My new dress

I'm afraid I may have opened the floodgates with my very first online purchase. The transaction was completed in less than 2minutes. Barely enough time to register just what I was doing.

But look! It's vintage! It's got pleats! And sleeves! And stardust! In black and white! And it's got goddamn snow leopards all over it. I shall say no more, only that I can't wait to wear it out, drink cheap alcohol all night long and feel extremely pleased with myself. Dress and its picture from http://the-shoplifters.blogspot.com/.

Weather II

1. Weather is a system.
2. The system circulates.
3. Nothing lost, nothing gained.

Also, what are weathermaps but maps of change?

Pockets II

This is about circulation.

Start
1. Residency - get/give money
2. Money - put in pocket
3. Pocket - get object
4. Object - transform into something
5. Something - show to people
6. People - buy something, get/give money
Start again

Pockets

The first task: Buying
On the first day, I am going to give you RM0.50 to put in your pocket. You are to go out and buy something with it. It can be anything, you are only limited to two conditions: it doesn't cost you more than RM0.50 to get it, and it must fit in your pocket.

On the second day, I am going to give you RM5.00 to put in your pocket. You are to do the same as the first day. The third day, RM50.00, and the fourth day, RM500.00.

The second task: Keeping
Keep what you have bought in your pocket for the entire day. You can write about it if you want, take it out and look at it or think about it. Or you can just keep it there. Don't show it to anyone at this point. At the end of the day, try to take a picture of your pocket with what you have bought still inside it. If you don't have a camera with you, try to draw a picture of your pocket. If you feel that you're not good at drawing, you might try describing what your pocket looks like. You can write down your description, or just remember it.

The third task: Showing
Now you are going to transform what you have bought in your pocket into something you can take out and show your friends. You may want to build a little box for it, turn it into something else, paint it different colours, burn it to ashes, or anything you like. Because you had to do these tasks 4 separate times with different allowance of money, you will have four things you can take out of your pocket to show to and talk about with your friends, families or even strangers.

Expanded world

I only ever associated Ilya and Emilia Kabakov with that 'mausoleum' installation at Serpentine Gallery, London, and I never wanted to look at their work. But I chanced upon an image from Singapore Biennale 2008 of their installation and it looked wondrous. A little digging turned up their site, which is a little heavy on the flash-bells-n-whistles, but shows a whole range of beautiful, poetic and, why not say it, rather wacky projects.

Even the short descriptions of each work opens up whole new worlds. Here are some of my favorites, which I don't doubt you will love as well! Yes, it's very 'me'...

The Antenna
Whenever we look up at the sky, we involuntarily have a 'presentiment': unconsciously we anticipate some sort of communication from there; it seems that 'something' will be addressed directly to me...

Ten Characters
The inhabitants of these rooms are stricken by the dream of abandoning this depressing and interminable world. Each invents his own special means of escape or at least a way for ignoring the surroundings. This becomes a maniacal idea for each of them...

The Palace of Projects
A unique museum of dreams, hypotheses, and projects, even if unrealizable, the Palace of Projects stimulates the viewers' own fantasies, prompting him toward the resolution of his own tasks, awakening his imagination, providing the impulse for his own creative activity

The Ship of Siwa
The theme 'Ships and Boats of Ancient Egypt' is to be introduced into the curriculum of Siwah schools for the spring of 2005. The teachers will show slides depicting ancient vessels, they will explain their construction and purposes, and will assign the task of drawing them, either by copying these depictions or by improvising on this same theme.

The Life of Flies
Recently, a group of scientists has been proposing a hypothesis as to the direct and unmediated influence of fly associations on finance

The Bridge
There is no single description of what happened - the reports maintain the most adamant discrepancies. However, one inexplicable circumstance was obvious to all: after all of the commotion had subsided, the entire floor in the center of the hall was littered with groups of little white people, constantly exchanging places...

Here's a picture of The Palace of Projects:

My unhealthy state of mind means I'm not capable of very big thoughts these days, but maybe a little later on in the game I'd like to make work like this again. For now, I'm trying to do everything on a much more modest scale, a scale within my reach.

Kisses from Penang.

Some things never change

This made me cry:

"Kok berkata semasa pertemuan itu, beliau memberikan kepada anaknya ubat herba Cina dan pati ayam."

From here.

Sitting for SPM? Brands essence of chicken!

Pregnant? Brands essence of chicken!

Ditahan ISA? Brands essence of chicken + ginseng kau kau!

Some things never change, and those things are gonna bring us through.

Listen, Betta, Listen

... to the wisdom of Master Wu Gui!

"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery. Today? Today is a gift. That's why we call it the present." (OMG, so true. And without Master Yoda's idiosyncratic syntax!)

"There are no accidents." (Say this three times or keep repeating until unwilling ears receive)

"One often meets her destiny on the road she takes to avoid it." (Goddammit!)

"Let go of the illusion of control" (I'm trying...)

Thoughts on the weather

As I was saying to G., it's like the weather is the 3rd artist in residence up here at Balik Pulau. Storms, floods, mini landslides, blackouts, rising damp, puddles, showers, gentle rains, winds, sun, high humidity, a million stars in the cloudless night sky - we have seen it all with the promise of more to come. And right now? It's a wondrous day. Laundry day. Sit back day. Sex in the afternoon day. It will bring on an evening that aches on into night, because the day doesn't want to say goodbye.

I have no notions of my purpose up here, still floating from one day to the next, sitting and waiting. The only thing I am sure of is the experiencing of uncertainty. Uncertainty is not to be confused with timidity or sloth...

My thought petered out there, just as I was dwelling on the irony of wanting to speak resolutely of uncertainty. Who knows what it is. It is not a thing (an attribute) but a state (a condition). No knowledge or determination of will has helped me to overcome uncertainty. Believe me when I say this has proved profoundly frustrating.

The only way that helps me think about it is the weather. I wake up every morning trying to read myself like I read the clouds in the sky - will it be rain? Will it storm? The weather is making me realize what to do: arm yourself with knowledge and an inkling, be prepared for anything, have the right tools, keep watch... and just... submit.

Reformasi

UPDATE: Here is a satellite screenshot of Kamunting Detention Center, the maximum security prison where ISA detainees are kept.


Below is the mapped version, in which, as you cannot fail to notice, the prison does not exist.


Here also is a list of known detainees as of 2001. From Aliran's ISA Watch.
http://www.aliran.com/oldsite/monthly/2001/3e.htm

---

Let's see how long this list of people detained under ISA gets:

1. Raja Petra Kamaruddin
2. Tan Hoon Cheng
3. MP Teresa Kok

Don't lose your heads, people. Malaysians are not barbaric and FASCIST, UMNO is. Don't lose hope, don't pack your bags, don't dig out those Australian PR forms. We will all be needed when the change comes, and it's coming.

Are you reading Jose Saramago's 'SEEING' yet? Now's the time.

Happy Post 06

Lord knows I dearly love anything dotmatrix.

Awhiles back Z. downloaded a whole series of background art from a game called DinoRun. I just remembered them today and this is what my desktop looks like now:


It's the end of the game, in which our little dino hero has escaped the clutches of Dino-margeddon to reach Dino-topia! It's exactly the sort of place I'd like to live out my life at the end of my game (always assuming I managed to outrun extinction) - infinitely modest, yet elegant and comfortable.

The game itself is more fun than choosing an ice-cream at Baskin Robbins!

Endings and beginnings

Back in KL for a few days.

Hell and death, if I never have to see another scrap of blue plastic tarpulin as long as I draw breath I should die happy. The show is coming down at last.

