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Art/Photography

TPAM's Singapore Focus

TPAMのシンガポール・フォーカス

TEXT: Daniel Teo
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The International Performing Arts Meeting in Yokohama (commonly known as TPAM), which aims to be a regional platform for contemporary performing arts, has been focusing on Asia since last year. TPAM2016 had a Singapore Focus program that showcased contemporary works by Singaporean artists. I was fortunate enough to be able to participate in this year's TPAM through an invitation from the Japan Foundation, but as a Singaporean, I was wondering what works would be introduced as representative of this small city-state, which has barely passed half a century since independence. I was interested in.

Since independent curator/dramaturg/producer Tan Fukuen is the curator of this program, I had some expectations about the works that would be featured. Born and raised in Singapore, Tan has worked across Asia and Europe, particularly as a festival curator, and is currently based in Bangkok. His background is wide-ranging and covers traditional to contemporary theatre, dance, film, visual arts and other artistic fields. He also has a strong interest in preserving history and tradition.

Tan is also an outspoken critic of Singaporean art. He says many works in Singapore are "almost paralyzed ". This is because they are limited by government subsidies and regulations. He also believes that Singaporean contemporary artists tend to create works that lack clarity and have an insular feel, and that they are not at a stage where they can be accepted internationally. "I don't think they fully understand the certain codes and logics of how contemporary art is made, and that makes it difficult for it to be accepted as it should in different contexts." Conversely, he likes " artists who present their work with a certain clarity and vision, " like a good film director.

At TPAM , Tan says that his curation “consciously transcends the framework of the nation-state and works with various collaborators and communities to articulate shared belongings/longings within global complexity.” We will feature independent artists from around the world ." Regarding the artists he has chosen, he asks, ``Nursed in an exemplary system filled with strict discipline, miraculous economic success, and a multicultural lifestyle that is the envy of neighboring countries, what distinguishes them? Are they forced to tell stories of difference? What kind of worlds are they connected to? Whose stories are they telling?"

That's why, with Tan at the helm of the Singapore program, he has a bold, clear and consistent direction and concept, accurately conveys the artist's style and vision, and provides high-quality information about the world outside Singapore. I was hoping that there would be works that showed understanding.

Ho Rui An “Solar: A Meltdown”

Singaporean artist Ho Rui An performs the performance-talk “Solar: A Meltdown” (Photographer: Hideto Maezawa)
Singaporean artist Ho Rui An performs the performance-talk “Solar: A Meltdown” (Photographer: Hideto Maezawa)

Ho Rui An is a Singaporean artist who uses text, media, and performance to examine theory, discourse, and society. One of his unique styles is what he calls "performative talk." This is a scripted lecture that uses multimedia images and revolves around a single word or concept, such as ``spectacle'' in ``The Spectable'' (2014) and ``wave'' in ``The Wave'' (2013). His reflections are laid out. He tackled "sweat" in "Solar: A Meltdown," performed to a sold-out audience at TPAM.

The starting point for this talk is the sweaty back of anthropologist Charles Le Roux, or rather, his full-size statue that hangs in the Tropical Museum in Amsterdam. A photograph of a sweaty mannequin hangs in Ho's left hand, and a screen on which a slideshow is projected hangs in his right. Ho stands in the center of the stage with a slender body and wearing black clothes. Contrary to the typical image of brown-skinned slaves doing hard work sweating under the tropical sun, and colonists wearing white clothes and looking sharp, the work group - Ho muses on the fact that Law is shown sweating, and this begins the lecture. Sweat essentially transforms the deified colonialists back into humanity.

From this point, Ho explores the sun, sweat, and colonialism in art, history, film, and media. It is an exciting journey that moves between fiction and nonfiction, the domestic and the global, and critically examines discourses of race, gender, culture, and power. He draws his analysis from historical, artistic, and cinematic texts, as well as from his own personal memories. Finally, Solar: A Meltdown ends with Ho recounting his own experience of catching a glimpse of Queen Elizabeth II in the crowd, waving calmly and without breaking a sweat.

Ho's delivery is clear, but he is not a masterful speaker. When Sun, Sweat, Solar Queens: An Expedition, a precursor to Solar: A Meltdown, was shown at India's Kochi-Muziris Biennale, one critic said, ``This is ultimately a book. It is a reading of a written text, and in that sense it may be more persuasive in the form of a publication .'' Indeed, Ho's text is persuasive. Filled with wit and dry humor, combined with well-chosen visual material, the talks provide the audience with an experience that goes beyond being boring.

However, the nature of written talks is advantageous in some areas and disadvantageous in others. For example, Ho depicts a half-naked Mel Gibson having a nightmare in The Dangerous Years. The contrast between Ho's expressionless expression and Gibson's writhing appearance in the footage has the intended comedic effect. But when Ho tries to time her speech perfectly to the footage of Deborah Kerr joyfully singing "The More You Know" from "The King and I," it feels like she's aiming too hard. Ho's talks seem to work better when multimedia is behind his texts than vice versa.

