Waluyo Manifesto
Vol. 30
JULY MMXXV
BONUS VIDEO INSIDEI
Consumer Guide To Collapse
Decentralization
Student Debr
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Internet Censorship
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Waluyo Manifesto
Waluyo Manifesto was born because the others didn't make it. We are gang of workers who fear nothing, but still pick up when our moms call. We believe in art & pop culture, just not the men who run it. Nobody here is called Waluyo, and here's our manifesto.
in love or war, wear a mašk
Table of Contents
Consumer Guide to Collapse 2 You're here, in this page.. 5 Editor's Note 6 Mailbox of Misunderstanding 8 Wall Text & Other Lies 12 18 Five Most Expensive Artwork Right Now Cineplagues. 20 Tonjo Terkini: Xiamen Haba 24 Dasbboard Confessional 26
Editor-in-Chief Sean Akon
Account Executive Oguchi Onyewu
Legal & Security Inigo Montoya
Best Defender of All-Time Paolo Maldini
Inbox Reader Lee Kuproy
Spiritual Assistant Wono Kejawen Haruomi Hosono 王菲
Writer Boi Sanyit Sya'men Pahlevi Haha Pahlevi Nunik Yes
Editorial Office Jl. Tulang Wangi II / 44 Ngampilan, Yogyakarta +62851-6309-2025
Editor's Note
Instead of writing an editorial, here are the things that make me laugh or piss me off, sometimes both at once. The kind of things that keep me awake and confused about this one dance song we call life: Fast, loud, but already fading by the time I find my rhythm.
Maybe it's better to tell my current locations to fellow readers: I am in Sane.
It's somewhere around Warmth, right before Loneliness, just across the new karaoke bar called Denial, where everyone sings like they still believe.
At least I have a sane opinion. And I trust my guts. That's what I'm proud of, unlike the majority who voted for a band of clowns to run this country.
We elected a hallucination. These people's thoughts buffer in real time. There's this guy, a walking meme in the form of a man, with meth-head eyes and the brain of a frozen Internet Explorer tab. This porn addict is not the Satrio Piningit, he's the prince of AI.
Then there's the other guy. The one who was trying to deny this nation's most villainous crime, brushing it off as 'a rumour'. So wrong, even Evil itself feels humbled by this piece of shit.
With that kind of act, they deserve a long and tender facial massage from the lovely butt of Rikishi. Let them feel the weight of history.
Speaking of facial massage, I remember mine clearly. The year was 1993. I was watching bootlegged VHS of Apocalypse Now in a hotel room in Saigon. I forgot the rest'cause my sanity has gone.
It's evaporated somewhere in the napalm.
This nation is messed up. So is the rest of the world. Genocides, wars, refugees seeking for clean water and a loaf of bread while the rich argue about Met Gala outfits, TikTok trends, and which overpriced art to hang in their fourth guest bathroom.
The world is burning and we're building TV shows & art fairs on the ashes. Some of us get to live soft lives in hard times. Don't waste it. Sleep more. Or don't sleep at all. Rip out this page and shove it in someone's mouth. Take this art book (yes, an art book. You read that right!) and bury it in a forest. Go outside, touch real grass. Tell the grass what you're afraid of.
Then come back and scream into the mic like it's your las day alive. This is not a show.
Or is it?
For the rest who still want to read, thanks.
Keep going. Keep breaking.
Keep building. Keep questioning.
Especially the stupid things, they're usually the real ones!
Mailbox of Misunderstanding
Send your nudes thoughts, questions or rage about anything, especially if it involves our publication and questionable practices to: [email protected].
We welcome questions that your beloved chatbot refused to answer. If you're lucky enough, your questions might be answered on the next edition of Waluyo Manifesto!
"Dear Waluyo Manifesto, when are my ads being shown in your printed editions? I already paid through one of your writer's GoPay account!" - vampirelo***
Dear vampirelove666, your OnlyFans ads are never going to be shown in any of our publications.
Not because we're not allowed, and not because we don't love porn. We just don't love your content.
Good luck on your career tho!
