For Art’s Sake!

As promised last week, we’ve whipped out the scorecards for the two ongoing Filipino art exhibitions at SAM. But since there’s also an exhibition on Mexican modern art, I decided to do a mash-up and rate them all! (evil laughter)

There were a lot to choose from, but here are 20 works – all mixed up – that I’ve rated on a scale of 1 (yawn) to 5 (yay).

I still haven’t gotten it down to a science but the gist of it is: I get someone to point out a work for me (in this case, Ida from SAM) and, without looking at the artist’s name, do a five second assessment — using my mental powers. Emphasis on “mental”, please.

By the way, I’m also thinking of simplifying things even more by changing this 1-5 scorecard thing to a “thumbs up” or “thumbs down” affair. Thoughts?

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Thrice Upon A Time: A Century of Story in the Art of the Philippines runs until Jan 31. In The Eye of Modernity: Philippine Neo-Realist Masterworks from the Ateneo Art Gallery runs until Mar 14. Camino A La Modernidad (The Path To Modernity): Mexican Modern Painting runs until Jan 3. All at the Singapore Art Museum.

Tags: Mexican art, Philippine art, Singapore Art Museum

Local poet, Young Artist Award recipient and, most importantly, one-time TODAY movie reviewer and columnist Felix Cheong has a new book of new and selected poems titled Sudden In Youth.

On Friday night, he’ll be at Books Actually for an event titled, get this, Ask Felix Cheong Anything.

The things you do to promote your book… Hee.

So in the spirit of things, I asked him a bunch of questions too.

As they say, word. 

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Can you give us one good reason to buy your new book?

Oh, what the heck. Christmas is a time for giving and sharing, so I’ll offer three reasons:

1) You get to enter the headspace of sex workers in my poems such as “The Prostitute”, “The Stripper” and “The Massage Parlour Girl”.

2) You get to argue with God and live another day in my poems such as “Art, for Christ’s Sake” and “Shadow Boxing”.

3) You get to find out why a good old-fashioned Catholic boy who was once an altar boy ended up branding himself with a tattoo of a typewriter.

Ah, yes, the tattoo. Cool looking, that. What’s the number one guideline if we wanted to be a poet?

Look closely, closetly; live variously, vicariously.

What’s the number one guideline if we wanted to be Felix Cheong The Poet?

Develop a hang-up about religion so huge it can last four collections of poetry. But that’s it. This will be my retirement present to Singapore poetry.

I stumbled across this rather nasty bit of comment from a certain Anonymous over the internet. I shall quote the part that concerns you: “Felix Cheong, (other poets we shall not name)? Derivative drivel oversold to audiences with fancy design, clever marketing, and hype.” Quick, defend thy honour as a poet!

Like the Singapore government, I don’t respond to potshots. Only if you rank me in a list of 100 poets whose “derivative drivel oversold to audiences with fancy design, clever marketing and hype”, just below an obscure poet from Somalia, will I condescend to issue a press statement. My press statement shall read thus: “Like the Singapore government, I don’t respond to potshots.”

Where did the title for your latest volume, Sudden In Youth, come from?
From one of my poems. How much do people get paid these days for asking the obvious?

I’ll msg you, later. What’s your favourite poem in the book?

That’s like asking which kidney I should donate first. But when push comes to stab, it’ll be “Daddy’s Not Home”. It was the hardest poem I’ve ever had to write; it tore me apart trying to explain to my son why I left the family.

DADDY’S NOT HOME

Son, when a father leaves

what he left behind

he remembers, still loves,

like that familiar spot by the afternoon

window, or night bed, where he read,

you on his lap, frequent times

and faraways, a pair of runaways

riding roughshod, word-back,

daring to bring home

laughing songs, sudden sleep.

It’s not right, no, not his right

to go, come what may

it be, by choice or lack

of commitment.

How his guilt takes a beating,

feeds into his own, old wounds,

any way to absolve him

of absence, cowardice, words

heavy with duty and use,

every day of the weak.

