The blue lotus 8 by martin bradley

Lotus

Issue 8 Autumn 2017

The Blue

Arts Magazine

in this issue Shehan Madawela Foo Kwee Horng Ganesh C Basu Reza Pratisca Hasibuan Chia Yu Chian Pinky Kumari Madawela MV Renju 1

Lotus The Blue

Arts Magazine

The Blue Lotus remains a wholly independent magazine, free from favour and faction.

The Blue Lotus Arts Magazine is an entirely free and non-associated publication concerned with bringing Asia to the world, and the world to Asia

Autumn 2017

Front cover: To Stitch Up by Chia Yu Chian

inside.... 6 Editorial Thoughts on the current issue

by the Founding Editor

Shehan Madawela Rice

22 Colourful Language An essay by Martin Bradley

34 Fresh Cambodian Surrealism Surrealism from Siem Reap

44 Bujang Valley Ancient candi at Bujang Valley, Malaysia

58 Foo Kwee Horng Fish Upon a Memory

68 The Art of Madness Eva Wong Nava on Yayoi Kusama 86 Pau Chinese buns, an exploration

96 Ganesh C Basu Paintings 106 Reza Pratisca Hasibuan Indonesian paintings

110 Chia Yu Chian Pipe Dreams

122 Pinky Kumari Madawela Paintings from India

132 Cambodia Prose Poem by Martin Bradley

146 MV Renju Digital paintings

160 Tastes of Malaysia An introduction to the diversity of Malaysian cuisine

Lotus The Blue

Arts Magazine

Welcome to

The Blue Lotus Arts Magazine.

September marks the end of Summer. The days begin to change, and with it our thoughts. This fresh issue of The Blue Lotus reveals spiritual paintings from India, Pop Art from Japan, fish from Singapore and Surrealism from Cambodia. There are Amazing digital paintings from a young Indian painter living in the Middle East, and paintings from one of Malaysia's masters, as well as buns from the Chinese diaspora and an insight into Malaysian food. The Blue Lotus is a platform for international cooperation, aiming to bring creative Asia to the world, and the creative world to Asia. Now read on

Martin Bradley (Founding Editor)

Shehan Madawela rice

There is an underlying eroticism in the works of the Sri Lankan artist Shehan Madawela, who hails from a Buddhist/Anglican family. Subconscious lingams (phalluses) arise in the guise of rice seeds. Yonis (pudenda) appear, disguised as bowls for rice or as triangles. Sexual symbolism abounds in Madawela’s most prominent series, the Rice series. In these works, Madawela ‘talks’ of the overcoming of desire (kāma) born of nutrition or of reproduction. Rice, symbol of Lakshmi, a staple food, the colour and symbol of eternity and continuance, a seed of modified grass, symbolic both of the progenitor of seed (the phallus or lingam) and of man’s seed, vital for the growth of species. The blue rice bowl is indicative of Rama/Krishna, of protection and the 8

universe, but also becomes seen as the symbol of the receptacle of manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s seed (sperm), as woman, necessary for rebirth. The reverse highlights the need for material, as well as metaphorical, sustenance, the physical need for food. The symbol for which becomes rice, of which India once had over 400,000 varieties in the Vedic period. As if we were in doubt of the significance of the imagery, Madawela litters his works with human figures, women with transparent, revealing, tops, showing their femininity. Occasionally, strategically placed green leaves are present to shelter a post-Eden modesty. The metaphors are mixed, as is the Indian religious persona. In a country where all the major religions abound, families frequently have mixed religious backgrounds, 9

Buddhist, Christian, Hindu, Muslim and others. This religious fusion shines through in Madawelaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s works. Paintings such as Maha Shiva Ratri (mixed media on canvas), present the more overt Indian religious nature of the Lingam/Yoni duality. In this painting, there is no room for doubt of the Shaivite connection, A prominent lingam protrudes from the folds of a yoni. A (rice) seed rises to an ovum/moon. The background coloured red/brown, deep terracotta, talks not just of the earth but of that passion of procreation, the vital energy necessary for the process. Madawela explains that 'the rice series started as a result of seeing development take over farmland at an amazing pace in india, and where staples like the precious rice grain (which feeds most of the world), and is a farmers way of life, were exchanged readily for money where Â real estate giants made a killing and where a way of life that has been around for centuries, came to an abrupt end....This is a precious grain which needs to be glorified and given its due respect for what it has given to mankind for its sustenance in the past, at the present and in the future.......'

colo rful by Martin A Bradley

"Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore”1 Firstly I would like it firmly understood that I do not believe that there was ever a warship, aircraft carrier or gunship belonging to the US Navy parked off the coast of Singapore ready to invade Malaysia back in the wild days of 1998, as some prominent film and media people would have us believe. That there was a warship, of sorts, off Singapore’s coast I have no doubt, as these things do tend to happen with islands. But as to its intention, we can only but guess. Maybe it had recently broken off from a fuller convoy of ships, also bent on world domination through cultural guerrilla warfare, and sat there chock full of American merchandise, with holds full of soft fluffy Mickey Mouses (Mickey Mice?), other holds full of Donald Ducks, and yet more holds crammed floor to ceiling with Transformers’ battery-operated toys for men and boys, or even women. Maybe, if I can continue to pull your minds in this direction, there was a captain going under the name of Ahab standing proud on his foredeck, not unlike Arnold Schwarzenegger himself, bedecked with a tight-fitting spandex Batman t-shirt, wearing a Jonas Brothers baseball cap and constantly referring to his Garfield watch, tapping the glass as the second hand appears to have stopped. He stands guard over his vessel stuffed to the bulwarks with North American merchandise, poised to engage the final advertising campaign to win over the disbelievers of Malaysia and its surrounds – incidentally inciting those integrated peoples to forever dispense with their own cultures and firmly adhere to all that America holds dear, chewing gum and all – maybe. In the very same vein I doubt that there is, was, or ever would be a team, party or senate sub-committee ensconced within the not very White House, on Capitol Hill, Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America especially chosen to consider the question of how best to engage Malaysia and subsume nasi lemak into American culture. For me, and the purpose of this diatribe, there cannot be any question of secret CIA plots dedicated to the linguistic overthrow of the Malay Peninsula, and the outlying states, no agents, secret or otherwise, no dedicated sects or individuals whose sole purpose it could be to inculcate the world, but especially Malaysia, with the youth-oriented American sweet caffeinated soft drink culture. Having firmly busted that particular Hantu, it is incumbent upon me to tell you just what this piece is all about. It’s about you. No, not you – you, 1 The Wizard of Oz, MGM, 1939

language

the reader, now don’t duck down behind that Superman graphic novel, it’s you I am writing to, you reading this, you the American Idle wannabe, you who swills American carbonated caffeine and insists on spelling colour without the ‘u’. You the wearer of baseball caps in the country whose main sport has been sepak raga since time immemorial. You who insist on referring to mates as ‘man’ and think smoking Marlboro’s is cool, who happily pay RM 10 plus for a cappufrappumochalatta coffee to sit in the American franchised coffee store, when you could be drinking kopi at a kedai kopi for RM1.20, or pay RM11.90 for chicken with rice cooked in a pseudo African Portuguese fashion, when nasi ayam is RM4. Yes you who think that being seen wearing Levi’s jeans eating a McBlubber burger makes you more Western. Go figure, as they say.

“I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take anymore”2 Advertisements in magazines, in newspapers, on television, on satellite, on the radio, on the cinema screen, and on the internet all scream at their Malaysian audience, want, want, want, need, need, need, more, more, more. But more specifically want me, need me, and want and need more of me, never have enough always want more, but more of me. The advertisements conjure illusions of better lives, healthier lifestyles, smiles in a world where you, the purchaser of my product, will be like me - American, Western, happy, healthy, modern, exclusive and free. And it has been going on in Malaysia for at least half a century. From P.Ramlee’s western style dressing to Lat’s emulation of Elvis Presley’s hairstyle and drain-pipe trousers3 the insidious Americanisation of Malaysian culture had begun, now also witnessed in yellow school buses, first seen in America in 1939, and cheerleading, originating in America 1880. Young girls clasp Barbie dolls to their chests and drink their CocaCola , young boys might play with their Batman doll, because it’s more macho, as older brothers pull on their ‘Punk is not dead” T-shirts worn over their Levi's jeans while listening to Slipknot on their iPod. Later, grown to maturity, they will salute the Jalur Gemilang4 – the Malaysian version of the American ‘Stars and Stripes5, smoke their Marlboro cigarettes made by the British American Tobacco company and many will slip away and down a Carlesberg lager 6or a good old black and white Guiness Stout7 . They will head to the Mall, once there drink coffee at Starbucks because it’s chic to do so and to 2 Network, MGM, 1976 3 Lots of Lat, Berita Publishing Sdn.Bhd., 1977 4 Stripes of Glory 5 also called Old Glory 6 Danish 7 Irish

be seen there, go to a Cineplex, use their Visa card to enter and absorb the latest pap from Hollywood, have popcorn, eat at Kenny Rogers afterwards, buy an endearing trinket from the Disney store just a yard or so away, gaze, and maybe drool at latest DKNY offerings and then go buy a packet of fried, dried nothing wrapped in nice shiny plastic from the American-Japanese chain store 7 Eleven8 then home. These same people will use their laptop computers to access their Google9 or Hotmail10 accounts on the Internet11, maybe download an MP3 or MPEG-4 for their mobile phone, take in the latest cool adverts, maybe search on the American search engines, or access their Facebook to catch up on what’s in and what’s out. Maybe they will catch a pop video on YouTube, or a promo for the latest must-see. Somewhere down the line they will firmly believe they are Malaysians, because even though they were educated abroad, probably America or Britain, they are still Malaysian, aren’t they and what they do is Malaysian culture, isn’t it, and that America should stay out of Malaysian politics – and maybe it’s is a little too late.