"I still don't get why my NFT art titled In the Realm of.. (loop ver.) was listed as Top 10 Worst NFT Art of the Week on Tonjo Terkini. Are you just jealous of how much ETH I've made? Hahaha" - shackrabbit
Dear random NFT artist, looks like your title isn't finished, just like your work. No, we're not jealous. We don't do that here. (Also, yes. We're poor as f)
But we have integrity, which you might have less of.
Good luck finishing your art!
"Which shirt should I wear for an upcoming date with this lovely goth girl? I want to impress her and not look like a red flag. I have a Deftones long sleeve, first Morfem tee, DGTMB tee, (too artsy? I might look like a virgin tho) Suspiria bootleg tee or Neo-Santet printed shirt? - Pandu from Babarsari
Hi, Pandu. Maybe just wear a Ferrari t-shirt. The color will match your flag. Stupid question deserves stupid answer.
But okay, serious mode: If you really want to impress her, go with Bir Bintang's sleeveless tee.
Good luck on the date, and please let us know how it goes!
1816FXP032 ATMCA 04:57:0 19/05/25 ZX08 ER h XP0328 U XUNG GO TARIK TUNAL ゴジラのすベリ台 MENCETAK You need access Ask for access, or switch to an account with access Learn more Request access
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Halo, Bang. Di lagu "Nikah Sama Kamu - Siti Badriah feat. RPH Di sana, ada bagian intro yang tidak Abang tuliskan.
Sepertímya bahasa Jawa, apakah Abang bisa memperbaikinya? Soalnya saya tidak bisa berbahasa Jawa.
Yogyakarta is famously known as and always be the city of the arts & culture.
It's where our below-par regional minimum wage gets wiped off by the painters & graffiti writers.
Where a filmmaker can win an international award and still rent a room near a chicken farm-and might not be able to pay for the next year's bill. Where we attend three exhibitions in a day but still don't know where the nearest public library is.
Where experimental music shows had to be organized in a mis-fit venues because we're short on public spaces, but never short on spirit.
It's where we keep creating because no one remembered to tell us to stop.
Despite the lack of infrastructure, public funding, and cultural policy, this city keeps producing. Keeps mutating. Keeps screaming softly through shadow puppets, paint buckets or noise pedals.
Art finds its way between angkringan stalls, Madura minimarkets and Whatsapp group chats that plan a group show at 2 AM. This city still has teeth and dreams. And too many events happening at the same time. We try to show up and take notes. Here are a few things we saw lately:
Standing Democracy
22 June 2025 - Cafe Cempluk parking lot A performance art by Lan Tawa Wenda from Art-lerta! Art-lerta! Collective
It starts with a topless man with long hair,
Candles arranged in a circle around him. He looks like a grindcore bassist turned into a cult recruiter. He hands the audience numbered paint brushes. Each one engraved with the word "People", followed by a number. Then he says, "Paint me. Black."
Like good citizens, the crowd does what they're told. They cover him in thick, wet, symbolic darkness. Someone giggles when they paint over the artist's nipple. But he doesn't flinch. He becomes a statue that no one sculpted.
Now he's fully all black.
He stands still silently for-------we don't know long.
(It wasn't in the poster. Of course not.)
So I took notes.
Here's what happened during the performance:
1 baby cried.
1 photographer tripped over a parking cone.
2 people answered phone calls. One talked about insurance.
2 bakso and sate stalls showed up and split the crowd.
5 accidental TikToks or Reels played out loud.
8 yawns (that's so few. I was surprised.)
10 phones filmed the performances from similar angles.
12 people may have silently thought, "Did I come for the
art? Or just because we're Friends?"
13 stayed until the end. Legends.
16 cigarettes were smoke (mine).
17 vehicles couldn't park.
29 total attendees.
30 Second to Mars is still a shit band.
65 minutes passed. (No mercy.)
Then, he finally moved.
He blew out the candles and stare at us like we owed him
money. Then looked up and screamed,
"DEMOCRACYYYYYYYYYYYY!"
