Checked out The Tim Sullivan Show at Collectors Contemporary and even met the American artist himself. He was dressed in a suit with a red tie, a pair of nerdy black-framed glasses and shiny black shoes. He was as aesthetically pleasing as his works. We chatted about his work and his time spent in Singapore. Tim was very casual in his demeanor and said that he enjoyed the time here, minor gripe; the heat, which he then said, keeps me indoors. I told him that I particularly interested in one piece entitled ‘Uncle Joe’s Story’ (pictured) which reminded me a lot of the work of Richard Prince. But of course I did not mention this to Tim, from experience, try to not compare an artist’s work with another’s, they tend not to like it all that much.

The gallery was spacious and had ample lighting and not the spotlight ones that make you sweat buckets. There was a hidden area with a couch and a lazy chair; a screening of one of Tim’s multi-media presentations was showing. My eyes were transfixed on the projector screen. My concentration was interrupted when I caught a whiff of buttered popcorn and turned to my left. The gallery’s owner Gary was micro-waving cornels! He put them in retro-esque red-and-white stripped boxes like the ones you would get in theatres circa 1960s. He saw me eyeing a box with intent, which resulted in him giving me one whole box of freshly popped buttery goodness.

I spent the remainder of the evening walking around the gallery and even had a cigarette while talking about art with the gallery’s consultant Eunjeong Park. Originally from Korea, Eunjeong has a liking to quirky collections, ignoring the current state of ‘Contemporary South-East Asian’ art attack in Singapore. She also reminisced about how she used to love smoking back in Korea and that it was too hot here to actually enjoy a cigarette. I agreed with her, but then she continued to say that at least it’s helping her addiction and that made me laugh. I asked her how much ‘Uncle Joe’s Story’ costs and she mentioned that it was me about $3000++ to take that baby home. I thought about it and realised that I wanted it because it reminded me so much of Richard Prince. I decided to save the $3000 and wait for the day when I can afford an actual Prince.

Even though I left the gallery empty handed, I took back with me great conversation, a stomache full of salty popcorn and a much needed serving of non South-East Asian art.

It was a hike up Mount Sophia Road but we finally made it to Old School for the CROSSCURRENTS: NEW MEDIA ART exhibition at Osage Gallery. We had our glasses of wine and were slightly tipsy which was perfect a proper experience of the ‘musical wheel’ by artist Kingsley Ng. It was like a merry-go-round except it was covered. As curious person steps onto the wheel, it senses the movement which then creates single light patterns on the roof/tepee of the installation. Oh and did we mention, the wheel turns, but ever so slightly that you don’t feel it. We spent the next few minutes staring at the lights and melodies also triggered by movement. It was a calming experience albeit slightly disorientating, which isn’t necessarily bad.

We stopped for a second to look at the mechanical ‘Tyrannosaurus Rex’ by the same artist, which didn’t do much for us. It was pretty to look at but we were done in a second. Finally we made our way up two flights of stairs to check out Singaporean artist Zulkifle Mahmod’s ‘Sound work: Dancing with frequencies’. It was basically an empty school hall with plasma screens lined in a row. The steps of the auditorium has light sensors, when your body hits any of the sensors, they produce sounds and digitalised sound waves on the plasmas. I felt like I was a conductor of my own digital symphony, the novelty wore off and we made our exit.

On the whole, it was an interesting experience to see how Asian artists interpret their local traditional routines and landscapes with the use of modern technology and materials.

By the end of the year, Butter Factory loyalists will have to head on over to the Fullerton for their fix of creamy hip-hop and electro. Yeah, you read that right - one of Singapore’s most popular clubs is moving to One Fullerton with a bigger, badder more buttery space in mind (actually, it’ll be twice the size of the current Robertson Quay location, and twice as nice). Sceptics should bite their tongues - although Butter will take over the area where Centro used to be (among a string of other ex-nightspots), devoted Butter-goers will surely prove that the space isn’t ‘cursed’. After all, a night out at Butter is guaranteed goodness. We should know - we speak from experience (all work and no play makes AO unbearable).

