Fragments of Hope

For Fragments of Hope, we turn our attention to the temples scattered around our neighborhood, as well as the daily rituals held there. Glodok, as the oldest Chinatown in Indonesia, established by the Dutch after 1740, has long held temples as vital pillars of the community, with some being built as early as 1650. These sacred spaces are not just sites of devotion, but also act as spaces for the community.
They bring people together and anchor generations through shared beliefs, traditions, and acts of care; a vessel for the neighbors’ hopes and wishes.

Praying, something personal that we hold close to our hearts, is also a communal act. In temples we visited, we observed people arriving one by one, each with their own reasons. Some in search of guidance, others giving thanks, and many are simply seeking a place of refuge for a moment of peace. They light candles or joss sticks, then silently offer their prayers to the Gods. Though each person carries different intentions, they stand side by side with others doing the same; alone, but together in their solemnity.

The Artwork

The Material: Temple Candle

Among the many objects found in these temples, candles intrigued us the most. Offered as a donation to the temple, people would usually write down their names or wishes on the body of the candle, and the size is said to reflect one’s devotion; the bigger the candle, the greater the devotion. Once lit, they are left to burn as a symbol of one’s prayer, standing silently side by side with countless other candles.

During busy seasons such
as Chinese New Year or deity’s birthday ceremony (Sejit), the temples’ limited space and the sheer number of offerings mean many of these burning candles are left unfinished and discarded. Some are recycled into new ones, while others end up in landfills.

To create this installation, we collected discarded candles from three temples around Glodok; namely Jin De Yuan (1650), Toa Se Bio (1751), and Li Tie Guai (1812).

To us, these candles hold fragments of different hopes and wishes from and for the neighborhood. We then melted, mixed, and poured them into silicone molds forming eight everyday objects commonly used in ritual practice. In doing so, we hope to give the candles a second life as an art piece, whilst preserving the prayers once stored in them.

The Material: Steel

These wax objects are then placed atop tubular black steel lighting structures that resemble candles. The light from within illuminates the objects above, much like how a real candle’s flame carries a prayer into the open. These steel “candles,” unlike their wax counterparts, will not burn out. Their enduring light becomes a symbol of our everlasting hope for the neighbourhood, one that continues to shine even as individual prayers fade.

The Objects

Fragments of Hope follows the Later Heaven Bagua, a Taoist map connecting elements, directions, and natural forces. Adjusted to the site’s orientation, each object aligns with its symbolic direction, honoring the Bagua as both compass and guide for harmony.

Unlike the Earlier Heaven Bagua, which reflects an ideal and unchanging cosmic order, the Later Heaven Bagua speaks to the lived world; shaped by seasons and transformation, mirroring the continual cycles of memory, ritual, and renewal.

First cast in silicone molds and then poured with recycled candle wax, each object was chosen to correspond with its assigned Bagua position and symbolic meaning.

The Installation

When we arrived at Jia CURATED 2025 at the Bali Festival Park to set up our artwork, we found both challenges and possibilities in merging it with the site. Our approach was to adjust and balance without intruding; using textures, lighting, and color to let the piece speak alongside the park’s existing narrative. Created with our own neighborhood in mind, it found new meaning here.

Surrounded by so many universal languages, we became more conscious of choosing what already existed, using materials drawn from the site itself that could enrich the story. From setting up the “altar” with gravel stones, to noticing how the rust of our steel structures echoed the park’s own, and finally arranging the lighting to accentuate the work’s spirit, each decision was about deepening the artwork’s connection to this place.

At the end of the day, it always goes back to our home in Glodok, to what we can find within, not without. And with the freedom this space has given us, we’ve been able to breathe and observe even deeper, letting our roots and this site’s soul grow intertwined.

Fringe