Cobwebs are clearing fast in my head... Some hints about the infant, at this stage completely hypothetical show 'Seeing and Hearing': magic tricks, street magicians, little magic props and any old excuse to buy and exhibit a top hat...

More later.

Drunken post

Hahahah. Didn't take very long did it? Making noble inroads into that bottle of Smirnoff.

The night before last, as I fell asleep, I saw right in front of me, through the mosquito net, a small little green glow, as if a faint star had descended into my concrete hut. Stupid and hazy between dream and life, my thoughts ran thus:

OMG. It's a light. WTF is it doing there? Am I dreaming? I feel quite awake though.
*blink*
Shit, it's still there. You know what they say about seeing a light in the jungle - don't look at it! It may be some pontianiak shennenigans, dey!
But it's so pretty...
*blink*
Still there. Aiyoh. Maybe it's a _______. But who am I kidding, those things disappeared ages ago. Whatever. Sleep la.

Well, I didn't dare to hope, but G. confirmed tonight that there are fireflies around here. So I have been visited. Poor lonely little thing. If it comes again I will stare and stare at it, I promise!

Tomorrow I will try to catch this almost mythical U401 bus into town.

Yesterday night, because of the day's rain, the stars were out in all their glory. I turned off the lights and sat staring at them, rapt and humbled. That simple grace I've known intermittently throughout my life, brought into being by the most cliched of things (sunsets, stars, full moons, ballet, etc.), wrapped around me like an invisible blanket...

Betta: You know, I wish I would just see likd a snake or a giant centipede, so that I can freak out once and then be done with it
G.: Hey, give it time
Betta: I just want to get the freak out out of the way, you know
G.: You may not even see one!
Betta: *forging ahead* So did this centipede actually get onto your foot or was it NEAR your foot? These things matter .
G.: Uhh. It was NEAR, not actually ON.
Betta: *shudder*

Working backwards

Think it softly and say it in a whisper.

For some unknown reason, I think that the show at the end of the year may be called 'Seeing and Hearing'.

But don't ask why and don't tell anyone. Yet.

Who would believe it, 10 years on...

... we say these words with more urgency than ever. Read it and then read Jose Saramago's "Seeing"

DEKLARASI PERMATANG PAUH
Menyedari gesaan al-Quran yang bermaksud “tidaklah kami mahu melainkan untuk melakukan islah sekuat daya kami";

Dan berilhamkan tradisi budaya-budaya Asia yang keseluruhannya menganjurkan pembaharuan diri dan masyarakat; Dan menginsafi bahawa Malaysia kini dicengkam kemelut yang dahsyat dan memerlukan kekuatan dalaman untuk bangun semula; Maka kami rakyat Malaysia yang berbilang bangsa dan agama bertekat untuk melancarkan gerakan reformasi yang menyeluruh:

Gerakan reformasi yang terpancar perjuangan hati nurani,dari kesedaran bahawa sesungguhnya diri manusia itu mulia dan merdeka, mempunyai hak dan tanggungjawab, diri manusia haram dizalimi dan diaibkan, haram di belenggu dan disekat tanpa mengikut proses dan undang-undang yang adil;

Gerakan reformasi untuk menegakkan keadilan untuk semua, yang kuat dan yang lemah, yang kaya dan yang miskin; membersihkan institusi dan proses undang-undang dari dicemari oleh penyalahgunaan kuasa dan rasuah;

Gerakan reformasi untuk mendaulatkan kuasa rakyat melalui proses demokrasi. Demokrasi itu satu kemestian, kerana semangat keadilan yang ada dalam diri manusia membolehkan demokrasi dilaksana, tetapi kecenderungan manusia untuk berlaku zalim menjadikan demokrasi satu kewajipan;

Gerakan reformasi untuk memperjuangkan keadilan ekonomi,menjana pertumbuhan dan pengagihan yang saksama, jangan yang kaya bertambah kaya yang miskin papa kedana. Dunia ini mencukupi untuk keperluan semua, tetapi tidak mencukupi untuk memenuhi kerakusan individu;

Gerakan reformasi untuk membanteras rasuah dan penyalahgunaan kuasa, mengikis manipulasi pasaran oleh segelintir golongan rakus dan mahakaya;

Gerakan reformasi untuk memperkukuhkan jayadiri budaya yang dinamis, setia kepada warisan bangsa yang murni dan terbuka kepada segala yang baik dari semua budaya;

Gerakan reformasi untuk membawa bangsa Malaysia ke zaman maklumat dan dunia tanpa sempadan, menjana kebijaksanaan, keyakinan dan keterbukaan untuk menjalin persahabatan sejagat berdasarkan prinsip kebenaran dan keadilan.

Kami akan menggerakkan reformasi ini dengan aman, mengikut semangat perlembagaan dan bernafaskan prinsip pemerintahan undang-undang.

Masanya telah tiba. Bersatulah untuk reformasi.

Permatang Pauh
12 September 1998


PERMATANG PAUH DECLARATION
Being conscious of the Quranic injunction which urges striving towards betterment;

And inspired by the Asian traditions, which all encourage renewal for the individual and for society;

And acknowledging that Malaysia is in the grip of a terrible crisis and requires recourse to its inner strengths in order to rise again,

We the citizens of Malaysia of all cultural and religious backgrounds are determined to launch a movement for comprehensive reform:

A reform movement shining with a light radiating from aspiring and pure hearts; from the awareness that man is truly noble and free, with rights and responsibilities, that it is a sacrilege to abuse and denigrate any man or woman, to bind and restrict any man or woman without following the due process of just laws;

A reform movement to establish justice for all, the weak and strong, the rich and poor, to preserve the institutions and processes of law from the defilement of graft and abuse of power;

A reform movement to sanctify the power of the people through democratic means, for democracy is an imperative: man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible, but man's inclination to injustice makes democracy necessary;

A reform movement that champions economic justice, one that advocates fairness in economic growth and distribution so that the rich do not get richer at the expense of the poor, for the world has enough for everyone, but too little to satisfy everyone’s greed;

A reform movement to eradicate graft and abuse of power, to strip the opulent and greedy clique of their power to manipulate the market;

A reform movement to reinforce a dynamic cultural identity, where faith in our noble cultural traditions is intact, but there is openness to all that is good in all traditions;

A reform movement to launch the Malaysian nation into the information age and the borderless world, encouraging wisdom, self-assurance and openness towards a global friendship based on the principles of truth and justice.

We launch this reform movement as a peaceful movement, in accordance with the spirit of the Constitution and in observance of the principles of the rule of law.

The hour has come. Unite for Reformasi.

Permatang Pauh
12 September 1998

It's a hill not a mountain

Balik Pulau, Penang

My accommodations:

Hard to say. To call it a house would be somewhat over generous, yet 'hut' seems a little harsh. It is true that the walls and floor suffer from a lack of paint, making the atmosphere closer to a cell-block than anyone could wish. But there is hot water and electricity, the roof is tiled, and there is internet! It is true that upon closer inspection, me and G. discovered today that the 'mattress' resembles a giant dish sponge. But I haven't slept under a mosquito net nor fallen asleep to the sound of insects since I was a child.

My days:

Long and full with reading, finding the most comforting configuration for the furniture, dusting away cobwebs which seem to grow overnight, fixing food, drinking vodka and staring into space. It started raining yesterday night and continued all day today. At some point I'm sure we were in the middle of a cloud which was gathering more and more weight until it finally turned itself into a giant downpour.