Solar: A Meltdown is a masterful text and an enjoyable performance overall. As a young Singaporean artist, Ho has demonstrated a strong historical and global awareness, a keen intellectual curiosity to grapple with difficult issues, and an enviable ability to find humor in dark situations. ing.

You can learn more about Ho Rui An's work on his website .

Daniel Koch/Disco Danny & Luke George “Bunny”

Luke George is hanging a bound audience member in the air, and although you can't see it in the photo, his cock is also being hung high by the audience member (Photographer: Hideto Maezawa)
Luke George is hanging a bound audience member in the air, and although you can't see it in the photo, his cock is also being hung high by the audience (Photographer: Hideto Maezawa)

While some see it as a country where bureaucracy and censorship can ruin artists, Singaporean choreographer Daniel Kok sees it as a land of opportunity. he said in 2013. " It's easier to be an artist in Singapore than elsewhere. There aren't enough artists, which means there's more money and space than elsewhere ." These opportunities also allow him to frequently travel outside of this island nation/city state. Koch has performed throughout Asia and Europe and currently resides in Europe. His latest work, ``Bunny,'' was co-written with Melbourne choreographer Luke George, and has been performed in Singapore, Norway, and Sydney before TPAM, and will be performed in New York in April this year.

"Bunny" is a nickname given to a bound person in the world of rope bondage (as explained in the performance brochure). And the question at the heart of this film (which is also explained in the pamphlet) is, "What would happen if everyone (in the theater) was a Bunny?" It's certainly a thrilling question, and one that hints at what's in store for the audience.

From the looks of it, ``Bunny'' is a work whose genre cannot be specified. In fact, it has been variously described as an ``experiential dance work,'' ``theatrical play,'' ``a bondage work,'' and a ``bondage performance event.'' TPAM's program information uses the relatively safe expression "performance installation." But one thing is clear: Bunny is about ropes, and there are a lot of them.

As we are led to the cave-like former warehouse space on the top floor of BankART Studio NYK, George is calmly tying up a cock in the center of the pale-white performance area. A pink Hello Kitty is helplessly tied to a pillar. The audience surrounding the two artists saw various objects scattered around the performance area—tables, vacuum cleaners, rabbit figurines, buckets, etc.—tied and hung in confusing ways with brightly colored ropes. Whether you like it or not, you can clearly see it.

Sexual overtones associated with rope bondage performances are not excluded. The cook and George are mostly bare skin, with the former wearing silver tights and the latter wearing blue underwear and a short pink kimono. George also has yellow rope tied around his upper body in a grid pattern, and colorful braids hanging from his head like dreadlocks. But beyond the eroticism, Koch says, this is a work " about giving permission, about taking power ."

George ties up the cook and suspends it in the air like a piece of meat, and this is where the interaction with the audience begins. It's a game about how much the audience is willing to help the artist. It starts out surprisingly calm: George asks someone if he can tie his hands behind his back.
— But it escalates into the most terrifying act of submission. Someone is bound and blindfolded from head to toe, and other spectators guide him through the space. A man is asked to whip a cock lying face down on a desk.
—He does this gently, but he is replaced by a woman who does not hesitate to whip the cock ass as loud as she can. The other woman is tied up in a more complicated manner, and the cook, in a ritual gesture, removes all the contents of her purse and displays them neatly.

What is strangest of all is that the spectators, who volunteer to complete the tasks given to them, appear to be happy victims of Cock and George's pranks. Many of them have bright smiles and some are giggling, but no one seems upset or says "no." This obedience is perhaps made possible by the mysterious, surreal atmosphere maintained throughout the performance. For example, the cook ambles slowly through the brightly lit set, playing with props and even squirting a fire extinguisher. These outlandish actions keep the tone of the performance light and playful.

However, there is also a certain kind of malice in the atmosphere. George delivers the instructions in a restrained tone. Like an uncompromising disciplinarian, he calmly but persistently repeats the rules until they become ingrained. The cock is suspended high from the ceiling, but when three spectators let go of the rope that is literally his lifeline, he falls. And, of course, there is always the danger that they will be removed from their safe position as spectators and turned into the artist's plaything. This tension is most evident when Cook and George scan the audience for the next applicant.

Sometimes there are lulls in performance. That's inevitable at two and a half hours long. It takes quite a while to bind (and untie). At last year's performance in Singapore, there was some criticism that this hindered the flow of the performance. " That leaves a lot of gaps in the film, and there's not enough reward to make up for the wait ." Toward the end, Cook and George suddenly dance briefly to disco music, which separates them from the audience, contrary to their mutuality in the first half.

The end of Kok and George's performance (Photographer: Daniel Teo)
The end of Kok and George's performance (Photographer: Daniel Teo)

However, as a work that explores the relationship between artist and audience, ``Bunny'' is an excellent work. Rope bondage is an apt metaphor for bringing to light the expectations and agreements that exist between the two parties. The relationship between artist and audience is consensual, as long as both parties allow themselves to be in the same space. But which side decides the artistic content? Are the artists responding to the demands of the audience, or are the former just playing with the latter? ``Bunny'' as a work asks all of these questions and goes beyond them. It's a bold, provocative piece of work, and (if you agree to be restrained) it's also a lot of fun.