“You talkin’ to me?”12 Before the insidious creeping of Americana into Malaysian culture, intellectuals here tussled with asserting Malaysian culture over the remnants of the colonial left from the days of the British. The poet Muhammad Haji Salleh, has been caught on the horns of his own particular cultural dilemma. Muhammad13 started writing his poetry, in English and Malay, while away studying in England for a year during the early 1960s. While he was away there was a slow creeping of American culture into Malaysia, so quiet and so slow that the change from English to American was hardly noticed. Now an eminent professor and Malaysian poet, Muhammad has always struggled between the twin horns of the British linguistic legacy and his desire to write in the language of his cultural forefathers – Malay. Many of Muhammad’s poems deal with his existential quest for identity and duality, such as those featured in his volume ‘Rowing Down Two Rivers’ from which the poem ‘this language’ comes.14 In the poem Muhammad expresses a clear idea of what he believes his language is, and what he believes it is not. Muhammad does not position his language in opposition to any specific other, yet an opposition seems implicit, but to what? English, perhaps? But is that English per se, British English or American English? So there you have it, a poet engaged in his quest for identity and self through a process which seemingly subverts remnants of colonialism. But hold on a minute, subverts remnants of colonialism, which coloniser? True the British were politely asked to leave, and eventually did so, round about 1957, it just took them a little time to think about it, 8 which originated in Dallas, Texas in 1946 9 all American 10 American 11 all American 12 Taxi Driver, Bill/Phillips,1976 13 Muhammad, incidentally, was born in 1942 in Temerlok, Perak, and was schooled under the colonial British 14 Muhammad Haji Salleh, Time’s Alphabet, pp19, Rowing Down Two Rivers, Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, 2000

to think about the fruits they may be missing, durian perhaps. And, yes ,they were colonisers of Malaya, later to become Malaysia, all true, but not all colonisers are blatant in their approach, as has been mentioned earlier. Generally colonisers don’t all come-a-knocking at your wee small door and ask permission to colonise –Excuse me Encik I’d like to take over your country for, oh let’s say, about two hundred years or so, then when I’ve finished asset stripping you can have it back, unless of course you have lots of oil – some do it in much subtler ways, some might say insidious, in fact that is what I did say, pay attention.

“You can’t handle the truth”15 The title, OK, yes, now the title – Colourful Language, the more astute among you will have already noticed the outline with the ‘u’ of the word colourful, no it wasn’t an error, I didn’t hit the wrong key by accident, it was done purposefully to get you all thinking about the word colourful and how it changes when I turn the ‘u’ to outline. Well the obvious answer is that it changes from the English spelling of the word colour to the American spelling, without the ‘u’. OK, so now why would I want to do that? Simply as a quick illustration of how easily the American language has insinuated itself into what most Malaysians think of as the English Language. Colour is not the only English word Americanised in Malaysia. You might often see the word ‘humour’ spelt ‘humor’, or ‘theatre’ as ‘theater’, ‘kilometre’ as ‘kilometer’, ‘tyre’ as ‘tire’ and ‘realise’ as ‘realize’." Those of you who write regularly using a ‘word processing’ programme will perhaps notice that the default for language is US English, not UK English. This comes about due to the fact that many of those programmes are American programmes, and when Malaysians write using those programmes, unchanged, they are spell-checked using American English, the end result being writing in American (US) English, often without the writer noticing - Sneaky eh! Muhammad Haji Salleh in the poem ‘this language’ appears to talk about the language of his forebears, Malay, when he mentions that the language is for poetry, that it’s melodious and is the language of love-making. Language and the function, meaning of language are very important to him. It is mentioned that for a time Muhammad Haji Salleh stopped writing poems in English altogether, to get closer to his Malay heritage. This is the power of language, it brings out the passion in people, so when a language is undermined by a language similar, but different, to it, it too has its effects. The power of words is such that they re-create culture. Muhammad, in another poem, ‘a heap of words,’16 reminds his readers that - ‘language constructs the/a? world, arranging itself and giving hints of experience’. We use language and identify ourselves through our use of language, we form sub-groups, cults, sects, and with them fresh nuances of language, different metaphors and meanings for simple terms, we identify through language and recognise through language, 15 A Few Good Men, Castle Rock Entertainment, 1992 16 Muhammad Haji Salleh, if or and then, pp33, Rowing Down Two Rivers, Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, 2000

create slang and with it identity. Language assists us in drawing others close, or separating ourselves off from them, we use language to form elites, legal language, technical language and the semi-mystical language of critical theory. Change the language and you start to change how we think, what we accept.

“What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate” 17 Muhammad Haji Salleh quests for identity, oscillating between his two languages–English and Malay – seeking identity, not in a crisisborn fashion, but methodically, albeit with passion. His country, this country, Malaysia too has sought to deliver itself from the wasteland of identity crisis, trying to escape the past but forever trapped, as a fly in amber, unable to locate its exit point. Often the search for identity is fruitless –endless questing to the West and to the East, do I belong here, do I belong there – sometimes identity, or pseudo- identity, finds the seeker instead, slips itself over like a glove, like Spiderman’s black nemesis Venom18, or Superman with red kryptonite, and changes the persona of the searcher. Language changes culture and American English leads us to believe that we have trash instead of rubbish, trucks instead of lorries, candy in the place of sweets, the Fall instead of Autumn, neither of which is experienced in Malaysia anyway. We now have diapers in the place of nappies, pants replacing trousers which are worn with sneakers, not trainers. Malaysians therefore might take a vacation instead of a holiday, in an apartment - not a flat, eating cookies instead of biscuits or chips replacing crisps or French Fries replacing our Chips. Maybe Malaysians would have take out instead of take away and watch soccer instead of football, use an eraser instead of a rubber (ouch) and a band-aid instead of plaster, and call the ref an asshole instead of an arsehole. There are marvellous American words which Malaysians now consider to be English such as condominium, elevator, backyard, department store, supermarket, smart card, automated teller machine (ATM), movie, hamburger, 24/7, teenager, freeway and wannabe -- have a nice day! When Malaysians are continually subjected to American English, not just through the written word but also through the airwaves – radio, through songs, MP3s, on their iPods, through television and film, they begin to believe what they are hearing is English, and not the gentle creeping of American English culture. If Paul Ricoeur19 is right and language lives through metaphor, then Malaysia begins to internalise American metaphors through being subjected to that language, of which there are many forms in Malaysia. A cruel mind might suggest tiny digested metaphors growing like worms, feeding off digested linguistic signs and symbols until, eventually they expand and take over the entire body, which then becomes wholly American, superficial, gun-toting, burger-eating and larger than life. 17 Cool Hand Luke, Jalem Productions, 1967 18 From its first appearance in Marvel Comics, Secret Wars No.8, 1984 19 Paul Ricoeur in Dialogues with Contemporary Continental Thinkers, Richard Kearney, Manchester University Press, 1984

Jacques Derrida20 suggests that we have to learn how to use language and tap into its web of meanings in order to communicate with others, and if the meanings and the language are American then does that presuppose that the communication becomes such? Malaysians begin to ape the language they have seen and heard, internalising then regurgitating it either as a Malaysianised creole language or mirroring what they have heard, in or out of context. To aid the viral spread of American English in Malaysia there are many young US English Language teachers teaching US English, using ‘English’ Language books produced in US. There are hundreds of American novels in stores like Kinokuniya, MPH and Borders, spreading the written American language, but few British. Multiplex cinemas show the latest American films, but few European and fewer British. Malaysian TV channels tend to now buy more bulk American TV series than they do British, a trend which has reversed in a decade or two, therefore more US English is heard spoken on TV, especially on Astro satellite channels, in films, in popular songs, radio etc. Malaysians have begun to accept American (US) English and assimilate it into their being without even being aware that it is American English and not British English, changing themselves and their culture in the process. With the American language come the concepts, notions and ideas perpetuated by that language, that is to say the unwitting internalising of American culture.

“May the Force be with you”21 That champion of the Malaysian intellectual cause Syed Hussein Alatas indicated that Malaysians need be aware of continuing to succumb to the concept of the captive mind – an unconscious, possibly subliminal, psychological dependence on ideas believed to be valid, correct or superior to those of their own culture; these ideas, notions and concepts stemming from the specifically Western, ideological colonising power – now the neo-colonists, the North Americans. Alatas suggested that the mental captivity was not necessarily intentional, or even known, but was a by-product of perceptions held by those who have since become named in post-colonial discourse as subalterns, the disempowered – the colonised. In a very similar way to the loving-the-captor Stockholm Syndrome, those disempowered peoples, in this scenario Malaysians, become enthralled with the power and command of their captors, and appear to psychologically ‘bond’ with their captors, the colonisers, or neo-colonisers. For Syed Hussein Alatas ‘The Captive Mind’22 refers to that state where those in power inculcate their ideology, their culture and their ways of thinking into the subject, captive or slave mind. Syed Hussein was instrumental in acknowledging that the post-colonial East was still in thrall to the West, and part of that raptness could be attributed to the concept of The Captive Mind. 20 Jacques Derrida in Dialogues with Contemporary Continental Thinkers, Richard Kearney, Manchester University Press, 1984 21 Star Wars, Lucasfilm, 1977 22 Syed Hussein Alatas, The Captive Mind Revisited, transcript from lecture at Multiversity Penang II Conference Redesign of Social Sciences Curricula, Penang, 2004

For Syed Hussein, the Captive Mind was a mind so beset with the colonial ideology, and colonial ways of thinking, that it was unable to break free, as if in a Mesmer. Alatas became influential in highlighting the extent in which post-colonial Malaysia was still intellectually captive to the West, and often cites endemic political thought as being captive and mimicking that of the West. I propose that it is not only the political thought but the popular culture too. Language is a vital part of that mental captivity. Language is at the very root of culture; make drastic changes in language and you start to affect the fundamentals of Malaysian culture.

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse”23 The new colonisers have not come with banner and musket, no regiments of exact looking soldiers marching in regimented ways, no butch-looking gung-ho leaders looking like a cross between Charlton Heston and Mel Gibson, no drum majors but yellow buses and cheerleaders, mom’s apple pie (Caution: Filling is hot!) and beloved carbonated caffeinated drinks. The new colonisers have come, like 'The Invasion of the Body Snatchers'24 for the Malaysian mind, not their hearts on a stick. The new colonisers are the young, dynamic free worlders hailing from the land of the free and home of the brave, so we are told.25 The new colonisers, for decades, have aggressively marketed and branded themselves as a young and vibrant community, forever young as the song goes. They may be the nation which coined the phrase ‘teenager’, but America’s demographic reality is that the highest percentage of all Americans, in America, were between 35-44 years old during the 2000 census and the projection for the 2007 census is for the 45-54 age group to be the highest percentage of all Americans, living in America. Americans may think themselves forever youthful and dream of “The Fountain of Youth”, but even Orson Wells gave up on that idea in 195626. Americana has spread throughout the globe since the Second World War 1939 – 1945, as have the Americans. But even before then, in the late 1800s, American cartoons, particularly from papers like Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World, had spread out as far as Japan and began to influence the political cartoons there. During the Second World War American comic books were sent out to the American soldiers, at the front, in ‘care packages’, their text and imagery blatantly anti Nazi and anti-Japanese.27 From the late 1940s onwards, a more insidious content to Disney’s Donald Duck comics, many by Carl Barks, helped spread the American view of the world via the money grabbing Uncle Scrooge. Scrooge, Donald and his three nephews managed to have views on everything from the Korean War, fighting communism, the Cuban crisis and even Cambodia and Vietnam in the story ‘Monkey Business’, (in Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories, June 1965)28. 23 The Godfather, Paramount Pictures, 1972 24 The Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Walter Wanger Productions, 1956 25 The Star Spangled Banner, American National Anthem, Francis Scott Key, 1814 26 Pilot for a TV series The Fountain of Youth, produced and directed by Orson Wells, 1956 27 Manga, Manga, The World of Japanese Comics, Frederik L.Schodt, Kodansha International, Tokyo, 1983. 28 Dispossession by Ducks: The Imperialist Treasure Hunt in Southeast Asia’, by David Kunzle in Art Journal, No. 49, Summer 1990

DC Comics and the Marvel stable helped spread the news that Americans are superheroes who can and will battle evil wherever it is found, even if the evil is of their own perception. More recently, in June 2008, Chick Publications, the American producers of Christian comic books sent out several thousand of their comic books to Iraq, in English and in Arabic; it has been claimed that these were later handed out to Muslim Iraqis. No mention of comic books, or indeed cultural icons would be complete without a mention of Superman, that all-American cultural icon, created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster in 1932. Born on Krypton and sent to earth as the planet exploded, a metaphor for all those immigrants to America, was created, foreign boy made good: you too can be an all-American hero. Kal-El (Superman) was raised by a Kansas farmer and wife, Jonathan and Martha Kent, thereby taken in and nurtured by America with its strong morals, beliefs and a determination to ensure a just and righteous world, from the American perspective of course. In 1953 The Adventures of Superman TV series starring George Reeves tells the viewing public that Superman 'fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American Way'.