Son, forgive him; no just cause

but only just because

walking out is not walking away.

He may never know

the point of no return

is

the point of no returns.

What’s the best book of poetry you’ve read recently?

Sudden in Youth. How much do people get paid these days for asking the obvious?

I already told you, I’ll message you later. So the best local book of poetry you’ve read recently?

See above. 

Fine. What do poets do when they’re not writing poetry?

Look self-important while biting the end of a pen (and maybe getting lead poisoning in the process). Didn’t Nicole Kidman win an Oscar for that?

Are you talking about Gwyneth Paltrow in Sylvia? But then again, you’re the movie expert. Speaking of which, do you miss writing movie reviews for TODAY?

Very much yes. I love movies, I miss the freebies and I got paid for giving my claws a Tyra Banks airing. What more can a struggling poet ask for? 

Don’t you think the question should be: what more can you ask a struggling poet? So what’s going to happen on Friday?

Your guess is as good as mine, man. I just put myself out there and let people take potshots at me.

Potshots? Nah. We’re asking you to write us a haiku. Can?

Haiku, on demand?

Selling myself short, for sure!

For thoughts need pennies.

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Ask Felix Cheong Anything happens this Friday, Nov 20, 7.30pm, at Books Actually, 86 Club Street. His latest poetry book Sudden In Youth is out now.

Tags: Felix Cheong, Singapore poet, Singapore poetry, Sudden In Youth

From Saturday onwards, Singapore Art Museum will be going gaga over Pinoy art, with two exhibitions. Woot.

There’s Thrice Upon A Time: A Century of Story in the Art of the Philippines, which runs until Jan 31, and In the Eye of Modernity: Philippine Neo-Realist Masterworks, until March 14.

I just came from the media tour of both works, but they haven’t finished setting up four of the eight galleries for Thrice Upon A Time, so for the sake of fairness, I’ll have to postpone my “Score Card” blog entry until all the works are up.

Apparently, those are the ones that will have some of the “crazier” stuff that this RAT craves for.

But there are two contemporary installations I got to see: Alwin Reamillo’s installation of an actual piano, created from different leftover parts from various different pianos, as a homage to his piano-maker father. It was an idea that began from Reamillo’s stint at one of the previous Future of Imagination events in Singapore.

Then, there’s this one.

It’s an installation by a young artist named Christina Poblador comprising different bottles of “perfume”. Instead of a “sights and sounds” tour of the Philippines, this one’s an olfactory one. Individually-made bottles contain both pleasant and nasty smelling liquid stuff that’s meant to evoke whatever’s written on the witty labels.

Here’s one called Squalor (aka L’eau de Pasig).

Pasig, by the way, is the main river in Manila and was probably what the Singapore River was like three decades ago. As for how it smells, let’s just say they should call it “Eewww de Pasig.”

I won’t go through all the works but suffice it to say, it’s a veritable who’s who of the entire art history of the Philippines stretching all the way back to the 1800s.

Some historically important pieces include works by two Pinoy masters from the 19^th century.

Here’s Juan Luna’s Spain and the Philippines.

Another from Felix Resurreccion Hidalgo, The Christian Virgins Being Exposed to the Populace. That’s SAM curator Joyce Toh.

(They will be excluded from my coming “Score Card” experiment, lest my citizenship gets revoked. Hah.)

Unfortunately, there’s only one work by one of my favouritest Pinoy artists of all time, the late Onib Olmedo. And it’s not one of his better ones. But still. Here you go.

They’ve also got two 2D works from the infamous David Medalla, one of the more internationally-known Pinoy enfants terrible who’s now based in the UK and known for his performances and installations (like his “bubble machines” in the `60s). Kinda like the Filipino art scene’s Tang Dawu.

Off-hand, it looks like Joyce did a pretty good job with this impressive showcase. Although from the four galleries I saw, Thrice Upon A Time does seem to lean towards themes that are somewhat predictable (history, religion, politics).

