Gua Khee getting comfortable for our interview. Photo: Gwen Pew

“When was the last time you had a conversation with someone?” one of the cast-facilitators asked. We were at the first trial run of HOT POT TALK: Theatre & the Arts, the latest work by independent theatre practitioner Gua Khee Chong. Some of us remembered our last conversation vividly. Others hesitated.

The cast-facilitators asked a few more questions, and with the ‘hot pot’ more warmed up, we chose our own ‘soup bases’ to form smaller groups to have further conversations.

That is essentially the point of HOT POT TALK. Framed as a theatrical journey into conversation, it’s an experiment for people from different worlds to encounter each other and talk – in this case – about issues in the arts. Supported by Centre 42’s Basement Workshop programme, the event is open to the public over three weekends in September. We chat with Gua Khee to find out more about the piece.

How did the idea for HOT POT TALK come about?
I’ve always been interested in Theatre of the Oppressed, Forum Theatre, and pieces in which the conventional relationship between audience and performers is broken or challenged. As a result, last year I did a piece at The Substation, which can actually be seen as an earlier prototype of the form we are using in HOT POT TALK. That piece was called An Un-Tea Party, which is a reference to Alice in Wonderland and the “un-birthday” party. It was intended as an interrogation/exploration of The Substation’s tagline, “a home for the arts”. We had three “auntie” facilitators – myself, a dance artist, and a filmmaker – and interested audience could enter the room at set timings to have conversations with us. However, it was quite small scale and simple, so I was interested in exploring how that format could be translated into something that is more theatrical.

At the same time, I have been exploring the idea of stories and conversations. In particular, I was having a lot of conversations with my parents last year, as I was transitioning from a full-time position in a theatre company to being a freelance practitioner. While I was working at Drama Box, it was easier for my parents to understand what I was doing. To them it’s like, “oh, you’re working in a theatre company, okay can.” And financial security was assured, so that helped. But when I was transitioning into becoming a freelancer, a lot of questions started coming up. Like, “so what will you be doing?” or “what do you mean by ‘making’ theatre?” I didn’t think this was unique to my situation, so I started asking other practitioners about their stories, at which point I realised the amount of frustration around such conversations, as well as the subsequent avoidance of having such conversations. This was the original impulse for HOT POT TALK – to bridge theatre and society, and to have this playful theatrical space in which practitioners and other people can have such conversations in which they explore commonalities and stories of ‘why’, like why we do what we do.

What’s the story behind the hot pot metaphor?
I actually started with a soup metaphor for the process, to illustrate how I saw the devising process with the team. During the initial rehearsals, I also used the metaphor to generate further thoughts and concerns about the process of the piece as well as the piece itself, so the team came up with questions like “what ingredients do we definitely want to add to the soup?” and “what do we do if someone tries to add in an unwanted ingredient?” But we felt that it wasn’t the correct metaphor for the show itself.

Eventually, we found our way to the idea of a hot pot, which we thought best illustrated our desire for the audience to be part of the ‘cooking’ process – they are not just consuming something we serve them, but ‘cooking’ and ‘eating’ together with us. Hot pot also has connotations of a celebration and festivity – it’s usually quite a special occasion to get that number of people together in the same room. And while everyone starts off with more or less the same soup base, it can taste very different by the end depending on the ingredients that are added into it.

Tell us about the devising process for this piece.
A key framing I use in my work is the idea of ‘propositions’. I see my works as propositions to the audience and to society, for them to respond to. And in the same way, I think about bringing activities and games into the devising process as my propositions to the team. With these propositions, the team then has something to respond to, disagree with, or even deconstruct, so then the devising process can become richer and more complex much quicker.

Another framing I use is Paolo Freire’s concept of action/reflection, so during the devising process, we usually start by doing something, then we’d talk about it, then we’d do something again. So there has been a lot of conversations.

The dynamics amongst the three cast facilitators is also very, very important. So I assigned them to take turns to lead warm ups, so that they can get a sense of how each other facilitates, and what their theatrical language is.

How did you assemble the team of facilitators?
For this piece, I felt that having a highly diverse team was really important, so that they can bring all their different perspectives to the devising process as well as to their facilitation in the piece. Another consideration was their facilitation and listening ability, as that is also crucial for the piece to work. So if you look at the cast-facilitators, you can see that they have quite different backgrounds and they also work in fairly different circles within the theatre industry. Their focus is slightly different as well – although all three identify as actors, Chang Ting Wei and Adib Kosnan are also educators. Adib further does writing and directing work, while Shaiful Risan also does production, technical work, as well as hosting/emcee work.