“The stuff that dreams are made of ” 29 There are plentiful sources of American comic books and graphic novels in Malaysia, prospering the American language, American brand image and promoting American culture. But comic books aside, there are many other major Americana brand promoters in Malaysia –Pizza Hut, Kenny Rogers, Borders, Nike, Wrangler, Hush Puppies, DKNY, Tiffany, KFC, as well as the iniquitous burger franchises Burger King and McDonald’s et al. Language comes to us in subtle ways, through the various forms of advertising and promotion, especially through slogans which house more than mere words. ‘I’m lovin’ it’, well, perhaps not. McDonald’s is particularly aggressive in its marketing, so much so that in 1978 it sought to take a small time British comic- book (2000 AD) to court, because it dared to mock Ronald McDonald.30 In Prog 71 Cursed Earth chapter 11 entitled Battle of the Burger Barons, one panel (art by Mike Mahon, written by T.B.Grover) shows Ronald McDonald shouting “SHOW THEM BURGER KING CREEPS THE GARBAGE PAIL!” In Prog 72 Cursed Earth chapter 12 Judge Dredd thinks “With the government destroyed in the atomic war, the hamburger chains have grown so powerful, they’ve taken over. The people worship them.” In the next panel Ronald McDonald is saying “Ah have a dream, ma friends – a dream where ah see every square inch of this fair land covered by one bigg mMcdDonalds’s burger bar!” These words were strong enough to send McDonald’s running for its solicitors to ban these issues from ever being re-printed. Ironically one of the McDonald’s slogans the next year (1979) was ‘Nobody can do it like McDonald’s can’. If the ‘can do’ means silence dissident voices then yes, it’s true, seemingly nobody can. Such, obviously, is the power of comics that even huge multi-national companies must worry about the 29 The Maltese Falcon, Warner Brothers Pictures, 1941 30 'Judge Dredd’ article by Mark Oliver, Guardian.co.uk March 05, 2002

wrong word in the wrong place, to protect their own message. On the other hand, and with much irony, in 1996 the British comic Viz threatened McDonald’s with court action over material they said McDonald’s had plagiarised from its Top Tips, calling them ‘Money Saving Tips’.31 Some of McDonald’s ‘tips’ were almost word for word those appearing in Viz, such as... “Save money on expensive binoculars, stand closer to the thing that you are looking at then it will seem bigger” (McDonald’s) “Don’t waste money buying expensive binoculars, Simply stand closer to the object you wish to view” (Viz). “Save a fortune on laundry bills. Give your dirty shirts to a second- hand shop. They’ll wash and iron them and then you can buy them back for 50p.” (McDonald’s)" “Save money on your laundry bills, Give your dirty shirts to Oxfam, They will wash and iron them and you can buy them back for fifty pence” (Viz)." McDonald’s settled out of court. As another of their slogans says ‘Nobody Makes Your Day Like McDonald’s Can’ (1981)." The first Malaysian McDonald’s opened for customers in Kuala Lumpur in 1982; at the time of writing they currently have 172 outlets across Malaysia. Maybe the comic 2000 AD was right in its concerns. Apart from burgers there are few brands more globally recognisable than the all-American Coca Cola, or its short term derivative ‘Coke’. Even here, where I sit, in a small ulu town two hours to the north of Kuala Lumpur, I can walk to the small unassuming corner shop and have a choice of Vanilla Coke or original recipe Coca- Cola from the refrigeration unit standing in the shop - supplied by the Coca-Cola company and decorated with large images advertising Coca Cola products. From the simple “Drink Coca-Cola” slogan in 1886 to the 1937 “America’s Favourite Moment” and forward to the 2006 “The Coke Side of Life” Coca-Cola has always been acutely aware of the power of the right combination of words in its advertising campaigns. Not only words but an awareness of Coca-Cola’s general image too. In an aggressive marketing campaign Coca-Cola persuaded several American schools to promote their products. One school held a “Team Up with CocaCola Day”. This led to a 19-year old high school pupil, Mike Cameron, from Evans, Georgia, to be suspended for wearing his Pepsi T-shirt on that day, in 1998. The message – the school seen to be promoting the right carbonated drink surely holds precedence over a child’s education. Coca-Cola was introduced to Malaya in 1936. Coca-Cola company’s international profits for 2005 was $15 Billion, so go on ”live on the coke side of life” despite the fact that not only is there no coke in Coca-Cola but no kola either these days. 31 ‘Viz’ Challenges McDonald’s over TV money tips, David Lister, The Independent 12 September 1996

Eating McDonald’s burgers and drinking Coca-Cola which comes free with the “Happy Meal” might make the average middle-class Malaysian think they look cool, but what is really needed to set the trend and demonstrate to the world just how Western you really are is a pair, or indeed many pairs, of Levi’s Jeans, no problem, there are stores right across Malaysia. The influential international market research company Synovate has indicated that Levi’s is not just the most popular brand of jeans in Malaysia but globally, and is seen as ‘the’ authentic US jeans brand. This is after a survey of 7,700 people across the world. A reputation Levi Strauss has fought hard to maintain, including various battles it has had with retailers to ensure the high price of its products, and in particular the Levi 501 jeans, culminating in suing the Tesco chain for selling their jeans cut price in the UK (2001). Tesco won in the European Court of Justice."

“Hasta la vista, baby”32 So there you have it, the gradual erosion of Malaysian (popular) culture, beset and bombarded as it is by the energetic, youth-orientated, ‘modern’ American culture, full of tempting goodies to be had in a world increasing capitalistic and materialistic too. Why does Malaysia emulate America, why is the culture so attractive? Because it panders to the lowest common denominator, vanity. Chicness, stylishness, a la mode is in, perpetually, in this new designer led world of the young, or young at heart, and young at heart is something that America does well. Merchandising, advertising, promotion are there to persuade people to buy, buy, buy until it’s bye bye. America has the bucks, the cash, dosh, bling to put behind global campaigns to reap even larger rewards, in a sense it has to be successful in its persuasion, its branding, not just of the products, but of America PLC otherwise the huge illusion will be seen for what it is. So it is ever forward, more Disney, more Levi’s, more McDonald’s, more Barbie, more spinning of the web of wonder and deceit. Because the glamour is not orchestrated, not engineered by one party, or a team, group or committee it is difficult to shut down, hard to stop the overbearing tsunami of American materialism when it has already gathered its power to crush all in its path. It started with language and has ended by outright neo-colonialism, but unless there is some sort of opposition Malaysian culture may be swamped entirely and at the end of the day Malaysia doesn’t want to say to itself “I could have been a contender, I could have been somebody’’33 but rather “Made it, Ma, Top of the world!”,34 but, on the other hand if this is what people really want in Malaysia then “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn”35.

32 Terminator 2: Judgement Day, Canal+, 1991 33 On the Waterfront, Horizon Pictures, 1954 Previously published in New 34 White Heat, Warner Brothers Pictures, 1949 Malaysian Essays 2, Matahari Books, 2009 35 Gone with the Wind, Selznick International Pictures, 1939

Fresh Cambodian Surrealism It’s fresh, it’s surreal and it’s Cambodian. While northern Cambodian (Khmer) artist Oeur Sokuntevy (from Battambang), who studied at the free art school and circus training ground of Phare Ponleu Selpak, has become known, internationally, for her surrealistic works, she is not the only Cambodian artist whose works have taken on a surreal twist. In Siem Reap, a town known for its closeness to the world renown Angkor Wat, a small art school (of some thirteen years standing), sits quietly on a small road which leads from the rumbustious Pub Street down to the Old Market. During its occupancy, Colors of Cambodia (whose motto is Art Will Save the World) has constantly given free art lessons to thousands of students, some within the gallery, others at local schools. Over time, and perhaps on constantly seeing their American founder’s Bill Gentry’s surrealist paintings hanging from the walls, the students and teachers at Colors of Cambodia have begun producing some most remarkable Cambodian surrealist paintings. The craftsmanship and sense of imagination of those works naturally challenge Oeur Sokuntevy, and her position as Cambodia’s number one surrealist artist. More so since she has forsaken Cambodia for Berlin, while they remain in situ, continuing to absorb and reflect Cambodia back to itself and forward to the world. These vibrant surreal artworks range from magnificent painterly organics, swirling in stunning colour formations, melding, shaping and reshaping in constant biological movement, hinting at paintings by Desmond Morris, Miro or Yves Tanguy. Other images reflect transfigured Cambodian imagery of apsaras, Budhisattvas or Buddhas, rendered with the vigor of youth. Some works contrast flatness with depth, traditional imagery with new organic forms. The artists’ proximity to Angkor and its Wats, fuel their creations with ancient spirituality, while simultaneously allowing them the freedom to seek their own paths of creativity through modernism. 32

Like and love - Phany Phanin Futago 33

The Way That You Choose - Sophanin Sor 35

Reality Life - Sophanin Sor

Life in Darkness - Sophanin Sor 38

Angkor Wat - Lim Vuthy 39

Black Secret - Sophanin Sor

Buddha Calm - Thy Channarak

Surrealistic Cosmos - Hoeung Sok Oun

Let There Be Calm - Narath 46

The Calling - Seak Ly 47

Because we had not reached to You - Phany Phanin Futago

Undoubtedly, three Khmer artists lead this exciting field. They are Sopanin Sor, Phany Phanin Futago and Hoeung Sok Oun. They are very closely followed by the works of Lim Vuthy, Thy Channarak, Seak Ly Hong, and Narath, who seem to grow in strength daily. The works of these young artists are much sought after, chiefly due to their distinction from the mass-produced tourist works plied around Siem Reap town. Visitors from as far as Australia and America come to buy the real deal, these fresh Cambodian creations, devised by young Cambodians earnest about their art, and their country. Their artworks speak of new beginnings, while concurrently honouring an illustrious ancient past.

