alone. It emanates from the legacy, the spirit, the soul of the old. This is what really creates and serves as the source, the root, the origin. It remains as a guardian to the spirit of this civilization through the generations.

Asia and the Malay Peninsula showing the location of present-day Kelantan, Terengganu and Pattani.

Details are drawn on to the hilt after it has been roughly blocked with an adze (cetar).

An essential part of the carving process is constant evaluation of the piece being worked on. Many hours, even days, are spent studying and assessing the form and working out the evolution of the design. Nik Rashiddin, who always carved with his left hand, is holding a carving knife (pisau wall) used to etch out the detail.

The late Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein carving a hilt for a keris tajong.

This bond is essential. Every creation of the craftsman must have a point of reference. When we want to create a piece of work, we must first perceive its history and from its history, its shape, style, design. Only then can we arrive at a stage of making. The craftsman imbibes the spirit of his civilization from an artefact, from its surface since each artefact is invested with a spirit that endures. We are able to absorb it because the original makers created and invested it with a sensibility, the effects of which can still be felt. The original makers had a real sense of purpose, one that arose from their veneration and apprehension of their civilization.

This is what we need to talk about. The dimensions, proportions, perceptions are difficult to appreciate today because people have become 'plastic'. We have become a breed that simply cannot embrace such depth. There are no people who are distinct and unique who do not boast the support of a civilization. If you are severed from your civilization, you will certainly meet with error. A civilization is a constant reference, a marker, a presence. It is something the craftsman experiences all the time. Whether he is aware of it or not, he has an unwritten reference to this civilization.

The work of a craftsmen, if it is not anchored in a civilization, becomes mere trend. We have to return to the past to demonstrate what we possess, what has been determined faithfully by a preceding civilization that now waits to be clarified, explained in terms of its genealogy, lineage, ancestry. And this ancestry is clear. It possesses feet and hands and touch. It exists in the material, in wood, in cloth and in gold. I feel, and the craftsman feels, and this feeling is potent. Even if we do not want to experience these feelings, they will nevertheless descend; the blood ties of old... not just a mere generation or two but extending five, six generations.

Craftsmen today still have faith in the guru asal and we still possess the artefacts of our civilization. These artefacts need not necessarily be a structure, such as Borobudur or Angkor Wat. They can be a piece of broken wood, a shard of glass, but they still have a story. It is in this that we must seek deeper, keeping the faith, for we must realize that art and all creation does not come about through an individual's creative resources alone. A work of art is a legacy bequeathed by a civilization that is faithful to its particular way of life, its religion. That which is a result of individual creativity does not endure. It is the sensibility and knowledge that is supported by religion and a civilization that lasts. That is why we have to return to Langkasuka.

I have long thought about it and believe that we cannot use any other term. The craftsman believes such a civilization exists. The intellectual studies notes; we have to study the earth, its origins. As a craftsman, I am convinced from the point of view of craftsmanship. The existence of this civilisation is obvious in the design, form, motif. The work of our predecessors was all wrought with the soul, with the mata hati, with a sensibility and not mere feeling—they used thought, not their passion. If you use only passion you will not succeed in conveying the message. Certainly, the process of creation is clear in the decoration, embellishment, style and symbol of their craft. Most importantly, you perceive a current from this civilization. It does not speak of wealth or riches but tells of the experience of a people past who were faithful to their way of life, who were unwilling to go against the ways of their civilization. Each work possesses its own measure, skill, symbol, identity—an identity that emerges from the earth. It does not come from the sky or the people, but from the earth.

PANEL (AR002A)
Masjid Aur Menatjung, Pattani, pre-18th c., medang hitam wood, 35.5 x 20.3 x 1 cm

A fragment of a panel from above a wall aperture, executed in tebuk tembus berukir, roughly translated as the fully pierced and carved technique. Discarded from a very early mosque in Pattani, it demonstrates the qualities found in early Langkasukan design which embodied restrained symmetry and balance and a fluid and natural line. The Langkasukan motifs, symbolic of early Hindu iconography, are joined by a complex interplay of stems. Medang hitam wood is considered to have spiritual qualities, and as such is suitable also for making religious artefacts, such as book rests (rehal) for the Koran (see page 107).

If you understand and appreciate matters of embellishment, decoration, design and style, you will perceive the closeness of these people to nature. In nature, they do not live in wealth, with a sense of T, 'my race'... no... they are close to nature, unwilling to overturn a log of wood, disturb a shrub. They are familiar with nature and understand that everything is shared between people and plants and that they are compelled to expressing this closeness. People who understand what influences their thoughts and shapes their character understand that nature feeds the soul. It is a realization that comes from a spirit that is rooted in a civilization. This cannot be experienced in an urban setting. If I want to speak on the history of the keris, I cannot do it at the KLCC [Kuala Lumpur City Centre]; I need to be by the banks of the Kelantan and Pattani rivers, talk in places where the soul and spirit of my heritage exist.

A sensibility, an experience is not something I can talk of easily. I can sit here and speak of it only because I want to share the experience, the experience of the smell of wood, its feel, its sharpness, the texture of the grindstone. If we can truly imbibe and experience this we may become, at least for a while, stone, wood... we may enter. That is why we cannot leave history behind because history is a reference for all these experiences. You cannot discover this in a library or an institution of higher learning. You have to meet the craftsman....

Detail of the tail of a ceremonial bird (see pages 114-15), showing the symmetrical design of flowers and leaves of the keraknasi plant (lit. scrapings from the rice pot which resemble the way in which the leaves of this plant curl). While the motifs on each side of the tail share a common shape, the details in each vary, testimony to the woodcarver's attention to detail and to his artistry.

Footnote

* Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein, master carver and charismatic savant of Malay woodcarving philosophy, was convinced that the motifs and designs of the carvings of northeastern Peninsular Malaysia and Pattani were the product of specific historic circumstance. The unique composition of these motifs, their coherent sense of identity and extraordinary restraint and refinement all spoke to him of a single source of great vitality and influence. This source, he believed, was the ancient kingdom of Langkasuka (see pages 153—60). In the artistry of Malay woodcarving from this region, he saw a living link to the heritage of Langkasuka. In an interview with Eddin Khoo, shortly before his death in August 2002, Nik Rashiddin talks about his beliefs.

The Cult of Wood

Malay civilization has produced countless artefacts and works of art that are now part of the common inheritance of humanity. For centuries, the craftsmen and artists of the Malay world have created not only works of art of unsurpassed beauty and aesthetic value, but have also developed an aesthetic canon that is uniquely theirs. The world of Malay art and culture is therefore one that has to be understood through a lexicon of its own. Understanding the principles of Malay art requires knowledge of a specific semiotics, linguistics and philology that help us decode the hermeneutics of Malay art and culture.¹

That such a hermeneutic approach is required in order to fully comprehend the depth of meaning found in Malay art is hardly surprising given that most developed civilizations have evolved a complex matrix of symbols, ideas, beliefs and values that have become ingrained in the rubric of societal relations commonly referred to as 'culture'. Malay art, which has evolved since the pre-Islamic period and which has absorbed elements, forms, ideas and values from a number of civilizational and cultural sources, ranging from paganism, animism, the Hindu—Buddhist era, the philosophy and culture of Islam, as well as influences from Europe, China and India, is itself no stranger to cultural innovation and development.

Despite the unending process of cross-cultural borrowing and interpenetration, Malay art still retains elements and features that are exclusive and unique to itself. Scholars such as H. Ling Roth (1910) have remarked on the particular symptoms and traces of Malay art which are not found elsewhere. This specificity is rooted in an internal logic that is confined to the Malay universe of meanings and values, and finds its expression time and again in Malay artistic work. Continuity is evident in the evolution of Malay art, and this testifies to the presence of a local genius at work.

The local genius of the Malay artist has manifested itself in a number of forms and mediums. The Malay world is known for its achievements in several artistic fields, including silver working, goldsmithing, weaving and embroidery, steel and weaponry, architecture and last, though not least, woodwork and woodcarving. All of these artistic developments occurred in the context of a society that evolved close to nature and lived in harmony with it. The development of Malay art, particularly after the coming of Islam, was very much focused on the relationship between human beings and the natural world around them. With the consolidation of Islam, there emerged the growing belief that through a deeper comprehension of the workings of nature, human beings could have a better understanding of themselves, their place in the universe and their station vis-a-vis their creator. Malay-Muslim art therefore relied heavily on natural materials and motifs and symbols that were derived from the flora and fauna around artisans. Rejecting the humanism and animism of the earlier pagan age, Malay-Muslim artists from the fourteenth century onwards began to focus their attention beyond the human form to the external world of nature.

SESIKU (BRACKET) (AR004)
Kelantan, 1830, cengal wood, 98.8 x 74.4 x 3.85 cm

Decorative brackets (sesiku) are an integral architectural element used to strengthen beams and rafters in large buildings such as palaces and mosques. This bracket was removed from the Istana Balai Besar in Kota Bharu in 1921 during renovations for Sultan Ismail's coronation. The style of carving resembles that on the gravestone of the consort of Raja Long Yunus, Che Ku Tuan Nawi, in Kota Bharu (see pages 60-1). The outline of the bracket is formed by Langkasukan motifs. Though the outlines of such brackets often remain constant, internal details may vary. The original red lime wash colouring on this bracket was uncovered below many layers of gloss paint.

The relationship between the human being and the other living elements of creation served as the new metaphor for humankind's existential condition and people's desire to acknowledge the 'other' in their lives. One of the first living entities to be incorporated into this existentialist drama was the tree. In this respect, the tree was a crucial element that stood between human beings and the natural world, and it served as the bridge that linked these two spheres.

Between Nature and Civilization: The Tree as a Liminal Entity

For the pagan Malays of the ancient past, the tree was literally the core of their universe. They believed that at the centre of the world was a great ocean, and in the middle of this ocean grew a gigantic tree called Pauh Jangi—the original, primordial tree of life that had stood since the beginning of creation. At the root of this enormous tree was a cavern called Pusat Tasek (Navel of the Great Lake). In this cavern lived a gigantic crab that emerged once a day. The movement of this gigantic creature caused the ebb and flow of the tides, the shifting of the winds and other atmospheric changes (Skeat, 1900). But it was the great tree Pauh Jangi that kept this pagan cosmos together, serving as the gravitational centre to this mobile and erratic universe.

Although such beliefs gradually lost their grip on the Malay mind-set, the respect and reverence for trees endured for much longer. With the coming of other religious systems, the Malay universe underwent several radical changes and revisions. The tree was gradually displaced and relocated to the margins of the Malay world, but it remained a crucial element in the cosmology of the Malay people. With the coming of Hinduism, Buddhism and, finally, Islam, the Malays began to view the world differently. But the tree remained fixed in their perennial mind-set.

The tree belonged to nature, and by extension, to the rest of creation. It cannot be understood in isolation, as it has always been part of a greater, harmonious whole that extended beyond its immediate form. The Malays viewed the tree as one of the fundamental symbols of life, creation and nature, knowing that it was one of the axial points in the cosmic drama that was played out before them. Trees were therefore an element of nature that played a crucial role in the development of Malay society as well as its aesthetics, philosophy and pseudo-sciences. But it also had to be well understood before it could be brought into use. This, however, was not such an easy or straightforward process, for the tree was not like any other element of nature that could be easily domesticated and utilized at whim. To the mind of the traditional Malay, the tree was also a liminal entity that stood in between two worlds—that of nature and that of human civilization.

The scholar Clifford Geertz (1993) once remarked that the moral and epistemological universe of the peoples of the Malay archipelago was divided into two mutually exclusive realms. On the one hand, there was the outer world of nature and natural forces, the environment of liar (wild) and kasar (rough). Conversely, there was the batin (inner) world of civilized human beings, the realm of halus (refined) and sopan (cultured). The division between the world of raen and the natural world without was drawn along the lines of this frontier between agonistic, primal nature and the civilized,² the wild and the cultivated, the amoral and the ethical.

The Malays understood that their civilization was an artificial social construct that had to be protected and reproduced. Order in society was maintained through a complex network of social values and norms, and kept in check by the hierarchical mode of government that was typical of feudal communities. Yet the fabric of this fragile social drama could be torn asunder should the forces of nature be allowed to intervene in the affairs of men. The introduction, cultivation and reproduction of social, political, moral and aesthetic order was therefore of primary importance in the setting of traditional Malay settlements. One of the ways this sense of order was maintained was via the incessant struggle of keeping the forces of nature at bay. For the Malays of the archipelago, the forests that encircled their riverine and coastal settlements were actually barriers to their movement and freedom. While the sea was the open plain where they roamed and ruled, the forest was the insurmountable obstacle that kept the Malays perpetually corralled by the forces of nature. This geographical factor explains why the Malays viewed the forest in the way that they did.

The forest that surrounded the Malay world was an unknown, mysterious and at times impenetrable space. In its dense, humid and dark undergrowth, the forces of nature ran riot. Demons and ghosts lurked within the forest, inhabiting the trees and swamps, forever on the lookout for wandering human beings who had strayed too far from the protective confines of their homes and villages. For the people of the archipelago, the forest was, at best, a place where one's character could be put to the test, and, at worst, an infernal green hell where one ultimately became the meal of predators and foul spirits. Southeast Asia abounds with tales of heroes who had to undergo their trials in the middle of the foreboding forest.³

What was worse, the natural environment of the forest also tended to encroach onto the world of men and their civilization at every given opportunity. Should the borders of civilized Malay society recede, the creeping tendrils of the natural forest would immediately advance to fill the void. The forest was a stark contrast to the orderly world of the Malays, which was governed by norms and protocols of religion and civilized society, and the Malays could not help but wish to keep these natural forces at bay. George Maxwell (1907) described the Malay view of the forest thus: 'The forest envelopes their homes and their lives; but the more they explore it the more they know that it is a world apart. That it is so near and extends so far adds to its majesty and terror.'

An early 20th-century jungle scene in central Malaya taken by the Sumatran-based photographer C.J. Kleingrothe. It illustrates the lush natural environment in which the Malays of the 18th and 19th centuries lived. Photograph reproduced by permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library.

The Malays knew that whenever they entered the forests they were trespassing into another realm which they were not the masters of. Therefore, they prepared themselves with all manner of charms and esoteric knowledge (ilmu) that would be used to keep the hidden forces of the forests at bay. When they ventured into the jungle in search of wood or provisions, they were careful to begin their expedition by first hailing the spirits of the forests. They would read out certain time-tested charms such as the one below. Such charms or mantras were designed to ensure that no harm would come to the individual or his family and community as a result of this act of transgression into the unknown. Yet, between the known world of men and the unknown world of the jungle, there stood one common element that was shared between the two: the tree.

It was, in fact, the tree, one of the most vital elements in the natural environment, that kept the forces of nature in check. The tree was magical, but far from sinister. For it was the tree that provided the Malays with the defences and fortifications that protected their settlements and towns. The walls and palisades that were made from the trunks of trees and from bamboo were the barriers that kept out the numerous threats from the world of men and nature. Both invading armies and wild beasts (not to mention ghosts and forest spirits) were thus kept at bay.

Assalamualaikum, | Assalamualaikum,
Aku datang ini bersahabat sahaja, | I have come in peace, and friendship,
Sahaja nak mencari hat kebidupan, | Come to seek my livelihood,
Janganlah engkau mengharu-hara aku, | (O ye spirits) please do not harm me,
Dan anak isteri aku, | Or my family,
Dan rumah tangga aku, | Or my home,
Dan segala kampung halaman aku, | Or my village and community,
Aku yang nak tumpang sababat ini, | For 1 count on your good will,
Mintalah selamat pulang balik. | And may you let me return safely.

The tree was also the vital source that provided so much material for the daily maintenance of civilized Malay life. Wood was the natural element that kept Malay society together, literally. It provided them with houses, and within those houses, walls. (Thus the tree not only kept out the forces of nature, it also served to ensure that the existing social relations within this compartmentalized society could be maintained as well.) Trees provided the Malays with tools to work with, to farm with, to write with, to eat with and to fight with. It was, in short, the singular natural element upon which all of Malay civilization depended. Civilization, as the Malays knew it then, was almost impossible without this natural element. However, the Malays never forgot the fact that the tree also came from that chaotic and uncontrollable world of natural forces. Its presence in the midst of human society signified the penetration of nature into the world of men. As such, its status and role in the context of Malay civilization was always an ambiguous one.

The tree was the boundary marker that denoted the distinction between the kasar and the halus, the jungle and the settlement, the chaos without and the order of things within. It was therefore accorded the respect and awe that was due to it. And even when it was brought within the purview of human civilization as a resource and tool, it maintained its aura of mystery as something that was originally beyond the pale of humanity. Like that other vital natural element, fire, the tree was something that was necessary for human survival, but it needed to be kept under control. Thus the tree became, and remains, a curious totem or fetish of some unknown and mysterious force of nature. The belief in the semangat, or vital force', of nature and of trees, in particular, ensured that the Malays' attitude towards trees and wood was a carefully regulated and circumscribed one. The tree was so highly esteemed because it provided the Malays with one of the most indispensable elements used to build the Malay world: wood. Malay kingdoms, as we have seen, were dependent on wood in every respect. Thus, the possession and utilization of wood, and good wood, in particular, became part of the Malays' expression of largesse, power and civilization.

In the use of trees for wood and woodcarving, however, the Malays were particularly careful not to upset the natural equilibrium that maintained the balance and harmony between the world of men and nature. Malay woodcarving thus evolved a complex and advanced code and hermeneutics of its own, and eventually reached the status of a fine art that ranked as high as any philosophical system that had been developed by the Malay mind.

Cengal (Neobalanocarpus heimii), a tree of the deep forest, was domesticated in the 19th century and planted in the compounds of wealthy families to provide a ready source of timber. A hard, durable wood, resistant to insect attack, it is used for almost all structural elements in a building, but is also suitable for decorative panelling.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG (KW109)

Kelantan, late 20th c., kenaung wood, 16.5 x 15.25 x 5 cm

The sharply uptilted nose, the eye ornamentation and the strong lines of the jaw and crown combine to convey an aggressive quality in this highly ornamented hilt. The cup supporting the base of the hilt, called a pendokok, is made of silver, ornamented with pucuk rebung (bamboo shoot) and telurikan (fish egg) motifs. Carved by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

The Spirit of Wood in Malay Cosmology

For the Malays, trees and wood have never been mere commodities. Throughout the centuries, the Malays have developed a great respect for trees in general, and there are many recurrent motifs and symbols still in circulation in the Malay world that testify to the importance of trees to the Malay mind-set. Prior to beginning any performance of shadow puppet theatre (Wayang Kulit), the audience is presented with the static image of the great tree of life itself, the pohon budi, which represents the primordial tree that has stood from the beginning of time and whose branches and roots reach out into the infinite. To the left and right of the tree stand the opposing ranks of characters, good and bad. The drama that follows takes place within a moral and epistemological universe that is understood by the Malay mind-set: one where the forces of good and evil are constantly in conflict with one another, yet bound in a cosmic equilibrium where nature finally reigns supreme. The image of the great tree of life that is seen in carvings, shadow puppets, weavings and the like all indicate the extent to which the cult of trees had become deep-rooted in the Malay world.

On the exoteric level of life in the profane world, wood was an invaluable material that the Malays could not do without. The success or failure of their kingdoms depended on it, and the Malay world was necessarily one that was integrated with the rest of nature. But this reliance on wood as an enabling, empowering and life-sustaining resource was not merely a relationship that was acted out on a profane and material level. The cosmology of the Malays has always been one that was predicated on the division between the seen and the unseen, the material and the metaphysical, zahir and batin. This duality is reflected in the Malays' understanding of everything that came into the orbit of the Malay universe, which included the natural world as well. As Malay civilization developed, so did its understanding and appreciation of wood itself. By and by, Malay civilization evolved what can be termed a 'cult of wood', which invested the material with a plethora of hidden, esoteric meanings and values. One of the most important concepts in this unseen universe was the notion of semangat kayu. Today, there are several obstacles hindering our understanding of this complicated term. Foremost, we live in a modern age where rationality and positivism hold sway and where all things metaphysical are deemed as mythical, fantastic, preposterous or, at best, incomprehensible. How, then, can we understand the world of the Malay woodcarver, for whom the semangat of kayu was a perfectly tangible, sensible and comprehensible phenomenon?

The hilt of a keris tajong employing Langkasukan motifs on the body. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

The tree of life (pohon budi), a leaf-or tree-shaped puppet carved from skin or leather which opens and closes all performances of the shadow puppet play (Wayang Kulit). It is sometimes also utilized during a performance as a stage property to represent a tree, a forest or a mountain. From the collection of master puppeteer Pak Dollah of Kelantan. Photograph by William Ha raid-Wong.

JEBAK PUYUH (QUAIL TRAP) (FL010)

Restored in Kelantan, late 20th c., angsana wood, bamboo floor, ivory door, ribu-ribu ribs, kapas binding, 33.4 x 30.8 x 23. 1 cm

Restored by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein, this old quail trap features a new front of angsana wood and ivory. Bunga tanjung motifs decorate the panels flanking the door. Leaves of the saga kenering, a type of creeping plant with black-spotted red beans, are used to form the gunungan. Two mythological sea monsters (makara) with ruby eyes are carved on the stepping board which triggers the net trap when a bird alights on it. The original basketwork cage (not visible) is very finely woven. (See also pages 100-3.)

The ketam guri motif used on the gunungan of the mosque pulpit on pages 26-7. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

Petals of the bunga teratai (lotus) form the decoration at the foot of the grave of Che Ku Tuan Nawi at Makam di Raja, Langgar, Kota Bharu (see pages 60-1).

The concept of semangat serves as our starting point. Semangat has been (sometimes erroneously) translated as 'spirit', 'life force', 'soul' or 'essence'. None of these translations is entirely correct. An understanding of the concept of semangat first requires an understanding of the cardinal concepts of Malay cosmology itself. Scholars like Skeat (1900), Maxwell (1907), Endicott (1970) and others have attempted to construct a rational typography of concepts and values found in Malay metaphysics. Although there remains much work to be done to fully enumerate and classify the components that make up this manifold universe, we are now better able to speak about the hierarchy of concepts and values that make up the order of knowledge in the Malay metaphysical system at least.

From the Malay point of view, the universe is made up of a myriad of elements and objects that all come from one common source, the Creator itself. Mere existence in the world is already a miracle that testifies to the presence of a Creator and the link between creation and its Creator. Even a speck of dust owes its existence to this point of origin and prime mover of all things. Everything that exists, living or inanimate, bears the mark of the Creator in some way or other. This understanding of the process of creation, and of the link between human beings and the Creator, had existed even in the pre-Islamic era, but with the coming of Islam it was revised and developed further under the rubric of the concept of Tauhid, or the Unity of God.

The most rudimentary trace of this link to the Creator is what Malays refer to as the semangat or the 'vital force' of all things. It is a form of primal energy and vitality, invested in all things that are created as a result of the act of creation itself. It resides in all things that exist, and it disappears only when the object it belongs to is finally reduced to non-existence or non-being. At the most fundamental level, all things possess semangat to some degree or other.

Semangat is, in turn, linked to two other vital forces: nyawa (breath of life) and run (spirit of life). Living things possess the latter two elements while inanimate objects possess at least semangat. Human beings possess semangat, nyawa and ruh, the combination of which bestows man with rational agency, reflective intellect and creativity. It is also this that allows man to think and to realize his station in the universe, and through this knowledge to try to come to a better and more direct understanding of his relationship with creation and the Creator. Other living things may possess semangat and nyawa, but lack the intellectual and emotive capacities of human beings that allow for reflection and moral consideration. In the universe of the Malays, there are numerous lesser evolved spirit entities that may well react and interact with human beings, but without the moral considerations and deliberation of rational agents. At times they appear as naively benevolent, while on other occasions they manifest themselves as amoral malevolent forces bent on mindless destruction and violence. Endicott (1970) has noted that for the Malays, living trees are of particular importance as they often serve as an abode for such spirits, good or bad.

CEILING PANEL OF PULPIT (RT019F)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, 1874, cengal wood, 21.8 x 21.8 x 1.29 cm

This small panel from the ceiling of a mosque pulpit (mimbar) comprises entwined stems carved with Langkasukan motifs. The carving style is the same as that on the tomb of Che Ku Tuan Nawi (pages 60-1). The outline of each corner takes the shape of a lotus bud or stupa.

The living tree is therefore of particular importance to the Malays. In the past, they regarded trees as being hosts for spiritual entities and forces that were capable of interacting with the world of men. Trees were the homes of spirits, and they became the focal point of devotional rituals (puja) which were directed to the spirits contained within them. Malays regarded some trees as being particularly powerful and endowed, and the cult of trees and wood emerged as a result of this deeper understanding and appreciation of the tree as a key element in the configuration of the esoteric and exoteric Malay world. There evolved an adab of trees—a correct way of dealing with them—and Malays learnt how to speak, communicate and relate to trees in a way that was unique to them. Boys, from the time they were young, were taught to recite special prayers (doa) when entering a forest, to ensure that the trees would protect them and that they would not be accosted by any malevolent spirits that might be lurking in the wilderness. Up until today, these beliefs endure and there are still many of those who feel that certain trees such as the kemuning (Murraya paniculata) and the waringin (banyan) host powerful spirit entities that should not be provoked or offended unnecessarily.

GUNUNGAN OF PULPIT (RT019A)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, 1874, angsana and cengal woods, 148 x 69 x 20 cm

Depictions of a gunungan are often placed over mosque pulpits. Carved following the natural curve of the wood, stems of the ketam guri are here treated like ropes woven around flowers of the same plant. An inscription from the Koran forms part of the notched and curving lintel, reflecting the essence of Malay design, where alternating convex and concave curves represent the unity and balance of life. This fine carving (see also pages 64-5) is on loan to the Kandis Resource Centre from Surau Langgar, Kota Bharu.

KORAN (RT005)

Kelantan, late 18th-early 19th c.

The opening pages from an early handwritten and illuminated Koran. Gunungan motifs encase the calligraphy on all sides. The corners are decorated with rosettes of daun sesayap, a motif described as a wing-like leaf also known as daun Melayu, and bunga tanjung.

Wood, on the other hand, possesses only semangat. After the death of the tree, the spirit force of the living organism often leaves it for good in search of other hosts. (Only in rare cases does the spirit choose to remain in the wood, in which case it becomes highly prized, revered and, at times, feared for its inherent spiritual power.) Yet the semangat of the wood endures, as it still bears the traces of its Creator and the miraculous event of creation itself. This semangat of wood also happens to be the one element that is shared in common with human beings and, in particular, the wood-carver, who seems to understand the wood he works with. It therefore serves as the crucial bridge that brings together the woodcarver and the wood he prizes.

The semangat of wood is therefore of prime importance to the Malay woodcarver as it is the sole element that is intrinsic to the wood itself. It is a crucial element to both the existence and use of wood. Traditional woodcarvers of the past believed that it is the semangat contained within the wood that determines its beauty, the grain and lustre being directly related to the semangat forces contained within. (The stronger the semangat, the more lustrous, beautiful and flamboyant the grain.) Different types of wood have different types and levels of semangat contained within them.

Both the kemuning (Chinese myrtle, Murraya paniculata) (above) and the nangka (jackfruit, Artocarpus heterophyllus) (below) are considered to have a high spiritual quality (semangat). Wood from the root and lower trunk of the kemuning is highly valued for its coloration and grain, and is used for keris hilts and sheaths. The nangka is light and resonant and is often used for musical instruments.

It is also the semangat of the wood that determines the proper use and utility of the various types of wood. Some with particularly strong semangat contained within them are better suited for nobler tasks, and are thus used to carve keris hilts, ceremonial objects, gates and doors, while lesser woods of lower semangat are kept for everyday use. The Malays' world of wood and woodcarving is therefore circumscribed by what can be called 'the economy of semangat', a complex system made up of the various factors that determine the accumulation, reproduction and loss of semangat of the wood itself.

The semangat or vital force of trees is directly related to their place in the natural order of things. All trees and all types of wood possess semangat. But different trees have different levels of semangat simply because they grow in particular places where semangat forces may be high or low. Like human beings whose semangat depends on the food they eat, the place they live in, the work they do, the semangat of wood is very much linked to external environmental factors as well. The environment has always been a crucial factor in the economy of semangat: The semangat of trees and various woods is directly related to the way in which the trees grow. Some types of environment and climate are thought to be particularly good for trees, and add to the semangat of the wood:

• Certain types of soil are important in determining the level of semangat found in wood. Black soil with some traces of sand was, and still is, thought to be particularly good for certain types of trees, such as the kemuning. Plots of land that were close to the sea and human settlement, with hills or mountains in the background, were also thought to be particularly good areas for harvesting wood harbouring strong semangat properties. This was because the trees were growing in areas where life forces were being generated (from human settlements and human activity) and this, in turn, nourished the semangat in the trees themselves.

• Hills and mountains are also regarded as being particularly good for producing trees imbued with strong semangat. Trees that grew on slopes and at higher altitudes were thought to have stronger semangat than those growing on the flat. In the past, Malay rulers and nobles would often reserve certain plots or areas on hillsides for their private cultivation of certain trees for their own specific ends.

• The sun, which is a source of vital light, heat and energy, is also a major source of semangat. The rays of the sun are thought to strengthen the semangat of a tree. The earliest woodcarvers believed that the best part of the tree was the one that faced the rising sun (that is, the part of the trunk that faced eastwards). The wood on this side of the trunk was thought to be of better quality and have stronger semangat, for the simple reason that it had received more early morning light that was purer and stronger.

Certain types of trees and wood also possess stronger semangat. Woods with strong and pronounced grains (coreng), stripes (jalur), ripples (kerinting) and colours (pela) are said to have stronger semangat properties. Such grains are often found in woods that have a core (teras) in them; indeed, trees with cores in their trunks are regarded to be of particularly strong semangat. It is evident that for the Malay wood-carver, it is the semangat of the wood itself that determines the particular characteristics of each type of wood, and not the other way round.

PINTU GERBANG (ENTRANCE GATE) (AR001)

Kelantan, mid-19th c., cengal wood, brass handles and hinges, 351.5 x 274.5 x 13 cm

A gateway built for a former Prime Minister of Kelantan (see pages 80-1).

The bongor (Lagerstroemia speciosa) (above) and the angsana (Pterocarpus indicus) (below) both have decorative grains which make them highly suitable for keris sheaths. When polished, the bongor has a striped appearance, described as jalur. In contrast, the angsana, a wayside flowering tree, possesses a subtle grain which when polished gives a rippled effect, known as kerinting, much like watered silk.

Types of Wood Used in Malay Woodcarving

Literally hundreds, if not thousands, of types and species of trees are found throughout the Malay archipelago. But while all trees produce wood, not all wood is of value or use to the traditional Malay woodcarver. Despite the variety of material found in abundance all around him, the woodcarver does not have complete freedom to determine the design of his work. Ultimately, he is merely a servant (abdi) to his art and its rules and norms. He is not the one who will decide what the finished product will look like, despite his initial plans and his good intentions. It is the wood itself that determines how it will be used. This has always been the case in the woodcarving tradition in Southeast Asia. Similar philosophies are apparent in the woodcarving traditions of East Asian countries such as Korea and Japan, and are also prevalent throughout the Indian subcontinent.⁴

The form, pattern and grain of the wood will ultimately decide how and where it will be employed. This is because each type of wood has a character of its own, and it is this character that determines how it will best be used. Some patterns and grains are better suited for carving three-dimensional objects such as keris handles, while others are more suited to two-dimensional surfaces such as walls, decorative panels, furniture, doors and gates. (Even within a house, different types of wood will be used for different parts, depending on the latter's importance.) In classical Malay wood-carving, one often encounters unique pieces where the carver has deliberately ornamented his work in such a way as to enhance the grain and pattern of the wood, at the same time relegating his own carvings and adornments to a secondary status.

The most popular types of wood that were, and still are, commonly used by Malay woodcarvers include a number of hardwoods:

• Kemuning (Murraya paniculata, sometimes known as Chinese myrtle), a honey yellow hardwood endowed with a beautiful flame-like, luminescent grain running through it. Kemuning is also blessed with stripes as well as the quality of chatoyance (renek), or the ability to change its lustre. This is the king of woods for most Malay woodcarvers of the traditional school. It is highly prized in Malaysia, in particular, where its colour is thought to complement the gold brocaded cloth known as songket, another artistic tradition of the east coast states of the Malay Peninsula. This wood is often used for sculptures and keris sheaths and handles, and is so highly prized that it is never used for furniture or construction. Antique keris sheaths made of kemuning were rarely covered with silver or gold for additional decoration, as the beauty of the wood was regarded as being impressive enough by itself.

