Sunday, 29 November 2009
Shadow Play
Rhythm of the 21st Century -Monologues of Raja Shahriman, Galeri Petronas, KLCC
29th October 2009 to 24th January 2010.
Galeri Petronas, at KLCC, is currently (at the time of writing) holding an extensive exhibition of Raja Shahriman b Raja Aziddin’s more recent work, including the paintings and sketches which help form a body of knowledge regarding his contemporary dynamic black metal sculptures.
The gallery visitor will see that Raja Shahriman’s sublimely martial black painted metal sculptures, in their concreteness, exist somewhere between the German H.R.Giger’s alien grotesques and those mythological sculptures of the British artist Michael Ayrton. It is between the menace of Giger’s fantasy grotesques and the forceful beauty of Ayrton’s mythological sculptures that Shahriman’s figures are allowed to exist, beautiful, but deadly, bullet bandoliered, starkly creatures of violence and destruction, extant in a poignant anti-war epiphany.
Yet Raja Shahriman’s forms, differing from those of H. R. Giger, replete with cartridge belt spines and masks, which render them terrifyingly anonymous, seem to represent, more accurately, the frighteningly vicious nature of man, against man, in brutal warfare. And, although Raja Shahriman’s constructs, to some extent, bear a mythos and a weight similar to those of Michael Ayrton – Ayrton’s minotaurs, or figures of Daedalus, show a gravitas and groundedness not apparent in those of Raja Shahriman, where cold steel is twisted to depict nightmarish warriors of evil.
There is an undeniable uncanny grace to Raja Shahriman’s sculptures’ lethal poses. At times, they appear as ferocious manga ninja, frozen in violent combative acts, twisted black metal shards and spikes piercing into the visitor’s subconscious, bringing, perhaps, the minutest of shivers down spines composed not of braces of bullets, as are those of Raja Shahriman’s figures, but of fragile flesh and bone. At other times, those figures resemble warmongering metal automatons; contemporary Robocops; Star Wars Battle Droids or bizarre metal skeletons, constructed perhaps by Ray Harryhausen for some, yet, unmade film.
The obvious strength of the sculptures, their hard metal musculature, their surreal/art noveau curvatures, poise, bandoliers of bullets all combine to impose their obviously martial nightmare imagery onto the innocently unsuspecting audience, with great success.
While the actual weighty metal sculptures stand, rooted to their plinths, the interplay of gallery lighting throws (Jungian?) shadows onto the gallery floor, and across grey painted walls. They are impossible to miss. A discerning visitor might get the feeling that is where the real story lies, not with posed metal, but with stark, projected, contorted shadows.
Creative shadows cast from Raja Shahriman’s commanding sculptures, born literally of light and dark, creep as dark figures rising from Disney’s Night on Bald Mountain (Fantasia 1940), or Ring Wraiths from Ralph Bakshi’s animated Lord of the Rings (1978).
In Disney’s Night on Bald Mountain, a huge dark-winged figure rises from the mighty mountain, spreading shadow over a sleeping village, drawing souls into Hell. Once there, silhouetted figures cavort, dance until the winged figure gathers them up, once more, and then casts them down, into Erté-like smoke and Faust-like furnaces.
Raja Shahriman’s shadows give the appearance of cavorting, dancing, twisting, curling, bending to reveal the archetypal black soul of war mongering sculptures. A slightest movement of light, a tremor, shudder, has shadows squirming, shifting, and moving across the gallery, shape shifting in their own repressed delight of nascent evil.
Wandering the Galeri Petronas there is the shadow of the object – Wira Perkasa (Brave Hero), creeping, peeping over its plinth, seemingly ready to make an attack on the hero who stands profound, unaware that his legacy of violence forever ties him to the shadow, and to his spine of war. Then, again, with Kancah Kashmir (Kashmir’s Arena) (2008), but this time three subconscious shadows break out into the gallery, unnervingly piercing, thrusting towards the other plinths, stealthily feeling their dark way towards them, but, then, also towards the innocent visitor, writhing in some deathly surreal dance towards them.
Observing the dark of the shadows springing from objects they had once been bound to, is thrilling, but unnerving. The gallery dances to a very different dynamic. Objects posed for visitors while shadows free themselves to challenge, question and, ultimately like the gladiators they undoubtedly are, fight in the new arena of Galeri Petronas.
Like vicious wayang kulit (traditional shadow play puppets) rhino- horned shadows, thrown against grey walls, pierce into the gallery. Others stab, cutting into the space between plinths, between walls, floors and visitors - nowhere seems safe from the forms, formed from fractious footcandles of light.
