From a gathering of artists, a reckoning of what Southeast Asia means
His rich baritone amplified by a lapel mic, his every move recorded by cameras, Eddin Khoo explained to the audience the vision behind “KataKatha,” an arts initiative he conceptualized that puts a focus on Southeast Asia. We were in a compact theater tucked within a suburbia of Kuala Lumpur a couple of months ago to listen — for the next four days — to leading artists and thinkers of the region to “talk to each other.”
The “gathering,” as Khoo called it, had a simple design, which was to seat the speakers on the stage in a semicircle and let them speak, without prepared notes, about topics ranging from contemporary creative life to rituals and myths. Khoo would serve as a host and facilitator, guided neither by a teleprompter nor cue cards. From their unrehearsed talks, exchanges and dialogues, a documentary and a book would be produced, serving as a veritable map of the region’s polyphonous ideas.
Himself a leading cultural figure in Malaysia, Khoo saw the need for “conversations” and “encounters” among the artists of Southeast Asia. “This might be slightly regionalist,” he said, “but I find it ironic that many of us who know each other’s works have to meet in places like Rotterdam, Amsterdam, or New York for us to get to actually know each other.”
This kind of interaction, reiterated Khoo, is needed more than ever considering that “the attention of the Western world is moving towards our region. And yet, substantially, there is little to see in terms of bringing together people who shape any kind of ideas, whether they are contrarian, contentious, supportive or effusive of the region.”
Such a pared-down presentation may fizzle out or turn awkward ( imagine the long, nervous pauses or, on the opposite pole, the shouting matches) but Khoo had assembled a formidable list of participants with a wide range of experience and from various artistic fields, assuring an interesting mix that would keep the audience in rapt attention in the succeeding days.
The distinguished participants were: artist Agnes Arellano and filmmaker Kanakan Balintagos from the Philippines, publisher and journalist Goenawan Mohamad and architect and poet Avianti Armand from Indonesia, historian Farish A. Noor and artist Nadiah Bamadhaj from Malaysia, filmmaker Anocha Suwichakornpong and dancer Pichet Klunchun from Thailand, and photographer Geraldine Kang and urban historian Lai Chee Kien. The eminent poet and painter Latiff Mohidin of Malaysia graced the occasion with a poetry reading he conducted alongside his friend, Goenawan.
Collaborating with Khoo in this initiative is Maybank Kim Eng, the investment banking arm of Maybank, which is about to complete an arts center at the Bonifacio Global City. “To fully unleash ASEAN’s potential, there must be greater integration among its people,” said John Chong, CEO of the investment group, during the opening ceremony. “KataKatha will be the platform to cultivate a greater appreciation of Southeast Asia’s commonalities, promote its vibrant arts and culture, showcase our rich heritage and the region’s talents.”
Students from five universities in the region — University of Malaya, University of Chulalongkorn, University of Gadjah Mada, University of Philippines and National University of Singapore — were also invited to interact with and learn from the artists so they may create “a pipeline of arts and culture talents” once they come back to their respective countries.
While a handful of similarities (in language, gastronomy and certain artistic expressions, for instance) were ascertained, the artists were less specific and determined in defining identities, cultures and histories of the region. “When you look back at the past of Southeast Asia, what little recorded material of history we have points to another Southeast Asia where, in the pre-modern, pre-colonial past, even before the term Southeast Asia emerged, we were comfortable with diversity, complexity,” said Noor.
This level of diversity and complexity runs counter to the patriotic fervor of applying a one- size- fits- all story — that is, the official one — on a single nation, under the attractive — but misguided—notion of solidarity. “The mistake that you should avoid is to give credence to these meta-narratives and to take that official definition of culture as a given one,” continued Noor. “On our a societal level, there are cultures and there are communities within communities that constantly interact, engage with, resist (each other) all the time.”
For this reason, Goenawan believed that the state-imposed identity (of who and what you are and, consequently, how you behave and are governed) “can be very restrictive.” For him, “it is better to see culture as process and, of course, cosmopolitanism” — the embrace of modernity influenced by global forces — “is open to this process. This is the area where the process is confusing and chaotic.”
This area need not be feared. Noor, which calls it “productive ambiguity” is the impetus that “allows local genius” and “allows Southeast Asia to appropriate everything: from Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, modernity, colonialism, post-colonialism… Everything appropriated adds to our agency; Southeast Asians are not passive recipients of ideas but people who engage with these realities.”
Arellano and Balintagos have been appropriating and engaging with realities beyond their given cultural borders early on in their respective careers, not to capitalize on their symbolism but to serve the need for self-discovery and transformation. For Arellano, she dipped into Buddhism and Hinduism to free herself from a restrictive Catholic upbringing. “I had to find a different deity that would be more forgiving, less cruel and would make feel valuable member of society,” she said.
In her research, she “found out, in many civilizations, including ours, we have a mother goddess…that has remained in the postcolonial structure as the Blessed Virgin Mary. If you look back, before the Spanish came, we were matriarchal, so that empowered me. I felt free to take in, appropriate, be as Western as I wanted and as Eastern as I wanted.” This search resulted in the exhibition, “Temple to the Moon Goddess,” held at the Cultural Center of the Philippines in 1983, rehabilitating, as it were, the goddesses that populate the myths and legends of different cultures.
Balintagos did not have to search far and wide to find what he was looking for. He simply had to connect with the land of his ancestors, located in the south of Palawan. “It was a complete culture,” he said. “There were chants that would last until the morning. There was a theater structure that was 11 feet high and was made of bamboo.”
Known previously as Auraeus Solito ( he of the Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros fame), he completed his transformation by changing his name and creating Busong, a majestic film that tracks his actual and metaphorical homecoming ( one character is named Kanakan) through the lush forests and seascapes of Palawan, exploring, at once, both emotional and ecological wounds. Screened during the event, Busong clearly resonated with the audience in its sustained applause.
“In Europe, the reaction is usually a collective gasp,” he said. “But here, there’s something that touches them, maybe because of proximity. Palawan, my tribal land, is just beside Borneo. There’s something that they can directly relate to and really see themselves in…I hope this is the beginning with the direct relationship with our neighbors, where we show our art and see ourselves in our neighbor’s art.”