Always Leafing Never Staying

Always Leafing Never Staying, 2006

Continuing the series of digital artworks created while I was living in rural Malaysia.

I had started using digital layering in Photoshop back in England, some decade and a half ago. By the time I have left England for Malaysia I had given up physical painting altogether. I just was not practical to carry bags of gouache colours and paintbrushes around with me.

Digital layering relies on me taking many digital photographic images of the countryside around me, often cutting out the main image, by hand, then adding different photographs, in layers and manipulating their density, colour, sometimes erasing parts of the photographs to let other layers show through.

The final image is arrived at in a process similar to abstract painting, in so much as you know, roughly, where you want to end up but anything can, and does, happen along the way. I stress that ALL the images I use are taken by me, not rummaged from the internet. It is important that I am the whole originator of these images, that I have selected the images all the way through the process trying to ascertain the 'essence' of Malaysian rural life, at any one moment in time.

Nik Rafin Rich Tapestry

What initially intrigues the tentative viewer of Nik Rafin's paintings, is the vibrancy of the colours that the artist has chosen to speak for his feelings. No tablet or computer screen viewed JPEG, or four-colour print reproduction, is able to fully satisfy that sight, or capture the sheer beauty of the work of art as you gaze wistfully before it. Catalogues and brochures, as important as they are, and as expansive and informative as they are, cannot compete with being face to face with a work of art. This is true of meeting an object, soon to be desired, in an adroit artisan temple set aside for such adoration (e.g. Artisan Fine Art Gallery).

Eckhart Tolle has mentioned that “Presence is needed to become aware of the beauty, the majesty, the sacredness of nature.” That presence exists in the uniqueness of the moment when attending a work of art. It is a, practically, sublime moment of ‘viewing’ which in Sanskrit is ‘Darshan’ , and in Japanese ‘Satori’.  Walter Benjamin, (in “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, 1936) states that “The presence of the original is the prerequisite to the concept of authenticity.’ In other words, we can only be certain of authenticity, or ‘realness’, when we are in the presence of the actual work of art. Likewise a work of art reveals its own ‘realness’, its own narrative and not simply a mirroring of its surrounds or of society (Plato’s mimesis).

This uniqueness of the viewing moment, of the gaze if you will, is especially true when in the company of the vibrant paintings created by this up-coming artist Nik Rafin. Rafin studied in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and brought a soul full of experiences back from America to his motherland, Malaysia. Practising variously as a graphic artist, illustrator as well as a fine artist, Rafin has nursed a bond with the simplicity and cleanness of line work and a need to give depth and volume to his acrylic painted canvases. The fusion of the woven and inherent depth of barely seen imagery demonstrates itself in Rafin’s ‘Mindscape' and ‘Earthscape' series. In these there is an intermingling of circles, demi-circles and oblique abstractions, which the artist holds together by an entanglement of strands which could, in a creative future, become the double helix of the painter’s own DNA.

In his earlier works, Rafin has rendered visual ‘dances’ of line, exploring colour and shape relationships (Earthscape Series) with the need for a definitive subject matter. At times he has injected subjects into his work, melded them with the abstract and, as time has progressed, we see more and more subjects resonating with the vibrancy of his abstractions. His timely paintings of ‘8 Wild Horses’, coming in the Chinese year of the horse, reflects the multicultural nature of Rafin’s home country - Malaysia. The horses prance and dance, some spot lit in white, manes flowing to the energy of the canvas, others turning heads in the mid-ground, neighing, stallions rampant with the luxury of their freedom. Other horses, tamed for the race, remind the visitors of Malaysia’s love for the racing horse. Another eight horses, this time ridden by diminutive jockeys, their boots standing in race stirrups set high near the lightweight saddles, thunder in the race. Orange abstractions, circles, weave, help place the browns of the horses and lighter colours of their riders.

Rafin’s canvases portray the swift energies of constant movement. Gazing at Rafin’s work, you might wish to recall those images of the Italian Futurist painters Natalia Sergeevna (The Cyclist, 1912 - 1913), and Pablo Piccaso’s friend Carlo Carra (The Red Horseman, 1912) as they attempted to capture movement onto their canvases. Carra, like Rafin, was intrigued with the motion of horses, painting them time after time (The Horsemen of the Apocalypse, 1908, Horse and Rider, 1913, Pursuit,1915). Could we, perhaps, refer to Rafin as a new Malaysian Futurist, painting fluidity and the grace of movement? Rafin, like Carra (Football Match,1934) renders all the rush of the football tackle, as his colourful footballers (Football Celebration, 2014) dash towards the viewer from out of the rich tapestry of a green woven background, their rush and their deftness as sportsmen revealed in Rafin’s painting.

