The news of the passing of Cambodian playwright Samithi Sok swept across the Phnom Penh community as a surging wave of sadness and remembrance.  Kumnooh sat down at Cappadacio in Tuol Tom Pong with Sami’s friend, collaborator and theatrical co-conspirator Marika Els to talk about where they’ve been and where things are going next.  There was coffee, laughter, wine, tears and resolve in the air; here are some of the words that were shared.      

The first time I met Sami it was at Bong Bonlai, at auditions for his first play, 12-8, which was being put on by Phnom Penh Players – as I was on the PPP committee I knew some of the background.  Initially I didn’t want to be involved in the show, and I only went along to try out for the part of the drunk lady – only one monologue and a few lines, easy.  I was approached to be Assistant Director because as a first time director he needed a mentor.  I said I’d think about it.  As it happened, the audition was recorded, Sami gave me really good notes, and I had no idea that this encounter would escalate and grow into one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.  It was not even hours later that I agreed to become the Assistant Director.  Best decision I’ve ever made.  12/8 was such a huge success, I was so proud of him. 

It was such a learning curve – me and Sami figuring things out.  At some point he had to go to Singapore; we had the cancer conversation, how it was going to impact the show, and we had to be open and honest with each other. We became friends really quickly, there was a very quick bond, and the respect was there very early on. 

We worked together very closely – he would share his vision with me and I would go make that happen.  Even when he was unwell he would still come, show up whenever possible.  I was the organic voice of reason, while he would insist on doing the Meisner exercise again and again.  I hate it, but I did it even when he wasn’t there, because he loved it. 

The second play, Wind Up Mice, was originally done in the UK as part of an online university project, and he rewrote it to be staged in Phnom Penh. I agreed to doing so many things before even reading it – yes, let’s do it, I’m co-directing, yes I’m producing, yes I’m doing costumes, yes I’m doing make-up, yes I’m doing props, yes, yes, yes.  And he asks me have I read the play?  Sure.  I’ve read one page.  Once I did finally read it I adored it, it was so dark.  Wind Up Mice taught us a lot, we did everything by ourselves.  He was really stressed, we had a bunch of first time actors, it was an independent show with no backers.  Still, it played to full houses. 

He needed to push out as much work as possible while he could, and I was there to make it happen.  When he couldn’t drive I had to drive.  He was extremely passionate, a bright light.  His enthusiasm was infectious and his creativity fuelled my creativity.  His vocabulary was staggering.  He had so much love – for theatre, for people, for his friends, for his family.  He was worried for his family at the end, making sure they were okay.  And he was really concerned about his last play, The Thousand Deaths of Dignity.  My play needs to happen!  They need to read me in universities!  And I said I don’t know about the universities, but I can make your plays happen. 

He brought people together, and through his sheer dedication and passion for theatre he brought people together, and people became friends because of him.  I made a new friend because of him – his mentor Lizzie Hodge, drama teacher at ISPP and a major influence in his life – and Lizzie and I will be making the last play happen, she as director of movement and myself as director of acting.  It’s a very deep look into Sami’s mind.  For a man of only 22, the insights that he had, the maturity of his work – quite beyond his years.

Every time we spoke we would tell each other how much we loved each other.  And all I wish is to hear that one more time.  I want to talk about theatre with him, about our crushes, our hopeless, hopeless crushes.  I want to talk about food, I want to talk about death and I want to talk about life.  We spoke about all those things, and we knew dark secrets, deeper thoughts that were hard to share with anyone else. 

We thought we had months, but it was just weeks, two weeks maybe, at the most.  He was in severe pain.  He asked me about the already scheduled reading of The Thousand Deaths of Dignity – if I can’t do it can you take over?  I had expected a collaboration, but when I got the message I knew time was running out. 

The drunk lady monologue from 12-8 starts like this:  Love!  What’s love anyway?  And she goes into a heartbroken cynical rant.  Now I would say love is Samithi Sok.  He lived so passionately, so deeply.  He felt so much.  We know but a fraction of what he felt, when you read the play there’s so much more coming out.  He was very strong.  We could all learn from him – not to be stoic, but to live well despite the challenges.   Everyone loved him, he was just a nice guy to get along with. 

When I saw him last he was ready to go, he wasn’t scared anymore.  He said he could feel his body shutting down.  He wants to come back as a rich white woman’s dog that she can wear in a bag, so he can be spoiled.  I’m not sure I can afford it, but I would be down to buy a dog to spoil and call Sami. 

The light is leaking out of my heart.  I should make a painting, a broken heart with light and words leaking out of it.  I can almost hear him and I can almost see him, but it’s very quiet.  I just want everyone to remember this young genius.  One of the biggest honours and privileges of my life to be able to say I was Samithi Sok’s co-director.  The Khmer Times called him the Cambodian Shakespeare of our time – he would be so bashful and so pleased. 

See also: It happens once: Samithi Sok’s joy of theatre, from May 2023

Coming next month to Speakeasy Theatre is an experimental non-verbal puppetry performance, Scylla and Glaucus, the second production by the newly formed Lo-Key Theatre Company,.  Kumnooh was curious and went to talk to director, artist and puppeteer Marika Els.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for 15 years,” she says.  “The first attempt was in 2008 as part of my Master’s degree, but I got really ill and had to cancel.   When Rob Appleby, Paul Glew and I started Lo-Key Theatre Company they asked what show I would like to do first.  I said I know exactly – it’s written, it’s done, I have everything, I just need to build the set and the puppets.  It’s finally happening.” 

So who or what are Scylla and Glaucus?  “It’s based on a myth from Ovid’s Metamorphoses – Scylla is a nymph and Glaucus a sea god.  In this show there’s no talking; the story is told through the movement of puppets by myself and Sam Thomas, with music provided by Raven Norwood on violin.  I have the outline of the story, what I want to happen where in each scene, but it will be a matter of improvisation to figure out how to portray emotions like sadness and longing, and the passing of time.  The first few rehearsals will be all about improvising and getting to know the puppets.” 

