First, a bit of housekeeping. There is something new on this blog (not this post), can you see it? Hint: Look right for a blue box. Special thanks to HSH for the heads-up, I like it.
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“Cadangan-cadangan untuk Negaraku” (Suggestions for My Country) was created by Liew Kung Yu, and exhibited at Petronas Gallery. I was fortunately enough to catch the exhibition while it lasted (you won’t find it there anymore).
It consists of four huge photo montages, titled “Konkrit Jungle”, “Motropolis Warisan”, “Pantai Gelora Cahaya”, and “Bandar Sri Tiang Kolom”.
Liew’s work is inspired by statues and monuments throughout Malaysia, and he photographed and assembled them into a vision of what the future of Malaysia could be, with witty humour.
Malaysia had been a nation with little historical narratives (Milner, 2005) holding it together. Hence, these narratives had to be created in the name of national unity; a common identity and history which becomes the glue of nations, and hence the state (which created the narrative). Throughout the early years of independence, the narrative was that of British colonialism and a “bargain” which enabled Malayans, and later Malaysians, to be independent, plural and in peace.
During Mahathir’s rule, a new ingredient has been added to the narrative: prestige projects. This is particularly true in the wake of the 1987/88 Operasi Lallang and judicial crisis, when anti-government dissent was high and racial relations were tense. These megaprojects - launched under the guise of modernisation are - ambitious feats of engineering aimed at boosting national pride. Before long, we have the tallest towers, longest bridges, and even our own “national” car. All these were widely publicised as national achievements. Meanwhile, much smaller monuments and homage to modernisation were springing up elsewhere.
Cadangan-cadangan Untuk Negaraku pokes fun at this. Its vision of Malaysia’s future is full of these monuments and other symbols of national pride. Aside from people, grass, and the occasional trees, the whole landscape is artificial. It was as if national progress is measured by the tonne: tonnes of concrete and steel. Even the animals and the waves of the ocean were just concrete and paint. Swarms of tourists armed with cameras, flock around landmarks throughout each montage, as if it is indeed something to be proud of and worth visiting. Kung Yu’s vision of future Malaysia is essentially an exaggeration of this phenomenon of monument-building being equated with nation-building.
While looking at these artworks, it is difficult not to feel that the landscape was somewhat hollow, once the initial awe and wonder of the work’s size and colour subsides. Perhaps the same can be said of the prestige projects itself. Once our neighbours have built taller building and longer bridges, will Malaysia still exist as a nation with common ideals?
It should also be noted that Kung Yu’s previous works are very conscious of where it is displayed (Rajendran, n.d.). Hence, it is very ironic that his exhibition took place within one of these prestige projects, and funded with public money. Given the authoritarian nature of officialdom, either the curator wasn’t very careful, or perhaps there is official recognition and acceptance of this phenomenon.
Reference:
Milner, A. (2005). Historians Writing Nations: Malaysian Contests. In W. Gungwu (Ed.), National-building: Five Southeast Asian Histories (pp. 117-161). Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.
Rajendran, C. (n.d.) Seriously, Simply Speaking: Cakap-cakap with Liew Kung Yu.