• Kenaung or kemung (Diospjros ebenum), often referred to as ebony, an extremely expensive black wood which is used for making keris handles. Its black tones add a touch of elegance and nobility to the keris handles that are made out of it. It remains a favourite among keris collectors who prefer the unstated elegance of monochromatic woods to the more outlandish and exuberant patterns found in wood elsewhere in the archipelago. This wood is becoming increasingly rare.

• Angsana or sena (Vterocarpus indicus), a deep orange-gold hardwood, which is sometimes used for making keris sheaths, but never keris handles. Woodcarvers regard it as the most suitable wood for traditional Malay furniture and it is also quite popular for house construction.

Carpenters working by the river in Kelantan at the end of the 19th century. Newly felled tree trunks were floated downriver to a processing shed where they were cut into planks to facilitate transport by the small, narrow boats that plied these rivers. Photograph reproduced by permission of the Syndics of the Cambridge University Library.

Other woods known for their particularly strong semangat include medang hitam (Litsea myristicaefolia) and nangka (jackfruit, Artocarpus heterophyllus). These woods were often employed in the construction of the ceremonial Burung Berarak, a mythical giant bird which was often paraded during important festivities and state rituals in the northern kingdoms of Pattani and Kelantan. They were also used in the production of masks (topeng), another important cultural totem in the world of Malay art and cultural performances. Similar requirements held sway in other parts of the Malay archipelago, especially in Java and Bali, where masks and other sacred objects for public rituals were deemed important enough to be given individualized treat-ment and were made of special materials.⁵

Malay architects and builders have also always harboured preferences. Their favourite woods include jati (teak, Tectona grandis), cengal (Neobalanocarpus heimii), and merbau (Intsia palembanica). All are black to brownish in colour and so dense that they can blunt even the hardiest of carving instruments. These woods are thought to be particularly good for constructing the beams and pillars of Malay houses as they are extremely durable and resistant to infestation. The other parts of the house are often made from different types of lesser woods, such as balau (Shorea spp.), resak (Vatica spp.), perah (Elateriospernum tapos) and sepetir (Sindora spp.).

Other popular and commonly used woods include:

• Gaharu (aloe wood, Aquilaria malaccensis), a pitch black, shiny wood which is often thought to have both spiritual and medicinal properties. It is often used for keris handles in the other parts of the archipelago.

CEREMONIAL BED FRAME (RT006a)

Pattani, date unknown, nangka, angsana, merbau and teak woods, 205.18 x 215.4 x 182.1 cm

The frame shown here is the front section of a royal four-poster bed reputed to eject any commoner who attempted to sleep on it. The bed takes the form of a traditional Chinese wedding bed with rails, subtly curved and notched in the Malay style, and panelling around three sides. The fourth, open side of the bed contains delicate tracery composed of bunga kerak nasi flowers and leaves and daun sesayap edged with delicate ribbons almost resembling bed curtains. The front of the massive base is decorated with kerak nasi leaves. The legs at the back are carved with a similar curving outline but are devoid of ornamentation. A top frame, designed to support a mosquito net, is also moulded and painted. The bed appears to have its original scarlet and indigo colours. The carvings are all richly gilded.

The merbau (Intsia palembanica) (above) is a reddish hardwood often used instead of cengal in building. The halban (Vitex spp.) (below) is a small tree commonly found growing next to rice fields. Its wood, which is dense, heavy and resistant to rot, is widely used for making domestic artefacts.

• Cendana (sandalwood, Santalum album) which is prized for its fragrant scent and is often used for both sculptures and carvings, as well as for medicinal purposes.

• Gemia (Bouea microphylla), a reddish hardwood which is often used for making keris handles and sheaths but is not used for furniture.

• Setar (Bouea macrophylla), a reddish-brown hardwood that is used for keris handles in the Malay Peninsula but for little else.

• Celagi (Tamarindus indica), known locally as asam jawa, often used for the handles of parang (cutting knifes).

• Halban (Vitex pubescens), a brownish to dull grey wood.

• Vauh hutan, a dark red wood that is sufficiently hard to be used for keris handles.

• Bongor (Lagerstroemia speciosa), which is reddish-brown in colour.

• Ketengga (Memillia caloxylon), a yellowish-brown wood which, like bongor, is only used for making keris sheaths but never keris handles or furniture. Nor is it used in the construction of houses and other buildings.

In other parts of the Malay archipelago we come across other woods, such as the deep brownish tajuman (Cassia laevigata willa), the sawo (Achras zapota), the trembalo (Djsoxylum acutangulum) and the tomoho or pelet (Kleinhovia hospita). These woods are very popular in Java, Bali and Sumatra. Needless to say, like their counterparts in the Malay Peninsula, the woodcarvers of Indonesia have evolved their own complex (and at times confounding) belief systems surrounding these woods. The most important observation that needs to be made is that the woodcarvers of the Malay world share a common understanding and respect for the material they work with. For the wood-carvers of the archipelago, there are a number of cardinal rules and protocols to beobserved and one of these is the belief that the best wood should be reserved for the carving of sculptures. It goes without saying that the best sculpture in the Malay world is found in the carving of keris hilts (hulu keris).

While woodcarvers in Java or Bali seem to favour woods of contrasting colours and flamboyant grains, among them tomoho/pelet and trembalo, Malay woodcarvers of the peninsula arc more partial to woods such as kemuning and kenaung because of their subtler coloration and patterns.

All of these Malaysian woods are thought to possess semangat properties in various degrees. The magnificent kemuning, in particular, was thought to have strong semangat, and the adab of finding, cutting and working the kemuning wood formed a universe of its own.

In the past, the kemuning was regarded as the tree of the Dewi (Primordial Goddess), and it was reserved for the use of kings and nobles. It was so highly sought after that it was almost impossible to find the tree growing naturally near any human settlement, for its discovery meant that it was almost certain to be cut down. The tree was sometimes referred to as 'the tree with a hundred and one uses'. Woodcarvers would wax eloquent about its merits: its grain did not destroy the quality of their work and did not distract the eye of the admirer; the wood was hard enough to be used for the hilts of weapons, yet light to the touch and easy to work. Many varieties of kemuning were used, including the kemuning limau (lemon yellow kemuning), kemuning buah lada (peppercorn kemuning) and kemuning buah kekut (cherry fruit kemuning).

Sultan Muhammad V of Kelantan and his son outside the gates of the Balai Besar, Kota Bharu. The fine pemeleh pintu over the doorway is in the form of a gunungan, with foliate sulurbayu, and is protected from the worst of the elements by a shallow roof. The waistcloths of the Sultan and his son are looped over the hilts of their keris as protection against any ill-effects of the camera. The photograph was taken by Sir Frank Swettenham during his visit to the Kelantan capital in October 1902, when he tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade the Sultan to join the Federated Malay States. Photograph reproduced by permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library.

The best kemuning wood came from trees that had died naturally. Woodcarvers might spend weeks, or even months, in search of such treasure in the deep jungles of the peninsula. A find in the forest was the woodcarver's equivalent of discovering a gold mine, and the whereabouts of such a prized hoard would be a closely guarded secret. (This is hardly surprising when we consider that in the past samples of the best kemuning were thought to be more valuable than gold.)

After the discovery of a stand of kemuning, the leaders of the community (often the Raja himself and his ministers and religious functionaries) would engage in long periods of consultation. If they felt that the trees could not be protected from poachers or thieves, they would then decide to cut the trees down themselves. They would begin by identifying a suitable time for felling them. They would also take into consideration criteria such as the location of the trees before felling began. Woodcarvers preferred kemuning trees that were growing in hilly areas where there were plenty of rock formations, as it was believed that this would force the roots of the tree to bend and twist in a number of ways, thereby creating the grain that the woodcarvers so desired. Sometimes the trunks of the trees would be 'scarred' by hacking them with cleavers (parang) and then left to 'mature' for a few years before the trees were actually cut down. This process of scarring the tree trunk was deemed necessary not only to check on the quality of the wood but also to make the wood 'react' to the scarring process. It was thought that such deliberate scarring would cause the trunk to grow in a more erratic and confused manner, thereby adding to the flame-like grain of the wood itself.

Four pisau wall handles. Drawings by Norhaiza Noordin.

The pisau wall is the woodcarver's main carving tool in the Kelantan-Terengganu-Pattani region. Nowadays, such knives are often made using blades from cutthroat razors imported from Europe. The form is carved by a scraping action of the pisau wall after being roughly shaped by the chisel or adze. These knives were made and used by the late Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

PISAU WALI (CARVING KNIFE) (FL062)

Kelantan, late 20th c., kemuning wood, 17 x 4 x 3 cm

Langkasukan motifs finish this knife handle. Small pieces of kemuning that are not suitable for the carving of keris hilts are often used to make handles of this type. Motifs are designed to camouflage cracks or blemishes.

PISAU WALI (FL061)

Kelantan, late 20th c., kenaung wood, ivory, 16 x 3 x 2.5 cm

This is the last pisau wall made by Nik Rashiddin. The handle is formed of kenaung wood and the stupa finial from ivory.

It can thus be seen that the relationship between the woodcarver and the tree was a long and complex one that began with the process of identifying the trees he required for his work. By the end of the process, the woodcarver would have probably spent anything between five to ten years (in some cases, even more) with each particular tree, cultivating it, preparing it before it was cut down, carefully dissecting it piece by piece to find the best parts, preserving it, and finally putting it to use.

From Tree to Wood: Traditional Wood Care and Storage

Wood that had been cut from the forest was usually treated with great care and respect. The Malay woodcarver realized that the wood that was now in his possession was no ordinary material. It had come from a tree, which was a living thing endowed with semangat and nyawa, vitality and life, and thus had an identity and character of its own. In some parts of the Malay archipelago, respect for the living tree was so great that woodcarvers would perform specific rituals prior to felling the tree in the hope that they would be pardoned for their audacity in turning it into lumber.⁶

Woodcarvers in the past would also store their most prized pieces of wood in the rumah padi (rice storehouse), along with their supply of padi. This was a special privilege bestowed on particularly fine, and small, pieces of wood that were singled out to be carved into keris handles. The reason for this choice of location was simple enough: the rumah padi was thought to be particularly suitable because it had the right temperature and humidity levels. The air was never too damp, the ventilation was good, and the building was also free from vermin and other pests.

But there were other reasons as well, reasons that had more to do with the esoteric dimension of the semangat of wood. For it was thought that padi, being a life-giving and life-sustaining food source, was particularly endowed with strong semangat of its own. To maintain the semangat of wood, it was thought that the rumah padi was the best place to keep it, as it would ensure that the semangat of the wood remained at a high level. Thus, the connection between the semangat of wood and the semangat of padi was a strong one. (It is important to note that in the past, other items and objects of strong semangat were stored in the rumah padi as well. This included the blades of keris, spears and other weapons or ritual objects.

Having stored the wood in the rumah padi, the woodcarver would leave it there to dry for several years. Some woodcarvers have been known to keep the wood in their rumah padi for dozens of years, until it had reached the required levels of dryness and hardness that gave it the strength and resilience that the woodcarver desired. During this prolonged period, the store of padi would be changed and replenished time and again, while the wood in the rumah padi would merely accumulate the semangat that was being stored in the same place.

A pisau wall handle. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

Foliate spirals commonly used on keris tajong hilts and on architectural elements. This particular example appears on a post at Masjid Pulau Condong, Kelantan. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

A keris hilt decorated with the leaves of the ketumbit, a common garden herb. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

Larger pieces of wood would be kept under the house of the carver himself, which was raised on posts above the ground. Before storing, woodcarvers often cut these pieces into lengths of about two feet (60 cm). These would then be left under the house, often for years, allowing them to age naturally and to dry out. It was important to store them in a place where they would not be exposed to direct sunlight as this could damage the grain of the wood.

While the wood was being stored in this way, it was also important that it should not be moved for any reason. Traditional woodcarvers believed that while the wood was being dried, its orientation should not be altered. If this were to happen, they believed that the colour and grain (pela and coreng) of the wood might be adversely affected and might change dramatically. The woodcarver would therefore check his wood periodically, observing it for the smallest changes that would indicate to him when a particular piece was mature enough for use.

Another curious way of keeping wood for future use was to utilize wood that had been used for other purposes elsewhere. It must be noted that this practice cannot and should not be compared to modern modes of recycling, for the wood in this case had not been simply discarded or deemed unfit for use. What the woodcarvers were doing was simply working on wood that was already in everyday service around them. An example of such a practice can be found in the way that some woodcarvers used wood that had come from parts of their houses, such as the beams or the foundations. Having decided that a particular section of the wood was mature enough, the woodcarver would simply remove that piece and replace it with a newer piece. The wood that was removed was then cleaned, cut and treated before it was put to other uses such as keris handles or sculpture. (Some present-day woodcarvers continue this practice of obtaining wood from old houses and palaces that have been dismantled or have simply been left to deteriorate.)

Once again, there are both simple and complex explanations for the process of using old wood. On the simpler level, one could explain this as a straightforward process of replacing wood and utilizing material that had been already put to use and was thus tried and tested. But the esoteric dimension of the process provides us with a more complex explanation. Traditional woodcarvers justified the practice on the grounds that it was a good way to prepare wood that would be endowed with strong semangat. Having already put it to use in a human habitat, such wood would have 'fed' on the life forces or semangat that was surrounded it and grown even more potent over the years. To put it simply, such wood had become 'accustomed' to human beings and was thus better able to 'serve' them.

The storage of wood was therefore not a simple process for the Malay wood carver. He was not merely keeping the wood aside for future use, but was preparing the wood for higher ends. Prior to working with the wood, the woodcarver was slowly growing accustomed to it and trying to uncover its hidden mysteries. The Malays learnt that in order to have a proper relationship with wood, they had to first discover its secrets.

Knowledge of semangat was thus critical for the proper use and work of wood, and one could only bring out the best of any kind of wood if one possessed the appropriate knowledge of its particular semangat. Higher woods were—and still are—used for higher, nobler ends, while lesser woods were reserved for common usage. This then is the adab (custom) of wood and woodcarving.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG (KW014)

Pattani, pre-18th c., kemuning wood, 6.6 x 11.1 x 3.6 cm

Close-up of a very early keris tajong hilt from Pattani (see pages 118-19).

From Wood to Art: The Adab of Woodcarving

Classical Malay woodcarving was never an industry. It was a vocation with a credo and adab all of its own, and rules that were then known only to a select few.

The preparation of the wood itself was half the task. As we have seen, the wood-carver would spend years preparing the wood that he was going to work with in order that there would be a perfect match (jodoh) between himself and his material. Traditional woodcarvers believed that they could produce their best work only if they were working with wood that was compatible (serasi) with their own personalities. When making pieces that were intended for the personal use of others, such as keris hilts, the woodcarver also had to ensure that the wood he chose was compatible with the person the object was intended for, thereby complicating his task even further. This kind of intimate knowledge was known as ilmu falak. It was only when these conditions had been met, that the woodcarver could even contemplate the task that lay before him.

Prior to embarking on a carving, the Malay woodcarver would first carry out several rites and rituals of preparation. He would wake up early in the morning, before dawn, and begin his day with devotional prayers. His body had to be cleansed in every respect, because no traces of pollutants or contaminants were permitted. He had to purify himself, not only physically but also mentally and emotionally.

The world of the woodcarver was also circumscribed by many self-imposed routines and other rituals of work. He had to ensure that he was always in a position to do his best work at the right time of the day. Thus, time and energy would be spent on finding the right materials from which to make his own tools. Knowledge of his habitat and the environment around him helped to ensure that he would always have the necessary materials to hand, since knives and sharpening tools were made from locally found material by the woodcarver himself.⁷ Knowledge of and sensitivity to the local flora and fauna also provided him with inspiration for his work and motifs for his carvings.

PULPIT PANEL (AR019J)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, late 19th c., cengal wood, 15 x 51 x 2 cm

Panel from a mosque pulpit (mimbar) in Kota Bharu, Kelantan, with a formal composition of abstracted Langkasukan motifs in a diamond pattern (see pages 64-6).

These preparations were not entirely for private or individualistic ends, for the carver's true intentions were to prepare himself to be in such a state that he would be able to attune himself to the characteristics of the wood he was working with. This had to be done so that he could work intuitively, basing his judgements and decisions on the intuitive feelings that came to his heart (sentuhan hati) while he worked.

Before setting knife to wood, the woodcarver needed to vacate his ego, so that he would be in an ideal state to begin. He needed to ensure that his emotional and physical instincts (nafsu) were entirely under his control and kept at bay before he could start. He was, in a sense, relocating the centre of his consciousness on the level of semangat. Then, at the right moment, the guru asal (the primordial teacher, or teaching impulse) would appear, and the hands of the woodcarver would jump to life, animated, carving out traces and forms that have been passed down from generation to generation. This was the adab of woodcarving.

The woodcarver also had to ensure that specific and exacting conditions had been met before he began his work. The wood he was working with was accorded the respect due to it. If it was a particularly high quality of wood, it would be treated with great care. In some parts of the Malay archipelago, such as Bali, certain woods were even accorded divine or semi-divine status, as gifts from the gods or as incarnations of divine powers. In such cases, the rituals surrounding the working of such woods bordered on the religious.

The place where the woodcarver did his best work also had to be specially chosen. The woodcarver took pains to find the appropriate place to carry out his labours, to ensure that he would not be interrupted and that all his energy and attention could be focused on the wood that he was trying to transform and whose secrets he was trying to uncover. He might prefer to work in the cool of the early morning, when the light was not too harsh and where the depth and volume of his carving could be clearly seen without straining his eyes. He might also feel the need to work in isolation in order to distance himself from the world of humanity and domestic happenings around him. This ascetic approach reflected the woodcarver's own belief that the wood he was working with was a liminal entity that was literally from the margins of humanity and civilization. The encounter between carver and wood was therefore a complex and precarious one that took place along the interface between human civilization and the state of nature.

The woodcarver would also identify the right circumstances for him to begin his work. He would find the right days, known as the hari-hari dewasa, where his artistic abilities would be at their peak and when he could attune himself to his work and the material he was working with. These were the days when the guru asal might inspire him with new ideas and designs, or when the secret of the wood might be revealed to him. Some days were also better suited for specific types of work. The carvers of keris hilts and sheaths, for example, would make sure that they did not do both kinds of work on the same day. Hilts were carved on certain days while sheaths were reserved for others.

Other norms and restrictions (petua kerja) included:

• Not working on certain days when one's social obligations should come first. For instance, the woodcarver should never put his work before his obligations to the community around him, such as attending family gatherings, circumcision ceremonies, weddings and funerals.

• Not working when one was either too tired or too energetic. There had to be harmony not only in the work but also in the worker himself. Balance was crucial for the woodcarver and he tried to maintain it before, during and after his work.

• Not working for the sake of work alone, or worse still, for purely commercial reasons. The adab of woodcarving and the strong tutelary bonds between wood-carvers and their pupils, if they had them, ensured that the woodcarver's labours were always part of his vocation and an expression of his artistry, rather than mere work for commercial ends.

It was only when these conditions were met that the woodcarver could produce his best work. These lingkungan kerja, or prerequisites of the working environment, were of crucial importance for carvers who were particularly sensitive to the needs of certain woods and knew how to bring out their hidden properties and qualities.

When the carving was finally completed, the woodcarver would round up his work by putting the final, finishing touches (sentuhan terakhir) to it. The finishing touches would be applied with the daun mempelas (Petrea volubilis), a shrub often found close to village dwellings and settlements. Sometimes the skin of the stingray (ikan pari) would also be used, after it had been treated by soaking it in lime juice and left to dry in the sun. The carved object would then be polished for the last time by the woodcarver.

To seal the wood and to bring out the colour of the grain, the woodcarver would traditionally coat the article with a layer of lacquer made from the resin of the getah sapan or keruing tree (Dipterocarpus spp.). Collecting the resin was a complex and ritualistic process. The woodcarver would cut the tree in the middle of the night, and wait for the resin to flow from the trunk naturally. By morning, it would have solidified into a hard, amber-coloured lump, which was then boiled to make the shellac. Once the object has been shellacked, it was considered finished. The woodcarver's relationship with his work had come to an end.

To sum up, classical Malay woodcarving was a symbiotic process whereby the woodcarver was directly in communication with the medium that he was working with. It was a unique relationship in which the vital energies of the woodcarver and the wood itself would interpenetrate and overlap, creating a closed economy of semangat forces. The semangat of wood played a direct role in determining the quality of the work that was produced by the woodcarver himself. Woodcarvers believed that the semangat of the wood would emanate from it and that it would determine the quality of the work they did. Wood with particularly strong semangat would arouse the interest and enthusiasm of the woodcarver himself, and would in turn add to his own semangat (semangat kerja).

In the past (and even among today's artisans), Malay woodcarvers believed that pieces of art that possessed particularly strong semangat would guarantee their appeal for generations. The semangat of a completed work is something that cannot be equated with the quality of the workmanship or the beauty of the design in the wood-carving. It is a property that somehow animates the work and gives it a vitality and appeal of its own, much like a 'magnet' which attracts others to it. Traditional wood-carvers believe that some antique pieces maintain their appeal for the present and future generations not only because of the beauty of their design and the quality of their workmanship, but also because of the semangat contained within the object itself. Connoisseurs in the past believed that their love for their objects was due to this intrinsic connection between human beings and other objects that share the common bond of semangat.

For the traditional woodcarver, it was always necessary to seek out the best wood, wood that was endowed with strong semangat, for wood of low semangat would dampen the spirit of the woodcarver, thereby diminishing his interest (hilang semangat) and in the end leading to the production of work of average quality. Furthermore, wood of low semangat would sap away the semangat of the woodcarver himself, thereby causing a loss to the economy of semangat that governed the process of classical wood-carving.

Having understood the hidden dimension of the semangat of wood, we now have a better understanding of the esoteric principles that underlie woodcarving and wood use in the Malay world. Bearing in mind the cardinal rules that determine the way wood is produced and employed in the Malay world, we can see that the exoteric dimension of woodcarving is balanced out by the esoteric codes and norms that guide the process of woodcarving itself.

A geometric swastika pattern is used in the ventilation panels (sisip angin) above the plain, panelled walls of Masjid Wadi Husin atTelok Manok, Pattani (see pages 74-9). The swastika was commonly adopted in Malay culture as a symbol of protection.

Interior of Masjid Wadi Husin, Telok Manok, Pattani. Diffused light coming through geometrically patterned ventilation panels provides a cool, peaceful ambience for prayer. The exposed roof structure can be clearly seen.

Malay Carving in Architecture

Practically every wooden object that was produced in the Malay world in the past was made according to strictly regulated and policed rules and standards. The traditional Malay house, for example, was not merely a construction of wooden posts, beams and trusses and timber walls and floors. The choice of woods and timber was always deliberate and the design of the Malay house was such that it brought together the most potent and propitious woods in a powerful matrix of vital forces that maximized the semangat of the house as a whole and all those who resided in it. Far from being a mere constructed assembly, the Malay house, with its combination of woods of varying degrees of semangat, was in reality a 'generator' that reproduced vital semangat energy designed to maintain harmony and balance in the domestic milieu of its inhabitants. Poorly designed houses made up of woods of different, or possibly conflicting, semangat forces, were considered to have the reverse effect of creating an unbalanced environment characterized by chaos and disorder.⁸ The interconnected-ness of houses and their occupants was further reinforced by the performance of appropriate rituals during the tree-felling process as well as the traditional system of measuring house timbers based on proportions of the human body prior to construction (Gibbs, 1987). One 'rule' specified that the main posts of a house were supposed to be cut from a single trunk and arranged in the same relation to each other that they had in the tree. Another was that house posts should not be inverted, but 'planted' with the base or trunk end down and the tip up.

Other objects made by the woodcarver were also designed to play their appointed roles in the complex network of social relations and the value system of the Malays. Within the constructions built by the Malay woodcarvers were many everyday props and architectural features that were endowed with meaning and social purpose. Walls and partitions constructed by the woodcarvers had to fulfil a host of socio-cultural needs and requirements. On the exoteric level, they were merely devices used to create enclosed and private spaces within the Malay home, reflecting—and reproducing—the compartmentalized social universe of traditional Malay society. But beyond that were other esoteric demands and expectations. The beauty and quality of the carvings found on walls and partition panels as well as on window, grilles, air vents, doors, railings, bargeboards, fascia boards and gates were meant to serve as visual indicators of the social rank and status of the occupants and owners of the dwellings themselves. Thus, the social ordering within the enclosed space of the Malay home spilled over into the broader social space of Malay society without through the medium of architecture and carving.

At the peak of this social hierarchy was the traditional Malay palace (istana), with its own norms and standards of aesthetics and construction. The Malay palace stood as a solid, material expression of Malay identity in the profane space of the here and now. Its design (usually far more ornate, complex and elevated than that of other Malay dwellings) reflected the ordering of the Malay social cosmos in allegorical form. The choice of woods used in its construction, and the choice of carved motifs employed in its decoration and adornment, were never accidental. All were intended to mark the boundary and hierarchical relation between the ruler and the ruled, the Raja and the rakyat, of civilization as government and nature as chaos.

Carved window panels from part of an old Terengganu Malay house, reconstructed by Norhaiza Noordin in Kampung Raja, Besut. The intricate tracery formed by the carving of pucuk kacang (bean shoots) allows suffused light to be brought in and air to be freely circulated.

Parts of elaborate screens and wall partitions from Istana Sri Akar, the Kota Bharu residence of the last Raja of Pattani, in the late 19th century. The panels were made by several different carvers, some of them Muslim Chinese immigrants.

PANEL (AR050)

Cengal wood, 56 x 32.5 x 4.5 cm

A natural freedom in the leaves and bunga telepuk, a water plant, is seen in this otherwise symmetrical panel with a punca air (water source).

PANEL (AR0049)

Cengal wood, 56.5 x 33 x 4 cm

This asymmetrical carving flows from a punca benih (seed source) within a figure-of-eight spiral.

As for political and public architecture, carvings for religious and spiritual establishments such as mosques (masjid) and smaller religious buildings (surau and madrasah) also had to meet certain standards and requirements in the choice of wood and the carving patterns in order to effectively delineate the boundaries between sacred and profane spaces. This is a tradition that goes back to the roots of pre-Islamic Malay woodcarving, when the carving of sacred totems and symbols was steeped in an arcane and obscure cosmology of its own.⁹

In sum, the quality of the carvings and the wood used in the construction of Malay settlements also played an important role in the construction and reproduction of social space, governed as it was by a complex social hierarchy and its order of status and rank. Malay architecture and woodcarving were responsible for keeping the Malay world together in an organized and organic whole in more ways than one. It brought these settlements together within a geographical and terrestrial space that was also shaped by a common social milieu governed by norms and taboos that were cultural in nature. In the shape, form and content of Malay woodcarving and architecture can be seen the hermeneutic code of Malay civilization itself.

PANEL (AR007)

Cengal wood, 73.1 x 55.15 x 4.5 cm

The large central flower, called bunga Cina (gardenia), is surrounded by a delicate tracery of leaves and stems with pomegranate fruit. The source has been described as both earth and water and is perhaps a stylized waterfall.

PANEL (AR016)

Cengal wood, 54 x 32.5 x 3.5 cm

Flowers in this asymmetrical carving, which flow from a punca benih, are not traditionally Malay in design but are more closely aligned to the peonies commonly found in Chinese paintings and other works of art.

Patterns and Symbols of Malay Woodcarving

The scholar Anjum Rehmani has pointed out that 'art constitutes an attempt to depict the phenomenal aspect of reality in a way that we may be able to grasp the deeper or inner meaning behind the piece of art itself.' Art therefore 'has a symbolic significance, and the symbols in art play an important role in the creation of art. By having a proper understanding of the significance of these symbols we can have an insight into the reality underlying them'.¹⁰ This holds true for an understanding of Malay art, shaped as it is by the complex hermeneutics of Malay civilization, as it does for the 'great art' of any other civilization in world history. The hermeneutic code of Malay civilization and cosmology is evident in the patterns, symbols and forms found in Malay woodcarving and architecture till today. Malay scholars have discussed at length the significance of natural symbols such as the lotus (bunga teratai), the seed (benih), and the leaves and petals of particular flowers and plants that continue to appear in the compositions of both traditional and contemporary carvers.¹¹

The configurations and compositions found in most works of Malay art (but particularly in woodcarving) tend to revolve around the dominant themes of creation and regeneration, order and hidden meanings, and the unseen presence of the divine in the terrestrial world of men and animals. It is hardly surprising that Malay wood-carvers have been at the forefront of the elaboration of these complex philosophical concerns when we consider that the medium with which they work occupies such a pivotal position and revered status in the cosmological pageant of the Malays.

The lover of Malay woodcarving and architecture would therefore come to expect certain arrangements and configurations of motifs and patterns in works of quality. The recurrent motif of the seed, bursting forth with life and energy (often depicted in the form of flowering tendrils and /or roots); the ambiguous image of the open lotus which reveals its beauty and grace before us while concealing its true hidden nature; the reversed image of flowing vines (sometimes called awan larat, meandering clouds), which is often reflected upon itself, forming a twin couplet that symbolizes both the beauty (jamal) and majesty (jalal) of the divine—these are all popular and recurrent themes in Malay art.

At the hands of the traditional Malay woodcarver, the profound understanding and beliefs of the Malays have found their expression in elaborate and at times even confounding patterns and compositions that astonish the viewer. Here, then, lies the local genius of the traditional Malay woodcarver as the artist who interprets the human condition around him. His claim to fame is his ability to translate the philosophical and religious beliefs of his culture into an art form. In Malay woodcarving, we encounter the existential drama of the Malay people objectified.

It can be seen that the process of woodcarving and woodwork in the Malay world was a holistic enterprise that absorbed the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual energies of the woodcarver. But this was hardly surprising considering the fact that in the traditional Malay world the relationship between human beings and the tree was a holistic one as well as one that occurred on a number of physical and metaphysical levels. The tree was never a mere object or living organism for the Malays, even after it had been reduced to wood and that wood had been put to the use of human beings. It remained, from the beginning to the end, an indispensable resource that was endowed with properties, forces and secrets of its own, which the Malays endeavoured to master and understand in the hope of understanding themselves and their place in the cosmos. Today, these secrets and knowledge are all but lost except to a handful of experts and masters of the ancient arts. There remains only the question of what the future might bring to this tradition that has until recently been thought to be verging on the edge of extinction.

Gateway leading to Kubur Tok Ku Tuan Syed Muhammad Ahmad at Cabang Tiga, Terengganu, the tomb of an early religious leader (imam) and his wife. The gunungan forming the top of the gateway has strong overtones of Langkasukan imagery. The two central panels contain verses carved in low relief from the Koran. The lower part of the gate is kept plain, apart from small decorative motifs around the edges.

A fine carving of a makara (see page 102).

References and Works

The motifs found in Malay woodcarving may be read as a record of the foreign powers that have swept across the Malay Peninsula. The echoes of the influences of these ancient civilizations, which include early Funan, China, India and SriVijaya, stylized and rendered as symbolic motifs, pervade the spectrum of Malay woodcarving, from the simplest household objects to weapons, and from architectural elements to the ceremonial objects that were the preserve of the royal courts.

The key motifs which seem to have emerged prior to the fourteenth century were depictions of dewa (deities) and symbols, most of which can be traced back to Hindu—Buddhist origins. These include the gunungan, representing Mount Meru, the abode of the gods, situated at the centre of the universe in Hindu—Buddhist mythology, the buah buton (stupa), bunga teratai (lotus), pucuk rebung (bamboo shoot), makara, face of Kala, and the spiral. The use of these motifs is intriguing. The face of Kala, for instance, a Hindu guardian entity, can be found throughout the Malay household, embellishing anything from biscuit moulds to wall panels. Similarly, the makara, which symbolizes both water and fertility, is not only strongly represented in the world of the fisherman, but appears on weapons, quail traps and panelling.

The arrival of Islam to the Malay Peninsula after the fourteenth century provided the next great surge of artistic expression. During this period, these motifs were transformed into abstract or natural forms to reflect the new Islamic ethos in the region. The face of Kala came to be obscured by foliage, while the makara evolved into flame-like leaf forms which appear in almost all the early carvings, and of which the most exuberant expression is the sulur bayu, the tendril-like extensions which so often feature in gunungan. This abstracted leaf form is referred to throughout the book as the Langkasukan motif. Other motifs gained even greater ascendance. For instance, the gunungan, which denotes status and power, is found gracing religious artefacts like mimbar (mosque pulpits) and Korans, as well as gateways—be they an entrance to a palace or an opening to a quail trap. This shape is also found in the head-dresses of one of the important dance dramas of Kelantan, the MakYong.

The late Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein (above) and his protege, Norhaiza Noordin (below). Nik Rashiddin referred to the artefacts reproduced in this book as his'textbooks'as little has been written on the subject of woodcarving and, in particular, the motifs employed.

