The call “Baleo! Baleo!” is heard on the coast of the Indonesian village of Lamalera when the fishermen have spotted a whale. For the villagers, the centuries-old cry means that the ancestors will show themselves with the appearance of the whale and bestow their blessing on the village. “Ocean Cage” is inspired by the stories of the Lamalera inhabitants and focuses on questions of solidarity, economic coexistence and disappearing ecosystems. Through dance, film and music, director and visual artist Tianzhuo Chen creates an immersive and visually powerful maelstrom in which the dancer Siko Setyanto becomes the central protagonist. Together with the musicians Kadapat and Nova Ruth, a mix is created that oscillates between belief in progress and tradition, spirituality and technology. “Ocean Cage” premiered at HAU Hebbel am Ufer on May 4th, 2024.

Petra Poelzl: Good evening, everyone. Thanks for staying for the talk after this intense show. My name is Petra Poelzl, I work at HAU as a curator for dance and performance. I'm sitting here with Tianzhuo Chen, an artist from Beijing, now based in Berlin. Tianzhuo is very talented in mixing different genres like dance, performance, music, video, installation into different kinds of happenings. Siko Seytanto is a dancer and choreographer based in Jakarta who started dancing when he was nine years old. Japanese culture, ballet, and modern jazz styles are a significant influence on his work. Nova Ruth is a musician, singer, activist, and the co-founder of Arka Kinari, a floating cultural platform in the form of a 70-tonne sailing ship, on a mission to foster resilience to climate change and reconnect people with the sea. Finally, we have Kadapat – a collaboration between Yogi and Barga. In their music, they blend traditional gamelan music with electronic and experimental sounds with instruments that they both partly made themselves.

First, let’s speak about “Ocean Cage” and the whole process behind it, Tianzhuo and Siko. The point of departure is the island of Lamalera, a fishing village on the island of Lembata in Eastern Indonesia, where you also both have travelled to several times. You are both still in contact with the people living there, as friendships have evolved. This island is very remote and it's known for its traditions and rituals related to whaling and fishing. Around 100 years ago, a German missionary arrived and introduced Catholicism to the animistic beliefs of the locals. In the opening scene, you present a video that centres on this syncretism. I would like to know more about the process. Where did you start? Where did you go? How did you find all the material? How did you work together?

Siko Setyanto: When I first met Tianzhuo, he asked me, “Have you ever tried  lobster?” I said that I never tried it. And he said, “How come you live in Indonesia with that huge ocean and never tried lobster?” I answered, “In Indonesia, lobster is so expensive.” He kept talking about fish, and suddenly he sent me a picture of Lamalera, which, despite being from Indonesia, I never visited. Lamalera is known for traditional whale hunting. Even nowadays, the fishermen on the island believe that when you hear the words “Baleo, Baleo”, it signifies God's blessing, so they should hunt. When they pass away as  humans, they will be reborn as a whale to feed the people. That's their culture. It's not only about whaling. It's about the circle of life.

Tianzhuo Chen: I don't remember the lobster part at all. (laughs) But yes, we were so inspired and touched by the way people on the island coexist with other species - not just fish, not just whales, but also with their ancestors and their Gods. Their prey is also their ancestor. This symbiotic coexistence was really the core of how we constructed this piece.

I always feel that nothing can compare to the performance, the magic on stage, and the distance between us, between the performer and the audience. I do not like seated theatre performances that much. Often, I feel as though I am looking at a human too much like an object on stage. That's why I've always tried to create this immersive quality. In “Ocean Cage”, the audience stands face to face with Siko – who by the way is such an amazing performer and friend.

Petra Poelzl: Siko, you're going through different characters in “Ocean Cage”. Can you tell us a little bit about them?

Siko Setyanto: Basically, “Ocean Cage” is fiction. We tried so hard to understand the culture of the Lamalera people, and we read a lot about it. In the end, we have created three layers: the first layer is a fisherman, followed by the ancestor and the God. 

Tianzhuo Chen: We filmed the three characters in three different places: The ancestor scenes were mainly shot on Lamalera, while we filmed most of the God part in Berlin at Trauma Bar, which felt like shooting in a studio. And we filmed the whales in Mauritius. So, there’s quite a lot of different footage pieced together for this video. Everyone was dedicated to making it happen. Siko learned how to swim in order to make the video. Nate, who shot the video material, took a diving course to capture footage underwater. He's an amazing camera person, but shooting underwater is a different challenge; he had to learn to freedive.

Siko Setyanto: Going back to Mauritius was also essential for filming  the whales there. In Lamalera, it wasn't really possible to find whales because of the climate change, and the presence of large tourist ships. The island's belief systems around whaling and fishing are falling apart, because the fish and whales don't come there as much as they did before. 

Tianzhuo Chen: I read that recent research shows international cargo ships are passing through whale territorial waters, turning the area into an ocean highway. This greatly affects the migration paths of sperm whales, resulting in fewer whales passing through the Savu Sea. However, the  Lamalera people are unaware of this; they believe that their lack of success is due to their sins – straying from their ancestors' traditions and defying the will of God. They feel punished for returning home empty-handed.

Petra Poelzl: How is your relationship to the island of Lamalera, Nova Ruth?