Throughout these more recent images, Rafin has intricately rendered an organically woven background into his energetically multiple-layered paintings. A background, perhaps representative of weft and warp of life, a weaving together of intricate and infinite narratives with his graphically complex strands. Together, it is those myriad painstakingly painted strands which adhere the narrative to the artist's telling yarn (story). 

It is with these deft, carefully placed and carefully chosen, ribbons of colour that the artist becomes a wanton weaver of skilfully chosen cultural narratives. The artist images the strength and the resilience of fully engaged riders, as they push their burdened beasts to the all-important finish line. Rafin reveals the dedication, and power, of race horses galloping, legs pounding, stretched at full thunder of hooves with lust for the race, at one with their mounts. In other scenes, Rafin presents the explosive energy of the dhol, dholak and tabla with their high energy beats vibrating a rhythm to which the movement of Bhangra dancers (2014) cavort. Rafin is a precise painter.

In other, older, heads stylistically Rafin’s works might remind gallery visitors of The Beatles' (black and white) 'Revolver' album cover (1966). The popular music hero foursome, peeking from Klaus Voorman's sublime illustration of strands of graphic hair. The visitor may gaze and remember the painted (not photoshopped) works of Makinti Napanangka, revealing the aborigine Women’s Hair String Ceremony (karrkirritinyja) for, according to Paul Klee, ‘drawing is simply a line going for a walk’, and this is something that Rafin delights in, amidst the spaces of his wonderfully woven, acrylic strands.

The artist Nik Rafin, is a delicate delineator. He is an enricher of sight, with canvases spinning multifarious multicultural tales of Malaysia, from the hoof pounding thrill of Penang races to ebullient Bhangra dancers leaping from the Punjab. It is as if art historical (Italian) Futurism has liaised with an Asian present, producing a fresh style which becomes engaged with all the excitement and dynamism of carefully captured movement. 

Whatever the painterly references of these stimulating works, there is little doubt that the artist, Nik Rafin, has successfully captured all the exertion, endurance and potency of a variety of figures in movement. He has put before us remarkably stimulating colours, against a sublime background of an essential weave. It is for us to gaze into these works, become one with them and discover the artist’s movement and imagery.  

Kampung House

Kampung House 2007

Malaysia's rural villages have many legends. If stories are to be believed there are many ghosts, not just supernatural but echoes of tragic stories left behind by families, lovers and unique interactions by rural humanity.

For almost seven years I travelled along rough tracks in my Jeep, taking my camera with me. There were so many wooden kampung houses just left to rot as the previous owners had died, and the younger generations had fled to the towns and cities to make the living they were unable to do in those secreted villages.

All along the kampung dirt tracks, overshadowed by banana and coconut trees there were these dilapidated buildings waiting to fall, covered in flora and immense character. Snakes and insects had made them home in a mosquito filled environment. Termites built hills nearby the small forgotten orchards of rambutan and mango, colourful beetles launched from unkempt torch ginger flowers to land on bushes of pandan.

Art Writing in Malaysia

Having been writing about Malaysian art for at least nine years, I know that I shouldn’t be, but I am still surprised by the sheer vacuousness of what currently passes for some art writing in Malaysia. I make a distinction, however, between the two types of art gallery - the one which is highly professional and entreats good writing from people prominent in the field of art, and those that do are not, and do not. 

It is to the latter that I address the following……..

There are convoluted and confused catalogue or brochure prefaces, their un-insightful introductions and un-energised essays on art which dare to show their faces in those very same gallery catalogues and brochures, are often unintelligible to the reader of English. In Malaysian newspapers (especially) and Malaysian magazines, poorly informed writers shame the whole concept of art writing. Hastily written paragraphs flaunt ill-informed drivel and worse, are poorly constructed in the English language. Is it, therefore, not time that art historical and art critical writing was taught on English Writing courses, and compulsory (in which ever language) on art history/criticism courses in Malaysia, to overcome what has become the misnomer of art writing here.

To their credit, some Malaysian writers are very good at turning a sentence but, sadly, the best do not venture into the writing about art, but confine themselves to politics and social commentary. Moreover, there many more ‘writers’ who are barely adequate in the English language but muddle through because their editors are worse. Those that are good have scant knowledge about art, while those that are bad have no knowledge about art or writing. It is not hard to tell that much of the Malaysian art writing we see in public is Google translated from Malay or Chinese. The result is the worse kind of Manglish, or Chinglish, pretending to be English. But, because editors have little experience and/or knowledge of the English language, let alone Art History, these dire diatribes pass muster in which ever media is proud to publish them.