Click here to learn more about Daniel Koch and here about Luke George.

Choi Ka-fai “SoftMachine: Expedition”

Main exhibition area of Choi Ka Fai's "SoftMachine: Expedition" (Photo: Hideto Maezawa)
Main exhibition area of Choi Ka Fai's "SoftMachine: Expedition" (Photo: Hideto Maezawa)

Choi Ka-fai's ``SoftMachine: Expedition'' is a video installation that surveys the state of contemporary dance in Asia. Over the course of three years, Choi interviewed over 80 contemporary dance professionals from China, India, Indonesia, Japan, and Singapore to learn about their unique dance backgrounds and practices, and what they stand for in the Asian context. I have been documenting what I think of as "contemporary" dance.

When you go up to the third floor of BankART Studio NYK, you'll see a huge white wall in front of you, lined with portraits of the people Choi interviewed, along with their backgrounds. To the left is the main installation area, with a number of video monitors and headphones, and edited interview footage playing on a loop.

Photos of dance professionals interviewed by Choi Ka Fai (Photographer: Daniel Teo)
Photos of dance professionals interviewed by Choi Ka Fai (Photographer: Daniel Teo)

The project's title comes from William Burroughs' experimental cut-and-paste novel, The Soft Machine, which sees the body as a technological hybrid. Choi shares this view. "I see the body as a 'soft machine' that cuts and pastes itself into new machines. The body is full of all kinds of technology, and we don't yet know everything about it." . However, the impetus for this project was the Out
This was the sense of discomfort Choi felt when a season program called ``Of Asia'' was put together. he says. ``After watching this program, I realized that I am not interested in things that come out of Asia, but in things that are within Asia .'' This led him to set out on a journey to gather stories from people involved in dance in Asia. Each interview was about an hour long, and while only excerpts were shown at TPAM, the diversity of dance styles, practices, and philosophies from each region on display was enormous.

The interview footage will eventually be archived online, but that's only half of Choi's project. The other half is a more in-depth documentary about five contemporary dance choreographers: Indonesia's Lianto, India's Surjit Nongmeikapam, Japan's Yuya Tsukahara, and China's Xiao Qu and Chow Tzu Han. It's a video. Over the past two years, Choi has been meeting and interviewing them many times, filming their dance activities, and working on new choreography based on their vision of contemporary Asian dance. The result is four full-length documentary videos and four highly unique dance pieces, which have been performed in Austria, Germany, Switzerland and Singapore. These documentary videos and performance footage were also exhibited at TPAM. You can also watch the trailer for the documentary here .

SoftMachine is an ambitious project because of its scope. After all, Asia is much more than just the five countries Choi focuses on, and SoftMachine is a research endeavor that falls short of a complete data set. But that's why this project is probably intentionally failing. When viewed from within Asia, contemporary dance in Asia may simply be a collection of completely disparate parts connected geographically. Adding other elements may make the picture larger and more complex, but it changes the fact that contemporary Asian dance is a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that is not necessarily complete. isn't it. But each piece is still on the same board. In that sense, ``SoftMachine'' is not only an exploration of contemporary dance in Asia, but also a deconstruction of the singularity of ``Asia'' as seen from the West. What is this but a good thing?

You can learn more about Choi Ka-fai's activities on his website .

global focus

During TPAM, there were two more Singapore Focus programs that I was unable to attend. One is a performance of The Observatory's seventh album, ``Continuum,'' released in 2015. The Observatory is an influential experimental art-rock band in Singapore's music scene, and the music for Continuum incorporates gamelan after two years of research into Balinese music.

The Observatory performing “Continuum” (Photographer: Hideto Maezawa)
The Observatory performing “Continuum” (Photographer: Hideto Maezawa)

The other is ``//gender|o|noise\,'' a noise performance that ``seeks to create the necessary foundation for a state of collective trance.'' Performed by experimental transgender musician Tara Transitory (also known as One Man Nation), it explores the intersections of gender, noise, and ritual. Originally from Singapore, she is currently based in Spain and frequently travels between Asia and Europe to perform and give lectures.

Tara Transitory performing “//gender|o|noise\” (Photo by Hideto Maezawa)
Tara Transitory performing “//gender|o|noise\” (Photo by Hideto Maezawa)

Tan's direction introduced five works from Singapore. All are challenging, unconventional, and innovative. Each effectively communicated a clear vision through their own artistic forms and media. But more importantly, these five works were not just works by artists who were Singaporean citizens, but by artists who were citizens of the world. They place themselves and their art in a broader narrative, seeking inspiration and collaboration beyond Singapore. The Singapore they represent is not an island nation, but a city ready to interact with the outside world. In this sense, calling Tan's curation "Singapore Focus" is a bit misleading. The spotlight he holds up is one that delivers stronger light to a wider area.

*The author is in charge of research and documentation at Singapore's art center " Center 42 "

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