And why puppets?  “Firstly, no one cares about puppets as much as I do.  Puppets make me happy.  I have a huge collection at home, one that I hope to grow.   Right now life is basically caffeine, nicotine and puppets.  And the occasional glass of wine.  A little bit of puppet work, a little bit of set work.  The construction of puppets is tedious, because of the wait.  I use papier mache and papier mache pulp, so I have to wait for things to dry – it takes days to weeks to actually make something that is worth looking at.  And I am in a bit of a rush, because I must finish the set and the puppets so we can start rehearsals.” 

We also know you from visual art exhibitions in Phnom Penh.  When did you first get involved in the arts?  “I’ve been doing art – be it theatre or painting or drawing or sculpting or whatever – since I was very young.  I did my first theatre competition when I was six years old.  My parents, especially my father, encouraged this passion of mine, and always made sure I had art materials.  I never took art as a subject in school, but I had private art classes through high school, and my teacher quickly realised that teaching me just a little bit of technique would suffice, because the rest just came instinctively.  I’m a very instinctive creator, I don’t sit for hours and plan out things.  When my brain doesn’t know what to do my hands can to it by themselves.  It’s the same with the puppets that I’m doing now – when the brain runs out of ideas my hands just instinctively know what to do.

“I didn’t go to art school because I realised too late that I needed a portfolio to apply, and was too lazy to make one; I chose theatre instead.  In my third year I chose acting and puppetry as specialisations.  Puppetry was the perfect medium, it brought together my art and my acting.  I had done puppetry a few times prior to actually studying it, but it never occurred to me that this is a thing that I should be doing.  I did shows and I painted backdrops, did all kinds of things for a friend of my mum’s who did puppet shows.  Now every time since then I go through an emotional upheaval and I feel a need to come back to me, to ground myself again, the first thing I reach for is puppets.” 

But the visual art is not far away.  “My first show in Phnom Penh was at Cloud – And then I lost my mind, a solo exhibition.  And then a while later I did My Portal, My Abyss with Emily Marques.  I haven’t exhibited since, but I’ve been painting.  At some point I should organise an exhibition again, because I’ve got way too many paintings, all hanging in my house, which is nice, but the only person enjoying them is me. 

“My Portal, My Abyss delved a little bit into performance art; I came up with the idea of blind painting, where the artists are blindfolded, and all the tools, the paints, the brushes, random things like forks and sponges and chopsticks – whatever I could find, basically, that I thought would make interesting texture – are handed to the blindfolded artists by the audience, so it’s a collaboration.  20 minutes of painting and then a little break so the paint could dry, and then another 20 minutes of interacting. 

“It’s not so much about the product for me, it’s more the process.  I really want people to interact with art.  One of my paintings is a little notebook that I papier mache’d onto a papier mache’d canvas – and at first glance it just looks like a 3D painting of an eye – I added a note: please interact with the artwork.  Because it’s a notebook filled with sketches.  I like things to be sensory – touch the art.” 

Marika got involved with long-running theatre troup Phnom Penh Players through a collaborative show called Life, Love and Other Illnesses.  “One of the shows in it was called Andrea Rescued, which called for puppets.  I built them out of wire and wet wipes.  Initially we were wanting to set the puppets on fire, and of course the theatre said no.  I was really disappointed.  We did a test run and it looked so good!  So we had to make a different design choice.  I stuck to the wet wipes, just not dowsing them in alcohol, but made the skin not as strong, so that the actors could rip the skin off and expose the wire skeleton.  They would destroy the puppets every night on stage and I would have to frantically fix them overnight.  And for Scylla and Glaucus I’m recycling those puppets. 

“Phnom Penh is a place where I’ve been able to experiment more with lower risk.  I don’t want to play to an empty house, but it’s great to have the support of Paul and the Speakeasy Theatre to have a space for this sort of thing.  Is everyone going to love it?  Probably not.  It’s a tragedy, not a rom com.  So don’t see ‘puppet show’ and think Punch and Judy, or The Muppets, or Team America. I’m trying to give people something different.   

“Puppets live in the land of magic, and they can do amazing things.  Even though they have static features, the emotion they can convey can be so powerful.  As much as the puppeteer gives life to the puppet the audience also brings it to life because they project onto it their thoughts, their emotions, their own experience.”

For those who are interested in exploring more, Marika is booked in for a Nerd Night presentation on 31 July on self-expression through puppetry. 

And tickets are now available for Scylla and Glaucus, which will be performed on Friday 18 and Saturday 19 August, sponsored by the Kingdom of Wonder podcast.   

Photos: supplied

Apple Tree Productions International, founded in Phnom Penh in May 2022, put on the first edition of their first project, “SPEAK”, the following month.  After a year of successful events, Kumnooh spoke to co-founder Cat Isaacs to shed some more light on “SPEAK” and what’s behind it. 

“SPEAK” is a spoken word/poetry platform for the showcasing of original work by poets from any background – local, expat, travelling through – once a month at Botanico, where we get the words off the paper and transform them into speech.  It’s an opportunity to grow the performance element of poetry, and build confidence in sharing work.  There’s some incredible writing going on, across many styles.  Initially we tried coupling it with music and creating a collaborative ambient soundscape, but as it developed we found it was better for the writers to just get a chance to read, particularly for first time performers.” 

At first the platform was set up largely for seasoned writers looking for a space to share, but that too changed.  “What has happened is that some people have come to the event and been inspired to write for the very first time, which is beautiful.  I never expected that that was going to be such a highlight of what we were doing.  So “SPEAK” has really taken a turn towards training first time performers, coaching them with the performance element. 

