Stepping into Sammaki Gallery’s new solo exhibition we are transported into the vivid imagination of Battambang based artist Ot Veasna. Given Veasna is deaf, unable to write, and knows only limited sign language, we rely on his boundless creativity for a peak behind his amiable but silent demeanor.
Veasna’s chimeras and multi-faced creatures are playful, highly fantastical, and definitely merit a visit. At first read, Veasna’s work is a cross between Salvador Dali’s surrealist paintings and George Dunning’s (famous for animating and directing The Beatles’ Yellow Submarine) psychedelic animations. The fantastical chimeras possess a deep child-like sense of wonder and imagination that too many of us are slowly taught to confuse with being childish. Like Dunning’s work, the creatures appear almost goofy and largely benevolent in nature.
Of course, Cambodia possesses a long history of mythical creatures embodied by multiple animals and extra limbs, far removed from Western artists and traditions. For example, the Hindu deity Vishnu is featured prominently at Angkor Wat, regularly with numerous arms. Gajasimha, a mythical cross of an elephant head and lion body is common throughout South East Asian mythology and is even featured on the Royal Arms of Cambodia. Surely, these and many more like them were early influences on Veasna’s internal mythology.
The clean works are endlessly imaginative but, in terms of emotion, very simple. Furthermore, the extent to which Veasna has constructed his own complete mythology is unclear. Are these beings part of a master narrative with hierarchies, epics or morals? We can only wonder. Is this is by fault or because of Veasna’s inability to fully communicate to us in words?
In the flyers and posters advertising the exhibition, Sammaki Gallery features The Child, and for good reason. The painting is unique for the show in that the face takes up almost the entirety of the painting. With two tears running down the face and arms reaching to the heavens The Child is the only painting on display with any discernable emotion.
However, the work that immediately catches attention, and remains a favorite, is Elephant. The remixed Gajasimha is an elephant head morphing into a mermaid, then into a Janus-head of an alligator and man. The vivid red to pink background makes its profoundly bizarre subjects pop.
That Veasna currently has two solo exhibitions (his work was already being displayed at Lotus Bar & Gallery) is testament to his zeal for painting and quality of work. While it is awkward that Sammaki Gallery decided to simultaneously exhibit Veasna during Lotus Bar & Gallery’s show (the galleries are 2.5 blocks away on the same road) how many artists are producing two solo show’s worth of quality work every year?
Veasna’s new solo show runs through to Wednesday March 25. at Sammaki Gallery, Battambang.
Imoved to Phnom Penh from Saigon for the nachos. Well, not entirely – but partly. It sounds absurd, but with ten thousand or so North American expats crowding the bars, pubs and hash houses of Ho Chi Minh City, there are only two that reliably offer the tasty little nubbin known as The Nacho.
Here in PP, though, I can nibble nachos daily. Nachos are necessary for all North Americans, as well as many of those who love or tolerate them. It’s hot out on the dusty streets. And as sure as night follows day, thirst follows heat. And beer follows thirst. And hunger follows beer. You see where I’m heading here? The wise innkeeper knows that the suds will continue to flow if the throat stays salty dry.
So just what is this dish called nachos? It is a bastard child conceived of the Mexican kitchen, adopted by the Tex-Mex kitchen, and embellished and beatified by the Cal-Mex kitchen. At its most elemental it is nothing more than a corn chip dressed with cheese, tarted up with salsa, and perhaps besmeared with frijoles refritos (a fried mash of pinto beans). It may be further cloaked with sour cream, bejeweled with jalapenos, enriched with meat, decked out with slices of olive and perfumed with cilantro. It can be either the temple virgin or the painted lady of Cal-Mex cuisine. At ballparks in the USA it is the neighborhood tramp. You will not find it in Mexico except where Americans and Canadians tend to loiter.
