nowiswere issue 13

C o n t e m p o r a r y A r t M a g a z i n e

D e c e m b e r 2 0 1 3 / I s s u e N r. 1 3

NOWISWERE

Nowiswere was founded by Veronika Hauer and Fatos Ustek in London in January 2008.Copyrights of the magazine are the property of Veronika Hauer. All rights of the contributions are the property of their contributors.

Impressum:Editor: Veronika HauerEditorial Board: Adeena Mey, Margit Neuhold, Martina Steckholzer. Layout: Veronika HauerWebdesign: Erwin Schober

Contributors to this issue: Orianna Cacchione, Maria do Carmo M. P. de Pontes, Kate O’Hara, Sils (exhibition & project space) Rotterdam.

Thanks to Mary Jane Miltner for her editorial comments and proofreading.

[email protected]

Cover Mao Soviet, I am not am artist, 2013.

Cover Layout Design, Veronika Hauer 2013.

Attempts to Re-write a Public in

Beijing

Orianna Cacchione

....................................................................................... 4

the Sils mythology

Sils, Rotterdam

....................................................................................12

Seven days in Roveredo

Maria do Carmo M. P. de Pontes

...................................................................................22

Some thoughts on space while working

with artists from Battambang,

Cambodia

Kate O’Hara

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Contributors

....................................................................................38

CoNTeNT

Attempts to Re-write a

Public in Beijing

Preface. Apparently I am writing too late, as I am

told alternative art spaces in China were a hot topic

two years ago. I am also writing from the inside,

occluding my critical distance and making this text

difficult even to know how to begin. I am writing about

an “artist-run project space” in Beijing – HomeShop.

A space where I am a sometime organizer, editor-

at-larger, baker and desk renter. This proliferation of

roles is telling of the space’s organizational fluidity,

which expands and contracts, remains undefined, and

concealed between emails, meetings, and discussions

over dinner into late nights, but also my authority to

speak of the space with a first hand account from

within the space itself. Thus I must disclose, what

follows are only propositions, not conclusions, which

provide a brief tracing of a space namely HomeShop as

I have both experienced and inevitably mythologized

with that of the development of alternative art spaces

in Beijing.

What does alternative in relation to art

stand for? In broad strokes, one could argue

that the development of “experimental” or avant-

garde art in China after the Cultural Revolution

has always, already occurred in alternative spaces,

meaning spaces outside of the official exhibition

venues controlled by the Chinese government and its

propaganda departments. Freed from socialist realism,

the sole government sanctioned style of art, artists

began to experiment with Western modern styles

and traditional Chinese ink painting in both the re-

opened art academies and amateur artist groups after

1976. However, finding venues to exhibit their work

was problematic. At the time, all exhibition spaces in

China were controlled by the Chinese government –

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< Pages 4/5: HomeShop, Closing Ceremony, 2008. Photo: Jeroen Dekloet.

Orianna Cacchione

state museums, art academy galleries, and exhibition

halls. The now notorious 1979 exhibition of The Stars

Group illustrates the conflicting desires between the

emergent experimental artists and the approval of

official exhibition venues. Originally planned to be

held at the National Art Museum of China in Beijing,

the group was denied permission to exhibit their

works in the museum’s galleries. On the exhibition’s

scheduled opening date, the artists brazenly hung

140 of their works outside on the museum’s exterior

fence. Drawing a crowd, the exhibition was taken

down by police.

Exhibitions into public space expanded through the

1980s. The ’85 New Wave Movement sought to re-

imagine the relationship between art and the public.

No longer out of necessity, installing art in public

space was meant to startle the public, presenting

something strange, out of the ordinary. In 1986,

the Pond Society’s first group activity took place in

Hangzhou. The group hung twelve paper cuts each

with a diagram of a different tai chi program along a

wall on Nianshan Road. The work was intended as a

dialogue between the artists and the people walking

along the street.1

As the ’85 New Wave’s activities burnt out and a

new generation of artists came of age after 1989,

the development of Apartment Art began in cities

throughout China but most notably in Beijing.

During this time, government censorship tightened

its control of official exhibition spaces. In order to

continue to make experimental art, artists began to

1 See Gao Minglu, Total Modernity and the Avant-Garde in Twentieth-Century Chinese Art, (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2012) p. 241.

turn their living spaces into immersive installations,

exhibition spaces, and performance venues. This

turning in was a decisive retreat from the public

and yet at the same time, the first solidification

of a concept of “alternative” space in China. And

so a polarity between public and private emerged

within contemporary art – as alternative spaces

moved inside, so too did their relation to the public,

whereas not only the apartment but also much

of the work exhibited was domesticated, often

emphasizing small, personal, everyday actions.

These spaces were quickly drowned out by the

unrelenting wave of the international art market

and the establishment of commercial art galleries.

In the early 1990s, the first private art galleries

were opened, often by expats. As the market for

contemporary Chinese art abroad expanded in the

late 1990s, commercial art galleries proliferated and

dominated the exhibition of art in China by the early

2000s. Gallery spaces were established in 798, now

an official cultural zone, before a former weapons

factory on the outskirts of Beijing. Once occupied

by studios, most artists have been priced out as the

area has genetrified. A recent wave of “alternative”

spaces in Beijing and throughout China has steadily

emerged since 2008 to counteract this trend; and

one space out of a few, which gained visibility on an

international scale, is HomeShop.