Gejolak Api (Fire’s big flames) and Maharajalela (Rampage) stand, opposing each to the other in one small offshoot from the main gallery. Sculptural Daliesque hands/arms extend, one challenging figure towards the other, twisted shadows displaying root/tendril-like curvatures thrusting writhing towards each other.
A startled gallery visitor, seeing the combative challenge might expect an engagement at any moment, and the spewing of black metal amidst the dark gallery flames, yes; it was to come, but only in our enriched imaginations.
Further around the gallery, with some nameless victory won - the figure Panji Hitam (Black Flag) mightily raises a flag to strike into its own wooden plinth, no doubt symbolising an ending of warfare, its bandolier of bullets, so pronounced in the figures of others throughout the gallery, absent.
The formerly repressed shadow of Panji Hitam , however, reveals that the flag is no full stop to conflict. It is simply another weapon, for the blackness is throughout, regardless now, of whether there are, or are not bullets, for now any weapon will do, as the formerly repressed shadow becomes liberated. For humanity, long suckled on war and violence has become addicted to the trill, the power and, ultimately - the mayhem.
Raja Shahriman b Raja Aziddin’s work, exhibited at Galeri Petronas is a triumph, not just in the creation of the works themselves, but also in the craft of their display. It is the carefully considered display of these sculptures, especially, which enhances the poignancy of the works, with deftly placed lighting, which adds the extra dimension and final touches to the overall exhibition, and reveals the soul of Raja Shahriman’s works.
29th October 2009 to 24th January 2010.
Galeri Petronas, at KLCC, is currently (at the time of writing) holding an extensive exhibition of Raja Shahriman b Raja Aziddin’s more recent work, including the paintings and sketches which help form a body of knowledge regarding his contemporary dynamic black metal sculptures.
The gallery visitor will see that Raja Shahriman’s sublimely martial black painted metal sculptures, in their concreteness, exist somewhere between the German H.R.Giger’s alien grotesques and those mythological sculptures of the British artist Michael Ayrton. It is between the menace of Giger’s fantasy grotesques and the forceful beauty of Ayrton’s mythological sculptures that Shahriman’s figures are allowed to exist, beautiful, but deadly, bullet bandoliered, starkly creatures of violence and destruction, extant in a poignant anti-war epiphany.
Yet Raja Shahriman’s forms, differing from those of H. R. Giger, replete with cartridge belt spines and masks, which render them terrifyingly anonymous, seem to represent, more accurately, the frighteningly vicious nature of man, against man, in brutal warfare. And, although Raja Shahriman’s constructs, to some extent, bear a mythos and a weight similar to those of Michael Ayrton – Ayrton’s minotaurs, or figures of Daedalus, show a gravitas and groundedness not apparent in those of Raja Shahriman, where cold steel is twisted to depict nightmarish warriors of evil.
There is an undeniable uncanny grace to Raja Shahriman’s sculptures’ lethal poses. At times, they appear as ferocious manga ninja, frozen in violent combative acts, twisted black metal shards and spikes piercing into the visitor’s subconscious, bringing, perhaps, the minutest of shivers down spines composed not of braces of bullets, as are those of Raja Shahriman’s figures, but of fragile flesh and bone. At other times, those figures resemble warmongering metal automatons; contemporary Robocops; Star Wars Battle Droids or bizarre metal skeletons, constructed perhaps by Ray Harryhausen for some, yet, unmade film.
The obvious strength of the sculptures, their hard metal musculature, their surreal/art noveau curvatures, poise, bandoliers of bullets all combine to impose their obviously martial nightmare imagery onto the innocently unsuspecting audience, with great success.
While the actual weighty metal sculptures stand, rooted to their plinths, the interplay of gallery lighting throws (Jungian?) shadows onto the gallery floor, and across grey painted walls. They are impossible to miss. A discerning visitor might get the feeling that is where the real story lies, not with posed metal, but with stark, projected, contorted shadows.
Creative shadows cast from Raja Shahriman’s commanding sculptures, born literally of light and dark, creep as dark figures rising from Disney’s Night on Bald Mountain (Fantasia 1940), or Ring Wraiths from Ralph Bakshi’s animated Lord of the Rings (1978).
In Disney’s Night on Bald Mountain, a huge dark-winged figure rises from the mighty mountain, spreading shadow over a sleeping village, drawing souls into Hell. Once there, silhouetted figures cavort, dance until the winged figure gathers them up, once more, and then casts them down, into Erté-like smoke and Faust-like furnaces.