The nacho’s origin is largely unknown to the general population. Here’s the straight and skinny. It was in Texas in 1943 that a certain group of “ladies who lunch” went on a shopping trip to the Mexican town of Piedras Negras, just below the US/Mexico border. They decided to lunch at the Victory Club, where Senor Ignacio Anaya reigned over the kitchen. As with Caesar Cardini and the Caesar salad, he was short of goods at the time. So he cooked up some corn chips, slathered them with what he had, no doubt liberally lubricated the ladies with liquor, and served them his famine fare. The ladies loved it. Either they or he named the dish for Ignacio, but they used the diminutive: nacho.
The simplest formula for nachos is to pile corn chips on a platter, then cover them with salsa and grated cheese. The cook can add whatever else might be at hand. Trout fishermen just open a bag of chips, remove about a third of the volume, then pour in salsa, cheese, and whatever else, close the bag and shake the whole mess. At the other end of the spectrum, such as when the king comes to call, the cook might dress the nachos individually, so that they appear like canapes.
While there is much room for self expression in making nachos, it must be bore in mind that it is a simple dish. And simple things are unforgiving of mistakes. The easiest mistake with a simple dish is to use poorly chosen ingredients. People who make nachos with cheese-flavored Doritos need flogging. Mild cheese is a sin. Whole beans of any kind is simply beyond the pale. Spam is insane. And there is, here in PP, a popular purveyor of Mexican-like foodstuffs that uses chips made from flour rather than corn tortillas. I have no words for those miscreants.
The best nachos I’ve tasted in the Kingdom are those of the Cocina Cartel at #198 Street 19, right behind the Royal Palace. You can have them veggie style (which is not considered unflattering to their creator) or with grilled beef or roast pork. The roast pork version is a song in the mouth. The meat is fatly succulent, meltingly tender and salted to perfection. The chips are unadulterated corn. The salsa is tomato rich with a maestro’s balance of salt, sweet, tart and spice. Big slices of genuine pickled jalapeno pepper crown the composition. The only off-note is the garnish of lettuce chiffonade, which is as out of place as a harpsichord in a mariachi band. But brush that stuff off and you’ve got a fine dish of Ignacio Anaya. Good bye, Miss Saigon. Hello, Gorgeous.
We returned to Phnom Penh and our next interview took place at the house of Seim Chantha, 47, in Kandal province. The house was a work in progress, with tools, lumber, and all manner of rusty debris littering the downstairs living area.
It was our ninth interview in four weeks, as we traveled across Cambodia looking for sorcerers, spirit mediums, fortunetellers, and other mystics to add to our forthcoming book. I assembled a team to document the lives of these spiritual professionals, not to debunk the notion of spirit possession or any of that nonsense, but to show the world these rituals and traditions, and, maybe, help preserve them. Every interview revealed something new, and Seim Chantha was no exception.
The upstairs was mostly vacant, save for a room dedicated to an elaborate altar and a front porch covered with plastic mats and, as we’d find out later, some sticky, staining petroleum-based wood treatment meant to repel termites. An elaborate spirit house hung from the roof to guarantee the local entities lived in style: designed with an eye toward modern architecture, it came complete with an SUV and a helicopter. It was a window, perhaps, into Chantha’s own aspirations and a testament to his showmanship, which he was eager to demonstrate.
Chantha’s magical practices were derived from a complex cosmology that came not only from the spirits that possessed him but also his unique past lives as well: among others, he claimed to be the reincarnation of Jayavarman VII, the greatest king of the Angkor era Khmer Empire. But he didn’t always know that.
“My parents were farmers. Neither has experience with spirits,” he said. “I spent most of my life in the countryside as a farmer, and I didn’t know much about what went on in the outside world.”
He spent some of his younger years in the army, and protective tattoos on his hands and chest were evidence of that, but otherwise, his worldly experiences were of the more mundane sort: working, marriage, and supporting his family.
“When I was in my early ‘30s, I encountered spirits, and they said, ‘Go and take care of other people. They need help,’” he said. “The spirits first came to me in a dream. I dreamt that a god gave me a chakram from his palm and said that this was the power god gave me to help humans who are in need of help.”
Seim Chantha
Chantha disregarded these messages, preferring instead a life of fishing, but disbelief carried a heavy price: five years of sickness that he couldn’t seem to shake.
