I met Harris Purnomo in Miami last December during the Basel/Miami fairs. 

The shear volume of art that decorated the town was overwhelming.  It was like the patchwork of brightly colored houses on the outskirts of Havana last century when Cubans could afford paint.  There were lots of sparkly things, too, like one might find on Rodeo Drive.  Yet much of the work on display did little to distinguish itself from banal decoration.  But as I walked through Art Asia exhibits, Haris Prumono’s “bayonet babies” arrested me.

I was totally unprepared for what I saw.  I had neither the benefit nor curse of context[1].   A series of life size babies floating like cocoons in a spider web if viewed from afar; more like sublime spirits viewed at closer range.  Hung from the ceiling by almost invisible wire, each plump baby was cast in pure white resin.  Leaving only their heads exposed, all were wrapped in a white cloth (part of the resin cast) that bound and covered their bodies, wrapping to an auger below their feet.  Each head was shaved; each face was serene, totally unconcerned and knowing, like a child monk.  It was unclear and unimportant whether these were boys or girls.  The serene beauty mesmerized me.