Water Lily - Phany Phanin Futago

Bujang

g Valley On a hot Tuesday in May, my wife (the Malaysian artist Honey Khor) and I drove the four hours to reach her home town, Bukit Mertajam, a quiet backwater on the mainland of Penang State. The following day we ventured further North and West, into the next state -Kedah, known for its flatness, rice paddies and a range of romantic, misty topped, mountains. The foothills of one ancient, mystic, and sacred mountain was our destination. Gunung Jerai. Frequently called Mount Jerai or Kedah Peak. We were hoping to find relics of a once thriving international port community, within the ancient Bujang Valley. Our destination was Merbok, and the Bujang Valley Archaeology Museum, repository of most things relating to the ancient history of the area. It was Ramadan. The Muslim fasting month but, coincidently, also the Chinese harvest festival time, called Duan Wu Jie or the Chinese Dragon Boat Festival. As it was 53

so far from any major town, the area around the Bujang Valley site was pleasantly quiet, serene even. According to V. Nadarajan (and his book Bujang Valley: The Wonder that was Ancient Kedah), that site was reputed to house remnants of the ancient Hindu and Buddhist civilisations in the country which predated both Malaysia, and Malaya. It was a time before the country's religion had changed, before the British colonisation and before the country's unification. Unlike the nearby ancient temples of Angkor, in Cambodia, and Borobudur and Prabanan on Java, Indonesia, the scant remains of temples in the Bujang Valley had all been removed from their original sites to form an archaeological museum. The day was quiet, save only for the sound of equatorial birds, insects and a shallow inclined waterfall. The latter seductively whispered under the balmy weather 54

of the museum surrounds. Tall trees had cast mottled shadows, giving weary wanderers shade as the sun inevitably glided towards midday. I sat in a purpose-built, brown and magnolia, concrete shelter, sheltered from the worse excesses of the Sun. House Martins flew in and out feeding hungry chicks in their mud built nest. A small green lizard tasted the air, soon to be joined by another, catching insects from the freshly mown grass. Behind a rock wall, near the chicken wire fencing which marked the site's boundary, banana trees softly waved their fronds in a cooling breeze. Dragonflies darted hither thither, with the occasional large yellow equatorial butterfly passing. The setting was almost idyllic, save for the nagging understanding that the candis (temples) had been removed from their original settings, therefore breaking whatever spiritual link 57

to antiquity there may, previously, have been. We had been drawn to Bujang because of those ancient links. We were curious about this last remaining indication of a Hindu/ Buddhist heritage for Malaysia, built some four centuries before the country's conversion to Middle Eastern religion. Once, there may have been many such temples across what is now northern Malaysia. Most have disappeared over the aeons. Their unique narratives disappearing along with them. 58

one woman

Every so often a book appears that reveals and illuminates a project that might otherwise remain largely unknown by the outside world: â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Colors of Cambodiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; is such a book. This is a highly personal and passionate account written by Martin Bradley and illustrated by Pei Yeou Bradley of her encounter with a remarkable art-based project in and around Siem Reap in Cambodia, and how she was drawn into practical involvement with the children for whom the project exists. The book shows how a small NGO run by William Gentry in Siem Reap has been able to reach out to children in local schools, some in areas of great poverty, through the medium of art, and to give them hope for the future in a country that has suffered so much. The children and their families who are drawn into the project prove how art can cross all borders of language and culture. The book also tells of how Malaysian children and their parents have been encouraged to support the project and to become involved with the children and their work.

This is a highly personal and passionate account written by Martin B remarkable art-based project in and around Siem Reap in Cambodia, for whom the 62

nâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journey

And there is the additional touch of magic as Pei Yeou and Martin tell of their meeting and of how he too was drawn into the story, and contributes to it, and of how it changed his life. His sensitive words and poetry add another colour to this unique book In a world in which the news is bad more often than not, this inspirational book tells a story of optimism and success, and of how dreams can become true. Richard Noyce, Artist and Writer, Wales, July 2012

contact honeykhor@gmail.com martinabradley@gmail.com

Bradley and illustrated by Pei Yeou Bradley of her encounter with a , and how she was drawn into practical involvement with the children project exists. 63

Foo Kwee Horng

fish upon a memory

Pacific Saury (Sanma)

Foo Kwee Horng received his initial art tutelage in junior college, Singapore. While at university training as a social worker, he continued to practise watercolours on his own. In 1995, he became one of the youngest artists to join the Singapore Watercolour Society at that time, and realised his aspiration to become an art teacher a year later. 1999 was a good year for him - his works were exhibited at the UOB Painting of the Year exhibition and the Philip Morris Singapore Art Awards. Fooâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s interest in local art history enabled him to be enrolled in an M.A. programme, researching the history of woodcuts and cartoons in pre-war Singapore.Â In 2010, Foo left the teaching profession to concentrate on his artistic practice which he felt he had neglected. After selling all his works at the 2011 Affordable Art Fair, followed by more sales during New Year Goodies at Ion Art in 2012, Foo felt very encouraged. His solo exhibition, A Nation of Shopkeepers coincided with Singapore National Day, and was virtually sold-out, as reported by the Straits Times. 64

Obtuse Barracuda

While an avid watercolourist, Foo has become adept at oil painting. This (latest) series of paintings attest to his ability to paint in the classical manner, adapting the style to suit a modern Singaporean environment. Singapore is an island. Foo’s exhibition - Fish upon a Memory reflects the island nature of this modern metropolis, with cadences of its Chinese heritage still echoing and hints of Singapore’s ‘Nangyang’ notion of East/ West fusion in the arts. Besides painting, Foo now spends his time part-time teaching to children with special needs, the elderly and students of mainstream schools. Other than art and art teaching, Foo is most happy cooking for his wife and two daughters, tending to his garden and engaging in DIY at home. 65

Red Sea bream

Golden pomfret

White-spotted rabbit fish

2 yellow banded scad

Yellow tail scad

Yellow tail fusilier

Threadfin bream

Chinese silver pomfret

The Art of Madness by Eva Wong Nava

The National Gallery Singapore’s latest exhibition entitled ‘Life is the Heart of a Rainbow’, showcases over 70 years of Yayoi Kusama’s oeuvre, curated by Russell Storer and Adele Tan, is an ambitious partnership with Queensland Art Gallery and Gallery of Modern Art. Ambitious because it is Kusama’s first Southeast Asian debut, ambitious because her work is risqué, replete with semi-erotic images or symbols suggesting vulvas and phalluses exhibited here in an ultra conservative country where only married couples can apply for government housing, where ‘supporting the freedom to love’ does not include the LGBT community according to ASSA (Advertising Standards Authority of Singapore) at least, and where Madonna’s 2016 ‘Rebel Heart’ concert was rated 18 for its sexual content: scantily clad pole dancing nuns created much furore amongst the (religious) conservatives. Lastly, it is ambitious for its retrospective narrative - 70 years of her practice. With such a long practice, selecting artworks would have been a colossal task. What works to pick in order to suit the exhibition's narrative, if there is a narrative at all? To cushion the public, Singaporeans included, from having to pay an entrance fee, there are pieces that have not been seen outside of Singapore yet. Entrance into the Gallery’s permanent exhibitions for Singaporeans and Permanent Residents is complimentary. The issue of charging a fee can be a sensitive one since many locals feel that Singapore museums should not be charging their residents entry fees. I was commissioned to write a review of the exhibition for another platform, a challenge I undertook voluntarily. As a writer who earns her pocket money through reviewing art and art exhibitions, I felt that reviewing Kusama would enable me to learn about another artist whom I know so little about apart from her preference for dots and the colour yellow. As a flash fiction writer, I am always interested in how art emotes me and inspires me to spin yarns, and for that matter, how art emotes its viewers in general. As a lifelong learner, I’m always up for any challenge that increases my knowledge and improves critical thinking. Yayoi Kusama was born in Japan in 1929. She hails from a conservative wealthy farming family from Matsumoto. Her childhood was fraught with tensions, her parents were constantly bickering and her father was renowned for his extra-marital affairs. Yayoi’s mother enlisted her help in spying on her husband’s amorous deeds which obliged the young 78

Narcissus Garden, 1966. [Â©YAYOI KUSAMA] photograph

Yayoi to become a voyeur of her father’s lovemaking with courtesans. In interrogating Yayoi’s art, we become privy to her psyche, a psyche that is replete with neuroses causing anxieties and obsessions. That she had a difficult childhood is unquestionable. That she comes from a dysfunctional family and society are evident. This is the background to her art. Hence, polka dots, phalli and nets wind up on canvases and sculptures. Kusama's images are powerful expressions of shock, pain and a form of obsessive compulsiveness. The actions of dotting, spotting, lining are repetitive acts underpinned by boredom, the boredom of living within societal expectations and constraints; the boredom of being female in a patriarchal environment. She is compulsively obsessive about self obliteration which is her way of working through those shocking scenes she had witnessed in childhood but at the same time, there is a narcissistic side to her character as viewers will determine from the video installations and photographs on display. In addition to personal trauma, Kusama grew up during the Second World War which saw Japan devastated by American atomic bombs. Psychological traumas have to be released whether passively or aggressively or in a combination of passivity and aggression. In passivity, the self suffers through enactments of punishment targeted at the corporeal in acts of aggression like starvation, self-mutilation or any actions taken to diminish the self in this world. In aggression, extended selves suffer from the unconscious targeting of hatred and anger at organised bodies of representation like a group of people or the family unit. It is difficult to place Kusama Art, the “genre” she prefers over Surrealism and Dada which critics have said she is influenced by. I emphasise genre with inverted commas because Kusama has stubbornly refused to be categorised. She is the epitome of Feminism born in the 1960s brash, loud and undefinable. This is a nod to woman worldwide who have refused and still refuse to be pigeon-holed. Kusama is difficult to categorise as art critics have ‘[…] little precedent for arguing a position in art criticism and history for an artist who is both inside and outside of the academic definition of a particular artistic movement or school.’ Has she fallen through the net? Or was it a purposeful attitude she has always carried within herself? Kusama Art is an art of madness, not for the faint hearted. There are pieces in the exhibition which will trigger claustrophobia, trypophobia, a visceral disgust with dot clusters, and phallophobia. To understand her works is to understand how neuroses can be worked through in enactment, in self expression and in narcissism. Kusama has called her art “psychosomatic art” which exacerbates the difficulty in categorising her. To say that Kusama is mad would be an understatement. The artist