Am I the only one who actually had a good time at the Brazil v. Singapore football match last night? Maybe it helped that I was sitting right next to the Brazilian noisemakers — the guys on the bongos, playing the samba; the ones screaming every time Ronaldinho touched the ball (and though Brazil did play down the whole match, tooling around a bit with the Singapore Lions, there were still some amazing touches). That part of National Stadium – the upper left-hand corner of the East Gallery – felt alive. But apparently, while I was chatting with the guy who flew in from Malaysia just for the night to see the game, and the Brazilian/Chinese/American who busted out his green and yellow shirt, there were a lot of Singaporeans around the stadium who were also cheering for the away team.

Now, I’m all for national pride (esp. considering National Day is about a week away), but the reaction to Singaporeans cheering on Brazil seems to border on ‘tar-and-feather’ levels. Sure, you should cheer on your home team, but if someone makes a good play, don’t you resign yourself to applaud that, too? I mean, I do — I know how freakin’ hard it is to pull off that mid-level bicycle kick while surrounded by defenders in the 18.

It’s also not like the Brazil/Singapore rivalry is up there with Manchester United/Manchester City. This is the equivalent of your little sister playing your older sister in the backyard – it’s a friendly match. Winner gets a Popsicle. It’s a pre-Olympic game, which doesn’t get much friendlier (case in point: Manchester matches have post-game brawls, while the Olympics have cute, fuzzy mascots handing out souvenir pins).

How often do you get to see a team of Brazil’s calibre in this region? Let alone see how the Lions pull their game together against them? It could have been a massacre — I’d predicted 12-0 in all seriousness. But Singapore keeper Lionel Lewis made some solid saves, the Lions had control of the ball for at least part of the game, and Brazil didn’t embarrass us like they could have. Maybe my standards have dropped because I haven’t seen a great live football game in a while, but I give both teams credit for making my Monday night much, much more entertaining than it would normally be.

Fun facts: Attendance: approx. 33,000; this was the final game at the National Stadium before it’s torn down.

The comparison to Cirque de Soleil is unavoidable when describing Studio Festi, but this really is the only way to try to convey the sheer scale, vivid colour and imagination of the large-scale outdoor performances this Italian troupe pulls off. On the opening weekend of the Night Festival, a sizeable audience was wowed at the National Museum and SMU campus with a spectacle of grace and style. Stamford Road was cordoned off and earlier drizzle had petered out by showtime, giving Festi free rein to stage a delicately beautiful, virtually indefinable two-part humdinger that combined surrealism, magic, music, circus spectacle, pyrotechnics, romance and art in roughly equal measure. Never knowingly understated, in the Museum’s irrefutable neo-Palladian grandeur Festi were gifted the ideal backdrop for their latest creation, the aptly titled extravaganza The Dancing Sky.

A vague narrative thread ran through part one – a couple meets, falls in love, is forced apart – but Studio Festi is, in quintessential Italian fas

hion, a triumph of style over logic, and by far the best way to enjoy The Dancing Sky was to gaze up at the aerial acrobatics, absorb the breathtakingly pretty set-pieces and swoon. A trapeze artist danced around a white piano; elegantly clad ladies dangled off giant balls into the crowd; a sailing ship slid across the Museum façade; weird brides on wheels wore oversized dresses as they cut a balletic dash several metres up: such was the utterly lovely, slightly barmy stuff of part one. The bemused audience shifted over to the campus green for part two. A strange fellow dressed as a pioneering explorer climbed onto a podium with his telescop

e. As we stood in the darkness waiting for the dénouement, anticipation grew. Whatever were they going to pull off in this small space? Oh yes, obviously: a fabulous dance routine in and around a giant ba

tht

ub; a magnificent slideshow of classical-art images illuminated by water jets (how did they do that?); fire-spinning performers twirling their torches to a throbbing techno beat. Words don’t do justice; n

or do pictures, even. You had to be there.

Kudos, too, to the event organisers for shepherding the click-happy throng efficiently, though never heavy-handedly, throughout. Stylish presentation aside, this was hardly the seamless display perfected by Cirque de Soleil; but protracted delays and occasional longueurs notwithstanding, this made for sumptuous stuff. The total price of a fantastic night out? Twelve dollars and 35 cents, all of which went on the taxi ride home. Now that’s magic.