Another important source of motifs was the carver's immediate surroundings. The works of a Malay woodcarver abound with motifs that depict such homely plants as the sulur kacang (bean sprout), pucuk paku (fern shoot) and bunga pepulut (hayseed). Flowering trees like the frangipani and jasmine provided elements in the form of shoots, leaves and blossoms. The woodcarver even found inspiration in garden weeds like the ketam guri, jari buaya and kerak nasi. However, these motifs, too, have been transformed through time and barely resemble their real-life namesakes.

Representations of specific flowers and leaves sent out clear messages. For instance, in the nineteenth century, a prime minister of Kelantan set up a magnificent pintu gerbang or gateway to his property that proclaimed his power by its size and quality. He then demonstrated his humility by placing over the door a delicate carving of kangkung, a water convolvulus commonly found growing in every pond and stream (see page 80). Beyond such simple interpretations, however, much of the symbolic value of these motifs has been lost through the passage of time and the diminution of the woodcarver's craft and prestige.

Gravestones: Early Evidence of Islamization

The earliest examples of Malay carving are to be found in stone, more particularly gravestones (nesan) carved from, stone. Executed in a variety of shapes—hexagonal, octagonal, round, flat and shallow, square—and usually consisting of a foundation, main body, shoulders and head, they display a wide variety of carving skills and the sensitive use of material. The flat middle sections on the front and back of the gravestones are often carved with holy verses, including the first two sentences of the Islamic creed. Many of the gravestones made for members of royalty and important chiefs between the fifteenth and nineteenth centuries originated in Aceh, on the Indonesian archipelago, and have since come to be known as Batu Aceh.

In Pattani, in present-day southern Thailand, can be found gravestones which date back to before the fifteenth century, when Pattani, or Langkasuka, was being converted to the Islamic faith. The gravestones bear finely carved holy verses and motifs, the latter adapted and abstracted from Hindu—Buddhist imagery to suit Islamic circumstances. The motifs provide modern-day woodcarvers with a vital and comprehensive reference for their own work. Just outside Pattani lies the tomb of Raja Hijau, who ruled Pattani after the murder of her brother in 1584. She brought peace and great prosperity to Pattani, promoting agriculture and building dams and canals. Raja Hijau was succeeded by three other queens: Raja Biru, Raja Ungku and, finally, Raja Kuning.¹² Strong stupa forms mark her grave.

Also in Pattani lies the gravesite known as Kubur Baharom. The gravestones here are between 45 and 65 cm in height. Although they carry neither name nor date, Wayne Bougas argues convincingly that they probably date from around 1500 and mark the graves of royal personages.¹³ His claims are supported by local lore that states that Raja Marekah, the first Islamic king of Pattani, is buried here. According to legend, Raja Marekah converted to Islam when a Muslim holy man cured him of a previously incurable skin disease. The inscriptions are very eroded, but appear to be partly written upside down. They face inwards, that is, towards the grave, suggesting that they were carved for the benefit of the deceased as well as the mourner.

In Kelantan andTerengganu, some early gravemarkers have survived in wood. The most important are two that were carved in memory of beloved wives. The first marks the grave of Che Ku Tuan Nawi, the consort of Raja LongYunus, who ruled Kelantan in the early eighteenth century and is believed to be the founder of the present Kelantan sultanate. Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein has described this gravemarker as a unique 'textbook' on motifs that is unparalleled in Malay culture. The second grave, the KuburTok KuTuan Syed Muhammad Ahmad, at CabangTiga, is a superb monument, albeit less easy to date. Carved forTok Ku Tuan Syed Muhammad Ahmad, an important religious leader in Terengganu, and his wife, this memorial is said by locals to date from the seventeenth century, although some scholars believe that an eighteenth-century date is more probable.¹⁴ Elizabeth Moore has noted that early stone carvings in Cambodia and Thailand were executed in the tradition of wood, even demonstrating sophisticated joinery techniques.¹⁵ She believes that woodcarvings may have preceded stone ones, but being perishable, did not survive.

View of Raja Hijau's gravesite. Raja Hijau, the first in a line of queens, ruled Pattani after the murder of her brother in 1584.

GRAVESITE OF RAJA HIJAU Yarang, Pattani, early 17th c.

Simple but imposing stupas mark Raja Hijau's grave.

An important point about all the gravemarkers described here is that although three centuries may have separated their creation, the motifs remained very similar. It would be reasonable to suppose that these early representations of Malay cultural art might have carried the motifs through from earlier eras.

KUBUR (GRAVESITE) BAHAROM

Pattani, 15th-16th c.

The main calligraphy on the Batu Aceh stone is the classic avowal of faith. The remaining inscriptions have been described by Bougas as a Sufi poem:'Listen. Verily the world is perishable, the world is not everlasting. Verily the world is like a web woven by a spider.'¹⁶ Spider webs form a background to a frieze of vine tendrils and lotus buds. Above the inscription is a gunungan and a lotus-style summit, symbolizing Mount Meru. Motifs decorating both the summit and the corners of the calligraphy bear strong resemblance to the Langkasukan motifs carved on later tomb-stones in Kelantan and Terengganu.

A general view of the gravesite.

This gravestone, which stands close to the Batu Aceh (left), has finely carved foliate motifs along the base. The motifs at each corner of the calligraphy resemble makara. The petalled hood, which curves around to form two spirals, is indicative of everlasting life, or possibly of the mountains that surround Mount Meru.

GRAVE OF TOK KU TUAN SYED MUHAMMAD AHMAD

Cabang Tiga, Losong, Terengganu, date unknown

Locals believe that Tok Ku Tuan, the religious leader whose grave this is, lived over 300 years ago. There is a clear derivation of Hindu-Buddhist iconography in the female grave-marker carved from cengal and still in a remarkably good state of preservation. An ochre paint has perhaps helped to preserve the wood. The two gravemarkers are kept well off the ground by the wooden framework of the grave proper. Lotus petals edge this base, but at either end the gravemarker rises with a series of Langkasukan motifs that decrease in size in what has been described as a stupa made of layered lotus buds. The style of carving in low relief, replete with Langaksukan motifs, is similar to that of the gravemarkers of the consort of Raja Long Yunus (see page 60). Tok Ku's grave has no visible grave-marker, but the wooden box which covers the grave bears an Islamic inscription with a flourish of daun sesayap along the top.

GRAVE OF PERMAISURI LONG YUNUS, CHE KU TUAN NAWI

Makam di Raja Langgar, Kota Bharu, mid-18th c.

This superb carving marks the grave of the consort of Raja Long Yunus, Che Ku Tuan Nawi. It features several of the motifs that are central to the carvings of Kelantan, Terengganu and Pattani. Each of the four faces of the gravemarkers is carved with slightly different designs.

The crown on the gravemarker of Che Ku Tuan Nawi, consort of Raja Long Yunus, represents the gunungan (mountaintop or Mount Meru) or pohon budi (tree of life), which denotes status, in particular, spiritual distinction. The centre contains a motif representing the makara, known locally as daun dewa, and referred to throughout this book as the Langkasukan motif. This motif, rendered as abstract tendrils or leaves, is found in virtually all early carvings in the Kelantan-Terengganu-Pattani region. Graphic depictions of this motif were also often found carved over doorways in Khmer temples. The foot of the gravemarker uses a stylized representation of the lotus, which symbolizes purity in Chinese, Indian and Islamic art. It is similar in outline to the pucuk rebung (bamboo shoot) motif in Malay art and is normally found at the base or border of a design. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

Details of the different designs on each side of the two gravemarkers showing how the craftsman has varied the composition of the elements within the outline.

Outer face at back of grave.

Inner face at front of grave.

Outer face at front of grave (see drawing opposite).

Inner face at back of grave.

The brackets supporting the grave feature deeply carved Langkasukan motifs with pronounced spirals at the tips. The three horizontal tiers between the foot of the gravemarkers and the supporting brackets are also turned with a subtly shaped profile.

MIMBAR (PULPIT)

Masjid Ba' Pu, Yarang, Pattani, date unknown

The simple wooden exterior of Masjid Ba' Pu belies the magnificent throne-like mimbar found inside. This is decorated with stupa finials and panels containing finely carved leaf and spiral motifs. The gunungan, topped with a stupa, is placed on the back of the mimbar, rather than above it.

The Pulpit: The Focal Point of a Mosque

The mosques of the Malay Peninsula have long been embellished with carvings, especially the spaces above the doors, but fine carvings can also be seen on the walls and panelling and on the angle supports or brackets (sesiku) on the pillars inside the mosque. It is the carvings on the mimbar, or pulpit, of mosques, however, which most clearly demonstrate the splendour of Malay woodcarving and its role in enhancing Islamic architecture. Like the mihrab, a niche in the wall, the mimbar is a focal point of the mosque. Both the mimbar and mihrab mark the direction of Mecca towards which the congregation must face as they pray. The imam, who leads the congregation in prayers, delivers his sermon while standing in front of the mimbar, not seated or standing in it, which confers on him the authority to speak. The mimbar is always placed adjacent to the mihrab. In rare instances, when the mihrab is large enough, the mimbar is placed within it.

As a piece of liturgical furniture, the mimbar can be as simple as a wooden table and chair or as elaborate as an ornately carved, elevated and canopied throne. Those found in many village mosques located on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula are highly decorated with carving. This carving, however, despite its outwardly elaborate appearance, is not haphazard. It is deliberate and controlled, and opposing elements are held in equilibrium: carvings are constrained within a clearly defined space; highly carved parts are balanced with uncarved sections in order to avoid overcrowding; tracery may alternate with high or low relief work, and forms of calligraphy may be set off against the more luxuriant and curvilinear forms of plant life or linked by abstract, geometrical forms. Interlacing forms with clear-cut shapes may be viewed from all sides.

Unfortunately, many of the mimbar on the east coast of the peninsula have been covered with so many layers of paint that the carved details have been obscured. In recent years, however, they are once more becoming appreciated. The mimbar from the 300-year-old Masjid Kampung Laut (which probably contains the oldest carving in Kelantan in its structural members),¹⁷ is among those now in the collection of the Islamic Museum in Kota Bharu, the capital of Kelantan.

The mimbar found in mosques in other parts of Malaysia, in particular in the states of Melaka, Negeri Sembilan and Perak, are carved with motifs similar to those found on the east coast, and it is possible that craftsmen from the east coast were commissioned to construct these mimbar, as has been the practice in the last two decades.

Details of the carved panels on the sides and back of the mimbar. The spiral flourishes and flame-like leaves, described as Langkasukan motifs, are strongly reminiscent of Langkasukan imagery.

MIMBAR (PULPIT)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, 1874, angsana and cengal woods

This pulpit was salvaged during the rebuilding of an historic mosque at Kampung Langgar in Kota Bharu, Kelantan, and is, at the time of writing, undergoing restoration. The seat and headboard are carved on curved panels with freely drawn foliage and roped stems. The panels placed around the sides have been carved with masterly skill in low relief. The largest panels originally bore carvings of birds—which was highly unusual—but the heads of the birds have been crudely cut away. These panels were reputedly salvaged from a royal palace and would certainly already have been of considerable age when this mosque was constructed in 1874. Other panels contain triangular, spiral and circular compositions of lotus, daun ketumbit and daun Langkasuka. On the steps leading up the mimbar are four carved and turned posts.

PULPIT POSTS (RT019C)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, angsana wood, 74 x 10 cm (left); 39 x 4.5 cm (right)

Two of the four posts which are placed in front of the mimbar, carved with lotus bud and stupa finials.

GUNUNGAN OF PULPIT (RT019A)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, angsana and cengal woods, 148 x 69 x 20 cm

The ornate headboard (pemeleh) of the mimbar is in the shape of a gunungan carved in Langkasukan style, with the characteristic uptilted ends of the sulurbayu. The key motif is the daun sesayap, which is a later floral evolution of the makara, and is ubiquitous to Malay woodcarving from Kelantan. The lower edge of the post features a fine scroll of Islamic calligraphy containing a verse from the Koran. The edge is bordered by a rope motif.

PULPIT PANEL (AR019J)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, early 19th c., cengal wood, 15 x 51 x 2 cm

This panel, from the side of the mimbar at Surau Langgar, is believed to have been part of a longer panel in the palace of Sultan Muhammad Shah (see page 85). Highly abstracted Langkasukan motifs are encased in a series of diamond shapes.

PULPIT PANEL (AR019J)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, early 19th c., cengal wood, 14 x 61.5 x 2 cm

The symmetrical treatment of this second panel on the mimbar focuses on a central floral motif similar to those found in very early carvings in Pattani (see page 13). The design develops into a braided figure-of-eight pattern of daun ketumbit and daun dewa.

PULPIT PANEL (AR019N)

Surau Langgar, Kelantan, late 19th c., cengal wood, 19.24 x 72 x 2 cm

This back panel has an unusual double lotus outline and a strong spiral picked out in red. The carving seems to be of a later date. It was probably deliberately carved for the mimbar, unlike the other panels which have been taken from an old wooden palace and cut down.

MIMBAR
Masjid Losong, Kuala Terengganu, late 19th c.

The exuberant sulurbayu above this pulpit are formed by fluid daun Langkasuka. The crown-like apex is probably a representation of the lotus. Beneath this, the seat of the pulpit is quite plain. Turned posts support the canopy. Simple side panels are carved in low relief, also with daun Langkasuka motifs. Masjid Losong is located close to the grave of Tok Ku Tuan Syed (page 59) which employs similar motifs.

Details of panels on the side and back of the mimbar. The technique of cutting out the background, leaving motifs in low relief, is also widely used for calligraphic carving. The style here is similar to that used for the wooden gravestone of Permaisuri Long Yunus (pages 60-1) and the mimbar panels at Surau Langgar (page 66).

The mimbar inside Masjid Losong.

The octagonal minaret of Masjid Pulau Condong in Kelantan, which stands nearly 20 metres tall, is built entirely of wood. A stairway inside the minaret leads to a circular balcony supported by carved sesiku (brackets). In earlier days, the imam would call the faithful to prayers from this balcony. The decorative frieze around the conical roof is cut from zinc sheeting. A stupa finial protects the point at the top. The date of the minaret is unknown.

Architectural Features: Markers of Boundaries

Wood, as we have seen, was always considered a liminal element that straddled the shifting frontier between the world of civilized human beings and the world of agnostic, primordial nature. In the construction of Malay buildings, whether palaces, houses or mosques, wood functioned as a marker of boundaries on several levels. The construction of doors, windows and gateways not only served practical and utilitarian purposes in the context of Malay society, but also reminded the inhabitants of that society of the complex social, cultural and political hierarchies upon which their entire civilization was founded.

Beautifully carved doors, gateways and window panels acted as interfaces where social encounters could take place. They opened the way for social mobility and interaction between members of society who were not necessarily of the same social standing and status. Elaborately decorated gates and windows of particularly high quality were commissioned by wealthy and powerful patrons to serve as marks of social rank and indicators of status, safeguarding the world of the privileged few from the ordinary masses without. In the case of gates and doors specifically designed for religious sites such as mosques and surau, these pieces would also serve as markers for the boundary between the spaces of the sacred and the profane. The need for such hermeneutically encoded architectural forms was paramount in the context of traditional Malay feudal society where social relations were regulated via a network of complex social norms.

In most homes, the most usual application for carvings was to beautify a door, most often the front entrance to the house, or the windows facing the front. A delicately carved ventilation panel (sisip angin) placed over the aperture embellished the entrance from inside and out, depending on the light source. It could be viewed from the front, from an angle, from behind, and from inside the house both during the day and at night. Such panels were usually fully pierced and carved (tebuk tembus berukir) to give additional ventilation and light when the windows were closed and, in some cases, to control glare from the sun's rays. Alternatively, a frieze or grille of perforated (tebuk tembus) carving, mostly simple fretwork or fine wooden strips of wood laced together or arranged in a vertical or crisscross pattern, was often incorporated into the tops of partitions and outer walls to allow the free flow of air. The floor and roof edges were often covered with decorative fascia boards.

Palaces and mosques built with massive columns (tiang) had additional structural support provided by sesiku, highly decorative brackets. The ends of beams or columns were frequently adorned with buah buton (upright stupa) and buah lebah bergantung (hanging stupa) elements. Embellishments were on a much grander scale.

At the most fundamental level, these architectural constructions—gates, doorways, panels and windows—were themselves the signs of human civilization itself, marked by its ability to control and regulate the movement of bodies and objects in a rational, rule-governed manner. The rudimentary doorway (the proper use of which requires a basic understanding of civil codes and manners) served also as the boundary marker between the world of civilized human beings and the unregulated and ungovernable space of nature without. He who knew how to knock and wait by the door was civilized (sopan, beradab), while only the uncivilized and primitive attempted to transgress such exclusive boundaries.

MASJID BA'PU

Yarang, Pattani, date unknown

The main door of this mosque leads into a small, unpretentious prayer space. The combination of convex and concave curves in the lintel and sides of the ventilation panels (sisip angin) is a classic element of Malay design.

Details of the lintel and window at Masjid Ba'Pu showing the relationship between the shapes of lintels and banisters. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

SESIKU (BRACKET)
Former Istana Tengku Zaharah, Kota Bharu, Kelantan, late 19th c.

A complex interplay of line and form are subtly altered on the sides of these sesiku, exemplifying the principles of Langkasukan motifs. The brackets are part of a series from a wooden palace (Istana Tengku Zaharah) in Kota Bharu, which has been restored and relocated to the campus of Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, Bangi, Selangor.

SESIKU
Surau Kota, Jelasin, Kelantan, late 19th c.

Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin of the sesiku shown on the right from the surau.

One of a pair of sesiku retained in an otherwise totally renovated mosque. Although painted with many layers of gloss paint, the daun Langkasuka motif and the spirals executed in the tebuk tern bus berukir (fully pierced) technique are still clearly visible.

MASJID AUR MENATJUNG
Pattani, date unknown

Slender, low-relief panels, with flowing foliate spiral designs, are placed over each window flanking the main door. The motifs are strongly Langkasukan in both this and the panel over the main door.

Placed over the main door is a lintel carved in low relief exhibiting the typical notched outline. It lies beneath a panel of fine, fully pierced carving. A lotus is discernible in the circular central image. Bougas notes that the lotus may have replaced Kala/ makara to provide a protective aura (see pages 92-3).

The design of this mosque, with its steep, tiered roof and curved gable ends, has more in common with the traditional houses of Kelantan and Pattani than with conventional places of worship. It is not possible to verify local claims that the mosque is at least 300 years old. However, the style of carving used in the window panels is similar to that found in carvings from 18th-century Kelantan. The steeply inclined three-tiered, long ridge roof (bumbung panjong) is supported by king posts, which can be seen in the mosque's interior. The rear extension is built in the gajah menyusu (suckling elephant) style. The staircase, which has a Chinese ceramic balustrade, is a recent addition, and probably replaced simple wooden steps.

Carved panels above the windows of Masjid Aur Menatjung ail display classic Langkasukan motifs in a variety of compositions.

A panel in low relief within a triangular composition.

Another triangular design, this one fully pierced in the tebuktembus technique.

Circles edged with daun Langkasuka, the one on the left containing a bungaputu, a simple, daisy-like motif, while the one on the right has a stylized bunga tanjung.

The bunga putu motif in the panel above, drawn by Norhaiza Noordin.

A smaller tebuk tembus panel in a triangular pattern. The slightly cruder carving indicates that this might be a later addition.

One of the side windows of Masjid Aur Menatjung. Solid, hewn shutters have notched and shaped elements above and below.

A symmetrical composition of flowing leaves and buds in tebuktembus berukir, found on either side of the mosque adjacent to the mihrab.

MASJID WADI HUSIN
Telok Manok, Pattani, late 18th c.

This ancient mosque is still in superb condition. Architectural details include a minaret tower above the mihrab and a stupa-like form to the jack roof on the main building. The complex roof forms include those commonly known as bumbung panjang (long ridge roof) and bumbung limas (hipped roof) with a concrete roof spine (perabung).

The mouldings and motifs found in the upper roof, posts and crossbeams of Masjid Wadi Husin. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

Decorative flourishes on the corners of the roof of Masjid Wadi Husin are cast in a spiral of foliage. Under the eaves, a series of lotus buah buton are carved in varying stages of maturity: bud, half opened flower and, as in the detail shown, fully opened lotus.

The delicately notched line of the stupa under the eaves is said to echo the outline of the Langkasukan motif.

The central king post of Masjid Wadi Husin supports a massive buah buton carved in the form of an open lotus, echoing those hanging below the eaves outside.

Solid, rectangular panels, slotted into grooved frames, form the walls of Masjid Wadi Husin. Their simplicity is balanced by finely carved panels which admit light and air. A geometric, interlocking swastika design is used on the ventilation panels (sisip angin) over the windows which run right round the mosque. The main window panel below is carved in a braided motif reminiscent of a Celtic knot.

This screen, which separates the main mosque floor from the anteroom, exemplifies a rational placement of panels. Finely carved panels in fully pierced and carved styles are placed above eye level. More austere panels carved with swastika motifs in strict geometric form are set off by plain or simply moulded elements. Further inside the prayer hall, ventilation panels over windows run right around the building to let in both light and air. The design on these panels varies, from abstracted floral motifs to a series of linked swastika. Over these panels, a linear fretted pattern, similar to that used for balustrades, links the walls to roof members.

PINTU GERBANG (ENTRANCE GATE) (AR001)
Kelantan, mid-19th c., cengal wood, brass handles and hinges, 351.5 x 274.5 x 13 cm

Detail of the horizontal panel above the doors of the gateway. Intertwining water plant (kangkung), fully carved and pierced, flow from a central source or urn (punca pasu).

BUAH BUTON (STUPA FINIAL) (AR020)
Kelantan, mid-19th c., cengal wood, 307 x 224 cm

Cubed stupa finials were made for a variety of uses: to disguise or protect raw ends of columns and posts, or to suspend lamps from ceilings. This buah buton is embellished with bunga tempang motifs and finished with lime paint and gilt.

Entrance Gates: Interface between Public and Private Worlds

The pintu gerbang, or entrance gate, served the interface between the public and private worlds of wealthy and powerful Malays. While its primary function was to safeguard the civilized environment of the home, its grand size and ornate embellishment clearly signified status. Only houses belonging to members of royalty, or those close to the court, were permitted to be fenced in, and thus qualify to have such a gateway. The house of the ordinary man had no visibly delineated boundary apart from a handful of coconut or fruit trees planted at the corners of a compound or at the boundaries of a cluster of houses belonging to related families. The very fine gateway shown here marked the entrance to the courtyard of the house built by a Dato' Perdana, or Prime Minister, of Kelantan in the mid-nineteenth century.

Every style of carving is displayed on this gateway. The columns, panelled doors and lower areas have been kept plain, while the massive lines of the columns give an overall impression of strength. The crown (pemeleh), which in the shape of a gunungan or sacred mountain, is carved in the direct piercing technique known locally as tebuk tembus berukir. The upper panels on either side are carved in low relief (tebuk separuh) whereas the horizontal panel above the door is an example of fully pierced, high relief carving (ukiran berlapis). The tiered stupa on the top of each column are known as buah buton and are sculpted by hand in a cubed format. Their placement protects the open top ends of the columns from the weather, and also adds an uplifting grandeur to the gateway.

This pintu gerbang is also a good example of how the Malay woodcarver found inspiration in his surroundings and imbued his work with meaning. The ornately carved gunungan resembles a fan of daun bawang bakong, a type of lily, interwoven with the leaves of two grasses, the ketam guri plant and the hayseed. The lotus (teratai), a symbol of purity, is depicted on the outer side panels. A fan of palm leaves fills the small inner panels, while the superb panel directly over the doorway uses the kangkung motif—a humble waterweed. All these plants would have grown in profusion in the immediate vicinity of both the nobleman's residence, and the carver's workshop. Notably, the door features a brass door handle wrought in the shape of a makara—perhaps an added protection for the inhabitants within.

A view of the upper part of this magnificent gateway.

PEMELEH PINTU (DOOR CROWN) (AR012)
Terengganu, late 20th c., cengal wood, 31 x 101.4 x 8.98 cm

A modern door crown employing the direct piercing technique. The shape follows the natural curve of the piece of wood, exemplifying the carver's ingenuity as he adapted his vision and sketches to the physical limitations of his material. Motifs used include daun ketumbit and a frieze of bunga tanjung. Carved by Norhaiza Noordin.

GUNUNGAN BAKAWALI
Kelantan, mid-19th c., cengal wood, 950 x 1940 x approx. 12 cm

This gunungan-shaped headboard was salvaged from a condemned entrance gateway in Kota Bharu, Kelantan. It features daun bakawali radiating from a central pattern formed of Langkasukan motifs and daun Melayu.

PINTU DAPUR (KITCHEN DOOR)
Kelantan, 18th c., medang wood, 293.8x184.7x10.52 cm

This smaller gateway, which would have guarded the entrance to the women's domain at the rear of a Malay house, features interlaced water plants. The panel above the door has very fine Islamic calligraphy from Surah Al-Kahfi. Fully abstracted sulur bayu form a graceful line at either side of the crown.

Decorative Panels: Controlled Artistry

Malay woodcarving is in many respects a highly formal art. The carving of panels for architectural or other purposes requires the observance of a strict formula that is based on the punca or source. This punca, whether a seed, a flower, water or earth—or even something hidden—dictates the innate flow of the carving. As this pantun confirms, a carving is a reflection of a beginning within the Malay cosmology:

Tumbuh berpunca | Growing from a source
Punca penuh rahsia | A source full of secrets
Tumbuh tidak manenjak kawan | Growing without piercing a friend
Memanjat tidak memaut lawan | Climbing without clinging to a rival
Tetapi melingkar penuh mesra | But intertwining with grace and friendliness

Balance is an important part of these carvings, so symmetry and geometrical patterns were often employed to restrain the fluidity of the vegetative motifs within. Balance is also reflected in the placement of carvings within the composition of walls: more ornate carvings were introduced into the higher reaches of a wall, while the more decorative moulding was reserved for the panels over doors, or sometimes over windows, and particularly for the gable ends where carved window apertures would be juxtaposed in a formal pattern. Much of the wall, and indeed the surfaces of doors and windows, would be left plain, with at most a moulded, raised central area to the panel. However, quite complex linear compositions of vertical columns, crossbeams and panels would be created within the overall shape of the wall.

PANEL (AR041)
Istana Sultan Muhammad Shah, Kelantan, early 19th ccengal wood, 25 x 63 x 2 cm

PANEL (AR042)
Istana Sultan Muhammad Shah, Kelantan, early 19th ccengal wood, 25 x 63 x 2 cm

These two panels are believed to have come from a palace of Sultan Muhammad Shah, Kelantan's ruler at the turn of the 19th century. Each has diamond lozenges of Islamic calligraphy surrounded by daun Langkasuka. The calligraphy on the first reads 'May God bless the family of the Sultan Muhammad Shah of Kelantan', and on the second,'O (God) please let there be found a way out for each of us from our difficulties and troubles.'

Detail of a panel from Masjid Telok Manok, Pattani. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

PANEL (AR009)
Kelantan, 18th c., cengal wood, 26.9 x 62.8 x 2.5 cm

This panel, with ketumbit motifs within a diamond lozenge, provides a link between the stylized Langkasukan motifs of the early panels, and the more vegetative designs of 19th-century carvings.

PANEL (AR038)
Kelantan, late 19th c., cengal wood, 92.31 x 34.62 cm x 2.3 cm

This highly symmetrical panel uses daun and bunga ketumbit motifs in a geometric style typical of late 19th-century Kelantan. Earlier triangular and spiral patterns are still evident in the formality of the design.

PANEL (AR048)
Terengganu, early 19th c., cengal wood, 51.5 x 28 x 3.5 cm

In typical Terengganu style, restraint and symmetry are employed to contain the boyam peroksi leaves emanating from a flower source (punca bunga). On the reverse side is a Jawi inscription describing the panel as Sultan Zainal Abidin's gift to his religious teacher from Seberang Takir.

PANEL (AR008)
Pattani, late 18th c., cengal wood, 84.65 x 33.35 x 2.58 cm

An early example of a fully pierced carving using the daun tar (palm leaf) motif, which also features a fish scale pattern frequently used in old pieces. Such panels often had coloured glass in the centre and were used in internal partitions or as decorative panels in outer walls.

PANEL (AR051)
Kelantan, early 20th c., cengal wood, 51 x 25 x 2.5 cm

A panel with a crocodile egg aperture filled with green glass. The panel displays ketumbit leaf, bud and flower motifs, all originating from a flower source. It was probably part of an internal partition.

PANEL (AR017)
Origin unknown, early 20th c., cengal wood, 25.7 x 53.4 cm x 2.25 cm

This fully pierced carving, with its crocodile egg aperture, uses the bunga kerak nasi motif, with red and gold colouring similar to that on the ceremonial bird, Burung Gagak Sura (see page 114).

PANEL (AR039)
Kelantan, late 19th c., cengal wood, 25.7 x 51.3 cm x 2.5 cm

Carved by a mature, highly skilled craftsman of the late 19th century, the carving in this panel seems to be barely anchored to the frame. From a punca rahsia, bean sprouts and sunflowers emerge and intertwine with the leaves of lilies.

PANEL (AR047)
Terengganu, late 20th c., cengal wood, 30 x 73 x 10 cm

This three-dimensional, fully pierced carving with a punca rahsia (hidden source), was inspired from a 19th-century carving from Kelantan. The deep, four-layer carving of the bayam peraksi motif carries forward and develops designs from early panels that used symmetrical circles and spirals. Features of a hidden Kala are evident within the central elements of the panel. Carved by Norhaiza Noordin.

PANEL (AR046)
Terengganu, late 20th c., cengal wood, 29.5 x 29.5 x 3.5 cm

The symmetry of this small square panel is cleverly broken by the free design of the daun sesayap. Carved by Norhaiza Noordin.

PANEL (ARO 14)
Kelantan, late 19th c., cengal wood, 22.57 x 89.9 x 2.58 cm

The monkey pod (periukkera), a pitcher plant, appears to originate from a punca pasu (urn source) but in fact is believed to be an Egyptian palm. The undulating composition suggests influence from Chinese carvings.

PANEL (ARO 40)
Terengganu, mid-20th c., cengal wood, 39.75x138.5x 3 cm

Che Long, who migrated from Pattani to Besut in Terengganu, is one of the few master carvers whose works have been recorded. His legendary skill is demonstrated in this free creation carved with the confidence of old age. Daun dala, executed in a very natural manner, are connected by an extremely fine tracery of stems. The spiral form of the awan larat is, however, still retained. Che Long's work appears on many major buildings in the Besut region.

ACUAN PUTU (BISCUIT MOULD) (FL020)
Origin and date unknown, halban wood, 46.2 x 15.4 cm x 4 cm

A large, double-sided biscuit mould used only for making ceremonial cakes. One side bears a concealed image of Kala surrounded by the bunga tanjung pattern along the base. On the reverse side are geometrical flower designs.

Wood in the Domestic Setting

The entry of wood, that liminal element, into the world of civilized human beings was an encounter that had to be carefully circumscribed and regulated. The natural element was thought to possess vital natural forces (semangat) that could easily go out of control and thus upset the fragile social balance and harmony of the domesticated urban setting. Wood that was used for daily purposes was therefore necessarily of lesser value and 'weaker' semangat.

Nowhere was this more evident than in the home. Wood was used extensively in the domestic setting. Every household was fully equipped with a complement of utensils and tools that were carved from wood. In the kitchen, for instance, one would find implements such as coconut scrapers (kukuran or kukur kelapa) and biscuit moulds (acuan putu), ladles (gayung) and serving spoons (senduk), betel nut sets (tepak sirih) and lamp stands (pelita), all remarkable not just for their practicality but also for their fine workmanship and embellishment. Book rests (rehal), used especially for reading the Koran, would be found in other parts of the house. Under the house would be stored wooden ploughs, quail traps and various fishing scoops and traps.

In keeping with their humble functions, however—and to minimize the risk involved—these everyday objects were carved from wood of lesser value and, hence, weaker semangat. Such woods included those from trees that commonly grew among the clusters of houses in a village or bordering the rice fields, such as the halban or leban (Vitex spp.) and the cengal (Neobalanocarpus heimii). The broad canvas of nature also provided inspiration to the woodcarver to create certain shapes and motifs. Reinforced by his fertile imagination, his natural skill, and a high level of taste, he was able to express his creativity in embellishing even the humblest of household objects.

Many of the motifs and patterns that are prevalent in these domestic artefacts hark back to a pre-Islamic past, as they are derived from characters from Hindu beliefs and mythology. Most often these motifs are disguised. For instance, the face of Kala is often depicted within a flower or embedded in foliage. Similarly, the makara has evolved into the leaf called daun dewa or daun Langkasuka. However, in older artefacts, these same motifs are remarkably overt and recognizable.