“We encourage the poets to write about what they know, not in the sense of only exploring only the things you’re familiar with, but to focus on the genuineness of experience, which has seemed to draw people in.  It’s not people just writing for the sake of writing, it’s work that’s coming from an internal space.  And it’s a beautiful thing to witness it in that form, almost like a healing process for some of the writers, where they’ve got something inside them that they just need to share.  And you can feel when writing is fake, you can feel when somebody is making a farce of the form.  The respect that all performers, even new ones, have shown to the space has always come from a genuine place, and that has really connected with people.  It wasn’t something we tried to manufacture.  There’s no hate speech, and there’s no vulgarity directed towards anyone – those are the only caps that I’ve put on the writing.  Just minimal guidelines, it’s translated very well that way.” 

Tell us more about Apple Tree Productions.  “Arts and theatre and drama really saved my life, and my skill set is growing ensemble and coaching, and using the arts as a medium for healing.  The projects that we’re launching focus celebrating the arts and providing a therapeutic space for anyone going through tough times without an outlet.” 

The other Apple Tree Productions project currently running is “SING”, which celebrates musical theatre and show tunes.  “With “SING” I work with Kirsty Marillier, an absolutely phenomenal performer with a preference for the Disney side of musical theatre; she also runs a kids’ party business called Party Princess 911.  We worked together on a version of “SING” in South Africa – appreciating the world within the song, taking you on a journey from beginning to end.  We thought musical theatre is not really being done in Phnom Penh, so let’s try it out.  And don’t be thinking it’s karaoke.  There is a screening process for performers including a vocal test, making sure that they are able to learn a song if they need to, and each show is rehearsed, including a tech rehearsal, before the one-night-only mini show.  Paul Glew very generously provides space for us at The Box Office and sorts out all the sound and lighting.”

“SPEAK” is held on Mondays once a month, always trying to avoid clashing with Nerd Night – this  monthis actually the first time the two events will happen on the same night.  For future activities of Apple Tree Productions International check out their Facebook page – they also post regularly in a number of Facebook groups and noticeboards of various kinds. 

The next “SPEAK” will happen on Monday 19 June, and the next “SING” will happen on Tuesday 20 June. 

By Colin Grafton.

During COVID, my wife Keiko and I occupied ourselves with various projects we might never have got around to otherwise—one exhibition at Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, two photo exhibitions at Bophana Center, and a book titled Dancers.

The advantage of course was that we had plenty of time; the disadvantage was that the venues could not be open to the public, so these exhibitions had to be seen by reservation only. I had to take groups of (maximum) 10 people around the gallery, and give a little talk. This evolved later into two ‘video talks’, unrehearsed and one-take affairs, one on Naoki Mabuchi’s classic photos of the Khmer Rouge era and the other on Refugees—Forty Years Later, which consisted of my photos taken in 1980 around the Thai-Cambodian border and the refugee camps, notably the largest one, Khao I Dang.

The latter exhibition comprised over 100 images. Despite the audience limitations, it enjoyed as much exposure as we could hope for in the circumstances, and was favourably received. It was on display for over a month, as there was nothing to replace it at the time, and the ‘gallery talk video’ went on YouTube. This in fact made it accessible to a much wider audience than we had envisaged. Most of those who viewed it were interested from a historical, objective point of view, but few had any close connection with the events it depicted.

Six years earlier, in January 2015, I had met an American filmmaker named Robert Douglas at the Cambodian International Film Festival. One of his 30-minute documentaries, From The Heart Of Brahma, was screening in the festival. Our shared interest in Cambodian dance and music led to a close friendship. Rob got married to a Cambodian lady, Navy, and went back to the States. We kept in contact.

Rob lives in Long Beach, LA, and a lot of his work as ‘visual anthropologist’ is centred on the Cambodian community. He mentioned a few times that it would be a great idea to show photos of the refugee camps in California, and my reaction was “Yeah, maybe, but it’s a long way away, isn’t it?” Pie in the sky. I had no desire to go to America either, especially at that time when COVID was still rife. If I’d been the praying kind, I would have been praying for Rob and Navy’s survival, but a visit to Trumpland was bottom of my list of things to do.

However, last year, as the world began to open up again, I started getting intimations of a scheme from Rob. He was talking with the Cambodia Town Long Beach community, and thought they might offer to host the Refugees exhibition in LA. I still did not give much credence to the idea, though I appreciated Rob’s enthusiasm and positive attitude. Then Rob informed us that the Cambodia Town community and Phnom Penh Sister Cities committee had given the green light, and would fund us with $5,000 to pay for our air tickets. In LA, we could stay with Rob and Navy and play with their three lovely kids, who were always running around full of energy, shrieking. A dream come true.

We arrived in LA on March 28th, a few hours after we left Phnom Penh, since we were travelling forward into yesterday. We were loaded with baggage, four suitcases containing photographs and copies of the Dancers book for sale.  Rob picked us up at the airport and took us to his home by a circuitous route, stopping off to say hello to famous rapper PraCH Ly and sightseeing at the beach and Trump’s country club. We were high as hell on lack of sleep and jetlag so it didn’t bother us. It took about two hours to reach his house, which is 20 minutes from the airport.

The next few days were spent assembling the photo panels in Rob’s garage, scouting the exhibition venues and meeting important people in the Long Beach Cambodian community. We noticed that Cambodian Americans seemed to have a lot of energy and talked a lot, very fast. We also noted that a noodle soup cost $20, which was equal to one-and-a-half books at the Cambodian price.

Our first event was 2nd April, the day of the Cambodia Town Parade. The photo exhibit went on display in the Manazar Gamboa ‘black box’ theatre. We had found out the theatre itself was too dark for the display, and there was no convenient lighting in it. Furthermore, it would be used for dressing up and rehearsing on the day of the parade. So the photos went up in the theatre lobby, which turned out to be just big enough. The parade in the morning was impressive, with ‘Trot’ dancers and Chhayam drummers, and a number of Apsaras.