“I was young and didn’t believe in such things. But the god visited me a few more times, and the god took my spirit to visit different places, like heaven, the mountains, and even where the dragon lives under the water. So I started believing. And the god told me that when I stopped being a fisherman my life would get better.”
This supreme being’s name was Krorpom Jakrova, protector of three realms (heaven, the Earth, and the underworld). When he came to Chantha, he brought company.
“Seven spirits come to me: 1) Krorpom Jakrova; 2) Ey Sey Akinet; 3) Lok Ta Mae Toib; 4) Lok Ta Kom Haeng; 5) Lok Ta Krong Nokor; 6) Lok Ta Meun Ek; 7) Vihear Sour. The other six are the associates of the first one. Bodyguards, each with powers,” he said. “They come when the people need them. When they come, they smoke three cigarettes.”
While the supreme being is very gentle and understanding, the other six, being bodyguards, are more strict and have specialised roles. When these spirits came upon him, they told Chantha about his past lives and what he needed to do in this life to preserve his legacy.
“My karma decided what I am now. In my first life, I was a forest saint near Veing Mountain. In my second life, I was Jayavarman VII. In this life, I am destined to help people. People are suffering, and my karma decided that I need to be a medium and help people.”
He’s not the only family member with a strong past – his eldest son is the reincarnation of a mountain saint.
“He has cheated death. Once, his boat sank in the river. Normal people would have died, but my son survived,” Chantha said. “Because he was born powerful.”
Chantha’s grand visitation prompted skepticism in his village.
“At first, the villagers thought I was insane,” he said. But the spirits’ power proved them wrong, as people came to him to have their problems solved. “Now, the whole neighborhood believes in me, and people often have me bless ceremonies as I channel the spirit of the protector of the land.”
Using charms, ointments, relics, and more, the spirits that Chantha hosts provide guidance, cures, and protection to those who seek him out, and the appreciation of his clients has his family slowly climbing out from under the mountain of debt that his wife assumed when he first fell ill.
“Before the spirit came to me, my life was a struggle: I barely had enough to feed my wife and my family. But now I am much better. I help people, and people help me back with offerings depending on how much they appreciate my help and how effective it is. With these offerings, my life has improved,” he said. “I’m happy and content with my life because I believe that this is what I’m destined to do from my past lives – to help people. When people are happy, I’m happy.”
What doesn’t make him happy are fortunetellers who exploit those in need (“That’s not how spirits work. Spirits help people.”) and black magicians who attack him out of professional jealousy.
“There are other people who practice magic who call themselves spirit mediums who get jealous and use dark magic to make my family suffer,” he said. “Once, my wife was targeted by black magic, and she would wake up in the night crying and screaming. But I channeled my spirit and blessed her, and it all went away.”
Like our other subjects, Chantha couldn’t conceive of a situation in which his neighbours would blame him for problems in the area or commit violence against him, as mobs had done several times in the preceding months. But he admitted that black magic is still a problem – and he was the solution.
“I was not aware of those killings, but there are people like that, and that is the reason why there are people like me. There are people prone to doing bad things. That’s why the spirit came [to me]: to help people escape black magic,” he said. “[The killings don’t] concern me because people in the village know that I don’t know black magic. What I do every day is not my doing! It’s the spirits’ doing. So I don’t concern myself about people accusing me of performing black magic.”
While he sees a growing sense of disbelief among Cambodia’s younger generations, Chantha believes that they’ll eventually come around.
“Teenagers today do not fully understand how magic works. Whether they believe or not, it’s a way of helping people. Sometimes when science fails, they look for magic to help. A teenager who suffers from a broken heart can go insane, and a doctor cannot cure that, but the spirits can.”
We then prepared an offering that would summon the spirits into Chantha’s body, and he told us to expect the unexpected.
“You can ask the spirit to perform a miracle for the camera,” he said. “It can eat fire.”
Chantha donned a yellow sash and red headband and turned on some traditional music. Several minutes later, the spirit was inside Chantha, scribbling on pieces of paper, which it distributed.
“This is a language known only to me. No human can read it. It’s the language I use to bless people and heal people,” it said. “The Buddha and the dharma help the people in all realms.”
