Tracing Sonic Memory Across Time and Place
My name is Hijruddin Marlin, also known as Didin Marlin. I was born and raised in Kassi Tinambung village, Pangkep Regency, South Sulawesi. Growing up, I was deeply connected to nature. The sounds of water, forests, and everyday rhythms were not separate from life, but part of how I learned to understand the world.
I come from a Bugis background, and in South Sulawesi, I grew up surrounded by cultural practices closely tied to the environment. I remember how Bugis communities carry out rituals before and after harvest as a form of gratitude toward nature. In those moments, there are always songs, sounds, and rhythms present, not as entertainment, but as part of living. These sonic memories stayed with me, even before I fully understood their meaning.
When I moved to the city, I encountered a very different sonic environment. It was denser, faster, and more fragmented. It was also there that I began to realize that South Sulawesi is shaped by multiple traditions. I became aware of four major ethnic groups—Makassar, Bugis, Mandar, and Toraja—each with distinct sonic identities and rhythmic patterns, particularly through their traditional percussion instruments.
I began learning guitar and exploring contemporary music, trying to find my own voice. But at some point, something started to return. I began to feel these sonic memories again, almost like signals, bringing me back to where I come from, not physically, but through listening and sensation.
Since around 2020, I have consciously returned to studying the sonic and rhythmic traditions of South Sulawesi, with a particular focus on Bugis as my cultural background. I try to understand how breath, gesture, and musical attitude function within these traditions, and then bring those elements into my own way of making work. For me, this is not about borrowing sound, but about understanding a way of thinking and sensing.
My concern comes from seeing how traditional elements are often used only as decoration or symbolic references in artistic work, without deeper understanding. I feel the need to find ways for tradition to function not as an ornament, but as a foundation for creating something new.
In my current practice, I work with sonic memory. I try to reactivate what I have heard, process it, and place it in different contexts. I see the sonic richness of South Sulawesi as something that is still alive and capable of evolving.
Magismaja becomes the initial project and gateway in my artistic practice, developed from a creative approach rooted in the rhythmic knowledge of Makassar, Bugis, Mandar, and Toraja traditions. Through this project, I begin to build a working method that positions tradition as a foundation, while opening possibilities for new works to emerge from this sonic knowledge.