has been living in a psychiatric hospital since 1977 where she voluntarily checked herself in, but whether she is clinically diagnosed with psychosis is another matter. She works daily in a studio nearby. Her practice is a form of (cathartic) performance. Alexandra Munroe who curated a retrospective of Yayoi Kusama for CICA (Centre for Contemporary Arts) in 1989 writes that Kusama is ‘eccentric’ and ‘obsessional’ with an ‘idiosyncratic’ style. Pumpkins, phalli, polka dots, stainless steel balls, these are her iconographies. One can have a Romantic idea of mental illness within society in relation to artists and creatives. It is perhaps society that is (mentally) ill rather than the artists. For a straight-laced society like Singapore where notions of madness are not as tolerated as they are in other parts of the world, how would Kusama Art be received here? The commercial side to art is the comforter to the discomfort behind authorial intentions, it can be argued. Owning merchandise of pumpkin prints and polka dotted mugs and umbrellas is a sign of the madness of consumption in our society. Kusama is not unaware of this side of art making, even in her state of madness. The National Gallery’s official merchandise store, Gallery & Co., is collaborating with Yayoi Kusama Inc and the Gallery’s curator’s and project managers on what products to promote. So far, Kusama merchandise have been selling out like hot cakes with a waiting list of consumers wanting ownership of the motifs that have earned Yayoi Kusama cult status. Is the consuming public aware of the deeper meaning of these motifs? Yayoi Kusama is ballsy about the art market. For someone ostensibly ‘outside’ of the art world, she inserts herself in it with much savvy. For example, during the 1966 Venice Biennale, she hawked her steel balls to passersby for US$2 each. Her explanation for this is her attempt to make art accessible to the public, especially the less wealthy. Of course, her performance attracted much controversy, the Italian police had to step in to stop her. One must credit her for her savoir-faire because fame is sometimes achieved through infamous acts courting controversy, attracted as most of the pubic are to stars and celebrities. The Gallery’s City Hall Chamber has been converted into a gallery for this exhibition. Here, the visitor is permitted to walk into a cavernous space transformed into a garden of 1,500 stainless steel balls. The installation entitled Narcissus Garden is a homage to wordplay and the self. The stainless steel balls reflect the viewers who participate in their own self obliteration by being immersed in a reflective pool of multiple selves. It is Kusama’s raison d’être to obliterate the self. This time, these steel balls are not for sale as art or merchandise. The art public is already participating in its own self obliteration by buying into Kusama Art through waiting lists and purchases of Kusama products, some even without having visited the exhibition.

Infinity Room Â©YAYOI KUSAMA, Courtesy of Ota Fine Arts, Tokyo/Singapore,Victoria Miro Gallery, London

As I meander the Singtel Special Exhibitions Gallery, I begin to feel an unnerving sense of uneasiness. A silver mannequin smothered with sponge like protrusions stands astride. I’m not allowed to photograph this spectacle. The mannequin looks as if she’s being consumed by a fatal skin disease. As I stared longer at this sculpture, I start to feel viscerally nauseated. There is madness in this brute piece. But Alexander Munroe puts it this way: The recurring motifs of interconnecting nets and proliferating phalluses are the projection of the artist’s delirious imagination upon mundane reality. These fantastic forms break out like a rash across the room, signs that the self has erupted. The conditions of the psyche— outrage, perversity, desire and love—are released. But Kusama is not simply notating her madness as it comes to her; she is inventing an art to channel and express it. What Kusama is working through is in reality her disgust and hatred of the patriarchal society in which she was raised. Her art is her way of fighting authority and the men in authority. The notions of existing and obliteration are tensions found within her works. Again, the sense of being within/without society is overwhelmingly present. Kusama’s way of controlling the world is expressed through a series of oil paintings depicting (in)famous women like Marilyn Monroe, Matahari and Elizabeth Taylor with a wire mesh netting caging these “bad girls” as Kusama calls them. Three of her caged women are on display at the Gallery and viewers will recognise her signature style of dots and net motifs. The double entendre underpinning these oil images would be missed if one had no knowledge of Kusama’s internal processes. Commentators have said that Kusama’s art cannot be disconnected from her psychosis. The women are all raring to be liberated from the wire mesh that imprisons them for “bad girls” must be contained. In a society like Singapore’s where citizens are ruled by laws left over from patriarchal Britain mixed with ethics espoused by Confucius, it would be interesting to know how a brainwashed people would react to Kusama Art. With such a famous character being the single artist on exhibition at the two year old Gallery, it is easy to forget the purpose for the Gallery to include this controversial artist into their list of exhibitions. So far, there have been two other international collaborations, the first being ‘Reframing Modernism’ with Centre Pompidou, Paris and the second with Tate Britain, titled ‘Artist and Empire’. I started off by saying that this collaboration is ambitious in nature and I will conclude by adding that with this single artist exposition, Singapore’s goal of being the art hub of Southeast Asia has been somewhat fulfilled. Singapore is the first country in Southeast Asia to bring Kusama Art to its shores and being first is always important in this leadership crazy country. There seems to be much governmental support for this exhibition too. Additionally, with Russell Storer, an Australian, being the point of contact with

Queensland, Singapore’s position as art hub of the region is secured. At this point of writing, there have been no complaints from the public of nudity. The Gallery has also put out signs with the usual polite warning of ‘potentially sensitive content, including nudity and sexual content’ by way of warning; it’s a legal requirement in Singapore. Theatre companies and performance artists have had a harder time convincing the government for permission to stage plays with ‘sensitive content, including nudity and sexual content’. Singaporeans will remember Josef Ng for his 1994 performance of ‘Brother Cane’ in which he bared his buttocks and snipped his pubic hair in protest of the 1992 anti-gay media coverage. Since this incident for which Ng was charged under Singapore’s Penal Code for an act of indecency, funding for performance art and forum theatre was withdrawn until 2004 when funding was permitted again, however, artists are asked to submit a script of their act or play to procure funding. It would be interesting to see how the public will respond to ‘Life is the Heart of a Rainbow' at a later stage. The exhibition opened on June 9 and will end 3 September, 2017. There is timed ticketing being put in place as large crowds are expected. So far, the weekend queues have been long but the Gallery has yet to reveal visitor figures. I wait and watch as the (potential) drama of Kusama Art enfolds.

Life is the Heart of a Rainbow, ©YAYOI KUSAMA, Courtesy of Ota Fine Arts, Tokyo/ Singapore,Victoria Miro Gallery, London, David Zwirner, New York

'What Kusama is working through is in reality her disgust and hatred of the patriarchal society in which she was raised. Her art is her way of fighting authority and the men in authority.' 86

Pumpkim Â©YAYOI KUSAMA, Courtesy of Ota Fine Arts, Tokyo/Singapore

pau

Much of what passes for Chinese bread, in Malaysia, is either ‘baozi’ (‘wrapping’, which is filled), or mantou (‘flour head’, unfilled). In Malaysia the term ‘pau', is used for the baozi Chinese, filled, bun, which is either steamed, or baked. Pau come in various sizes, with Dabao, the larger, and xiaobao, the smaller. Pau have a variety of fillings, varying from sweet – kaya (coconut jam), red bean paste, lotus paste, to the savoury – chicken curry, curried lamb and the non-halal char siew pau (pau with barbecue pork and sauce), and seemingly everything in-between. Chinese in Malaysia tend to eat pau for breakfast, whereas mantou (steamed or deep fried) can be eaten with various dishes to mop up sauce. Various origin stories abound, but one story, relating to baozi, begins with mantou. In the great Chinese literary work of the 14th century, Romance of the Three Kingdoms by Luo Guanzhong, it is suggested that mantou was invented by the Chinese General Zhuge Liang (181234 CE). The General was a military strategist, leading the Shu Army, in southern China. During the Three Kingdoms Period (220-280 AD), and after the downfall of the Han Dynasty rulers, the Chinese empire was is a state of disunity and Zhuge Liang’s army (from the north) was invading the state of Wu. Zhuge Liang and his army had come across a river too swift to cross. Previously, Chinese armies would have sacrificed men, tossing their heads into the river to appease river gods. Zhuge Liang wanted to avoid more human loss. Instead he decided to kill cows and horses, and used the meat inside buns shaped like human heads. The flat-based buns were thrown into the river and were later named mantou (“barbarian’s head.”) ‘“As the resentful demons are here because of the deaths of people, where is the sense in slaying more humans? But I know what to do.” Zhuge Liang bade them make balls of flour paste after the manner of human heads and stuff them with the flesh of oxen and goats. These would be used instead of human heads, and they called these 'mantou' or 'human heads'.” Excerpt From: Luo Guanzhong. “Romance of the Three Kingdoms (with footnotes and maps) chapter 91.” Lu Xun, one of China’s best known modern writers, makes many references to ‘mantou’ (a name which incorporates the Chinese ideogram for the human head) as a symbol for people, or ‘the people’, and uses his stories to highlight the creeping pace of modernism in China, at the time (1919). 88

Fresh Pau ready for steaming

In small towns all over Malaysia there are bakeries, devoted to making, and selling pau. Bukit Mertajam, in the state of Penang, is no exception. However, artisan pau are somewhat of a rarity, and yet the Ee Loong Delifood bakery creates no fewer than 30 different buns, some pau, some mantou, for the delight of their customers. At Ee Loong Delifood, pau and mantou may be bought with a variety of fillings or flavourings from BBQ Pork, to Tom Yam Chicken; Seng Kuang; Pickle Vegetable; Chinese Chives; Curry Potato; Cheese Potato; Custard; Pean and Kaya; Pineapple and Kaya; Butter Salted Egg Yolk; Big Pork; Small Pork; Salty Meat; Chicken Glutinous Rice; Kaya; Coconut; Red Bean; Yam; Pumpkin; Lotus Paste; Peanut; Coffee; Sweet Potato; Cranberry; Date; Coco; Strawberry; Black Sesame, and the Miku (turtle shaped) steamed bun. It is a ‘fusion’ that has worked. The ‘buns’ from Ee Long Delifood are some of the very best to be had, and unsurpassed even in the nation’s capital, Kuala Lumpur. 90

Stacked Steamers

Making ready

Keeping warm

Ready to Steam

Ganesh C. Basu Ganesh Chandra Basu is an artist and free-lance writer from Kolkata (Calcutta), India. He has participated in 100 collective International and National exhibitions with than 50 Group and 40 solo exhibitions in India and Abroad. These include Jehangir Art Gallery, Nehru Centre, Bajaj Art Gallery, Mumbai, India International Centre, Lalit Kala Academy (National Academy of Art) New Delhi, Academy of Fine Arts, Birla Academy of Art and Culture, Ahuja Museum for Arts, Emami Chisel (E C A )ART Pvt Ltd, and Gallery K-2 Katayun Art Gallery, Kolkata. Ganesh has participated in several National and International Art workshops and symposium/ Residency in Asia and Europe, since 1987. He has received several National /International awards and gold medals for his art and literature. For experience and workshops/ residencies Basu has travelled to Austria, China, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Greece, Finland, France, Spain, the Netherlands, Italy, Germany, Japan, Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, South Korea, Hong Kong, Macau, Bangladesh and Moscow.

