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Tu7oh
Hin Bus Depot
Curated by Ivan Gabriel and the artists
7-31 July 2022
Review by Miriam Devaprasana
Across the worn-out walls of Hin Bus Depot is an art exhibition visualising notes on the self and our place in society, politics, and the natural world. Curated by Ivan Gabriel and a team of seven Penang-based artists, TU7OH stands as a collection of seven ‘mini-solo’ exhibitions within one exhibition space. However, with similar themes to thread, TU7OH presents itself as its own ecosystem: a tethering of different voices and perspectives through various mediums and techniques to explore the overarching themes of life, death, and our negotiations with the spaces in between.
On one side of the entrance sits ‘SOMA’ by husband-and-wife creative duo White Bones. Inspired by Shakespeare’s soliloquy on the seven ages of man, ‘SOMA’ is a body of abstract art which experiments with angles, lighting, shapes, and colours through cutouts of vinyl decals. Whilst I found it difficult to trace the poem within the series, I appreciated how the artworks took me on a journey of self-reflection. Divided into two, works on the left explore geometric rigidity, fixed lines, and familiar curves. Close attention, however, shows instances of jagged cuttings at overlapping boundaries. In contrast, works on the right expand with lesser symmetry and irregular contours. A mirror in the middle calls for a pause, a moment of reflection. By no means linear, ‘SOMA’ invites viewers to revisit their personal trajectories and rediscover that moment of clarity which leads to change.
On the other side of the entrance sits ‘Tribulation’ by ERYN. Using traditional Chinese paper cutting and drawings with a dip pen, ‘Tribulation’ presents a world beyond what our eyes can see. On display are tiny masked winged creatures and their interactions and movements within the hidden corners of leaves, trees, branches, the papery walls of nests, and a spun web. It is fantastical, mysterious, and arouses curiosity – Are they insects? Are they faeries? Do they exist in our world? Is there a secret spyglass I could buy to witness these creatures in their natural habitat? Yet even in the imagination and the unknown, the titles of the works suggest brokenness, chaos, and disorder – tribulations so heavy and weighted and so delicately framed. In many ways, it is a mirror to the realities which plague our world – intrusion, displacement, division, and lack of agency, among others. Some come out of it; others don’t. As viewers take a step back from ‘Tribulation’, they might find the bigger question of what we, as observers, are willing to do about it.
A similar conclusion is also found in ‘MULAseMULA’ by political artist Maizul Affendy. Presented within the structure of painted wooden panels, Maizul layers scenes, characters, and texts inspired by the traditional Malaysian animal fables of Sang Kancil and the late P. Ramlee’s 1961 film Ali Baba Bujang Lapuk. There is satire, comedy, and theatre, all intertwined as a commentary on the murky waters of Malaysian politics. I was particularly drawn to Panel 1, which depicts a (presumably) female character drawing cross (X) marks on doors. The scene is inspired by Marjina – the heroine in the film whose actions prevent a robbery (twice) and who ends up saving the day. But Maizul weaves in this scene with the threads of our political narrative and highlights the authority of the cross we mark on a ballot paper. This bears much significance as we remember the journey to GE14 and the circumstances that have unfolded since. I also appreciated the use of phrases and dialogue as characters make declarations and/or interact, providing context in and throughout the works. Maizul’s weaving of language and art not only provokes but guides us to question and interrogate Malaysia’s political scene and our place and authority as the rakyat. But as the stinging words “rakyat tetap kalah” may cause disillusionment and despondence, they do not necessarily have to be the truth we embrace.
To take things further is Mandy Maung’s ‘The 7 Deadly Sins’. Here is an explosion of media, colour, and, for the most part, recognisable subject matter which exposes the behaviours, fixations, and indulgences of society. The most striking piece is the portrait of Malaysia’s former prime minister halo-ed with newspaper clippings of reports on the 1MDB scandal. Presumably depicting Greed, he has one finger on his lips; he seeks to buy our silence with RM50 notes. Viewers become the audience who watch from far and wide (armed with chocolate and popcorn) as the corrupt premier makes his way back to leadership through deceit, lies, and marred innocence. In another of the works, using Michelangelo’s David as a subject matter might raise eyebrows. Still, Maung’s pieces bridge the worlds of pop art and fine art to engage with the notions of morality, judgement, and our obsessions, through vibrant and dynamic representations of what we are taught sin looks like through cultural and religious interpretations.
