I attended another of Sean Cham's works during the weekend. Partly because I recognised his name from First Storeys, but also because of the stroke of luck that it was being commissioned - and thus, free of charge - by National University of Singapore's Centre for the Arts.
The Last Gap, which Cham presents as a lecture-performance, re-examines the ridge where the Battle of Pasir Panjang in 1942 took place. It was one of the battles which marked the start of the Japanese Occupation in Singapore.
Cham does a commendable job in two aspects. First, as in First Storeys, his careful selection of where the work is situated and presented. In this case, he aptly chooses the site where the Battle of Pasir Panjang took place, a little-known historic fact about the National University of Singapore (NUS)' current Kent Ridge campus.
Secondly, the extent of Cham's research is plain to see. He curates a variety of information from both Singapore and Malaysia. (For it is sometimes forgotten that the Japanese Occupation in World War 2 affected then-Malaya as a whole.) The material thus take on a variety of mediums; Cham presents poems, paintings and films re-imagining the Battle of Pasir Panjang before he segues into how Singapore and Malaysia have decided to curate the war. This is supplemented by a field trip to Kent Ridge Park where we see an official plaque erected by the state's National Heritage Board and then, in a somewhat forgotten Looking Post, locked away in a restricted part of the campus.
At the untouched site, overgrown by surrounding vegetation, we are free to roam the space on our own. But also, as we exit the site, Cham implores us to delete the images we have inevitably taken as we explored the ruins. This, in hopes, he explains, to ward off unnecessary attention to it. He parallels the sanctity and beauty of the untouched space to Cambodia's Angkor Wat. This I understand, especially given the current paradoxical culture where social media vitality thrives but wrecks.
While this disclaimer proves to be a form of social commentary about how our state and the people seemingly over-manicures - and perhaps, bastardises - our history and heritage, I cannot help but feel betrayed when I find that Cham has taken photos of this space and even published it in Yesteryears. Why does Cham grant himself the authority of knowing how best to preserve the space? And in extension, assumes that his audiences are incapable of doing so? Or is he sharing his regret after carelessly exposing it in Yesteryears? But if so, why does he propagate it again as publicity for The Last Gap?
While the work as a whole reinvigorates the conversation about the history that Singaporeans have learned as fact and implores the audience members to relook at the surroundings we take for granted, the process could afford to do better upon closer inspection.
The participatory elements are a hit and miss. The work is framed as a syllables in school. We first take an examination which leads us into the topic by having us draw upon our impressions or what we remember of: the SARS Outbreak in 2003; the passing of Lee Kuan Yew in 2015; and then World War 2. Although this drops digestible crumbs that warms us up for the recollection exercise of World War 2, it does little to add on to the work's main thrust.
We go through a "studio session" where we collectively illustrate trivia which we know and remember from World War 2. We revisit the Whiteboard mural again at the end. Curiously though, instead of doing so collectively as we did initially, we are broken up into 6 groups with paper each to draw updates. This yields little as The Last Gap comes off more as a commentary and appreciation of curatorial efforts rather than a lecture disputing facts. 3 of the 6 works at my session reproduced the initial collective montage within a speech bubble to signify the importance of talking about World War 2. A group did not even finish their discussion when the session was brought to a close by a footage of a voice-altered Cham singing a patriotic song monotonously.
One wonders which elements of this session was performative. Was it when we assumed the role of students? But we did not have any effect on the piece, was it just to add an aesthetic frame to our participation? Or was it to acknowledge the fact that he held on to a script throughout? But aren't these elements also present in the dynamic of a tour guide and his group or a school-sanctioned learning journey? Is every tour around Singapore island then considered a work of art? Is how we brand and label our cultural products important?
Cham proves to be a skilful visual artist, creating and presenting works that are cleverly situated. His interrogative spirit shines through in the commentary he strives to make. But I hope that Cham realises his growing penchant for participatory pieces requires him to wield the tricky power dynamics and be responsible for making sense of the participation he elicits from his audiences during the process. Cham's work, thus, must do better in bridging the last gap to develop depth behind his glossy aesthetic.