Amenk at a Glance: From Bandung and Plans in Taiwan
By Irfan Popish
Taipei, January 19, 2024
“I think we need some visual works for this exhibition,” said Jeph Lo from TheCube Project Space, an arts space in Taipei where I will be holding an exhibition in August 2024, during an online meeting.
The exhibition will revolve around the topic of my thesis: how the people of Bandung localized The Rolling Stones and made it a part of their living culture. “Wait, I think I have a friend who might be suitable for this topic,” I replied, commenting on Jeph’s suggestion.
“Assalamualaikum, Pa Amenk. Damang? Boleh aku telepon kalau salse (Amenk, how are you? May I call you when you’re free?),” I quickly sent a WhatsApp message to Mufti “Amenk” Priyanka, a well-known artist from Bandung, right after the meeting with Jeph. We talked in our local language, Sundanese.
“Mangga, Fan! (Sure, Fan!),” Amenk quickly replied.
“Geus pasti cocok si Mang Amenk mah! (Amenk is definitely suitable for this exhibition),” I thought to myself before pressing the call icon in the top right corner of the app.
“Halo Mang, nuju woles? (Hello Mang, are you free?),” I started the conversation.
Bandung, 2017
My personal acquaintance with Amenk is still fairly recent, dating back to around 2017 when I was working on the book Bandung Pop Darlings. Initiated by OmniSpace, a creative space one floor above the famous indie store, Omuniuum, we watched the film 24 Hour Party People and discussed it in a local context as an introduction and insight for the book that had just reached its first year of development.
“Factory Records is truly indie,” said Amenk enthusiastically, commenting on the movie before it was even shown.
But as is typical of young people involved in Bandung’s scene, I had known Amenk much longer through his work. Not only in visual art but also in music through his band A Stones A. Even my band, Piccadilly, had been featured on the same compilation as his band in the NIMS (2014) compilation, released by Bandung scenester, Rangga Kuntara and friends under the name Sussex Records.
In my personal journey, as someone not deeply versed in visual arts, Amenk’s work strikes me as nonchalant, with unconventional themes, yet far from detached. What he captures is the everyday life, especially about us living in Bandung. Punk kids and street food vendors might be what we know about street punk, more understandable than the Anfield punk style on the decks of Liverpool’s harbor, which we only know through the media. And then there’s punk on a prayer rug—depicting the struggle of identity between Western counterculture and the faith that has become not only religious values but also family norms. In short, Amenk’s work reflects all of us.
Over the years, we gradually got to know each other better, through the various cultural circuits that intertwine with one another, and through the same familiar faces in the scene. Although I have not lived in Bandung since 2014, social media kept us connected. Whenever I returned home, we might meet at Dipati Ukur Casette stall in a discussion about cassettes or greet each other at friends’ gigs. I remembered we even had the same motorcycle, the modest Honda Supercub 800. Amenk was also the moderator when I launched my book Bandung Pop Darlings in 2019, so there was always something to talk about with him.
Tangerang, December 14, 2020
“Ieu sareng Irfan Syllado? (Is this Irfan Syllado?),” Amenk sent me a message. Syllado is the last pen name of Indonesian music critic from Aktuil Magazine, Remy Sylado.
“No, I’m Irfan Syllabus hahaha,” I replied, playing along with his joke.
Though it started with a joke, Amenk was actually about to share something quite serious: his master’s research was nearing its breaking point. Not only did he need to be ready to defend his work, but he also needed a publication in the media. Coincidentally, at the time, I was still working for Pikiran Rakyat daily. A local newspaper founded in 1966.
But that wasn’t the important part. What intrigued me was how Amenk discussed Cicadas, a densely populated area that—according to the article Amenk sent me at the time—played a role as a cultural circuit with all its unique issues. In the article titled Gemah Ripah Lho Kumuh (2020), Amenk dissected the history of the Cicadas district through its paradoxes, his findings today, and his interpretations, which were then reflected in his works and his character: Chinese ink on paper.
And as if by divine stroke, who would have thought that one or two years later, an abstract of Amenk’s work on Cicadas would significantly help my research today.