How important is the role of the facilitators in HOT POT TALK?
They play an incredibly important role! The cast-facilitators are there to ‘difficultate’ the conversations that are at the core of the show. This means while they need to facilitate a safe space to support the sharing of potentially sensitive stories, they also need to be alert and share research or stories to challenge the audience, so that conversations don’t become just an echo chamber of opinions. For instance, if a particular group consists of purely practitioners, then I think the cast-facilitator can frame the conversation as an opportunity to share about strategies or approaches towards certain common struggles in the industry, or to hear about different aspects of the industry. If it’s a mixed group of practitioners and their relatives or friends, which would be most ideal, then it’s about helping to emerge the commonalities so that audience have a better understanding of each other’s worlds.

But it’s also about how much the audience chooses to participate. In HOT POT TALK, we are trying to ensure a wider variety of ways that the audience can navigate the piece. It’s like how you have different condiments and ingredients in a hot pot – you can choose how you want to flavour the soup for everyone, or perhaps just for yourself.

Who do you hope will come for HOT POT TALK, and what do you hope to achieve with it?
I’m more than happy if the general public hears about this and wants to come, but I’m most interested in having practitioners come with the people whom they’re interested to have such conversations with, such as friends or family members. This preference is really to ensure a higher possibility of audience engaging with the issues even after the show. We are trying to actively encourage this through our ticketing as well, with plans for ‘friends and family’ package discounts.

We hope that HOT POT TALK can be a starting point for conversations, or a way to deepen existing conversations. If they talk about issues that were raised in the piece afterwards, or if they share their perceptions of the industry – regardless of whether or not they agree on the issue – then I think the piece would have achieved a key aim of the team.

Interview by Gwen Pew & Daniel Teo on 19 June 2017
Published on 14 July 2017

Find out more about HOT POT TALK: Theatre and the Arts here, and catch the show at Centre 42 on 9, 10, 16, 17, 23 & 24 September 2017.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #2.

The Singapore team for The Singapore ‘d’ Monologues, from left to right: Natalie Lim, Lim Lee Lee, Peter Sau, and Nur Shafiza Shafie, with Lee Lee’s guide dog, Nice, in the front. Photo: Gwen Pew

Over the last few months, local theatre practitioner Peter Sau and his team have been using Centre 42’s Meeting Room as a safe space to get to know individuals with lived experience of disability. So far, they have met and interviewed 20 people from the Deaf and disabled communities and will be meeting and interviewing at least 20 more.

This is the research phase for a project entitled The Singapore ‘d’ Monologues – the stories gathered from the interviews will ultimately inspire a series of fictionalised monologues. The piece is a collaboration between several artists in both Singapore and the UK. The lead collaborators are Peter, who has taken on the roles of associate director, researcher, and performer; Wales-based playwright Kaite O’Reilly, who has worked extensively with Deaf and disabled actors; and Wales-based director and Kaite’s long-time collaborator Phillip Zarrilli.

“This would be the first time stories from the ground belonging to those of the Deaf and disabled community will be heard, collected, and archived,” says Peter. “And from them, a theatrical narrative of spoken, visual, captioned, recorded languages and mother tongues would be weaved together and presented with diverse physical representations on stage.”

As Kaite puts it on her blog, she hopes that “the performance will open up a much-needed discourse of disability in quality, accessible disability-led work”. It is commissioned by Unlimited – a UK project that supports work by disabled artists – and its development is supported by Centre 42’s Basement Workshop programme.

Peter, Kaite and Phillip have known each other since the mid-2000s, when they were all involved with Singapore’s Intercultural Theatre Institute (ITI) in different capacities. They stayed in touch over the years, and the trio came up with the idea that would eventually become The Singapore ‘d’ Monologues when Peter attended a Summer Intensive programme led by Kaite and Phillip in Wales in 2015.

By that time, Peter had already had a prolific career in the Singapore theatre scene as an actor, director, and educator. He was the recipient of the Young Artist Award in 2011, and his name had already cropped up several times at The Straits Times’ Life! Theatre Awards. But he decided to take a break in 2014, and spent a year in the UK to reflect on his practice.

