Bagus Pandega is an Indonesian artist known for his immersive installations that fuse sound, light, and kinetic elements. Trained as a sculptor at the Bandung Institute of Technology, Pandega’s practice has evolved beyond traditional sculpture, embracing technology and mechanical systems to create dynamic, interactive works. His art reflects a deep engagement with urban life, resourcefulness, and the intersection of industry and nature—often drawing inspiration from small-scale repair shops, environmental crises, and the improvisational spirit of Indonesian cities. In conversation with CNTRFLD.ART, Pandega shares insights into his creative journey, the impact of his upbringing, and his exploration of art as an evolving process rather than a fixed endpoint.

CNTRFLD. Your artistic practice integrates sound, light, and movement into immersive installations. What initially drew you to this medium, and how has it evolved over time?

BP. Whilst studying at the Sculpture Studio of the Bandung Institute of Technology, I became fascinated by the sculptural process—the hands-on engagement, the material exploration, and the way forms gradually took shape. Over time, however, my excitement seemed to disappear once the sculpture was complete. I started to question what truly interested me in the process: was it the final object or the act of making itself?

During my university years, I encountered an installation work by the Japanese artist Ujino Muneteru. His approach to sound, movement, and repurposed materials completely shifted my perspective. It made me realize that sculpture didn’t have to be static or confined to traditional materials. It could be something dynamic, something that interacted with its surroundings in real time. Though focusing still on completing my studies as a sculpture student—my priority at the time was simply to graduate—I found myself drawn to exploring sound, kinetics and light, elements that I hadn’t deeply engaged with before.

Starting this new journey was challenging. I had no background in mechanical, electrical, or technical knowledge, so everything was unfamiliar. However, I did have one small connection to electronics: my father, an electric guitar collector, often asked me to fix or resolder broken cables and jacks. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but looking back, that experience introduced me to basic circuitry and problem-solving with electrical components.

From there, I started asking questions, discussing ideas with people who had more expertise, and slowly learning through hands-on experience. Each step led to new discoveries, and I gradually built my technical understanding. My goal was not just to acquire technical skills for the sake of it, but to ensure that technical limitations wouldn’t become a bottleneck or a burden on my creative ideas. I wanted the freedom to experiment, to bring my concepts to life without being held back by what I didn’t know.

This continuous learning process shaped the way I approach my work today—seeing art as an evolving exploration rather than a fixed endpoint.

CNTRFLD. Growing up in Jakarta and working in Bandung, how have your Indonesian heritage and upbringing influenced your approach to art?

BP. Growing up in Jakarta and working in Bandung, my Indonesian heritage and upbringing have influenced my approach to art in a more practical way rather than through traditional cultural references. I don’t come from a deeply rooted cultural background or engage in traditional artistic practices, so there’s no visual "exoticism" in my work. Instead, what has shaped my process is the influence of small, urban DIY industries that exist out of necessity rather than craftsmanship.

In cities like Bandung, there are countless small businesses—metalworking shops, electronic repair services, lathe and endmill workshops, and even motorcycle repair shops—that operate not as centers of refined craft but as practical, no-frills services that keep things running. They aren’t about artistry; they’re about function and survival. This environment has had a strong impact on how I approach making art. I often rely on these services, learning from their straightforward, problem-solving approach. It has taught me to be resourceful, to work with what’s available, and to prioritize efficiency over perfection.

Motorcycle services, in particular, are everywhere in urban Indonesia. These shops are not just places to repair bikes but hubs of improvisation, where mechanics find quick, affordable, and often unconventional solutions to technical problems. Seeing how they diagnose and fix issues with minimal resources has influenced the way I think about building my own works—breaking things down, modifying parts, and finding practical solutions within limitations.

My experience in Jakarta also contributed to this mindset. Growing up in a fast-paced urban setting, I was surrounded by overlapping sounds, dense structures, and an ever-changing cityscape. While this doesn’t translate directly into cultural imagery in my work, it has shaped my sensitivity to movement, rhythm, and material interactions—elements that are central to my exploration of sound, kinetics, and light.

Ultimately, my artistic practice is more influenced by the practical realities of urban life than by traditional narratives. The accessibility of these small industries allows me to experiment and develop ideas in a way that is grounded in the everyday mechanics of the city rather than in heritage or historical craft.

CNTRFLD. Your work often engages with industrial and mechanical systems while incorporating natural elements. What inspired you to explore this intersection?