Ancient Love

100

Ancient Love

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Ancient Love

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Ancient Love

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Ancient Love

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Ancient Love

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Ancient Love

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Ancient Love

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Reza Pratisca Hasibuan Reza Pratisca Hasibuan is a neosurrealist painter from Yogyakarta, Indonesia, and is currently studying at the Indonesian Art Institute of Yogyakarta. She has participated in many art events and has gained various art awards. These include the prestigious Basoeki Abdullah Art Award, coming second, in 2016. She has entered the UOB Painting Of The Year in 2015 and 2016, and in 2017 entered the Exhibition of Fine Art Nusantara, â&#x20AC;&#x153; Rest Area â&#x20AC;?, at National Gallery Indonesia, in Jakarta. Her goal is for her work to be recognised internationally.

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Pelindung

109

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Unite

111

The Birth of Beauty

112

Throne, Treasure, Woman

113

Stay Beautiful

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Still Visible

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Portrait of Chia Yu Chian by Cheong Soo Pieng

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Pipe Dreams Chia Yu Chian by Martin A Bradley

Chia Yu Chian was born in 1936, and died in 1990, aged 54. In its infinite wisdom, art history has included Chia into the prestigious Nanyang hall of fame, not just for his extraordinary and poignant output as an artist, but for his due diligence to his craft and his dedication to capturing Singapore and Malaya/Malaysia as they were, with all their humanity and brilliance, during his brief, but dynamic, lifetime. In this pipe dream I enter stage right. The Malaysian evening has grown unusually temperate. The coalescence of heat and humidity has precipitated curiously aesthetic banks of white clouds. They are partially shaded with roseate gold and cerulean, emerging prominent from a still bright, cobalt, sky. Those clouds are formed as if stacks of smoke from a well-worn pipe had suddenly, momentarily, appeared outside the house where Malaysian artist Chia Yu Chian had lived (in Bandar Sri Petaling, Kuala Lumpur). Those clouds become frozen. Briefly static. Anticipating the hand of the artist to commit that act of mimesis which Plato (in the Republic) had been so concerned over, for Chia liked huge skies, as we can see in his ‘View of Jinjang, Selangor (1969-1972). I had travelled to converse with Leong Siew Hong (Chia Yu Chian’s wife), Chia Chee Ping (his younger son) and Chia Meow Lin (his daughter), who are among those who had known the artist Chia Yu Chian best. I had the honour of being able to dine with them, not in the Western concept of style but in the alternate Cantonese way of having deliciously fresh food, freshly cooked in an environment paying homage to that and nothing else. In the rambunctious Chinese ambience of that local restaurant, meaningful conversation, unless about the meal itself, became subservient to the sumptuousness of the feast. Wisps of real conversation, about Chia Yu Chian, became a delicacy to be savoured later. That repast was a precursor to the main ‘meal’. It was the concrete appetiser to a contextual meal of conviviality, reminiscence and remembering, bound over for the quieter environment of the family home. Over slim glasses of red wine, in a downstairs room provoking memories of the artist, conversations arose in Mandarin and English. It was to become but a taster, concerned with the family’s recollections of Chia and of conversations regretfully never began with the artist. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know. I had climbed down a small staircase to that dinning area, noticing shelves of art books. Herbert Read’s ‘Art Now’, Thames & Hudson’s ‘Picasso’ and ‘Maitres de L’Art Moderne’ struck me in their significance, before I descended to listen. Taking one step at a time, I simultaneously looked at each photograph as I passed, down and through that passageway. Without knowing I was, unwittingly, following in the footsteps of Singaporean Dr. Bridget Tracy Tan, who had visited Chia’s home when 119

she had been the Director (Art & Corporate Knowledge) of the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts (NAFA). She had been there to write about Chia for the catalogue ‘Chia Yu Chian in Nanyang’, for the 2009 exhibition of his works. In the catalogue she had given very vivid descriptions of the interior of Chia’s house, the same house I had come to these years later. Nine years after the Nanyang Academy’s resurrection, in 1946, from its closure due to Second World War (1941 to 1945), Lim Hak Tai, in 1955, and as Founding Principle for the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts, included within the academy’s philosophical concepts a fusion of cultures of different races, a bridging of Eastern and Western art, and an expression of local, tropical flavour. A ‘style’ gradually became noticeable, springing from these essential notions. The founding ideas of a new style (Nanyang Style) was intimated to be a fusion of Chinese art, art considered to be School of Paris, and depictions of life, flora and fauna from the Nanyang, or lands bordering the South China Sea. These axioms are essential to the understanding of the essence of Chia Yu Chian’s early works, and the overall spirit of his subsequent paintings. From looking at those early works, created in an embryonic Singapore before Chia’s Parisian sojourn, there is no doubt that the artist could, should and would create a niche for his oeuvre within the annals of Nanyang, perhaps even of South East Asian painting. The dream was beginning to come true. That dream was aided and abetted by Chia being tutored in Singapore, by two notable ‘Nanyang’ painters, Chen Wen Hsi (Singapore Chinese High School) and Cheong Soo Pieng (Nanyang Academy of Fine Art). Though, as an interview (1973) with the late art historian and artist Redza Piyadasa explained, Chia was never officially at the Nanyang Academy of Fine art, but was able to exhibit with those artists, and evidently drew a great deal of influence from his proximity to them. Chia’s daughter, Chia Meow Lin, explained that during those Malayan years, before Merdeka (independence), there was a longing, an urging amongst the younger people to leave for the West. Chia (her father) had taken a few months at the British Council, Singapore, learning English,

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and later at Alliance Française learning French. No doubt with the idea of gleaning fresh ideas for his art, from a stay abroad. Chia was a very outgoing person who made friends easily. It was fortuitous that Chia received a French Government Scholarship to study art, in Paris. Jean Aurillac, the French Consular General to Singapore at that time, had authenticated a certificate written by the Director of the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts (NAFA) to allow Chia to study at the Ecole Nationale Superieure des Beaux Arts de Paris, from 1959 to 1962, under the guidance of Professor Roger Chapelain-Midy. A ‘Straits Times’ article (28th June, 1959, page 5) explains that in the February of 1959, Chia Yu Chian had entered France. He lost no time in making his mark there, for from the 4th of July until the 27th of that year, Chia held a one-man exhibition of his Malayan and Parisian artworks, at the Galerie de Villiers, in Paris. Before Chia had travelled to France, he held an exhibition in Kuala Lumpur. It was there that he was to meet his future wife, Leong Siew Hong, who already had an interest in art. The story goes that she arrived late for the exhibition opening and, being a gentleman, Chia escorted the lady back home in the dark. A relationship was sparked. They communicated through letters while Chia was away and, on his return, he took a taxi all the way to Banting, where Leong Siew Hong was teaching. The rest, as they say, is history and one reason why that artist had hastened back to Malaya, after his studies. In 1961, a year before Chia left to return to Malaya (1962), Singaporean Nanyang Master artist, close friend and mentor to Chia, Cheong Soo Pieng, had made a very simple sketch of his friend. That energetically vibrant sketch features a very suave, debonaire, Chia, notorious pipe in mouth and coat collar turned up. He could have been mistaken for the iconic French actor Jean-Paul Belmondo (in Jean-Luc Godard’s 1960 film, ‘Breathless’). Soo Pieng had been sponsored to a European trip by Malaysian philanthropist Loke Wan Tho, and had met up with Chia, in London, with that sketch ensuing as a memento of their mentor/mentee meeting. Chia and his pipe had, seemingly, become inseparable. Photographs, taken in and around the time Chia was in Paris (1959 to 1962), reveal the young artist as a playful, dapper young man, posing with a small, sometimes larger, pipe. Some black and white images are with, some without, cigarettes in the smaller pipe, delicately balancing a growing head of ash, such as ‘1959, First Studio in Paris 20 Rue du Sommerard, Latin Quartere, Sorbonne’, or ‘Paris, 1959’ or there again Chia posing with his artwork ‘Street scene, Madrid, Spain’, in London, (1960) or working on his mural for the Malaysian Embassy in Paris (1961). Nineteen sixty one was also the year in which Chia’s painting,’View of Paris’, was bought by Dato Lee Kong Chian, and presented to the new Malayan National Art Gallery (opened in 1958). On Chia’s return to Malaya, in the February of 1962, the ‘Straits Times’, 2nd of September, 1962, Page 2, remarks on him opening his, and Penang’s, first art gallery, at the Lim Chwee Leong building, in Prangin Road, Penang. The article was headlined ‘Malayan Artist Starts His Own Gallery’. That gallery was hailed as being the first of its kind in Penang. It was not, however, Chia’s first hanging in Penang. Doctor Lim Chong Eu had opened Chia’s exhibition (at Penang Library) on the 17th of May, 1958, a year before Chia had left for Paris. That was shortly after 123