Enter HomeShop. It was founded in 2008 by

artist, Elaine W. Ho. The original space occupied a

single room storefront along a hutong in Beijing’s

Gulou neighborhood. The space was public and

private, lived in and worked in, on display and

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HomeShop, Beiertiao Leaks, 2010. Photo: Elaine W. Ho8

to be participated with – white blinds providing a

permeable divide between the space and the alleyway.

And from this space, a series of interventions, events

and collaborations began.

Case Study One - Series Number One: Games

2008. Counting down to the 2008 Olympic Games’

Closing Ceremony, a series of events were initiated

for the neighbors of HomeShop who could only

access the Games as television spectators. The series

inverted the official rhetoric of the countdown to

the Games and provided a site of participation for

those priced out of actually going to see the matches,

races, and other events. Each night of the games, a

different artist organized an activity, including a video

game competition, medals awarded to those with the

lowest score.

HomeShop’s intervention into the exhibition

apparatus in Beijing goes beyond finding a viable

alternative to commercial art galleries. As Series One

demonstrates, the public/private divide is not only

considered as occurring between the intimate space

of the home and the public alleyway or the domestic

and the productive workplace, but instead is mediated

through a series of participatory events. For me, this

intervention occurs precisely at the moment when

alternative space became private space in the history

of contemporary Chinese art with the Apartment

Art movement. Situated within a public/commercial

space (the storefront) turned private (the home), it

reconsiders the relations between the alternative and

private space established by the Apartment Art artists

in the early 1990s. However occupying public space,

HomeShop revisits the ’85 New Wave reconsideration

of the relationship between contemporary art,

extending this relationship through participation.

In 2010, HomeShop moved to a new space on

Jiaodaokou Beiertiao Hutong. Now organized by

a group of seven artists and theorists, HomeShop

initiated a co-working model with shared, public

workspace along side its collaborative practice. The

space retained the original’s storefront, but expanded

into a courtyard surrounded by a kitchen, three

studios and a large-communal office. The projects

continued an interrogation of public and private

Case Study Two: Beiertiao Leaks (2010). In lieu of

an opening for the new space, HomeShop recruited

visitors to play the role of journalists, venturing into

the surrounding neighborhood to find a “scoop.”

The articles were translated (into English or into

Chinese) and printed in the first edition of Beiertiao

Leaks, available free. Writing copy for the broadsheet,

participants discovered the fabric of the neighborhood

through discussions with neighbors and walks along

the labyrinth hutongs, but conversely introduced the

space to the neighbors as their experience became

what was reported on.

Neighborly participation begins to undo the duality

between the public and the private, shifting the

focus away from turning the private inside out.

Exchanging gossip, plant growing techniques, morning

greetings are drawn into the space of HomeShop

and into its artistic practice while the space itself is

increasingly visible along the alleyway – emphasizing

the participatory aspect of the public. I hope to turn

our attention to the role of participation within the

Chinese public sphere. Since the founding of the

People’s Republic of China, public space resides in the

parks and the squares. The parks acting as a space of

not only leisure but also camaraderie. The squares act

as a site of political spectacle, however, a spectacle that

is always only viewed. In China, political participation

has increasingly taken form in micro-interventions,

everyday actions, and on Weibo (Chinese twitter)

– how do these small actions begin to re-write the

public?

Case Study Three: Question. A box hung outside

on the chalk board announcement board asks for

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10HomeShop, Questions. Photo: Michael Eddy

questions from passersby. Each day a new question is

written on the board. Often answers are filled in. The

questions range from metaphysical to practical – If

you could be any being, which being would you be?

What is bravery? What is happening in Egypt? What’s

happening in your life?

HomeShop began as a storefront residence and artist

initiative in Beijing 2008. Located in the centre of the

city on one of its old hutong alleyways, the space and its

window front are used as the beginning points from which

to examine ways of relaying between public and private, the

commercial and pure exchange as such. Artists, designers

and thinkers come together via multiple, interwoven series

of small-scale activities, interventions and documentary

gestures, processes by which HomeShop serves as an

open platform to question existing models of economic

and artistic production. Daily life, work and the community

become explorations of micropolitical possibility, and of

working together.

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the Sils mythology

birth story

sold

Mauritstraat 1793012 CH Rotterdam

06-2888 23 53010 - 477 02 [email protected]

kledingpompatelier

voor al uw kledingreparaties en aanpassingen

maestro

NEWOCEAN

PARADISE

PARHAVEN 213016 GM ROTTERDAM

TEL: 010-225005FAX: 010-4366952

Zorgen voor jezelf is topsport‘Familieleden en naasten van mensen met psychische problemen’

Psychische GezondheidO.a. voormlig toptennisser Paul Haarhuis vertelt hoe hij de zorg

voor zijn kind met autisme met zorgen voor zichzelf om topfit de zijn.