My friends:

G. is the other artist, living in the hut next to mine. She has been here 6 weeks and is positivity and resourcefulness itself! We oriented ourselves well from the very beginning, seeming to sense when the other requires solitude, use of the modem or an offer of alcohol. There are a few forlorn looking dogs and a cat named Mexico who adopted G. in the early days. L. and N. are a Thai couple who work for the resort up the hill. We are an odd little community to be sure, but very comfortable. This place certainly needs to see a good party or two, which we plan to have in the near future.

My work and mind:

Dormant. Both seem to be slumbering away in a dark corner. I prod them every day to see how they are doing, but not too hard! Every morning I wake up and find the weight still there. The other evening I watched L. and N. walk together down the path at the bottom of the hill. They have been married 27 years. I liked seeing how they appeared to communicate silently - you could almost draw some faint lines between them if the idea wasn't so crass. It made me happy and I felt a little like my old self again. I wanted to learn sign language when I was here... maybe that's what I'll do.

Good night.

From the bottom of the river

Hello there. I'm floating to the surface again, getting used to life after some tough times. There will be more updates soon. Miss me? Hehe.

Music in my head

The opening of the Cello Suite No.3 from the manuscript of Anna Magdalena Bach, dated 1730.

As I limp along making work for this exhibition, the thought has grown in my mind that I no longer want to make art for awhile. Perhaps a year, maybe even more. At first I dismissed it as the usual stressed-artist hyperbole. When it didn't go away, I became very anxious, started feeling sick in the head - short and sharp attacks of chronic paranoia, unhappiness and panic. My instinct was to push harder and harder to try and reach a breakthrough on the other side - it's always worked before. I guess I did breakthrough, but unlike before, what I've found on the other side... is nothing. I feel a bit of shock, yet now I've really accepted it I feel a little calmer.

It's not something a holiday can fix, or even a fully paid- up residency, or a huge-ass commission. If I was invited to Venice today (haha, yeah, preposterous notion, but what the hell), I tell you honestly I'd feel no joy, only anxiety. But M.S. has asked me to collaborate with him at Asiatopia later in the year, and I feel quite happy about that. I've decided that I must try not to do too many things that cause me to feel anxious, or at some point I may find myself only ever acting out of fear for my career... Now, that's a far smaller life than I ever dreamed for myself.

Go to the places that feed you, not take things from you.

I was going to tell you about Bach's Cello Suites. I've been listening to it while I work and it's like having a friend who understands you and is uplifting you all at once! Cellos have a great old noble sound. I did have a night of great sex to the Cello Suites... so remembered warmth probably has alot to do with it. I highly recommend it. (The sex, and the music, and especially, both together)

Happy Post 05 - My head is a music toy made in China

A present from G. - one of my favorite things in the world. Been wanting to post an ode to it for a long time.

(Super) Happy Post 04 - Sailor Shirt Bliss

No time to post pics, but all my clothes dreams came true yesterday. The puffy sleeve sailor shirt I have been obsessing about for months (staring at it the through the boutique window, special trips to the mall where the boutique is so I can fondle it with a wistful look on my face, etc.) is mine mine mine! It is hanging in my closet - making me happy and making the other shirts cower in their non-awesome-non-puffy-sleeve-ness.

Betta (in the boutique): OMG it's on sale
Godzilla: *silence*
Betta (trying it on): Oh, should I get it? Is today the day?
Godzilla: *Exasperated* It's 50 percent! Just buy it and be done with it!
Betta (at the cash register): My dreams are coming true!
Godzilla: Well, it's not hard if you set the bar so low...

And then, dear reader, it gets better!! Godzilla spots ANOTHER sailor shirt - with lots of buttons and a strange detachable bib-thing on the front. I put it on for fun and we both ooh-ahhed at the reflection. And then when I came out of the dressing room she was paying for it on her plastic.

Godzilla: Present.
Betta: OMG. No? Rilly? No I can't. No you can't! No? Rilly? OMG
Godzilla: At least you can wear this one out.
Betta: OMG. Sniff. (Ignoring not-so-subtle insult to personal tastes)

Sigh. I wore bib-front to dinner yesterday, feeling like the Queen of the Nile.

I AM SO HAPPY. Ok baibai, I got to work now.

Happy Post 03 - Tomatomania

Ok, so three Happy Posts in a row are probably pushing it. But it's either that, or I write about how my first day back in KL already has me in tears. Yes dear reader, real tears - of frustration, fear and just... unhappiness. I want to say: it's this city. But this city is not my enemy, according to a song by J.K. it's just like a reckless friend. Looking down at Klang river from the LRT the other day was the same as looking into a mirror. I felt exactly like all that muddy, smelly water rushing and rushing somewhere... not knowing where, just going on, hoping to find a way to the open sea. Are you thinking of that scene in Spirited Away where the River God comes in for a bath? Me too...


Anyway, feast your eyes on Newt's home-grown tomatoes. They are red, big, how else can I say it, BULBOUS. So full of the sun and the earth - doesn't it make you realize that really the earth moves around the sun, which is a great star burning off energy? All that - just to have a tomato. It's amazing. As I said to Newt, I may come off with a readable poem now and then, but she grows TOMATOES.

Happy Post 02 - Selamat Membogel

I can't remember the last time I wanted to

...take all my clothes off and run naked down a mountain lane with absolutely nowhere to go and nothing to do. No doubt insects would be a concern, but on the upside - no tan-lines.

Well that's exactly how I felt during a recent trip up a mountain in Penang, where I will be spending the latter part of the year on an artist residency. I must say the accommodations are a little cell-like, a little heavy on the exposed concrete aesthetic, if you get my meaning. But I'm a big girl and I can take it, besides, it's nothing that a few feminine touches of domesticity can't make good again.

I was dreading this trip due to the insane amounts of work to be done back in KL, but once I caught sight of the sea, I could physically - let me emphasize this - physically register the immediate drop in stress levels. My phone kept ringing on the drive all the way up the hill, continued throughout the day in my little hut - and yet, I didn't feel like flinging my head into a wall. It was as if... hahah, they can reach me but can't get me! Hahahahha.

As I was saying, I wanted to take off my clothes and say to the sun: hello! Look at me! Yup, every god-blessed naked inch. Except that there ARE caretakers living on the mountain too and I didn't want to be rude.

I ate, bathed, finished the rest of Jose Saramago's extraordinary book Seeing in one sitting, I ate somemore, smoked (I actually enjoyed every cancerous breath, as opposed to needing the drug to steel my unsteady nerves), stared into space, walked. When night fell the jungle seemed to close in around me with its sounds and velvet darkness. I got a little scared then, but I put the light on, crawled under my mosquito net and fell into blessed, dreamless sleep.

I am back in KL again. My back aches, my head aches. My heart aches.

But at least I know what I was made for: getting stoned, happy, creative and butt naked. What an affirmation.

PS. still on basics with blogger, so no pics, not even topless ones. Sorry!

Happy Post 01 - Happy Cooking

Updated: Here is a picture of Chez Jacques (on the left) with a good friend of his. This picture of two old men sitting by a river fills my bosom with a strange mix of lust and extreme good-will. Do visit his website www.jacquespepin.net for free recipes and cooking tips like how to properly sharpen a knife or how to chop parsley.

-

So I have been quite unhappy lately, as if it takes a genius to figure out from my recent posts here. To alleviate the steady stream of misery, I have decided to introduce a new series called Happy Posts. My life right now is an exhausting ride of high highs and inexplicable lows, but there are quiet and simple things which I enjoy too - which I will try to share in my Happy Posts. Happy reading.