Raja Shahriman’s shadows give the appearance of cavorting, dancing, twisting, curling, bending to reveal the archetypal black soul of war mongering sculptures. A slightest movement of light, a tremor, shudder, has shadows squirming, shifting, and moving across the gallery, shape shifting in their own repressed delight of nascent evil.
Wandering the Galeri Petronas there is the shadow of the object – Wira Perkasa (Brave Hero), creeping, peeping over its plinth, seemingly ready to make an attack on the hero who stands profound, unaware that his legacy of violence forever ties him to the shadow, and to his spine of war. Then, again, with Kancah Kashmir (Kashmir’s Arena) (2008), but this time three subconscious shadows break out into the gallery, unnervingly piercing, thrusting towards the other plinths, stealthily feeling their dark way towards them, but, then, also towards the innocent visitor, writhing in some deathly surreal dance towards them.
Observing the dark of the shadows springing from objects they had once been bound to, is thrilling, but unnerving. The gallery dances to a very different dynamic. Objects posed for visitors while shadows free themselves to challenge, question and, ultimately like the gladiators they undoubtedly are, fight in the new arena of Galeri Petronas.
Like vicious wayang kulit (traditional shadow play puppets) rhino- horned shadows, thrown against grey walls, pierce into the gallery. Others stab, cutting into the space between plinths, between walls, floors and visitors - nowhere seems safe from the forms, formed from fractious footcandles of light.
Gejolak Api (Fire’s big flames) and Maharajalela (Rampage) stand, opposing each to the other in one small offshoot from the main gallery. Sculptural Daliesque hands/arms extend, one challenging figure towards the other, twisted shadows displaying root/tendril-like curvatures thrusting writhing towards each other.
A startled gallery visitor, seeing the combative challenge might expect an engagement at any moment, and the spewing of black metal amidst the dark gallery flames, yes; it was to come, but only in our enriched imaginations.
Further around the gallery, with some nameless victory won - the figure Panji Hitam (Black Flag) mightily raises a flag to strike into its own wooden plinth, no doubt symbolising an ending of warfare, its bandolier of bullets, so pronounced in the figures of others throughout the gallery, absent.
The formerly repressed shadow of Panji Hitam , however, reveals that the flag is no full stop to conflict. It is simply another weapon, for the blackness is throughout, regardless now, of whether there are, or are not bullets, for now any weapon will do, as the formerly repressed shadow becomes liberated. For humanity, long suckled on war and violence has become addicted to the trill, the power and, ultimately - the mayhem.
Raja Shahriman b Raja Aziddin’s work, exhibited at Galeri Petronas is a triumph, not just in the creation of the works themselves, but also in the craft of their display. It is the carefully considered display of these sculptures, especially, which enhances the poignancy of the works, with deftly placed lighting, which adds the extra dimension and final touches to the overall exhibition, and reveals the soul of Raja Shahriman’s works.
Friday, 27 November 2009
Talented Perak
If you look very, very carefully there is a long list of very talented people associated with the enigmatic silver state of Perak. From the ubiquitous literary talents of Tash Aw (writer) to the eminently delectable actress Michelle Yeoh, their stars forever shine in the heavens of the international firmament.
Aside - In my haste to impart this, I am not, of course, forgetting either my old mate, the silver-tongued Patrick Teoh (broadcaster, acerbic writer and thespian), or fellow writer, and thoroughly nice individual, Preeta Samarasan.
However, what you may, or may not know is that there are still many mega-talented people, who actually prefer to live in the silver state, rather than write about it from afar. They are brave, hearty souls who shun the bright lights and big cities to live in the comparative quiet of a rural setting, wherein they may listen to their hearts and comprehend their muse – not read the SMS screen and facebook themselves out of existence.
It was recently, having well girded my loins - not lions you notice or any other predatory feline, I actually got out from under a whole herd of water buffalo; stepped out from my misnamed studio, kick-started my monolithic jeep and reached out to the cowering world at large, to meet with some (hopefully) fellow humans.
In my questing I was hugely fortunate enough to meet with two charmingly gifted sons of Perak – Raja Shahriman b Rja Aziddin (aka Raja Shahriman), sculptor, painter and all round nice guy, and, equally as nice, contemporary artist, musician and academic Kamal Sabran.