Locatie: Citykerk Het Steiger

1e Nieuwestraathof 2, Rotterdam (nabij Hoogstraat)

Informatie en aanmelden:Context Rijnmond www.context.nl

088-357 1700 of [email protected]

Sils is an exhibition & project space located in the port city of Rotterdam, The Netherlands and inspired by its namesake, the small mountain village Sils-maria found in Switzerland. We decided upon Sils as the name for

our project space back in the winter of 2009/10; its meaning remains to be continually defined and like the shade of white, Sils reflects all the colors and contributions from the artists who we invite and gather to it.The desire to gather and form Sils emerged primarily from an observed gap within the Rotterdam art scene. Our aim is to fill this gap by creating a vibrant non-

commercial gallery, artist/curator-run space, curating a program with a national and international outlook. In addition to programming exhibitions, we are also interested in establishing connections with similar spaces in other cities. Just

as the mountain village of Sils has historically hosted Nietzsche, Bowie, Richter and others alike for periods of thought, act and creativity, so does Sils, in the flat water city of Rotterdam, strive and desire to be a ‘moving’ space; equally being host and providing support to artists who experiment, perform,

play and expand the frames of their practice.

Seven days in Roveredo

Day 3

Everyone is either a horse, a bird or a doughnut. These characteristics might be combined, allowing a person to be a horse-bird, for instance, or a double-doughnut – the only category that can be repeated. To be classified as a double-doughnut is a top honour and, to this day, I’ve only met two people who could be described as such – though I’m now having second thoughts about one of them, as his attitude has changed notably since he became a parent. You don’t get to choose what you are yourself, and it takes the agreement of at least two judges to reach a verdict. I, it was decided, am a horse, a very small kind of horse, like a pony.

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I had spent the last couple of days observing my fellow residents, trying to decide whether their essence consisted of birdness, horseness or doughnutness – or yet, all those three combined, an exquisite blend I’ve been searching for a long time. I was tempted to believe that Chan-Young Ramert was a bird, Max Ruf a horse – or perhaps a horse-bird – Emanuel Röhss a doughnut-bird – similarly to Jan Kiefer, whom I identified as a bird-doughnut, Elise Lammer a bird-horse and Pauline Beaudemont a horse. I only had to wait for Benjamin Orlow (a bird who is familiar with this system) to arrive from New York and validate my initial impressions. After joining us and spending some time in the house, Benjamin came up with the final verdict for Max’s categorisation as a bird – a bit to my disappointment, as I had detected some horseness in him. He then agreed with the other’s conclusions. Conveniently, the discussion was held on a rainy afternoon, after we had savoured horse steaks.

Maria do Carmo M. P. de Pontes

Day 5

Snails are quite active in spring and autumn. In response to extreme weather conditions, they aestivate during summer and hibernate throughout winter. To eat wild ones, you first have to hunt them – which was no challenge, as they were rather prostrate in 35 degrees Roveredo. Once captured, you must spoil the snails for at least a week, taking care of their diet while bearing in mind that whatever they eat, will inevitably be digested by ones own body.

We collected 37 snails – considering that only five out of eight of us had non-vegan habits – calculating six per person while taking into account that, like tamagochis or gold fishes, some might die prematurely. We then took the molluscs from the canvas bag and put them in a transparent plastic recipient, fed them with herbs and vegetables from the garden and kept them in captivity by closing the Tupperware with some old tights we found in the house. Every day we would bath them in water and wine, so as to cleanse

them and enrich their flavour.

There are two ways of killing snails. Both involve shock caused by an abrupt change of temperature. Less than three days after we’d started cultivating the molluscs, having no time to wait for the recommended week, we decided to prepare them for dinner. Four didn’t make it. We washed the remaining ones thoroughly and placed them in boiling water for five minutes, drained them in cold water for another couple of minutes and removed them from their shells with a toothpick. We then cooked them for another hour in a fine stock, and finalised the dish by baking them for 20 minutes in a mixture of butter, garlic, parsley and blue-cheese, serving the dish with Elise’s homemade bread.

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Day 2

We were all aware of the fragile health of Lucie, the old dog living at the Lammer’s house. Constantly bullied by Uma, the cat, Lucie – a very small Jack Russell – spent most of her time indoors, lying on the black marble floor to shelter from the heat. We were especially concerned about Lucie’s reaction to the upcoming Swiss National Day, usually celebrated by shooting fireworks. We feared that the whole spectacle of light and sound could be too much for Lucie’s weak heart. After several unsuccessful attempts to interact with the dog, we decided to take drastic measures and took her to the lake for a swim, thinking some action would lighten up the dog’s rather uneventful life. Emanuel carefully took her into his arms – a truly doughnut-bird gesture – and started the journey down the mountain where the house is located. Lucie seemed to be enjoying the promenade, but the feeling didn’t last long. Upon arriving at the lake, she saw a youthful Saint-Bernard running wildly around the rocks. The shock of facing such a monstrous, yet similar creature, lead into catastrophe. Lucie had a heart-attack and didn’t survive to see what would have been her 17th celebration of the National Day.

Day 6

On the occasion of the highly expected August 1st, a large arsenal of fireworks awaited us in the local technique. There were different attitudes towards shooting fireworks among the residents, ranging from super enthusiastics and sympathisers, to blasés and those who despised the act (I’ve tried to find a connection between birds, horses, doughnuts and their relationship to fireworks, but my attempt failed).

As the night fell, we finished our last supper together – with the additional presence of notorious guests Fabian Schöneich, Samuel Leuenberger, Raphael Linsi and Stefanie Salzmann – and prepared for the fireworks. It began timidly, with a few small and innocent explosives that we threw on the floor and at each other. People quickly started to lose their reticence and went for the real stuff. It was a true choreography of colours, shades, shapes and sparks, exploding one after the other like peonies in the sky.