In Hindu mythology, Kala was a disobedient being who had been ordered by Siva to eat himself as a punishment. Fortunately, Siva relented halfway and Kala was established in the pantheon as a guardian figure. His likeness—a truncated head with protuberant eyes, leonine nose, gaping jaws often spewing luxuriant foliage, and occasionally two arms—can be found guarding the entrances of most early temples in Cambodia and Thailand.¹⁸

Knowing the symbolic significance of these motifs, surely it is not purely aesthetic motives that underlie their prevalence in Malay woodcarving. In fact, many of these household implements, for example, biscuit moulds, were actually reserved for ceremonial use. The presence of Kala within a biscuit mould shaped like a female gravestone would have imbued the ritualistic food offering with even greater significance.

Whatever their provenance, it is highly probable that the designs on these objects did not change radically over the centuries. The traditional Malay psyche is conservative; the observance of adat or custom would have ensured that these motifs and patterns were retained for many centuries.

Today, these centuries-old customs have been all but abandoned. While biscuit moulds (acuan putu) are still in use, they are a far cry from the intricately patterned, meaningful and well-made moulds of the past. Rather, these latter-day moulds bear crude representations of modern-day objects like aeroplanes and guns.

Similarly, the coconut scraper (kukuran or kukur kelapa)—once the centrepiece of every Malay kitchen—has all but fallen out of use, particularly in urban centres where it has been supplanted by electrically driven scrapers. Today, the kukuran can be found in use only in the most rural kampung.

The kukuran, however, is highly significant in that it symbolized the importance of the coconut in Malay society. Dubbed 'the tree with a thousand uses', the coconut was indispensable to the traditional Malay way of life. The santan or cream extracted from the scraped coconut kernel is an essential ingredient in Malay cooking. The dried kernel or copra yielded coconut oil, which was also used for cooking. The coconut shell, husk and leaf had numerous uses in and around the home: shells were used as containers; the husk was used to start fires for cooking; and the leaf was woven into all manner of articles, from small packets for steaming rice to baskets and mats. The trunk was used in construction and bridge building.

The kukuran was once a focal point not just of domestic life, but also the community, belying its immediate function as a simple aid for scraping coconut flesh from its shell. It was often elaborately carved with ornate vegetative motifs and, in earlier versions, even with legs and tail. Competitions would be held to judge the most beautiful kukuran.

Many myths and traditions have sprung up around the kukuran, an indication, perhaps, of its centrality to the Malay ethos. For instance, the kukuran takes both male and female forms: the male kukuran is endowed with a male organ. Women, who scraped coconuts sitting 'side-saddle', were not permitted to 'ride' the male kukuran, which were reserved for the use of men, in particular, during preparations for large feasts when many hundreds of coconuts needed to be scraped.

There are also tales about kukuran fights, when men would carry their kukuran in a procession. Then the spirit of the kukuran would be invoked, at which point it is believed that the kukuran would come to life and duel with each other, as in a cock-fight. Legend also has it that if a man found his chosen bride not to his liking, he would employ a bomoh (shaman) to bewitch her family's kukuran so that they would be unable to prepare the wedding feast.

These household objects remain as a testimony to an earlier time when Malay society was far more self-reliant and independent. These communities were able to develop themselves as centres of commerce and industry without being overly dependent on external sources. As such, they also managed to develop a code of aesthetics and art that was uniquely their own, catering to the private and localized concerns of their immediate communities.

Valued today as collectors' items and reminders of an earlier, uncluttered rustic past, these everyday objects for domestic use signify the quiet and unstated triumph of civilization over nature. Jewellery boxes, fishing boxes, tool boxes and such tell the tale of a stable and peaceful era, where individuals lived in peace and security, property was respected and social order was maintained. From book rests (rehal) to lamp stands (pelita), cooking utensils to printing blocks, the repertoire of wooden domestic tools and instruments mark the moment of settled social life among the Malays where the primordial forces of nature have been tamed and kept at bay.

ACUAN PUTU (FL019)
Pattani, early 20th c., halban wood, 16.67 x 11.41 x 3.7 cm

This ceremonial mould demonstrates the intermediate stage of metamorphosis from the gunungan (tree of life) to the leaf shape. Vestiges of the gravestone or pohon budi outline are still evident. Bunga putu rosettes predominate.

This image of Kala, placed as protector over a 9th-century Khmer temple doorway, bears a strong resemblance to the hidden images of Kala found in some Malay artefacts. Later depictions of Kala in Cambodia and Thailand are very different in form and character. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

ACUAN PUTU (FL054)
Pattani, early 20th o, cengal wood, 51.75 x 16 cm x 3.5 cm

A large gravestone or pohon budi-shaped mould used for making ceremonial cakes. The face of Kala is barely discernible in the lower half of the mould.

ACUAN PUTU (FL017)
Kelantan, early 20th c., cengal wood, 45 x 16 x 2.5 cm

This mould would appear to have been carved from a piece of discarded and weathered wood, possibly dictating the unusual leaf shape. There is no visible reference to Kala.

ACUAN PUTU (FL016)
Kelantan, early 20th c., halban wood, 56.5x15x3.8 5 cm

This large ceremonial pohon budi mould is decorated with purely geometric motifs, though the nose-like form in the centre may be a reference to Kala.

ACUAN PUTU (FL051)
Origin unknown, 19th c., halban wood, 38.5 x 7.75 x 3 cm

An early small biscuit mould. Its topmost design echoes the spiral commonly found on the body of keris hilts (hulu tajong). The middle design features bunga putu. Below is an asymmetrical leaf.

ACUANPUTU (FL016)
Pattani, 20th c., wood unknown, 42.25 x 8.5 x 3 cm

This more modern mould uses the vocabulary of the batik artist for the floral patterns, which are lightly incised. The indentation at the bottom contains a simple honeycomb grid.

ACUAN PUTU (FL049)
Origin unknown, early 20th c., cengal wood, 43 x 5.5 x 2.5 cm

A mould for small ceremonial cakes containing eight different, intricately carved designs, including pucukpaku and daun dewa.

Detail of the fourth and fifth indentations in the mould. The fourth indentation features a calligraphic inscription of the opening sentence of the Koran. In a similar fashion to the calligraphy found on the gravestone of Raja Marekah in Pattani (see page 56), the mould must be inverted to read the first line, while the second line is read with the mould held the correct way up. The design on the fifth indentation could be interpreted as a highly abstracted version of Kala.

KUKURAN (COCONUT SCRAPER) (FL005)
Kelantan, early 20th c., halban wood, 8.3 x 74.4 x 13.5 cm

This female scraper is believed to have come from a seaside village, either Kampung Laut, Banggul or Pasir Pekan, villages famous for their cuisine. It might well have been owned by an exceptionally fine cook. Traditionally, good cooks possessed beautiful implements. Bunga kerak nasi and bunga pepulut motifs decorate the body of this female scraper. The underside or 'belly' is carved to resemble scales.

GAYUNG (LADLE) (FL023)
Kelantan, late 20th c., petai belalang wood, coconut shell, 46.2 x 9 x 64 cm

Such ladles, often with exquisitely carved handles, were used primarily to scoop water over one's feet (for both hygienic and religious reasons) before ascending the steps of a house. The water was stored in a clay vessel at the bottom of the steps.

Detail of the underside of the ladle showing bunga ketam guri and daun bayam motifs. The ornamentation follows the natural formation of the coconut shell. Carved by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

A variety of handles suitable for water ladles. The curve of the handle would follow the shape of the wood available. Drawings by Norhaiza Noordin.

KUKURAN (FL007)
Pattani, late 19th c., halban wood, 25.7 x 68 x 15.4 cm

A male scraper of the type used in processions and spirit-induced fights. The leafy motifs on the body are similar to those commonly found in boat carvings, in particular, on the decorative sailguard (bangau). This suggests that the scraper most probably belonged to a fisherman.

KUKURAN (FL008)
Pattani, early 20th c., halban wood, 27 x 69.3 x 11.5 cm

This female scraper has a well-carved neck decoration of palm motifs in low relief, and a large, flowing tail. The original paint is still visible.

KUKURAN (FL009)
Pattani, early 20th c., halban wood, 23.1 x 54 x 12.9 cm

A small scraper with rounded and well-carved legs, the front legs kneel-ing. Tiny red seeds from the saga kenering, and other vegetative motifs, are used to decorate the scraper.

KUKURAN (FL014)
Pattani, date unknown, halban wood, iron scraper, 27 x 61 x 12 cm

This crude and very solid male form displays very obvious genitalia. The carved motifs are generally eroded and worn, but the pintal tali (rope) design on the neck remains evident.

KUKURAN (FL064)
Pattani, early 20th c., nangka wood, iron scraper, brass ring, 17 x 66 x 18 cm

An unusual and very heavy scraper. Direct pierced carvings of powerful Langkasukan motifs fill the entire length of the scraper.

KUKURAN (FL004)
Pattani, early 20th c., nangka wood, 30.8 x 77 x 13 cm

This plainly shaped scraper uses motifs that are more usually associated with batik cloth, although the style of carving is similar to that used on the decorative sailguards common to the area.

JEBAK PUYUH (FL039)
Pattani, 19th c., nangka wood, fern ribs on bamboo frame, buffalo hide trim, 38.6 x 30.8 x 30.8 cm

The gunungan above this trap depicts two naga serpents framing a design of abstract spirals, their heads forming the ends of the sulur bayu. Side panels feature a pattern of bunga tanjung motifs. The cage is made of bamboo and ribu-ribu spines, with a buffalo hide trim around the base. The vertical panels have been replaced by Nik Rashiddin with a lattice of bunga tanjung. The net for trapping birds is missing.

Objects for the Elite: Works of Beauty and Artistry

In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the royal court as well as the households of rich and powerful courtiers provided an environment where artists and craftsinen thrived. The objects produced were perhaps manifestations of the spirit, attitudes and outlook that emerged during periods of relative stability and prosperity.

Objects such as these reflected the more artistic and superfluous concerns that were dominant then. In contrast to the more sober and conservative designs found in everyday objects, luxury items such as musical instruments (rebab, serunai, amongst others), birdcages (sangkar) and bird traps (jebak pujuh), wall hangings and other royal appurtenances were highly ornamental and tell a different story altogether. They speak of a time when the Malay world was comfortable with itself, enjoying a joie de vivre that was the reward for years of toil and strife, where there was opportunity for rivalry between the members of the royal court to own the most beautiful objects. The woodcarvers would have been encouraged by this desire amongst the aristocracy to possess works of art to explore the possibilities of rare materials and embellished design.

These artefacts were created for a people who appreciated beauty and artistry, as well as possessed the leisure to engage in social ritual and customs. In the objects themselves we can also see the philosophy of Malay art and woodcarving at work. Such luxury objects were produced by master carvers who did not fear sudden interruptions in their work. Moreover, their choice of woods was always of the highest quality, often used in combination with other precious materials such as gold, silver, ivory, precious stones and gems. Following the dictates of traditional Malay woodcarving to the letter, it is clear that the objects they produced met the highest standards set by the canon of Malay woodcarving.

Quail Trap: Functional and Artistic Objects

Quail trapping was a particularly popular pastime amongst the aristocracy of the day. The quail trap (jebak puyuh) would contain a tame bird as a lure for its wild fellows. When the quarry alighted on the trap, a system of balances and weights would be triggered and a net would drop on the bird, trapping it safely.

However, these quail traps were more than just utilitarian affairs. Many of them sported superbly carved gunungan, a feature normally only used to give status and distinction to gateways (pintu gerbang) belonging to powerful families, or to the mimbar of important mosques. Precious woods were also employed in the making of these traps. The cage alone was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, woven with great delicacy from various fern ribs and fibres, around slender bars of rotan or nibung. Some examples from the end of the nineteenth century have the spokes of bicycle wheels as cage bars, demonstrating their makers' technological awareness. The front of the cage was further embellished with open-work carvings of motifs such as the naga (serpent), stupa and daun Langkasuka. But the general tenets of carving were still followed, with simpler ornamentation on the lower portions. Inside the cage, beautiful shells were often used as food and water containers for the tame bird, though if a shell were not available any small container would be pressed into service, such as small ceramic cups, and even discarded cosmetic containers.

JEBAK PUYUH (QUAIL TRAP) (FL052)
Kelantan, 19th c., nangka and cengal woods, ribu gajah ribs, leather trim, brass rings, 38.6 x 30.8 x 30.8 cm

The unusual gunungan on this trap features a series of stupa shapes, possibly a representation of Mount Meru, bracketed by sulur bayu. To prepare the trap, the light net at the front, held down by heavy brass rings at either side, is raised (higher than what is shown here). When the wild quail perches on the front step of the cage, its weight triggers the mechanism supporting the net, the rings drop down the sides of the net, and the bird is trapped between the net and the ribs in front of the cage.

Gobek Api: An Early Fire Striker

Another little object no wealthy Malay would be without was his gobek api, with which he lit his rokok daun (tobacco rolled in a leaf) or cheroot. The gobek api was essentially a vacuum pump, devised along the same principle as—albeit possibly predating—the steam engine. Friction within the vacuum chamber from a vigorous pumping action would light a thin wad of thread wound around the pumping spindle. These ingenious devices invariably took the form of the stupa, turned in combinations of wood, ivory, bone, brass and tin.

Handsome Weapons of the Malay World

The culture of the Malays is rich in weaponry, ranging from the elegant and aggressive keris, to equally graceful, smaller forms such as the parang, badek (page 137), anak wali and kelewang. The beauty and craftsmanship of each weapon, variously referred to as daggers, swords, cleavers or simply knives, can lie in the blade, often made of a mixture of irons, the hilt, or the sheath, or a combination of all three.

The parang was originally essentially a large-bladed cleaver used for hacking. It is still widely used as a tool to clear undergrowth and jungle creepers, but is also used for splitting coconuts or wood, for slaughtering animals, even for cutting fish and vegetables. In the late eighteenth century, the parang evolved into a more decorative form to be worn with the handle thrust into the back of a man's sarong, the blade sticking out, as part of formal dress. Ceremonial parang usually have a stupa-styled finial on the handle, sometimes sheathed in silver. One variant, the anak wali, has a more sharply curved blade. Another variant, the kelewang, is more ornate. The blade shape of this weapon is more akin to a scimitar, often with a pronounced and ornamented spike. The handle has a subtle shape which is said to be derived from the form of the makara. Etched and pierced decoration is often found on the blade.

JEBAKPUYUH (FL038)
Kelantan, 19th c., bamboo, buffalo horn, ribu-ribu ribs, bicycle spokes, 33.5 x 31.0 x 23.1 cm

This quail trap, shown from five different angles, belonged to a famous Dato' Perdana or Prime Minister of Kelantan in the mid-19th century. The gunungan is carved from buffalo horn, incorporating distinctive corak garuda berjuang (rampant garuda). The simplicity of the design is belied by the very fine basketwork of the cage. Bicycle spokes form the bars of the cage.

KELEWANG (KW071)
Kelantan, 19th c., celagi wood handle, silver trim, 59.5 x 12.75 x 5 cm

A 19th-century gentleman in Kelantan would wear a kelewang thrust into the back of his sarong, with the blade protruding. The kele-wang shown here features a finely pierced and engraved spike on the elegantly curved blade. The outline of the makara is mirrored in the shape of the handle. The silk cord is a very late addition.

PARANG (KW086)
Kelantan, late 19th c., celagi wood handle, 45 x 10 x 2 cm

This parang has a very wide blade of an unusual, almost bird beak shape with a split in the metal and an octagonal neck. The handle, which is made of celagi (tamarind wood) has a simply turned stupa devoid of ornamentation.

ANAKWALI (KW088)
Pattani, late 18th c., halban wood handle, silver trim, 67.5 x 10x 4 cm

The stupa-shaped handle of this anak wali is trimmed with two silver bands and a silver knob. The neck is octagonal in shape. The blade has a short spike.

ANAKWALI (KW089)
Pattani, late 18th c., halban wood handle, 42 x 11 x 3.5 cm

The curve of this anak wali blade is quite pronounced as is the sharply notched spike (jambul) along the top. The handle is simply turned with a typical stupa finial, without silver trim.

PARANG (KW064)
Kelantan, mid-19th c., celagi wood handle, silver trim, 52 x 11 x4 cm

It is possible here to compare the sickle-shaped blade of the parang with examples of the anak wali above. It has a finely turned stupa-shaped handle banded in silver.

This selection of gobekapi demonstrates the many ways in which the basic stupa shape can be varied.

GOBEKAPI (FIRE STRIKER) (FL041)
Pattani, late 19th c., horn, brass, wood unknown, 19.4 x 1.93 cm

The stopper of this striker is made from the horn of an albino buffalo.

GOBEKAPI (FL042)
Pattani, late 19th c., white brass and horn, 12 x 1.5 cm

An unusual striker, with strips of buffalo horn sandwiched between the turned brass.

GOBEKAPI (FL043)
Pattani, late 19th c., wood unknown, 15.4 x 1.9 cm

A finely turned gobek api with the tip missing.

GOBEK API (FL044)
Pattani, late 19th c., wood unknown, brass trim, 15 x 1.8 cm

A small, simple wooden striker.

REBAB (FL020)
Terengganu, late 19th c., nangka and starfruit woods, leather, 109 x 18 x 9.5 cm

The rebob is a two-or three-stringed instrument of Middle Eastern origin, which is believed to have come to the Malay court with the introduction of Islam. Like most Malay musical instruments, it is carved with extravagant details and brightly painted. It can be dismantled for ease of transportation. The different components of the rebab, as with the Malay house and the hilt and sheath of the keris, are named after parts of the human body. The head of the rebab pictured here features a castellated crown, while a stylized bird or dragon is carved on the bow. Wood from the jackfruit and starfruit trees were preferred for making musical instruments because they were considered to give extra resonance and to convey spirituality.

GONG FRAME (FL060)
Kelantan, late 20th c., cengal wood, 132.5 x 30 x 5 cm

The top bar of a frame for holding a large gong, part of a traditional Malay orchestra. The top bar normally rests on two side pillars set on sturdy bases. The gong is suspended in the middle. The form is similar to that used for door or gateway decoration and, like them, has influenced the style of decoration. Robust awon larat spirals form the upward-curving end pieces (sulur bayu).Jhe central tip of the bar is missing. Carved by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

TEPAK SIRIH (BETEL NUT SET)(FL027)
Pattani early 19th c., ketengga wood, brass pots, steel betel cutter, 10.25 x 23.1 x 10.28 cm

The beautiful grain and finish of this box indicate a royal provenance. The grain of the wood has been finely polished. The four brass pots with stupa-shaped lids hold sliced betel nuts and other spices; the fifth pot, cylindrical in shape, is for lime paste (kapur). Lime is spread on the betel leaf before the other ingredients are added and the quid wrapped and popped into the mouth where is it held in one cheek. Throughout the Malay world, the betel nut or sirih was—and still is by older folk—chewed both for relaxation and as an occasion for social intercourse. Betel nut sets were a part of practically every Malay household. These sets range from very simply turned wooden bowls to ornately finished boxes.

REHAL (BOOK REST) (RT003)
Kelantan, late 18th c., medang hitam wood, 41.1 x 20.5 x 20.5 cm

Book rests of this type were almost always used to support the Koran and give it due reverence. The poor would use simple, uncarved stands. This example has been carved with Langkasukan motifs using the direct piercing technique. It is made from a single plank of wood, partially split, leaving the central section from which a hinge is cut out. Decorative carving is normally placed on the lower section as the Koran is laid on the upper V-shaped surface. Medang hitam wood was frequently used, as it was considered a spiritual wood.

REHAL (RT020)
Kelantan, late 18th c., wood unknown, 43 x 22 x 18 cm

A plainer, possibly earlier example with simple but clear Langkasukan motifs forming a stupa outline cut into the support.

MAKARA (RT009)
Pattani, date unknown, nangka wood, 159.1 x 105.2 x 61.6 cm

This large artefact (see also page 54) is the head of a horned makara, which would have been attached to a bamboo palanquin used to bear the sons of village notables to their circumcision ceremony. White gloss paint had been thickly applied to the delicate fretted crest and head of the makara, perhaps to mask the Hindu-inspired colours of the original paint-work. The trunk is cleverly jointed, and held together by straps formed from pieces of tin. Very few of these artefacts have survived.

The Sea and Mythology

Fishing has always been an important economic activity along the east coast of Peninsular Malaysia even though it is an occupation fraught with dangers: the treacherous, exposed waters of the South China Sea, with their powerful undertows and often vicious, unpredictable storms, offer no protection to those who eke out a livelihood by fishing. In addition to the physical dangers, it has long been believed that east coast fishermen also faced the supernatural malevolence of sea spirits, who were constantly trying to send seafarers to their doom. The possibility of disaster heralding every fishing excursion therefore necessitated a spectrum of safeguards.

The perahu, the traditional fishing boat of the east coast, is an elegant vessel decorated with three-dimensional carvings and brightly coloured paint. The focal points of the perahu are the bangau, okok and caping. The bangau, a long-necked decorative guard placed on the port side of the perahu, appears to literally grow out of the body of the boat, stretching into space. Together with its counterbalance, the shorter okok, it lies across the bow, attached to the keel with the aid of a caping. The caping, which is used as a navigational aid in the same way as the sight on a rifle, stands vertically in the bow of the boat. Although the bangau functions ostensibly as a rest for the sails and fishing nets of the perahu when not in use, and the okok as a prop to secure the anchor, the intricate carvings on all three objects suggest that their significance goes beyond the utilitarian, and extends into the supernatural—as talismans to appease the malicious spirits and to invoke the protection of benign spirits.

The form most commonly found on the bangau is the makara, a mythological sea monster originating in Hindu mythology, where it was believed to be the mount of Varuna, the builder of the Cosmos and guardian of the Final Gate, as well as of Ganga, goddess of the Ganges River. Associated thus with water and with providing protection, it also symbolized fertility. The makara is variously described as having the trunk of an elephant, the horns of a goat, the tusks of a wild boar, the body of a crocodile and the tail of a fish. In perahu of the east coast, the bangau most often resembles the head of the makara with its trunk tucked back into its mouth. Its long, sinuous neck has also often been likened to that of the heron or bangau, which was believed to ensure good catches, hence the name. Its likeness on the perahu played an undoubtedly important role in bringing peace of mind to the east coast fisherman. Other common motifs on bangau were derived from characters in the shadow puppet theatre. But behind these, the outline of the makara can still be discerned.

The significance of the makara in the cosmology of the Kelantan—Pattani region is evident from its widespread application. Regarded as a vehicle of the gods, the makara featured prominently in ceremonial boats and in the processional vehicles used in circumcision rites, although it was particularly associated with boats and the sea due to its affinity with water. Apart from the full head of the makara head itself, a motif representing the head is commonly rendered as tendrils or leaves in virtually all forms of woodcarving from the Kelantan—Pattani region. For example, part of the makara outline is used to shape bargeboards (pemeleh pintu), door and window lintels and sills in the Malay house. It is also found as a door handle for entrance gates (pintu gerbang) and on the hilt (hulu) of the kelewang and badek. The motif may possibly have been incorporated into the sulur bayu, the uplifted wings which feature on many gunungan, pemeleh pintu and other carvings from the area.

Two variations on the makara. Drawing on left by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein; drawing above by Norhaiza Noordin.

There is a very strong connection between the images of the Wayang Kulit (shadow puppet theatre) and many of the motifs in woodcarving. This tree of life (pohon budi) (see full figure page 21) shows a clear representation of a makara. From the collection of master puppeteer Pak Dollah of Kelantan. Photograph by William Harald-Wong.

A typical perahu of the east coast of Peninsular Malaysia in the 1950s, clearly showing the bangau carved in the shape of a makara, with its head back and snout curled into its mouth. The shorter opposing okok, with its gaping jaws, is also an obvious depiction of the mythological creature. The bangau of a boat was so highly valued that during the monsoon months of inactivity, it was removed from the perahu and brought back to the fisherman's compound for safekeeping. Photograph reproduced by permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library.

A bangau, in the shape of a makara, clearly supports the mast in this small perahu. The caping is in the form of a post. Photograph reproduced by permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library.

BANGAU AND OKOK PERAHU (FL045)
Pattani, early 18th c., cengal wood, 1270 x1200 x500 cm

This well-preserved bangau and okok are embellished with floral motifs and daun jari buaya in low relief. The ends are pierced. While the outline of the bangau is carved in the shape of a stylized representation of the makara, the okok resembles a burung kakaktua (cockatoo), possibly to symbolize speed.

In this bangau, decorated with daun jari buaya, the trunk of the makara is curled back into its open mouth. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

Bangau and okok carved to resemble Wayang Kulit puppets. Drawings by Norhaiza Noordin.

CARVING ON PROW (FL047)
Pattani, mid-19th c., medang hitam wood, 128.3 x 15.39 x 3.85 cm

This three-dimensional, fully pierced carving was originally an ornamental element on the inside of the prow of a fishing boat belonging to Nik Rashiddin's relatives in Pattani. Key motifs include daunjari buaya and daun ketumbit. Medang hitam, a light wood, was chosen for its buoyancy.

CEPU KE LAUT (FISHERMAN'S FOOD BOX) (FL033)
Pattani, mid-19th c., medang hitam wood, 24.36 x diam. 35.9 cm

Simple turned containers such as this, lined with a banana leaf, would hold a simple meal of rice, with perhaps a small dish of dried fish or squid in a spicy sauce. A rope handle, attached through the holes in the base, was used to carry the box and to secure the tight-fitting lid.

CAPING PERAHU (FL034)
Terengganu, late 18th c., cengal wood, 119.25x35.9 cm

The shape of this caping perahu resembles that of the little silver modesty disc, also called a caping, that pre-adolescent girls and boys wore to cover their pudenda. In the perahu, it fits exactly into the steeply curved bows of the boat, serving both to anchor the bangau and to act as a very precise navigational aid when lined up with the prow of the boat.

Fisherman's Tools: Visible Expressions of Art

The tools of a fisherman, in particular his hooks and lines, along with his emergency rations and the all-important talismans, were carried during fishing expeditions in a special box (kotak ke laut). Carved from a single block of wood, this watertight box contained lidded drawers with compartments of varying sizes for storing the necessary items. A fisherman would never set sail without his box. The buoyant kotak ke laut would act as a life preserver if the boat went down, while everything he needed for survival was contained within it.

The fisherman would bring his food for the day in a cepu ke laut, a circular, turned wooden bowl, with a tight-fitting, concave cover secured by a rope or a piece of wire. This item was also carved from a solid piece of light wood, such as nangka (jackfruit, Artocarpus heterophyllus) or angsana (Pterocarpus indicus).

KOTAK KE LAUT (FISHERMAN'S TOOL BOX) (FL015)
Kelantan, early 20th c., nangka wood, wire handles, 16.7 x 41 x 18 cm

A seahorse pattern (corak undukunduk) is carved on the sliding lid of the upper drawer while a rope pattern rings the hole on the lower drawer. The shapes of the apertures in the drawers echo those used for lintels of doorways and windows.

KOTAK KE LAUT (FL010)
Kelantan, early 20th c., angsana wood, rope handles, 16.7 x 38.5 x 16.7 cm

Although tool boxes are utilitarian articles hewn from a solid piece of wood, the insides often conceal beautiful carvings. The drawers open from either end. Sometimes buffalo horn is used in a diamond shape to embellish the handles. Carved partitions inside the watertight drawers feature Langkasukan motifs.

BURUNGGAGAKSURA (CEREMONIAL BIRD) (RT007)
Pattani, early 18th c., angsana wood, 143.6 x 84.7 x 36 cm

Ceremonial birds were used on royal occasions, such as during the proclamation of the heir to the throne, for welcoming royal visitors and for circumcision ceremonies. When in use, the bird's head and tail would be fixed to a rattan or bamboo 'body', complete with huge, outspread wings and sturdy legs, all covered with richly ornamented velvet or silk. Up to 100 men were needed to carry the bird in procession. The concept for such vehicles originated from pre-lslamic beliefs in which these mythological creatures were the vehicles of the gods. When not in use, the burung was kept in its own room. A courtier was appointed to look after it and conduct rituals aimed at preserving its powerful spirit. The head of this particular bird is a fully sculpted carving (ukiran area) decorated with the bunga kerak nasi motif. The reddish colour comes from a lime-based paint. Mirrors attached with a lead underlay provide further adornment. Even the tongue is a carved element. Hanging freely in the beak, it would clack resonantly as the bird moved forward. The last time such a ceremonial bird was used, with the name Burung Petala lndra, was in 1933 during a royal circumcision ceremony in Kelantan (see pages 116-17). Other names for the ceremonial bird include Merak Mas, Garuda and Burung Singa.

TAIL OF BURUNG GAGAKSURA (RT008)
Pattani, early 18th c., angsana wood, 193 x 62 x 25 cm

The tail of the bird is a three-dimensional, fully pierced carving (tebuk tembus berukir) with both bunga kerak nasi and daun kerak nasi motifs, the details of which differ subtly from each other.

Procession for the circumcision of royal princes in Kota Bharu in 1933. This ceremonial bird was called Burung Petala Indra. Photograph by Raja Sri Akar, published with the kind permission of his heirs.

Burung Petala Indra: Winged Steed of Hindu Mythology

One of the most astonishing products of Malay visual art were the carved garuda-like birds used in the manner of a chariot on important royal occasions. The one shown here, and described below by Mubin Sheppard, was used to bear the eldest son of the Sultan of Kelantan after the ceremony of his circumcision in 1933.¹⁹ This sacred garuda bird, called Jatayu or Jentayu, appears in one of the two great Hindu epics of India, the Ramayana:

'The winged steed of Hindu mythology moved slowly along the broadest street in the Kelantan capital. The sun extracted the ultimate reserve of perspiration from more than one hundred carriers, men of powerful physique who had been hand-picked by the headmen of a score of hamlets for this arduous privilege. Every foot of space on each side of the bird's broad portable base was crowded almost to suffocation with festival-minded humanity.

'Towering above them, not an inch under 20 feet, an imperious head, with tusked beak of gold and ivory, jewelled plumes and neck feathers of multi-coloured velvet and silk seemed to be floodlit by the mid-morning sun. Just behind the arched neck, a two-tiered canopy supported on painted wooden posts provided a shaded platform 10 feet square for a 12-year-old prince, two of his younger brothers and the senior religious officials in the state. The wings, rainbow hued and glistening with tinsel paper, stretched over the heads of the public and together covered a span of 20 feet.

'The prince, a sturdily built boy, was invisible to the multitude, but his suit was elaborately interwoven with gold thread, a triple gold pendant hung on his chest, a gold buckle held his waist cloth in position and he wore six gold bracelets and a gold and jeweled coronet.

'Court officials had devoted many days and nights to the planning of the procession which now stretched to the limit of visibility in both directions. Court tailors had toiled to cut and sew more than 300 suits of Malay uniforms for the spearmen who wore black, the candlestick bearers who wore red, the riflemen in black who fired volleys of blank ammunition at intervals as they moved forward, and the women, many of whom wore yellow shoulder cloths and also carried pedestal trays of ceremonial rice. Smaller groups of men, also in court uniform, carried items of the royal regalia—keris (daggers) and swords, and still other groups of women carried a royal betel box, an incense burner, a silver water container and a variety of decorative objects from the palace.

'The air was loaded with a medley of sounds in which the voices of men lustily chanting Arab verses competed with the instruments of five separate Malay orchestras, the deep percussion of giant Kelantan drums and the shrill dialogue of actors and actresses who continued their performances of ma'yong and manora (dance dramas) as the procession moved slowly forward Light portable shelters shaded the players from the sun, and court dancers in the distinctive costumes of asek and joget (dancing) troupes were carried on low-shaded platforms, on which they stood in poised elegance, but did not dance. All these and many other diversions were integrated into the framework of the cavalcade and moved ahead of the imperious bird. Only the great Kelantan drums—rebana besar—followed immediately behind.

'... This vast celebration, which continued for a month, and of which the procession was the climax, marked the circumcision of the Raja Muda's 12-year-old son, and would certainly eclipse the wedding ceremonies and festivities which might be expected to follow in about five or six years.

The event briefly described above took place in 1933. It has not since been repeated and is unlikely ever to be seen again....'

A ceremonial bird in procession in Pattani. Date and photographer unknown. Reproduced by permission of Dr Anan Wattanikorn, Prince of Songkhla University, Pattani.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG (KW077)
Kelantan, early 18th c., kemuning wood, gold and bronze inlay, 9.5 x 13.5 x 4 cm

This keris tajong, considered a warrior's keris (keris pahlawan), was designed for a royal courtier. Carved to enhance the grain of the wood, the hilt is decorated with Langkasukan motifs in an abstract geometric design. The tips of the nose and tusks are inlaid with bronze. The crown is gilded using fish egg (telurikan) motifs. The keris has a simple cup (pendokok) in polished brass below a rounded base (buah pinang) incised with a lotus pattern. The crosspiece (sampir) on the sheath takes the shape of the perahu Pattani, the traditional Pattani fishing boat. (See pages 168-9 for the names of keris elements.)