The exhibition was open from 1 pm to 6 pm and it was crowded from opening to close – we had not expected this kind of reception. People were flocking to see the pictures, and many were saying they had been there in 1980, and they had stories to tell. Some became emotional. Our “Khmer family” in LA (I had met them in Khao I Dang refugee camp in 1980) were there, and were actively promoting the book, which featured some photos of one of the sisters as a dancer. She had been a shy, shrinking violet at the time, but had later matured into a star saleswoman for Shiseido cosmetics. She sold about thirty books in a few hours, and I was kept busy signing them while listening to stories told by onlookers about their experiences in KID and how they reached it from the border and how they got to the USA after that, via Malaysia or Indonesia….

Khao I Dang’s population in May 1980 was 130,000 and a large number of those people ended up eventually in Long Beach. They had memories but almost no photographs to document their time in the refugee camps. Their children had to listen to those memories, but they too had few visual connections to the experiences of their parents. And now there were all these photos, full of faces and familiar scenes of everyday life on the border… and so many smiling faces, because I was there at a time between the misery and suffering of 1979, when the first refugees poured out with the Khmer Rouge, and the later period when many settled into a routine lethargy of despair, stuck in a camp for years with no way out. It was a time of ephemeral euphoria, when many were relieved to have food and security, health care and hope for the future, after nearly four years of deprivation and terror under the Pol Pot regime.

From 5th to 9th April, the exhibition was on display at Museum of Latin American Art in LA. There is not much connection between Cambodia and Latin America apart from refugee status (from Guatemala, for example) but we were thankful to them for providing us the space in their entrance hall.

In the afternoon of 7th April, I did a slideshow and talk on the exhibition, and there was a panel discussion in the spacious conference hall. On 8th, we showed two screenings of Rithy Panh’s film Site 2, both to full houses. This film was made in 1989 in an even larger camp than Khao I Dang (the population of Site 2 at its highest topped 190,000). Some of the inhabitants had been in Khao I Dang before Site 2, others had arrived later, or been evacuated from the border hamlets of Nong Chan and Nong Samet after they had been wiped out by the Vietnamese. The film was preceded by a revealing interview with Rithy Panh about the making of the film, and together these served as an appropriate bookend presenting a contrast to the optimism of the Khao I Dang photos. After the screening, a Q&A session sparked many questions and comments. It was interesting that many people confused Site 2 with KID, when in fact they were different places.

Logistically, the tour held together reasonably well. We had to fly from LA to Seattle and from Seattle to Sacramento, and we couldn’t carry the photo displays on the plane. So we had to ship them to SF in advance. Setting up and taking down became a streamlined ritual. We used easels supplied by the venues.

America encourages creativity. Everyone should have their input considered. This sounds good, except that one good proven idea is worth any number of useless ones, however imaginative they may be. We found we had to be brutally firm sometimes in saying: “No! We’ll do it like this. Leave us alone.” We were dictatorial, but we had to be to get anything done. Another annoyance was over the choice of photos for posters and fliers. For example, we were told that anything showing violence, children or nudity would be unacceptable to ‘people on the Board’. Bit of a problem there, since the refugee camps were full of kids, many of them stark naked! Consequently, we had to make do with some banal images that lacked impact.

From 14th to 17th April, we were in Seattle for film showing (15th) and slideshow/exhibition (16th). Khmer New Year celebrations were held at Wat Chas (the old pagoda), a picturesque temple in a valley. The smaller population of Cambodians here were somewhat different. Many had originally come from rural areas, not Phnom Penh, and they were more involved in farming than business.

From 17th to 22nd, we were in Napa (at a private gallery, by invitation) and San Francisco, at San Mateo College.  In Napa, we just hung stuff up along a garden fence for a popup afternoon show. Indian dancers came to provide entertainment. The wine was good, but the weather was cold, and people didn’t stay after sunset.

‘Frisco was our last stop, and we finally had time to enjoy the company of some old Cambodian friends (from 1974) and some of the sights recommended by our bluesman friend Big D. Walker (Muir Woods for the redwood trees, and “The Saloon”, oldest blues bar in San Francisco).

On 21st at San Mateo College, we set up the exhibition (which had been shipped from LA) for the last time, and I did a combined presentation with Neak Kru Charya Burt, dance master sister of Sophiline Cheam Shapiro, the famous dancer who recently performed a prayer dance in front of stolen artifacts in the Metropolitan Museum, New York. One highlight of this session was when I jokingly invited anyone who saw themselves in the photographs to make a claim, and one woman literally ran up to the front of the stage with a “That’s me!”. She was one of the students at a dance class in Khao I Dang.

We left America just after midnight on 23rd April. The 19 display panels were adopted by Dr. Susan Needham, anthropologist, co-director of the Cambodian Community History & Archive Project (CamCHAP), a community-based research and learning centre created in 2008, who will use them for educational purposes.

The last word should be an enormous Thankyou to our ‘road manager’ Rob, aka Carl Off, aka Robert Carleton-Chhaing, who drove us around, filmed everything, accompanied us almost everywhere, and put up with our complaints and my sense of humour.

As a postscript, my only harmonica performance in LA was for Rob’s kids, who ran around me in circles shouting and screaming in perfect harmony.

****************************************************************************************************************************

• The photographs on display in “Cambodian Exodus—From the Border to Khao I Dang” and many more, can be found on the website.

• Some copies of the book “Dancers” are still available in Phnom Penh, please email for details: colingrafton@yahoo.com

Photos: supplied. “These are all from Manazar Gamboa Theater on April 2nd. The lady in turquoise is Dinaka, who is also the central dancer in the colour photo taken 43 years ago, who sold 30 books in a couple of hours. The tall man in black in the cap is Rob, the filmmaker who arranged the trip.”

This Saturday 27 at 7 pm at Seekers Spirit House the intrepid traveller will find a multi-faceted event entitled A-N-T-O-P-I-A/PAPERS, put together by Metaestetica Lab, a mixed media participatory installation and performance including the Kampot Playboys, DJs, painters, video, sculpture, Old Uncle Tom Cobly and all.  Kumnooh sat down with the proposer of the event, Carlo Santoro, as the rain poured down, to try to get a handle on all that’s going on. 