“Basically, I was rather bored with the work that I have been doing, and perhaps even with Singapore theatre,” he explains.

He found his new direction on a cold spring day in London, when he caught a production of The Solid Life of Sugar Water by Graeae, a theatre company that champions Deaf and disabled actors. The play, written by Jack Thorne (who’s also behind Harry Potter and the Cursed Child), is about a couple trying to work through their grief after a stillbirth. The wife is Deaf, and the husband has a stump on his arm.

“That performance haunted me for weeks,” Peter remembers. “It was so authentic and heartfelt, I cannot remember seeing anything like that before. I guess it was the performance form which was unseen in Singapore that woke me from my slumber of conventional theatre-making.”

Through Kaite, Peter became more involved with the world of disability arts in the UK. And through a National Arts Council officer, he was introduced to a blind Singaporean called Lim Lee Lee.

“By spending time with someone I don’t feel conveniently similar to, I realise I was again experiencing myself and my relationship to this society and environment called ‘home’. Everything I thought I knew turned against me,” says Peter. “Through Lee Lee, [I learnt] to tell temperature through my skin; to investigate tactile markers (those protruding black or silver strips on the floor); to understand how foolish the ATM machines are – especially the amazing touch screens I used to love.”

Having this new world opened up to him has made him even more determined to do The Singapore ‘d’ Monologues justice.

“When Unlimited Festival called for international proposals, I leapt at the opportunity and expressed my keen interest to Kaite and Phillip,” says Peter. “They said yes, and I knew that whether or not we got the commission, I’ll just have to make it work with the belief that good luck, good hearts, and good things are meant to be.”

Lee Lee ended up joining the project as a researcher and performer, and most of the people who Peter interviewed are her friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. And the team take great care to emphasise that they are doing this not for the community, but with the community. Because really, The Singapore ‘d’ Monologues is a story about all of us. It’s about what it means to be human.

“At this moment in Singapore, disability equals to charity. Our governance seems to call for judgement when dealing with groups or societies different from the mainstream. Negotiation is short-lived and difference in viewpoints are mostly glossed over without depth,” says Peter.

It is his hope that by actively connecting with those who seem different from us, we can all collectively find common ground. He recalls that one of the most important philosophies his former mentor, theatre doyen Kuo Pao Kun, imparted to him was that “all cultures share the same roots even though the appearances look different”.

“People with visible and/or hidden disability are also trees like you and me. We share the same roots embedded in the soil of humanity where we begin and end our mortal journey,” says Peter. “Since we are all connected deep down, I am driven to make theatre work which begins to remove all labels, stigmas, baggage and assumptions that come with disability, oppression and marginalisation, and to celebrate diversity and embrace differences.”

By Gwen Pew
Published on 14 July 2017

Update (24 July 2017): The following changes were made to reflect more internationally accepted terms – “individuals who are living with disability” was corrected to “individuals with lived experience of disability”; “physically and mentally impaired” was corrected to “people from the Deaf and disabled communities”; “deaf” was corrected to “Deaf”; and “visually impaired” was corrected to “blind”. Also, Kaite O’Reilly and Phillip Zarrilli’s nationality/location were corrected from “Irish” and Welsh” respectively to both being “Wales-based”.

Find out more about The Singapore ‘d’ Monologues here. A by-invite-only showing of the piece will take place at Centre 42 in September.

Peter is also looking for volunteers to help with any stage of the process. If you’re interested, he can be reached via email here.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #2.

A scene from Medea (1988), staged outdoors in Fort Canning Park. Photo: Asia-in-Theatre Research Centre. Reproduced with permission.

In 1987, a hairstylist created a theatre company. It was called Asia-in-Theatre Research Circus (ATRC), and the hairstylist in question was William Teo, often cited as one of the pioneers of contemporary Singapore English-Language Theatre. He was also the man that late theatre doyen Kuo Pao Kun called a “true artist”, because Teo was a seeker of a more ancient, sacred form of theatre. For 15 years, his company created and produced some of Singapore’s most unique and visually-arresting English-language theatrical productions which celebrated Asia’s performing arts heritage.

