Amanda Maringka ’13 discovered her calling in helping others find theirs. As founder of Indonesian company terARTai, she co-creates artwork with people who have special needs and turns it into sellable products. They are able to earn money and take away something perhaps even more important: a sense of purpose.
The artists Maringka works with in her home country are adults. But they live with conditions, such as autism and cerebral palsy, that make it difficult to become independent and find meaningful work.
“They want more in life,” she says of her collaborators, who attend Kyriakon School and Therapy Center in Jakarta. “They want to contribute, but they don't know how. The school doesn’t know how. Even their parents don’t know how. They are often underestimated.”
Search for Clarity
Maringka, 28, can relate to those feelings of aimlessness and uncertainty. When she first walked into Kyriakon School, in early 2019, she was on a sabbatical from global marketing and consulting firm Innate Motion. Five years into the job, she had hit pause to plot her next career move.
A school, where she expected to volunteer with children, was the last place she expected to find more clarity.
“I was always awkward with kids,” Maringka admits. “So I was a bit nervous, especially knowing they had special needs.”
To her surprise, several students who joined Maringka for simple art projects in those early days were at least 20 years old. Some had graduated from Kyriakon School long ago.
“Outside of the school, there's nowhere [for them] to go,” she says. “Even the parents have no idea where to send them. So, they basically just send them to the school just so they have something to do.”
As they did art together, Maringka says, the students started opening up to her. Helped along by iPads and communication boards, they told their stories. And for Maringka, the wheels started turning.
This is where Maringka’s professional experience came into play. In her marketing role for Innate Motion, she had learned not only to observe the obvious and tangible at client companies, but also to use what she calls an “empathy lens.”
“When you see the house, for example, don't just look at the house,” she says. “Also look at the way people behave toward each other. What does that tell you?
“Being trained that way allowed me to identify the problem that the students were facing,” she adds.
Seeing how they viewed their conditions as roadblocks to living a more fulfilling life, she was inspired to launch a company that creates a possible path forward. The name terARTai comes from the Indonesian term for water lily, a flower that grows in the mud, where sunlight is scarce.
Defining Friendship
The company’s first project was a scarf collection called Sahabat, the Indonesian word for “friendship.” Maringka identifies a central theme each time she paints with Kyriakon School students, and then they all brainstorm around that idea. This time she asked: “How do you see friendship in your lives?”
That student, Gerry Mahadi, later explained he felt friendship was like a river because it should be about giving and ever-flowing. Maringka ran with the inspiration, creating basic designs out of Mahadi’s idea and those of a few other students.
“Imagine a coloring book,” Maringka explains. “I make outlines — like an outline of a river. Then I distribute the outlines and ask students to develop them from there.”
Students use paint to make the designs their own, which presents a significant challenge for some. Mahadi, for example, has cerebral palsy and can barely move his arms. He needs help from at least one person, sometimes two, to execute brush strokes. But the resulting artwork, Maringka says, is indisputably his. Using his communication board, he tells his helpers how details of the painting should look -- from the exact shade of blue he wants for the river water to the precise positions of the flowers.
“Gerry was very critical,” she says with a smile. “I felt like he was the art director.”
Of the paintings produced from those Sahabat sessions, Maringka selected four and produced 50 scarves, which went on sale in September 2019. Mahadi’s design, featuring a serene blue river filled with orange fish and two bright green hills dotted with deep red flowers, was the first to sell out.
Commerce and Redemption
Initially, terARTai had a fairly basic business model. Maringka sold the scarves in two sizes, priced from $20 to $25, through Instagram and at occasional pop-ups and bazaars. The artists received 20% of the proceeds.
“Every six months I create a report for each of the artists, and then I present the report to the school and to their parents,” she explains. “Then I give the students their money as well.”
In December 2019, terARTai released its second collection, Terang, which means “light.” There are now six featured special needs artists, all affiliated with Kyriakon School, who work regularly with Maringka on the creative side. The business side has been more a challenge. The former Marketing major self-funded the project and managed everything on her own at first.
Now Maringka has a co-founder — longtime friend Trina Soetandar – and two interns working with her. They’ve launched a website and have big plans, including diversifying their product offerings and moving into B2B sales.
A collection coming out later in 2020 will experiment with some non-scarf offerings. It also involves a collaboration with a yet-to-be-announced brand based in Jakarta and Bali.
“I’m approaching corporations, thinking they would be interested in having merchandise that’s co-created by special needs artists,” explains Maringka, who expects scarves to remain a focus as the first terARTai product.
“They’re not just buying a cool product,” she adds. “It's redemptive; you’re helping other people.”
The same is true for Maringka. Though terARTai provides the new, entrepreneurial career path she’d been longing for, it’s also much, much more. Seeing the artists open their first bank account or, as in Mahadi’s case, buy Christmas presents for loved ones, confirms she is making a difference and where she’s supposed to be.
“We’re positively affecting the artists’ lives and the way they see life,” she says. “That’s gratifying.”