You are describing this as a reload, but a reload of what precisely?  “The first version of A-N-T-O-P-I-A was put together for the European Film Festival in February 2023 – one single installation work.  It’s not an exhibition, it’s an installation one single product created by artists from many different disciplines – painting, sculpture, architecture, printing, video and performance. 

“Originally it was a one-night-only at Perch – 100 square metres, 15 artists, five videos, movies, DJs, sculpture – all on the 35^th floor.  We mounted in one day and dismantled the day after, with the hope that we would set up again shortly after.  A few days later Seekers Spirits agreed to host the installation – one third of it, just 30 square metres, we lost the video and DJ component – so it was mostly the ready-mades, sculptures and painting.” 

A-N-T-O-P-I-A the first time around at Perch. Photos: supplied

Given a broad theme of the marginalised spaces of a rapidly changing and expanding Phnom Penh, the artists were, and have been again, given a chance to play; the audience then react to what has been assembled as they see fit.  Installations like ours meet audience expectations in the context of a film festival.  Two months later, when we repurposed the installation at Seekers for the Warehouse Rave party, attendees were going to dance, and I doubt they really looked forward to an installation of readymades picked up on the street and rusty metal works arranged in the corner of the dance floor, so they considered it part of the space.  People enjoyed the music, but they also wandered around inside the space until the early hours of the morning, which made for an unusual time to relate to the objects we proposed. For us the key component is the public, the participation – it’s a social interaction.  The typical idea of Metaestetica is that it is not the physical outer that produces the aesthetics but rather the social system, the relationship between the work produced by the artist and the viewing audience.” 

So how have artists responded to this general call?  “As said, the main part of the installation consists of rusty metal sculpture with animals and plants morphing through it by Gregory Gosselin, paintings by Theo Valllier, representing the everyday conditions of the typical Phnom Penh city centre, the objects collected from the streets that are in active transformation.  To give you an idea, today one of the city’s major transformations is about to take place along the old railway line in Russei Keo, north of the Japanese Bridge, where the road is currently being widened. People living on the edge of the road are reoccupying the road as they build it, then moving on to the next marginal area.  This is everyday life for the specific conditions of the city.  We tried to buy some of the abandoned/found objects in these spaces – for example an apparently abandoned bed, sitting there, kids playing on it.  It took two or three days, they found the owner, sold for $30.  And so on for many other objects.” 

And you mentioned readymades, as proposed by Marcel Duchamp?  “Right, they are also hidden in the installation. I actually tried to find an exact copy of the Duchamp bicycle wheel.  I went to SuperDuper to buy four cans of Campbell’s tomato soup and placed them in the space, with the receipt, to acknowledge Andy Warhol.  And we got a tyre for Rauschenberg’s Monogram but we missed the goat, so got at least the goat skin, imported for us by Diego Wilkins.  Of course, it wasn’t much noticed during the rave party: okay, there’s tins of soup.  No one even questioned it. Someone laid down on our 30$ bed to smoke a cigarette for half an hour. They didn’t look surprised at all.  Slowly people started to take in the installation, read things, walk around inside, explore the situation and adapt to it. The whole thing might look really surprising from an outside perspective, for them it was quite familiar” 

A-N-T-O-P-I-A the second time around at Seekers as the rave party rages and flags. Photos: supplied

What about the performance side?  “There’s a room where you have a concert and DJs on one side, an installation on the other side, with video projections as well, raising the idea of locality, for locations which have been deprived of the idea of being a locality in the sense of an existing place.  Appearing and disappearing.  And then we do the same with music.

ANTOPIA is also a retrospective, looking back at art and movements in the 1960s.   Sao Sopheak and Nick E Meta will be DJing with old vinyl records to introduce the Kampot Playboys, who represent a continuation of the Golden Era story – a story of appearing and disappearing.” 

But wait there’s more.  “On the 27^th we will try to increase the size – rather than being a side event.   Theo Vallier and Jean-Pascal Vittori will again be doing live silkscreen printing with a machine they invented.  There is also a repeat performance by Vannak Khun called The Two Brothers, two masked brothers coming from the countryside to try to explore these unfamiliar objects.  We have paintings and printings originally created by street artist Theo Vallier.  Pisey Kosal’s video portion places a student standing in a road, the image fading from colour to and white – tfading people, as he said.  Miguel Jeronimo is bringing artificial intelligence reinterpretations of Phnom Penh – the pictures are generating glitches and split in seconds, so the images appear dystopian but then they snap and go away, then generate another one, another one.  A sequence, a collage.  Another A-N-T-O-P-I-A dismantled condition.”

And the PAPERS part to the title, for this reload, what’s that about?  “Print art, paper collage, mixed media but mainly using paper as the medium.  We have three contemporary Cambodian painters representing three generations – Sous Soudavy, Chhim Sothy anad Chhan Dina – with a tribute to Srey Bandaul, celebrated as a pioneer of the art movement in Battambang province.   Don’t think of something curated by single person – it’s co-curated by the collection of people that come together under the banner of Metaestetica Lab, a collective of artists and non-artists.” 

The porous notion of the proposed theme allows the audience to experience it through their own context, take meanings from it as they will.  Make it up yourself.  “After all, another of the possible definitions is instead of an-topia it’s ant-opia, the playground of the ants, which links back to the metal sculpture that includes human beings, domestic animals, the not-urban and the not-natural.  People can get inside and thus participate within the place and become the new occupant.”

Plenty to explore as the music plays this Saturday, May 27 at Seekers Spirit House from 7 pm. 

Coming soon to Java Creative Café Tuol Tom Pong is a new play by playwright Samithi Sok, Wind Up Mice, co-directed by Samithi and Marika Els.  Samithi was good enough to sit down with Kumnooh this week to discuss the world of theatre. 

