Performance-lecture on biased historiography and hidden knowledge urges us to critically reconstruct our interpretations to formulate our own version of the truth.

The Malayan Emergency in the late 1940s continues to remain a traumatic memory for many Chinese Malaysians, where families would recall relatives hurriedly leaving the country, or worse – hauled away for questioning over suspected Communist relations, and never seen again, at least, until their bodies are found after execution. This, however, is a memory from the past, where many of the adults today only hear it as stories from their grandparents, and are in a way, personally removed from that event.

For artist and historian Sim Chi Yin, the Malayan Emergency forms a large bulk of her life’s work, having spent the last decade doing extensive research into the way it has been catalogued and recorded across archives. But in the last four years, following the birth of her own son, the field of history has taken on a more personal role, as she wondered to herself how she would tell her own family’s history to him when he is older – to simply take him to museums and view artefacts, or to construct her own version of the story, to unearth the parts left unsaid in the national narratives, each with their own agenda?

All that forms the basis for her performance-lecture work One Day We’ll Understand, directed by Tamara Saulwick, and which played last weekend as part of the Esplanade’s The Studios 2024 season. Combining video footage, archival photography, and even live music, Sim shares about her research process and muses on how she chooses to interpret history and the ‘truth’ behind it. At the Singtel Waterfront Theatre, the stage is mostly empty, save for a ‘screen’ formed by blank white sheets of paper. In a sense, these sheets represent the blank nature of history, where we decide how we want to remember or portray events of the past.

Sim’s journey begins as a personal one, as we follow her path down interviewing various relatives in Malaysia, asking them about memories of her grandfather, who himself was killed during the Emergency. From time to time, Sim narrates the story of her grandfather, still a relatively mysterious figure, known only for his death rather than anything personal. Even though she visits a monument dedicated to his memory, his remains picked out from a mass grave, there is a sense of detachment from the subject matter, rooted more in academic curiosity than emotional drive.

This is in stark contrast to interviews conducted with her various relatives, most of whom are elderly, and despite how long ago the incident happened, tears still spring to their eyes when speaking of the fear that they experienced. At other times, relatives sing now defunct nationalist songs, referencing old sheet music, or half recalling them in memory rather than properly recorded. A story she narrates, from her own grandmother, recounts how moving past a body of water prompted her to say she wanted to simply lie in the water, away from the chaos and loss, and we feel a dull thud of grief, unimaginable pain from a life uprooted.

The theatrical elements in the production are certainly impressive, where video artist Nick Roux skilfully manipulates the impressive amount of footage to fade in and out almost seamlessly, while new screens (noisily) descend from above, to juxtapose interview subjects with each other. Sound artist Cheryl Ong (of indie rock band The Observatory) provides intense live drumming to raise the tension during particularly searing memories, creating a sense of unease when Sim speaks of the violence and horrors experienced during the time, or providing foley effects via water being swished around to represent a flowing river.

The strongest parts of the performance come through during her when Sim speaks of more academic concepts – finding her thesis only in the latter portions of the performance, where she quotes Audre Lorde and wonders if it is possible to use ‘the master’s tools to dismantle the master’s house’, in relation to her research at the Imperial War Museum in London and their skewed view of the Emergency. In response to this, Sim postulates the most fascinating aspect of her work – to adopt Saidiya Hartman’s concept of critical fabulation and insisting on a ‘disobedient gaze’ to problematise the idea of colonial narratives that persist even today, and how archives tend to reflect that one-sided bias without nuance.

This is where her artistic sensibilities come in, where she speaks about holding up light to historical photos, where dates and details printed behind them are revealed and change the composition of the image. She introduces the idea of ‘magic lantern’ slides, of which she has amassed a fair number, many of which were used during the colonial era for the British Empire to educate fellow Britons about the colonies. Sim inserts images of her grandfather into these slides, and uses them as a way to construct a reimagined history and narrative. She splices images of her grandfather and her son together, having never met, but wondering what if they had, a form of imaginative escapism.

In a sense, One Day We’ll Understand is a disjointed work – on one hand, Sim is strongest when she confidently elucidates about historiography and using her art as a means decolonising. However, the attempt to make it personal and link it to her own family feels trite – the interviews are relevant, but she never feels personally invested or enthused about these segments, perhaps even dulled to the emotions due to the copious amounts of time she has already spent with the subject matter. As a result, while fascinating and at times sensorially evocative, the work itself has no real emotional anchor, and a lack of narrative tension, where because we already know what happens to her grandfather early on, the remainder of the show feels more directionless, and more of an elaborate academic exercise.

In its final scene, Sim brings the show to a close by explaining how one day we’ll understand that war is personal, that archives are biased, and that history itself is not set in stone having been written by the victors. She frantically begins writing these statements down on paper set on the floor, displayed on the screen behind, and there is an urgency to her actions that was not seen prior in the performance. We may not have learnt much about Sim’s family by the end of the show, but what Sim does succeed in is presenting an innovative mode of thinking and creating that allows us to decolonise the mind, and perhaps, find hope in imagination, rather than feel constrained by history.

Photos by Joseph Nair, courtesy of Esplanade – Theatres on the Bay

One Day We’ll Understand played from 30th August to 1st September 2024 at the Singtel Waterfront Theatre. More information available here

The Studios 2024 – Fault Lines runs from July to September 2024 at the Esplanade. Tickets and full programme available here

Production Credits:

Concept / Performer Sim Chi Yin Sound / Performer Cheryl Ong Director Tamara Saulwick Dramaturg Kok Heng Leun Video Artist Nick Roux Lighting Design Andy Lim Technical Manager Yap Seok Hui Executive Producer Goh Ching Lee