The Keris: Pinnacle ofthe Woodcarver's Art

In most cultures, stone carvings and bronze sculptures are the usual reference points or signposts for the motifs of a culture. In this region, however, such hardy monuments are extremely rare, if present at all. Mostly fashioned from wood, virtually all the artistic creations of early civilizations have rotted away or been destroyed by fire, flood or invasion. One object, however, survived the depredations that other arte-facts suffered. Easy to conceal and transport because of its small size, the keris, the traditional weapon of the Malay world, became central to early Malay life and synonymous with its culture. From earliest times, it was regarded as more than a weapon (keris lambang pahlawan). It was both spiritual guardian of its owner (keris pusaka) and symbol of power and status (keris pakaian khas). A keris could endow a warrior with inhuman strength and could also be sent as a token of his authority. A sultan would send his keris with his emissaries to ensure that they were respected, and his orders obeyed. A keris was so closely associated with its possessor, that a marriage could also be solemnized, with the keris standing proxy for its owner. It is not surprising, then, that Malay woodcarving reaches its peak in the hilt (hulu keris) of the keris. In the development of the Malay hilt, we can chart the cultural, philosophical and socio-religious evolution of the Malays as a people.

The making of a keris was not to be undertaken lightly. A keris would be intimately linked to its owner and his family for generations. Thus the woodcarver would spend months, if not years, preparing himself and his materials before beginning his task. The wood destined for hilts would be kept in the rumah padi, where the seed rice was stored, to ensure it retained its spirituality. The design would be specifically chosen to suit the standing and character of the first owner. It would also be fabricated from the best materials available, and decorated with designs that connoted strength and prestige—designs that have been passed down through the ages, subtly altered by each new influence, yet always retaining their original essence.

In the lower part of this drawing is a detail of the tajong spiral, found on the side of almost all tajong hilts. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

Study for a keris hilt which clearly illustrates the elongated head and sharply bent angle of the body that characterizes the kerdas form of hilt. This type of hilt is derived from the Bugis keris, and is normally sheathed in a short, strong rather thick scabbard (see page 134). Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

The four hilts shown on these pages demonstrate the evolution of the tajong over several hundred years.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG 1 (KW014)
Pattani, pre-18th c., kemuning wood, 6.6 x 11.1 x 3.6 cm

This is a very early piece with a flat head known as hulu keris coteng, from Ligor, Pattani. It possesses strongly carved features: simple yet realistic arms, legs and face, with no beard and minimal crest. The tajong spiral is sharply incised, as are the Langkasukan motifs on the cheeks. The lightly tilted nose is not decorated. Simple lotus petals are carved on the buah pinang. The pendokok is of beaten bronze. The unusual sheath (not shown) can be taken apart, and is fastened by a metal band.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG 2 (KW013)
Pattani, late 18th c., kemuning wood, 8.5 x 10.5 x 4.0 cm

This style of keris tajong is often referred to as a hulu bangsa agung. The form is more robust, though still simple. The beard gives the hilt a squarer look. Teeth are bared in a fierce grin. The stylization of Langkasukan motifs is still strongly linked to the makara, with a simply adorned spiral.

Keris Tajong: Malay Weapon of the East Coast

The most important keris form to originate in the Kelantan—Terengganu—Pattani region is the tajong. The keris tajong has, in fact, become synonymous with this region, though examples of similar hilts are occasionally found elsewhere in the Malay world.

The hulu or hilt of the tajong was originally a carved representation of the Hindu god Siva, adapted in a fashion similar to his characterization in the Wayang Kulit shadow puppet theatre. The earliest form of the tajong found to date, possibly from the seventeenth century, is the hulu keris coteng which has a simple, fairly flat head with elongated nose, and clearly defined arms and legs on the body. The arms sometimes appear to be carrying a waisted drum, which would appear to be a damaru, one of Siva's favourite attributes. The body also bears a specific spiral motif—which Nik Rashiddin and Norhaiza Noordin have named the tajong spiral—that clearly echoes the Langkasukan motif, with its distinctive outline of the makara, very similar in style to that used in the early gravestone carvings in Pattani, Kelantan and Terengganu. The eyes bulge, still highly reminiscent of Indian images, and the teeth are clearly shown in an aggressive grimace. At the back of the head, a pyramidal shape symbolizes the mungcung garuda—a protective amulet worn by deities and kings.

Through the centuries, with changing worldviews and, in particular, conversion to the Islamic faith, these features were gradually subsumed by floral and vegetative decoration. The nose became longer and adopted a marked tilt at the tip, which echoed the lines of its sampir, or scabbard crosspiece. The tajong, in fact, got its name from its distinctive sampir, which resembled the uplifted, winged shape of a Pattani fishing vessel of that name. First a beard, and then more elaborate facial features with fangs and decorative eyelashes appeared.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG 3 (KW012)
Pattani, early 19th c., kemuning wood, 8 x 11.2 x 3.7 cm

Here the legs are abstracted, the toes just visible. The beard is more elaborate and the protruding eyes are finely carved, with a subtly curved nose. The spiral has also evolved, its outlines softened by foliage and pintaltali. The hands are in a Hindu-Buddhist meditative pose. The arms appear to be holding a drum (damaru), a typical attribute of the Hindu god Siva who was often depicted playing a drum.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG 4 (KW011)
Kelantan, 19th c., kemuning wood, 9 x 13.8 x 3.7 cm

A typical Kelantanese stylization of a keris tajong with the arms and legs totally absorbed into a more solid form. The square head and angular planes lend an aggressive expression. Motifs are almost free of early allusions; even the omnipresent spiral is only just discernible through inter-weaving daun Melayu.

As the hulu tajong evolved, and Islamic tenets became more accepted, at some time during the nineteenth century the arms and, in particular, the legs became vestigial and eventually disappeared, though it is possible to find specimens where the vestigal hands seem to be holding a Hindu—Buddhist mudra, or meditative pose. The crown and head became squarer and more robust, giving the woodcarver an opportunity for some consummate artistry in carving and decoration, the latter often extending to gold or bronze inlays and finely curled hair. The teeth, with fearsome fangs, and the protruding eyes usually carved with three eyelids and eyelashes, remained clearly shown. The tajong spiral, though often almost hidden under the welter of foliage, continued to underlie the design of the body, and the pyramid symbolizing the mungcung garuda was always present. But within these parameters, the range of expression, the decoration and motifs used, the play of angles and form has been found to be almost limitless.

Today the keris tajong is found in the regalia of almost all the royal families of Malaysia, reflecting the esteem with which it is held in Malay culture. It is also considered one of the most powerful keris hilts, being known as the warrior's keris.

Since the 1930s, the tajong has often been confused with the perkaka. This error can be traced back to G. B. Gardner, who referred to a tajong as a pekakak in his book.²⁰ The true perkaka evolved from the jawa demam, with a larger and straighter beak as illustrated on page 133, and is often carved from a material such as clamshell, whale tooth or walrus ivory.

A comparison of the evolving shapes of the keris tajong. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

HILT, KERISTAJONG (KW061)
Kelantan, late 20th c., ivory hilt, kemuning wood crosspiece, angsana wood shaft, 606 x 165 x 13 cm

A modern keris tajong made from the ivory of domesticated elephants working in Kelantan's forests. The straight nose has a sharp tilt at the tip. Motifs include a highly decorated tajong spiral on the body, sulur kacang along the nose, pucukpaku on the cheeks and daun Langkasuka on the crown. Incised carving on the crosspiece symbolizes the third eye of Siva. The pendokok is gilded with fish egg decoration. The 19th-century blade is forged in the style of Pandai Saras, named after a famous early keris forger in Pattani, Tok Saras. Carved by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG (KW074)
Origin unknown, early 19th c., kemuning wood, 9.5 x 13.5 x 4 cm

The masterful carving on this hilt includes a Langkasukan tajong spiral, with daun ketumbit and sulur daun sesayap eyelashes. The head is thrust forward aggressively, with the open mouth grimacing expectantly.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG (KW016)
Origin unknown, early 19th c., setar wood, 9.3 x 13.5 x 4.2 cm

This hilt, carved by a highly skilled craftsman, displays less traditional and more decorative designs. There is a geometric motif on the cheeks and daun ketumbit on the body. The chin is pulled back, the nose is uptilted. There is a sharply angled mung-cung garuda. The crest and beard are carved in simple flowing forms giving an impression of speed. The open mouth almost seems to smile.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG (KW075)
Pattani, pre-18th c., kenaung wood, 10 x 13.5 x 4.2 cm

This hilt once had a bronze tip to the nose, and round the buah pinang. The carving is very fine, and includes bunga tanjung on the cheeks. The spiral on the body has been almost completely overlaid with daun sesayap. The eyes and cheekbones are inlaid with bronze.

The four hilts shown on these two pages illustrate the development of motifs.

HILT, KERISTAJONG MOTIF 1 (KW055)
Pattani, pre-18th c., kemuning wood, 7 x 11 x 3.8 cm

A very early example with a flat and simple outline, no beard and a shorter nose. The head stretches forward, with the spiral strongly carved in the Langkasukan pattern with sulur kacang carved on the cheeks. The eyes each have a triple eyelid, with simply incised decorative eyelashes. The arm appears to hold a damaru, but the hand has been replaced by a spiral. The feet have vestigial toes.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG MOTIF 2 (KW092)
Kelantan, early 19th c., kemuning wood, 9 x 12.5 x 4 cm

This slightly later example also has clear Langkasukan details on the body. The head is stretched out and aggressive. A multitude of tiny spirals are carved on the head, cheeks and chin to represent hair. There is a simple, clear tajong spiral on the body.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG MOTIF 3 (KW091)
Pattani, late 19th c., kemuning wood, 8 x 5 x 4.5 cm

An interesting piece with apparently unfinished teeth and carvings on the cheeks and back. The head is pulled back and the nose gently curved to give a powerful and restrained feel to the carving. Leaves have evolved into dauh Melayu without notches or spirals. A tajong spiral, however is still apparent on the body, disguised with floral decoration.

HILT, KERIS TAJONG MOTIF 4 (KW093)
Pattani, early 19th c., kemuning wood, 9 x 13.5 x 4 cm

This highly decorated example has almost lost the depiction of arms and legs. Teeth are parted in a fierce grimace, and the exaggerated tilt to the nose and head add to the aggressive expression. The Langkasukan tajong spiral on the body is almost totally overlaid by daun sesayap and pucukpaku.

Seen from the front, the hands are clearly depicted as spirals, positioned in a meditative stance.

The plain pyramid visible below the crest represents the mungcung garuda. On the buah pinang is a simple treatment of the lotus.

From the top it is possible to see the carved detail on the crest, with the garuda symbol below.

The Hilt: Pre-lslamic Forms

During the early pre-lslamic era, the keris had already evolved a complex cult of its own, and its production and care had led to the development of a highly refined and complicated maze of rituals and beliefs that bordered on the pseudo-religious.

Most of the early keris handles clearly show the influence of the pre-lslamic faiths on the hearts and minds of the Malay people then, with many hilts being carved in the form of Hindu—Buddhist or animist gods, heroes or demons. The figures of Siva, Vishnu, Ganesh, Garuda, Bima and Arjuna are often seen on old hilts. Vishnu, especially, as the paramount god in the pantheon, held an important place in most of Indianized Asia. Regardless of which deity held sway in the various woodcarving traditions of the Malay Peninsula, with the coming of Islam the once vivid features on the hulu keris became abstracted into more acceptable forms. The evolution of more Islamized hilts involved a semantic revision whereby these early hilts were given more Islamic (or at least acceptable) names and identities. The sculpted figures of the gods and demons of the past became hidden under a carpet of arabesques, floral tapestries and geometric patterns. The figure of the dewa or garuda was modified to the extent that it finally took on the form of a crouching/squatting humanoid figure with its wings effaced altogether, known as the Jawa demam (feverish Javanese) or anak ayam (chick). In Kelantan, this is also called the sejuk (lit. cold) style. Some hilt variations became reduced to totally abstract geometric forms, almost modern in their conception and execution, such as the kerdas or pipit teleng forms. In others, a faint trace of the Hindu—Buddhist past of the ancient gods could still be seen.

This series of photographs illustrates the development of the keris hilt as the depiction of deities from the Hindu pantheon.

HILT, KERIS PANJANG (KW039)
Pattani, late 19th c., kemuning wood, 9 x 5.5 x 3.8 cm

This flattened and octagonal knob-like shape evolved from the beehive crown of Vishnu. The demonic features are more in keeping with Kala than Vishnu. The figure is seated on a lotus flower with rounded petals. Fine bunga kenango are carved on the top of the head and daun Melayu around the body.

HILT, KERIS SRIVIJAYA (KW045)
Sumatra, pre-18th c., kenaung wood, 9 x 5 x 3.3 cm

This is the hilt of a ceremonial keris carved in the traditional style known as Srivijaya. The head on the pronounced beehive shape is tilted as if in prayer or meditation. The facial features are abstracted. Fully pierced carving includes lotus flowers in an intricate lattice.

HILT, KERIS PANJANG (KW079)
Sumatra, mid-19th c., kemuning wood, 8.5 x 5.6 x 2.8 cm

This well-worn hilt is decorated with a subtle composition of Langkasukan motifs drawn within lotus petals. The overall shape is traditionally used to allude to Vishnu, here with the head bowed in meditation. A split in the hilt has been neatly riveted together.

HILT, KERIS PANJANG (KW078)
Pattani, early 20th c., kemuning wood, 8.5 x 5.6 x 2.8 cm

The carving of this hilt is more abstracted and simplified. A tampuk manggis, the pedicel of a mangosteen fruit, is carved on top of the head. Daun Melayu are carved in simple, low relief around the body; on the buah pinang is a suggestion of lotus petals.

HILT, KERIS PANJANG (KW042)
Kelantan, early 20th c., kemuning wood, 8.5 x 5.6 x 2.8 cm

Abstraction is taken further on this hilt to produce a very subtle outline, with the buah pinang hardly outlined. The overall effect relies on the beauty of the wood and a gently curved silhouette. The flower on top of the bowed head is called bunga tikam seladang.

HILT, KERIS PANJANG (KW080)
Sumatra, pre-19th c., kenaung wood, 8.1 x 5 x 4 cm

This hilt captures the transition from a pure dewa/Vishnu form to a more evolved and abstracted sejuk form. The carving is highly decorative, with geometric motifs on the back. Langkasukan motifs are still in place on the breast, and simplified bunga and daun Melayu on the shoulders. The buah pinang has been wrapped in brass, possibly to strengthen it.

HILT, KERIS JAWA DEMAM (KW095)
Pattani, pre-19th c., kenaung wood, 8.5 x 6.5 x 5 cm

The strongly tilted head of this hilt has daun Melayu carved in a style similar to that used in decorative architectural panels. The natural wood grain is enhanced by being left plain on the shoulder and arm. Silver has been wrapped around the buah pinang to mend a crack probably caused by a rusty blade spike, and this is ornamented with Cambodian rubies.

HILT, KERIS JAWA DEMAM (KW094)
Pattani, pre-19th c., wood unknown, 7.75 x 5.5 x 4 cm

Keris of this type were worn by actresses performing the Mak Yong. This well-worn piece has silver and mother-of-pearl inlay. The form is Jawa demam with vestigial arms. The face is discernible. Daun Melayu are carved on the body and lotus petals on the buah pinang.

HILT, KERIS JAWA DEMAM (KW081)
Pattani, 18th c., kenaung wood, 6.75 x 10 x 4 cm

The fluid carving on this hilt features waves above the pendokok, with finely crafted geometrical motifs on the body. Ketumbit flowers and leaves are used in asymmetrical fashion. Uncarved portions have been retain-ed to give fluidity and line to the form, displaying the grain of this very special wood, whose fibres when pounded and drunk, or applied to a wound, have the ability to ease scorpion bites.

HILT, KERIS JAWA DEMAM (KW096)
Pattani, mid-19th c., whale's tooth, 7.75 x 7 x 4 cm

The techniques used here to carve a whale's tooth hilt in the Jawa demam style are those normally found on tajong hilts. The perforated crown, teeth, scaly chin and pucukpaku around the buah pinang have been engraved with great artistry and skill.

KERIS KERDAS PATTANI (KW102)
Pattani, early 19th c., kemuning wood hilt; ketengga, angsana and kemuning wood sheath, 50 x 8.5 x 10 cm

The beauty of the kemuning wood grain has been amplified by the simple lines of this hilt. The blade (not shown), which has five undulations (/o/c), has a gilded brass top (aring) moulded with bunga Melayu, indicating that the keris once belonged to a royal courtier.

KERIS PANJANG (KW107)
Kelantan, late 20th c., ivory hilt, kemuning wood crosspiece and base, angsana wood shaft, 76 x 15 x 5.5 cm

This ceremonial keris is of the type carried by sultans as a symbol of their power. A lotus is carved on the head of the hilt, in the fully abstracted Vishnu form. The crosspiece is subtly shaped—a Kelantan adaptation of the Sumatran style—with a finely incised decoration along the lower edge. The blade, of the type previously used for executions, is long and straight. Carved by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

HILT, KERIS PERKAKA PATTANI (KW101)
Pattani, early 19th c., walrus tooth, 52 x 18 x 9.5 cm

Here is a true example of a hulu perkoka, similar in form to the kerdas but with a simply carved and elongated beak and vertical crest spike. The hands are positioned as if in Islamic prayer. The unusual ring-shaped pendokok is made of moulded brass with bunga tanjung motifs.

HILT, KERIS JAWA DEMAM (KW082)
Pattani, date unknown, kemuning wood, 7.5x9.75x 4 cm

This simply decorated carving shows the pure form of the Jowa demam or sejuk style from Pattani. The wood grain has been given prominence by the simplicity of the form. The features are minimized but, at the same time, slightly exaggerated. The head fin is tilted at an unusual angle.

Studies for a hulu perkaka. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

Hulu kens panjang and hulu sejuk from a private collection in England, showing the decorative details on the body and shoulder. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

HILT, KERIS PIPIT TELING (KW097)
Terengganu, late 20th c., kemuning wood, 49 x 14.5 x 6.5 cm

The pipit teling form, with its squarely angled head and longer neck, is characteristic of keris originating from Terengganu. Motifs used include daun Langkasuka and daun sesayap on the body and ekormerak (peacock's tail) on the top of the head. The pendokok is also decorated with daun sesayap. A nine-/o/c blade (not shown) has been forged with a fine pamor. The crosspiece of the sheath has been fashioned to make full use of the fine grain of the kemuning wood. Carved by Norhaiza Noordin.

HILT, KERIS BUGIS (KW098)
Terengganu, late 20th c., kemuning wood, 18.9 x 6 x 6.8 cm

Motifs on this hilt, carved in the kerdas style, include bunga sesayap, with bunga tanjung on the cheek. A Langkasukan spiral pattern is carved on the body and a tampuk manggis on the fin. The pendokok is decorated with gilded telur ikan. Carved by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

HILT, KERIS JAWA DEMAM (KW084)
Pattani, date unknown, kemuning wood, 7.5 x 7 x 4 cm

This is an extremely decorative hilt, with deeply incised, perfectly executed carving. Foliate motifs on the head are carved into a fine tracery of spirals with finely hatched lines giving volume to the belly and legs. Doun Meloyu are carved on the buah pinang while bunga tanjung feature down the back of the hilt.

KERIS KELANTAN (KW060)
Kelantan, late 20th c., kemuning wood hilt, ketengga and kemuning wood sheath, 50.1 x 17.5 x 7.5 cm

This keris hilt is carved in the Jawa demam style, also called anak ayam. The wood for the hilt has been taken from the root of a kemuning tree, which accounts for its unusual coloration. The wood is inlaid with mother-of-pearl and decorated with ketam gun flower and leaf motifs. The crosspiece is made of ketengga wood with a most beautiful grain. A small pucuk kacang ornaments the lower corner. The shaft and base of the sheath (not shown) are also made of kemuning. The early 19th-century blade (not shown) is in the Pandai Saras style. A gilded silver pendokok symbolizes lotus petals. Carved by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

BADEK TERENGGANU (KW104)
Terengganu, early 20th c., coral hilt, ketengga wood crosspiece and base, hantu duri shaft, 32 x 8.5 x 3 cm

A badek is a small knife with a distinctive asymmetrical crosspiece. This hilt uses the natural shape of coral, a very difficult material to work with. The seven-fok blade (not shown) is a most unusual one with female sea horse decoration and a beautiful pamor.

HILT, KERIS (KW047)
Pattani, early 19th c., coral, 10.4 x 6 x 4.5 cm

This very unusual hilt relies on the natural form of the coral and some mother-of-pearl embedded within it, which has been expertly exploited by the craftsman.

PANEL
Kelantan, 19th c., merbau wood, 72.5 x 54 x 4.5 cm

One of the carved panels from an interior partition of a palace built by the last Raja of Pattani in Kota Bharu, which has now been demolished. Pomegranate fruit, leaves and branches are the main motifs. The source (punco) of the motif, though hidden, is the punco benih (seed source). The outlines of the branches are also arranged to form lotus bud or stupa shapes.

Interpreting Malay Woodcarving

Earlier in this book we saw how and why trees and the element of wood came to play such an important role in the worldview of the Malay peoples. Trees and the element of wood were (and remain) liminal entities that stood between the cultured and civilized world of the Malays and the chaotic, uncontrollable wilderness that encircled their settlements. Trees were the things that kept the forces of nature at bay while also marking the moment of nature's radical interruption into the ordered universe of human beings. They were thus an ambiguous and uncertain variable that needed to be properly utilized and nurtured.²¹

The existence of the Malay community also depended upon trees and the element of wood, but the very same material could also turn against its masters. When given the respect due to it, wood could serve the people who depended on it very well. But if and when the element was neglected or treated with contempt, it was thought that the mysterious forces contained within the wood itself would bring havoc and chaos to the community. It is hardly a surprise, then, that over the centuries a complex cult of wood and its vital life force (semangat) developed among the Malays.²²

This ambiguous relationship with trees and wood was at the heart of the riddle of wood itself. For the element of wood was, in fact, the 'constitutive other' of the Malay world: wood was the one element that the Malays were wary of, due to its inherent magical and supernatural qualities, but wood was also the one element that the Malays depended upon more than anything else. Without wood, Malay civilization may never have developed and prospered as it did, though it remained as the one element that needed to be exteriorized and kept at bay.

As Malay culture and civilization developed, so did the people's understanding and usage of trees and wood in general, evolving into a complex hermeneutic system that sought to tell the story of the Malays, their environment and their relationship with the one element that they depended upon so heavily. As generations of Malay woodcarvers worked their material and brought it to new heights of artistry and expression, they were also composing the vast socio-cultural narrative that told the story of themselves and their people, and how they viewed their universe. Malay woodcarving was thus a plastic art form which was (and still is) capable of communicating messages and meanings on a discursive level that went beyond mere words. In the plastic space of Malay woodcarving, we can thus read the story of how the Malay universe eventually came together and fell into place. All we have to do today is to relearn the rules of decoding that language that was so familiar not so long ago.

An ornate finial decorating a spindle. The leaves are carved in the form of Langkasukan motifs.

Malay Woodcarving as Art

One of the saddest consequences of rapid and uneven development is that it often introduces a number of disruptive variables into a given social milieu. Throughout the world, and throughout the course of human history, we have seen how rapid development and modernization have led to the loss of historical narratives, oral histories and a local appreciation for the past and one's own specific, localized culture. Just as languages and narratives can be forgotten, so can the hermeneutic codes and matrixes which are used to understand these languages be lost in the course of time.

Today, as we make our way towards an uncertain future characterized by ever-shifting cultural, social and political frontiers, one cannot help but lament the loss of old certainties of the past. The so-called 'post-modern' age may well overwhelm us with a host of new and unforeseen possibilities for self-reinvention and self-generation, but it also renders our ties to the past increasingly fragile. The younger generation of many a developing country knows less and less about the past. We look back at the time of our ancestors with a sense of foreboding and distaste: a reminder of darker days marked by obscurantism and the occult.²³ But this rejection of the past and all that goes with it is not accidental. It comes as we surge towards the future and learn new codes and rules of dealing with the challenges that lie ahead. Our rejection of the past comes with the forgetting of the rules and codes of the bygone era. As we forget these codes, so does the past seem more alien and incomprehensible.

The key to understanding the past therefore lies in rediscovering the code that would help us decipher and read its story. For only then would the past make sense to us, speak to us and be understood by us who live in the present. These codes are all around us today. They lie inert and passive, waiting to be unlocked and reactivated by those who are sensitive or receptive enough to listen to them and what they have to say. One of these codes can be found in the world of Malay woodcarving, but Malay woodcarving can only play this crucial role as a hermeneutic code if we take it seriously for what it is: a form of art.

A section of a panel rescued from an old house showing part of the elegant composition of ketam guri leaves spreading out from an urn. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

Malay woodcarving needs to be understood as an art form in the proper sense of the word. By this we mean that the concept of 'art' itself is in dire need of being reinterpreted and reappraised in the present context. Living as we do at a time where 'art' is understood as any decorative, superfluous object that is hung on walls or displayed in a cabinet, there is the urgent need to understand art as the means through which society re-presents itself to itself instead.

No culture, or society or civilization is ever fully self-represented or self-constituted before itself. This is for the simple reason that the identity of any given culture or civilization is necessarily far more complex, ambiguous and multifarious than it seems. A simple, abstract label or name can never hope to capture the entirety of a complex culture or way of life. There are always other stories and other aspects of a given identity that are missing or kept out of view, and this applies in the case of Malay cultural identity as it does with any other. Because the totality of any cultural system can never be captured by signification alone, there is always the need to weave a more complex narrative that will try to tell the broader story of that cultural system itself. This is where art comes into its own, and fulfils its purpose.

Art serves as one of the means through which a society or culture represents and recognizes itself. The artistic production of any society forms part and parcel of the collective narrative of that society or culture, and is a vital ingredient to understanding what that culture is all about. To try to understand a particular culture or society without looking at its art is as futile an endeavour as trying to understand a culture or society without learning its language. Indeed, our argument here is that Malay art, and woodcarving in particular, needs to be understood precisely in terms of a discourse that would help us understand the history, mentality and worldview of the people that produced it.

Codes, Matrices and Themes in Malay Woodcarving

Codes are there to help us understand and interpret narratives and systems of signification. Without such codes, languages and narratives remain incomprehensible to us. Like all linguistic and symbolic codes, the hermeneutic code contained within the world of Malay woodcarving is made up of a set of consistent elements and relations of signification. This is true of Malay woodcarving as it is for any other art form, for the simple reason that no art form can ever be deciphered or understood if the code which serves as its mode of interpretation extends indefinitely and opens the way to an unlimited number of interpretative possibilities. Malay art and Malay woodcarving, in particular, makes sense to us only because the code to understanding it is a fairly simple, accessible and fixed one.

The point that needs to be emphasized is simply this: that Malay woodcarving, as a form of art that can and should be understood as a bearer of meaning and signification, only functions as such because there are rules and norms which govern the way we read and interpret it. Malay woodcarving can be appreciated and understood because the code to its understanding remains a relatively fixed one. Over the course of time and its evolution, Malay woodcarving has retained a degree of consistency in the way that its symbols, patterns, motifs and arrangements are read. This implies the presence of codes and rules of interpretation that have remained more or less 'static' over the centuries. Had these matrixes of interpretation changed considerably over time, it would have been quite difficult, if not impossible, for Malay woodcarving to retain its consistency and identity in the course of its evolution.

This sketch for a wall bracket (sesiku) shows an evolution to a more naturalistic way of carving foliage, in this case ketumbit leaves and flowers, although still based on spirals within the fluid lines of the awan larat. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

A study of the tajong spiral pattern with Langkasukan motifs for the hilt of a keris fayong. This spiral shape is said to symbolize the eternal spiral of life, the makara, and the wings of a garuda. In the sketch on the right, the spiral pattern is in place as part of the body decoration, with daun bayam peroksi ornamentation. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

H. Ling Roth was one of the first to comment on the recurrence of a set of normative codes, matrixes and themes in Malay art in general.²⁴ In his work on Malay art, and silverwork in particular, he had managed to narrow the focus of scholars and students of Malay art to a number of such codes and themes, although it has to be said that his own research did not extend much further than isolating and identifying these sets of recurring themes and motifs.²⁵

Nonetheless, those who are attentive to the form and content of Malay art will know that there are a number of recurring motifs and themes that continue to appear in the work of the traditional Malay artist. Contemporary Malaysian scholars like Osman Bakar, Rahmah Bujang and Wan Abdul Kadir Wan Yusof have helped us to understand the interplay of these recurrent themes in the evolution of Malay art and culture.²⁶ These designs, patterns and motifs also make their presence felt in the realm of Malay woodcarving.

Awan Larat: The Eternal Spiral of Life

Of all the recurrent design patterns to be found in Malay art, the most prominent has to be the unending, recurrent spiral popularly known as awan larat. The name itself translates roughly as 'meandering clouds' and is quite appropriate for the lofty subject that it alludes to. Generations of Malay woodcarvers have returned to this symbolically loaded design pattern, which itself is a testimony to its enduring relevance and importance within the Malay mindset. As a general design structure, it has often accommodated other motifs and symbols, and has often been used as a vehicle to carry their related meanings.

The awan larat design is usually represented in the form of a spiral which emanates from a fixed centre (often presented as a flowering bud, open upturned lotus or sprouting seed) and then moves progressively outwards as it expands. At times, the spiral itself can be represented in the form of a spiralling vine or tendril growing from a core root, bud or seed. In some (rarer) cases, the spiral may take the form of a flowing trail of clouds or waves. The significance of the spiral lies in the fact that it represents the unending ebb and flow of life itself. In the meandering flow of the spiral, we trace both the centrifugal and centripetal tendencies to escape and to return to the centre. The spiral flows in both directions: in a centripetal motion towards its point of origin and in a centrifugal motion outwards towards infinity.

GUNUNGAN ALMIRAH (CROWN FOR A CUPBOARD)
Kelantan, early 20th c., medang hitam wood, 42.3 x 10.3 x 20 cm

This carving probably decorated the top of a cupboard. It illustrates the use of vegetative motifs—ketam gun and sulurkacang from a seed source—in an awan larat design pattern.

In the course of its evolution during both the Hindu—Buddhist and Islamic eras, the awan larat design was invested with a number of deeper theological and philosophical meanings. The dramatic motion outwards and its subsequent collapse back to the centre came to symbolize the unending process of creation, regeneration, degeneration and reunification back to the central point of origin of the cosmos.

The central point of origin of the spiral was taken by both pre-Islamic and Islamic woodcarvers to represent the unity of God itself. The centre marked the unitary aspect of the Creator, who stood at the axis of a mobile and multifarious universe. As a static yet pivotal point of reference, the core of the spiral is both the point of origin of all things as well as a reminder of the essentially unitary nature of all existence. From this single, solitary central point, we trace the outward movement of the spiral as it reaches out into the infinite. The outward movement therefore stands for a number of things: growth, multiplicity, development, linear history and temporality all rolled up into one sweeping expansionist motion. But the flow of the spiral goes both ways. While the spiral sweeps outwards, it also reaches backwards. This backward motion stands for an equally diverse range of meanings: it simultaneously represents degeneration, decline, destruction, decay, memory and return. The retreat back to the point of origin marks the moment of returning to the beginning of all things. Bound by the unforgiving trajectory of the spiral, all things invariably turn back to whence they came. One is bound by the rope of God which sustains while also keeping the universe in order. In the end, it is the centre—God itself—that keeps the spiral in check and the cosmos in balance.

The bud of the ketam gun plant shown here incorporates Langkasukan motifs. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

Detail of the sulurbayu motif with Langkasukan designs ending in a bird's head, from the okok of a traditional perahu.

A spiral formed of daun bay am peraksi.

A spiral formed of daun sayap. Drawings by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

The deep spiritual and metaphysical meaning imbedded in the recurring spiral design makes it one of the most important and meaningful in the Malay universe. Its ability to convey such a simple, yet central message to its audience is perhaps one of the reasons why it is often seen in both pre-Islamic and Islamic Malay architecture and art. The majestic sweep of the awan lor at captures in one grand, poetic gesture what centuries of complex religious philosophy has tried to convey through the medium of words and oral instruction. Here, the eloquence of the woodcarver matches that of the theologian and philosopher in no uncertain terms.

