Nothing escapes Lianggono Susanto.
Everyday scenes, like the gentle sway of wind through the grass or the soft play of shadows ‘dancing’ on a tree trunk fascinate him. Embracing his fluid role as a visual artist, interior designer and photographer, his is a world where foraged twigs, a vintage frame bought at a flea market in Milan, and a three-tiered bamboo rantang he hand-carried on his recent flight from Hong Kong, makes up a ‘library’ of archives.
“What I absorb today could inform my work five years from now, just as what I’m working on today is the realisation of the past,” shared Lianggono. “As humans, our subconscious is shaped by our ancestors and family history. So when people say that babies are born as blank slates, I don’t think that’s true.”
His studio in Barito reflects a designer confident in his taste. The air is filled with the deep, rose and woody fragrance of Byredo’s Black Rose candle. Furniture, books and archives are thoughtfully arranged, their display shifting fluidly to suit the studio’s changing functions.
“What I absorb today could inform my work five years from now, just as what I’m working on today is the realisation of the past.”
At times, a long dining table with a floral centrepiece he arranged welcomes an intimate gathering among friends. Other times, it’s scattered with fabrics, material samples, and colour fan decks in preparation for a new project. Most recently, a long wooden table in the centre of the room held childhood mementoes, handwritten notes, and photographs—most notably, a soft pink-tinted print of his late mother, which was showcased during the recent exhibition, IRIS: An Ode to Seeing Beauty.
After the passing of his mother earlier this year, hosting an exhibition was the last thing on Lianggono’s mind. Even on a good day, welcoming up to 600 people to his studio over a two weekend period was definitely a “step out of the comfort zone” for the self-proclaimed introvert. But looking back, he saw it as a challenging yet necessary part of his grieving process. “Everything I do has always been driven by emotion. It was a very dark time, but I’m glad we pushed through. The exhibition brought a lot of clarity for me, it helped me understand that my practice, my philosophy, it all connects back to her.”
Exploring five manifestations of beauty—raw, imperfect, detail, complex and intense—the exhibition features mixed-media installations that take viewers through Lianggono’s artistic process and the direction he’s nurtured over the years, each one revealing traces of his mother’s influence.
Lianggono grew up in Surabaya, where his mother ran a humble Peranakan-style restaurant. Several times a week, he would accompany her on grocery runs to the market, riding on the back of the moped, hands balancing plastic bags on either side. “These trips, as simple as they are, trained my eyes to see the unpolished, the raw, the chaos, and appreciate things just as they are.”
“My mother had this gift of seeing value in the smallest of things,” he shared. “She never hid or tried to fix imperfections. Instead, she’d put care into the tiniest details, as simple as how she’d arrange our books or cutleries at home, lined with a sheet of fabric to avoid collecting dust. I take after her in that sense. Although I collect a lot of things, I don’t attach any possessive sentiment to them. It’s about giving them a better home, and that doesn’t necessarily have to be my own space.”
“These trips, as simple as they are, trained my eyes to see the unpolished, the raw, the chaos, and appreciate things just as they are.”
Through Iris, these memories take on varied forms, inviting visitors to explore these manifestations of beauty in different corners of the studio. The bright, vibrant and chaotic textures of the market are translated into a botanical piece, where a mustard yellow cloth, draped and hung like a hammock, cradles an arrangement of chilli, bamboo trunks and local cut flowers including red sugarcane and heliconia. In another, a deconstructed wooden table is assembled together, asymmetrical pieces jutting out, its shelves lined with vintage boxes that unveil hidden poems penned by Lianggono for his mother.
“Whether through photography, botanical installations or interior design, my work is deeply rooted in a sense of vulnerability and empathy,” he added. “That doesn’t mean the works or spaces feel lonely or sombre. Rather, it’s shown through subtle design choices, like the way light moves to evoke certain emotions, or the slight yet specific contrast between textures and shapes.”
With a degree in interior design, Lianggono started his career as an editor at Elle Decoration magazine, where he also got the opportunity to explore product styling. From there, he built a portfolio of freelance projects working across art direction, eventually opening Studio Lianggono in 2017.
Working primarily on residential projects, Lianggono’s approach to interior design is centred on creating homes that “feel alive.” He means that quite literally. “It’s important that spaces are flexible and truly reflect the inhabitants’ routines and habits, if not, you end up with unused and ‘dead’ rooms. I don’t typically take photos of completed projects right away. I prefer to wait a few weeks and observe how the occupants interact with the space, adapting it to suit their needs. A home only reaches its truest form when it’s really lived in.”
Playing on three keywords, intimate, intricate and senses, Lianggono’s work, while emotional, is always tempered by an acute sense of sensuality. “It’s sensual in the sense that it really engages all the five senses—in a disarming yet positive way,” he explained. In many of their projects, every detail, from furniture curation to smaller elements like lamps and blind rollers, undergoes thorough sampling in their studio. This eye for detail also rolls into brand collaborations, such as their recent collection with furniture brand Beranda, ‘Lekat’, which features a series of armchairs, coffee table and bed frames.
“We wanted the pieces to feel like a natural extension of the home, highlighting a sense of comfort and familiarity. Each one was designed with fundamental shapes and geometric forms to create that instant connection. We focused on angled seats, a relaxed form, and intricate upholstery like natural leather, to make it feel inviting and enduring at the same time.”
“It’s important that spaces are flexible and truly reflect the inhabitants’ routines and habits. A home only reaches its truest form when it’s really lived in.”
“I’ve always been fascinated by human activity,” Lianggono remarked. “Maybe it’s something I picked up from my mother, but whenever I travel, I always make a point to visit the local market. There’s something about seeing the local produce and spices that gives you an intimate sense of what people eat and cook at home. And in markets, you see people as they really are, which to me, says more about a city than any other place.”
On a regular day, Lianggono wakes up at 6 AM and starts the day with a swim. But the morning of our interview, he woke up an hour earlier than usual, stirred by a dream about his mother—the third time since her passing. It had been a long, stressful week at work, and he hadn’t had time to pick up fresh flowers for the studio, a simple ritual he likes to keep. In the dream, he was back in his childhood home when two guests arrived, looking for his mother. She came home shortly after, and he greeted her with a kiss at the door.
In the background, a blurry figure was ironing in the garage. His mother approached the figure and said in a gentle tone, “You should’ve opened the door for me. Don’t be lazy,” he recalled. “It felt like she was talking to me. I was aware that I was being lazy. I was tired and feeling down, I didn’t feel like going the extra mile to get flowers. But immediately, I got out of bed and rode a motorbike to the flower market. It felt like she was there with me, just like when I was a kid, riding on the back of her moped, surrounded by the market’s chaos.”
In each dream, his mother appears with gentle nudges and quiet reprimands—a soft reminder of her presence. Through his art, much like his dreams, her memory lives on.
