A line — after a dot, this is the first lesson that students need to pass in art education classes in my home country (Indonesia) before continuing to the next step. It is taught as a foundation for form, proportion, and skill. But a line is also a boundary: between right and wrong, technique and expression, pass and fail. In this context, it becomes a tool of control. In this exhibition, drawing a line in the sand is a statement, a resistance, and an invitation.
My transition from Indonesian to UK art education revealed a stark contrast. In Indonesia, students follow a rigid path: mastering technique before being granted ‘creative freedom,’ which often remains limited by grades. I remember drawing hundreds of lines with a ruler when I lost confidence, fearing imperfection — as if a shaky line meant failure.
In UCL, the emphasis shifted. Education became inquiry-led, contextual, and reflective. Technical skill still matters, but it’s not the end goal. Structure adapts to the student — not the other way around. Still, I sometimes find myself reaching for a ruler when the fear of imperfection returns.
Through this work, I explore ‘line’ both formally and symbolically. A performance video documents the repetitive act of drawing lines on sand — not for mastery, but as meditation. The sand itself forms the centerpiece of my work in this gallery. Visitors are invited to draw their own lines, knowing they will vanish — erased by footsteps, time, other lines, or wind. This becomes a metaphor for a negotiable system: flexible, impermanent, and open to change.
In 2021, UNESCO declared: ‘Creative freedom must be embedded in all stages of learning, not granted only to the “mature” artist.’ That line stayed with me. This exhibition challenges the idea that freedom must be earned. A line is not a gate to pass through. It is something we can draw ourselves — whenever we are ready.
And like a line in the sand:
it can disappear,
but it can always be drawn again.
By anyone.
Including you.
In UCL, the emphasis shifted. Education became inquiry-led, contextual, and reflective. Technical skill still matters, but it’s not the end goal. Structure adapts to the student — not the other way around. Still, I sometimes find myself reaching for a ruler when the fear of imperfection returns.
Through this work, I explore ‘line’ both formally and symbolically. A performance video documents the repetitive act of drawing lines on sand — not for mastery, but as meditation. The sand itself forms the centerpiece of my work in this gallery. Visitors are invited to draw their own lines, knowing they will vanish — erased by footsteps, time, other lines, or wind. This becomes a metaphor for a negotiable system: flexible, impermanent, and open to change.
In 2021, UNESCO declared: ‘Creative freedom must be embedded in all stages of learning, not granted only to the “mature” artist.’ That line stayed with me. This exhibition challenges the idea that freedom must be earned. A line is not a gate to pass through. It is something we can draw ourselves — whenever we are ready.
And like a line in the sand:
it can disappear,
but it can always be drawn again.
By anyone.
Including you.