Being such an over-determined design pattern, the awan larat manages to capture a number of contradictory elements as well. In it we see the tendencies towards growth and decay, control and nihilism, multiplicity and unity. This contradiction is embodied in the awan larat itself, which often straddles the uncertain boundary between the figurative and the symbolic, the realistic and the abstract. We see this in countless interpretations of the awan larat, where the calculated, abstract and almost rigid flow of the spiral (at times symmetrically juxtaposed when represented as mirror opposites) stands in stark contrast to the irregular and natural rendering of leaves, flowers and shoots that grow along its edges.

It is for this reason that the awan larat design can be so difficult to classify at times. Seen from one point of view, it is a typical example of abstract art; seen from another, it seems to fall under the category of the figurative. The composite design pattern combines elements of both: the spiral is clearly abstract and geometrical in nature and appearance, but the spiral itself is often decorated with flowers, leaves, buds and sometimes even birds and other animals—all of which are clearly figurative. The truth is that the awan larat is one of those hybrid liminal compositions that overlaps the frontiers of the figurative and the abstract in Malay art, and by doing so it serves as one of the keys for us to understand both aspects of Malay art as a whole. Through it we come to understand how abstract Malay art can be figurative, and vice versa.

A sensitive rendering of the awan larat has to be one of the greatest challenges for the Malay woodcarver. The woodcarver must not only represent the spiral but also the internal tension and contradictory meanings that it is meant to convey. It must be noted that the curve of the spiral itself can never be erratic or irregular. As the spiral moves outwards, its expansion is a measured, calculated and deliberate one. One notes the obvious care and discipline that has gone into a skilful rendition of the awan larat. Yet the temptation for the artist to let go of himself, to abandon all self-control and to let loose a plethora of motifs and images (vibrant flowers, luxurious tendrils, buds bursting forth with life) is always restrained by the overriding need for control, to maintain balance, harmony, order and propriety.

In the movement of the awan larat we read the drama of the spiral of life: the contest between order and nature, between adab and liar (or halus and kasar as the Javanese would put it.) Ultimately, it is the ordered and harmonious rendering of the awan larat that distinguishes the Malay interpretation of the theme from other variations found in Persian, Chinese, Indian, Burmese, Khmer or Thai examples. The existence of similar designs in the art and architecture of other civilizations testifies to the universality of the message being communicated to the viewer: it points to the existential condition that is shared by all who bear the common lot of humanity.

Keris tajong hilt with abstracted and stylized motifs. Daun Melayu disguise the tajong spiral. A geometric pattern of bunga tanjung decorates the cheek of the hilt. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein, who carved this design in ivory in the 1990s.

The Symmetrical Universe

If the awan larat design is meant to express the internal contradictions that shape the cosmos and plague the lot of its inhabitants, then the recurring theme of the symmetrical universe is intended to convey another message altogether: namely, the ordering of the universe, both apparent and invisible, and the role that is played by art in making visible this seemingly invisible order of things.

Malay woodcarving is replete with symmetrical images and representations of the universe. Time and again, we encounter examples of carved doorways, window panels, decorative columns and other such flat, two-dimensional objects where the decorative effects carved on them are repeated inversely, thereby creating a mirror image reflection of itself. This reflection or mirroring can occur on a number of axial planes: side by side or along a horizontal border. What is important is that the reflection should be a perfect one where every single element on one side is matched by the other. This arrangement is often found in Malay renditions of the awan larat design, where the spirals that emerge from a singular point of origin often move outwards in opposite directions, at the same time reflecting or mirroring one another. In other cases, we find elaborate arabesques, floral cartouches or abstract repeating geometric forms reflecting one another in perfect mimesis.

The key concept that guides our understanding of the recurring symmetrical patterns in Malay art is mimesis: the deliberate mimicry of another that marks the moment of artistic creation and genius itself. As we have seen earlier, Malay art, particularly from the Islamic era onwards, gradually came to reject anthropomorphic and naturalistic mimesis for something far more conceptually abstract and complex.²⁷ What we find in the recurring image of the symmetrical universe is not a mimicry of the world as it seems to us, but the world as it is meant to be. Abstract mimesis, which leads to the depiction of the universe as an ordered and orderly realm, is meant to capture the eternal logic of the cosmos itself, which is divine, universal, and beyond the mere epiphenomena of material existence. The abstract, symmetrical composition that we often see in Malay woodcarving (and other forms of plastic art) therefore marks a significant leap from one artistic register to another. By going beyond the realistic, three-dimensional depiction of what is readily and immediately apparent before him, the Malay artist tries to capture that which lies beyond the appearance of things. What the Malay artist tries to capture is not the image of the tree, cloud or wave that he sees, but rather the abstract idea and essence of the tree, cloud or wave itself.

A panel from Masjid Aur Menatjung, Pattani, showing Langkasukan motifs and flowers in a triangle of fluid stems. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

A triangular design of bunga cempaka and daun sesayap in a more evolved style. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

In the recurring theme of the symmetrical universe, we read a number of concerns at work simultaneously: on the one hand, the image of the symmetrical universe repeated before itself captures the relationship between the artist and his world. It graphically illustrates the problematic relationship between mimesis and reality, and it brings home the important point that no true, accurate, complete and final mimicry is ever really possible. Art at its best can only imitate, and this imitation is always subjective and relative. In the abstract rendering of a universe folded up and mirroring itself, we often see how subjective the worldview of the artist really is. His rendering of leaves, vines, trees, clouds and waves are invariably reduced to abstract symbols that merely stand for the things themselves. No matter how realistic the carving of these elements and subjects may be, the fact that these images are repeated and reflected upon themselves in perfect mimesis robs them of all pretence to realism. Repetition and reflection remind us of the duplicity inherent in mimesis in general. We are left with no doubt that what stands before us is a work of art which merely imitates, and not the thing itself. The woodcarver as artist merely mimics the reality he sees around him, but never creates reality from nothingness.

Malay art therefore goes against the grain of the modern understanding of art and modern notions about artistic production which invariably lay stress on the personality and creative capabilities of the individual artist. Rather than foreground the personality and subjectivity of the artist/woodcarver himself, traditional Malay art, like other forms of traditional Asian art, insists on the death of the ego of the artist/ woodcarver himself. The personality of the Malay woodcarver is effaced in and by his work. By surrendering all pretence to creativity and original genius, which, as we have seen earlier is part of the adab (customs) of kerja (work), the woodcarver surrenders his will to his work and the material he works with. Malay woodcarving does not afford the solitary woodcarver with the space or opportunity to project himself or his personality. Rather, it takes him to the opposite direction, leading him to the loss of the self instead. Here lies one of the secret codes to understanding Malay art: the genius of the Malay artist lies not in self-glorification but rather in his ability to erase himself in and through his work, allowing the bitter to speak for itself.

PANEL (AR013)
Pattani, late 19th c., cengal wood, 27 x 72.6 x 3 cm

Symmetrical but free carving of ketam guri leaves and flowers spring from a hidden source (punca rahsia). The panel is carved in the old style, with spirals on leaf tips, and the face of Kala hidden in the central motifs.

On another level, the theme of the symmetrical universe presents us with an ideal image of what the universe should also be like. In these symmetrical compositions we catch a glimpse of an ordered universe where reality and its artistic representation are in harmony with each other. The symmetrical universe embodied by these images depicts a cosmos that is ordered and in a state of balance. Equilibrium is found in the perfect mirroring of each of the elements. Order and stability are found in congruity and consonance, not difference or opposition. Once again, the intimate relationship between the art of the Malays and the cultural codes and norms that kept Malay society together comes to mind. Malay woodcarving (like the rest of Malay art) not only reminds us of what the Malay universe is like, but also how it should be. The order we see in these symmetrical compositions tell us of the unrequited desire for harmony and balance that remains in the heart of the Malays themselves. The symmetrical ordering of the universe, so often found in Malay woodcarving, therefore speaks of a psycho-social longing to return to an ideal state where differences can be reconciled in unity, and antagonisms resolved in congruence. Malay woodcarving has thus become the bearer of wishes for those who cannot find the words they seek.

Like the recurring awan larat design, the popular motif of the symmetrical universe also straddles the uncertain boundary between the abstract and the figurative. But here the element of abstraction lies not in the form and content of the image itself (unlike the awan larat design where the abstract dimension is clearly brought to the fore by the rigid, almost unnatural, curve of the spiral itself), but rather in the way that the images are reproduced via the mode of reflection and mimesis. The reversed mirroring of the image and its perfect reproduction along an invisible horizon, which splits the composition while uniting it, foregrounds the fact that what we see before us is a mimesis that is so perfect that it is unnatural. In the motif of the symmetrical universe, we see the drama of art being played out before us, and we are forced towards the inescapable conclusion that all of art, like life, is a mere shadow play of reflections, mirroring and reproducing. The recurring theme of the symmetrical universe therefore opens the way for a host of complex and difficult questions related to our fundamental notions of identity, existence and being.

The Langkasukan motif. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

Gunungan and Stupa: The Cosmic Hierarchy

The theme of the symmetrical universe clearly encapsulates the notion of an ordered cosmos, where reality is not merely the product of contingency and chance. The Malay cosmos was never an accidental one. Both the awan larat and the symmetrical patterns of Malay art point to an understanding of the cosmos as a seemingly infinite space that is nonetheless corralled within the centralizing power of a unitary Creator. But if the awan larat design reminds us of the eternal cycle of life and the recurring image of the symmetrical universe is meant to point to the presence of an essential reality beyond mere phenomenal appearance, then the hierarchical worldview of the Malays (during both the pre-Islamic and Islamic eras) is summed up by the motif of the peak or stupa. Time and again we encounter the image of the peak in a variety of forms and styles: the mountain peak (gunungan) which harks back to the pagan past, the multi-tiered stupa which clearly dates from the Hindu—Buddhist period, and the layered pyramid which was developed during the Islamic era (and which is often found in the architecture of traditional Malay mosques).²⁸ The mountain peak motif has been one of the most important and essential elements of Malay art from the pagan to the Hindu—Buddhist and up to the contemporary Islamic periods. So strong is the presence of the peak/pyramid/stupa motif that we can trace it back to the earliest origins of the Malay peoples themselves. The same motif is found elsewhere in the world and its presence in practically every major cultural or civilizational grouping (from the Mayans, Incas and Aztecs to the Egyptians, Assyrians, Indians and ancient Chinese) points to the fact that it is one of the most fundamental motifs found in the repertoire of world art and culture.

The symbolism of the peak is clearly obvious for all to see. Its pyramidal structure, with its broad base, sloping sides and solitary peak at the top, has been interpreted as a symbol of power, authority and unity in a variety of different cultural and historical contexts. But the simplicity of the motif itself conceals a depth that is often neglected. As an empty signifier, the simple motif of the peak (be it in the form of stupa, pyramid or mountain) plays host to a number of important theories, conceptual structures and worldviews. That this is possible at all is hardly surprising considering how important the image of the peak (often represented in the form of a mountain) has been throughout the evolution of Malay culture and history.²⁹

In the context of Malay art and woodcarving, in particular, the recurring image of the peak (gunungan/ stupa) has been invested with a number of meanings and interpretations drawn from the pagan, Hindu, Buddhist and Islamic systems of belief. It is often represented in a number of forms and styles, but the essential character remains the same: the peak is fundamentally triangular in shape—although in three-dimensional form, it may also assume the shape of a cone or a pyramid. Seen from the front along a two-dimensional plane, it has two sides which slope upwards while also reaching towards congruence at a designated point above. While the sloping sides of the peak may not be apparent (they may, for instance, be effaced by layers of vegetal/animal motifs or the peak itself may take the form of a layered stupa), we can nonetheless trace the abstract trajectory of the slopes and locate the point of convergence that is the peak itself.

Detail of a sulurbayu incorporating Langkasukan motifs and spiral. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

The pyramidal peak motif is also an adaptable one that lends itself to a number of applications and opens itself to a myriad of interpretative possibilities. It can be viewed from a number of angles: from below, above or sideways. It was this inherent malleability of the peak motif that made it a particularly useful one during the Hindu—Buddhist and Islamic eras. As Malay civilization grew and prospered, generations of Hindu—Buddhist and later Muslim woodcarvers and artisans sought to use the symbol of the peak to communicate ideas and values that were fundamental to their respective epistemologies and belief systems. Thus the simple triangular peak motif became invested with a number of complex philosophical and theological meanings, and in time it evolved into a highly dense and complex signifier.

Design for a pemeleh pintu decorated with flowers and fruits of the ketumbit. The design displays both symmetry and subtly repeated motifs. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

The gunungan and buah buton on the entrance gateway (pintu gerbang) at Pusara Tok Pelam, Kuala Terengganu. Langkasukan designs can be seen in the shape of the side panel mouldings, the subtle notching of the lower panels and in the overall composition. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

A stupa finial for the hilt of a parang. Right: An inverted stupa (lebah bergantung) which hangs under the ceiling beams of mosques and palaces. Drawings by Norhaiza Noordin.

As with the case of the awan larat design, we can also read and interpret the peak motif from a number of angles. Seen from below the upward slope of the gunungan/ stupa often symbolizes ascension, evolution, enlightenment as well as the movement towards gnosis (unity in and with the divine) at the same time. But the same motif can also be reversed. Viewed from the top, the pyramid stands for the symbolic imposition of order from above. The downward slope of the peak also marks the progression from the unitary and particular to the multiple and variable. In this simple motif we can therefore read a number of meanings at the same time: the peak motif stands for both unity and diversity, particularism and universalism, ascension and degeneration. What began as an abstract geometrical sign has developed into a tableau upon which the cosmological worldview of the Malay peoples was etched.

Like the motif of the symmetrical universe, the symbol of the peak/ gunungan/ stupa had evolved in the context of a society where such a symbol could be meaningful. Its multifarious array of coded meanings (as a representation of divine power, social order, hierarchy, etc.) reflects the concerns of the society for whom the gunungan had a deeply imbedded significance. As in the case of the image of the symmetrical universe, the gunungan/ stupa motif speaks of and for a community in search of order, structure and hierarchies. That it appeared in the midst of a people who embraced both the caste system of Hinduism and the normative social structures of Islam that came after is also a factor that we cannot simply bracket away.³⁰ The gunungan/stupa therefore deserves to be recognized as one of the most fundamental and integral symbols in the repertoire of Malay art and culture, and through it we come to have a better understanding of the people who adopted it themselves.

All of these motifs can be found in the development of Malay art and Malay wood-carving in particular. At the hands of generations of skilful Malay woodcarvers, such motifs have been applied, juxtaposed, recontextualized and reinterpreted time and again in order to create what has been a grand narrative of the development of Malay civilization as a whole.

A buah buton from an old gateway in Kelantan. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

The Future of Malay Woodcarving

Malay woodcarving can only endure if it is respected and understood for what it is. It needs to be seen as an art form that has emerged from its own specific socio-cultural milieu which was deeply shaped and affected by the religious beliefs, philosophical outlook and traditional values of the people themselves. Though the traditional Malay woodcarver was always a servant to his community (or at times his patron), he was nonetheless a crucial and important member of that community and his role was far from marginal. Through his carvings, he caught and preserved for posterity the spirit, humour, pains and longings of a people who were looking for their way on the map of human history. Like the poet and the scribe, the Malay wood-carver was one of the few who had the rare privilege and responsibility of chronicling the passing of the Malay era, and in his work we read the coded history of the evolution of the Malay peoples.

The head of a ceremonial bird, the Burung Petala Indra, based on the figurehead of a royal barge in the Istana Balai Besar, Kelantan. Drawing by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

This message may well be lost in the near future if Malaysian society fails to learn the codes and matrixes that will help them understand the riddle of wood and wood-carving around them, if it fails to understand the meaning and depth that lie in this medium of artistic creation. As commercialism takes hold of the Malay mind, the present younger generation is in danger of being divorced from its past, and left marooned in a sea of consumer goods and services instead. What hope is there for the Malay woodcarver of today in a world where everyone knows the price of everything but the value of nothing? As long as there remains an audience that is sensitive to the message that is being conveyed by the woodcarver and his medium itself, the complex and ever-developing nature of Malay woodcarving will ensure that the art form will continue to develop and evolve over the years to come.

HILT, BADEK MAKARA (KW063)
Pattani, mid-19th c., setar wood crosspiece, gemia wood shaft with silver trim, 38 x 4.7 x 3 cm

The hilt of this badek is decorated with a carving of a crowned makara head (see page 159). The carving is incomplete on one side. The cheek is decorated with a tajong spiral. Pucukpaku motifs form a decorative border along the trunk.

The Kingdom of Langkasuka

Only a passing reference is made to the early kingdom of Langkasuka in the histories of the region. Historians dispute the location, debate the name and speculate on its nature, structure and formation. But on the shores of the South China Sea, in the northeast Malaysian state of Kelantan, master woodcarver Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein offers a resolute response: 'It exists because I sense it in the earth, feel it in the wood, taste it in the cuisine.... I see it in the look of the people here.'

The unfolding of civilizations is most often seen in terms of waves, a dramatic, engulfing motion followed by an extended period of calm. So too with the early history of Southeast Asia. The emergence of one empire—Champa, Funan, Srivijaya—and its subsequent demise, simply gave rise to yet another wave. Indianization and Hinduization were the underpinnings of these civilizations and there was little need to examine the inner tensions and conflicts, betrayals and usurpations, mythologies and cults beyond Southeast Asia in its incarnation as 'Further India'.

More recent times boast the development of alternative perspectives that refute the idea of early Southeast Asia as one dominated by serene, civilizing arcs.³¹ It is now generally accepted that the map of early Southeast Asia boasted a 'scattering' of small, contending vassal states, each yielding a ruler who conceded to the hegemony of one king whose rule was identified with divine, universal authority. The mandala theory of social-political organization revealed a region marked by constant flux and vulnerable to rapid shifts in political authority and loyalties; in short, a manifestly political setting replete with power struggles and consolidation of authority. 'In practice, the mandala (a Sanskrit term used in Indian manuals of government) represented a particular and often unstable political situation in a vaguely definable geographical area without fixed boundaries and where smaller centers tended to look in all directions for security. Mandalas would expand and contract in concertina-like fashion. Each one contained several tributary rulers, come of whom would repudiate their vassal status when the opportunity arose and try to build up their own networks of vassals. Only the mandala overlord had the prerogative of receiving tribute-bearing envoys; he himself would despatch officials who represented his superior status.'³² Such a climate refutes the idea of an early Southeast Asia evolving serenely in fateful resignation to a predetermined destiny. Rather, cliques, factions, personalities, clientage and patronage were essential elements in Angkorian politics.

While political authority proved the apogee in the social structure of the mandala states and resulted in many recorded incidents of conflict, the development of a sophisticated method of statecraft implied that conditions were not necessarily always violent and bloodied. Political authority did not merely consist of the seizure of power but also the consolidation of that authority. Among the principal virtues of a ruler was the cultivation of diplomatic skills: '... the ruler was not an autocrat; he was a mediator, accessible and able to keep the peace and mobilize many disparate groups. He needed to attract loyal subordinates to his entourage and to satisfy their self-esteem.'³³ Within such a scheme, little could prove of greater value than the sanctity afforded by forms of sacral authority. The development of a personality cult—the devaraja—lay the foundations for a loyalty based on divine kingship. As chakravartin—God's representative on earth—the ruler could claim an association with Siva, creator of the universe. This bond created a unique form of political loyalty, one that promised spiritual merit in exchange for loyalty.

While these forms of spiritual accord did not absolve the ruler from consolidating and fortifying the demands of temporal authority (including considerable military might), it did create an enduring complex of rites and rituals that were performed periodically at the capital. These practices served to further enhance the ruler's spiritual attributes by embracing cosmological features while impressing the absolute nature of the sovereign's rule: obedience to the sovereign was not a mere matter of coercion but a gesture that encapsulated such notions as bhakti—divine service. A unique aspect to the performance of these rites and rituals was its congregational dimension, demonstrated in the construction of congregational prayer halls within the principal capitals of early Southeast Asia. As a participant in congregational rituals, the sovereign impressed the communal nature of his rule, consolidating his position as Siva, or the Buddha's representative on earth and partaking of the role of spiritual patron. It was from this practice of devotionalism that political legitimacy was induced, then carved and inscribed indelibly in the features of art and literature—the votive tablet, the image, the utterance.

Part of the Malay Peninsula drawn from Arab sources, in which Pattani is referred to as Langashuka. This map was set down by the pilot Sulaiman b. Ahmad al Mahri, and is dated 1511. The map was reconstructed by G. R. Tibbetts in 1956. Reproduced courtesy of University of Malaya Press.

Chinese shipping map as depicted in Chapter 240 of the Wu-peichih, showing the Pattani coastline, referred to as Lang-hsi-chia, with detailed references to distances, neighbouring countries and topo-graphical features. The date of the map is uncertain, but is thought to provide a record of Admiral Cheng Ho's epic voyage in the 15th century. Reproduced courtesy of University of Malaya Press.

Of the kingdom of Langkasuka, what is known? First, a bequest of names, in diverse languages: in Chinese, lang-ja-hsiu; in Arabic, lunghasuka; in Tamil, Ilangasokam; and later in Javanese, lengkasuka; in Malay, langkasuka. Written testimony of the city state's existence, meanwhile, is to be found in the Liang-shu, a seventh-century Chinese historical annal: 'The Kingdom of Lang-ya-hsiu is situated in the Southern seas. The frontiers are thirty days' journey from east to west and twenty from south to north. It is twenty-four thousand li distant from Kuang-Chou (Canton). Its climate and products are somewhat similar to those of Funan. Aloeswood, Bar us camphor and such like are especially abundant. It is customary for men and women to go with the upper part of the body naked, with their hair hanging disheveled down their bodies, and wearing a Ian-man (sarong). The king and his chief ministers add cloths of yun-hsia to cover their shoulders, wear golden cords as girdles, and insert gold rings in their ears. The women wrap themselves in cotton cloths and coil jeweled cinctures about their bodies.'

To write of the city-states and trading posts of the Malay Peninsula is to write from a cloud of anonymity. There remains an absence of the principal features of a formal history—the history of structures, inscriptions, figures... archaeological evidence. There is no Angkor, no Borobudur, no Pagan. In its place are narration, anecdote, the whispers of passing journeymen, walking monks, itinerant traders. George Coedes provides only fleeting references to the existence of a recorded urban history in the Malay Peninsula, perceiving the experience of its city centres only within the greater historical features of the region's larger empires—Champa, Funan, Srivijaya. Of Langkasuka, he merely acknowledges its existence while hesitating to venture beyond placing it 'somewhere in this [Malay Peninsula] region'.³⁴

For want of archaeological evidence, debate and dispute centred on the location of the kingdom of Langkasuka and revolved around its geographical history. Following a small gathering of archaeological finds by a few archaeologists and historians—Alister Lamb, H. Quaritch Wales, Ronald Braddel—in the form of miniature Buddha figures, inscriptions and coins, the location of Langkasuka was initially attributed to the west coast of the Malay Peninsula, namely in the region of Kedah. In contrast, Paul Wheatley, a historical geographer, located the city state in the northeast section of the Malay Peninsula, around the Kelantan—Pattani regions and suggested its founding to be AD 2.³⁵ From written accounts and maritime tracts he deduced an estimation of the kingdom's geography. Most convincing, perhaps, is the mention of Langkasuka in the Wu-peichih chart which places Lang-hsi-chia to the south of Songhkla (now southern Thailand) and is bordered in the south by a river, kun-ha-ti, which is today known as the Pattani River.

Photograph of an early pintu gerbang in Jambu, Pattani. The curves along the top outline may be interpreted as the seven summits of Mount Meru. The gate has finely carved gunungan and sesiku at the main doorway and at the pemeleh pintu over the side doors. Buah buton are on top of each column. The lower panelling is plain. The main gate would have been reserved for royal processions which may have included caprisoned elephants and ceremonial birds. Normal traffic would have used the smaller side doors (pintu pong). Photograph reproduced by permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library.

This photograph of the grounds outside the Istana Balai Besar in Kota Bharu, Kelantan, was taken by Sir Frank Swettenham during his visit in 1902. The main doors of the pintu gerbang are open for the start of a procession. The side doors have deeply carved pemeleh pintu with protective eaves. A bull is being readied for a bullfight. Staged fights between prize bulls were common entertainment during royal celebrations. The local men in the crowd all wear the Kelantan headdress known as semutar. The light secondary sarong tied round their waists had many uses: as a sleeping sheet, as a head wrapping to keep off mosquitoes, as a head covering for women, for bathing in, and as a wiping cloth. The Sikh with the tall turban was possibly one of the earliest policemen in the State. Photograph reproduced by permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library.

Little is known of the nature and principal features of the state, its social organization or formation. Evidently a trading post, it appears to have served as a station for both the maritime and overland route between China and India. The scribe I-Ching mentions the death of a monk I-Hwei at Langkasuka while on a journey to India. Another monk, Tao-Lin, was also said to have visited the country on his way to India: 'In an ocean going-junk he was buffeted through the Southern wastes. He passed the Pillars of Brass and reached Lang-Chia. He passed Ho-Ling (Java) and traversed the Naked Country (Nicobar Islands). The kings of these countries where he stayed showed him exceeding courtesy and treated him with great generosity. After several years he reached Eastern India in the Kingdom ofTan-mo-li-ti (Tamralipti).' The Liang description of Langkasuka abides to shared characteristics between a variety of city-states in early Southeast Asia: '[The] Kingdom (city state) is surrounded by walls to form a city with double gates, towns and pavilions.' This alludes to a city-state prepared for attack by enemy or hostile forces, its constructions essentially defensive, and indicates a tempestuous political climate that was possibly vulnerable to frequent usurpation of power by invading forces or dynastic conflicts. Theories have been propounded that such a situation existed among the smaller vassal states that gravitated around the larger empires, which remained in relative calm. The main experience of the vassal states was one of contestation, warring and usurpation. Langkasuka's geographical ambiguity was possibly a feature of this experience and a result of shifting centres of power following periods of political change or turmoil.

Of religion and cultural characteristics, little is known apart from the general consensus that Langkasuka adopted the Indian model. In describing the Indian model and intimate relationship with India, the Liang-shu also give a glimpse of the political uncertainties besetting the city-state: 'When the king goes forth he rides upon an elephant. He is accompanied by banners, fly-whisks, flags and drums and he is shaded with a white parasol. The soldiers of his guard are well-appointed. The inhabitants of the country say that their state was founded more than four hundred years ago. Subsequently the descendants became weaker, but in the king's household there was a man of virtue to whom the populace turned. When the king heard of this he imprisoned this man, but his chains snapped unaccountably. The king took him for a supernatural being and, not daring to injure him, exiled him from the country, whereupon he fled to India. The king of India gave him his eldest daughter in marriage. Not long afterwards, when the king of Lang-ya died, the chief ministers welcomed back the exile and made him king.' Where so little 'archaeological evidence' is manifest, it is the shards of narrative, anecdote, report, rumour that enable the assembling of Langkasuka history. Through this course, Langkasuka passes from fact into mythology and legend of the Malay peoples; the passing of fact and its emergence as metaphor. For our purposes, a remark from Wheatley remains striking, 'Although they vary in detail, the texts are in fair agreement on the categories of commercial goods produced in Langkasuka. Chief among these in early times was aromatic woods....'³⁶

It remains a concession rarely offered and one that should be duly acknowledged. In a foreword to the History of the Malay Kingdom of Patani, David Wyatt states: '[There attests] a seemingly inexorable signification of "history" in Western terms, to denote historians commitment to the idea—explicitly or implicitly—that there exists a real, knowable, objective past that can be uncovered by systematic and rational means, as if each footnote were a nail to fix in place the "facts" that, taken together, constitute the Past. Almost completely neglected, most especially by academics, is another kind of history and—dare we admit it?—an even larger group of historians that both now and in the long run have far greater influence, upon the historical consciousness of those who live it, those whose history it is: the "amateur" local and regional historians within Southeast Asia who, relatively unexposed to Western scholarly styles and canons, and free from the obligation to be somehow "objective" write about their own history from the inside, expressing unselfconsciously their own values, local perspectives, and, not least, political hopes and aspirations³⁷

Even a cursory glance at the annals and 'histories' of early Southeast Asia would reveal a preponderance of lore and tale in favour of a chronological means of narrative. Such texts, passed off by some historians as 'mere babble', are nevertheless an invaluable means to gaining insight into the manner, custom and values of a particular community. Where the history of chronology informs, the history of metaphor instructs. For formal historians, devoted to the analysis of episode and event, metaphorical narrative continues to frustrate efforts at arriving at a 'knowable' conclusion. For artists, however, located in the milieu and continuity of such a tradition, metaphor contributes to an understanding of Self, a forging of a worldview.

Two badek makara hilts from Pattani in the form of crowned makara. An early Malay riddle asks:

Berbelalai bukan gajah Bermakhota bukan raja Bersisik bukan ikan Apakah dia?

It has a trunk but is not an elephant It has a crown but is not a king
It is scaly but is not a fish What is it?

Drawings by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein.

Daun ketumbit are drawn in a circular pattern for the new door of Masjid Langgar, designed by Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.

In conversation, the craftsman Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein stresses a communal perception of history: 'We all share it,' he asserts, 'the craftsman, the puppeteer, the MakYong actor.' It is possible here to glean the idea of history, as expounded by the craftsman, the puppeteer, the actor and the storyteller, as a current. In the vicinity of Kok Lanas in the state of Kelantan, prior to a performance of the Wayang Kulit, the puppeteer Abdullah Ibrahim, better known as Dollah Baju Merah (Dollah of the Red Shirt), expounds: 'In wayang there is no past, present or future. There is only renewal.' Months later, prior to a ritual performance of the MakYong, the actor Pak Su Mat elaborates: 'This performance is a commemoration of the spirit and ancestry of the original makyong actors and actresses. This is an opportunity for them to partake of performance.'

When history is perceived as living revelation, its transformation into metaphor is not only predictable; it is inevitable. And this is where the logic of formal history fails. Metaphor is the domain of the artist, the performer, the storyteller. Its impetus remains circular and concludes only to begin again. Of Langkasuka, the most conclusive statement of fact is offered by Wheatley: 'Many of the perplexities which we have noted [regarding Langkasuka] may well prove permanently insoluble, but enough has been salvaged from obscurity to show that Langkasuka, a kingdom of considerable importance during the first fifteen hundred years of the Christian era, was situated in the vicinity of modern Patani. Emerging as an entity early in the period of Indianization, it persisted through the vicissitudes of peninsular history until early in the sixteenth century when it mysteriously disappeared, leaving only a legendary name to a peasant mythology.'³⁸

The only authentically traditional Malay source that acknowledges the existence of Langkasuka is the Hikayat Merong Mahawangsa (the Kedah Annals) but here, too, its allusions betray a formal, episodic continuity. Instead, its narrative centres on stories of heavenly disputes, marriages and the magical. Wheatley's suggestion that the kingdom mysteriously disappeared remains instructive since it does nevertheless suggest a continuity of Langkasuka, albeit not one of incident but one sustained by the imagination, one sustained, even today, by its craftsmen, puppeteers and storytellers.

Door lintel in Masjid Ba' Pu, Pattani. The line of the lintel embodies one of the most important principles of Langkasukan and, from it, Malay design: the interplay of convex and concave lines meeting at a notch to symbolize male and female elements, and denoting unity and the balance of life. This line is found in many arte-facts and architectural elements such as the mouldings of roof elements, windows, buah buton and pemeleh pintu. It is also said to represent the makara outline.

KANDIS RESOURCE CENTRE

Several years ago, Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein decided to set up a centre where artists, craftsmen, researchers and art lovers could gather to exchange information about Malay culture and traditions. He was very concerned that despite the presence of a few great masters in the field of woodcarving and other traditional crafts, and some excellent work by individual researchers and agencies, there was no source of definitive reference, and what information was available was scattered and inconsistent. The gradual loss in the knowledge and skills of woodcarving and other Malay arts and crafts affected him deeply and he feared that these time-honoured traditions were in danger of being lost forever.

Nik Rashiddin's vision was to assemble under one roof artefacts, both antique and contemporary, that illustrate traditional designs and motifs, recordings of craftsmen sharing their knowledge and videos of these same people demonstrating their work, as well as a library of all the available literature on woodcarving and associated traditional crafts.

Although Nik Rashiddin's death is a great blow to the project, his widow, Puan Rosnawati Othman, a lecturer in architecture at Universiti Teknologi Mara in Kelantan, and his brother, Nik Rashidi Nik Hussein, himself an accomplished and knowledgeable woodcarver, are joining Norhaiza Noordin in ensuring the continuation of Nik Rashiddin's vision. A site has been purchased next to Nik Rashiddin's residence in Kampung Kandis, Kelantan, and work has begun on building simple premises to house the library and collections and to provide research facilities. Nik Rashiddin's collection of antique keris and other artefacts, which form the core of the travelling 'Spirit of Wood Exhibition', as well as his books, papers and drawings will be housed here. Funds are now being raised to complete the centre and to establish it as a Charitable Foundation. All royalties from the sale of this book will go to the Kandis Resource Centre.