BP. I was most aware of our deep dependence on nature during the COVID-19 pandemic. When there was a medical oxygen shortage in my city, people had to queue for hours, sometimes paying more than twice the usual price just to get oxygen. It was a moment that made me reflect on how fragile our human systems are—how, despite all our technological advancements, we still rely on the most fundamental elements of nature to survive.

The pandemic also felt like a temporary pause in human-driven destruction. With industries slowing down, urban air became noticeably cleaner, and nature seemed to reclaim spaces we had taken for granted. But after COVID-19, the cycle of exploitation resumed—this time under the justification of economic recovery. In Indonesia, we have an abundance of natural resources but accessing them often comes at the cost of large-scale rainforest destruction. Government policies and large-scale investments prioritize economic growth, often at the expense of the environment. Many of these decisions are made in urban centers like Jakarta, where economic planning is centralized and detached from the direct impact of deforestation. The forests—home to diverse ecosystems of plants, animals, and insects—are not just a local treasure but one of the world’s main oxygen producers. Yet, their destruction is framed as a necessity for progress.

This awareness has influenced my approach to art. My work often brings together industrial and mechanical elements with natural components, reflecting this tension between human systems and the environment. I don’t see nature as something separate from technology but rather as something deeply intertwined—something we depend on but often take for granted. By incorporating plant-based elements, sound, and kinetic components into my installations, I try to highlight these hidden connections, making people more aware of the delicate balance we are a part of.

Ultimately, my exploration of this intersection is about questioning how we engage with nature in an increasingly mechanized world. Are we using technology to coexist with natural systems, or are we just accelerating their destruction? Through my work, I want to challenge these ideas and explore ways in which humans, machines, and nature can exist in a more balanced and sustainable relationship.

CNTRFLD. How has your experience exhibiting and working abroad compared to Indonesia? From your perspective, how do different environments—whether in terms of artistic infrastructure, curatorial approaches, or audience engagement—shape the way your work is received?

BP. Exhibiting and working abroad has given me valuable insights into how different environments shape the way my work is received. The differences aren’t just about geography; they extend to artistic infrastructure, curatorial approaches, and audience engagement.

In Indonesia, the art scene is dynamic but operates within certain limitations. The infrastructure for experimental or interdisciplinary work—especially those involving technology, kinetics, or sound—is still developing. Many spaces are more accustomed to traditional mediums, and access to specialized equipment or materials can be a challenge. However, what Indonesia lacks in infrastructure, it makes up for in flexibility and improvisation. Artists often work collectively, supporting each other in production, exhibition-making, and knowledge-sharing. This collaborative culture is a big part of the art scene, as many artists rely on informal networks rather than institutional systems to make things happen. Working within collectives fosters a sense of shared resources and mutual learning, which has influenced the way I approach my practice.

Abroad, particularly in places with more established contemporary art institutions, I’ve noticed a stronger emphasis on curatorial frameworks and research-based approaches. There is often more access to resources, technical support, and specialized expertise, which allows for deeper experimentation with materials and technology. In terms of audience engagement, there’s also a difference in how people interact with the work. In some contexts, audiences are more familiar with conceptual and process-based art, which can lead to more in-depth discussions about the ideas behind the work. Meanwhile, in Indonesia, engagement often comes from a more immediate, instinctive response, which I also appreciate because it brings different layers of interpretation.

Another key difference is how institutions abroad approach exhibition-making. There is often a clearer structure in terms of production timelines, funding, and technical support. This allows for a more focused development process, whereas in Indonesia, things tend to be more fluid and sometimes unpredictable. While this can be challenging, it has also taught me to be flexible and to embrace uncertainty as part of the creative process.

Ultimately, both environments have shaped the way I think about my work. Working abroad has expanded my perspective on artistic discourse and given me access to new tools and collaborations. At the same time, my experience in Indonesia has grounded me in a more hands-on, adaptable approach to making art. I see my practice as existing between these different worlds—navigating structured systems while drawing from the spontaneity and resourcefulness of Indonesia’s small urban service industries.

CNTRFLD. Indonesia has a vibrant but complex art ecosystem. What are your thoughts on the current support for contemporary artists in Indonesia, and what changes would you like to see?

BP. Indonesia’s art ecosystem is vibrant but complex, with strong artist communities in cities like Jakarta, Bandung, and Yogyakarta. Each of these cities has its own unique characteristics: Jakarta, as the economic and cultural hub, offers more institutional and commercial opportunities but can feel more market driven. Bandung has a strong experimental and academic influence, with many artists emerging from ITB and engaging in research-based or interdisciplinary practices. Yogyakarta, with its deep-rooted artistic traditions and strong independent scene, has long been a center for artist-run initiatives and collectives.