Jonathan Evans

I try to stay ‘cultured’ while working for TOS — doesn’t make sense to cover 100+ plays/performances a month and spend most of my free time watching LOST on my laptop (although season 4 is MUCH better than season 3, in case anyone’s wondering). So I’ve been following the Short + Sweet Singapore play festival and competition — it’s a three-week series featuring about ten 10-minute plays a night, written and directed by some of the best local and regional talent (Short and Sweet is also held annually in Sydney and Melbourne).  Each week, audience members voted on their favourite plays, and the top winners moved on to the ‘gala’ finals, staged this past weekend (27-29 June).

Without a doubt, these plays were the best performances I’ve seen since I moved to Singapore. They were smart and edgy, dealing with issues like rape, suicide, unrequited love, and generational differences with tongue firmly in cheek, making even the strangest conversation palatable. The ultimate winner was ‘I’ll Have the Special,’ a comedy about a ‘desperate man finding redemption in his appetite’ (read: a murderer goes to a specialty restaurant to find a quick end to his life in four courses or less, including crab cakes with cyanide and a lovely apricot flambé for dessert — though no one’s ever made it long enough to order it). Former Straits Times journalist-turned-playwright/filmmaker Ken Kwek took home the best playwright award, while the play’s director, Pam Oei (of the Dim Sum Dollies), also took top honours.

Also impressive was ‘Esla and Frinz Go Partying,’ a story about the life of a balloon, from its primal fears (candles, children hyped up on the dangerous ‘red drink’, pins) to the pinnacle of its life (hearing the sacred song, ‘Happy Birthday’). Coral Anne Tong was the runner-up for best actress for her straight-faced portrayal as, well, a bunch of balloons.

Though the shows are over, there’s talk of a Short + Sweet musical version in December. Kwek and the director for ‘Esla and Frinz’, Samantha Scott-Blackhall, have also teamed up to put on Apocalypse Live!, a black comedy/political satire about Singapore in 2058 that’s part of the Singapore Theatre Festival in August. Keep an eye out for these talents.

More winners:

Best actor: Stephen Anthony Wiley, ‘Somewhere between the Sky and the Sea’

Best actress: Sharda Harrison, ‘How Do You Want Me? How Do You Like Me Now?’

Best new talents: actor Peer Mertz, ‘How Do You Want Me? How Do You Like Me Now?’
Playwright Dong Xin, ‘Help!’ (the first-ever Short + Sweet show done in Mandarin)

We’re really sore about our favourite lunch place, Tartines, closing down for no apparent reason. Psyched up for $4 nutella waffles, we rocked up to find the place gutted out without explanation. Not even a Dear John letter. We asked the aunties at the shop next door, but they had no idea why. The good news: rumour has it that Tartines is moving to a location near Amoy (yay!) although this could be a cruel joke (if it is, I will get you. I know where you work). Perhaps Capital Tower jacked up the rent. Who knows? Either way, if my waffles aren’t back within two weeks, it’s going to get ugly around the office.

www.tartinescafe.com.sg

Since I’m a sucker for any kind of rock/blues music, I stopped by the Substation for Rock the Sub on Saturday (7 June). This festival was probably one of the cheapest deals in town that night ($17 for six hours of music and two stages, plus a free drink – Heineken or whiskey and ginger ale!). If you haven’t been to Timbre @ The Substation yet, it’s also worth checking out — the alfresco bar/dining area is relaxed, has casualty cover for the daily rainstorm, and a tasty menu with about 20 options around $9 each, ranging from BBQ chicken salad to mini burgers.

Anyway, after feeding my face, I settled in for the first two bands playing at the Timbre stage: You and Who’s Army? and Heritage. The former — a new, baby-faced band that takes its name from a Radiohead song — opened with a surprisingly solid Radiohead cover, thanks largely in part to the beat laid by their chick drummer, Benita (who also doubles on the keyboard). Not a bad start. The latter band definitely has some heritage behind it: the group has been playing the local scene since the 1970s. Their music is described as ‘eclectic’, which is one way of describing a band with a frontman who’s also a … flautist. Rock the flute, frontman. Rock it.

Couldn’t stay for more, though I would have liked to see West Grand Boulevard and Vertical Rush (the closing bands on their respective stages). B Quartet, my favourite local band as of late, wasn’t on the roster for some reason, though Aging Youth (their label) was on hand. An entertaining sideshow was the teenage flirtfest going on outside the bar — this is definitely the place to pick up if you’re 18, wear tight T-shirts and can spend hours debating the merits of faux-hawks.