“For the Easteners, they sit on the treasure, they don’t see it, they don’t see the beauty of it. But for me, I went out and came back, I see the beauty,” Teo once said in an interview. Teo spent a great deal of his youth in Europe, during which he attended hairdressing school. During one of his visits to Paris, he encountered the work of Ariane Mnouchkine’s Theatre du Soleil, a theatre company whose productions were devised through extensive collaboration and improvisation. The company’s works were characteristically intercultural, combining Western and Eastern performing art forms. Theatre du Soleil was to become a blueprint for Teo’s own company.

Back in Singapore, two years after graduating from Practice Performing Arts School’s directing course, Teo set up ATRC. As its artistic director, he led the company on a mission to develop a new form of theatrical expression which combined traditional Eastern art forms with Western contemporary theatre. “We are not just merging the two. We are distilling the best of both,” Teo told the Straits Times. The company’s motto was “In Search of a Theatre”, grounding their search in Asia’s classic performing arts practices.

Intercultural theatre

ATRC’s early productions attempted to tell European stories with various combinations of traditional Asian art forms. A Business Times report described the company’s staging of the Greek myth Medea (1988) as having “Noh masks, Balinese musical instruments, South Indian Kathali dances, Sanskrit chanting, Chinese musical instruments, and of course, the Greek play”. The company also staged William Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Macbeth in 1993. Straits Times writer Joanne Lee noted that the production had a “multiple personality” – actors moved as if in a Chinese opera; some dressed in samurai costumes, others in Indian-inspired garb; performing to a backdrop of Korean drums and Chinese gongs. In its latter years, ATRC looked a little closer to home for stories, staging works such as The Dragon King (1994), a Yuan dynasty play by Li Hao Ku, and part of the ancient Indian epic, The Mahabharata, in 1995.

Thanks to Teo’s aesthetic direction, ATRC productions became known for their highly-stylised visuals. For the company’s production of Siddharta (1997), Straits Times reviewer Susan Tsang described what she saw onstage: “The players are on a framed platform at the back of the set, visible through a gauze screen […] Rivers are realised in a stylised form, with a sheet or trays of water that recreate the dreamlike landscape of Hesse’s India.” In an interview with Teo, Hannah Pandian enthused about Teo’s penchant for creating theatrical visual spectacles: “In productions such as The House of Bernada Alba (1987), Medea (1988) and Mother Courage (1989), he bathed his playing area in rich light and drowned his characters in silks and brocades. Down to the last oil-lamp and sandal-thong, everything was perfect…”

The Conference of the Birds (1991) was staged in an abandoned warehouse on Merbau Road, which is today the home of Singapore Repertory Theatre. Photo: Asia-in-Theatre Centre. Reproduced with permission.

Experimental theatre

ATRC experimented not only with intercultural theatre and aesthetics, but also with location. The company tended to shun conventional theatres, preferring to stage most productions in rather unusual spaces.

One of these was the outdoor environs of Fort Canning Park, where ATRC staged Medea in 1988. In the open space in front of the old fort gates, the company built a stage and lighting rigs, and tiered seating for several hundred people. Performers, audience and equipment were all exposed to the elements. “We had a very tight pact with [God] when we staged Medea. It rained every day after our first run but stopped at the beginning of our second series,” Teo said. Kuo, who reviewed the play for the Straits Times, was impressed with the production’s outdoor setting: “In the hands of these mad Circus people, the trees and grass of the hill, the mossy brick walls of the fort, the canopies and wooden rostrums and chairs, the gentle breeze between 6 and 11pm, somehow effected a relational transformation over those who had willingly subjected themselves to the evening’s magic.”

Another unconventional space which ATRC commandeered for several productions was a disused warehouse on Merbau Road, where the Singapore Repertory Theatre currently resides. After several failed attempts at trying to lease the space from the authorities, the company was finally given approval in 1991. On preparing the warehouse for performances, Teo said: “It was just a matter of getting the place cleaned of most of the cobwebs and pigeon droppings. I’ve kept the moss on the walls and some dust just for atmosphere.” ATRC staged The Conference of the Birds (1991) – a play based on a Persian poem – as well as The Tragedy of Macbeth (1993) in the Merbau Road warehouse. Pandian was enthralled by the location of Birds, remarking that the entire experience was “total theatre, of which there is simply not enough in Singapore.”

With ATRC’s use of unconventional performance spaces, T. Sasitharan emphatically declared that the company had “forcibly and finally shattered the stranglehold of the proscenium stage in Singapore English Theatre”.

