For Keeps-sake

‍From a personal project in college to a large-scale archive, what was the moment you realised the collection could be more?

Jaka: I was drawn to the kitschy, unusual designs, but also their scarcity – realising that so much of Indonesia's design history was disappearing. So in 2019 I began uploading my finds to Instagram.

Said: The turning point came when Jaka and I met in 2020. We shared a vision to make the archive more accessible and impactful, and to spotlight a part of Indonesia's visual culture that rarely appears in formal design histories. We then teamed up with Kamengski, a multidisciplinary brand and design studio, which pushed us to expand the team.

Jaka: We chose the name Nusantara, another word for Indonesia, because we never wanted the archive confined to one region. In Indonesia, there is less awareness of the importance of archiving. That is why I knew I had to do this – to show that despite not having art schools or institutions at the time, the country still had a really rich and lavish design culture.

Why the 1950s to 2000s? What's significant about these design eras?

Claudia: It was a time before digital design took over, so every piece carried a human touch, from hand-lettered logos to quirky layout choices. Those decades were marked by a blend of manual illustration, bold typography, and bright, sometimes clashing colours, influenced by local visual traditions as well as imported printing techniques.

What do these labels reveal about Indonesian culture and creativity?

Said: Quite a lot actually. You can also see how globalisation seeped in, from Japanese anime, to Western films and comics on 1990s stickers, to older labels borrowing from Art Nouveau. But there are also distinctly regional touches, like religious motifs alongside playful cartoon characters, or slogans that capture local humour.

Claudia: We find it fascinating how literal the brand names were. A kerupuk¹ brand might just be Kerupuk Jaya (Glorious Crackers), or a syrup label Cap Buah Segar (Fresh Fruit Brand). Some were named after everyday objects, like Kretek Djamboe (Guava Cigarettes). There was no polished branding; the goal was quick recognition and to stand out amongst busy pasar (market) stalls.

How do you find new pieces now – are you hunting at markets, or is it mostly submissions?

Jaka: It's a mix. I still love the thrill of flea markets and meeting collectors – you never know what might surface. Other times, they come through other people's collections. Our second book was based entirely on a friend's collection of over 300 kerupuk labels he gathered while on a college study tour.

Hendri: What's surprising is the sheer number of small, independent printers experimenting with design outside Jakarta. In our fourth book, we documented a trip to rural Malang, East Java, where we met one of Indonesia's biggest sticker producers, which turned out to be a family-run business led by a father and son.

Are you sitting on a goldmine of sticker albums at home too?

Jaka: Pretty much! Our first collection was literally crammed into a few bulky folders, but it's since grown into proper archival boxes.

Said: Some pieces are incredibly rare – like the stickers we were only given after persistent negotiation with a collector, who finally agreed to sell. Some labels are also incredibly fragile and require careful restoration. In a way, it feels like we're sitting on living history.

Any favourites in there?

Jaka: It's honestly tough to pick, but we love how Indonesian label design blends local and global influences. Traditional ornaments – patterns you'd find in sculptures, batik or woven textiles – sit alongside design theory and international styles like Art Deco. This mix gives the designs such a unique vibe: deeply rooted in Indonesia, yet not untouched by global influence. These three textile labels are perfect examples from our collection.

You've expanded beyond the archive with books, exhibitions and even apparel. Tell us about all this growth…

Jaka: The response has been incredible. Taking the labels to print was our way of making the archive tangible; the designs get a second life. And our books don't just share images; they include essays, interviews, and stories that let people dive deeper into the history. The t-shirts, jackets, and pants all follow the same idea, but with a playful twist – letting people carry the designs out into the world. It's a fun way to bring the archive off the screen and into new hands and audiences.

Hendri: People love recognising something so familiar presented as design history, and it often changes how they see it. Right now, we're working on turning the archive into a proper research resource – an online database where people can search by category, region, or object type. The goal is to make it easier for designers, students, and researchers to explore this part of Indonesian visual history.

Jaka: Plus, we have a couple of new books in the works, but that's a surprise for now!

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¹ Kerupuk – also called keropok, krupuk or kropek – is a Southeast Asian deep-fried cracker, popular in Malaysia and Indonesia. Made from starch and fish or prawn, it’s cooked, dried, and fried until crisp and delicious. Varieties include Keropok Lekor (fish-and-sago sausage), Keropok Keping (thin fried slices), and common prawn or fish crackers.

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grafisnusantara.com

¹ Kerupuk – also called keropok, krupuk or kropek – is a Southeast Asian deep-fried cracker, popular in Malaysia and Indonesia. Made from starch and fish or prawn, it's cooked, dried, and fried until crisp and delicious. Varieties include Keropok Lekor (fish-and-sago sausage), Keropok Keping (thin fried slices), and common prawn or fish crackers.

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