So, after Bandung Pop Darlings, I began unraveling the puzzle of why Bandung youth in the 1990s so wholeheartedly emulated their Brit pop heroes—not only in music but also in lifestyle and substance. Through conversations with Brother Harry Pochank at Ruang Putih, the puzzle pieces fell into place, revealing that this fanaticism did not start through MTV but through Western pop culture missionaries like Sabri (Aktuil Magazine Founder), Roesli (Harry Roesli, one of important musicians from Bandung), and Stanzah (The Rollies, Superkid, etc). The last name even gained cult status with all his mythical stories. If you trace this westernization further, it can be linked back to the very founding of Bandung, which Helena Spanjaard described as a Western laboratory.
Thus, if this topic is to serve as a prequel to *Bandung Pop Darlings*, Amenk’s research on Cicadas is something I cannot overlook.
Taipei, January 22, 2024
Returning to another meeting in Taipei, I proposed Amenk as one of the exhibitors for the exhibition I’m curating. After, of course, getting his agreement. My reasoning feels strong—Amenk’s work clearly captures this phenomenon, and he understands its roots. Not to mention the cheeky quotes he includes, which reinforce the message in his illustrations. Even though Amenk often says, “Thanks, but I didn’t intend for it to be interpreted that deeply,” his work clearly represents a natural image of how Western counterculture negotiates with local values. And he is not “trying to be” but is indeed “a part of” that environment. That makes Amenk irreplaceable.
I told the forum, maybe I could assign a videographer or photographer to record and photograph the environment that nurtures The Rolling Stones’ music in Bandung. How the tongue and lips murals are printed on many of the city’s dingy alleyways. But the sense would certainly be different. Amenk creates with full awareness and passion, not just as an assignment.
“Cool. So can you put him into this proposal? Like exhibiting some works from him,” responded TheCube.
Amenk will go to Taiwan.
Bandung-Taipei, May 2024
“Muhun insya Allah segera sehat deui yeuh (Sure, God willing, I’ll recover soon),” Amenk said in a brief message to me on May 16, 2024, at 7:49 PM Taiwan time.
It seemed like the second week since I heard that Amenk had been hospitalized due to a lung disease that had struck him. “Edun ieu panyawat (This illness is crazy),” Amenk said about his condition when I asked him last week.
Understanding Amenk’s condition, our conversations no longer focused on which works he would exhibit, though I already had Gemah Ripah Lho Kumuh in mind as a key piece. Most of our brief chats throughout May were about Amenk’s progress in recovery.
Once, he said, “Sakinten sih ti kamari, ngan aya masih leuleusna (Yesterday, I was feeling better. Just a bit weak).”
Or: “Nambru (Terrible), threw up blood again two days ago.”
But being Amenk, he seemed to refuse to complain. There was always some optimism in every text he sent. Like “My lungs are fine now,” “This hospital specializes in this kind of illness, so they know how to handle it,” and he almost always closed with, “Insya Allah abi ge optimis tetap (God willing, I remain optimistic).”
When I offered to inform others, Amenk often declined. “Ah, teu Fan. Wios (Ah, no need, it’s okay),” he would say. He didn’t want to trouble anyone.
Hsinchu, June 7, 2024
The last time I exchanged messages with Amenk was on June 1, 2024. It seems we almost never discussed the exhibition anymore, focusing instead on Amenk’s condition. Once, he even sent his last self-portrait to show his current state. His body was very thin, though still with an optimistic text, “Sakinten sih, teu aya deui sesek. Bareuh berkirang (It’s better, no more shortness of breath. The swelling has decreased).”
Honestly, I was already quite worried. And on June 7, my worries came true.
Through some friends’ posts on social media, I found out that Amenk had passed away. Koh Iyus (Popstore Indo, Senikanji) was the first person I asked to confirm the news. And yes, it was true. Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un (We surely belong to Allah and to Him we shall return)
I was, of course, devastated. But I had to be strong enough to inform many people involved with Amenk and the exhibition to decide the next steps.
“Amenk has passed away, please pray for him before we decide how the exhibition will proceed,” I said in the exhibition group chat. The friends in Taiwan were, of course, shocked, and one by one, they expressed their condolences over Amenk’s passing.
“But I hope I can still bring his works to Taiwan,” I said.
“Yeah, they are meaningful,” replied Jeph.