But then again, it’s a survey and I haven’t seen the complete picture. Can’t wait to see the rest.

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PS, there’s also an ongoing exhibition on Mexican art, which will feature some biggies like Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo. More on this next time. (The Philippines, Mexico… is there a bigger theme here, like, er, Art from Former US Colonies?)

PPS, SAM will be closed on Friday and Saturday from 2pm onwards for private functions. Apparently for the benefit of the Filipino prez and Mexican first lady, and their entourage.

PPPS, the exhibitions at SAM are part of the 2009 Philippine Art Trek event, which also includes group and solo exhibitions of Filipino artists at the private galleries like Utterly Art (The Chinoy Connection, i.e. Chinese-Filipino), Valentine Willie Fine Art (Forever and ever and ever and ever), Sunjin Galleries (System Revisited by Clairelynn Uy), Artesan Gallery (Nessun Dorma by Lyra Garcellano), Galerie Joaquin (Celebration). They forgot to mention one other show by an artist I admire, Louie Cordero, which is at Osage Gallery as well. 

Tags: Alwin Reamillo, Artesan Gallery, Christina Poblador, David Medalla, Diego Rivera, Felix Resurreccion Hidalgo, Frida Kahlo, Galerie Joaquin, Installation art, Juan Luna, Louie Cordero, Onib Olmedo, Osage Gallery, Philippine art, Philippine Art Trek, Singapore Art Museum, Sunjin Galleries, Utterly Art, Valentine Willie Fine Art

Walking towards the Toa Payoh ampitheatre this afternoon to catch the third and final performance event on today’s (enforced) schedule, I thought: Aside from budgetary constraints, what’s to stop anyone from spending a whole Saturday (or Sunday) from going on an art marathon?

Couch potatoes do it. Movie freaks do it. And if you time it right, you still have time to go to Zouk. If you wanted to.

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But I digress. It’s been an interesting day, to say the least. I started it surrounded by people a third of my age and ended it surrounded by heartlanders.

Now, watching a children’s play at 11am may not be everyone’s cup of tea – particularly if you don’t have one yourself and you don’t personally know any of the cast members enough to make that penultimate sacrifice, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.

And so it was that I found myself at The Jungle Book, which was staged by SRT’s The Little Company.

It was fairly amusing (although I couldn’t help but wait expectantly for The Bare Necessities, which of course, didn’t come out) and confirms my belief that Timothy Nga, who played the tiger Shere Khan, is effective in playing silly.

Two other points.

Sitting directly in front of me was Adrian and Tracie Pang and their two kids. If children’s theatre needed a poster family, the Pangs are it. They give credence to the adage: The Family That Watches A Play Together Stays Together.

Sitting directly behind me were two imps who, during intermission, screamed in my ears. They give credence to the adage: The Family With Two Brats That Watches A Play Together Should Be Banned From Theatre.

Luckily, the heartlander families that watched Melt, Cake Theatrical Production’s free public performance at Toa Payoh were well behaved. The only crazy thing was the show itself.

The creative tagteam of Rizman Putra and Natalie Hennedige put on a Dr. Seuss-like piece that was basically five people dressed up as facial body parts running around like crazy to the uber-cool rhythms of Bloco Singapura – who were dressed like KISS members. Like I said, crazy. Now if only all public theatre performances were this out of this world.

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In between those shows was expo zero, that kicker event for TheatreWorks’ The Flying Circus Project.

I was just as curious as everyone else to find out exactly what an empty “dancing museum” was.

True enough, nothing inside TW’s 72-13 except for audiences and participants, who problematised the idea of what a “dance museum” (or in fact, a “museum”) should be.

I stayed for three hours but still missed out on TW big boss Ong Keng Sen and Indian dancer Padmini Chettur’s presentations. I also wasn’t quite sure about actor-director Yves-Noel Genod’s proposition, where he, all resplendent in pink and wearing a crocodile hat, basically took a photo of me.

