Sifa 2023: The art of navel-gazing

WHAT exactly is The School, a very strange new work from the Singapore International Festival of Arts (Sifa), that runs till Jun 4? The participatory theatre production requires the audience to put on provided uniforms, attend classes with fellow audience members, and discuss ideas of how to create a new school system from scratch. 

The moderators, in the guise of school prefects, ask: “What rules should we create? What values should we live by?” Along the way, the audiences are told to pick cards randomly from a large selection, look at the image shown on the card (which could be anything from a shaman to a public protest) and “locate” themselves in the picture. “Where are you in the picture?” the prefects ask. “What do you need right now?” 

The entire exercise, which lasts for three-and-a-half hours, is not unlike other participatory theatre performances in Singapore, especially the ones created by Drama Box. But this particular work is created by long-time arts practitioners Li Xie, Jean Ng and Joavien Ng (all of whom had one time or another been involved with Drama Box) and has a much looser and unstructured feel to it. 

Often one does not know where the discussion is heading, as the prefects appear as confused and clueless as most of the audience members. Discussions on how to create a new school system never reach any kind of satisfying conclusion. At times, certain audience members profess impatience. Other times, an audience member or two experience a eureka moment about their personal lives – though it may or may not have anything to do with the discussion at hand.

When at last the exercise comes to an end, everyone is asked to find a quiet space to be alone and mull in silence.

Sceptics might be tempted to think of it as a pointless exercise in pretending we can effect change. But if you choose to be optimistic, you might engage in the discourse in the hope that you emerge with a better understanding of how schools shape thoughts and behaviours. You can also allow the strangely therapeutic exercise of expressing what you “need right now” to lead you into a deeper contemplation of where you are in your life. 

Much like real-life school experiences, it is what you make of it. 

Mining personal histories

Navel-gazing seemed to be the order of the day for the second week of the festival: Me, You, Then, Now is a work by Chinese-American choreographer and dancer Muna Tseng that looks back at her four-decade career in New York. On stage, Tseng narrates the story of how she became a dancer after being partly inspired by her brother, pioneering photographer Tseng Kwong Chi, who was a close collaborator of graffiti artist Keith Haring – and with whom dancer Tseng also collaborated with. 

Her life and relationships with her family and friends become grist for the mill, with Tseng frequently performing excerpts of her oeuvre accompanied by projections of old family photos and short videos of the actual performances from years ago. Although this was a one-night-only performance, with a less-than-half-full house at Victoria Theatre, Tseng delivered a heartfelt performance that sent some audience members home in tears.

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Meanwhile, Jaha Koo from South Korea mines the traumas of his life and that of his countrymen to create two separate works, Lolling & Rolling and Cuckoo. The first deals with Koreans’ obsession with mastering American English as a form of status symbol – to the point that many go for painful tongue surgeries in order to pronounce “r” the American way. (There is no “r” sound in the Korean language, making it hard for them to verbalise it.) 

The second deals with the Asian financial crisis of 1997 which saw South Korea borrowing as much as US$55 billion from the International Monetary Fund at high interest rates. The bailout was engineered by an American team led by Alan Greenspan who were hailed as heroes. But it has a devastating impact on average Korean families as incomes dropped, unemployment rose and suicide rates rocketed. 

In both works, Koo makes a case against Western political, social and economic imperialism. He weaves original music, archival materials, personal anecdotes and even rice cookers to create a sober but angry commentary on the corrosive effects of American interference.

Transposing trauma

Of all the works in the festival so far, none was more difficult to watch than BLKDOG by British hip-hop choreographer Botis Seva. Seven dancers in hoodies play children and teenagers facing the threat of violence on the streets. When the scene shifts, they’re at home playing out disturbing scenes of domestic abuse at the hands of parents and relatives.

Violence is an inescapable condition for some children. Many of them carry these scars for life, which further impedes them from having healthy relationships as grown-ups. The work offers no catharsis, no resolution. It ends on a cynical note that suggests the cycle of violence continues. 

Torben Lars Sylvent’s dark, throbbing music coupled with Tom Visser’s foggy lighting conjure a world so devoid of hope and cheer, it would take a miracle to lift these children from their sufferings. BLKDOG is an important work, but it is so hard to love.

Sifa 2023 runs till Jun 4. Visit sifa.sg for details.