-

One thing that relieves this heaviness that I sometimes get in my head is watching Jacques Pepin's cooking show 'Fast Food My Way'. He is one of the world's top chefs, a master in French cuisine. Unlike big-dick cooks like Gordon 'F-word' Ramsay, Anthony Bourdain and Jamie Oliver , he makes cooking seem like the most joyful and natural thing in the world and even the worst food-dummy would find it impossible to be intimidated by him. I especially remember watching him kill a live lobster on TV with consummate grace and skill, and thinking to myself: I could do that. Yes, including the Lobster Fricassee which followed.

But I'm a lousy vegetarian, so I want to give you a fail-safe Jacques Pepin recipe for pasta primavera, or a pasta salad. I should know, because I just made it tonight! It is simple, healthy and delicious and it will make you feel better about life.

You'll need:
3/4 bag of pasta (I like to use big shells or bow-ties)
1 tub of fresh button mushrooms
3 small narrow English cucumbers (here, we can get Japanese ones - they're dark and knobbly)
1 big bag of cherry tomatoes (because generally our normal tomatoes are hateful and tasteless)
I bag of sweet basil leaves
olive oil
salt
cracked black pepper
some garlic

First heat a pot of water for the pasta. Add about 1 tsp salt to the water - for taste and to lower the boiling point.

As the water is boiling, prepare your vegetables. Have a big bowl ready because the whole salad will be mixed in there. Halve the cherry tomatoes. Slice mushrooms. Slice cucumbers quite thinly. (to prepare cucumbers, cut off both ends then rub the cut-offs against the ends of the cucumber to draw out the bitterness. Use a peeler to peel of 3 sections of skin so that you make a pretty pattern when you slice it). Tear basil leaves into rough pieces. Put all of this in the big bowl. Add olive oil, salt and pepper. Also add some chopped garlic (not too much ok? Maybe 1 small clove. All you want is a hint of it because this is a very fresh-tasting salad).

While you're preparing your vegetables, the water will have come to the boil. Add your pasta and cook for approx. 11 - 14mins, stirring constantly. Do not overcook your pasta - you want it to be al dente, which means it has some bite to it, but it is not still crunchy (crunchy means it's not cooked!).

Here is a secret tip. After your vegetables are ready, take two small scoops of the water that the pasta is boiling in and spoon it over the vegetables to soften them. This really makes it taste great.

Now drain your pasta, stir some olive oil through it to keep it from sticking. Add the pasta to your bowl of vegetables and olive oil. Toss well. Season to your taste. Voila!

I like to add cheese to mine to make it more filling. You can add some ham, bacon or sliced sausage.

The measurements I give here are for a whopping big bowl - something that will last you for days. So if you want less, you may want to halve everything.

Happy cooking.

-

PS. The editing functions are not working in blogger, hence no linking and images. Will be rectified soon.

My first year in fear

You have to understand that suffering does not make better art. Suffering - whether physical or mental pain - makes work difficult or impossible. I hate to spend any more time on suffering than what it already takes up - I hate to write or talk or make art about it.

What makes better art? Not talent. Talent makes good (great) art possible. Practice makes better art. In fact, when it comes to art, maybe even life, I think stubbornness trumps talent every time.

-

I remember I used to approach things with a sort of fearlessness. I have a Christian Boltanski quote about artist fear: 'I'm always a beginner, and the most important thing is always the next piece. We artists never know if we can do it again. You have done something - and most of the time I hate what I have done a few years ago - and you don't know if you can do something now. The good artists are usually the very young or the very old. The ones who are very young are so stupid that they have no fear. And when they are very old they aren't afraid any more. In the meantime, you are always, always, afraid.'

The thing about fearlessness is that you're not being particularly brave, it's just that it never occurs to you that you'll never NOT be able to make anything. Until recently, I thought I could go on producing things forever until the day I died - at a pace only hampered by physical limitations. I'd get tired - of myself, of what I did - but never scared.

This is my first year living with fear. It's like going to sleep in your own bed and waking up in someone else's house where everything feels strange and unsure. I remember meeting A.C. for the first time on the steps of a gallery I used to work in. I'd heard all about him - talented, sensitive, success at a young age - and then, a breakdown. We didn't speak for very long, but I really liked his eyes, even though they looked a bit wild.

When you go over the edge, you're never the same again. You can recover, maybe become older and wiser, but you can't go back to who you were. Sometimes you regret it terribly, because it's all you want to do - to go back and begin again before all that wasted time and energy. But I've met some people who come back and they live in their own skin again, whole and complete. There's never a guarantee.

Whatever it is, you have to try and make sure that you don't let yourself go over the edge, ok?

Updates

I'm working on a moon. A paper moon, to be exact.

I'm reading Seeing by Jose Saramago.

I'm listening to a house filled with music. The oldies have a huge reunion going on and our living room is overflowing with old bandmates. It warms the cockles of my heart to hear them rehearsing for a performance. It makes me think - of a dream that everyone has, some destination you've always had in your head, which you'll have until you lay down to rest for the last time... and everything depends how near or far you are to that destination at the end.

Also, you know, our parents really did have better music.

I'm wearing my silk shirt with a big ribbon bow at the neck (Z.: 'It keeps getting bigger!'), and new short short hair.

I'm visiting these two sites: Tongue In Chic for clothes and Muxtape.com for music.

I need

a holiday

Medley

Haven't felt like posting here too much lately. Lots of shit going down in my universe; it's a regular cosmic storm and I'm waiting for the planets to align themselves again. A few fleeting impressions:

The weather has been unaccountably pleasant recently. Someone attributed it to less drivers on the road due to the recent fuel price hike. Oh B., love your optimism darling, but it will take more than a few lousy Ringgit to prise Malaysians away from their vehicles of mass destruction (I know because I'm one of them). So I have been waking up to balmy, windy mornings and watching pretty evenings dissolve into night. It's lovely, but I've always found that good weather mocks my less than happy disposition.

'If you know about life, you hang on tight and don't let go'. Can't remember where I read that, but it's stuck somehow.

The wonderful Edward Winkleman has posted about confronting that squirm-in-your-pants awkward can't-remember-your-name situation. It is so nice to and reassuring to know that even seasoned, suave gallerists are human too! The sweetest part is that his partner Bambino jumps in to save him when he notices that Ed is in trouble! Yes, having a partner like that puts social faux pas into perspective - what's a little embarrassment when you know someone's always got your back.

'And he knew he would love her until the very last syllable of recorded time'. '...the very last syllable of recorded time' - in the whole of Patrick O'Brian's 16 volume opus I think that phrase stands out as a true gem. What does 'forever' mean to you?

I have a theory. Here it is: that people who come from broken families have very intense and skewed views on love and life. In my experience, I can tell pretty much instantly if someone is like me. They're often likeable, proud, willing to please, secretive and stubborn. Sometimes things like trust and loyalty feel like a matter of life and death to me, and there are subtle divisions and demarcations of honour and love that seem to be of such inflated importance as to seem pathological. As the years go by, you realize your parents are only human - flawed beings who did the best they could from what they had. From there, you have to decide to move on, or perpetuate destructive cycles which go back only Buddha knows how long. Sometimes you swing so wildly in the opposite direction - you want to try so very hard to overcome some perceived flaw or wrong, to convince yourself you are not, will not, will never be like them. If you are beautiful, if you are intelligent, successful, charming and friendly and loyal and nice then perhaps you can make it better. But no, only love can make whole the various hurts that the absence of love has caused. Unfortunately people who are unhappy never believe they deserve anything they haven't worked hard for.

So go give any control freaks you know a hug today. It's only a defense mechanism, they often can't help it.