Google translations are easily spotted by their convoluted content; overly florid use of language and bizarre, often antiquated, English idioms are thrown in for good measure. This occurs because those who may be knowledgeable about Malaysia art have poor English language skills, and are unable to write coherently in the language. This is a pity, as it limits their audience to either Chinese reading or Malay reading peoples, and closes those article/essays off to an International (English reading) audience. Surely, if translations are necessary, it would be better to hand the original script over to a human translator who has the capability of an accurate translation, from whichever language, rather than rely on mechanical translators which have no ‘feel’ for the languages they are translating into. I once stood in an art gallery, on an island off the coast of peninsula Malaysia turning an exhibition catalogue upside down, round and round because the ‘English’ was, to me, undecipherable. 

Sadly, Malaysian art articles e.t.c. are frequently written by ‘writers’, and especially writers in newspapers, who have only a passing knowledge of art, while many do not even have that, but simply ‘wing it’. Few of that ilk of art writers have attended art school, even fewer art schools outside of Malaysia. Practically none of the current newspaper or magazine art writers have attended courses on art history, art theory or art writing, especially at Post-Graduate level. It is because of this that writers confuse multi-coloured with ‘psychedelic’, Expressionism with Impressionism, Futuristic with Futurism and seem to have very little knowledge of anything beyond those. Dada, Surrealism, and even Cubism, are scantly mentioned except where it overlaps with the writer’s recognition of Picasso, and contemporary art seems to elude them altogether. Malaysian gallery owners are equally as guilty, as many have no academic background in art but only a desire to profit from it, and so are unable to recognise good, bad or ugly art writing.

It has become a modern truism that Malaysian articles must praise (fan) their subjects, rather than be objective and critique. Too much Malaysian art writing is simply ‘advertorial’ (advert dressed up as editorial), where the writer (or newspaper/magazine) is paid to praise an artist, his/her work or an exhibition. No critique is involved. It is not objective, but subjective in the worse possible way, and maybe this is due to the writer’s lack of art education or unfair expectations of the art world.

It is only through critique, the art of analysis and assessment, that artists may move forward with their work, Constant praise only holds back an artist’s momentum, inhibits their growth as an artist. It is therefore the purpose of an art writer to decipher the work of art, to bring his/her experience and knowledge to bear on the unravelling of the mysteries inherent within each artwork, and report their findings. It is the opposite of the fawning and fanning which currently occurs. Critiquing is a valued but hefty task, requiring specific skills and not just a passing fancy for the art object. Critics must be knowledgeable, learned, impartial, careful but nevertheless judgemental in a way which feeds back to artists where aspects of their work need attention. 

Malaysia needs art courses which will make distinctions about things, ask fundamental questions about art, life, philosophy. Students need grounding in the philosophy of art as well as art history and art criticism. Proposed studies would include wide-ranging knowledge of the arts, giving students an opportunity to sample many different areas of art, writing and thesis preparation as well as a chance to study visual imagery in its myriad forms from the graphic art of design, sequential art, art of indigenous peoples as well as art and art histories of the East and the West. The study of art and the practice of writing should be studied side by side, to produce well rounded art critics for all our futures.

FYO the writer has a post graduate degree in art history & theory, and a second in gallery studies (the study of collections, galleries and museums), as well as an honours degree in philosophy and two diplomas in art and design, and graphic design. All gained in the UK.

Ikan Mati 1

Ikan Mati 1 2008

For nearly seven years I was living in rural Malaysia, two hours away from the capital Kuala Lumpur, in a land of lakes - remnants of Tin Mining. During this time I was concerned with capturing the essence of the area in which I was living, the environment and the people.

While much of my work was concerned with the abundance of flowers all year long, and the close proximity of what remains of the jungle, indigenous tribes people, I had become fascinated with trying to depict both the eating habits, and also the leisure activities of many of the local people - Malays and Chinese especially, as there were few Indians close by. The chief leisure activity seemed to be fishing - in the Mining Pool lakes opposite my bungalow house.

Men, and it was mostly men, would arrive at the series of lakes opposite my house early morning, or early evening. It was too hot amidst the sand, to fish during the punishing heat of the day. They would mostly fish for Talipia, which occurred mostly in black, though there were some red ones too. Flowerhorn fish survived there too, though to catch one was a rarity. One enterprising Chinese man would come with a large net, cast it out, then wait and wade into the lake to pull the struggling fish to himself. Another hoisted a flat bottomed boat into the lake and net cast from that.