To be fair, I only met Raja Shahriman en passant as it were - while he was accompanying my buddy, the artist Rafiee Ghani, in Kuala Lumpur, but shortly excused himself to return to his beloved state and family. I sincerely hope to meet more fully with Raja Shahriman at a later date, perhaps in his residence at Kuala Kangsar, where he creates the sculptures he is known for. Kamal Sabran I met, in Ipoh, at a makak restaurant to talk about his forthcoming music CD entitled The Space Gambus Experiment - more of that later.
Raja Shahriman currently has an exhibition of his profound sculptures, paintings and sketches at the Galeri Petronas, KLCC, Kuala Lumpur; profound, in the sense that within the painted, twisted metal forms lays a greater depth of meaning, and signification too.
While it is the three dimensionality of Raja Shahriman’s sculpted forms which greets the visitor at first glance, on second spine tingling glimpse they notice the intricate play of light on the works, and, obviously, the vividness of the shadows. For it is within the forms of those pronounced shadows, spread from the sculptures that give them life, which the artist’s greatness comes into play. Through Raja Shahriman’s mastery of his medium, he deftly reveals the vicious shadow creatures, which inhabit the rabid consciousness of the brutal warrior - his martial spine a bandolier of bullets.
People of a nervous disposition might stand in the corner of one of the galleries, staring at Raja Shahriman’s sculptures, waiting for the blatant shadows to come to life, so eerily real are they, in an abstract way. These same visitors, out of the corner of one eye, may see shadows, as if in a wayang kulit play, engage in their incipient warfare, rising out from curved metal flames and doing battle with tendril-like hands and protuberances, which may in our imaginations, be fashioned as swords.
While the shadows of Raja Shahriman’s sculptures eerily poise for battle, Kamal Sabran’s music CD soothes those parts that other music CDs cannot soothe, with its unique blend of sounds from space and music from the traditional Malay gambus (a lute like instrument).
Just back from Kuala Lumpur, promoting his short film – LUMPUR, for 15 Malaysia, Kamal Sabran spoke with me about his collaboration with Mohd Zulkifi Ramli, and the unique music they have created for the CD The Space Gambus Experiment.
An observant reader will have noticed the word – Space in the title of this CD, as in The Space Gambus Experiment, and maybe scratched an itchy follicle or two on its significance. To put your inquisitive minds at rest, I am not referring to some post-hippy, pseudo-psychedelia, but in this case – real Space, as in ‘one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’, the National Space Agency and the planet Jupiter.
Kamal Sabran developed ‘Sonic Cosmic Music from Outer Space’, while he was ‘artist in residence’ at the National Space Agency and some of that celestial material, along with the more traditional gambus music, graces this present album. It is therefore a credit to both Kamal Sabran and to Mohd Zulkifi Ramli, that together they have been able to create such a distinctive and richly melodic sound.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
The Space Gambus Experiment
A new music CD, launched December 2009, introduces the mesmerising sounds of The Space Gambus Experiment to an expectant audience. This landmark work is the result of a unique collaboration, not only between the two presenting musicians – Mohd Zulkifli Ramli (Gambud/Oud) and Kamal Sabran (electro – acoustic) but also between the traditional and the contemporary in modern Malaysian music.
For this ‘experiment’ Kamal Sabran has engaged the talents of Mohd Zulkifli Ramli, to bring the uniquely symbolic music of the Malay gambus (a lute like instrument), into play, perhaps with the intention of playing point, counterpoint to Kamal’s adventurous sound making.
An observant reader will have noticed the word – Space in the title of this CD, as in The Space Gambus Experiment, and maybe scratched an itchy follicle or two on its significance. To put your inquisitive minds at rest, I am not referring to some post-hippy, pseudo-psychedelia, but in this case – real Space, as in ‘one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’, the National Space Agency and the planet Jupiter.
Among Kamal’s many projects as an artist and musician, and following his partiality to meld science with art, Kamal had worked as an ‘artist in residence’ at the Malaysian National Space Agency, between 2005 and 2006.
There he developed ‘Sonic Cosmic Music from Outer Space’, which was later performed at the planetarium. It was at the National Space Agency that Kamal began experimenting with radio waves, received through the radio telescope, from the planet Jupiter as it was orbiting over Malaysian skies. Some of that celestial material, along with the more traditional gambus music, graces this present album.
With a world rapidly churning out the latest talking blues gangsta rapper, wannabe TV starlet/singer or bootilicious boy/babe dressed hot to kill, it has become a case of never mind that he/she cannot actually sing but look at that boy/girl go.
It therefore comes as a great relief that artist/designer/musician/academician Kamal Sabran quests on the fringes of ‘noise’ and ‘melody’ to bring us this unexpected gem of a CD – The Space Gambus Experiment. Co-incidentally, Kamal, rapidly becoming a Malaysian renaissance man, has also designed the layout and cover of this visually, as well as musically, exciting CD.