Anyway, here’s one of Keng Sen having a discussion with folks beneath the lighting rig.

I caught the others, though, and they’ve all got interestingly varied approaches to the proposition. And all invariably entailed some kind of participation from the “museum visitors”.

Boris Charmatz, who concocted the whole concept, was pretty straightforward in his intentions – if not in his presentations. One of his schemes was to, erm, drag people to take charge of this so-called dance museum. “Taking charge” of course, meant, trying to replicate the dance choreography of the “museum”’s previous owner – which meant I had to memorise a simple but rather physically exhausting piece, which I would then pass on.

Design collective FARM’s Torrance Goh did a playful “hide n’ seek” with participants, encouraging them to explore the different nooks and crannies of this supposed “museum”.

Choreographer/dancer Joavien Ng turned one section of the warehouse into a space for her to recreate her tableaus, which often looked hauntingly pretty in the shadows. Here’s an interesting one.

I didn’t actually get to see dancer/choreographer Francois Chaignaud. But that’s because he was inside this literally “black box” the whole time. Lovely (albeit a bit creepy) piece where you enter this pitch-black room and hear this disembodied voice inviting you to imagine your own museum of dance… while he, erm, somewhat massages you.

Danish choreographer/dancer Mette Ingvartsen was the group’s wild card, focusing more on the “dance” aspect of the “dance museum”.

At one point, I was lying down beside her after she said she had no one to do her contact improvisation piece with. So instead, she recounted her various performances in New York. Another time, she invited a group of people to walk with her around the space – and went around a pillar around three times.

The said pillar also became part of another of her performances. A reconstruction of a previous performance, the butt-naked Mette repeatedly walked into the pillar. But gave up after a while because, in the original performance, the pillars were heavy but actually moveable.

The last time I saw her, she was all blue. Literally.

Filipino dancer/choreographer Donna Miranda, meanwhile, was upstairs at the rooftop behind TW’s actual office. Hers was part-formal confessional speech (she had it all on paper!), part- intellectual discussion and part-dance, that began with questions on just how effective dance is as a means of communication. One of her tactics was to literally translate a piece of text (if I remember correctly, it had something to do with the turn of the century invasion of the Philippines by the US) into dance.

But the most ingenious (and arguably the sneakiest) piece has got to be from artist/curator Heman Chong.

What he basically did was write a 500-word short story, which will never be published.

If you’re game enough to hear the story, you go inside this room, which will then be locked. It’ll only be opened once you memorize the story.

It’s a very interesting proposition of how a “museum” should be (a place where there is an extremely personal unfolding of knowledge and wonder – since you and you alone discover something new at that point in time. After which, it’s up to you whether or not you want to pass on this (memorized) experience).

But of course, it comes with a price. As I told him, it sounds suspiciously authoritarian. But at the same time, it’s a pretty cool concept.

But I’ve got the memory of a guppy so I didn’t take up the challenge. My fellow art journo Tara Tan was game though. Except that she didn’t know she was memorizing a 500-word piece of text. Yikes! (Note the ironically positioned ‘Exit’ sign.)

It’s a very interesting showcase. There’s one minor point I’d like to ask the organisers, though, which I had discussed with Donna and brought up briefly with Keng Sen.

expo zero centres around questions of a “dancing museum” but how come no one thought of interrogating or questioning the notion of the building-as-museum itself. That the idea of a “structure” to house “dance” (in this case, TheatreWorks’ very own 72-13) is taken as a given. It seems to me that there is freedom to explore everything, but at the same time, it all still takes place within the four walls of an implied institution.

In any case, this is probably one of the last mind-bending artistic experiences you’ll see in Singapore this year. So I urge you to drop by tomorrow (Sunday). It’ll be open until 6pm at 72-13 Mohamed Sultan Road.

