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Painting
HARVEST IN THE MORNING
GENJI | INDONESIA, UK
GENJI | INDONESIA, UK
Oil on canvas
2026
2026
For me, the KARTINA MIRA competition is a story of a borderless world.
I wake up very early, long before sunrise. I walk out into the fields and stand still in front of the mountain slowly dissolving into the morning mist, while the rice terraces — golden, ochre, heavy with ripeness — cascade down the slopes. This is not merely a beautiful landscape. It is a mute dialogue between human beings and the land, one that has lasted for centuries.
The curves of the rice terraces are not accidental. Each level is a living form of knowledge passed down from generation to generation — from grandfather to father, from father to son. It is a knowledge of how to guide water, how to preserve the soil, how to take from nature only what is necessary without excess. In the distance, behind the trees, a faint plume of smoke rises: someone is preparing breakfast in the stillness of dawn. It is within this everyday life that a quiet miracle resides — life goes on. A new day begins. Here, the harvest is not perceived as a conquest, but as the result of patience, balance, and respect for the stream of time.
My personal world begins in this rice field, where humble labour and quiet humility carry more weight than any loud declaration. I wish to share this feeling, because the gentle care for the land and honest work create a universal language understandable everywhere in the world.
The curves of the rice terraces are not accidental. Each level is a living form of knowledge passed down from generation to generation — from grandfather to father, from father to son. It is a knowledge of how to guide water, how to preserve the soil, how to take from nature only what is necessary without excess. In the distance, behind the trees, a faint plume of smoke rises: someone is preparing breakfast in the stillness of dawn. It is within this everyday life that a quiet miracle resides — life goes on. A new day begins. Here, the harvest is not perceived as a conquest, but as the result of patience, balance, and respect for the stream of time.
My personal world begins in this rice field, where humble labour and quiet humility carry more weight than any loud declaration. I wish to share this feeling, because the gentle care for the land and honest work create a universal language understandable everywhere in the world.
I wake up very early, long before sunrise. I walk out into the fields and stand still in front of the mountain slowly dissolving into the morning mist, while the rice terraces — golden, ochre, heavy with ripeness — cascade down the slopes.
This is not merely a beautiful landscape. It is a mute dialogue between human beings and the land, one that has lasted for centuries.
The curves of the rice terraces are not accidental. Each level is a living form of knowledge passed down from generation to generation — from grandfather to father, from father to son. It is a knowledge of how to guide water, how to preserve the soil, how to take from nature only what is necessary without excess. In the distance, behind the trees, a faint plume of smoke rises: someone is preparing breakfast in the stillness of dawn. It is within this everyday life that a quiet miracle resides — life goes on. A new day begins. Here, the harvest is not perceived as a conquest, but as the result of patience, balance, and respect for the stream of time.
For me, the KARTINA MIRA competition is a story of a borderless world. My personal world begins in this rice field, where humble labour and quiet humility carry more weight than any loud declaration. I wish to share this feeling, because the gentle care for the land and honest work create a universal language understandable everywhere in the world.
The curves of the rice terraces are not accidental. Each level is a living form of knowledge passed down from generation to generation — from grandfather to father, from father to son. It is a knowledge of how to guide water, how to preserve the soil, how to take from nature only what is necessary without excess. In the distance, behind the trees, a faint plume of smoke rises: someone is preparing breakfast in the stillness of dawn. It is within this everyday life that a quiet miracle resides — life goes on. A new day begins. Here, the harvest is not perceived as a conquest, but as the result of patience, balance, and respect for the stream of time.
For me, the KARTINA MIRA competition is a story of a borderless world. My personal world begins in this rice field, where humble labour and quiet humility carry more weight than any loud declaration. I wish to share this feeling, because the gentle care for the land and honest work create a universal language understandable everywhere in the world.