That's why I love my work so much, too much. Because it loves me back exactly the same amount. It is mathematical, reliable 'until the very last syllable of recorded time'. So much of my ego is invested in it, that when I can't work I feel like I am dying.

I remember something D. said to me once: 'It's not your fault'. Devastated, there was only one other conclusion for me: 'Then it must be yours'.

Ah, hmmm. Anyways.

To me, art is...

First of all, clearing a space for a studio.

And then you might let it sit idle for a long time, because you can't bear to go into a room that's made specially for work, and see it so completely bare.

Because, what if... you never make anything again?

Then one day you'll go there and maybe there will be things to do and maybe there won't.

Right now, there's nothing to do. So I'm waiting. Sticking things up on the wall, curling up like a rodent on the floor, feeling somewhat like a hedgehog - prickly on the outside, raw and squishy on the inside.

The sun glints off the solar panel of my neighbour's roof, grey clouds overhead. I am tired of running all over the place chasing ideas, so I am going to sit here and wait.

Listening to: Fela Kuti, Shuffering and Smiling
'I want you all to please take your minds out of these music contraptions
and put your minds into any goddamn church, any goddamn mosque...'

What I'd like

For the seas
I'd like a ship
old, but weatherly
with two eyes
always looking outward

Shorebound
I'd like a circus tent
colourful, but shabby
with a noble blue pennant
calling me home under the evening sky

For love
I'd like a sturdy rope
in steady hands
long enough for every journey
strong enough at each return

For the future
I'd like a another day
lengthy, but fruitful
and a chance
to see you again

For now
I'd like a prayer
Silent, colourless and weightless
for all these things
I think I'd like
I think I'd need
To live the life I want

For Z.

Independence

Today filled me up
like a full river
lying in a cup that's too small

Tonight is a hollow boat
on a trickling stream
far from the sea

Too much
Not enough

-

Some nights the tattoo on my back tingles and burns - it wants to tear itself off the skin with longing for a horizon line. Here in my room in my house in my housing estate with the view of the neighbours opposite, and the apartments beyond that, and the telephone towers beyond that, and the dirty night beyond that, and the stars that hang in it, winking and teasing. Love is in the rooms, sleeping in the beds, cooking in the kitchen. But the sea and the stars, the moon, the great big world calling: books are not enough, love is not enough. Home is not enough. Home is my warm stomach, my dying pet, waking up in the morning to find yourself planted with the roots of a tree - demanding love, trust, time, effort. Home is too much.

I feel like a box with a curse inside it, and a picture of a ship drawn on the lid like a magic seal. I look at it looking out at the world - both cure and disease.

I wonder about my mysterious grandmother. Maybe it's her living inside me.

It doesn't judge

I got given a little digital chia pet, and I'm lovin' it. So much so I hope I don't water it to death. It comforts me during these dark deadline days, by saying things like 'wat up dog', not to mention just sitting there all by its cutesome.

?

I'm going to write you a poem about art
and this is it:

It's midnight
in my city
I'm two rooms
with a window in the wall
the world's in one
sleeping on the floor
nothing's in the other
except the door.

Laying traps

Put a word out onto the forest floor. It can be any forest. Tie a piece of thread around it. Will it to take a walk. If you try hard enough it will start to move. It may take days or weeks. If you get tired of waiting, find another spot in the forest (maybe find another forest). Lay another word out. Will THAT to take a walk. Repeat as long as things remain static. Keep trying. Don’t worry, once one of them moves just a little, the others will follow, because you've tied them together! Hunt, kill and feast.

Maturin II

After I collected my degree (it's still rolled up somewhere, I don't know where), came home and started making art, I thought I'd never want to do anything else. It makes my life so fun and meaningful because I get to indulge in whatever obsession of the moment - barricade tape, ships, tattoos, footballs, astronomy, metronomes.

Progressively, it's been getting more meaningful but less fun. I don't know how that happened. The other night I divulged a secret to T.W. - I often make things thinking of the object first, and then insert some kind of 'message' - that's how 'Executive Toy' came about: you see, all I wanted to do was make ceramic balls and paint on them. Yeah, I know. This post is doing myself no favours.

I've been thinking seriously about going to fashion school next year. My unborn label 'Maturin ' has been on my mind constantly in the past couple of months. I don't want to be in the fashion industry. I don't have a passion for that, no passion to 'be on top'. I only want to make clothes and other things that are crafted with a bit of care and integrity. I look at all the stuff that's in these cute new boutiques today and I have no idea where they come from - which factory in China or Indonesia? Cheap fabrics, poor stitching. Clothes you wear for 2 months and throw out after. It's terrible. And then there are the big clothing companies like GAP and TopShop - although they're better designed, they're still not built to last. I'm lucky enough that I can fit my late grandmother's clothes perfectly - they're probably more than half a century old. The colors are as bright as ever, the edge binding shows no signs of fraying, seams and hems are perfectly intact, even the damn buttons refuse to come off!

I think when you make something like that, something beautiful and useful, it defies the ostentatious and gratuitous commercialism that has come to define the fashion industry. I don't want someone to tell me the meaning of value and luxury. That's why Maturin will be a fashion label, NOT a brand. It's just another reason and avenue to do things my way - independent, self-starting and sustainable. I think that buying good things makes you buy less things. My personal wardrobe is pretty small, and unlikely to grow much bigger.

Anyway, these are just the 3am thoughts of an artist who hasn't been using her hands enough the past six months.

Grace

I've been caught in free-lancer's nightmare the past week, feeling as if Rome is burning down around me. Money woes, exhaustion, fatigue, ill health, low spirits, anxiety, frequent and inexplicable tears, guilt (did you know 10,000 people are dead from the cyclone that hit Myanmar? My friend M.S. is safe, thanks be). But I've been shown a great deal of kindness and understanding, including gifts, financial advice, love and a particularly generous and gentle email from an editor I swear has been enduring my deadline caprices month after month. Sometimes I do wish things were hard enough to drive me off across the sea to better lands, but there it is. I'm here to stay. Love and warm wishes wafting your way into the cybersphere.

I wants me a...

JUMPSUIT!

This one's from Baby Phat, but mine would be black or navy blue stretch satin with a row of buttons all the way down to...

No hooker heels, no jewelry, just a bare feet or some flat shoes. OMG so much fun.

Yes yes yes. I don't care what you say! Jumpsuit!

Tools

My brain is sore and tired.

This has gotten me out of more than a few work-related adversities. It's helped me out for the past ten years, the best advice I have ever heard:

Out of clutter, find simplicity.
From discord, find harmony.
In the middle of difficulty, lies opportunity.

- Albert Einstein's rules of work.

Ghosts II

You must be feeling the way I'm feeling
Cos' I haven't thought about you in a long time
You must be crying the way I'm crying
Cos' I haven't cried about you in a long time

I don't know, someone else can write the verses. All I want to do is lie here and think mean things.

Everyday magicks

Yesterday I cracked open an egg for my breakfast and lo! It had two yolks. I was very excited and scrambled for a camera to document the phenomenon, but couldn't find one. So you are just gonna have to take my word for it. And enjoy this here freaky picture of triple double yolks I found on the innernets.

The omellete I made was pretty much the same, if a little egg-ier.

It's LABOUR DAY for fuck's sake

Betta throws up her hands in disgust at herself, abandons work and goes for a walk in the park.

Moving

I am seriously considering a sort-of permanent move to Penang around 2009 - 2010. This *clicky* is just one reason why. The other is the sea of course. The insane stress of KL life caps it all.

You comin'?