Circus theatre

Part of the reason for calling itself “circus” was because ATRC wanted to be seen as “a group of players that form a self-contained community – of actors, sets builders and others – in much the same way as circus people”. Sans a small group of repeat collaborators, and, of course, Teo himself, cast and creative teams would change almost completely from production to production. ATRC also had no qualms accepting first-time performers in productions, allowing complete amateurs to train, work and perform alongside seasoned practitioners. Many of today’s theatre industry veterans had worked with ATRC early in their careers;  they include now-established practitioners such as Lok Meng Chue, Jean Ng, Nelson Chia, Mark Chan, Jeremiah Choy, and Nora Samosir, to name a few.

“Circus” also hinted at the nomadic nature of the company. In its early years, the company made their home in Teo’s living room. Like a wandering circus, exercises and rehearsals were conducted in various open spaces like parks, beaches and fields. In the ’90s, ATRC was hoping to make the Merbau Road warehouse their base of operations. However, in 1995, the company was headquartered at LASALLE-SIA College of the Arts. This was also when the company changed the “circus” in its name to “centre”, to reflect its new status as a registered non-profit organisation, and, perhaps, signal that it had found a home. In 1999, ATRC was allocated a space in Telok Ayer Performing Arts Centre by the National Arts Council’s Arts Housing Scheme, a studio theatre which it called “The Wooden Box”.

More importantly, ATRC’s eponymous circus referred to Teo’s wish to capture the “raw feeling of street theatre”. Like in Chinese street opera where the audience can easily see backstage, ATRC always kept the inner workings of theatre-making transparent. Before a show begins, audience members were allowed to wander around backstage areas, talk to cast and crew, and watch actors put on their makeup and costumes. After it ends, audience members were invited to tea and snacks with the company to talk about the performance. Kuo was especially moved by these behind-the-scenes experiences at Medea: “[ATRC] have initiated a new form of theatre-making and theatre-going, which has at once reminded us of our rich heritage and shown us a few sparks of a new emerging organic theatre relationship.”

The cast of The Tragedy of Macbeth (1993) only found out their roles three months before opening. Photo: Asia-in-Theatre Research Centre. Reproduced with permission.

Spiritual theatre

Kuo also noted that ATRC was foremost about exploring the spirituality of theatre: “William’s theatre was a descendant of the most ancient of theatres. A theatre where performers and audience alike bare their souls, turning the theatre place into an energy field which enables humans to communicate with the gods and each other”.

To that end, ATRC focused a great deal on training. Teo believed that “control and discipline of mind and body” was key to being an artist. Juraimy Abu Bakar, who played the character Bhisma in The Mahabharata Part 1: Game of Dice (1995), said: “We are constantly reminded by William that we are artistes not actors, we play not act and manifest our emotions on the sacred stage and not merely recite lines. It is difficult but we will keep trying.” For The Tragedy of Macbeth (1993), the performers went through two weeks of actor training with George Bigot – Teo’s friend and a lauded stage actor formerly with Theatre du Soleil – as well as several months of improvisation exercises in Fort Canning Park. They were only informed of their roles three months before they play opened. Jean Ng recalls the long hours of training: “Overwhelming exhaustion, strain and pain. But its [sic] all a very good beginning.”

Teo also believed that sacred theatre should be “poor theatre”. This belief flew in the face of developments in Singapore theatre in the ’90s, when the rest of the industry was moving towards commercial viability. Teo once proclaimed that he did not want ATRC to be a company that churned out plays regularly and receive large sponsorships. Bigot echoed Teo’s sentiments: “Theatre is like a temple – a Chinese temple – an Indian temple – a mosque. They don’t make money […] There is a difference between the art of theatre and showbusiness.” Pandian reported that ATRC would assume a $20,000 loss for each production, most of which would be absorbed by William’s hair salon business. ATRC would mount an average of one production annually, sometimes even letting up to a year go by in-between public performances. With its emphasis on exploration and research, creating a new work could take up to eight months or even longer.

The Mahabharata Part 1: Game of Dice (1995) was a result of a three-week cultural exchange workshop with faculty members of the Royal University of Fine Arts in Phnom Penh, part of ATRC’s Project Apsara. Photo: Asia-in-Theatre Research Centre. Reproduced with permission.