After shooting the biggest rocket, a yellow-turning-orange one, Jan raised his glass, honouring Lucie’s memory.

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Day 4

I was floating on a beautiful lake, surrounded by high mountains covered with snow on one side and wild vegetation on the other. The water was clear and ice cold, but the hot sun provided an overall enjoyable temperature. I was happily swimming from one end to the other, trying to keep my head underwater as long as possible in order to appreciate the lake’s wild-life. I could spot small and medium-sized fish, random lost objects, diverse algae and one or other crayfish. Every time I immersed my head in the water, I could see more and more crayfish, and they were getting bigger and pinker. I was quickly surrounded by several of them, all invariably rosé. As I rapidly swam out of the water, I realised I was in Ipanema beach, and all the elements surrounding me – the sand, the people, the volleyballs – were of a different shade of fuchsia. I saw a bunch of pink flamingos and started following the birds as, in their undoubtful pinkness, they seemed to be the only thing I could rely on. They

invited me to fly with them and every time I blinked, I would find myself in a different location: Budapest with its fuchsia Danube; Reykjavik at a pink sunrise; the temple of Luxor in its majestic redness. The birds left me in Machu-Picchu, where I found the ruins of the grey city covered with pink orchids – tons of them. Then I was approached by a stunning Incan lady who offered me a coral box and, while I struggled to open it, a strong sunray blinded my eyes. There again, I was in Roveredo, glad that Elise and Pauline’s pink and round dinner from the previous night triggered such a technicoloured dream.

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Day 7

We achieved the residency’s ultimate goal of plentiful self-indulgence. We had been having exotic and amazing meals for the past few days and now, on the very last morning, there was nothing left to eat. Not a bite. The house was impregnated by a sour smell of cigarette butts, sweat and wine, very different from the fresh morning breeze we’ve had the other mornings. I searched the kitchen units without much hope of finding anything tasty and grabbed some instant coffee, which I normally despise, but would do its job given my hangover. I left the house to explore the garden, thinking that perhaps I would be luckier outdoors. In the vegetable patch, there was nothing but herbs and leaves, and a brown fat rabbit eating them. We stared at each other for a moment while I was considering whether I should chase it or not. It disappeared before I could make up my mind. I went up to the vineyard to pick some grapes; they were not exactly ripe but that was better than nothing. It was time to leave.

Day 1

You actually can eat until you die. Your stomach expands to the point where it ruptures and plunges hydrochloric acid into your intestines, killing you with a lethal infection known as sepsis. Normally you would stop eating or puke before this happens, as this is a long and painful process that takes a lot of stubbornness to be carried through to the end. Such a terminal and yet fascinating inversion of values, where one meets death within the most pleasurable of carnal extravagances, kept popping in my mind upon arriving at Kunsthalle Roveredo’s gastronomic-oriented residency. And so, with birds, doughnuts and horses, began the grande bouffe.

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Maria do Carmo M. P. de Pontes is a São Paulo born independent curator and writer based in London. Between July 27th and August 2nd 2013 she took part in Kunsthalle Roveredo’s first edition, a residency hosted by Swiss curator Elise Lammer, alongside artists Pauline Beaudemont (France), Jan Kiefer (Germany), Benjamin Orlow (Finland), Emanuel Röhss (Sweden) and Max Ruf (Germany), as well as graphic designer Chan-Young Ramert (Germany).

IMAGE CREDITS Pages 22, 23, 24, 25, 27 and 28 by Pauline Beaudemont, 2013 Page 26 by Fabian Schöneich, 2013

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Space around the object

In a field in Battambang, Cambodia, an artwork is burning. In the foreground - an artist is holding a sign which reads “I am not an artist”. Is it a reference to Magritte’s This is not a Pipe (1929)? This is the first thing that pops into my mind. It is striking, whether you’re familiar with the current context or not.

When it appeared on Facebook I was among other friends of artist Mao Soviet to suggest this reference. Does it matter whether he know this reference or not? Who is this message for?

The burning object is actually The Nest (2011), a large round-netted ball, which was made as a class project of Phare Ponleu Selpak Visual Art School in Battambang from broken material of the popular annual Giant Mask Parade held in Siem Reap.

Some thoughts on space while working with artists from Battambang, Cambodia

Mao Soviet, I am not am artist, performance, 2013.Courtesy the artist.

Kate O’Hara

For a month or so it sat in front of Make Maek (Its tagline: Make art while the sun shines), the art space founded by Mao. Unfortunately it “arrived at the wrong place”, outside the gallery. It was not considered very valuable by the school, especially after being rolled into the field and set on fire. – “It did not arrive at a place of success” says Mao. He often burns his own artwork which he deems unsuccessful and starts anew. He told me he wanted to see what it felt like to burn someone else’s work. When asked how it felt, he said “hot” with a laugh. This work was made just as Cambodian art reached a critical level of ‘success’ with a selected group of artists being shown in major institutions across New York. The Season of Cambodia (SOC) festival was produced by the organization Cambodian Living Arts, the show stealer being Sopheap Pich’s solo installation exhibition, made similarly to Mao’s in rattan, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.1

A selected group of artists (the majority based in the capital Phnom Penh and a couple who work in Siem Reap), were propelled to the international stage2 by various projects in SOC, opening up further opportunities with their momentum. How do the artists outside this privileged space engage with the phenomenon or not? What is this privileged space?