Tags: Adrian Pang, Bloco Singapura, Boris Charmatz, Cake Theatrical Productions, children's play, contemporary dance, Donna Miranda, Flying Circus Project, Francois Chaignaud, Heman Chong, Joavien Ng, Melt, Mette Ingvartsen, museum, Natalie Hennedige, Ong Keng Sen, Padmini Chettur, public theatre, Rizman Putra, Singapore Repertory Theatre, Tara Tan, The Jungle Book, TheatreWorks, Timothy Nga, Tracie Pang, Yves-Noel Genod

Well, he didn’t actually say it. But it still amounts to the same thing after Singapore’s off-beat arts collective Vertical Submarine bagged the President’s Young Talents 2009 award. It was announced earlier this evening.

They may have a skewed sense of humour, but the trio consisting of (from left) Justin Loke, Fiona Koh and Joshua Yang proved they were no joke.

The People’s Choice Award went to recent YAA recipient Donna Ong.

Congratulations to the winners! The four works under the PYT exhibit are still up until Dec 27 at SAM 8Q.

Tags: contemporary art, Donna Ong, Fiona Koh, Installation art, Joshua Yang, Justin Loke, SAM 8Q, Singapore artist, Vertical Submarine

According to What? is the title of the solo show by Chinese contemporary art giant Ai Weiwei at Tokyo’s Mori Art Museum (it’s also taken from the title of an artwork by Jasper Johns).

The exhibition, which I had the chance to catch recently, is a “best-of” showcase that included the co-creator of Beijing’s Bird’s Nest stadium’s popular pieces like Fairytale – 1001 Chinese Visitors, that controversial project for 2007’s Documenta 12 that saw him place 1,001 Qing dynasty chairs all over the exhibition area as well as bring 1,001 Chinese citizens to live in Kassel, Germany, for a month (Er, they just showed the documentary video. I don’t think the museum could fit in 1,001 people.)

Maybe I had big expectations from the dude but it was a fairly underwhelming retrospective – albeit there was a certain poignancy to it considering that he was beaten up really badly in August by Chinese cops for relentlessly pursuing his art activism with regards to the 2008 Sichuan earthquake recently.

One of the newer pieces was an installation on the ceiling of a huge snake made from student’s backpacks as a requiem to the kids who had perished in the quake.

The show’s title sounds cocky, but it does ring true throughout the exhibition, as Ai subverts the long history of Chinese tradition by dipping antique vases in industrial paint, reassembling old furniture into installation pieces stripped of utilitarian purposes.

And then, you’ve got stuff like Teahouse, a house and lawn installation made from blocks of compressed pu-er tea leaves.

At this point, I shall turn to the sometimes reliable Wikipedia for a definition of installation art — “an artistic genre of site-specific, three-dimensional works designed to transform the perception of a space.”

And, ala John Berger, compare Teahouse to other photos of stuff that are not done by Ai Weiwei. Like this no-title installation at one of the Kyoto temples I visited days later.

The conic structure is made of sand (?) and was done by a Japanese painter and garden designer named Soami. Who died in 1525.

Funny how, despite belonging to different contexts (and timeframes), they’re both cordoned off. And to stand in front of both, there’s the price of an admission ticket.

And then here’s another “site-specific”, “three-dimensional work” that transformed the perception of the space.

It’s not a Readymade. It’s a simple walking stick and a new-looking hat left in some ulu bus stop in the middle of a quiet village near Oji.

It’s not cordoned off and it’s not part of an exhibition. But I didn’t dare touch it. It also reminded me of Tang Dawu’s Axe installation at The Artists’ Village retrospective at SAM. Like the Axe, it was placed at a corner.

And then, finally, this Japanese shrine at Miyajima, an island off Hiroshima.

Stripped of its religious significance or touristic value, it’s also a “site-specific”, “three-dimensional work” that makes you go, ala Bill (or Ted), “woooah, dude”.

It’s stuck in the middle of the bay. By day, when the tide recedes, it stands on sandy soil.

And when the tide comes in at night, it has the impression of floating on water – made all the more dramatic by the spotlight that shines on it. Like a true-blue installation piece. But you don’t have to pay to see it. Or touch it in the daytime, for that matter.