Painting

A friend was trying to convince me to do a painting show. (She was so persuasive) I said, ok. I'll do it. You know what I'll paint? Unicorns. That's all I'll paint. Unicorns unicorns unicorns. Unicorns drinking, fucking, dancing, sleeping, walking, dying. Unicorns everywhere. People will love it. I'll cover the city in unicorns. No, the world! Palestine. Turkey. Burma. Sydney. Kuala Lumpur.

Yes, you take my word for it. One day. Don't say you weren't warned. Unicorns are the next big thing (for me).

Comfort zone

Instead of green zones and combat zones, we should (we must) have comfort zones. A proposal: that no combat must be allowed to happen when people are sleeping. When you are sleeping, there can be no fighting; you are invisible, you are dreaming, you are given universal amnesty. Yes, be you murderous dictator or homeless thief, let there be a law unto all humanity: you shall sleep in safety, without fear.

Note to self: make a bed that is also a room. Let it be on wheels. It can move around. People can crawl inside it wherever they find one.

Yin thoughts

Am I the only one who thinks Britney's 'Piece of Me' is a really good song?

-

Frank Lloyd Wright's Monument to Haroun Al-Rashid

Caliph Haroun Al Rashid used to walk the streets of ancient Baghdad disguised as an ordinary citizen. I want to do that. I want to walk without fear in every corner of my city, not scared of murderers or rapists or drug dealers. Maybe if you're not afraid of being hurt, mentally or physically, then nothing will happen to you. Sometimes I think there are two mes in this body. One is completely crazy and reckless, I'll do anything it takes for anything or just for a thrill, I swear. Even if you're close to me, you don't now how close I am to this crazy person inside me. The only thing that holds me back is that I actually care about people. Maybe when I do crazy things it hurts others because they thought they knew you well. That's why disguise, fantasy and make-believe is necessary. I really wonder how much violence I am capable of. I don't like killing insects, but that's because of my Buddhist upbringing. I swear, it's because of Buddhism that I am better equipped to deal with the... utter solidity of reality. It's more violence of emotions that I'm thinking of. I don't want to be violent towards life or people, I don't have those kinds of kinks, but I do want to do things that are very irrational. I once told someone, who told me I was beautiful and asked me if I was a model, that I was a prostitute, just for the fun of it. He wasn't amused and walked away in disgust. Hey, that's too bad, I just wanted to play, you know? I get really disappointed when people don't get a proposed game. But then some sick people don't understand that it's only a game. Hmm. You can't have it both ways, Betta, people tell me. But fuck that. I think that you can have it this way, that way, or any fucking way you want if that's what turns you on. 'This world... is solid through and through', I remember that from a movie I watched. Sometimes I feel like I am drugged, how calm and rational I get is only a measure of a huge sea inside me that is pushing and pulling in all directions like a big storm breaking. You could probably label me 'the one most likely to run away and join the circus'. But I was born into a newer world, freaks have 'scenes' now, you know! I hate all scenes. I like freaks, real freaks. And there aren't anymore circuses... if you want you have to invent your own. You know why I like Miyazaki's films so much, because you can sort of tell that they are just like, 10 percent of this person's vast inner world that's filled with monsters, treasure, freaks, pain and pleasure. I don't have a problem being alone or being ignored at all, I can constantly amuse myself. I am not afraid of dying. Something in the world is getting darker - more lies and pain. Really sick kind of pain - torture, imprisonment. I think people just don't know what to do with themselves. Their imaginations are dead.

-

La Luna chair by Kenneth Cobonpue

The moon. La luna... she knows me, doesn't she.

Desire

Damn, Phillip Lim is definitely one of my favorite labels. He is just SO GOOD. Look at this dress!

3.1 Phillip Lim Infinitely Pleated Tulip Cocoon Dress

Oh yes, I'm sure I heard a collective sigh of desire from every girl (and maybe a guy or two - you know who you are) out there.

besfren

Just another late-night drunken conversation:

Betta: Acceptance, huh? You know, for you, I would seriously hide a body. Like, seriously. I'd be like, ok, sure. You could definitely come to me.

Godzilla: Yeah, so would I. I would give you crap about it, but I too would help you dispose of a dead body. However I wouldn't accept you using cocaine. Cos' that's like suicide.

Free lancing

Are you a free-lancer? Do you recognize this deadly cycle:

Deadline crush > Angry mob demanding completion of project > Stress levels skyrocket > Project completed by dint of miracle (with 10 more to go) > Heavy drinking

Knock back another scotch and press repeat. Watch health and efficiency levels decline steadily. Personal grooming goes to the dogs as well.

I miss making art.

MATAHATI: For Your Pleasure - unresolved thoughts

This is a long post I am writing to hopefully clear the confusion in my head.

Writing a concise review about the recently concluded Matahati retrospective is turning out to be a torturous, laborious exercise. I've heard that your brain hurting is a sign that it's working, but I do wish it wouldn't hurt so bad.

Basically I am trying to weave about 5 or 6 related ideas together, but they keep slipping through my fingers. If I compartmentalize maybe it will make more sense. Any comments are very much welcomed. Here we go:

On institutionalism and scale:
The mega scale of this exhibition and the fact that it's hosted by an institution (as opposed to being a commercial or independent endeavor) means two things: accessibility and recognition. Both mean different things to the public and the arts community.

On accessibility and recognition:
Both accessibility and recognition signify Matahati being situated in the 'mainstream'. It's important to distinguish the between the two because it gives us a clearer notion of what 'mainstream' really means - it's not some monolith center characterized by popularity, but is actually very complex.

Recognition acknowledges the importance of Matahati in an art historical context. When they emerged in the 1990s, their work (along with contemporaries like Tan Chin Kuan and Zulkifli Yusof) was seen to be a reaction against state-sponsored Malay revivalism and Islamisation. If during the 80s and 90s, forms of expression that embodied Malay-muslim culture were seen to be the 'mainstream', then Matahati's use of the figure, the straightforward expression of social, political and economic issues was seen in opposition to that - they were in the periphery.

This huge retrospective seems to indicate that Matahati has moved from being 'alternative' into the 'mainstream', but only in a limited sense! It is true that they are celebrated in the arts community, and their works are highly sought after by collectors. But what does this mean for the general public? I'm willing to wager that for the majority of Malaysians, this retrospective is their first contact with the works of Matahati.

Which tells us that this idea of 'mainstream' has changed drastically since the 1970s. Let me explain. The 1971 National Cultural Congress and resulting National Cultural Policy in effect proscribed what our culture should embody: it should be Malay and it should be Islamic. For all its flaws, it put forward a proposal that culture should be at the very center of society, that it played a vital role in the forming of communities.

The fact is that, today, due to the failure of public art institutions and art education, art has become marginalized amongst the general public. However misguided it may have been, NCP's championing of abstract and decorative art (as opposed to social-realism) was truly socially engaged. The long-lasting effect of this cultural policy on the nation's public as well as artistic psyche is testament to the possibility of artists playing a central role in their community.

The situation today: you have art that is socially engaged in CONTENT (exemplified by this Matahati exhibition), but is unable to engage with its audience. Economic, cultural and critical vitality has migrated to the former 'periphery' (evidenced in the growth of commercial galleries, private collectors and art initiatives), leaving the mainstream institutions hollow. Don't kid yourselves, however! The center remains, it's simply dead. This is no reason to rejoice. While the vitality of the art scene means great things for artists - growing opportunities coming from the international and regional scenes, as well as the private art market means that increasingly, artists can be independent - it is the audience who are losing out. The gap between the arts and its audience is widening every day. It is ironic and rather heart breaking that as the art scene grows bigger and stronger, our audience is not growing with us. No one who is an artist or who loves art likes seeing people poke at paintings, but can we really blame them?