Mao’s gesture in I am not an artist may be seen as a direct response to this phenomenon. However, I believe it flirts with larger questions about how a

1 Season of Cambodia was a showcase of music, dance, theatre as well visual arts from Cambodia, taking place across different venues in New York in April and May 2013. See http://seasonofcambodia.org/Also worth noting, this work was also made around the time it became clear that there would be no Cambodian art in the Guggenheim’s first South East Asian exhibition “No Country…” At least for its first iteration at the Guggenheim before it tours. Cambodian work has since been acquired for further iteration of the exhibition in other major cities.

2 It is noted that artists participating in the Visual Arts program of SOC also participated in various other international exhibitions and projects. In saying this I mean to highlight even more the revered institutional stage of the platforms that hosted these artists.

matrix of critical value operates. Mao works alongside other artists, from Battambang, who are exploring the mechanism of politics and occupation in and of space both of the art world and beyond. It is perhaps worth noting that right now in Cambodia this discourse is occurring amidst a growing dissatisfaction with the autocratic government of the last 28 years. The population is becoming more vocal about a mode of governance that privileges the few and marginalises the needs of the majority. If this changing political situation does not over determine critical discussions in the artistic sphere, there seems to be an analogous movement in the arts towards a critical engagement regarding the system they are part of or left behind by.

What I will focus on here is the space of communication around the work by Battambang artists and how it operates or doesn’t, depending on different agendas, through the lens of several artworks and projects from artists living and working in Battambang, along with different reflections on space as they unfold through their work.

History of space – history outside of space

For the past two years I have been working with artists from Battambang province in the North West of Cambodia in my capacity as curator for Romeet Contemporary Art Space based in the capital, Phnom Penh. Having been in Cambodia for two years prior to this job, this was my first proper encounter with the emerging scene in the second largest city in Cambodia. I actually took my first trip to Battambang when I started this position.

Romeet opened in October 2011. It was founded by the art school and social centre Phare Ponleu Selpak (meaning “the brightness of art”) based in Battambang. Before I describe the history of PPS, which is integral to the space it occupies now, let me give a brief overview of the gallery scene in the capital at the time.

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When we opened our doors, a number of new galleries were establishing themselves in response to the growing number of artists, a growing local and international audience; Sasa Bassac and Top Art gallery being a couple of them. They joined the mainstays of the past decade, Javaarts, Institut Français and Reyum Institute (the latter not being so active in recent years). This growing interest in the arts and the emergence of an infantile art market has undoubtedly been supported by the rapid development and globalisation of the economy of Cambodia. More buyers are interested in this budding art market alongside an increasing number of international institutional and art fair research trips with a focus on South East Asian art as the next market.

At that time, Phare Ponleu Selpak had seen four generations of artists graduate from the school and was looking to support the artists it had produced as well as Cambodian arts and culture and capitalise on the growing interest based in the capital. It was with this in mind that Romeet was opened in Phnom Penh.

If we were to look at it cynically, Phnom Penh is the centre and Battambang is the periphery, off the cultural map, if not in the psyche. It is sometimes described as a quaint provincial village, but relatively speaking, it is the second biggest city in Cambodia. In terms of cultural production it wasn’t always the case. Before the civil war and the Khmer Rouge period it was often referred to as the cultural capital, with many famous performers and artists hailing from Battambang. In conversations it is often romanticised as the place where the most beautiful Cambodians are from. It is after 1979, in the post-Khmer Rouge period, that Phare Ponleu Selpak’s creation myth begins.

In the 1980’s many Cambodian refugee camps were established just across the border in Thailand. In 1986, a young French woman, Véronique Decrop, arrived in Site 2 refugee camp and began teaching art to some of the children there, offering them lollies as a reward for good work. At the same time, other cultural performances occurred. Amongst them, one of the

later founders of Phare Ponleu Selpak, Srey Bandaul, then a child, created shadow puppet performances in exchange for wood so that his family could cook their meals. Decrop’s informal lessons took place on and off for the next eight years. Upon repatriation of those living in the camp to Cambodia in 1992, nine of the young students3 of Decrop decided to create a visual art school in Battambang, which would provide free education. A piece of land was bought and the school officially opened under the name Phare Ponleu Selpak in 1994 with the students of Decrop becoming the teachers.4

In the past 19 years the school has grown into an art centre that hosts over 1300 students a day offering training in the visual arts, theatre, music, circus and dance, as well as providing several auxiliary vocational and production platforms in the performing and visual arts, Romeet being one of them. Operating as an Non Governmental Organization, on an occasionally shoe-string budget, the school has sometimes supported the engagement of its students in projects aiming to raise awareness on issues ranging from gender equality, human rights and environmental sustainability. In some ways a double cultural cringe can be said to have manifested itself around its NGO status and participation in NGO funded awareness projects. At this point in time the pedagogy and curriculum is undergoing a transition to increase in the diversity of subjects offered and a focus on local and international accreditation of the visual arts course to enable potential further study of alumni. However, it can be argued that the artists who graduated who were part of this milieu have had a keen education and show a strong interest in social equity and this manifests itself critically in their work.

Prior to starting work with PPS I had heard critical discussions about this from others working in the arts. Amongst these was the suggestion that Battambang artists needed to learn art history (History mostly

3 Including artists Srey Bandaul, Tor Vutha, Khuon Det, Lon Lor, Chea Yoa, Svay Sareth, Chan Vuttouk, Dy Mala and Rin Nak4 Previously known as Phare.