“This is the second play that I’ve written and directed,” says Samithi.  “Wind Up Mice is about a couple who are trapped in a time-loop and they are forced to relive their relationship over and over again from start to finish.  It explores ideas of free will, resentments and toxic relationships, trying to preserve what we can really hold on to.  Three sets of actors represent the one relationship in three different time-frames.” 

Theatre’s low profile in Cambodia meant that it has been mostly learning-by-doing for Samithi, who got involved while attending ISPP, taking part in teacher-led and then student-led drama and musical productions, and by year 11 had caught the theatre bug enough to take it as a subject in his IB.  This was followed by studies at the University of York, unfortunately cut short by COVID.

Last October his first play, 12-8, was produced by Phnom Penh Players.  This time he and Marika wanted to strike out on their own.  “The Phnom Penh Players are very well-established, they’ve been around for a long time.  I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it independently.  I have a great team to support me – I don’t think I would have been able to do it if I didn’t have my co-director Marika.  She is my rock, and she has helped me in every step.  We’ve got a great team – our performers are really giving their all – especially we have two actors who have never done a show before, but they are working hard, really doing their very best.” 

Independence has its costs as well as benefits, he admits.  “The biggest hurdle with this show is trying to get the word out.  Theatre is already very niche globally, and particularly in Cambodia it can be a challenge to find people to come to auditions, people who are willing to take on production roles, and importantly, to find and encourage audiences to attend.” 

Although born and raised in Phnom Penh, the 22 year old is one of the new generation finding their expressive voice through English.  “I’m more comfortable in English than I am in Khmer.  When I was very young I lived for some time in Switzerland, and there were not many people I could speak Khmer with, so I feel a little stunted in my grasp of the mother tongue.  I struggle with this – the previous play 12-8 was about two young adult Cambodians working in a convenience store and trying to figure out what they’re going to do with their lives, and I grappled with myself, is it really authentic if I’m writing in English all the time?  I decided that if I’m going to limit myself to only writing in Khmer then I’ll never be able to say anything.  More and more young people are learning English now.  And it’s there in the writing – the characters both speak in English and so feel alienated from their own society, they have trouble to connect, even though they want to fill that gap.” 

Rehearsals in progress. Photo: supplied

So why would a young Cambodian pursue something as obscure as theatre?  “What I love the most about theatre is the collaboration between the actors and the audience.  Knowing that it is a stage, and there’s a real live person in front of you, there’s an inherent layer of artifice.  It’s not like a movie where the aim is for super-realism.  You are already suspending disbelief – I am watching you be a different person in a different room.  It’s an interesting dynamic that doesn’t exist anywhere else. 

“And the magic of knowing that each performance is only going to happen once.  It doesn’t last, it shouldn’t last, and that is also what makes it so hard.  Anything that happens on the stage is only going to happen one time.  Opening night is all adrenalin and the excitement, when the energy is the highest; by the time you get to closing night the actors are the most comfortable with the play and they can play around a bit more.  It really feels magical – it happens once and it will never happen again. 

“One of my favourite plays is 70 Scenes of Halloween by Jeffrey Jones.  It blends a surreal presentation with horror-esque and strange goings-on with a very human story about a couple whose marriage is failing.  I like that blend, leading the audience in with something weird or funny, then follow up by hitting them with something quite affecting.”

Wind-up Mice may be experienced on 19, 20, 26 and 27 May at 7 pm, with an additional matinee at 1 pm on 27 May, at Java Creative Cafe Toul Tom Poung.   Tickets $12, available through this link. 

Rehearsals in progress. Photo: supplied

Currently running at Meta House in Phnom Penh is an exhibition, Photography in Cambodia: 1866 To The Present, which accompanies a newly published book of the same name.  The sumptuous and handsome volume is the brainchild of Nicholas Coffill, and has a rather unusual genesis – it came out of a stage performance entitled SNAP1 – 150 Years of Photography in Cambodia, that started in 2016 at Bambu Stage in Siem Reap. 

“I decided to turn the show into something a bit more permanent,” says Nicholas.  “I put three solid years into it, and then off to the printers and the post-production.  I really enjoyed it.  I’ve been involved for a long time in the museum world – there are often great catalogues of collections, and I’ve seen some beautiful books about photography in Australia and India, but Cambodia and other Southeast Asian countries just don’t have anthologies of their photographic history. I thought I could do that – I know where most of the collections are, if I don’t I can just ask more friends.” 

And the response?  “It’s selling like hot cakes. I imported 500 five weeks ago and have none left. I had to bring in the last 400 from the publishers in Singapore, they just arrived a week ago and they’re all being shipped off to local bookstores and hotels of repute.  So it’s going really well.” 

The format is one that seeks to link the photographs to their time and their significance.  “I wanted a book that a reader – Cambodian or expat or traveler – could look at, dip in, look around, put down and do something else, come back, open up, read another little story. The text provides context for the object rather than being about the object itself.  This is basically the history of Cambodia from 1866 to today with only 100 words a page.” 

A fascinating theme of the collection is the changing look of the Angkorian temples from the middle of the nineteenth century on – we’ve all seen endless photos of Angkor Wat and the Bayon, but here they are seen from different views, at different times and stages of reconstruction, and frequently capturing observations by contemporary visitors. The photograph used on the front cover is illustrative.  “You can date many photos by what people are wearing.  We spoke to a few costume specialists and they said oh, perhaps 56, 57, perhaps 61 – late 50s cool.”

The photograph as found object also has its place.  “There’s two found objects in the exhibition, both discovered within a few weeks of each other.  There’s one portrait with a rice paste smeared on it, found in the streets in Phnom Penh by Taber Hand about three months ago, and we couldn’t work it out.  I’ve since spoken to a few older Cambodians and read a few books about funerary practice, and we believe this photograph was probably taken in the 60s or early 70s of a young boy and he probably died this year.  During the long period of mourning any mirrors or glassy surfaces would have been covered with powder or fabric, so the soul is not confused, and goes back to heaven rather than going through this strange vortex. So this was an attempt to cover that up.  Why it was then discarded we don’t know. This photograph now has a second life as a piece of memorabilia.” 