Which is why this exhibition is significant. To a certain extent, it bridges the vast gap between socially engaged art and the actual society it is trying to engage. It implicitly demonstrates the importance of and hitherto vacuum that has been left by public art institutions because of incompetence, mismanagement and apathy.

So, what now for art practitioners? Will you easily abandon the freedom of independent practice and channel your energy and talent towards the institutional center where it is much needed? Certainly it wasn't very long ago that Galeri Petronas was simply another white elephant hosting the occasional desultory exhibition on nature photography.

So when we talk about 'mainstream', let's just be sure we're not cutting that pie too small.

Hallelujah

Bai bai MyFace. Good while it lasted. I feel so light.

Betta talks to Mum

(A project in the works for ThisIsCurating 1 - 40, curated by Joel Mu at First Draft, Sydney)

Mum, born 1952, Kuala Lumpur
Likes gardening, Tai Chi, tea drinking, reading and writing.

On Untitled (Footballs), 2006:
Footballs…
Yes.
There’s always something about your work, Betta, that’s suspended. I’m sure that there’s some, um, some meaning to that. Looking at the short description that comes with any piece of work, going by the title itself, will already give an indication. But to actually ask what it means, that’s for each one of us to interpret.


On Drawing Machine, 2006:
Do you know what it is?
Well it can be many things; it’s um, a simple device, for making circular shapes.
That’s true.
It’s also adjustable. And it seems to emulate a clock.
It is a clock mum!
Oh! Heeheehee.
Heeheehee, you like that?


On having an artist child:
So how do feel about having an artist as your child?
A pleasant surprise…
Oh, why is that?
…And it continues to be a surprise.
It doesn’t require a whole lot of understanding, or sacrifice as a parent. We just go along with what you’re doing.
[Both laugh]


On Making Night, 2006:
The making of night itself is supposed to be very, very complex. So many things have to come together before it can happen. It was the simplicity of it that struck me most.
Is it a bit god-like, you think?
[Long pause] No.
Are you sure?
Yes, I’m sure.


On Mare Clausum (Closed Sea), 2006:
It may seem all over the place, but actually there’s a certain balance to it. And the multi levels and layers, there are so many ways of interpreting it. I don’t see it in that real sense of sailing. It’s just floating, lifting oneself, perhaps even dreaming, or daring to dream. When I actually saw it at the exhibition, it was quite astounding, the space that was taken up, and the effect was so immediate. You could straight away know that this work has something to do with spaciousness.

Veils

Like Caliph Haroun Al-Rashid
I walk the streets of my city
I go all places

In the dark alleyways
quickening heart, fear.

With my lover
a different woman entirely.

On Jalan Haji Taib
I look up a dirty flight of stairs
I am there
legs spread
eyes on the ceiling
being fucked.

At the Islamic Arts Museum
they hold an exhibition about women in Islam
I am there
skin tingling
pride trickling from an ancestral stream.
I could wear a tudung easily
and look good in it.

My mother is doing Tai Chi
pushing and pulling me
in the dim glow of dawn.

I walk into a bar
and focus all my allure
in one spot behind my shoulder blades
The gazes blaze
and elongate me:
I taste power.

When I go home my father
cooks me dinner
and lunch
and supper
in lieu of conversation.
I am my father's daughter.
He doesn't know all my names
but for love
you will submit
to the one you were given

Alone
I stare at this body:
fire today
coal tomorrow.
Set me in my grave
or even better
scatter me over the great sea
still burning hot;
but older.
Please, much older.

Oh the facetiousness of parents! The gall!

Me: Morning work, night work. Shit la. Grumblemumble. [gulps down dinner at lightning fast speed yet again before rushing to meeting]

Parent: Yeah, wat to do, you want like dat wat. Why don't you get a life. [emphasis mine]

Me: *Speechless* 0_O

Oops!

UPDATE: Sigh. 1:40am. The essay I'm writing has all the conviction of a peanut. Nay, smaller. Pine nut, then.

----

Do you find yourself inadvertently using this phrase?

'It is a question that poses many challenging questions...'

Can we say: Trying My Darnest To Fill Up Word Allowance in an Intelligent-sounding but Ultimately Vacuous Way?

The sea in the sky

In the evening
I lie on a newly paved road
in my country

The sky
is an upside down bowl
with a calm sea hung in it

Heat of the sun
held in the road
warms my back

I'm roasting naked
on a man-made river
heading to the mountains
leading to the cities
all the way home

I hug the road
as I've never before done
As it hugs the earth beneath
beaten down by the sun
which hangs in the sea
in the sky above me

As I wait for it to fall -
the sea that will take me nowhere
because it is home,

I wonder
how did it get there?

If a curator goes shopping

... the label on me would read:

S______ C____
Age:2__ (still considered young in artist terms)
Identity: South East Asian, post-colonial
Status: Unknown-Emerging
Art: Site-specific new-media performative conceptual
Level of polity in work: Medium
Bankability: Unpredictable
Physical attractiveness: Not great, not bad either. Ho hum.

Overall biennial suitability score: about 6.5 (artist needs biennial more than biennial needs artist)

PS. Kudos to 28th Sao Paolo Biennial for having the courage to interrogate its own system, goals and function in a more than token way. Fantastique!

Things that are Beyond Pressure

Montien Booma: Perfume Painting, 1997, 100cm diameter

Evenings go beyond the day
Karma goes beyond what you are experiencing now
Friendship goes beyond betrayal
Imagination goes beyond censorship
Art goes beyond anything
Humour goes beyond anger
Kindness goes beyond harshness
Breath goes beyond everything
Water goes around everything
Dawn goes beyond night

(for G.)

Review of Bangun - Abandon Project

**This review appeared in Off The Edge magazine, MAR2008 Issue 39
***Images from Kakiseni.com



Since forming in early 2004, artist collective Lost Generation has produced projects that genuinely posit alternatives in Malaysian art discourse. ‘Alternatives’ not only as in opposition to a constructed (imagined) mainstream, but also in a generative sense that enlarges the debate for us all, especially regarding the role of independent art practice.

Their latest project Bangun is no exception. Held over three evenings in February, it was a site-specific event featuring 25 international and local artists. The site was a sprawling complex of three vacant buildings next to Lost Generation Space, a bungalow in Robson Heights that the collective rents and operates as an art space.

In an article on kakiseni.com, writer Zedeck Siew observes that ‘Lost Generation Space’s contribution was that they provided us with an excuse to explore this [abandoned] space’.¹ It is true that in a project like this, art cannot be seen independently from the context it has consciously inserted itself in. In Bangun, the former is indeed overshadowed by the latter.

Rather than critique the works individually, it may be more useful to use them as a lens through which to focus a discussion on abandoned buildings, and how they affect the way we understand and live in the city. To do this, I’d also like to refer to two texts. The first, Terrain Vague by architect and critic Ignasi de Sola-Morales Rubio²; the second, Ghosts in the City by Michel de Certeau.³

NOTICING
Bangun isn’t the first project to deal locally with the subject of abandoned buildings. From 2000 to 2003, Simryn Gill traveled the country photographing empty apartments, incomplete projects and mini ghost towns. The result was a collection of 116 images published as a book titled Standing Still. The images are as haunting and poignant as you imagine, but are also immensely, elusively beautiful. Similarly, many works in Bangun almost revel in the desolate aesthetics of the abandoned site. Ilham Fadhli Shaimy fills holes in the rotting floor with plaster from toy cement mixers. Dean Linguey frames little stalagmites formed by water dripping from a leaky ceiling with shards of found glass. Tan Wai Ding gathers broken electric fixtures and arranges them into a maze on the dusty floor. In the ultimate homage to ready-made beauty, Teh Leong Kwee simply places a makeshift frame over any picturesque surface – a mouldy bloom here, a stain on the wall there.