Installation art? According to what, indeed. 

Tags: According To What?, Ai Weiwei, Documenta 12, Fairytale -- 1001 Chinese Visitors, Installation art, Japanese shrine, Jasper Johns, Kassel, Kyoto, landscape art, Miyajima, Mori Art Museum, Sichuan earthquake, Soami, Tang Dawu, Teahouse, Tokyo

Bienvenue, mon amoureux du théâtre!

(Apparently, that means “Welcome, my fellow theatre lovers” in French. Thanks, Google Translate.)

So what’s with the Gallic intro? Well, last week, I caught some theatre folks acting all, ahehe, gelek.

Rehearsing for Zebra Crossing’s upcoming musical Victor/Victoria!

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Wah, horn section and flying dancers has got Filomar Tariao amazed.

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Pre-rehearsal run powow — short of holding hands and singing Kumbaya.

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Fancy props. Note: the trademark zebra print silk robe.

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Director Loretta Chen. She was really “on” during the rehearsal.

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A typo! Sorry, couldn’t resist.

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And now, the videos.

Here are some snippets.

Here are some shameless plugging by some of the musical’s denizens. They sometimes go by the names Jake Macapagal, Nicole Stinton, Shane Mardjuki and Claude Girardi. But not this time.

(Victor/Victoria runs from Nov 9 to 29 at the Esplanade Theatre. For ticket details visit Sistic.)

Tags: Claude Girardi, Filomar Tariao, Jake Macapagal, Laura Fyigi, Loretta Chen, musical, Nicole Stinton, Shane Mardjuki, Singapore theatre, Victor/Victoria, Zebra Crossing

Man, this has to be a milestone of sorts.

Three and a half of the five recipients are film-makers.

I say “and a half” because Ho Tzu Nyen –  notwithstanding his participation in the Asia Pacific Triennale with fellow Singaporean Cheo Chai-Hiang in December – has recently been doing the rounds of film festivals with HERE and Earth.

So really, you’ve got four film-makers – Tzu Nyen, Boo Junfeng, Anthony Chen, Han Yew Kwang – and… Donna Ong.

I’m not complaining about this year’s film-heavy batch of recipients. I’m a vocal admirer of some of them – and my colleague, Miss Flick Chick had cited Tzu Nyen and Junfeng as those belonging to the “new wave” of film-makers in an article not long ago.

But it does make you wonder why. Or rather, wonder what this all means.

Looking down the list, the most number of recipients for a category is two.

Except 2006, I guess, when along with Beatrice Chia-Richmond and Chong Tze Chien, there was Yo Shao Ann who got it for “technical theatre”.

Even then, there were recipients from at least two other fields to sort of, uhm, balance out the disparity.

But this is, like, an almost-clean sweep, yo.

Visual artist Michael Lee, himself a 2005 YAA recipient, sent me a link to his Facebook account. He basically wrote down a hilarious list of reasons why some deserving artists didn’t get it.

Along with the funny (“They have children”; “They don’t smile often enough”) are the practical and obvious ones (“They waited patiently to be nominated instead of actively finding a nominator” – Yes, reality check. That’s how these things work, even if you’re a genius.)

So were the visual artists too lazy to push for their own peers? (Didn’t Ming Wong surprise everyone by winning at the Venice Biennale?)

Were the theatre peeps too busy rehearsing? (It’s the first time since 2004 that there aren’t any YAAs from theatre.)

Is the dance scene finally scraping the bottom of the barrel?

Pop musicians? Let’s not even go there. (Let’s see if colleague/blogger The Abang of the Airwaves has got something to say regarding this.)

Or maybe it’s simply because this is the year of film-makers?

The National Arts Council is not releasing a breakdown of how many nominees it received per field.

But they did get a total of 29 submissions (around the usual numbers) for the now four “broad categories” of literary arts, performing arts, visual arts and film.