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referenced in the singular). I too might have repeated this as it became a self-fulfilling prophecy of how the work was seen locally perhaps never really examined in any other way. This became quite a public and healthy dialogue with the artists themselves when the art critic Rachel Stella (daughter of the famed American painter Frank Stella and of the art historian Barbara Rose) and her partner the poet Jacques Demarcq visited Battambang for a day arranged by the Phnom Penh-based Khmer-American artist, Khiang Hei. Both had strong impressions of their experience. Arts & Society, a Phnom Penh based arts organisation founded by Hei with a mission to foster dialogue around Cambodian art, published both diary excerpts of Stella5 and a letter from Demarcq6 addressed “to a young Cambodian artist” which provided authoritative pedagogical advice and appraisals of the scene, yet without being received uncritically. Artists reacted with anger to descriptions of their work as ‘kitsch’, suggestions of naivety and comparisons to the circus artists from Phare Ponleu Selpak. So much so that Khiang Hei organised a discussion in Battambang about it at Sammaki art space.7 But one also wonders

5 http://www.artsandsociety.info/filter/Articles/excerpts-from-a-diary6 http://www.artsandsociety.info/filter/Articles/excerpts-from-a-diary7 Notes written by Kara Spore can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/325729427500439/471782542895126/

what a letter to an art critic and poet from the Occident would look like. Mao Soviet seemed to touch on this in an interview with journalist Claire Knox for the Phnom Penh Post about his new work After the Black Wood (2013). “Soviet says he has been disappointed by recent criticisms – that the artists were not working hard enough – levelled at young Cambodian artists by Western visitors:

“Some [Western] critics and curators come [to Battambang], for a few hours and judge and criticise… but Asian art and Cambodian art are different. What do these people know about Cambodia’s history and the issues here right now? Don’t make a judgement after 10 minutes.”8

At an opening of Romeet this issue rose again in a discussion with a young Khmer American artist about art education here. He mentioned that he found it unfathomable that not one key text of art theory or history (from the western established canon) had been translated into Khmer by Phare Ponleu Selpak. I tried in vain to argue that deeming “canonical” texts as fundamentals or as the priority was the wrong

8 Claire Knox, “People don’t like honest work’, 1 March 2013, http://www.phnompenhpost.com/7days/%E2%80%98people-don%E2%80%99t-honest-work%E2%80%99.

Digestion, insitu at Romeet Contemporary Space, pictured with the artist Srey Bandaul, 2013. Courtesy of Phnom Penh Post and Alexander Crook.

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approach. Indeed, what about the history of Khmer culture, the Reamkar, Angkor Wat the Kbach and local scholarship? How could these be connected and informcontemporary production and knowledge, both Western and Khmer? What must I understand as a curator working here too… or should it all be much more fluid as a surface based in Asian contemporary art? Should we all know This is not a pipe, so to speak? Although when you have conventional tools at your disposal staking ones position becomes easier.

I am not suggesting a naive or non-historical basis of art practice but I am questioning how naive one might be coming from the outside… how surface based our ‘valued’ advice might be. In this I am not suggesting that you corrupt something that is authentically Cambodian but more over not placing a framework on top to evaluate but attempting to exchange and create new basis to discussion. This seems to be the thesis in the recent work of one of the founders of Phare Ponleu Selpak, Srey Bandaul which I will discuss later.

Some years ago I heard a very prominent figure in the international arts scene, who was visiting Phnom Penh say, whilst visiting an artist’s installation, that the artist was “trying to be an artist”. Intimating that there were legitimate artists and something finite about work that made it Art. Thus the question as to how to create a local yet global foundation that is not reliant on the outside to ordain practice whilst creating local audiences is a challenge that arises.

I wonder who needs permission to be an artist? This brings me back to I am not an artist. Mao is negating this by declaring himself a non-artist or perhaps poking at the ridiculousness of this very issue indeed. Does his work have to be sanctioned by the “centre”? However, it must be said again and again in meeting of the occident and orient however outdated this dichotomy may be. Mao does not necessarily need to know these references to sharpen his knife, he creates his own. And it is decidedly in English, not Khmer.

(New) guardians - new space?

In Battambang, arguably marginalized from the capital, yet fiercely proud of their province, artists have worked together (and sometimes with expats in the community) to become the architects of their own centre, with a growing dissidence emerging from the desire to participate in a paradigm that positions them as periphery or lacking. Make Maek Art Space opened in 2011 by first generation Phare Ponleu Selpak graduates, Mao Soviet and Sophorn Hi, with the assistance of Kat Eng a young visiting Cambodian American artist. Around the same time Sammaki gallery, structured as an artist run space, was set up by members of community, both Cambodian and expats. Sammaki proudly displayed a new narrative revolving around the idea of space: “Battambang city has the largest number of artists in Cambodia. Battambang is once again beginning to reclaim its position as Cambodia’s art hub.” This year, Studio Art Battambang was opened by the artists Roeung Sokhom and Bo Rithy. The Lotus a multi-purpose gallery and restaurant with moving image facilities just opened in October 2013 by Englishman Darren Swallow and his partner Cambodian artist Khao Touch. Next year a new art space, CMYK, is set to open supported by French Cambodian Mok Rotha. The artists in Battambang are not only making art but creating the architecture and a context for its exposure which I believe creates an acute awareness of the systems of operation.