What I’m really looking forward to, though, is the Blues at the House on Saturday, 14 June, from 6pm-2am at Timbre @ The Arts House. Bands from Singapore, Australia and Thailand, among other locales, will play blues, soul and funk down by the river. Will refrain from making a Chris Farley ‘down by the river’ joke.

It would be an understatement to describe the past weekend as a haywire music fest. It was massive on every scale (from the drinking to the crowds to the amazing musical line-up in town). So on Saturday night, armed with a fully-lined stomach and a thirst for the good stuff, I met up with an old school pal who was down from KL specially for the weekend roster of AWESOME. We hit up Zouk for the Readyset Glo anniversary with Steve Aoki and Cobrasnake (see pic above)… and were mildly surprised to find it full house from wall to wall with nutted-out hipsters in full dayglo regalia waiting for the man of the hour. And appear he did.

I don’t really remember much from then on to be honest. I’d say we were sober for his intro and things went rapidly (up and then) downhill from there. Let’s just say I had a bit of a TKO and a few regrets. Mel called me at 6pm to remind me that I had a date with the devious Wes Gully, aka Wesley Pentz, aka Diplodocus, aka the one and only Diplo that night – the final day of Gilles Peterson’s 3-day Worldwide Fest organized by Kinemat (big ups to the Kinemat crew for doing it up well good). I dragged my hungover corpse to Fort Canning and tried to look alive but it was tough.

Below from L-R: Mr. Wesley Pentz himself (Diplo), Steve Aoki/Kid Millionaire, M.A.N.D.Y.

Tried to down a beer or two but absolutely couldn’t do it. Thankfully the crowd seemed to be in good enough spirits to compensate for my weakness. Had a chat with Diplo before he went on - poor bloke caught a late flight in from Jakarta. Check out what he had to say here. Cracking jokes about the energy tent, he went on to bang out a stand-up set, crazy upbeat and cheeky as hell. Total 180 from when I saw him back in 2004 at the Middle East in Boston with RJD2 – then he churned out a pretty laid back opener for RJ, but on Sunday he was bouncing off the walls (well, if there had been walls). Threw in a solid mix of old and new, and polished it off with ‘Say It Ain’t So’ which prompted a grand operetta of boozy sing-a-longing. A deservedly good night for one of the nicest guys in the game. M.A.N.D.Y. followed but I had to crawl home and throw myself a pity party. I know, I’m getting old.

An outrageous 17th-century French play crammed with references to outdated medical practices and expletives, translated into modern English and performed in 2008 by Singaporeans: it sounds like a premise as farcical as Molière’s chef-d’oeuvre itself. But combine the classic satirical comedy The Hypochondriac with a dynamic acting troupe (Jonathan Lim’s brilliant young & W!LD), an experienced director (Christina Sergeant) and the ideal venue (the Drama Centre’s intimate Black Box), and it works to frequently hilarious effect.

Molière understood the concept of interactivity a long time before it became a modern-day buzzword: the actors delight in talking to the audience, as if the play were not entertaining enough already. OTT characters abound in this play: Tan Shou Chen excels throughout as the deluded, enema-obsessed hypochondriac himself, Argan, capturing perfectly his soft-centred gullibility; Hang Qian Chou turns in a scene-stealing performance as his daughter’s absurd would-be suitor Punchinello; Jasmine Koh is memorable in her overblown turn as Toinette the emotional maid. It’s a measure of young & W!LD’s all-round excellence that even bit-part players remain in the memory after long afterwards: Terence Tan made a splendidly oleaginous M de Bonnefois, a roguish notary with designs on Argan’s daughter Angelique (Candice de Rozario) – he also doubles as clueless musician and an apothecary.

The breathless pace of the first act meant the momentum dropped somewhat after the 15-minute interval; the much shorter second act deals with expositions on the folly of doctors. But I can’t recall one unconvincing moment, nor was any actor a weak link in the chain. Word has clearly got around about this troupe too, for there wasn’t a single seat unclaimed. Which is hardly surprising: this is a night of sustained comic excellence enlivened by superb acting. Catch The Hypochondriac quickly, though; its run ends on 18 May.

Jonathan Evans