Despite this diversity, contemporary artists across Indonesia still face challenges, particularly in terms of long-term support. Institutional and governmental funding remains limited, and many opportunities are project-based rather than geared toward sustaining artistic practices in the long run. While residencies and grants exist, access is often concentrated in certain networks, making it difficult for emerging or unconventional artists to benefit from them.

The strength of Indonesia’s art ecosystem lies in its resilience and collaborative spirit. However, more sustainable funding structures, broader public engagement, and improved technical support could further empower contemporary artists to push their work beyond current limitations.

CNTRFLD. Your collaboration with Kei Imazu at the Bangkok Art Biennale explores environmental issues in Indonesia. How did this partnership develop, and what themes were most important to convey?

BP. Our collaboration began during Artjog 2019 in Yogyakarta with a simple yet ambitious idea: combining my practice in kinetic electronics with Kei’s approach to painting. At first, we wanted to create a painting machine, but very quickly, the project evolved into something much more layered. Instead of just a mechanical system that generates images, we wanted the machine itself to embody the ecological and historical complexities of Indonesia—particularly the ongoing destruction of rainforests for palm oil plantations, a process rooted in colonial-era land exploitation under the VOC.

Through multiple stages of development, we refined and expanded this idea, creating four iterations of the painting machine. Each version introduced new complexities, testing the boundaries between automation, human intervention, and environmental agency. The most advanced version, currently exhibited at the Bangkok Art Biennale, represents the culmination of these explorations. Here, the work operates as a living system—one that doesn’t just depict environmental destruction but actively integrates the unpredictability of nature into its process.

This project is not just about technology or mechanics; it’s about confronting the realities of ecological crisis, historical exploitation, and the ways in which nature resists, adapts, and reclaims space—even within a machine designed to control it.

CNTRFLD. Many of your installations encourage audience interaction. How important is viewer participation in your work, and what responses have surprised you the most?

BP. Viewer participation in my work is often indirect rather than explicit. I don’t create installations that require direct interaction like pressing buttons or triggering obvious mechanisms. Instead, I incorporate elements like light sensors, oxygen sensors, and other responsive systems that react to the audience’s presence. The interaction is often unnoticed at first—the audience might not immediately realize that they are influencing the work.

What interests me is how these subtle changes create an ambient connection between the audience, the space, and the artwork. The presence of people alters the environment—shifting light levels, oxygen levels, or movement patterns—which, in turn, affects the behavior of the installation. This interplay generates an evolving atmosphere rather than a direct cause-and-effect response.

What surprises me the most is how different audiences perceive these changes. Some remain unaware, experiencing the installation as a purely sensory or atmospheric phenomenon. Others, however, start to analyze and question the shifts in light, sound, or movement, gradually recognizing their role in shaping the environment. This delayed realization is something I find intriguing because it allows for a more organic and introspective engagement with the work.

In the end, I see my installations as living systems that respond to human presence in subtle ways. They don’t demand participation but rather encourage awareness—of space, of change, and of the often-overlooked interactions between humans and their surroundings.

CNTRFLD. Your works often repurpose everyday objects and recycled materials. How do sustainability and circular economies play a role in your creative process?

BP. The selection of objects in my work is driven by their embedded histories, functions, and the systems they are part of. I’m drawn to materials and everyday objects that already exist within cycles of use, repair, and obsolescence. Repurposing these objects is not just a practical decision but a conceptual one—it reflects the way things circulate in both economic and material systems.

A circular economy isn’t just about sustainability in the environmental sense; it’s also about the way objects move through different phases of usefulness, modification, and transformation. Many of the materials I use—salvaged electronics, discarded mechanical components, or industrial remnants—come from small-scale urban industries where repair and repurposing are part of daily survival. These objects don’t just disappear when they’re no longer functional; they get fixed, adapted, or repurposed into something new. In my work, I tap into this process, extending the life cycle of objects and placing them in new contexts.

Conceptually, this practice also speaks to broader systems of consumption and production. We live in an era of rapid technological advancement and planned obsolescence, where things are designed to be replaced rather than repaired. By working with discarded or second-hand materials, I want to highlight alternative ways of thinking about value—where objects are not defined by their original purpose but by their potential for transformation.

Repurposing materials in this way creates a dialogue between past and present functions, between human intervention and mechanical systems. The objects I use already carry traces of previous use, and by incorporating them into my installations, I allow them to take on new meanings while still retaining their histories. In a way, this mirrors the idea of a circular economy—not just in the material sense, but as a conceptual approach to cycles of use, adaptation, and reimagination.