With all this activity there is a real need for the Battambang histories to be written that go beyond the mythology of Phare Ponleu Selpak and the narrative of an art practice coming from refugee camps. Back in February I was asked to try and source some suitable writing about the Battambang art scene that could be referenced for a publication that would accompany the Season of Cambodia symposium “Contemporary art in Cambodia: A historical Inquiry” hosted by the Museum of Modern Art9 in New York. In a bit of scramble of emails to interested parties, nothing could be found, beyond exhibition texts and reviews written by journalists, which had little currency in this forum. Despite the best efforts of all involved (with one idea

9 h t t p : / / s e a s o n o f c a m b o d i a . o r g / eve n t /symposium-contemporary-art-in-cambodia-a-historical-inquiry/

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Inside the shade or the shade inside, Nov Cheanick, 2013Mixed media, 187x139cm

Courtesy of the artist and Romeet Contemporary Art Space

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for a representative of the Battambang art scene going to present which was accepted) but resources could not found so close to the date. Hence a history could not be included in this academic, discursive space of art. If detritus in the current privileged forum excludes the “Art of Battambang”, which is not unproblematic as being seen as monolithic, how can a communicable space be created that doesn’t necessarily have to perform to the mainstream and possibly exclusive discourses?

So the argument might be, it takes work to build, but with this rapid growth, where will the space be found for meditative thought? At the same time facilitating the desire to be seen while this extreme international exposure is happening for those positioned in what is deemed the right context? But the larger question of the necessity for Battambang artists to tune in to or be captured by the global art world with its established structures and homogenising discourse, as opposed to the potential self-authorised production of their own space, methodology and discourse remains.

Made in Battambang, a touring exhibition which opens in January 2014 aims at looking for an alternative methodology that is decidedly inclusive, if not anti-curatorial. Created by a committee, composed of Mao Soviet, Srey Bandaul and Alain Troulet (former director of the Institute Français and outspoken supporter of Battambang art) the only requirement for inclusion is that the work be physically made in Battambang. Each artist receives the same amount of square meters of space to show their work and ‘emerging’ artists will be seen alongside more ‘senior’ artists work. This exhibition will first be shown at Battambang University, then travel to Phnom Penh’s Institut Français’ exhibition space and then back to Battambang to be shown across the city at various art spaces. In this I can see a desire to place Battambang as the key identifier of the art and artists and also as a response to what might generally be seen as exclusive practice.

Occupying the globalised space – producing a space for critical thought

In a review of Khmer-American artist Albert Samreth’s exhibition Know, Know at Phnom Penh’s Sasa Basaac for Frieze magazine Brian Curtin curator and academic based in Bangkok wrote: “One can quickly imagine that the stakes are high for thinking about how contemporary art here can function in the context of a globalized art world, and wonder about what pressures are experienced locally”10. This definitely resonates with Srey Bandaul’s recent work which explores changes in Cambodia in the context of globalisation11. In Digestion (2013) exhibited at Romeet in March and April of this year, Srey created a 25 metres intestine made of fabrics synonymous with daily life and the protection of the body, the khroma, the sarong (two traditional pieces of Khmer clothing) and mosquito netting. He locates a tension between outside influences and traditional Khmer culture in the local communal consciousness, as well as more broadly within Southeast Asia. Visible are sharp protrusions pushing on the fabric from the inside. In a discussion with the artist, he revealed he is not anti globalisation or protectionist of traditional culture but is exploring how these influences might be “digested” creating hybridity in a new Cambodian voice. Hence, his position is one of active agent in this changing context. A final work I thought would be interesting to discuss in this context is by Nov Cheanick and comes from a series we exhibited at Romeet called Freedom with Broom (2013). Living and working from his home studio, he is among the third generation to have graduated from Phare Ponleu Selpak. His work was bought and re-exhibited in a Hong Kong show at 10 Chancery Lane in 201212, taken from its original exhibition Farmers and Freshies at Sa Sa Art Gallery in 2011. Also in 2011 he received a scholarship to attend the Pivaut Applied School of art in Nantes, France. Upon his return, this new body of work took a meditative, even existential tone, looking at perception and the

10 https://www.frieze.com/issue/review/albert-samreth/ 11 It seems particularly pertinent, as he is the head teacher at the Visual Art School of Phare Ponleu Selpak and helping steer the expansion and “internationalisation” of the course they are offering.12 Four Rising Talents from Southeast Asia, 19 Chancery Lane Gallery, Hong Kong, 23 February-14 April 2012.

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subconscious and liminal limitations and institutions that construct boundaries to intellectual freedom. In a rather obtuse artist talk he playfully responded to questions unwilling to limit engagement with his work by revealing any absolutes. The figure featured Inside the shade or the shade inside (2013) is neither entirely present or absent and rests in the shade next to the ambient light coming in the window. In a room or a box? Does it surround him or does he choose to sit in it?