The crowd applauded, he walked straight into the cafe. Ordered a kopi susu, probably. The parking lot now smells like wax, acrylic and regret.
Was it art? Was it anything? Was it a group therapy session sponsored by Faber-Castell? I don't know.
But it felt more honest than the last election.
It lost one star because he almost set a tote bag on fire and nobody helped. Now I realized, maybe that was part of the performance.
We Are the Crisis
28 June 2025 - Pipi Tembem Institute for Art & Society Agroup exhibition
The show looked great. Solid works. Good curation.
Free-flow cocktails. It's called We Are the Crisis, and for real, the title might be telling the truth. Just not in the way the artists intended.
Curated by Ranu Justice, a young curator riding the hype after curating Aris Katerpila's long awaited comeback show after 15 years. What people might forget: Ranu is his nephew.
Back to Crisis.
This exhibition was initiated by Bram, the least commercially celebrated artist in the lineup. It was his idea to gather all these more famous names. He says he wants to "build dialogue between disciplines.." but everyone knows what that really means: collectors of the cooler kids might take home his painting too. Is that wrong? No, that's just an... art hustle.
Still, Bram stood proud, explaining his three-panel painting of a broken chair in space to a guy in Balenciaga loafer. I kind of admire it, this guy paints well. But he talks better, and posts even better. He's the kind of artist with more X (Twitter) drafts than finished canvases. But you can't deny: he made this show happen.
Oh, right, the show?
A decent mix of what's trending: neon brushwork, soft-apocalypse themes, Southeast Asian futurism, all of them managed to incorporate the words "decolonization" and "collective memory" into their description text.
Everyone's trying to look like they read theory while also hoping their pieces will sell. I can feel the tension between aesthetic rebellion, political performance, and price tags. Everyone's questioning capitalism amidst global chaos, but no one wants to die broke.
And Bram, bless him, is floating in the middle of the crowd like he's the main course of the show.
In the end, he sold one piece. Or maybe none.
But that wasn't the point, was it?
The point was: he made something bigger than himself.
Is this opportunism? Probably. But it's also an effort.
He didn't commit any artistic crime. He just tried. And I think that's beautiful!
Points for ambition, self-positioning, and friendship Could've been better if they didn't try so hard to be relatable and politically correct.
Five Most Expensive Artwork Right Now According to Capitalism
Salvator Mundi by Leonardo da Vinci Price: $450.3 million Sold in 2017 at Christie's
A long-lost Jesus holding a crystal ball, now reportedly in a Dubai yacht. (Because why not?)
Shot Sage Blue Marilyn
by Andy Warhol Price: $195 million Sold in 2022
Marilyn, silkscreened and canonized. Still cheaper than a failed NFT drop hyped by 3 influencers and one YouTuber
Les Femmes d'Alger (Version 'O') by Pablo Picasso Price: $179.4 million Sold in 2015
A cubist ode to Algerian women, now pixelated in a PDF catalog somewhere.
Nu Couché by Amedeo Modigliani Price: $170.4 million Sold in 2015
A relaxed nude pose with her long neck and longer transaction record.
Her Smile
Price: Priceless. No bid. No receipt. Just a presence that didn't need permission.
Not at Sotheby's. But once, and in that tiny circle on WhatsApp. A small, distant portal to somewhere warm.
CINEPLAGUE Some people watch films to relax. We watch them to remember we still have a nervous system. Some are amazing, some are garbage. Some, garbagely amazing & amazingly garbage.
All of them gave us something we didn't ask for. Now, sit.
Dream Work(2001)
Directed by: Peter-what-the-fk-is-happening Tscherkassky 11 mins | B/W | 2001 |Austria
Disturbing, but fascinating. A film for people who treat their migraines like a spiritual awakenings. Or for anyone who doesn't flinch at flash warnings. The movie itself is the warning.
Dream Work is pure celluloid chaos: found footage, scratched negatives, strobing edits that feel like being swallowed into David Lynch's nightmare reels. No dialogue. No plot. Just pure vibes, and not a good one, of course.