Creating a boundary in the middle of the space is an assemblage of wooden sculptures by bibichun, inspired by childhood and cultural symbol Ultraseven. Simplistic and intentionally imperfect, the recreations of the fictional superhero defy the ideal – some are stout, big-headed, long, hunchbacked, and disproportionate. But they are all clad in the same outfit, wear evil grins and stand on pedestals. Between their postures and gestures, one wonders who they are and what they represent. Are they heroes or villains? Defenders or adversaries? Protectors or oppressors? Yet because of their position within the exhibition space (these figures are also placed facing Aboud Fares’ works on the wall opposite), I am inclined to view them as representations of former Malaysian prime ministers, who, in one way or another, are responsible for the darkness which looms above our current political trials. Admittedly, this might be a bit of a stretch, but what juxtaposes and provides context to this are the nameless bodies of sculpture trapped in hanging contours by Aboud Fares that overshadow the surroundings.
In ‘Bagged’, Fares skilfully manipulates resin and fibreglass to exploit the tensions, burden, and fluidity of layers and material which hold and secure the weight of wooden sculptures within. The wooden sculptures are in the form of unnamed and unknown faces, blinded by an added layering of material across their eyes. There is a lot to take in with this series as it encapsulates the many emotions and uncertainties which have been a part of our discourse over the past two years. In the presence of such craftsmanship, I am reminded of death, loss, sorrow, and grief for the countless number of people we have mourned. I am made aware of being stifled and trapped, of struggles, afflictions, and suffocation. Then, I am reminded of the weight of surviving, and being in the now – a constant negotiation of the past and the present as the future opens up with another day. In many ways, ‘Bagged’ takes us on a journey of what it means to be alive when so many linger in the aftermath of death, suffering, and loss.
As if to remind us of the fragility of life, there is Esther Geh’s series of watercolour paintings. On display are examples of well-known, often overlooked plants found in everyday surroundings: elements so common that they rarely warrant closer attention and appreciation. Geh places the spotlight on them, and, by manipulating a limited palette of seven colours, sheds light on the movements and stages of life in the natural world. It is the artist’s careful considerations and acute attention to detail which enable us to witness how each species forms and changes over time. It is a curious thing to realise that while these plants are kept at the peripheries of our sight and understanding, they not only blossom with a life of their own, but they also exist as part of an ecosystem. They give life, and they take life; when they wither and cease to be, all that is left is given back to the earth, and their life lives on in and through other parts of the natural world. In this way, Geh bridges the world of art and education by prompting us to engage and ponder the things that surround us, but which, for one reason or another, we fail to recognise or embrace.
Reflecting on the works, it is refreshing to see how the artists engaged and negotiated their interpretations of the number seven. Some are glaringly visible; others are stored in subtle details. Regardless, they explore and expose the negotiations of ourselves in light of our society, politics, and the natural world. It was also exciting to understand how artists have pushed their personal boundaries and, in some cases, returned to the essence of their artistry – an exploration of art as an extension of their authentic selves.
TU7OH also stands out for the way it was made accessible to people to engage with art. Having been a part of George Town Festival 2022, with free entry, and situated in one of Penang’s major creative hubs, art enthusiasts, festival goers and anyone else who walked by the space were able to experience the exhibition. In this way, TU7OH emerges as the most important art exhibition in Penang today for the lessons it provides in making contemporary art accessible to the masses. If ever people wondered who or what to see regarding the Penang art scene, this is a good starting point!
TU7OH binds together many important narratives, taking us on a journey of insight and awareness about life. It also sets a mark for what art can and should be, and I look forward to seeing how the artists continue to explore and experience this in their future solo exhibitions.
Tu7oh will travel to Temu House in Petaling Jaya, Selangor, from 9 to 25 September. Open weekend 10am to 5pm, or weekdays by appointment.
Miriam Devaprasana is an observer and dabbler of creative expressions. She is currently pursuing a PhD in Urban Sociolinguistics and hopes that one day, her work will help form a new way of thinking ‘Malaysia’. Read her blog at mdev16.wordpress.com