Those of you who have been intently following the contemporary arts scene, or who have been nose-diving into arts listings or even shrewd enough to access on-line Malaysian arts reviewers, recently, will have seen Kamal as part of 15 Malaysia.
15 Malaysia was a project consisting of a series of 15 short films, concerning the realities, and some fantasies, of life in Malaysia. Kamal’s entry – LUMPUR (mud), is about, strangely enough, mud, or rather what it comprises of. This short film explores people’s association with land, ownership, water and earth, leaving the audience pondering these subjects.
‘Lumpur’ saw Kamal as film director, editor, musician and composer, along with the legendary Pete Teo as overall producer.
Music from ‘LUMPUR’ - Ruang Kosong Remix, containing sounds taken from soil and water, add an ‘organic’ element to the soundtrack, and appears on the CD The Space Gambus Experiment.
Out of the canon of Kamal Sabran’s musical enterprises, this CD offers what may be his most accessible compositions, with a more direct focus on instrumental melodies, intertwined with electronic abstract resonance. Certainly, with this innovative CD, Kamal has moved, ever so slightly, away from the more distinctly avant-garde Terry Riley, or, perhaps Max Neuhaus inspired sound experiments he is known for - towards a more rounded sound imagery, infinitely more palatable for the general, lay public, as well as proving stimulating for the discerning music lover.
For this ‘experiment’ Kamal Sabran has engaged the talents of Mohd Zulkifli Ramli, to bring the uniquely symbolic music of the Malay gambus (a lute like instrument), into play, perhaps with the intention of playing point, counterpoint to Kamal’s adventurous sound making.
An observant reader will have noticed the word – Space in the title of this CD, as in The Space Gambus Experiment, and maybe scratched an itchy follicle or two on its significance. To put your inquisitive minds at rest, I am not referring to some post-hippy, pseudo-psychedelia, but in this case – real Space, as in ‘one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’, the National Space Agency and the planet Jupiter.
Among Kamal’s many projects as an artist and musician, and following his partiality to meld science with art, Kamal had worked as an ‘artist in residence’ at the Malaysian National Space Agency, between 2005 and 2006.
There he developed ‘Sonic Cosmic Music from Outer Space’, which was later performed at the planetarium. It was at the National Space Agency that Kamal began experimenting with radio waves, received through the radio telescope, from the planet Jupiter as it was orbiting over Malaysian skies. Some of that celestial material, along with the more traditional gambus music, graces this present album.
With a world rapidly churning out the latest talking blues gangsta rapper, wannabe TV starlet/singer or bootilicious boy/babe dressed hot to kill, it has become a case of never mind that he/she cannot actually sing but look at that boy/girl go.
It therefore comes as a great relief that artist/designer/musician/academician Kamal Sabran quests on the fringes of ‘noise’ and ‘melody’ to bring us this unexpected gem of a CD – The Space Gambus Experiment. Co-incidentally, Kamal, rapidly becoming a Malaysian renaissance man, has also designed the layout and cover of this visually, as well as musically, exciting CD.
Those of you who have been intently following the contemporary arts scene, or who have been nose-diving into arts listings or even shrewd enough to access on-line Malaysian arts reviewers, recently, will have seen Kamal as part of 15 Malaysia.
15 Malaysia was a project consisting of a series of 15 short films, concerning the realities, and some fantasies, of life in Malaysia. Kamal’s entry – LUMPUR (mud), is about, strangely enough, mud, or rather what it comprises of. This short film explores people’s association with land, ownership, water and earth, leaving the audience pondering these subjects.
‘Lumpur’ saw Kamal as film director, editor, musician and composer, along with the legendary Pete Teo as overall producer.
Music from ‘LUMPUR’ - Ruang Kosong Remix, containing sounds taken from soil and water, add an ‘organic’ element to the soundtrack, and appears on the CD The Space Gambus Experiment.
Out of the canon of Kamal Sabran’s musical enterprises, this CD offers what may be his most accessible compositions, with a more direct focus on instrumental melodies, intertwined with electronic abstract resonance. Certainly, with this innovative CD, Kamal has moved, ever so slightly, away from the more distinctly avant-garde Terry Riley, or, perhaps Max Neuhaus inspired sound experiments he is known for - towards a more rounded sound imagery, infinitely more palatable for the general, lay public, as well as proving stimulating for the discerning music lover.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)