This is a film to watch in a dark room, alone. Or with someone who doesn't ask, "WhAt dOes tHiS mEaN?" but rather, "Why do I feel Iike I've seen this in a dream I wasn't supposed to have?"
Honestly it's perfect visualizer for post-punk/goth or harsh noise musicians. It probably looks exactly what they see when they close their eyes.
Killing the Eunuch Khan (Koshtan-e khajeh)
110 mins | Color | 2021 | Iran
Directed by: Abed Abest
This film is so beautiful it made my eyes cry glitter. But somewhere between shot 7 and shot 69, I realized: "Where's the plot?"
Killing of the Eunuch Khan is seductively stylish. That's both a compliment and a complaint. It gives you. everything, except the glue that holds it together. The visual? Stunning. The music? Thrilling. The effects? Fascinating. The production design? Sinting. Even the title sequence makes you want to stay. I could keep listing my admiration without once mentioning its story. Sorry, not story.
Don't get me wrong, this is still a good watch. Especially on the big screen. During the film, a random ghost sat beside me, whispered:
"I died in 2006 after watching The Fall. This is worse. At least, The Fall had a kid I could root for." said the ghost, holding popcorn in her transparent hand.
I left the theater like receiving a fancy velvet gift box filled with... ashes.
Sorry, Abed Abest (or Aworst?) You're clearly not the best. 2 out of 5 stars. Not because it's bad. But because it could've been a banger music video. Or brilliant looped video art in gallery.
But unfortunately, it's a feature film.
The Celebration (Festen) 105 mins | Color | 1998 | Denmark, Sweden Directed by: Thomas Vinterberg
It's a family dinner. The finest dish served is their own secrets.
Still the best thing that I've ever watched, up there with Survive Style 5+
SEATD 广 COOL IAN 54
TONJOTERKIN XIAMEN HAHA
Back in 2022, two of our beloved writers were commissioned by the Tonjo Foundation to document a very special kind of art event.
The location? An abandoned city wastewater treatment tplant in the middle of Yogyakarta.
The purpose? Unclear.
The vibe? DlY utopia with a hint of tetanus.
Hundreds of young artists and collectives were invited
to 'activate' the site as they liked, as wild as it can be. Some made performances. Some just wandered. Some did absolutely nothing, and that was the point.
Sya'men and Haha were sent to cover it. What came back was a video.
A love letter to art, community, and confusion.
(1)00:00:08,800-->00:00:11,880 Yeah, that's the 10 worst NFT artworks this month.
(2)00:00:12,120-->00:00:15,120 Now let's move to the more exciting
ion! 00:00:28, ast of 1 ement was
0:00:20,160 be 80s era, a r
(7) 00:00:35,560 and Dadaism school of
:38,960-->00:00: e last quarter of 1986,
(9)00:00:41,880-->00:00:45,360 they created an event that marked the Xiamen Dada movement
(10)00:00:45,360-->00:00:48,360 in the significant records of Chinese contemporary art bistory.
Dashboard Confessional
Cover
Thresholded images of a spoon + Lydia Graham. Sorry, Lydia.
Inspirations Aki Kaurismäki All of our friends Cibo Matto Crap Hound Eiko Ishioka Gregg Araki Greg Girard Hunter S. Thompson Meiko Kaji Molly Nilsson On The Rag Saigo No Shudan Seijun Suzuki Seth Bogart Shūji Terayama Sion Sono Spike Jonze Tom Vague Vegyn Yogyakarta
Stolen images from the internet Asian Art Archive Crap Hound IndoArtnow Internet Archive Meiko Kaji films' lobby cards My harddisk files collection Public Domain Review Seijun Suzuki's Branded to Kill
Published by Waluyo Entertainment [email protected]
Fonts in use Acumin Variable Anybody Condensed Brush Script MT Cuasigothic Decohead Helvetica Neue Junicode Newsreader Ronzino Rosette
In the Next Waluyo Manifesto, we'll cover... Pizzagate, an interview with Gus Javar, Titanic III, the most underrated art book fair, and many more things we'll regret later.
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