Cowherd

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The Malay Family

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To Stitch Up

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Young Girl Wearing A Hat

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Malcolm McDonald (the Commissioner-General for Southeast Asia and the university’s first chancellor) had bought Chia’s painting ‘Young Woman’ and presented it to the University of Malaya, according to the ‘Straits Times, 10th of March, 1958 (page 5). During the next decade (1970s), Chia’s work edged more towards a style which could be deemed Malaysian Gauguin. This is evidenced, particularly, in the colouration and subject matter of Chi’s portraits and figure work such as ‘Seated Woman’ (1973), ’Cowherd’ (1975), and ‘Maternity’ (1977). If anything, Chia, being born in South East Asia, and understanding its people and their nuances, was more successful than Gauguin in revealing the subtle distinctions of tropical living. Chia played down fragrant notions of exotica, while seeking to uncover equatorial normalcy, ultimately counterpoised by his heightened colour perception. In ‘The Malay Family’ (1971), Chia uses a rich green to advance the yellow of the child’s dress, and the redness of the woman’s top covering. A similar transposition of colour draws the viewer’s eyes to the dress in ‘The Young Girl’ (1976), where the viewer becomes transfixed by the dress’s pattern and the unusual foreshortening perspective of the portrait. Chia’s ‘To Stitch Up’ (1973) sees a more subtle approach to colouration. It features a sitting figure whose clothing almost blends into the multicoloured, textured, background. The effect of this blending is to bring the young woman’s face and her hands forward, the one transfixed in concentration, the other dextrously busy at her work. This painting was auctioned by Christie’s, Hong Kong, this year (2017). The 1980s saw a profusion of Chia’s works. They were as simple as a ‘Van Gogh’ pot of ‘Sunflowers’ (1982) and as complex as his landscape ‘Abode of Recluses’ (also in 1982), but, for this writer, it is in his 1980s figure work that Chia excelled, in particularly ‘Dancing Gracefully’ (1983), a painting of an Indian woman, full of movement, and his ‘Hospital Series’ - sketched out while he was hospitalised in Kuala Lumpur and completed, later, in his studio. It was to be his final decade. He left a huge legacy of paintings, a catalogue of his life and the life of the newly independent Malaya, later to become Malaysia. A few paintings, created before his death (1990), indicate a real maturity to his style. His nudes, especially, had reached a very sophisticated air. Chia’s paintings have continued to generate a great interest since that ‘Chia Yu Chian in Nanyang’ exhibition in 2009. That exhibition was held at the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts, Lim Hak Tai Gallery, between the 13th November and the 27th December of that year. It was only fitting that Chia’s work should, in a sense, return home. Even though Singapore was never home to Chia, but home to the very essence, to

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the soul and spirit of his work which is very much part of the idea of a Nanyang fusion of ideas from the West and the East. A year after that exhibition, in the October of 2010, Chi’s work ‘Tin Mine’ (1958) was auctioned at Hong Kong Sotherby’s (the Modern and Contemporary Southeast Asian Paintings), and his ‘Paris Scene’ (1960) was featured in the local Henry Butcher Art Auction Malaysia. Also in 2010, under the Malaysian Modern and Contemporary Art Collection, Chia’s ‘KL Street Scene (Lebuh Pudu) (1985) was auctioned, and it is notable that Chia’s work has continued to be sold at Henry Butcher auctions each and every year since that initial Singapore exhibition. As time has progressed, various notable auction houses have taken an interest in Chia Yu Chian’s works. This includes Bonham's, a well respected art auctioneer. In 2010, Bonham’s New Bond Street, London, auctioned Chia’s ‘Kek Lok Is Temple’ (1950) and in 2014, Bonhams San Francisco (Asian Decorative Arts) auctioned ‘City Night’ (1962). In the same year, Christie’s, Hong Kong, sold ‘A View of Penang’ (1958) at the Asian 20th Century Art (Day Sale). In 2015, Chia’s painting 'By The River’ (1954) was sold, again at 130

Local Fruits

Christie's Hong Kong 'Convergences: A Special Sale of Singapore Art’, while his work ‘Penang’, sold in the Asian 20th Century Art (Day Sale) 31 May 2015, Hong Kong, HKCEC Grand Hall by Christie’s. One year later, in 2016, Chia’s work was still being auctioned in both Christie's Hong Kong (Asian 20th Century Art, Day Sale), and Sotheby's Hong Kong (Modern and Contemporary Southeast Asian Art), as well as 33 Auction Singapore (Singaporean Art, Modern and Contemporary Asian Art) and in local Malaysian auction houses. It is a trend that grows. Plato need have no concern. The static clouds have moved, been hidden or are simply no longer revealed. While the world moves inextricably on, the pipe dream continues. He captured the beauty and humanity of his environment, leaving this legacy to the country he loved, the one he chose to return to, from the excitements of the Parisian metropolis, where he had studied. Koh Cheng Foo (principal of Ai Tong School), writing as Marco Hsu (in his book A brief history of Malayan art, page 91, and originally published in 1963) has this to say - ‘Chia Yu Chian is naturally talented and also outstanding in his art, I believe that he will do well in the 131

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Malayan art scene in future’. And he did do well. With dedication to his art, Chia painted a path to the very pinnacle of artistry in South East Asia, achieving recognition beside his former tutors, Cheong Soo Pieng and Chen Wen Hsi, indubitably giants in their field. Eminent Asian art history scholar, T.K. Sabapathy, on seeing Chia’s work at the Chinese Chamber of Commerce (1984), mentioned this of Chia’s work; that his (Chia’s) ‘Colour and brush stroke exert a force and vitality, transforming the canvas into a field throbbing with energy.’ I can give no higher praise. I am eternally grateful to the late Chia Yu Chian’s family, Leong Siew Hong and those family members who were able to be present during my interview, and to my wife Khor Pei Yeou who, along with Chia Meow Lin, translated for that interview and enabled a free flow of additional information for this writing. I exit stage left while Chia’s beloved pipe still resides in the house that he left, never to return to. The tobacco bowl languishes, never to be re-filled, a hasty flame never to be re-lit, a Shakespearian brief candle dowsed.

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Pinky

Kumari Madawela The remarkable Indian artist, Pinky Kumari Madawela, was born in Bihar, India. Bihar is famous for the ancient pilgrimage site of Buddha’s Bodhi tree, growing in the serene Bodhgaya’s Mahabodhi Temple. Madawela was fortunate to have studied at the great Indian ‘renaissance’ master, Rabindranath Tagore 's university, BharatiVisvaBharati University (Kala-Bhabana) in Santiniketan, West Bengal. She completed her MFA in sculpture, then moved to Karnakata. Her intense love for painting, and her immense joy for colour, shines through all her very expressive art works. In interviews Madawela has expressed that her interest in colour bursts forth like the Indian Spring festival of Holi, in which the four main colours - red, blue, yellow and green all have deeply symbolic meanings. Within a web of complex significations red becomes concepts of love and fertility, but also fire and purity; blue is the eternal colour of Krishna and his all-inclusiveness; yellow is the colour of harvest, and turmeric, while green is spring, new beginnings and happiness. Madawela’s vivid paintings swirl, and at times erupt with spiritual or metaphysical energy. In vibrant paintings such as ‘I Found my Orange Dress’ (mixed media on paper), wisps of line skate along intriguing surfaces. A mixture of female figures are revealed, emerging from roots of colour, orange, pink, and a surprise of blue (top right). There are hints of Medieval paintings. Courtiers huddle together gossiping, perhaps of forbidden loves, while gaiety takes centre stage and the splendour of the favourite dress is revealed. Through her titles and the artworks they describe, Madawela’s fascination with spirituality prevails. In ‘State of the Heart’ and ‘Novices’ the onlooker becomes a voyeur, beguiled by Sufic choreography, transposed with Rumi’s poetry into the mystic realms of Dervish dances. The paintings become poetry. The resultant paintings, the line, the colour all speak to the heart as the artist takes the onlooker’s hand into the swing and sway, is turned around and around into a transcendental ascent, a romance of movement and of the spirit. We are surrendered to a god, receiving their esoteric, divine love. Heavenly blue reveals a meditation of movement and transcendence which Madawela is intent upon drawing us into, coaxing us to join the Dervish dancers, and her, in the dances of love, turning towards the truth, abandoning egos, twisting towards the ultimate lover’s perfection. The whirling Sufic dance is the ‘Sema’, originating in 13th century Turkey. Sufis are known for their 134

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wooden (sufa) cloaks. The Mevlevis order, those who perform the dance, was founded by the poet and mystic Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, mostly just known as Rumi. Yet, even in height of passionate movement there is stillness. Amidst paintings with the forcefulness of ‘Durga’, its sombre tones and its Chagal black, there are images that simply reach out to your soul, capture your consciousness. A youthful Buddha (Young Buddha) comes draped in the orange red of his philosophy. There are a multitude of conjectures clouding the background of Madawela’s painting, but Siddhartha Gautama shines, radiant, his eyes full of hope and his destiny. It is still an impassioned piece, full of energy and vitalism, which ultimately draws the onlooker’s eye to the soft, loving, eyes of the man who will become Buddha. The painting is haunting, not in any negative sense but in the sense that the Mona Lisa is haunting and, once seen, is hard to forget. Pinky Kumari Madawela is a painter of the spirit. 135

I Found My Orange Dress

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State Of The Heart (Sufi)

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Arabian Silk Dancer

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Young Buddha (detail)

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Young Buddha

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cambodia martin a bradley

One hour delay.

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Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Landing hurriedly. Angkor International Airport. Local SIM card inserted. Ride dusty tuk tuk. Observe constant building works. New roads construction. Traffic chaos. Edging past hospital realise I have arrived. Siem Reap. Viva Hotel. Same airy room. Stairs. Four flights. Punishing ancient knees.

Fix non-flushing toilet. Adjust shower trickle. Give thanks. Home from home. Place to rest, think, write. Comfort. A small thing. Anomaly in country emerging from tragic past. Any place you connect, you connect well. Five years. Sense of belonging expands. Familiarity,

peace.

Cooler. Nearing rainy season. Eggs tasting like eggs. Sunny side exploding wondrously in mouth. Crispy bacon like real bacon, not beef bacon. Chicken bacon. Coffee. Thick. Strong. Local. Ancient land patined with Americana. Welcomes, fascinates, embraces. Innocent passion of unmarried thirty something Khmer twins, dreaming of beaus courageous enough to match their spirits. Post breakfast. Sense of Siem Reap stirring. Shutters opening. Honda Scoopys weaving betwixt, between tuk tuks. Nightly burrowed, ever present tourists crawling, seeking sustenance. Mot Douk, military land mine

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victim, walks streets selling books. Tray, crammed, hangs from neck. Gestures stumps of arms. Hands gone. Politely sells books to and for tourists. I buy, $20, donate book to hotel mini-library. Cambodia has eighty three land mine casualties in 2016, despite money thrown at project and 20th anniversary of Diana Princess of Wales/Princess of the People’s involvement with Cambodia de-mining projects. Chinese Madam boss discovers Toyota saloon, which chauffeur drove over and parked on pavement, blocked by motorcycles. Lorry crammed with large green coconuts glides, watched by three Khmer young men, sitting, waiting for tourists they know will come. They rest in one tuk tuk. It carries cushion resembling Texas steer. The three men, their interest in one mobile phone and its spoils waned, become animated, walking back, forth, energising for day ahead. Tuk tuk, sir, not question, but

hope. Beautiful season. Midday restaurants barely inhabited. Skies, blue, promote small lazy clouds. White of course. Lunching at Belmiros. Small Italian restaurant and bar. Off maze of lanes, Siem Reap infamous for. Balmy day. Thursday feels like Sunday. Reggae plays in background. Little to do but write, rest and eat. Vacation as Americans say. Seems more fitting than ‘holiday’. Suntans, sangria, quite possibly sex. Siem Reap no beach, Honey absent, too early for sangria solo. Siem Reap has many pharmacies now. Some not cheap. Due to airline regulations, I need toothpaste, shampoo.

