Experimental adventures in the future and philosophy of artmaking.

Legendary experimental theatre company Zuni Icosahedron have essentially become an institution in Hong Kong and internationally-renowned, always daring to push at the boundaries of what constitutes theatre and asking difficult questions about art and artmaking. It is significant then, that the company has agreed to a three-year strategic collaboration with Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts’ (NAFA) new Bachelor of Arts (Honours) Contemporary Chinese Theatres (BACCT) programme.

Kicking off this collaboration was a presentation of their brand new triple-bill, featuring original work by co-founders Danny Yung and Matthias Woo, as well as artist-in-residence, Singaporean artist Liu Xiaoyi. Based on Danny Yung’s seminal concept of creating performances with the basic stage setting of traditional Chinese theatre, this presentation of One Table Two Chairs also introduces a third element – the screen, forming the backdrop for each work, exploring the state of art.

The triple bill opened with Danny Yung’s Legend According to Lao Jiu, a work inspired by the late Kuo Pao Kun’s play Lao Jiu. The work begins with both actors Choy Yu Tin Martin and Chuk Yin Man seated on either side of the table, with Choy facing away from us, while Chuk faces us, except obscuring his face with a single blank sheet of paper throughout the performance. The screen behind projects various phrases in Chinese, marking each ‘act’ of this short work.

What Danny draws from Lao Jiu is not so much its story, so much as its concerns with the loss of traditions and art forms. As Choy gets up from his chair, he begins to embody and become the character of Lao Jiu, a child who wishes to learn and pursue puppetry despite his academic talents. We read about the story of a father who kills a bird, symbolising society crushing the arts by killing birdsong, in turn leading to the death of civilisation itself, and the loss of self and identity.

Choy locks his face into a smile, while performing elements of Cantonese Naamyam and traditional Mak Yong, the later particularly significant having been banned in Malaysia and almost entirely lost. The attempt to perform and preserve these art forms is met with violence instead, where his face is frozen with Botox, no longer able to express himself. In a twist of dark humour, his tortured movements are diluted and commercialised to the point they become a viral dance on social media. It seems there are no easy solutions – a trick of the words on the screen plays with the Chinese characters for ‘market’ and ‘torture’, and seems to hint at the commodification of art as the death of it.

In that sense, the only way forward is neither to hold on to the past nor modernise culture beyond recognition. Instead, Choy moves to destroy the script itself, to no longer be held to the past and history, and instead to craft something new altogether. The blank page is not an act of protest so much as a reminder of the potential that the future holds, that there is a future if only we choose to write it. We can look back with nostalgia and mourn loss, but it seems that the only way forward is to no longer fear the past and carve out our own path ahead.

In the second work, Liu Xiaoyi’s School of Thought ponders over what it means to receive an education in the arts, and what that should comprise. To do this, Liu has employed the help of Indonesian dancer Didik Nini Thowok and Japanese artist Makoto Matsushima to serve as contrasting examples of different styles of training. We begin with Didik, who sits more or less still on the chair, while behind, we learn of his history, having trained in Noh theatre and Indonesian dance, constantly pursuing more knowledge from experts and teachers. He is calm, meditative, and rooted and firm in his positions.

Presented almost as the polar opposite of Didik, Makoto comes out throwing himself to the ground over and over again, wild and frenetic in his movements, with seemingly no order or logic to it. We are informed that Makoto was initially a visual artist, and his introduction to performance art came about because he became a last minute replacement for a sick actor in his teen years. Trained in aikido and improv, Makoto’s training is instead much more personal and private, with him practicing in his own room.

At first, it seems that Makoto is the less ‘professional’ one. As Didik performs various stances and movements, each one increasingly complex, Makoto tries. to ape them, failing miserably and almost comically parodying Didik, much to his annoyance and the audience’s laughter. Didik is like water, filling a cup and adaptable, while Makoto is resistant. Yet, at the end of it all, the two of them sit together, and Didik begins singing a song in Japanese, and something starts. to shift.

Each time Didik mispronounces a word, Makoto interrupts and corrects him. Didik begrudgingly accepts his errors, but after some time, Makoto too joins in the singing, and something truly harmonious approaches. At the end of each mini ‘act’, we hear the sound of a school bell, as if signifying the end of a period. Through this performance, we see that education can not and should not be a standardised one-size-fits-all situation, where we could all stand to learn from each other, no matter how experienced we are. It is diversity in both formal and informal lessons that make up learning as a whole, that makes for a truly dynamic art education.

In the final performance, Matthias Woo presents Tao of Water, adapted in part from his previous work The Tao of Fashion. Inspired by Lao Tzu’s classical Chinese text Tao Te Ching, the work encapsulates a principle of fluidity and the idea to ‘be like water’, adaptable and malleable, that should characterise art. This is also a work that leans heavily into the use of technology, beginning with performer Liu Chun Kin coming onstage with sensors attached to him, mapping his movements to a digital skeleton onscreen.

The work itself begins as Liu begins to dance to various English pop songs – all a little on the nose, with tracks like Ed Sheeran’s ‘Shape of You’ to multiple covers of The Police’s ‘Every Breath You Take’, all while we watch the very dead and bone-thin skeleton. It’s a trippy moment, but most important of all is how we notice every tiny movement magnified in its skeletal structure with each step, as we think about the sheer capability of the human body to perform all kinds of actions.

As the screen fills with azure blue water, a script begins to scroll, as Liu, David Yeung, and Chung Ka Sing take turns to say the same lines, in Mandarin, Cantonese, and English. Dressed in black, with attire matching that of martial arts pugilists, they move across the stage or wield a set of nunchucks, emphasising their comfort with their bodies, while we hear waves crashing behind. It is eventually revealed that these words stem from martial arts icon Bruce Lee’s iconic interview, as we watch it in black and white while the actors take their leave.

How does the Tao Te Ching play into this? For Bruce at least, it is all about coexistence of seemingly incoherent ideas, from beauty and ugliness, the natural and the unnatural within the realm of performance. Essentially, performers must be like water, ready to adapt and fill whatever role they are given, and understanding that is occupies a careful balance of both being and performing, and for the audience to see both at the same time.

Rife with philosophical musings and powerful statements and opinions on what each director feels about the state of the arts, the three works of One Table Two Chairs do feel inherently in conversation with one another, as they form a dialogue on sustainability, growth and adaptability, three tenets that seem to undercut the future of the arts and culture. Rooted in tradition but always willing to stretch into new directions, it is clear why Zuni Icosahedron has garnered the respect it receives, and one is left excited to see what influences they will have on the young minds of NAFA and shape the future generations of art makers.

Photo Credit: Crispian Chan

One Table Two Chairs played at the Studio Theatre, Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts, 151 Bencoolen St, Singapore 189656 from 20th to 21st October 2023. More information available here

Production Credits:

Legend According to Lao Jiu Director Danny Yung (Hong Kong) Performers Choy Yu Tin Martin (Hong Kong), Chuk Yin Man (Hong Kong) * School of Thought Director Liu Xiaoyi (Singapore) Performers Didik Nini Thowok (Yogyakarta), Makoto Matsushima (Tokyo) * Tao of Water Director Mathias Woo (Hong Kong) Performers David Yeung (Hong Kong), Chung Ka Sing (Hong Kong), Liu Chun Kin (Beijing/Hong Kong) * Music Director Cedric Chan Production Stage Manager Chow Chun Yin Lighting Designer Mak Kwok Fai Sound Designer Soloan Chung Video Designer Benny Woo Producer Wong Yue Wai