The Process is the (art)work: Reflections for January/February
This is my first blog post for my Ekamatra residency. Previously, I've penned down my reflections on a personal Google document, but I've committed to putting up my reflections on a public platform, in the spirit of sharing and community, or whatever. Honestly, I've been putting off putting my reflections up on this site because it's honestly quite vulnerable. I'm actually a firm believer in not sharing the process when it comes to theatre-making… but when most of the residency is centered around process… the process is the product; therefore, this is the work. I've never been confident of my own thoughts and reflections as an artist — while I'm fully convinced of my own thoughts and they make sense to me, the fear is that they don't translate well to other people… the fear of sounding stupid. However, articulating my thoughts and processes is a vital skill for me to hone if I want to continue growing, as a person or an artist (which should be the same thing) and to contribute to our collective knowledge as Singaporean artists, theatre makers, or whatever identifiers we can come up with to categorize ourselves, including arts managers or "non-artists" in art spaces.
Actually, we're all doing the same thing: to make art, to inspire, bring joy, or create spaces for reflection in an otherwise monotonous and comfortable Singaporean life. I believe that every person is an artist… pretty emotional and maybe idealistic… but this is a key driving belief for me as an educator, more so than as an artist. As an educator for learners as young as three years old up to adults, I believe that we all possess a limitless amount of creativity — not in an art sense, but by the sheer fact that our lived experiences hold a deep pit of "material" waiting to be converted into creative energy. For most "non-artists," we resort to yapping, which is the most pure form of oral storytelling, which I assume precedes any form of expression. This may be the reason why I've been drawn towards verbatim/documentary theatre since I was introduced to it almost a decade ago, and why I've chosen to design my residency around the process of verbatim and documentary theatre.
At the point of ruminating on what my residency may look like 4 months ago, Shaza (Artistic Director of Teater Ekamatra) and I both agree that, more often than not, the products of verbatim/documentary theatre are kinda boring for the average audience member… but we also both agree that the process provides a unique opportunity to decentralize the artist and platform the "non-artist." So I dove into this residency hoping to figure out how I can "make verbatim theatre interesting," which I think was quite a loose direction to embark on, but it has since shaped up to focus more on the processes of engaging with "non-artists" and different ways we can craft a meaningful process for them, without being fixated on the end product but staying present with them throughout the creation process. "The process is the work," one of my mentors, Jamie Lewis, keeps echoing to me in our first few meetings… and it stuck, either because I actually believe it or she said it enough times to convince me.
How's It Been So Far
It has since been 3 months, and I've been having sporadic interviews with male madrasah graduates, and a barber/musician, making up the two "projects" of this residency, the former being focused on a specific community, and the latter centered around a single person, almost biographical. It hasn't been easy because I quickly realized that when building connections and rapport, you have to take it slow… because meaningful relationships take time, but also logistically, it takes time to find time.
With the male madrasah graduates, it's been pretty straightforward interviews. Nothing much to write about just yet, but I have a feeling I'm only scratching the surface. I look forward to organizing a focus group with them so that I can "disappear" as an interviewer and let them talk about their lived experiences with each other. This is a suggestion by Roslyn Oades, another one of my mentors, whose practice centers around verbatim theatre. She talks of spending at least 2 years with people during the interview process and looking for opportunities where the interviewees or "narrators" (a preferred designation that better describes their involvement in the process as tellers of their own stories) overpower the interviewer in numbers, where the conversations start building on each other leading to more intriguing and lively discussions.
With our barber/musician, Kamal (a pseudonym as he has chosen to remain anonymous), I've spent a fair bit of time getting to know him in various spaces. I've had conversations with him at his barbershop, at an old mosque deep in the north (that would be a pain to get to without personal transportation), at a beach club and at a Chinese New Year event for the People's Association. We were supposed to meet at a secret location too, his secret third life he says, but it got cancelled and we have yet to reschedule… perhaps he changed his mind on letting me in on this third life. Our conversations have been intriguing, usually centering around his personal philosophies and his life story, which was expected… but it has since become repetitive. When I attempt to probe deeper and encourage him to talk about his life challenges and such, he reveals that that is his secret with God, and not for him to share. While I feel like I'm building a genuine connection with him with every encounter I have with him, it feels as though I've hit a cap on what he wants to share with me. Perhaps it has to do with my ability as an interviewer, perhaps what's holding us back is our relatability to each other, or perhaps he has decided that he only wants to share so much. However, he has an unwavering interest to include me in his life to help me out with "my project," which I'm so grateful for. The next step though, is to transition "my project" into "our project," finding a process where his level of agency in creating this work is more pronounced. Not sure how to do this yet, but this was the point of exploration for my first playdate, detailed in the next blog post.
As someone who likes to have control over my creative projects, I’ve ironically designed a residency that is forcing me to let go of control and let the project and the people I seek to engage lead me instead. All I have to do and can do is set up the processes to ensure a meaningful journey for everyone involved and hold myself accountable to keen observations and in depth reflection. I’m anxious, but I suspect it’s coming from a place of wanting to have something “impressive” to show at the end of all of this… I have to remind myself to stay present, and that it’s not about an end product… the process is the (art)work.