The spirit Chantha referred to as Krorpom Jakrova calls itself Hun Bak, and it says that it’s 2,337 years old (“Since the beginning of Buddhism”).
“Destiny decided for me to choose this host. My destiny is to help people,” Hun Bak said. “I’m very pleased with this body. I tortured this body for more than five years because it didn’t believe in me.”
Hun Bak chain-smoked three cigarettes at a time; each representing one of the “three jewels of Buddhism.”
“The three cigarettes represent the Buddha, the dharma, and the sangha [clergy],” it said. “It’s either cigarettes or betel nut, and you didn’t bring us any betel nut.”
While its father is Yum Reach, the lord of the underworld, and it claims dominion over all the dark spirits of the underworld, Hun Bak said that its intentions are friendly.
“My favorite thing to do is to help people, especially people who are suffering from disease, whether it’s a disease they are born with or a black magic curse. I also help couples who are breaking apart. The more people I help, the sooner I can fulfill my destiny and go back to where I came from,” it said. “I often have to fight evil spirits, and my greatest enemy is an eight-headed ghost. I don’t use relics or charms [to fight them], just my power.”
Hun Bak said that it originally came from Cambodia’s Dangrek Mountains on the Thai border, though there’s a shrine to it in Kompong Chhnang province and here in Chantha’s house.
“I am Khmer, and I have always been here,” it said. “I’ve never been anywhere else.”
When we asked about a miracle, Hun Bak was ready.
“Fire-eating is very powerful,” it said. “When humans are possessed by bad spirits, I eat fire to burn the bad spirits from their bodies.”
Hun Bak lit a handful of yellow candles and shoved them into its mouth. After doing that several times, Hun Bak held up the melted candles and opened wide to display an unburnt mouth (as far as I could tell). It wrote down more blessings for us in the language of the underworld and said goodbye. Chantha came back.
“It’s all okay. I don’t feel a thing. But I’m very tired after the spirit leaves my body and my spirit comes back,” he said.
“My spirit stays in the room, watching us, and there are spirits guarding me to make sure I don’t go too far from my body. My spirit cannot wander around because there are bad entities that would prevent my spirit from going back to my body.”
Chantha said that while he’s aware of everything the spirit says and does during a possession, he cannot perform any magic or miracles himself, and he is unable to discuss anything said between the spirit and the client.
He relishes this post-miracle state, spitting out bits of yellow wax. Taking into account the testimony of the monks we’d met, I asked him what he thought about Sameoun saying that rituals like this are not truly Buddhist.
“A monk just studies the light part of Buddhism. Even Buddha needed help from gods to reach enlightenment. The monks don’t understand that because they don’t understand the dark way of Buddhism.”
Vanishing Act: A Glimpse into Cambodia’s World of Magic contains 11 of these interviews, dozens of photos, and nearly an hour of video, and it’s available from the iTunes Store for iPads and Macs running iBooks. A Kindle edition (without video) is also available from Amazon.com. More information and additional formats can be found at www.neaktaa.com. Meta House will host an exhibition of Valenzuela’s photos from Vanishing Act in July 2015.
THU 05 | Sothea Thang doesn’t do things in halves. Placing himself in the role of the first king of the human world (as you do), Sothea has created 30 human silhouette statues for his latest sculpture exhibition Manu. Derived from the Khmer word for humankind and made entirely out of hemp, iron and steel, the sculptures represent the cycle of life, following the process of development of a human being, from the simplest primitive form to more sophisticated and complex structures. The collection is at once striking and humbling, rising an impressive two metres tall, with each sculpture as unique in appearance and form as the species it represents.
WHO: Sothea Thang
WHAT: Sculpture exhibition
WHERE: The Plantation, #28 St. 184
WHEN: 6pm March 5
WHY: You might see your hemp doppelganger
FRI 06 | Hitting Phnom Penh for the second time since its conception at the end of last year, this fresh young Kampot-based band will have you on your feet with their mesmerising brand of high-energy rock ‘n’ roll and dulcet voices. With a sound as psychedelic as their name and having stemmed from the legendary Cambodian Space Project, you can expect nothing less than golden era rock classics, outrageous costumes and break-leg dancing from the Bokor Mountain Magic Band.