Another angle of the nature of photography rises to the surface – the changing meaning and purpose of an image.  “A photograph of a young Cambodian taken at S21, it’s an ID photograph, a document of the processing of people.  When the Vietnamese came the photographs were collected, cleaned, copied, and put on display and became objects more about education.  Then they were used as evidence in trials at the Khmer Rouge Tribunal.  Then they were reproduced again and put on large boards and taken around to villages outside Phnom Penh by DC-Cam and used to educate villagers about what was happening with the Tribunal, and to encourage discussion and healing, so they become a tool of sociology: here is the grandmother, here is the son, what are your experiences? Do you have any photographs in your own family that you want to bring out and talk about?  And now it has become a psychological tool of memory.

“Here’s an image of Son Sen, one of the Khmer Rouge leaders, that was displayed in the S21 genocide museum in the early 80s, and over the next decade Cambodians mutilated it, writing vulgar comments across it.  The photograph in the book of the vandalised image was taken by the Catalan photographer Dani Planas Labad in 2007 – so how do you document that? This is a cut-out of a much larger photograph, many people have torn and written on it, thrown their emotions into it.  Is it still a photograph taken in 1976?  Is it a photograph reproduced in 1984?  Is it a damaged photograph that’s has been photographed 15 years ago?  How do I date it?  I like that kind of challenge.” 

The Defacing of Son Sen’s Photograph. Toul Sleng (S-21) Genocide Museum, Phnom Penh. 2007. Dani Planas Labad.

In conversation many favourite choices spring up as examples.  “There’s a photo from the early days of colour printing, inside a French restaurant, Café de Paris, on Post Office Square in 1966.  You can see the early 60s light fittings, a Miro-esque painting on the raw concrete floor, and exposed bricks.  Most photography books are full of the best of photographs, by the most well-known photographers, good quality prints, and some would say why are you putting crap photographs like this in?  But I have no qualms about including social history. No doubt this was taken by a Cambodian rather than French photographer, working for Kambuja Illustrated Monthly, one of the popular magazines at the time.” 

Patrons dining at the Café du Paris, Phnom Penh. 1966. Photographer unknown. Kambuja Monthly Illustrated Review, October 15, 1966. Center for Khmer Studies Library, Siem Reap.

So what were the selection criteria for images to be included?  “A photo that really catches the eye, or that captures a really important historical or cultural moment, or knowing the reputation of photographers that had a good eye.  Just using those rough three choices really helped to fill out the bulk, and then it was just a case of idiosyncratic things to put in the big pile, and laying out pages, seeing how they work, seeing rhythms or counter-rhythms. 

“When it came to twenty-first century and contemporary photographers working now in Cambodia I passed the curation over to Jessica Lim of the Angkor Photo Festival and Workshops, and just peppered in some social history stuff, like dental x-rays, found objects, thus breaking down the structure of the photographer as artist and showing a richer stream of imagery.”

Photography in Cambodia: 1866 To The Present, all 1.3 kilograms of it, is now available in Phnom Penh at the Minimalist Café & Bookshop, Gallery Pi-Pet-Pi and the National Museum for $39.99.

Currently at The Plantation is a new exhibition, Eyes of Cranes, by Chhan Dina.  Unfortunately, the November 28 community event forced cancellation of the opening, but the show has gone on, and you can visit, taking appropriate precautions, daily. 

Like much of her recent work, Dina’s paintings on display are inspired by the natural environment.  “Wherever I go I always look around me, especially at the trees,” she says.  “Young artists often only think about beauty, to make a nice painting.  A water buffalo in the sunset at Angkor Wat.  And of course art work can be beautiful, but it needs to have some meaning.  I may work on the same ideas for many years, I keep coming back to the same themes and subjects, but I never get bored. 

There has been a gradual movement in Dina’s work from capturing humans in activity and in family, over to the natural world, and the same analogous relationships.  “I worked at Friends International, Mith Samlanh, for many years, and I worked with a lot of street kids, and painted a lot of street kids.”  She sees the change as slight.   “Life as a bird is very family-oriented.  They build the nest, they have their babies and feed them, protect them.   When first went to Ratanakiri, Mondulkiri, it changed my life.  I felt different.  I saw things in my that I had never seen before.  I was particularly inspired by cranes.   The light, the reflections, can create something unique.” 

After starting small, Dina is now an established artist in Phnom Penh.  “I was 13 years old when I started to draw.  At 17, 18, I became an artist, I had an exhibition at Java Café, people bought my work.  I gave up for a while, maybe one year, then I came back.  I did whatever I wanted to do, because of my youth and freedom.  I kept on going, painting, painting, I like it, because this is what I can do.  And this is what I want to share to young people in Cambodia – to be without art is to have nothing.  It’s something you can share about your own country, your own self.  Can you imagine what life would look like without art, without music?” 

For all the nature painting, Dina’s work is more impressionistic and abstract than naturalist.  “My teacher said paint from your imagination, add something, make it  different.  He said ‘I want to see your brain make something bigger.  First I said, ‘Are you crazy?’  Now I know.  You don’t have to paint just what you see, you can paint your own version.  Think about Salvador Dali – do something strange!  Why does the animal have such long legs?  Why are there stairs going into the sky?  You can do whatever you want in your imagination.” 

Dina sees herself as part of a continuum of centuries of art in Cambodia.  “Angkor Wat inspires me so much, I’m never tired of that.  I see cranes and other carved into the temple walls.  Those generations of artists and my generation are connected.  I am proud to be an artist, and I am proud of my country.  We have something very special.  I love sculpture, and I see the Angkor Wat sculpture – if a take a photo you will forget, but when you see it and remember it, you will never forget.   The Angkor Wat smile has teeth, the apsaras have different faces – not just one artist or two artists, maybe hundreds or thousands of artists at work.  I’m so proud of the art of Cambodia.” 