Postscript and Acknowledgments

This book is based largely on the words and knowledge of one of Malaysia's great master carvers, Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein, who tragically died after a short illness on 21 August 2002 in Kota Bharu, Kelantan. Nik Rashiddin was only 47 years old, but had spent his entire working life in the pursuit of perfection, knowledge and the discovery of the foundations of Malay design.

The compilation of this book has been a complex but intensely inspiring undertaking as we have endeavoured to fulfil the vision of this man. It was Nik Rashiddin's greatest desire to document the available knowledge about his art—its history, philosophy, traditions and techniques. His passion has driven us, a motley collection of individuals, on a quest to discover the origin of a particular branch of Malay design, of which this book is but the first step.

When Norhaiza Noordin, then a young carver, first met Nik Rashiddin he discovered in him a kindred spirit, and together the two men travelled around Asia collecting relevant artefacts and talking to various craftsmen. Nik Rashiddin and Norhaiza are not simple artisans, blindly following the traditions laid down by their fore-bears. Rather, they are true artists, deeply concerned with the philosophy, history and evolution of their chosen art form. They have each invested much of what they have earned in their remarkable collections of artefacts from which they have both learnt a great deal and used as a springboard to develop their own art. They are deeply committed to perpetuating the knowledge they have gained and to creating the means to ensure the survival of their ancient heritage.

Nik Rashiddin and Norhaiza were quick to realize that some of their views offered a very different perspective of currently accepted theories. However, they were confident enough to propose them in the hope that any controversy will inspire others to seek further insight into an area that has seen woefully little research.

Norhaiza first took me to meet Nik Rashiddin in November 1998. I had wanted to stage an exhibition of Norhaiza's own outstanding work, but he insisted that such a venture was only possible with the collaboration of his mentor, Nik Din. I remember sitting in Nik Rashiddin's house, still very weak from the typhoid fever from which I was recovering, listening to him talk passionately about woodcarving, history, culture and so much more. It was as if a flood of wonderful ideas were being poured over my head—half of them not fully understood until much later—but I knew then that this was a man to whom everyone's support was fitting.

We were aware that such an undertaking would not be without obstacles. Most discouraging was the scepticism with which the project was greeted. We were told repeatedly that the project was based on 'too little evidence' and 'too much fantasy', that 'so much of it was controversial'. Despite all this, we persevered.

Our first move was to arrange a tour of museums and visits to keris collectors in the Netherlands and England so that Nik Rashiddin and Norhaiza could 'test' their knowledge on the international scene as well as broaden their own perspectives. During this trip, the two men were able to study many historical carvings from the Malay archipelago which had been presented as gifts several centuries ago, carvings that had accredited histories and dates attached to them. They also had the opportunity to exchange ideas with some of the most knowledgeable people in Europe, who had made the study of keris and allied carvings their life's work. Nik Rashiddin spent endless hours in discussion with these men, bringing many unknown aspects of their collections to their attention and widening his own knowledge of what had already been documented.

Our European experience gave us the confidence to go ahead with our plans. We launched a two-pronged project: a small initial exhibition in Malaysia sponsored by the Malaysian Timber Board in 2000, followed by a major exhibition of wood and woodcarving in 2003, which lays out the philosophical principles and practical development of woodcarving in the Malay world. This opened in September 2003 at the Asian Civilisations Museum in Singapore, and will travel to the Brunei Gallery in London in January 2004 before returning to Malaysia and a retrospective of Nik Rashiddin's work at Muzium Negara. This book has been written to accompany the exhibition, as well as to provide a deeper insight into the subject.

The Team
The Spirit of Wood project would not have been possible without the dedication of many individuals, including writers, designers and editors, some who wish to remain anonymous. We were very fortunate to find in Dr Farish A. Noor a writer who is as passionate as ourselves about the subject. He spent many months researching the subject as well as many hours talking with Nik Rashiddin—who reported feeling, after one particularly long all-night session, as though a vacuum cleaner had sucked out all his knowledge. Farish continues to promulgate Nik Rashiddin's knowledge through articles and monographs, and is preparing an important work on the kens.

Eddin Khoo recorded a long conversation with Nik Rashiddin, which forms the introduction to this book and is very important in providing a record of Nik Din's philosophy of woodcarving. He also spent many months struggling to rationalize the accepted knowledge and research on Langkasuka with Nik Rashiddin's strong—and often controversial—beliefs and theories.

Rosnawati Othman, both as a researcher of motifs and the wife and helpmate of Nik Rashiddin, ensured that we all needed little excuse to make another trip to Kelantan, so wide is her own knowledge of woodcarving and so warm her welcome. Her role now becomes even more important, as she, with Nik Rashiddin's brother, Nik Rashidi Nik Hussein, who also spent many hours preparing the artefacts for the exhibition, and Norhaiza Noordin, plan how to ensure that Nik Rashiddin's work will be perpetuated through the Kandis Resource Centre.

David Lok took the vast majority of photographs used in the book. Rigging up his studio in an old Kelantanese house with three walls and half a floor, that was being restored by Nik Rashiddin, David soon discovered that his normal practice of working late at night with spotlights effectively fused all the lights in the village. Unfazed, he produced many hundreds of superb photographs, a wonderful basis for the detailed database that has been produced in tandem with this book.

David's wife, Chiang Khai Chong, kindly and courageously took on the financial management of the projects. She also proved to be a first-class cleaner of carvings, as she gently removed years of dust, scorpions and cobwebs from the precious contents of Nik Rashiddin's and Norhaiza's storerooms with the aid of David's camera brushes.

My own role has been to act as a liaison for Nik Rashiddin, to initiate and develop contacts and sources of support, funding and promotion, to encourage and facilitate progress between the various areas of the projects and, in particular, to supply the necessary information for the captions which accompany the photographs. The most enjoyable aspects have been the research required to corroborate Nik Rashiddin's ideas, and the actual selection, care and mounting of the artefacts for both photography and exhibition. The greatest difficulty has been the need to rein in our overriding desire to exhibit everything. Everywhere we turned, we would discover yet another artefact of beauty and style. Luckily for us, our exhibition design architect, Jade Saw, was always on hand both to control these urges and to advise on the best way to showcase the pieces.

Several others offered invaluable advice, help and encouragement, which we accepted gratefully. Tan Joo Lee was responsible for the initial editing of the manuscript. Dr Annabel Gallop of the British Library gave us her support and advice from the very beginning of the project, as did Dr Rudin Sallinger. Dr Geoffrey Wade and Raimy Che Ross also contributed advice and helpful criticism. Zain Azahari gave us invaluable support in setting up the Kandis Resource Centre as well as being an articulate promoter of the project in the context of fund raising. D. P. Naban has now taken on the role of looking after the legal aspects of the project's existence. A huge debt of gratitude is owed to all these people.

Over the last few years, the time and patience given by both Nik Rashiddin and Norhaiza Noordin in explaining over and over again to an ever more diverse audience about the practicalities of woodcarving and the philosophy behind its art have borne fruit. People are now becoming informed about this most central of Malay arts. One of the earliest of these, Associate Professor Ismail Said of Universiti Teknologi Malaysia, is now himself writing and lecturing on the subject, and has been of great help in both checking the information in these pages and searching for answers to difficult questions. Further help has been welcomed from Datuk Dr Adi Taha, Director of Lembaga Muzium Negara, Dr Othman Yatim, Director of Muzium Seni Asia, Universiti Malaya, and the staff of the University of Cambridge Library who assisted in sourcing and reproducing photographs from the Royal Commonwealth Society Archive.

Tuan Haji Hamzah Abu was initially responsible for turning Nik Rashiddin's dream into reality. As Nik Rashiddin's patron in recent years, he has provided unstinting support and encouragement, both financial and moral. We also received a substantial contribution from Wan AzmiWan Hamzah, who remembers so well his childhood conversations with the woodcarvers living near his home in Kelantan, and who has provided the main sponsorship for the publication of this book. His understanding and support have been a lifeline. We can thank here also all the early donors, in particular, HE Ambassador Kiyohiko Arafune, Kumpulan Guthrie, Hijjas and Angela Kasturi, Datuk Khatijah Ahmad and the General Boumeester Trust. As we go to press, the Ministry of Culture, under the ministerial direction of Datuk Paduka Abdul Kadir Sheikh Fadzil, has promised us much appreciated assistance. For others who have contributed after the publication of the book, our thanks are no less heartfelt.

We are also supremely grateful to Eric Oey, CEO and Publisher of Periplus Editions, who has undertaken to publish the book, and to editor Noor Azlina Yunus who nursed the book from manuscript to print.

Finally, we are immeasurably grateful to another great man, YTM Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah, who listened to us and believed in us when only the barest outline of the proposal was laid out. Tengku Razaleigh is himself a product of the same Langkasukan heritage that we believe gave birth to this remarkable woodcarving tradition, and it is his support and encouragement that has enabled this project to come to fruition.

It is our profound hope that all these individuals will find their reward in the renewed flowering of Malaysian woodcarving.

DATIN WAVENEY JENKINS

Endnotes

1.  The author would like to acknowledge Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein and Henry Brownrigg for their helpful comments and suggestions during the writing of this chapter.

2.  See Clifford Geertz, Local Knowledge, New York: Fontana Press, 1993.

3.  Two of the most popular tales in the region are, of course, the Malay rendition of the Mahahharata epic, the Hikayat Pandawa, and the Burmese—Thai rendition of the Buddhist Jataka tale, the Jataka Wetsandon. In the Hikayat Pandawa Lima (The Epic of the Five Pandawas), the five Pandawa brothers are forced to go into exile in the forest after losing their kingdom to the dastardly Korawas in a dicing match. Ultimately, the family of bad gamblers regain their ancestral rights and privileges after enduring and surviving numerous trials and tribulations in the forest. In the Jataka Wetsandon, Prince Wetsandon (Vesantara), is sent into exile in the forest along with his family after he decided to give away the kingdom's prized sacred white elephant to the wandering Brahmin. This move, though motivated by Prince Wetsandon's desire to renounce worldly power, incurs the wrath of the people as well as the king, who promptly sends his wayward son into the unforgiving wilderness. After surviving numerous ordeals, Prince Wetsandon is reunited with his father and ultimately assumes the throne and crown. It is clear that in both these stories, the forest serves as purgatory for the central characters who are forced to brave a number of dangerous encounters in the woods before they can assume their rightful place in society once again.

4.  For a discussion on how traditional Indian woodcarvers approached their work, see Bruno Dagens (trans.), Mayamata: An Indian Treatise on Housing Architecture and Iconography, New Delhi: Sitaram Bhartia Institute for Scientific Research, 1985. Dagens points out that traditional Indian woodcarvers had very strict codes and rules which determined which types of trees and wood could be used for particular ends. The material used for religious and sacred architecture and sculpture, in particular, had to come from sources that were not 'contaminated' by negative spiritual or moral influences, such as violence, abnormal and unnatural environmental conditions, etc.

5.  See Fred B. Eiseman, Jr., Bali: Sekala & Niskala, Essays on Society, Tradition and Craft (Vol. 2), Singapore: Periplus Editions, 1990, pp. 212—213. Eiseman notes that traditional mask makers in Bali used wood from the punyan pule tree, which was found in Bali as well as some parts of Oceania. The tree has always enjoyed a specially revered status as a sacred wood. So important is the punyan pule tree that Balinese woodcarvers even have a specific ritual that they need to perform before felling it. The masks that are made from the tree are also thought to have sacred properties and energies. Barong masks that are made from the same punyan tree are thought of as 'brother' barongs, and considered 'relatives'. In cases where the wood is felled to make particularly sacred and powerful masks, it is first taken to the Balinese temple where it is consecrated and 'purified' by the priests before it is carved.

6.  Eiseman notes that in parts of Indonesia such as Bali, the wood that was used for building and sculpture was taken from trees that were living. It was therefore necessary to 'sacrifice' the tree by killing it before its time. Balinese woodcarvers regarded this as the most critical and complex stage of their work, and called on the priests to help them. 'Offerings are then made to the tree and only then can it be "sacrificed" for lumber' (p. 195). After the purification of the wood, the woodcarver works on his material. When his task is completed, he calls upon the priests to help him 'reanimate' the wood again so that it can regain its energy and life-sustaining force. This is particularly true for wood that has been used to make buildings, where a specific ceremony known as melaspas is called for in order to bring the building back to life before it can be inhabited by human beings (p. 199).

7.  There are at least five main types of cutting and carving instruments commonly employed by Malay woodcarvers till this day. These include the gergaji (saw), pisau hiris (cutting/carving knife), pahat (chisel blade), kikir (hasp) and pengokok (a tool used for scraping and refining carved surfaces). Most of these tools were made by the carvers themselves. In the early days, the blades for these tools often came from rocks and stone formations found close to the woodcarver's habitat. These days imported throatcut razors are usually used. Other tools like the kapak (axe), cetar (adze) and ketam (plane) were also made locally. The different types of sharpening stones were also collected on hillsides by the woodcarvers themselves.

8.  The belief that the wooden house was a living entity endowed with natural forces and energy is not unique to the Malay Peninsula but applies also to much of the Malay archipelago. This belief system has been studied by scholars like Eiseman and by Water son, who have dubbed the Malay house as the 'living house' of Asia. See Roxana Water son, The Living House: An Anthropology of Architecture in South-East Asia, Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1990. Further afield, similar beliefs can be found in the tradition of woodcarving in Thailand, Korea, Japan and the Indian subcontinent.

9.  For the production of Manora masks, for instance, the wood-carver would look for wood that had come from a tree where three branches used to grow. For the construction of the Burung Gagak Sura, the ceremonial bird used in state festivals and celebrations, woodcarvers would look for wood from a tree where a sapling has taken root from a seed deposited by a squirrel or a bird. These arcane and obscure requirements have more to do with the symbolic internal universe of the pagan Malays of the pre-Islamic past than with the rigid social universe of the traditional Malay-Muslims of today, but their influence lives on among traditional woodcarvers.

10. See Anjum Rehmani, 'The Significance ofTraditional Cosmology for Contemporary Arts', in Wan Abdul Kadir and Hashim Awang AR (eds.), Seni dan Kosmologi, Akademi Pengajian Melayu, University of Malaya, 1997, p. 29.

11. See Abdullah bin Muhammad (Nakula), 'Penggunaan Simbol-Simbol dalam Kosmologi dan Kesenian', in Wan Abdul Kadir and Hashim Awang AR (eds.), Seni dan Kosmologi, Akademi Pengajian Melayu, University of'Malaya, 1997.

12. See Cheah Boon Kheng, 'Power Behind the Throne: The Role of Queens and Court Ladies in Malay History', Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic. Society, Vol. 66, Pt. 1, 1993.

13. See Wayne Bougas, 'Some Early Islamic Tombstones in Patani', Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. 59, Pt. 1, 1986.

14. For a detailed account of batu Aceh, see Othman Mohd Yatim, 'Batu Aceh: Early Islamic Gravestones in Peninsular Malaysia', Kuala Lumpur: United Selangor Press, 1998.

15. Smitthi Siribhadra and Elizabeth Moore, Palaces of the Gods: Khmer Art and Architecture in Thailand, Bangkok: New Cavendish Books, 1993.

16. See Bougas, 'Some Early Islamic Tombstones in Patani'.

17. See Ismail Said, Spesis-spesis Kayu dalam Seni Ukiran Melayu, Johor Bahru: Penerbit Universiti Teknologi Malaysia, 2001.

18. See Smitthi and Moore, Palaces of the Gods.

19. From 'The Giant Bird' by Tan Sri Dr Mubin Sheppard al Haj, Straits Times Annual, Kuala Lumpur: Berita Publishing, 1986; reproduced with the kind permission of Lavender Buckland.

20. See G. B. Gardner, Keris and Other Malay Weapons, Singapore: Progressive Publishing Co., 1936.

21. The author would like to express his heartfelt thanks to Rosnawati Othman for her help in writing this chapter. Rosnawati's own research into the field of Malay woodcarving has proven to be a valuable source of information, without which the writing of this chapter would not have been possible.

22. For a definition of semangat, see 'The Semangat of Wood', page 21 of this volume.

23. The myopic tendency to view the past as an alien environment totally divorced from the realities of the immediate present is everywhere around us today. We have argued elsewhere that the same fate that has befallen the world of Malay woodcarving has been shared by that other totem of Malay identity, the famous Malay blade known as the keris. The keris was once seen as the emblem of Malay culture and identity and in this one object was invested a plethora of meanings and significations. Over the course of history, however, the keris was diminished in both its use and meaning thanks to the combined effects of modernization, secularization and religious reform in the Malay-Muslim world. As the traditional weapon of the Malays is reduced to the level of a kitsch object made for the local and foreign tourist market, the keris itself is invariably reduced to what it essentially was—a common knife, bereft of the socio-cultural, political, magical, talismanic and totemic significance it once possessed. See Farish A. Noor, 'From Majapahit to Putrajaya:The Keris as a Symptom of Civilisational Development and Decline of the Malays', fo urnal of Southeast Asian Studies, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, Vol. 8, No. 3, 2000.

24. See H. Ling Roth, Oriental Silver work: Malay and Chinese, London: Truslove and Hanson, 1910.

25. Sadly, Roth's discussion of the themes and motifs found in Malay art stops at a superficial level only. In his work Oriental Silverwork: Malay and Chinese, he identifies a number of key principles at work in Malay art, such as the need to introduce and maintain balance, harmony and distance in the compositions themselves, the Malay propensity towards balancing dense decorative sections by juxtapositioning them next to blank spaces, etc. But Roth never attempts to explain the underlying philosophical and cultural reasons for this form of art.

26. For a further discussion of the development of symbolism and cosmology in Malay art, see Osman Bakar, 'The Importance of Cosmology in the Cultivation of the Arts', and Rahmah Bujang and Wan Abdul Kadir Wan Yusof, 'Manifestasi Kosmologi Dalam Kesenian Melayu', in Wan Abdul Kadir and Hashim Awang AR (eds.), Seni dan Kosmologi, Kuala Lumpur: Akademi Pengajian Melayu, University of Malaya, 1997.

27. The rejection of anthropomorphic and naturalistic forms and styles that grew more widespread with the coming of Islam to the Malay world from the thirteenth century onwards is not a mere accident of history. Islam, it must be remembered, is part of the Abrahamic tradition of monotheistic creeds that specifically rejects any dualistic or polytheistic worldview. Like its sister Semitic creeds, Judaism and Christianity, Islam developed a cultural and aesthetic canon of its own that was predicated on a monotheistic view of the world. The unity of God (tauhid) happens to be one of the central tenets of Islam and this theme is reproduced at practically every level of Muslim life, including Islamic art. Seen from this perspective, naturalistic art which tries to mimic and reproduce living animal and human forms is seen as bordering on the sacrilegious. The artist who tries to faithfully reproduce and mimic the natural world in his artistic work is seen as transgressing certain boundaries and hierarchies between God and creation. Throughout the development of Islamic civilization, Muslim artists and craftsmen have preferred to reduce the naturalistic dimension in their work and instead focus their creative energy and output on more conceptually abstract themes. This shift from the naturalistic to abstract register was clearly seen in the development and evolution of Malay keris hilts in particular. For a further discussion of the impact of Islam on the evolution of Malay keris art, see Farish A. Noor, From Majapahit to Putrajaya.

28. For a thoroughgoing discussion of the symbolism of the stupa and its meaning in Hindu architecture, see Bruno Dagens, Mayamata.

29. The mountain/peak has been a recurring motif not only in the plastic arts of the Malay peoples of the archipelago, but also in their culture, literature and history. In the Malay rendition of the Indian epic, the Mahabharata, known as the Hikayat Pandawa Lima, we read of the great mountain to which the Pandawas will return in the aftermath of their great battle with the dreaded Korawas, their evil cousins. Having eliminated their adversaries, the courageous Pandawas come to realizing that they have also sealed their own fate. By destroying their opponents, who were their constitutive other, the Pandawas had effectively robbed themselves of their own reason for living. As they make their way up the great Mahameru mountain, the five brothers and their wife, Draupadi, begin to expire one by one. Clearly, the mountain here represents the labours and pains of life itself. The image of the sacred mountain is also found in the Sejarah Melayu (Malay Annals), which is probably one of the most famous of the classical courtly (kerajaan) texts of the pre-colonial era. Apart from providing a royal genealogy of the sultans of Melaka that goes all the way back to Iskandar Dzulkarnain (otherwise known as Alexander the Great), the text provides us with a vivid record of courtly protocol and the management of the highly sophisticated and efficient Melakan state and its economy. The text also features an expanded genealogy of the rulers of Melaka which traces their birth to the sacred mountain in Palembang, south Sumatra. See Munshi Abdullah (Abdullah Abdul Kadir), The Sejarah Melayu, or Salalatu'l Salatin (The Malay Annals), Djakarta and Amsterdam: Djambatan Press, 1952. For an English translation of the text, see C. C. Brown (ed. and trans.), Sejarah Melayu (The Malay Annals), Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1952.

30. One of the salient features of pre-Islamic Malay society was its adaptation of the Hindu caste system which split society into four distinctive groups: the brahmins (priests), ksatriyas (warrior-elites), vaishyas (merchants) and sudras (menial workers). In some parts of the Malay archipelago, such as Bali, the system was further developed. There the three top levels (brahmana, satria and wasia) formed a tripartite bloc known as the triwangsa, who together kept in subjugation the sudra masses. With the coming of Islam, many of the normative practices of the Hindu-Buddhist courts were slowly erased. But it would be wrong to assume that the coming of Islam led to a levelling out of Malay society in any way. In most of the Malay kingdoms that adopted Islam as the official religion of state, we can see that a selective adaptation of Islam has taken place among the ruling elite, in particular. This involved the adoption of certain elite-centric understandings of Islam and Islamic normative practices. In the case of the Sultanate of Melaka, for instance, the Melakan rulers were keen to adopt the tradition of Persian kingship, where the ruler (sultan, raja) was identified as the personification of God's rule on earth. Thus, it could be said that both during the Hindu-Buddhist and Islamic periods, Malay society was very much hierarchical and structured in a pyramid-like way with a singular ruler or elite group situated above the masses. For a more detailed account of the coming of Islam, see Syed Hussein Alatas, 'On the Need for a Historical Study of Malaysian Islamization', Journal of Southeast Asian History, Vol. 4, No. 3, 1963; S. Q. Fatimi, Islam Comes to Malaysia, Singapore: Malaysian Sociological Research Institute, 1963; and Syed Naguib Al-Attas, Preliminary Statement on a General Theory of the Islamization of the Malay—Indonesian Archipelago, Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1963.

31. O. W Wolters confesses: 'I have taught earlier Southeast Asian history for a number of years and I have chosen to chart my course through different parts of the region at particular times rather than to try and demonstrate that "Southeast Asia" possesses some predestined regional and historical identity which is disclosing itself over the centuries. My approach probably began as a reaction against the general assumption when I entered the field that earlier Southeast Asian history could be studied from the perspective of "Indianized states." More than enough evidence seemed available to indicate widespread Indian cultural influences, and this circumstance undoubtedly encouraged scholars to see the region as having an historical identity of its own. Indian ward proclivities never satisfied me, and I increasingly eschewed efforts to organise my lectures around overarching regional-scale themes. Instead, I concentrated my attention on sub-regional histories wherever the material made this possible I began to enquire whether a regional history could be distinguished in the shape of cultural communalities and intra-regional relationships.' See History, Culture and Region in Southeast Asian Perspectives, rev. edn., Ithaca: Southeast Asia Program Publications and Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1999.

32. Ibid.

33. Wolters, History, Culture and Region.

34. George Coedes, The Indianized States of Southeast Asia, London: George Allen and Unwin, 1954.

35. Paul Wheatley, The Golden Chersonese: Studies in the Historical Geography of the Malay Peninsula before AD 1500, Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press, 1961.

36. Wheatley, The Golden Chersonese.

37. See Foreword in Ibrahim Syukri (trans. Connor Bailey and John N. Miksic), History of the Malay Kingdom of Patani, Ohio: Center for International Studies, Ohio University, 1985; first published 1949.

38. Wheatley, The Golden Chersonese.

Glossary

A

Acuan putu Biscuit mould. Also called sarang putu, karas putu.

Adab Customs, especially relating to the handling; of trees.

Ana kayam Keris style, lit. chick. See Jawa demam and seiuk.

Anak wali Parang variant, with a more sharply curved blade.

Angsana Pterocarpus indicus. Popular wayside tree 12-15 m in height. Honey-coloured hard-wood with a rippling grain. Used for keris sheaths, furniture and housing. Also called sena. Aring Top layer of keris blade.

Awan larat Motif, lit. meandering clouds. Term for style of carving, often including unending, recurrent spirals.

B

Badek Dagger. Often used by women. When the British discouraged the wearing of keris in the late 19th century, many were converted to badek which could be concealed in clothing.

Bangau Egret, heron. Also refers to sail rest/sailguard on perahu.

Bayam peraksi Motif. Type of weed.

Benih Seed.

Bongor Lagerstroemia speciosa. Wood with a decorative grain commonly used for keris sheaths.

Buah butong Stupa-shaped carving. Architectural feature, used upright as finials.

Buah lebah bergantung Stupa-shaped carving used hanging down to suspend lamps or hide the ends of beams.

Buah pinang Lit. betel nut. Rounded base of keris hilt.

Bumbung limas Hipped roof.

Bumbung panjang Long ridge roof.

Bunga Flower or motif.

Bunga Cina Motif. Gardenia (Gardenia jasminoides).

Bung a kenang a Motif. Tree with scented green flowers.

Bung a kerak nasi Motif. Lit. rice scrapings from the bottom of a rice pot. Creeper with flowers like rice scrapings.

Bunga/Daun ketam guri Motif. Flowers/Leaves of a common grass.

Bunga/Daun ketumbit Motif. Flowers/Leaves of a common garden herb.

Bunga pepulut Motif. Hayseed.

Bunga putu Motif. Roseate flower form, represented singly or in a pattern.

Bunga tanjung Motif. Mimusop elengi. Tree with white, sweet-smelling flowers. Often found in repeating rows as a border or as infill.

Bunga telepuk Motif. Water plant.

Bunga teratai Motif. Lotus.

Burung Gagak Sura One of several names of symbolic mythological birds used in royal Malay ceremonies such as installations and circumcisions.

C

Caping Navigational aid in the bow of a boat. It fastens the bangau and okok to the hull. Also the top shape of a keris sheath.

Celagi Tamarind (Tamarindus indica). A hard, dark wood favoured for parang handles.

Cempaka Motif. Michelia alba. Sweet-scented flowering tree.

Cendana Sandalwood (Santalum album), used for carvings.

Cengal Neobalanocarpus heimii. Tall forest tree, 18-24 m. Once grown in compounds of royal or wealthy people in Kelantan. Hard and insect resistant. Used for buildings and boats.

Cepu ke laut Fisherman's water-tight food container.

Cetar Adze, tool used to block out the initial shape of carving.

Corak Pattern.

Coreng Grain of wood.

D

Damaru Hourglass-shaped double ended drum. One of Siva's attributes in Hindu iconography.

Daun Leaf.

Daun bakawali Motif. Epiphyllum oxypetalum. A night-flowering cactus.

Daun bawang bakong Motif. The long leaves of the bakong lily (Crinum aseaticum).

Daun bayam Motif. Leaves of the common spinach.

Daun dala Motif. Creeper.

Daun dew a Motif evolved from the makara into a leaf or floral form. Also daun Langkasuka.

Daun jari buaya Motif. Lit. crocodile's claws. Fleshy, spiny-toothed leaves of the aloe plant.

Daun Langkasuka Referred to also as the Langkasukan motif. See daun dewa.

Daun Melayu Motif. Further evolution of daun dewa in the 19th century. Hindu origins are lost. Also known as daun ssayap.

Daun mempelas Petrea volubilis. Leaf of shrub used as sandpaper.

Daun sayap Motif. Wing-like leaf, evolved from Langkasukan motif. See daun Melayu.

Daun sukun Motif. Leaf from the breadfruit tree (Artocarpus altilis), with serrated edges.

Daun tar Motif. Borassus flabellifer. A fan-shaped palm leaf. Also known as lontar.

Delima Pomegranate (Tunica granatum). A tree with a many-chambered globular fruit and many seeds, the inspiration for carving patterns.

Dewa Deity. Hindu deities such as Siva, Vishnu, Ganesh, Bima and Arjuna were thought to have inspired the shapes of early keris hilts, especially Siva and Vishnu.

E

Ekor merak Motif. Lit. peacock's tail, found on the top of some keris hilts.

G

Gading Ivory. Used for carving some keris hilts.

Gaharu Aloe wood (Aquilaria malaccensis). A shiny black wood, believed to have spiritual qualities, used in parts of the Malay archipelago for making hilts.

Gajah menyusu Lit. suckling elephant. A roof type for small extensions to the Malay house.

Garuda Mythical mount of the Hindu god Vishnu.

Garuda mungkur Protective amulet worn by deities and kings. On keris hilts, it takes the form of a pyramidal shape at the back of the head.

Gayung Ladle, often used for scooping water over the feet before entering a house or mosque.

Gemia (Bouea microphylla). A reddish hardwood used for making keris hilts and sheaths.

Gigi paus Lit. whale tooth. Refers to both whale and walrus tooth used in carving.

Gobek api Early fire striker, used especially for lighting cigarettes.

Gunimgan Motif. Cosmic mountain. The topmost triangular element of a facade signifying status. It is restricted to certain objects, i.e. mimbar masjid, pintu gerbang, main entrance doors, and jebak puyuh. In Wayang Kulit, the pohon budi (tree of life) represents the gunungan.

Guru asal Ancestral teacher; spiritual contact with past traditions and civilizations.

H

Halban Vitex pubescens. Small, bushy tree, 6-9 m in height, with a gnarled trunk. Its tough, light hardwood is used for practical objects, e.g. fishermen's toolboxes, coconut scrapers and rice scoops.

Hantu duri Lit. thorns of a ghost. Thorn tree (Zanthoxylum rhetsa).

Hulu Handle or hilt of a keris; in Malay referred to as hulu keris.

I

Ikan pari Stingray. Its dried skin is often used as a form of sandpaper to finish off carvings.

Ilmu Knowledge, learning.

Imam Respected member of an Islamic community, not a priest, who leads the congregation in prayers, usually in a mosque.

Istana Palace.

J

Jalur Striped effect in polished wood.

Jambul Spike on the top of a parang blade.

Jari buaya See daun jari buaya.

Jati Teak (Tectona grandis). A hard-wearing, weather-resistant wood with little grain. Used for furniture and panelling. Mostly grown in Thai and Burmese forests.

Jawa demam The best known keris style. See Sejuk.

Jebak puyuh Quail trap.

K

Kacang Motif. Bean family. The leaves are commonly represented as tendrils. See sulur kacang.

Kakaktua Cockatoo. Keris hilts from Terengganu are commonly carved in the shape of a cock-atoo head.

Kala Creature from Hindu mythology, whose face is featured, albeit often subliminally, in carving. A symbol of protection.

Kampung Village.

Kangkung Motif. Water convolvulus.

Kapas Cotton tree.

Kasar Rough; opposite of halus (refined).

Kayu Wood.

Kelewang Type of parang, with a curved blade, often with a makara motif on the horn handle. It is used as part of the formal dress of commoners, not royalty. It was a highly effective weapon in battle.

Kemuning Chinese myrtle (Murraya paniculata). Forest tree, 6-12 m in height. A superb hardwood with a subtle, distinctive grain, honey to rich brown in colour. It is prized for keris hilts and sampir. The best wood is taken from the root or base of the trunk of a naturally dead tree grown in stony, infertile ground. Variants include kemuning buah kekut, kemuning buah lada and kemuning limau.

Kenaung Diospyros ebenum. Very dark brown to black hardwood used for keris hilts, often referred to as ebony. Also used medicinally for scorpion and centipede bites. Grows in southern Thailand.

Kerak nasi See bunga /daun kerak nasi.

Kerdas Style of hilt often found with keris Bug is.

Kerinting Ripples visible in the wood grain of angsana and kemuning after an item has been polished.

Keris A Malayan and Indonesian stabbing or slashing knife with undulations (Iok) along both edges. Also spelt kris, crease and creese.

Keris Bugis The most common type of keris, found all over the Malay world. It is primarily a warrior's keris, with strong and masculine characteristics.

Keris Jawa demam Lit. feverish Javanese. The hilt is shaped in the form of a crouching or squatting humanoid figure with arms crossed close to the body.

Keris Kelantan A type of keris from Kelantan, usually with an anak ayam hilt.

Keris naga Pattani Keris with a depiction of a naga on the blade.

Keris panjang Keris with a straight blade, often part of the ceremonial dress of royalty of the Malay Peninsula. The hilt may depict one of the Hindu deities in varying degrees of abstraction set amidst foliage.