Global theatre

Teo once described ATRC as a “study group”. He and other company members would take overseas research trips to immerse themselves in another culture and its daily rituals, touring countries such as Thailand, India, Nepal and Israel, and staying with locals for extended periods of time to learn and participate in their daily rituals. After one such trip through several North Indian states, long-time ATRC collaborator Caroline Smith-Laing wrote: “We left India in awe of the high artistic standard and commitment of these brave people, determined against all odds to keep their traditional theatre alive.”

ATRC also conducted a series of cultural exchange workshops in various countries, all in the hopes of building a “global theatre”. These cross-cultural exchanges were often with universities – Project Apsara with Cambodia’s Royal University of Fine Arts, Project Kasturdesh with Bangladesh’s Jahangirnagar University, and Project Thepanoms with Thailand’s Thammasat University. ATRC worked with the region’s theatre practitioners and students, collectively creating productions such as The Mahabharata Part 1: Game of Dice (1995), Year Zero: The Historical Tragedy of Cambodia (1996), and the Gateless Gate (1999).

A one-man theatre

Teo unexpectedly died from tuberculosis in 2001 at the age of 43. His passing also sounded the death knell for ATRC. After Teo’s death, the company put on one final production, Ramayana, in 2002, as a tribute to Teo and his legacy. Following in their late artistic director’s footsteps, the company staged Ramayana outdoors in The Substation Garden. The battle scenes in the play were depicted using Gatka, a South Asian martial art form using wooden sticks to spar. Flying inkpot reviewer Kenneth Kwok found ATRC’s Ramayana “not exactly flawless”, but was also impressed with its “flair and flavour”. Noting the underlying motivation behind the company’s swansong production, he wrote: “…it was particularly powerful to see the coming together of these various artists, all performing their hearts out with such love and fervour in tribute to their fallen comrade and leader, the late William Teo.”

After Ramayana, ATRC ceased operations. “After William died, we weren’t sure if the group would survive,” company dramaturg Sonny Lim said. “It was a one-man show, held together by the mesmerising quality of one human being. When was gone, there was this big hole – people didn’t work for Asia-in-Theatre; they worked for him.”

By Daniel Teo
Published on 14 July 2017

Update (15 July 2017): Name of the university in Cambodia was corrected from “University of Phnom Penh” to “Royal University of Fine Arts”.

In the next edition of the Living Room, a panel of past ATRC collaborators will discuss their experiences working with this extraordinary company and its founder. In the Living Room: William Teo’s Asia-in-Theatre Research Circus is happening at Centre 42 on 29 July 2017. To register, please head to http://bit.ly/lratrc.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #2.

The crowds gather around spoken-word poets from destination: INK’s programme, “One-Mic Stand”, at Late-Night Texting in 2016.

On a busy night at Centre 42, we sometimes have up to four or five groups rehearsing under the same roof at the same time. But like we mentioned in our third anniversary story, the theatrical magic usually happens behind closed doors. Once a year, however, we throw open those doors for an after-hours shindig called Late-Night Texting, so that everyone can come and experience that magic for themselves.

Late-Night Texting made its debut last year, and the idea for it came about fairly organically – the Centre 42 team talked to some of the artists who regularly use our space, and asked if they would like to showcase some of their work in a casual one-off event. Several groups came on board, and we pulled together a line-up featuring performances of short plays, spoken-word poetry, and improv comedy.

The idea is for the event to be a playground for artists to try new things. It’s also a chance for the public to sample something a little different, meet some of the amazing artists we work with, and hopefully have lots of fun while they’re at it.

We weren’t sure what to expect for the inaugural edition, but our blue house ended up receiving over 3,000 visitors in one night. So this year, we’re bringing it back again as part of the Singapore Night Festival. Except now, there will be twice the texting, as it will be held on both Friday 25 and Saturday 26 August. As per last year, there will be a line-up of text-based performances, as well as snacks and drinks on sale from our friends at Coffee Bandits.

Here’s what visitors to Late-Night Texting 2017 can expect.

“Night Shift” by Proletariat Poetry Factory

The team of Servile Poets hard at work at Alt-Topia, Proletariat Poetry Factory’s event in 2015 at Centre 42.

It was arguably Proletariat Poetry Factory (PPF) who inspired a night of revelry in the blue house. Founded by Rachel Goh in 2006, the group comprises a team of Servile Poets. Their mission is to compose poems based on words submitted by visitors to whichever event they’re performing at. In 2015, PPF created Alt-Topia, a multi-faceted performance, as part of the Singapore Night Festival. Centre 42 was the venue programme partner.