However it troubles her that artists in Cambodia are often thought of as low status.  “Some Cambodian people think that art is nothing.  Don’t care about art, but care about expensive handbags, expensive sunglasses.  But who designs the bags and the glasses?  Artists.  So how do we get people to respect art?  When  I joined Cambodian Living Arts for one year, I researched art and culture in Cambodia, I went to Thailand, Vietnam, and different places, to see art in museums and galleries.  I’ve also been to museums in Britain and the Netherlands.  I wondered is it local people or tourists who visit?  In Cambodia, only expats buy the art work and place a good value on art.  But there is a lack of support for artists in Cambodia.  Who is going to buy?” 

Dina is a prolific artist, with an enthusiasm to try different media and styles. “I have no patience when I paint.  I always want to be finished, I can’t wait to be finished.  But sometimes it takes time.  And sometimes I paint two at the same time, so that when I cannot move forward because it needs to dry I can move to another one.  Then I break for a while, come back and look at the first and see what new perspective I can bring. 

“When I use ink or I use oil, the results are completely different.  Working in oil takes a long time, while working in ink – a few days and done.  So the techniques are different.  My ink work is different from others who have been working in ink for many years, so my approach creates something new.” 

So as the artist matures, the more you look the more you see?  “Exactly!” 

Eyes of Cranes runs until January 4. 

One of the many responses to the pandemic around the world this year has been a burst of creative and literary works.  This Saturday night at Cloud in Phnom Penh an event organised by the Siem Reap based HOWL Cambodia will celebrate this wave, launching a book, Face Masks & Hand Gels: A year of living COVIDly, a collection put together by Dr Howl himself, along with spoken word contributions from local writers and readers.  The Howl Word Jam is a spoken word format that brings together lovers of words, as creators and also appreciators of poetry and prose.   Dr Howl – Wayne McCallum – was good enough to answer some of Kumnooh’s questions. 

What was the genesis and inspiration of the HOWL concept?

One of the experiences I enjoyed during my involvement in the Kampot Writers and Readers Festival was discussions and events with fellow writers, publishers and poets. Having moved to Siem Reap in 2017 I had the idea—instead of repeating the festival experience — of using the flexibility of the ‘pop-up’ approach to curate regular ‘word’ events. These could entail anything from a talk with a visiting writer, a poetry workshop, a book launch or an open mic event. In fact anything where the ‘word’ was king (or queen).  

To me, HOWL seemed the perfect name choice and motif for the platform. Not only is it a call that carries from one to another, as words do, but it is also the title of the most famous poem by the influential beat writer, Alan Ginsberg. As inspiration it seemed well chosen, for the words and imaginary Ginsberg evoked in Howl opened up possibilities to how we write, speak — and with the story of the poem’s printing — how we publish. These are all values that I would like HOWL to nurture. Interestingly Ginsberg visited Siem Reap in 1963, his time there inspiring the long-form poem Ankor Wat (sic), a work whose meandering verse suggested that he partook in some local herb before his temple excursions.

Will this be the first HOWL event outside Siem Reap? Are more planned?

I know there has been a HOWL event in Kampot and I was approached about one being organised in Los Angeles, although I do not know if that went ahead. From my perspective, however, anyone can hold a HOWL event. This is the key — I do not see the concept as being owned by me — it’s like the call itself, one wolf howls and then another responses in its own way, the sound, like words, carrying on across terra firma and beyond.

Our next scheduled event after Phnom Penh will be a HOWL Word Jam in Siem Reap in February 2021. Other things tend to ‘pop-up’, which is what the platform is all about.

Siem Reap has obviously been hit harder than most areas in Cambodia during the year of living covidly due to the shutdown of international tourism. At the same time around the world the varied experiences of people during the pandemic has created a need for people to express themselves. Is it fair to say that the collation of Face Masks & Hand Gels is a response to these two intersecting pressures?

In the early days of the pandemic in Siem Reap HOWL chose to dedicate a page of its website to poetic and narrative expressions of the new circumstances. The idea was to give people an opportunity to express their feelings and an outlet for sharing them. With these goals I think it was successful, with different contributors getting back to me to say how cathartic they found the process of putting their feelings into words.

I should point out that contributions to the anthology came from beyond Cambodia – from Japan, Panama and France, as well as my native home, New Zealand.

It is indeed a varied collection, representing established writers as well as inspired amateurs – was it difficult to make the choices about what to include?

I took an ‘analytical’ approach, Google Analytics actually, and looked at what pieces had received the most hits and reading time. I also took a more human approach and included what I enjoyed reading. I also wanted to encourage diversity and delight, so this ensured some additional pieces were included. In the end it was not too difficult to hit on the final writings for submission.

Can you explain the significance of the cover design?

The cover is one for HOWL aficionados, as it is based on the original cover face for the City Lights publication of Ginsberg’s poem.

How will the HOWL Word Jam in Phnom Penh proceed? Is it too late for interested writers and readers to sign up to take part?

The PP event will feature a combination of ‘old souls’ — that is known readers such as Kosal Khiev, Jose Antonio Pineda and Scott Bywater — as well as ‘new voices’; by this I mean newbies to the reading world, who will have the opportunity to perform during the open mic portion of the evening. Typically a Word Jam features three or more sessions, with time between to visit the bar and talk to friends.

We will also dedicate a portion of the evening to readings from the anthology, from the original writers.

People can sign up on the night to read and we are open to all forms of the word, from poetry, fiction or non-, as well as original or non-original pieces. They main caveat is that a piece should be no longer than 5 minutes in length. Meanwhile, to encourage ‘new voices’, we will have a prize for ‘Best New Voice’ and ‘Best Khmer Voice’ on the night. Keep on howling . . .

Howl Word Jam and book launch at Cloud, St 9, Phnom Penh, from 7 pm.
Note: Copies of Face Masks & Hand Gels will be available for purchase on the night for the special price of $5.