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I walk to nearest pharmacy, grab said items, present $100 note. Cashier looks at note. Turns it this way and that. Says note ‘broken’. Means damaged. She points to quite minute holes, made by stapler, ‘broken’, see ‘broken’. Says she cannot accept. I am taken aback. I want to argue. She determined not to accept note. A note, incidentally, given by money changer between The Gardens and Mega Mall, Kuala Lumpur. Beware people. Cambodia does not accept notes with minute holes in.

Night brings Angkor draft. Warm breeze. Headlights of Scoopies finding way home. Long black hair escaping fish bowl helmets. Pert riders. Children front and rear. Largeness of AmeriEuropean male. All too revealing shorts. Sleevelessly riding kinglike in tuk tuk. Captive younger Khmer woman opposite, trophy. Dinner, resolve weakens. Beer in Malaysia $3 a glass, Cambodia .75c. Cheaper than water. I plump for

beer

to accompany evening meal.

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Tad light headed climbing four staircases to hotel room. Routine is tempting. Today I order the same breakfasts at Viva. One for me, one to takeaway for Sitha, regular tuk tuk driver. There is no way he could afford, even want to afford Burrito for breakfast. Nice to see smile as I hand it over. That is a routine Honey and I developed staying at Viva, where breakfasts come with the room. Colors of Cambodia staff busy. I don't disturb. I wander streets of old Siem Reap pricing Kampot Pepper. I like to use Kampot Pepper in home cooking. Very peppery, hot, bite, great with pasta, spaghetti. Intense pepperiness only found elsewhere with Sarawak Pepper. Spice trade existed since 2000 BC. Transporting spice. Originally Keralan. South India black gold. Now from Cambodia. Back to West. Romans great pepper fans. Oldest Roman cookbook, Marcus Gavius Apicius â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;De re Coquinariaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome) 80% recipes using pepper.

Back at Nai Khmer. Good. Cheap. Khmer food. Pumpkin soup with half baguette, sago, banana and coconut milk dessert. One glass iced Cambodian coffee. Another Passion fruit and soda. Still not reaching $7. No air con but view of constantly

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changing humanity. I write. Thinking of friends not here, Honey, of course, Art, Julia et al. Janice Joplin sang ‘Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose’. Our responsibilities, loyalties, memories of smiles and sweet between the sheets, anchor us. Those who understand us, accept us for who and what we are, give us another kind of freedom, the freedom to be

freedom

ourselves. Greatest of all.

Coolness of Khmer breeze brings Spanish guitar, cerveza scents to salsa tacos. Serenaded. Bar opposite hotel, cheekily called The Laundry, has series of live music. It's apt. Viva offers ‘Fine Mexican Cuisine’ (fine enough for Siem Reap). Mexican here perhaps means Mexicanish, diluted version of Tex Mex for those of who know no better. It is like Chinese, Indian restaurants in England, Western restaurants in Malaysia. Who the hell invented Chicken Chop anyway. I am impressed, ‘music’ ended at midnight. Opposite, young guy sweeps front Khmer Kitchen Restaurant. Doesn't dampen dust first. Dust clouds

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thrown up by sweeping, drift across road. Walk out hatless. Hat now only fit for Worzel Gummidge. Old Market area. Seek art. Discover Cambodia is land where tuk tuks, motorcycles and cars all clamour for pavement. Pedestrians use road. Contrary to common belief, Cambodia is not people friendly country. Find precisely one art gallery open, 11am, Siem Reap morning. Colors of Cambodia, my other half area manager. Other conveyor belt tourist art shops, only for interior design, closed or closed down. Google gives scant directions to those beyond walking distance. Kandal Village, supposedly new, up coming, cultural area, simply isn't. Most tourist information out dated. One former art gallery closed. Another children’s charity shop. ‘Art Cafe’ has little actual

art does not understand concept of ‘flat white’ coffee. The Mexican cafe closed. Little interior design bijou boutiques, flashbacks of Covent Garden, prices to match. Whole area appears derelict. Construction site. Exercise worth it. Desire for flat white taken over. Sit at Sister Srey, by river. One day they will recognise me. Maybe not. Drink smallish flat white ($2.75). Have that coffee smell on fingers. I can get much better tasting flat white at McDonalds McCafe in Puchong, Malaysia. Twice the size, half the price ($1.47), air con too. When in Siem Reap …buy coffee at an Australian owned cafe.

Must buy a new hat in Blighty.

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Town quiet. Mot Douk , book seller having lost hands while in military, complains to me this morning. Very quiet. Few tourists on streets. Being contrarian, see this as good thing. Small, white pot, Liptonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s tea, at Viva, refreshing spirit like no other. Reminder of home, Malaysia. Two hours away from seeing Honey. Light of my life. Harbour mixed feelings. Know she will be doing Road Runner act as soon as she hits tarmac, visit to Colors of Cambodia gallery, visit Childrenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Hospital for mural, visit to this school, that school. What she does. Lady Bountiful. Mother Theresa Cambodia. In the moment. Pushing airport trolley. All smiles. She here. Telling tales of plane bound, excited, restless children. Tuk tuk back to hotel. Siem Reap quiet. Restive. Lunch Nai Khmer, dinner far distant local Khmer restaurant frequented by young middle class Khmer. Chilli fish, fried eel with red ants (less exotic

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than sounds). Morning raga. Tuk tuk passes. Khmer man with half legs kneels framed in tuk tuk metal bars. Di Caprio Titanic moment. Honda Scoopy riders pout bright red lipstick. Cars wake to Monday morning rush. Non Khmer male, thirties, jogs, arm tattoos, earphone, blue Lycra shorts pumping by. Potted Lipton’s tea, obviously made with water off the boil, insipid in my cup. Pot quickly cools in the

Cambodia heat. Breakfast lost its glitter save for the daily passing pageant of Khmer life. Is ennui creeping. She who must serve charity runs to be made up. Fifth anniversary calls for professional Khmer wedding photo to mark event. Actual wedding March. This is Cambodia. Waiting, not for alibi, but for laundry. Smart stripped shirt needed for wedding photo. 8am means 8.30 means 8.50. Five years ago I proposed. Got down on knees, literally, in small tuk tuk, riding airport to Colors of Cambodia Gallery. Old town, Siem Reap. Proposed. Accepted. Obtained Buddhist priest. Rounded congregation. Students, touring photographers, Colors of Cambodia teachers, Founder, flowers. Banana flower seeds in haze of congratulations, joyous thanks, photos but none ‘official’. Five years later clamber into Cambodian tuk tuk. Twins in Khmer costumes await, angelic, innocent apsaras. We fly tuk tuk chariot (kong by). Honey awaits. Traditional Khmer make up, golden wedding costume, Khmer costume jewellery.

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Photographer too serious. Sense of play abandoned. Honey Khmer traditional wedding clothes. Strict poses. No variation. Push. Pull. Twist. No my stomach does not shrink. No my head does not turn in unnatural ways. Smile. Grimace. Photographer getting pissed off with rebel antics. Oh come on, this is us, about us, for usâ&#x20AC;Śâ&#x20AC;Ślet's play. One playful photo allowed. Thank mercy. Studio hot. I sweat. Black jacket heavy, constricting. No longer Hemingway or Wolverine, but sweaty Penguin. Back to Colors of Cambodia Gallery. Snap, snap, snap, hand phone cameras twist turn, we twist, turn, happy to be released. We contort, pull, push, crazy people, Khmer, Malaysian, British, happy to play in loving art school gallery. We are all children.

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The Stunning

Digital Paintings of MV Renju

MV Renju is a â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Concept Artistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; at Barajoun Entertainment. He is a matte painter with 8 plus years experience in game, film and animation Industries, and has worked with Disney Interactive.

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Sages

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Unexplored Ruins-2

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Unexplored Ruins- 05 ( Lord Shiva )

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Unexplored Ruins of Buddha

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Tastes Of Malaysia Malaysia is a diverse, multi- ethnic and multicultural country. Since time immemorial different races, Malays from Indonesia, Indians from the Indian sub-continent and Sri Lanka, and Chinese from mainland China as well as from Hong Kong have brought their differing cuisines into Malaysia. As time has marched on, those cuisines have become intertwined to bring about a fusion of foods which are unique to the concept of Malaysia.

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Dosai Breakfast Savoury Indian Pancake

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Paal Appam

Breakfast Indian Crispy Fermented Rice Pancake with Coconut milk Paal Appam was brought to Malaysia from various regions in South India, including Tamil Nadu, Kerala and parts of Karnataka. Appams have been mentioned in Indian poems between 300 BC and 300 AD.

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Chinese ChickenHerb Soup

Served in an old coconut, from an eatery in a car park, at the back of a very busy Kuala Lumpur, this is a good example of how Chinese traditional dishes are re-visited in Malaysia.

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Chinese Seafood with Abalone and White Fish

A starter of sumptuous seafood, just right for a banquet.

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Prawns in Indonesian Curry

With all the tastes of coconut milk, and curry leaves, this mild curry thickens to a dreamy consistency

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Chinese Fried Vegetables with Fermented Bean Curd Paste sauce

Chinese cabbage, mange tout, lotus root and cloud ear fungus are wok fried and dressed with a sauce made from fermented bean curd.

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Chinese Deep Fried Tofu with Salted Egg sauce

Fingers of tofu are deep fried and drenched in a sauce with curry leaves and salted egg yolk, mixing Indian and Chinese cuisines.

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Chinese Roast Duck

Traditional Chinese roasted duck has a history dating back to 420 - 589 AD.

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Chang Chinese sweet steamed Dumpling

Otherwise known as lye water rice dumpling, these small, sweet dumplings (chang) are steamed and eaten with a sweet palm sugar sauce.

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Pengat Pisang Malay Banana cooked in Pandan Leaf and Palm Sugar sauce

Firm banana is cooked in a sauce of sweet palm sugar and pandanas leaves, giving a unique fragrance and taste. It is a dish familiar to Malay culture.

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Terengganu Ketupat Sotong Malay Squid stuffed with Glutinous Coconut Rice cooked in a Palm Sugar sauce

Medium sized squid are stuffed with glutinous rice, already cooked in coconut milk, then oven baked in a bath of sweet palm sugar. The dish is believed to originated on Malaysia's East Coast among the Malay culture there.

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Malaysian Coffee

traditionally made using roasted, sweetened coffee filtered through a coffee 'sock' strainer

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Dusun Publications

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Books by Martin

Bradley 191

CAMBODIA CHINA ITALY

WITH MARTIN BRADLEY

MALAYSIA PHILIPPINES SPAIN 192