The Servile Poets donned bright orange boiler suits and settled in front of their typewriters in our Black Box. Meanwhile, a team of actors dressed up in larger-than-life costumes roamed our blue house, greeting visitors and cracking the whip on the poets if anyone was caught slacking.

“To be frank, we didn’t know what to expect as it was just one big experiment,” Rachel recalls. “It was hands-down our most ambitious show ever, combining poetry production with organic theatre and self-exhibitionism. But it turned out to be two nights of random magic.”

The Centre 42 team really enjoyed the participatory nature of Alt-Topia, and we’re thrilled to be welcoming PPF back to our space for the 2017 edition. This time, they return under the programme name “Night Shift”, where they will once again be setting up a poetry production line. However, Rachel points out that the experience will be quite different from Alt-Topia.

“It will be a much more intimate show than before as we will be performing alongside other Late-Night Texters,” she says. “Also, this time the spotlight will be on our poetry customers, as there will be a more prominent stage for them to recite their freshly-made works – rendering our usually ephemeral poetry more tangible and public for a change.”

“One-Mic Stand” by destination: INK

Charlene Shepherdson performs at the 2016 edition of Late-Night Texting.

Also making a comeback at Late-Night Texting 2017 is “One-Mic Stand”, a series of spoken-word poetry performances organised by the same people behind the monthly open mic series, destination:INK. They, too, will have nine acts this year, all of whom are the event’s regular performers. They are: Ang Shuang, Harini Vee, Joses Ho, Laika Jumabhoy, Max Pasakon, Pranamika Subhalaxmi, Praval Visvanath, Will Beale and Charlene Shepherdson. Between them, they cover a wide spectrum of genres, from sci-fi poetry to poems that combine word and music.

“As a writer, it can get quite isolating because you tend to work on your own projects and your own communities,” explains Charlene Shepherdson, a spoken-word poet and one of the organisers of destination: INK. “So an event like Late-Night Texting is great because it reminds me that there are so many more people working in other forms of the arts, and it gives us an opportunity to get to know them.”

We’re also delighted when Charlene told us that they were able to introduce spoken-word to a new audience at last year’s event.

“It was amazing watching people casually strolling by Centre 42, pick up on the noise and decide to venture in,” she says. “I got a lot of comments afterwards that they weren’t even aware that there are regular spoken-word events in Singapore.”

“Eat My Shorts” by Dark Matter Theatrics

One of the short plays from Dark Matter Theatrics’ programme ‘Eat My Shorts’ at Late-Night Texting 2016.

Founded by playwright-director Christopher Fok, actor Lian Sutton, and playwright Marcia Vanderstraaten, Dark Matter Theatrics (DMT) is a theatre collective that’s about “bringing the extraordinary out of ordinary things”. Formed in 2015, and the team has worked in Centre 42 on various projects, including site-specific productions, workshops, and reads.

DMT was also one of the groups that took part in Late-Night Texting last year, presenting a series of ten-minute short plays titled “Eat My Shorts”.

“What I think ‘Eat My Shorts’ does really well is to bring out the magic of short, simple stories. Like all our work thus far, it is powerful in its compactness and endearing in its intimacy,” says Marcia.

“Eat My Shorts” will be making a return this year with 12 different plays by young playwrights mentored by Marcia and Faith Ng.

“It was really so lovely to see so many people at Late-Night Texting 2016, listening to spoken-word poetry, checking out books at the pop-up store, and lining up patiently to watch our ten-minute plays,” remembers Marcia. “DMT has developed a great working relationship with the good folks of Centre 42, and after seeing how well the first edition of ‘Eat My Shorts’ went, it made perfect sense to go for it a second time around.”

“ETA: 9MIN” by Main Tulis Group

The current members of playwright collective Main Tulis Group, who will each be writing a nine-minute short play for Late-Night Texting this year.

A new group that will also be presenting short plays this year is Main Tulis Group. The playwright collective was formed by Nabilah Said in 2016, and it now comprises nine members who write in both Malay and English. They are (from top left in the photo above): Ahmad Musta’ain Khamis, Farhanah Diyanah, Hazwan Norly, Zulfadli Rashid, Sabrina Dzulkifli, Nabilah, Adib Kosnan, Nessa Anwar, and Johnny Jon Jon.