From what I understand, the council isn’t conscious about equal representation. After all, if you’re good, you’re good. And a lot of people think you’re worth lobbying for.

But really now, three and a half?  Wow.

One can only surmise that YAA 2009 is a “catch-up” year. After all, there have only been four film-makers among the 91 96 YAA recipients. (And no, Jack Neo isn’t one of them. He went straight for the Medallion.)

It’s no secret that the government has been looking more intensely at beefing up the film-making scene here.

I won’t be surprised if this whole “long live Singapore cinema” thrust – and overall environment that’s cultivating film-makers — would have, consciously or otherwise, something to do with the make-up of this year’s list.

The YAA is about the institutional acknowledgement of an artist’s creative efforts.

This year, it’s an institutional acknowledgement of an entire field’s creativity.

But hmm, don’t you think it could have been done way, way earlier?

Any thoughts?

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PS, I had already formed my thoughts on this particular post before Michael brought up certain important points that’s worth thinking about too.

Inasmuch as this year’s list seems to signal a kind of out-and-out “welcoming into the fold” (”Oh yah, film-makers, they’re artists too!), an act of inclusion, let’s not forgot the other side of the coin — what has, inadvertently or otherwise, been excluded.

I’m listing down some of Michael’s points which I agree with.

1. Art collectives. There have been none.

2. Other people that make up the arts environment, like curators. Although, it’s good to point out that the theatre folks have got one recipient for technical theatre.

3. The age criteria. As Michael rightly points out, some artists peak much later than 35.

Tags: Anthony Chen, art collectives, Asia Pacific Triennale, Beatrice Chia-Richmond, Boo Junfeng, Cheo Chai Hiang, Chong Tze Chien, Donna Ong, Han Yew Kwang, Ho Tzu Nyen, Jack Neo, Michael Lee, Ming Wong, Singapore artist, Singapore film, Yo Shao Ann, Young Artist Award

It’s not often we get to talk to Russian thespians. It’s even more rare we get to talk to Russian thespians about sofas.

But now we’ve got both in the theatre production Sofaman, a collaboration between The Necessary Stage and Russian group Theatre KnAM.

TNS director Alvin Tan was kind enough to share a couple of pictures he took of their rehearsal stint in Russia in June.

Here’s one of the gang in front of a coconut tree. A fake one.

Here’s another of the gang taking a break. Why is it in sepia? To signify ulu-ness?

Anyway, here’s the BRAT Questionnaire I sent to Alvin and co-director Tatiana Frolova. It’s pretty earth-shaking stuff.

After all, we aspire to ask all the hard and sofa questions. Snort.

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What’s the Russian word for sofa?

Tania: диван (divan)

Hmmm, okay… divan it is. Sofaman sounds like it could be the name of a superhero character. If it was, how would he/she look like and what would be his/her powers?

Tania: He is a huge man on a wheelchair with a projector on his head.  His power is the ability to keep still and control the lives of others by telling stories. Quite powerful and unique, no?

Not really, leh. That’s, like, what a television does. Or a book. Anyway, do you have a sofa yourself?

Tania: Theatre KnAM has one sofa in the kitchen. KnAM’s sofa is hard. We want a soft one but we believe it is not good for work.  They prefer a sofa for work.

Alvin: One of TNS’ sofas is blue and has one leg broken after we’ve used it for several productions.  The other is a huge white one in our meeting room. Both are from Ikea.

How many hours do you spend on it?

Tania: In general, we spend very little time on sofa only when we have guests/friends who rest on it. 

Alvin: About an average of 4  hours a week strictly for meetings during office hours.

Meetings? Resting? Sure or not?

Alvin: The Russians gave me the “what do you think?” look.

So how do Russian sofas compare to Singapore sofas?

Tania: TK’s sofa is army-style.  It is 25 years old, and has been there since Theatre KnAM started out.  We have not made any changes to it. Very good quality/condition. Very durable/strong.  It is made by Soviet industry. It is very hardy, long-lasting and reliable.  Whereas for Singapore…

Ouch! Or should we say… Couch! In your expert opinion, what makes an extremely good sofa?