Ikan means fish in Malay, and Mati death. The image is literally Dead Fish. I had visited the morning market in the nearest town (Kampar) many times, and was intrigued by the different types of dried fish available. Over time I bought various types of dried fish, photographed them and set about making those images my own to represent the people and place in which I was living, using Photoshop layers. Each image would have multiple layers of photographs and therefore a composite.

Ikan Mati 1, is one of three fish images created between 2005 and 2012.

Digital Batik

I have been  told that I don't tell the world about the 'artist side of myself, enough.

Since very young I have been creating (pre-school if my mother can be believed). I graduated to oil paints, then to acrylics and found myself airbrushing in the 1980s. I was interested in manuscript painting and Indian miniatures, and after a trip to Rajasthan and buying some brushes from miniature painters I started painting in gouache. During the late 1990s and early 2000s I painted quite large gouache paintings, with lots of detail, but after my first experiments with Adobe Photoshop 4, and moving to Malaysia, I switched entirely to digital art.

From time to time I will post some of my digital art here, in preparation for a forthcoming exhibition of my work in Cheras, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

Digital Batik (1) 2007

Throughout my stay in Malaysia I have been fascinated with the country. I lived in rural Malaysia for almost 7 years, and while there made a great many digital creations from the countryside I saw around me. With Digital Batik, I wanted to recreate the idea of batik, something synonymous with and representing Malaysian design. Using a variety of digital software, and photographs I took from my surroundings I created this image, which is one in a series. Printed, this series is about 20 inches tall, though originally they were not made to be printed but to be shown on digital screens.

Be Nice People, Be Nice to People (a critique of artists)

I often have wondered why 'serious' artists, as opposed to frivolous perhaps, are so pretentious. Is there something about the act, or thought processes involved in making serious contemporary art that makes the makers into such pretentious people.

The higher up the slippery contemporary gallery ladder, and the greater the bucks their 'works' achieve, the more arrogant, self important and ego stricken these Contemporary Artists seem to become. Perhaps the artists feel that they need to compete with their art works, to be as pretentious as them, outstrip them in their clamour for oddity and fame, or is that infamy. It is all raw ego.

The idea of Con Art, that is Contemporary Art as a confidence trick, is being muted about, and with each pretension gains more credence. Contemporary Art continues to divorce itself from the ordinary man, heaping up poorly understood philosophies and dabbling with psychologies and politics. Yes, DADA and Surrealism were there first. In those times there was shock value to DADA's collages, and Surrealism's juxtapositions, but no longer. Even the resurrected DADA calling itself Pop Art was but a pale copy of the original. We yawn at tanks with sharks or half cows, at piles of bricks being hailed as Art. The more academic the artwork the less it resonates with the less academic minds of the rest of us. Now Contemporary Art is rapidly becoming Con Art, and it's makers Con Men.

I had been at a gallery in Kuala Lumpur, assisting with some words for an interesting and friendly artist. In came a self important 'artist', a supposedly 'international' artist who evidently felt the glare of the grey gallery walls was too strong, as he kept his John Lennon/Yoko Ono sunglasses on as he brushed past me, leaving me holding out my business card to thin air. I was polite and proffered it a second time. He condescended to accept it. I held my peace, as Mr Ego is a client of the gallery's owner.

It was the second time, within minutes, that I had been reminded of the audacities of the art world. The first, was having seen another auction/gallery owner who is well known for his aggressive interactions with individuals he considers inferiors, as opposed to the fawning he undertakes with those with money and power. It was a healthy reminder that not all in the world of arts are nice people, or indeed people any honest artist/writer would want to be associated with, and it was not my first time to be looked down upon by the rich and famous.

There was that time in Liverpool, upon meeting one of my favourite Liverpool poets, who was more interested in himself and the girl I was with, than listening to me, his fan. Another time was in London, at a comic convention. I accidentally bumped into a TV personality and his friend - a well known DJ. They assumed I wanted autographs, I didn't. I wanted to rifle through the comic book boxes they were standing in front of. They left disappointed. I got the comics I wanted.

Fame, or imagined fame, does seem to go to some peoples' heads. They forget who put them where they are, and just how quickly all that fame and fortune can disappear. There are seasons to art, to personalities, to DJs and yes even poets. There is the old adage, be careful who you tread upon on the way up, because they will still be there, waiting, when you are in your way down. Be nice people, and be nice to people. I have not named names, deliberately, but they know who they are.