WHO: Bokor Mountain Magic Band
WHAT: Golden era rock ‘n’ roll
WHERE: Equinox Bar, #3A St. 278
WHEN: 9pm March 6
WHY: Mountain psychedelia. The best kind.
FRI 06 | Get engaged with your local art community this weekend at Culture as Resilience: Demystifying Systems Thinking in the Arts, a public talk which will examine and propose ways to apply systems thinking to operations within artistic practices. The talk will be followed by a panel discussion with local art community representatives Dr. Irene Leung, Chea Sopheap, Dana Langlois, Kang Rithisal, Nico Mesterharm, Prim Phloeun and Sophiline Cheam Shapiro. If you’re even remotely interested in the future of arts in Phnom Penh (as you damn well should be), you are strongly encouraged to join for what is the first in a series of events and projects of this kind.
WHO: Art community representatives
WHAT: Public talk and panel discussion
WHERE: Java Café, #56E1 Sihanouk Blvd.
WHEN: 6:30pm March 6
WHY: It’s a good chance to have your two cents
SAT 07 | In line with International Women’s Day this weekend, Ruom Collective presents She Who Tells the Story, an informal gathering designed to celebrate women’s voices in the world of photography and film. Prepare to be blown away by the four impressive and talented females who will showcase their work and share their experiences in a short photo and film projection from Cambodia and abroad. A Q&A session will follow, where you will be given the chance to pick the brains of these women, and perhaps even score a few tips. This is bound to be one seriously inspirational event for anyone interested in obtaining their goals and fulfilling their passions.
WHO: Amira Al-Sharif, Mona Simon, Hannah Reyes, Kalyanee Mam
WHAT: Photography & film exhibit
WHERE: Opera Café, St. #188 St. 13
WHEN: 7:30pm March 7
WHY: Meet world-renowned female filmmakers and photographers
SAT 07 | Direct from the shores of Sinville itself, soulful rock band The Sinville Roadshow has rolled all the way up to Phnom Penh to present a night of soul, rock, blues and reggae. The Sihanoukville-based band is perhaps best known for covers, but don’t let that put you off. You’ll be left with an all new appreciation of the cover band this Saturday, as their heavy bass lines and penetrating vocals shake the walls of The Mansion.
WHO: Sinville Roadshow
WHAT: Rock/Soul/Blues
WHERE: The Mansion, FCC
WHEN: 8:30pm March 7
WHY: They’ve saved you a trip to Snooky
SUN 08 | Who likes violence against women? That’s right, no one (and if you do, you can GTFO). International Women’s day at Freedom Park is a chance to express your support in the ongoing effort to help put an end to its prevalence. What better way to do it than with a positive, uplifting social occasion? That’s what the ladies of Safe Cities for Women of Cambodia believe, providing all the necessities for a merry old shindig – think glow sticks, face-painting, photo booth and one mammoth Madizon dance. And before you lads get all gruff and awkward, keep in mind that you don’t need to possess lady-parts to join in this free event – husbands, brothers, sons and any bloke with a conscience is most cordially invited to celebrate women’s rights and freedom from violence.
WHO: Ladies (and gents)!
WHAT: International Women’s Day celebrations
WHERE: Freedom Park, St. 53
WHEN: 3pm March 8
WHY: Violence against women is completely uncool
Blue Dragon is the kind of bar Alain Delon would get a drink in after getting out of prison: quiet, with velvety French wine, the burnt-sugar aroma of Cuban cigars and a Detroit soundtrack. The location, on the square in front of the Royal Palace, draws a mix of outsized local characters and unsuspecting tourists. There is no menu. A friendly bartender works the room and can make whatever a serious drinker might order. In the evenings, as the sun sinks behind the palace spires, a friendly, mixed-language crowd drinks and laughs, unsuspecting bit characters in a cast of hard-boiled police detectives and hit men. The only thing missing is a get-away car. Blue Dragon, #291 Street 184.