Postscript

In attempting to conclude on this collection of thoughts and discussion of works I return to the draft a month later having just attended the fourth annual Siem Reap Khmer Studies Conference13. For the first time the conference ambitiously brought specialists in antiquities and Cambodian contemporary art. It was also a rare opportunity for artists and arts practitioners across the country to gather. This year’s topic was Plov veach kom borss borng (“Don’t abandon the indirect road”): Divergent Approaches to Cambodian Visual Cultures. With a diverse range of topics and styles of presentation a particular tension emerged in the dialogue between contemporary and traditional paradigms in parallel to discussions on ‘khmer-ness’ and ‘non-khmer’ approaches. And perhaps what one might call, a divergence from such a binary to perhaps a synthesis, attempts to strike beyond a cultural relativism vs universalism duality.After the last session of the conference I went to lunch with Reaksmey Yean, a Phare graduate, self described art advocate, Tith Kanitha, artist, and Ouk Socheathy, an artist and ceramics teacher at RUFA. Debriefing on the conference, the discussion turned to the idea of ‘outside’ influences which had been at once critiqued and complicated throughout the talks. Ouk was particularly perturbed by the assumption that all ‘influences’ were received passively that in fact his belief was that things were and are appropriated pragmatically upon utility rather than from a cultural

13 h t tp : / / s i emreapcon ference .org / index .php?page_id=1

hegemony. There was also discussion about language, which was an obvious challenge of such conference. With many English art terms having no direct translation into Khmer there have been two dominant pathways: either creating new terms using literal translation or simply dropping the English term in and with some of these coming into common usage.

I was reminded that I had been told that Battambang had developed a distinct set of commonly used terms that were different to those used in Phnom Penh or even Siem Reap. I asked Yean to explain this to me again.14 It was the case that Battambang commonly use the terms Selpak Soun-roub to talk about art, in particular visual art, originating from Phare and now used by the Ministry of culture. Though in Phnom Penh Selapak chakkoh tors was more commonly used and includes the performing arts. In the last few years Selapak sehya samai has been more commonly used throughout. This led the conversation not only on the epistemology of language but also to an ontology through language.

I cite this conversation as emblematic of continuing dialogues about spatial relations in art even through language but also to highlight the participation of artists, including those from Battambang, in critical dialogue about the ‘development’ of ‘contemporary’ practices. I hope these thoughts will offer some insight and contribute to the growing dialogues about what has been perceived as the development of art in Cambodia. I look forward to a continuation of conversations and reflections.

14 Reaksmey Yean translates a lot of texts for Romeet I have written in English into Khmer, opting for the creation of new terms.

CONTRIBUTORS

Orianna Cacchione is a Ph.D. candidate at the University of California, San Diego. She researches contemporary art in China, globalization and issues of translation. For the past 3 years, she has been based in Beijing where she has been a collaborator at Ho-meShop Maria do Carmo M. P. de Pontes (MFA Curat-ing, Goldsmiths College, London) is an independent Brazilian curator and writer based in London. Her recent projects include the editorial coordination of the book Contemporary Art Brazil (2012) published by Thames & Hudson, and co-curatorship of the exhi-bition Mythologies, at the Cité des Arts, Paris (2011) and Museu de Arte Moderna de São Paulo (2013). Be-tween July 27th and August 2nd 2013 she took part in Kunsthalle Roveredo’s first edition, a residency host-ed by Swiss curator Elise Lammer, alongside artists Pauline Beaudemont (France), Jan Kiefer (Germany), Benjamin Orlow (Finland), Emanuel Röhss (Sweden) and Max Ruf (Germany), as well as graphic designer Chan-Young Ramert (Germany).

Kate O’Hara is a curator at Romeet Gallery in Phnom Penh. Prior to her move to Cambodia, she has worked in public programs and curatorship, for such organizations as the Australian Centre for the Moving Image and Next Wave Arts Festival, as well as independently on projects with Australian artists. Her experience is tied together by her interest in the arts, and its potential as a tool for communication and critical exchange in society. Kate also works as part of collaborative lab, artXprojects (with Natalie Pace), which focuses on the creation of relational and participatory art.

Sils is an exhibition & project space located in the port city of Rotterdam, The Netherlands and inspired by its namesake, the small mountain village Sils-ma-ria found in Switzerland. We decided upon Sils as the name for our project space back in the winter

of 2009/10; its meaning remains to be continually de-fined and like the shade of white, Sils reflects all the colours and contributions from the artists who we invite and gather to it.

The desire to gather and form Sils emerged primarily from an observed gap within the Rotterdam art scene. Our aim is to fill this gap by creating a vibrant non-commercial gallery, artist/curator-run space, curating a program with a national and international outlook. In addition to programming exhibitions, we are also interested in establishing connections with similar spaces in other cities.

Just as the mountain village of Sils has historically hosted Nietzsche, Bowie, Richter and others alike for periods of thought, act and creativity, so does Sils, in the flat water city of Rotterdam, strive and desire to be a ‘moving’ space; equally being host and providing support to artists who experiment, perform, play and expand the frames of their practice.

Our main joy is researching, discussing and seeking out selected artists for exhibitions, however Sils has an open submission policy: Artists are encouraged to submit their portfolios, which will be periodically reviewed by the committee members. As an official Stichting (non-profit organization), Sils is run by a committee of dedicated and passionate individuals, from different backgrounds as artists and curators, since 2009.

Sils committee members are and have been:David Stamp (UK) 2009 - PresentKathrin Wolkowicz (DE/PL) 2009 - PresentRachel Carey (US) 2009 - PresentGhislain Amar (FR) 2012 - PresentTeresa Iannotta (IT) 2009 - 2012Stefano Calligaro (IT) 2009 - 2011

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