CNTRFLD. Can you share any details about projects you are currently working on or upcoming exhibitions?

BP. I will be presenting my work at Art Basel Statements with ROH this June. In August, I will be staging my first institutional solo exhibition in Europe at Kunsthalle Basel, followed by my first U.S. institutional solo show at the Swiss Institute in New York. I will then be preparing for an institutional show in Southeast Asia staged to open in January 2026.

CNTRFLD. What advice would you give to emerging artists who are interested in working with technology, sound, and installation art?

BP. For emerging artists interested in technology, sound, and installation art, the most important thing to understand is that everything is a continuous process—nothing happens instantly. Mastery, technical knowledge, and artistic direction develop over time through experimentation, persistence, and adaptation.

To survive and grow in both the contemporary art scene and society, you need to be adaptable and proactive. Maximizing every opportunity means continuously learning, seeking collaborations, and pushing your practice beyond its comfort zone. Take the time to engage with different creative communities—whether DIY workshops, small urban industries, or institutional spaces—because every experience and connection can shape your perspective and open up new possibilities.

It’s also crucial to invest your time in seeing good exhibitions. Experiencing diverse works firsthand allows you to absorb different artistic approaches, curatorial perspectives, and spatial considerations. This exposure helps refine your critical eye and deepens your understanding of how art functions in different contexts. Seeing how artists resolve ideas through materials, space, and interaction can offer valuable insights that you can apply to your own practice.

At the same time, patience and consistency are key. The art world moves fast, but meaningful artistic development takes time. Keep refining your work, adapting to new environments, and making the most of every opportunity that comes your way. Growth happens gradually—every exhibition you visit, every discussion you have, and every project you undertake adds to your larger journey as an artist.

About the artist.

Born 1985, Jakarta, Indonesia

Lives and works in Bandung, Indonesia

Working primarily through the medium of installation, Bagus Pandega often challenges pre-conditioned relationships between objects and its viewer. In his works, Pandega assembles various electronic systems as ‘modules’ and explores objects such as voice recorders, cassette and record players, lamps and electronic circuit boards— among others— to construct his works. Many of his artworks become activated through the interaction of movement, sound and light.

Pandega received his Bachelor of Arts, majoring in sculpture and his Master of Fine Arts from the Faculty of Art and Design, Bandung Institute of Technology, Bandung, Indonesia in 2008 and 2015 respectively. His special solo project Stomata is currently on view at Esplanade Concourse, Singapore (2024-25). Pandega’s selected solo exhibitions include 〇 at ROH, Jakarta, Indonesia (2024); A Pervasive Rhythm at Yamamoto Gendai, Tokyo, Japan (2018); Random Black at ROH Projects, Jakarta, Indonesia (2016); and A Monument That Tells Anything at Cemeti Art House, Yogyakarta, Indonesia (2015). Selected group exhibitions include Bangkok Art Biennale: Nurture Gaia at Bangkok Art and Culture Centre, Bangkok, Thailand (2024); Frieze Seoul, COEX Convention & Exhibition Center, Seoul, South Korea (2022); WAGIWAGI at documenta fifteen, Hübner areal, Kassel, Germany (2022); Declaring Distance: Bandung — Leiden at Selasar Sunaryo Art Space, Bandung, Indonesia (2022); AAAAHHH!!! Paris Internationale in Paris, France (2018), all featuring collaborative

work with Kei Imazu; Art Basel Hong Kong with ROH, Hong Kong (2023); The 10th Asia Pacific Triennial at QAGOMA, Brisbane, Australia (2021-22); Tiger Orchid presented at Art Basel OVR: Miami Beach (2020); Condo London at Project Native Informant, London, UK (2020); Ripples: Continuity in Indonesian Contemporary Art at Taipei Dangdai, Taipei, Taiwan (2019); Distorted Alteration at Project Fulfill, Taipei, Taiwan (2018); Amsterdam Light Festival, Amsterdam, the Netherlands (2017); and Clandestine Transgression at Art Basel Hong Kong: Discoveries with ROH Projects, Hong Kong (2015). After winning third place at Bandung Contemporary Art Awards #2, Pandega completed his first residency at Le Centre Intermondes, La Rochelle, France in 2012. A nominee of the 2016 Sovereign Art Prize, Pandega had also collaborated with Adi Purnomo and Irwan Ahmett in presenting Freedome, Indonesia Pavilion at the London Design Biennale: Utopia by Design in 2016.

CREDITS:

⁠Illustration of Bagus Pandega by Maria Chen. Original photograph by Davy Linggar.

ALL WORKS: ©Bagus Pandega