“Main tulis” means “play write” in Malay, and the group chose it as a pun on “playwright”. But it can also mean “anyhow write” – a sign that members are encouraged to experiment and not take things too seriously.

The group has been meeting at Centre 42 since its inception, and Nabliah is excited to be part of Late-Night Texting for the first time this year. Main Tulis Group’s programme is titled “ETA: 9MIN”, and it is a showcase of nine-minute plays written by each member specially for the occasion.

“It’s like going to a buffet where you get to sample many things,” says Nabilah. “We each have very different styles – there’s comedy, tragedy, social commentary, absurdism, English plays, Malay plays, [etc.] We want to give the audience a good story.”

“#nofilter” by Telling Stories Live

Petrina Kow (front left) and Shireen Abdullah (front centre), who founded Telling Stories Live, pose with some of the group’s members.

Telling Stories Live (TSL) essentially began as a dare. When working together on Dream Academy’s 2013 production of Crazy Christmas, Petrina Kow and Shireen Abdullah discovered their mutual love for The Moth, a podcast that features different storytellers in each episode. The two of them dared each other to start something similar in Singapore, and TSL was born nine months later as a labour of love.

“There’s something quite special about listening to other people’s stories in person,” says Petrina. “It takes a lot of courage for the storyteller to be vulnerable in front of a live audience. In this fast-paced digital world we live in, it’s even more crucial to create spaces for us to connect in this deeper way.”

Six of TSL’s members will be taking part in Late-Night Texting for the first time this year, and they will be sharing a series of strange but true stories in a programmed called “#nofilter”. As the name suggests, this will be an intimate, no-holds-barred event.

“We have got an exciting line-up of storytellers. All I can say is… it might get a little dark!” teases Petrina. She adds that the team will be creating “a safe, warm space that is conducive for connecting with the audience, because at the end of the day, it’s about having fun and getting [the storytellers’] stories out there”.

“Text with Me” by The Latecomers

Locally-based improv comedy troupe The Latecomers goofing around after a recent gig they did.

This rambunctious gang of improv comedians first banded together in 2014. They started off as an interest group at SCAPE, where they provided free workshops for the public. Nowadays, they rehearse about three times a month (often at Centre 42), and perform regionally. Their brand of humour is, shall we say, not exactly politically correct. But it sure sounds fun.

“A recent musical game we tried in rehearsal ended up with every member of the UN Security Council in a diss rap battle,” Darren Foong, one of The Latecomers, tells us.

He wouldn’t divulge too much about what to expect for “Text with Me”, the skit that they will be performing at Late-Night Texting. “Now, now, spoilers!” tuts Darren. But he does say that audience suggestions and participation is key. And the more the audience gives, the more they will get out of it.

“We think texting should be a two-way thing,” he explains. “If an audience is willing to share, we could help them with a confession, or write a serenade for someone, or even stage an improvised play… but you’ll have to come by to find out!”

“Between the Lines” by BooksActually

BooksActually will be returning with a pop-up store at Late-Night Texting 2017 where you can go to #buysinglit.

The beloved independent bookshop had a pop-up store at Late-Night Texting last year, and have decided to up their game this time around. On top of once again setting up a booth for visitors to #buysinglit, co-founder Kenny Leck and his team will also be organising a programme called “Between the Lines” at this edition. Here, authors Tania de Rozario and Daryl Yam will be reading excerpts from their work, and have a sharing session with the audience afterwards.

Tania is well known for her collection of poems and short prose, titled Tender Delirium, and a literary memoir called And the Walls Come Crumbling Down. Daryl is an up-and-coming writer whose debut novel, Kappa Quartet, was long-listed for the 2015 Epigram Books Fiction Prize.

“I love the tenderness, and the sense of vulnerability that is dosed out in measured moments that resonates in both Tania’s and Daryl’s writing,” says Kenny. “Both writers are what I termed ‘shy writers’. They don’t rely on the ‘ra ra’ feel that some other writers present in their writing. Instead, both Tania and Daryl rely on their text to do the slow work. Every word, every phrase, every turn affords the reader a sense of completeness in due time.”

He continues: “As the event name goes, we hope the audience will come away from the event held during Late-Night Texting to be able to literally read ‘between the lines’.”

By Gwen Pew
Published on 14 July 2017

Find out more about Late-Night Texting here, and join us at Centre 42 on 25 & 26 August 2017.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #2.