Keris pipit teleng Style of hilt commonly found in Terengganu, its shape derived from the common sparrow.

Keris pusaka Heirloom keris, spiritual guardian of its owner.

Keris tajong Type of keris found only in Pattani and Kelantan. See Tajong.

Ketamguri Sec bunga /daun ketamguri.

Ketengga Merrillia caloxylon. A forest hardwood with an obvious grain, used for keris sheaths.

Ketumbit See bunga /daun ketumbit.

Kotak ke laut Fisherman's tool box.

Kubur Grave.

Kukuran Coconut scraper. Also called kukur kelapa.

L

Lidi Spine of leaf from the palm family, e.g. coconut, used for making the cage-like basketry at the back of quail traps.

Lok Undulations on the sides of the keris blade, always uneven in number.

M

Makam Gravesite; graveyard.

Makara Motif. Sea monster originating from Hindu mythology. A symbol of protection, especially for fishermen.

Mak Yong Traditional dance drama of Kelantan and Pattani.

Masjid Mosque.

Medang hitam Litsea myristicaefolia. A light, very hard and rare wood with a beautiful grain and a soft grey colour.

Merbau Intsia palembanica. Forest tree, IS m in height, with reddish hardwood used for secondary structures in building.

Mihrab Niche in a mosque indicating the direction of Mecca.

Mimbar Mosque pulpit.

Mudra Meditative posture.

N

Naga Motif. Dragon or serpent.

Nangka Jackfruit (Artocarpus heterophyllus), 6-9 m tall. It is regarded as a spiritual wood. Used for religious objects and musical instruments because of its resonance and lightness.

Nesan Gravestone; gravemarker.

Nyawa Breath of life.

O

Okok Anchor rest/guard for a perahu. Also a navigational aid.

P

Padi A field kept flooded with water and used for growing rice; paddy.

Pagar Fence or wall of a compound.

Pamor The patterns in the keris blade achieved by forging layers of iron of varying compositions.

Pan dan Motif. Pandanus odoratissimus. Plant with spiky, fragrant leaves used in cooking.

Pandei Saras Style of keris blade named after a famous early Pattani blade forger, Tok Saras.

Parang Large-bladed knife or cleaver used for hacking. It was developed in the late 18th century as part of formal dress.

Pela Colour of wood.

Pelita Oil lamp or lamp stand.

Pemeleh Decorative element or crown normally placed over doors (pemeleh pintu). Named after the forehead.

Pemeleh rumah Shaped barge-boards on the eaves of traditional Kelantan houses.

Pendokok The loose and normally decorative cup at the base of a keris handle. It is made of metal, often silver or gold.

Perabung Spine along the top of the long ridged roof of traditional Malay houses.

Perahu Traditional fishing boat. Also called proa and prau.

Peria Motif. Bitter gourd. The leaves and shoot are represented as tendrils.

Periuk kera Motif. Monkey pod plant, a type of climbing pitcher plant.

Perkaka Elongated form of the sejuk hilt, erroneously called the tajong.

Petola Motif. Climbing plant producing edible gourds.

Pintal tali Motif. Rope pattern.

Pintu dapur Lit. kitchen door. The doorway at the rear of the traditional Malay house mostly used by women.

Pintu gerbang Formal entrance gates or gateway to a palace, graveyard, etc.

Pintu pong Small side door(s) set into the pintu gerbang.

Pisau wal i Carving knife used to etch out the detail on a carving.

Pohon budi Lit. Bodhi tree. The tree of life or primordial tree. A leaf-or tree-shaped leather puppet used to open and close performances of the Wayang Kulit.

Pokok getah sapan A tree yielding sap which, mixed with camphor oil, is used as a varnish for finishing woodcarvings.

Pucuk Motif. Shoot or sprout.

Pucuk kacang Motif. Bean shoot.

Pucuk paku Motif. Fern shoot.

Pucuk rebung Motif. Bamboo shoot.

Punca The source of a motif or where a design begins.

Punca air Water source.

Punca benih Seed source.

Punca bunga Flower source.

Punca pasu Pot or container source.

Punc a rahsia Hidden source.

Putik Bud.

R

Rebab A two-or three-stringed musical instrument (spike fiddle) of Middle Eastern origin. The wooden parts are ornately carved and brightly painted.

Rehal Book rest, most often used for supporting the Holy Koran.

Renek Chatoyance or the changeable lustre of certain woods when polished.

Ribu Type of fern membrane used for making the basket-like cage of quail traps. Ribu-ribu (plural).

Ruh Spirit of life Rumah padi Small hut raised on wooden posts in which rice seed is stored.

S

Saga kenering Motif. Type of creeping plant with red, black-spotted beans.

Sampir Crosspiece of the keris sheath, usually in the shape of a boat or a half moon.

Sangkar Birdcage.

Sarong A skirt-like cloth worn by both men and women in Malaysia. Malay sarung.

Sejuk keris Style similar to Jawa demam.

Semangat Inner spirit or spirit of life.

Senduk Serving spoon.

Serunai A wind instrument, like a clarinet.

Sesiku Ornamental bracket or bracing supporting a roof.

Setar Bouea macrophylla. A very hard wood sometimes used for sheaths.

Sirih Motif. Betel leaf. Slices of areca nut and other ingredients are wrapped in sirih and chewed as a mild stimulant.

Sisip angin Ventilation space between the eaves and walls of a traditional wooden house.

Siva Hindu deity. See dewa.

Songket Material woven with gold or silver supplementary weft threads on a silk background.

Sopan Cultured.

Stupa A domed edifice housing Buddhist or Jain relics. The shape is seen in carved finials.

Sulur Motif. Tendril.

Sulur bayu Lit. windblown tendrils. The uptilted design normally found at the ends of pemeleh, pintu gerbang, etc.

Sulur daun sayap See daun sayap.

Sulur kacang Motif. Bean sprout.

Surau Prayer room, sometimes an old mosque.

Susun sirih Motif. Pattern resembling a folded sirih leaf.

T

Tajong Definitive hulu keris style from Kelantan and Pattani, named after the Pattani perahu or fishing boat. Originated from representations of the Hindu deity Siva. The elongated 'nose' is reminiscent of Wayang Kulit puppets. It is often wrongly termed perkaka.

Tali Rope.

Tampuk manggis Motif. The pedicel of the mangosteen fruit.

Tebar layar. Fan-shaped feature usually on the gable ends of east coast timber houses.

Tebuk separuh Low-relief carving technique; not pierced.

Tebuk tembus Technique for piercing woodwork or carving.

Tebuk tembus berukir Fully pierced and carved woodwork.

Telur buaya Motif. Lit. crocodile egg; corak telur buaya: crocodile egg pattern

Telur ikan Motif. Lit. fish egg. Motif commonly used to decorate hilt cups (pendodok)

Teras Core or heartwood found only in certain woods, desirable for carving.

Teratai See bunga teratai.

Thuluth Style of Islamic calligraphy common in woodcarving.

Tiang Post. The major supports of a traditional Malay house.

Tikam seladang Motif. Type of climbing shrub with clusters of scented flowers.

Topeng Mask used in dance dramas, especially in Bali.

U

Ukir To carve.

Ukiran Carving.

Ukiran area Carving in the round, sculpted.

Ukiran berlapis High relief, layered carving.

Ukiran khat Carved Islamic calligraphy.

Unduk-unduk Motif. Seahorse motif on keris blade.

V

Vishnu Hindu deity. See dewa.

W

Wayang Kulit A form of traditional theatre in which images or shadows of two-dimensional skin or leather (kulit) puppets representing characters from a variety of stories are cast upon a screen by a puppeteer.

Bibliography

Abdul Halim Nasir, Traditional Malay Wood Carving, Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1987.

Abdullah bin Muhammad (Nakula), 'Penggunaan Simbol-Simbol dalam Kosmologi dan Kesenian', in Wan Abdul Kadir and Hashim Awang AR.(eds.), Seni dan Kosmologi, Kuala Lumpur: Akademi Pengajian Melayu, University of Malaya, 1997.

Anjum Rehmani, 'The Significance of Traditional Cosmology for Contemporary Arts', in Wan Abdul Kadir and Hashim Awang AR (eds.), Seni dan Kosmologi, Akademi Pengajian Melayu, University of Malaya, Kuala Lumpur, 1997.

Benda, H. (ed.), TheWorld of Southeast Asia, London: Harper and Row, 1967.

Bougas, Wayne, 'Some Early Islamic Tombstones in Patani', Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. 59, Pt. 1, 1986.

Brown, C. C. (ed. and trans.), Sejarah Melayu (The Malay Annals), Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1952.

Cheah Boon Kheng, 'Power Behind the Throne: The Role of Queens and Court Ladies in Malay History', Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. 66, Pt. 1, 1993. ChenVoon Fee (ed.), Architecture, The Encyclopedia of Malaysia, Vol. 5, Singapore: Archipelago Press, 1998.

Coedes, George, The Indianized States of Southeast Asia, London: George Allen and Unwin, 1954.

Dagens, Bruno (trans.), Mayamata: An Indian Treatise on Housing Architecture and Iconography, New Delhi: Sitaram Bhartia Institute for Scientific Research, 1985.

Eiseman, Fred B. Jr., Bali: Sekala & Niskala: Essays on Religion and Art (Vol. 1); Essays on Society, Tradition and Craft (Vol. 2), Singapore: Periplus Editions, 1990.

Endicott, K. M., An Analysis of Malay Magic, Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1970.

Farish A. Noor, 'From Majapahit to Putrajaya: The Keris as a Symptom of Civilisational Development and Decline of the Malays', Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, Vol. 8, No. 3, 2000.

Fatimi, S. Q., Islam Comes to Malaysia, Singapore: Malaysian Sociological Research Institute, 1963.

Gardner, G. B., Keris and Other Malay Weapons, Singapore: Progressive Publishing Co., 1936.

Geertz, Clifford, Local Knowledge, New York: Fontana Press, 1993. Ghiringhelli, Vanna, 'Keris Hilt Materials', Arts of Asia, Hong Kong, Sept/Oct 1997.

Gibbs, Phillip, Building a Malay House, Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1987.

Gimlette, John D., Malay Poisons and Charm Cures, London: J. and A. Churchill, 1929.

Hilton, R. N., 'The Basic Malay House', Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. 29, No. 3, 1956.

Ibrahim Syukri (trans. Connor Bailey and John N. Miksic), History of the Malay Kingdom of Patani, Ohio: Center for International Studies, Ohio University, 1985; first published 1949.

Ismail Said, Spesis-spesis Kayu dalam Seni Ukiran Melayu, Johor Bahru: Penerbit Universiti Teknologi Malaysia, 2001.

Kamaruddin Mohd Ali, 'The Vanishing Heritage: The Old Traditional Malay House', MA thesis, University ofYork, 1983.

Lim Jee Yuan, The Malay House: Rediscovering Malaysia's Indigenous Shelter System, Pulau Pinang: Institut Masyarakat, 1987.

Maxwell, George, In Malay Forests, London: William Blackwood and Sons, 1907.

Milner, G. (ed.), Natural Symbols in Southeast Asia, London: School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, 1978.

Munshi Abdullah (Abdullah Abdul Kadir), The Sejarah Melayu, or Salalatul Salatin (The Malay Annals), Djakarta and Amsterdam: Djambatan Press, 1952.

Osman Bakar, 'The Importance of Cosmology in the Cultivation of the Arts', in Wan Abdul Kadir and Hashim Awang AR (eds.), Seni dan Kosmologi, Akademi Pengajian Melayu, Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya, 1997.

Othrnan MohdYatim, 'Batu Aceh: Early Islamic Gravestones in Pen-insular Malaysia', Kuala Lumpur: United Selangor Press, 1998.

Rahmah Bujang and Wan Abdul Kadir Wan Yusof, 'Manifestasi Kosmolog i Dalam Kesenian Melayu', in Wan Abdul Kadir and Hashim Awang AR (eds.), Seni dan Kosmologi, Kuala Lumpur: Akadem i Pengajian Melayu, University of Malaya, 1997.

Raja Bahrin Shah bin Raja Ahmad Shah, The Terengganu Timber House, Kuala Lumpur: Badan Warisan Malaysia, 1988.

Roth, H. Ling, Oriental Silverwork: Malay and Chinese, London: Truslove and Hansom, 1910.

Salinger, Rudin, 'Malay Woodcarving', in The Crafts of Malaysia, Singapore: Archipelago Press, 1994.

Sheppard, Mubin, 'Four Historic Malay Timber Buildings', Tederation Museums Journal, Vol. 7, 1962.

_____ 'The Giant Bird', Straits Times Annual, Kuala Lumpur: Berita Publishing, 1986.

_____ Taman Indera: Malay Decorative Arts and Pastimes, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1972; reprinted as A Royal Pleasure Ground: Malay Decorative Arts and Pastimes, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1986.

_____ 'Traditional Malay House Forms in Trengganu and Kelantan', Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. 42, No. 2, 1969.

Skeat, William W., Malay Magic: Being an Introduction to the Polklore and Popular Religion of the Malay Peninsula, London: Macmillan, 1900.

Smitthi Siribhadra and Moore, Elizabeth, Palaces of the Gods: Khmer Art and Architecture in Thailand, Bangkok: New Cavendish Books, 1993; reprinted Bangkok: Asia Books, 2001.

Syed Ahmad Jamal, Form and Soul, Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1994.

Syed Hussein Alatas, 'On the Need for a Historical Study of Malaysian Islamization', Journal of Southeast Asian History, Vol. 4, No. 3, 1963.

Syed Naguib Al-Attas, Preliminary Statement on a General Theory of the Islamization of the Malay—Indonesian Archipelago, Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1963.

van Duuren, David, The Kris: An Earthly Approach to a Cosmic Symbol, Wij ken Aalburg, the Netherlands: Picture Publishers, 1998.

Waterson, Roxana, The Living House: An Anthropology of Architecture in South-East Asia, Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1990.

Wheatley, Paul, The Golden Chersonese: Studies in the Historical Geography of the Malay Peninsula before AD 1500, Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press, 1961.

Wilkinson, R. J. (ed.), Papers on Malay Subjects, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1971; first published 1907.

Winstedt, R. O., The Malay Magician: Being Shaman, Saiva and Sufi, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1961; first published as Shaman, Saiva and Sufi: A Study of the Evolution of Malay Magic, London: Constable, 1925.

Wolters, O. W, History, Culture and Region in Southeast Asian Perspectives, rev. edn., Ithaca: Southeast Asia Program Publications and Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1999.

Zaharahbte Hj. Mahmud, 'The Period and Nature of Traditional Settlement in the Malay Peninsula', Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. 43, Pt. 2, 1970.

Keris Perkaka Pusaka (KW100), an important royal keris; Kelantan, mid-19th c; walrus tooth hilt, angsana wood sheath; silver hilt cup; 49 x 17.5 x 11 cm. The nine-/ok blade is exceptional, as is the abstract simplicity of the hilt.

Index

Note: Numbers in italic refer to illustrations.

A

Abdullah Ibrahim, 160

Achras zapota, see sawo

acuan putu, 92-3, 92, 93, 94, 95

adab

of trees, 25, 36

of woodcarving, 40, 41-5

aloe, see gaharu anak ayam, 128, 136

anakwali, 103, 104

ancestor, see guru asal

anchor guard/rest, see okok

angsana, 32, 32, 113

Anjum Rehmani, 51

Aquilaria malaccensis, see gaharu

Arjuna, 128

Artocarpus heterophil his, see nangka

awan larat, 52, 90-1, 106, 141, 142-4, 143

B

badek, 103 badek makara, 152, 159

badek Terengganu, 131

Balai Besar, Kota Bharu, 37

balau, 33

bamboo shoot, see pucuk rebung

bangau, 108, 110, 111

banyan, see waringin

bargeboard, see pemeleh pintu

bas-relief technique, see tebuk separuh batin, 17, 20

BatuAceh, 56, 58

bean shoot, see pucuk kacang

bean sprout, see sulur kacang bed frame, 34-5

benih, 51, 52

betel nut set, see tepak sirih bhakti, 154

Bima, 128

bird trap, see jebak puyuh

birdcage, see sangkar

biscuit mould, see acuan putu bomoh, 93

bongor, 32, 36

book rest, see rehal

Bouea macrophylla, see setar

Bouea microphylla, see gemia

Bougas, Wayne, 56, 58, 72

bracket, see sesiku Braddel, Ronald, 155

breath of life, see ruh buah buton, 55, 68, 68, 75, 79, 80, 149, 150, 156-7

buah lebah bergantung, 68

bumbung limas, 74

bumbling panjang, 72, 74

bunga, 55-6

bunga cempaka, 146

bunga Cina, 51

bunga kemunting, 149

bunga kenanga, 128

bunga kerak nasi, 14, 34-5, 87, 97, 114

bunga ketam guri, 96, 136, 147

bunga ketumbit, 86, 87, 131

bunga matahari, 89

bunga Melayu, 130, 131

bunga melur, 56

bunga pepulut, 56, 80, 97

bunga putu, 73, 93, 95

bunga sesayap, 134

bunga tanjung, 10, 22-3, 29, 73, 82-3, 92, 100, 125, 133, 134, 135, 145

bunga telepuk, 50

bunga tempang, 80

bunga teratai, 24, 51, 52, 55, 60, 64, 66, 67, 72, 75, 79, 80, 118, 120, 128, 129, 130, 132

bunga tikam seladang, 129

bungor, see bongor Burung Berarak, 33

Burung Gagak Sura, 114-15

burung kakaktua, 111

Burung Petala Indra, 116, 116, 151

C

calligraphy, 84, 85, 95

caping, 108, 110, 112

carving knife, see pisau wall carving tools, 38, 41-2

Cassia laevigata, see tayuman celagi, 36

Celtic knot design, 78

cendana, 36 cengal, 19, 33, 92

cepu ke laut, 112, 113

cerana sirih, see tepak sirih

ceremonial bird, 14, 114-15, 116, 116

chakravartin, 154

Champa, 153, 155

charms, 18-19

chatoyance, see renek Che KuTuan Nawi, 57

grave, 60-1 Che Long, 91

Cheng Ho, 154

Chinese myrtle, see kemuning

circumcision procession, 108

cleaver, see parang cockatoo, see

burung kakaktua coconut scraper, see kukuran

coconut shell, 96

coconut tree, 93

Coedes, George, 155

colour, of wood, see pela

corak garuda berjuang, 102, 103

corak unduk-unduk, 113

coral, 137

core, of wood, see teras

coreng, 30, 40

crocodile claws, see jari buaya

crocodile claws pattern, see daun jari buaya

crocodile eggs, see telur buaya

crosspiece, see sampir

cultured, see sopan

customs, see adab

D

dagger, see badek damaru, 120, 126

dance drama, see MakYong

daun, 95

daun bakawali, 82-3

daun bawang bakong, 80

daun bayam, 96

daun bayam peraksi, 86, 88, 142, 144

daun dala, 90-1

daun dewa, 66, 92, 95

daun jari buaya, 111, 112

daun ketam guri, 80, 136, 140, 141

daun ketumbit, 64, 66, 82-3, 86, 87, 112, 125, 131, 141

daun Langkasuka, 9, 10, 13, 16, 21, 25, 42-3, 55, 58, 59, 60, 61, 63, 64, 66, 67, 70, 72, 73, 75, 82-3, 85, 92, 99, 101, 107, 113, 118, 120, 120, 124, 126, 127, 129, 130, 134, 140, 142, 146, 147, 148

daun Melayu, 10, 29, 82-3, 121, 126, 128, 130, 135, 145

daun mempelas, 44

daun sesayap, 29, 34-5, 59, 64, 88, 125, 127, 134, 146

daun tar, 87, 98

devaraja, 154

Diospyros ebenum, see kenaung

door crown, see pemeleh pintu

doors, 68, 69

dragon, see naga

Dysoxylum acutangulum, see trembalo

E

ebony, see kenaung

ekor inerak, 134

Elateriospermum tapos, see perah

Endicott, K. M., 24, 25

entrance gate, see pintu gerbang

F

fascia boards, 68

fern shoot, see pucuk paku

finial, 140

fish egg pattern, see telur ikan

fish scale pattern, 87

fisherman's food box, see cepu lie laut

fisherman's tool box, see kotak ke laut

fishing boat, see perahu flower, see bunga

flower source, see punca bunga forest, 17-18, 25

frangipani, 56

fully pierced and carved technique, see tebuk tembus berukir

Funan, 153, 155

G

gaharu, 33 gajah menyusu, 72 Ganesh, 128

Ganga, 108

gardenia, see bunga Cina

Garuda, 114, 128

garuda, 116, 142

gateways, 53, 55, 68

gayung, 92, 96, 97

Geertz, Clifford, 17

gemia, 36

getah sapan, 44

gobekapi, 103, 105

gold thread cloth, see songket

gong frame, 106

grain, of wood, see coreng

gravemarker, see nesan

gravestone, see nesan gunungan, 55, 148, 150

jebak puyuh, 100, 101, 101, 102, 103

Koran, 29

mimbar, 26-7, 55, 62, 65

pemeleh, 80, 149, 156-7

pintu gerbang, 37, 53, 82-3, 149, 156-7

putu acuan, 93

guruasal, 11-12, 42, 44,

H

halban, 36, 36, 93

halus, 17, 19

hanging stupa, see buah lebah bergantung

hari-hari dewasa, 44

hayseed, see bunga pepulut

hidden source, see punca rahsia

high relief carving, see ukiran berlapis

Hikayat Merong Mahawangsa, 160

Hindu-Buddhist mythology, 55

Hindu motifs, 92, 128

Hindu mythology, 108

honeycomb grid, 95

household objects/artefacts, 92-3

hulu bangsa agung, 120

hulukens, 10, 20, 21, 36, 40, 119-20

hulu keris coteng, 120, 120

I

I-Ching, 158

I-Hwei, 158

ikan pari, 44

ilmu, 18

ilmujalak, 41

inner, see batin

Intsia palembanica, see merbau

Islam, 24, 55, 56, 121

Islamic influence, 9, 15, 16, 55, 121, 128, 145, 148 

istana, 47

Istana Balai Besar pintu gerbang, 158

sesiku, 16

Istana Sri Akar screens, 50, 51

Istana Sultan Muhammad Shah panels, 85

Istana Tengku Zaharah sesiku, 70, 71

ivory, 124, 132

J

jackfruit, see nangka

jalur, 30, 31

jari buaya, 56

jasmine, see bunga melur Jatayu, 116

jati, 33

jebakpuyuh, 6, 22-3, 92, 100, 101, 101, 102, 103

Jentayu, 116

K

Kala, 55, 72, 88, 92, 92, 93, 94, 147

Kandis Resource Centre, 161

kangkung, 56, 80, 80-1

kasar, 17, 19

kayu, 19-20

care and storage, 39-40

types, 32-3, 36-7

Kedah vinnals, see Hikayat Merong Mahawangsa

kelewang, 103, 104-5

kemuning, 25, 30, 30, 32, 36-7, 39

kemuning buah ketut, 36

kemuning buah lada, 36

kemuning limau, 3

kenaung, 32, 36, 131

kerak nasi, 56

kerinting, 30, 31

keris, 4, 119-20, 128

keris Bug is, 134

keris hilt, see hulu keris

keris Jawa demam, 130, 131, 133, 135, 136

keris Kelantan, 136

keris kerdas Pattani, 119, 131

keris pahlawan, 9, 119

keris panjang, 128, 129, 130, 132, 133

keris perkaka, 121, 33

keris pipit teling, 134

keris Srivijaya, 128

keris tajong, 8, 9, 10, 20, 21, 41, 118, 120-1, 120, 121, 122-3, 124, 125, 126, 127, 145

keruing, 44

ketam guri, 24, 26-7, 56, 143

ketengga, 36

ketumbit, 40, 149

Kleinhovia hospita, see tomoho

knowledge, see ilmu

Koran, 29, 55

inscription, 26-7

kotak ke laut, 113, 113

Kubur Baharom, 56, 58

KuburTok KuTuan Syed Muhammad Ahmad, 52, 57, 59

gateway, 53

kukur kelapa, see kukuran

kukuran, 92, 93, 96-7, 98, 99

L

ladle, see gayung

Lagerstroemia speciosa, see bongor

Lamb, Alister, 155

lamp stand, see pelita

Langkasuka, 9, 11, 56, 153-60

Langkasuka motifs, see daun Langkasuka

leaf, see daun

leban, 92

Liang-shu, 155

liar, 17

lingkungan kerja, 44

lintel, 69

Litsea myristicaefolia, see medang hitam

lotus, see bunga teratai

M

MakYong, 55, 130, 160

makara, 22-3, 54, 55, 58, 72, 80, 92, 104, 108, 108, 109, 110, 111, 152, 159

Malay art, 15-16

Malay civilization, 15

Malay cosmology, 20-1, 24

Malay house, 33, 47, 48-9

Malay leaf, see daun

Melayu Malay woodcarving

as art, 140-1

codes, 141-2

future, 150-1

mandala, 153-4

masjid, 63

Masjid Aur Mcnatjung, 72

panels, 13, 73, 146

window, 73

Masjid Ba' Pu, 69

door lintel, 160

mimbar, 62

Masjid Kampung Laut, 63

Masjid Losong mimbar, 67

Masjid Pulau Condong, 74, 76-7

minaret, 68

spiral, 40

Masjid Telok Manok panel detail, 85

Masjid Wadi Husin, 46

king post, 79

panels, 78

roof, 75

sisip angin, 45

mask, see topeng master craftsman, 11

mata hati, 11, 12

Maxwell, George, 17, 24

medang hitam, 13, 33, 107, 112

Memillia caloxylon, see ketengga merbau, 33, 36

Michelia alba, see bunga cempaka mihrab, 63

mimbar, 62, 63, 64, 67

gunungan, 26-7, 55, 62, 65

panels, 25, 42-3, 63, 66

monkey pod, see periuk kera Moore, Elizabeth, 57

mosque, see masjid mosque niche, see mihrab

mosque pulpit, see mimbar mother-of-pearl, 130, 136, 137

motifs, see bunga sources, 56-7

Mount Meru, 55, 58

Muhammad V, Sultan of Kelantan, 37

mungcung garuda, 120, 121, 125, 127

Murraya paniculata, see kemuning musical instruments, 101

mythological sea monster, see makara

N

naga, 101

nangka, 30, 33, 106, 113

nature, 13, 16-19

Navel of the Great Lake, see Pusat Tasek

Neobalanocarpus heimii, see cengal nesan, 56-7, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61

Nik Rashiddin Nik Hussein, 12, 55, 57, 161

carving, 96, 106, 111, 124, 132, 134, 136, 141

design, 160

drawings, 21, 60, 109, 111, 119, 122-3, 140, 143, 145, 147, 151, 159

Nik Rashidi Nik Hussein, 161

Norhaiza Noordin, 47, 55

carving, 82-3, 89, 134

drawings, 24, 39, 40, 69, 70, 73, 74, 85, 93, 97, 109, 119, 132, 146, 148, 149, 150, 160

nyawa, 24, 39

O

okok, 108, 110, 111

Osman Bakar, 142

P

padi, 39

Pak Su Mat, 160

palace, see istana pamor, 134, 137

Pandai Saras style, 125, 136

panels, 13, 25, 42-3, 63, 66, 73, 78, 85, 85, 86, 87, 88-9, 90-1, 138, 140, 146, 147

parang, 103, 104

pauh hutan, 36

Pauh Jangi, 16

peacock's tail, see ekor merak

pela, 30, 40

pelet, see tomoho pelita, 92, 93

pemeleh pintu, 37, 80, 82-3, 108, 149, 156-7, 158

pendokok, 20

perabung, 74

perah, 33

perahu, 108, 770

periuk kera, 90-1

Petrea volubilis, see daun mempelas petua kerja, 44

piercing technique, see tebuk tembus, tebuk temus berukir pintaltali, 99, 121

pintu dapur, 84

pintu gerbang, 31, 37, 56, 80, 80, 149, 156-7, 158

pintu pong, 156, 157

pisau wall, 12, 38, 39

pitcher plant, see periuk kera

pohonbudi, 21, 93, 94, 108

pomegranate, 51, 138

post, see tiang pot source, see punca pasu

Pterocarpus indicus, see angsana pucuk kacang, 48-9, 136

pucukpaku, 10, 56, 95, 124, 127, 131, 152

pucuk rebung, 20, 55, 60

pulpit, see mimbar punca, 9, 12, 85

punca air, 50

punca benih, 50, 51

punca bunga, 86

punca pasu, 80

punca rahsia, 88, 89

PusaraTok Pelam, 149

Pusat Tasek, 16

pyramid, 121, 148, 150

Q

quail trap, see jebak puyuh

R

Rahmah Bujang, 142

Raja Biru, 56

Raja Hijau, 56

grave, 57

Raja Kuning, 56

Raja LongYunus, 57

Raja Marekah, 56

Raja Ungku, 56

Ramayana, 116

rebab, 101, 106

refined, see halus rehal, 13, 92, 93, 107

renek, 32

resak, 33

resin, 44

rice scrapings, see kerak nasi

rice storehouse, see rumah padi

ripples, of wood, see kerinting rituals, 41

roof, hipped, see bumbung limas

roof, long ridge, see bumbung panjang

roof spine, see perabung

rope pattern, see pintal tali

Rosnawati Othman, 161

Roth, H. Ling, 15, 142

rub, 24

rumah padi, 39, 120

S

saga kenering, 22-3, 98

sailguard, see bangau

sampir, 9

sandalwood, see cendana sangkar, 101

Santalum album, see cendana sawo, 36

screens, 50, 51, 76-7

seahorse pattern, see corak undukunduk

seed, see benih

seed source, see punca benih

sejuk, 128, 130, 133

semangat, 19, 24, 39, 92

semangat kayu, 24, 28-30, 39, 45, 52, 139

semangat kerja, 45

sena, see angsana senduk, 92

sepetir, 33

serpent, see naga serunai, 101

serving spoon, see senduk

sesiku, 16, 17, 61, 68, 69, 70, 141, 156-7

setar, 36

shadow puppet theatre, see Wayang Kulit

shaman, see bomoh

Sheppard, Mubin, 116

Shorea spp., see balau

shutters, 73

side door, see pintu pong

Sindora spp., see sepetir

sirih, 107

sisip angin, 45, 68, 69, 76-7, 78

Siva, 92, 120, 128, 154

Skeat, W.W, 24

songket, 32

sopan, 17

source, of designs, see punca spiral, 40, 55, 66, 72, 95, 100, 119, 120, 120, 121, 121, 124, 125, 126, 134, 135, 141, 142-4, 142, 144, 148, 152

spirit of life, see nyawa

Srivijaya, 153, 155

starfruit wood, 106

stripe, of wood, see jaim

stupa, 62, 74, 101, 103, 104, 105, 148, 150

stupa finial, see buah buton

suckling elephant, see gajah menyusu Sulaiman b. Ahmad al Mahri, 154

sulurbayu, 37, 56, 67, 100, 106, 108, 144, 148

sulur daun sayap, 125

sulur kacang, 55, 89, 124, 126

sunflower, see bunga matahari Surau Kota

sesiku, 70

Surau Langgar

mimbar, 25, 42-3, 64, 65, 66

swastika motif, 45, 76-7, 78

symmetry, 145-7

T

Tamarindus indica, see celagi

tampuk manggis, 129, 134

Tao-Lin, 158

Tauhid, 24

tayuman, 36

teak, see jati

tebuk separuh, 80

tebuk tembus, 68

tebuk tembus berukir, 13, 68, 70, 176-7, 80, 114

Tectona grandis, see jati telur buaya, 87

telurikan, 20, 118, 134

tepak sirih, 92, 107

teras, 30

third eye of Siva, 9, 125

Tibbetts, G. R., 154

tiang, 47, 68

Tok Ku Tuan Syed Muhammad Ahmad

grave, 57, 59

tomoho, 36

topeng, 33

tree of life, see gunungan; Pauh

Jangi; pohon budi

trees, 16-20

felling, 37-8

trembalo, 36

U

ukiran berlapis, 80

Unity of God, see Tauhid

V

Varuna, 108

Vatica spp., see resak

ventilation panels, see sisip angin

Vishnu, 128, 129

Vitex spp., see halban

W

Wales, H. Quaritch, 155

walrus tooth, 133

Wan Abdul Kadir WanYusof, 142

waringin, 25

water convolvulus, see kangkung

water source, see punca air

Wayang Kulit, 20, 108, 111, 160

weapons, 103

whale's tooth, 131

Wheatley, Paul, 155, 160

wild, see liar

windblown tendril, see sulur bayu

windows, 68

wood, see kayu

Wu-peichih, 154, 158

Wyatt, David, 159

Z

zahir, 20

Various floral motifs employed in woodcarving. Drawing by Norhaiza Noordin.