It is interesting how the sad dilapidation of this site been treated with nothing less than celebration and reverence. Note how LGS positions the event: ‘Bangun in Bahasa Malaysia means Wake up! Attention! In this project the artists are saying - Wake up and notice the abandonment of buildings (bangunan) in KL!” The word used here is ‘notice’, not ‘save’, or ‘halt’, leaving the motives of Bangun richly ambiguous and open to debate.

Why this attraction to the aesthetics of decay? Could it be that we do not in fact look at abandoned buildings in an entirely negative light? This is what Sola-Morales Rubio suggests in his essay Terrain Vague. He writes that these spaces are ‘places where the city is no longer’. They do not house anyone, they are not monitored, they do not produce anything – in short they are everything that the city isn’t, a ‘negative image’ of the city. Not negative as in ‘bad’, but more like the inverted mirror of our beloved and fragmented KL. This inversion produces a void or absence, which also represents possibility and potential – that of things happening differently than what we have been made to believe by those who chart the development of this country.

Walking through Bangun on a rainy evening, the whole place seemed porous – some corners letting in the rain and sun, holding both in rotting wood and plaster; other corners underground blanketed by an irredeemable silence and darkness. As Sola-Morales Rubio suggested, this porosity seemed to me ‘as much a critique as a possible alternative’ – to the steady proliferation of this or that jaya, to the highways and shopping malls and the whole sterile time-space grid of Malaysia Wasasan

REHABILITATION
While some artists let rotting chaos creep up and become part of their works, just as many seemed to devote energy towards caring for their space. Tobias Richardson’s hanging sculpture revolved silently in a little room the artist spent a substantial amount of time cleaning and repairing. Haley West did likewise to what appears to have been a former kitchen – wrapping up debris in plastic as ‘gifts’ for viewers to take away, as well as hanging golden tinsel off a creeper on the wall. Aliza Ayob planted bright pink plastic flowers on a piece of barren lawn.

These efforts may be seen as attempts at rehabilitation. But for what sake and for whom does this rehabilitation occur? Just as an abandoned building may not be seen in a completely negative way, so rehabilitation cannot be taken only to mean something good. To rehabilitate something is to not only love and care for that thing, it is to also change it irrevocably. Certeau writes that spaces like Bangun’s site do not only have a history, they ‘function as history’. ‘Ghosts in the city’, indeed. Like ghosts these spaces exist in the present, yet elude it. Like ghosts, what does it mean to take them and turn them once again into places for the living? How should we go about it?

Both Certeau and Sola-Morales Rubio agree that these ghosts should not be exorcised violently, but be placated with continuity. Why? Let us put it this way: why, if they cared so much about its disrepair, did the Bangun artists not invade the site like an army of ants and make it habitable again? Could it be from a barely grasped suspicion that to fully ‘rehabilitate’ (clean, clear, renovate, improve) the place would mean returning it once again to the homogeneity of the city – to the real estate market hungering for ‘heritage rich’ sites, to the empirical logic of progress and development?

Certeau: ‘Whatever framework in which this ‘salvational’ will is inscribed, it is true that restored buildings, mixed habitats belonging to several worlds, already deliver the city from its imprisonment in an imperialistic univocity. However enamel painted they may be, they maintain there the heterodoxies of the past. They safeguard an essential aspect of the city: its multiplicity.’

The value in Bangun lies not so much in a rallying cry to ‘save the buildings!’, but in calling attention to, and subsequently adding to this multiplicity of the city. It opens up many spaces – both physical and metaphoric – to questions, debate, thought, perhaps even action. This is how art acts.

Bangun – Abandon Project, 1 – 3 Feb. Produced by Lost Generation Space. For more information: www.lostgenspace.wordpress.com

1. Zedeck Siew, Houses on the Hill, 2 Feb 2008
2. Ignasi de Sola Morales Rubio, Terrain Vague, Anyplace, ed. C.Davidson, MIT Press, Cambridge Mass, 1995, pp118-123
3. Michel de Certeau, Ghosts in the City, The Practices of Everyday Life Vol2, Uni of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1998 pp133-143

Tibet II

Interesting how China, the world's growing superpower, seems equally as intent as the USA has been on murdering language.

Yu Heping, spokesperson for the Chinese office of public security says: “In Tibet and surrounding regions, armed groups are preparing themselves to battle for independence. These, at the instigation of the Dalai Lama, intend to use suicide bombers to carry out their attacks and destroy our nation’s social harmony”.

So now the Dalai Lama, Nobel Peace Prize Laureate, is instigating suicide bombing attacks. Note in the above short statement: 'armed', 'battle', 'instigation', 'attacks', 'destroy', 'suicide bombers'. Make no mistake, this is the slow churning of language against reality - like water against rock. Already the world will begin to see the rock as something that it isn't. Suddenly the Dalai Lama is a terrorist. But worse, far worse, is when the rock begins to believe itself to be something it isn't - that's when it changes shape. That's when a peaceful, pacifist people strap explosives to their bodies and walk into crowds.

John Berger: 'it takes about six half-truths to make a lie.' That's on our side of the wall, I guess. What happens on the other side of the wall (the side of Superpower) is inversion: 'it takes about six half-lies to make a truth'.

I have heard the Dalai Lama speak. Every word sounded like a clear bell in troubling times. I have no doubt he knows the way - he will wait, or act, or speak, with his customary wisdom and compassion. Superpowers believe in the politics of profit and power - they will attempt to divide, in order to rule. They set the limits of power and room to move. But in the politics of truth, there is no need for division between religious doctrine and political will. To resist Superpower, we must become water, not rock.

Today, when you're feeling stressed, remember the Dalai Lama's pragmatic advice: "Try to slow down, breathe in happiness, and breathe out suffering".

Does that sound like someone who instigates suicide bombers to you?

Maturin the label

Sigh, this blog is becoming the repository of all the things I really want to do. But sk'rang, mana ada masa? And headspace? Furgeddaboutit.

My label, my little baby that I'm nursing, is 'Maturin'. The few moments in the day not taken up with work or worrying about work is spent designing (mostly in my head) a line of limited edition bags. There will be one unisex shoulder/messenger bag, one women's shoulder bag, 2 clutches, one soft purse and one wrist-strap purse for when you go out but don't have any pockets (we've all been there, eh girls?). I have little sketches on bits of paper everywhere, and I find I tune out of less-than-scintillating conversation to continue my idle constructions, which have spilled out to an even more limited edition clothing collection - a short skirt, a t-shirt dress, a dress, a shirt and a t-shirt. The dresses have hoods on them. I like hoods because they protect and look pretty fly. The bags are all plain cream canvas on the outside, and lined with highest quality navy blue satin. Topstitching, pin-tucks, piping will feature heavily. Also handmade ceramic buttons, dice hanging from zippers, knots and braided rope for the handles. A 5-piece line of jewelery consisting of ceramic knots joined with braided silk rounds out Betta Sim for Maturin's first collection called 'Galapagos'! Secret evening launch party by the seaside - only dorks and geeks allowed, a certified un-cool event. Free-flowing rum. Best-dressed mermaid gets a Maturin dress for free! OMG. All 100 percent hand-made in Malaysia. No outsourcing to China! When when when? I know you want it too.

Second collection is 'Traveling Circus'.

Sigh. Someone get me a second life.