Nova Ruth: Well, I have never been to Lamalera, but I've been to the neighbouring island. That's how the last song in the piece was created. When our ship – the Arka Kinari that you just mentioned in your introduction – visited that island, we had many amazing experiences. We went to some of the most remote places of Indonesia, including Lamakera, where I discovered that the best and worst experiences can happen simultaneously. The island is divided into two halves: one half believes that whaling should stop, while the other half still believes in whaling, but in a very greedy way. They were conducting bombings that they didn’t want anyone to witness. We were welcomed with an incredible ritual by the other half of the island, but the port is on the main part of the island, where some people were already planning to burn down our boat. That's how the song came about—how people can perceive or judge certain intentions.

As for Lamalera, I'm sure the tribe there thinks that the absence of fish was their fault. But the real reasons are first of all, climate change, and secondly, overfishing in the area by larger, more industrial boats. The good news is that last year, on the way to Australia, we passed through the Banda Sea and I saw at least seven whales in one day, still migrating towards the north of Indonesia.

Petra Poelzl: You mentioned your boat, Arka Kinari. As far as I understand, you seek to rekindle vanishing trade routes with culture as its cargo to bring communities back to the waterfronts. Yuo’re now living on that boat and sailing the Indonesian waters to share tales of climate resilience and solutions.

Nova Ruth: The project started in 2019. Since then, I have been living completely on the boat. When Tianzhuo contacted me about joining this project, I was like, I also have experiences with the whaling island. This kind of fate and connection sometimes seems unavoidable. It was that moment when the boat was being delivered from Australia back to Indonesia, so it was possible for me to come to Berlin. I try to combine travels with other activities that are along the way. We cannot travel across the world for just one show.

Petra Polzl: Can you tell us a bit more about the other songs you are performing in “Ocean Cage”?

Nova Ruth: The first song is called “Liminality”. It's about meditating and being in a liminal stage. The second one is called “Salah Mangsa”. In the lyrics, I ask people to imagine themselves as a moon, and to look down and see how humans are becoming increasingly disconnected from nature, missing its messages and signs. For example, I recently went to Tasmania to perform at a festival with the boat. One night, I noticed the moon was really red. I wondered if it was a blood moon, but it wasn't. What happened was that there was a forest fire somewhere, and the colour of that fire made the moon appear red. We spend so much time looking at a small screen that we have forgotten how to communicate with our surroundings. We have forgotten that we are part of nature. We have separated ourselves from nature. There are humans, and there is nature. But guess what? In my mother tongue, I cannot find the word “nature”. In my language, we never recognise nature as separate; we see ourselves as part of it. Even we from the Global South have started to forget that we are part of nature, often leaning towards Western theories that separate humans from nature. So, this song tells the story of the moon looking down on humans, saying: “Hey, humans, I give you signs all the time. When I'm gone, it’s not because I'm tired; I’ll return in the next two lunar weeks to give you another sign.” That's what the second song is about.

Petra Polzl: Kadapat, Yogi and Barga, the sound piece you created for “Ocean Cage” is also quite ritualistic, connecting with ancestors and Goddesses. Gamelan music stands at the core of your practice, which you mix with electronic music and more experimental sounds. As I understand, some of the music instruments you use are made by yourselves. Back home, you're also playing gamelan music in actual ceremonies for the ancestors and the Gods. Can you tell us a little bit more about your traditional music practice in Bali?

Yogi: The core of our music is gamelan, and we open the possibility to be more creative with electronics. In Bali, some people really don't like it when tradition is mixed with something electronic or modern. But when people say that, I just respond, “Why not?” I see gamelan as a tool, and electronics as tools as well. The same applies to the ceremonial aspects. From my point of view, this approach is connected to what Tianzhuo and Siko want to build for the ancestors, Gods, and fishermen.

In my religion, we perform yadna, which is a holy offering for certain beings - like God, ancestors, humans, priests, and the Butha, which we call the underground being, similar to ahsura or something negative. The two instruments we use are the metal one, called gènder, and the bamboo one, called jègog. They have very different dramaturgies. The gènder is used for ceremonies dedicated to God and ancestors, while the jègog is for human ceremonies. You will never see these instruments played in a club, and you will never see the jègog and gènder played together because they exist in different dimensions. The jègog is born from the farmers, while the gènder is considered a sacred instrument meant for offerings to God. It’s truly sacred. We control it with electronics. When we go through the creative process with Tianzhuo and Siko, it feels like a perfect match—the music and Siko’s dance. It’s not difficult to create; it’s really fluid.

Petra Polzl: What do you think we can learn from the people of the island and their oceanic world view? Is there something either of you have learned that you've taken with you, something that has changed or influenced your perception to a certain extent?

Siko Seytanto: I’m amazed by the simplicity of the people. I live in Jakarta - where it's crowded and metropolitan, busy life, everything must be precise. Suddenly, we were in Lamalera for days without water and surrounded by mosquitoes. It was so difficult. But there, the people are just smiling: “Oh, mosquitos? Let's go to the beach and sleep there.” They just dig a hole and sleep right there. It was a completely different way of life. After being there for several days, I realised how beautiful their lives are and how beautiful the place I live in is. To me, they are successful because they are happy with their lives. That's why I've become so emotional working on this project, “Ocean Cage.”

Even while dancing, it’s like a slideshow in my head—their smiles, their happiness, everything appears before my eyes. A trip from Jakarta to Lamalera takes around two and a half days. Indonesia is so rich in culture, and that’s why I need to travel more to understand the various cultures within Indonesia, as it allows me to embrace simplicity.

Petra Poelzl: Thanks so much for these words, Siko – and the insight.