Tania: Comfortable, reliable and well designed. It must have a long-life. It must be medium size; not too big nor too small. However, it would be nice to have a sofa that can transform, a kind of sofabed.  And it should have some storage space underneath.

Where does it rank among the other great furniture in history, like say, the chair or the cupboard?

Tania: The sofa is more important than a chair or cupboard.  The Russians mostly adore sofa in their houses.  There are many shops selling divans. Kom have lots of furniture shops and they all have different sorts of sofas: different colour, price, design and quality.  Sofa and table are very, very important furniture items in a Russian home. Sofa ranks very high for the Russians. The standard Russian flat or apartment is small, so people must choose what to have in them. Sofa, table, wardrobe and TV set.  But sofa must always be present. Usually they might even have two or three sofas.  For the night time, they are usually transformed to sofabeds for the children to sleep on.

Actually hor, who plays Sofaman?

Tania: Vladimir Dmitriev

Is he a huge man on a wheelchair with a projector on his head? What’s the difference between a sofa and a couch?

Alvin: So far so good until this question! In Russia, a couch is a furniture item for official purposes like state organisations. It is not comfortable. Although for some, there is no difference between a sofa and a couch (I checked the dictionary). Both the Russians and us agree that psychologically, a sofa is more people-friendly. It is connotes warmness and coziness whilst a couch has official and/or medical associations.

Actually, hor, why not CouchMan? You know, couch potato, Russian potato salad, the fact that Peter the Great supposedly introduced the potato…

Alvin: That would have been too obvious, too blatant, too singular an interpretation, dear Mayo.  CouchMan would narrow the interpretation and audience would come to the show with too strong an idea and we have to do extra work to erase or undo that from their minds. Sofaman is a new coined word which has no strong established associations and is therefore more open to interpretations.

Okay, point taken. Although Mayo isn’t here now, that’s why I’m the one asking questions. Sofas play an important role in a pop culture stuff: the infamous one in The Cranberries’ albums, Freud’s couch, Oprah Winfrey’s couch where Tom Cruise jumped up and down… So, what’s the most famous couch in the entire history of world theatre?

Tania: For Russian theatre, the most important sofa is Oblomov’s sofa. It is symbol of Russian character who likes to speak about a lot of things (all issues and problems) but don’t want to move.  NATO: No Action, Talk Only.  He likes to lie on the sofa. Life of Oblomov was spent most of the time on a sofa. He missed childhood, love, war, economic and political change cos he was on the sofa (inertia and apathy).  However, because he did not act on anything, he also did not harm or hurt anyone.

Hmm, sounds very much like a Singaporean. Har har. Will there be a sofa on the set of Sofaman?

Tania: Come and see for yourself.

Definitely. So if there is, is Ikea the sponsor? Then can be, like, Singapore-Russia-Sweden co-production.

Tania: Am I Diana Ross?

(Sofaman runs from Nov 5 to 15 at The Necessary Stage Black Box. Tickets at $27 from Sistic.)

Tags: Alvin Tan, couch, Freud, Ikea, Life of Oblomov, Oprah Winfrey, Russian furniture, Singapore theatre, sofa, Sofaman, Tatiana Frolova, The Cranberries, The Necessary Stage, Theatre KnAM, Tom Cruise

A quick shout out to this year’s recipients.

New Blood (aka Young Artist Awardists) — film-makers Boo Junfeng, Anthony Chen Zheyi and Han Yew Kwang, and visual artists Ho Tzu Nyen and Donna Ong.

Venerables (aka Cultural Medallionists) — visual artist Ang Ah Tee, dance choreographer and Arts Fission co-founder Angela Liong, Chinese writer Tham Yew Chin and Singapore Symphony Orchestra’s musical director Lan Shui.

So where’s the after-after partay?